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sebastianswallows · 2 days

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The English Client — Seven

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 2.6k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

She called him at ten o’clock the next morning, right as he returned from breakfast. She sounded very excited. And scared. They agreed to meet the next afternoon not at the shop, but on a broad street from where they would walk to the Baron’s office. It all had more secrecy than a muggle dabbler merited, but Tom played along.

“Ready?” she asked once they were outside his building, a tall wide limestone white manor.

“As ready as you are,” grinned Tom, his eyes glinting. He was teasing her, and enjoying it far too much.

“Oh dear, I hope not,” she chuckled.

Its doors were as big as city gates, thick old wood with one much smaller door inset on the right. Above it in a shield of stone, a fat snake swirled as it ate a child, legs first. It was a biscione, the Baron’s sigil.

She pushed a button on a metal box beside the door, and a low voice answered on the other side.

“It’s us.”

The door unlocked with a buzz.

The inside was wide and sparse, a naked vault that rose high into the darkness, all cold corridors and decorous marble. There were no carpets, no paintings, not even chairs or tables, only stains and scratches on the stone to tell there ever were any. Golden candleholders clung lightless on the walls, replaced it seemed by fake-crystal fixtures that hummed with electricity.

There was a lift, but they ignored it and went up the stairs instead.

“I’ve been to mausoleums with more life than this,” said Tom.

She giggled. “He’s had to sell a lot of his family assets to renovate the shop. He could probably have them replaced by now, the last few years have been profitable. But I guess he prefers it like this. It’s just his way.”

They climbed the wide and stately stairs up and up and up, going past the first floor, and the second, and the third, and Tom began to wonder if the building was abandoned when a hollow noise came through. A steady murmur. A monologue.

They reached the fourth floor. She opened another door, the only one there between two naked walls, and they stepped into a vestibule.

It was a little livelier and richly decorated. Low red sofas lined the walls on either side, and a tall stove made of ceramic tiles was fixed into the corner. Bookshelves lined the walls, and busts of ladies in black marble were set against the corners.

In the centre, behind a tall imposing desk, sat a woman who nearly dwarfed it with her presence. She was flanked by stacks of papers and a telephone. Although her suit of blue and bronze was feminine in shape, Tom felt a bit emasculated. Her hair was pinned in a harsh style, slinked back and practical.

“Ciao, Berit! Come stai?”

“Bongiorno. Bene.”

“He’s still speaking?”

“Yes. You’re free to enter, silently.”

“I think we’ll wait here. Oh, by the way, this is Tom Riddle. Tom, this is Mrs. Berit Boveri, the Baron’s secretary.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Tom, staying where he was.

The woman was impressive, and he wondered briefly whether this Baron had hired her for security rather than for answering his letters.

“Please,” she said, extending a hand in a quick, precise movement, “sit down.”

She appraised Tom coolly, quickly, before turning her attention back to the newspaper before her. An orange the size of a child’s head was cut open on the desk beside her, filling the room with a fresh scent.

The pair of them sat down, and Tom turned his attention to the sounds coming from the room behind them. A man was speaking in a low and shaky drawl, droning in Italian about what sounded to Tom like the Malleus Maleficarum, a compendium on witchcraft and demonology written by a sadistic German inquisitor in the 15th century. The silence of his audience was heavy and intense, chairs groaning now and then beneath their anxious squirms and ink pens scratching eagerly on paper.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered to her after a sudden thought.

“What?” she whispered back.

“About the nero di seppia… I looked a perfect fool all night, didn’t I?”

She giggled. Tom frowned at her.

“I warned you not to order it.”

“Yes, but perhaps next time I’d like an indication as to why.”

She was going to say something else when the doors opened, and the Baron’s audience ambled their way out. The air buzzed with their excited murmurs, some laughing nervously, some crying.

The pair of them got up, ready to greet the Baron. Tom looked over the crowd as they filed out, a mixed group of all sorts of people, from students to the elderly.

“Where is he?” he asked.

“He’s coming over,” she said.

“Where? I can’t —” He was going to say he couldn’t see anyone else, but then he looked down.

The figure that approached them was far from what he had imagined. Although not diminutive in size, the white and wrinkly lump that came took Tom by surprise. He sat, like a deflated balloon, in a stout but polished wheelchair, and was rolling toward them.

“Hello, Baron,” she greeted with a little bow. “Thank you for seeing us today. This is —”

“Come to my office,” said the old man as he rolled right past them.

The room was golden-lit with deep and intimate colours, as natural as an autumn forest. There was something to look at everywhere. The walls were dense with paintings and photographs in black and brown of little groups of men. The chairs were wide, majestic things with crimson wings and cushions. The carpet was a floral red, the windows tall and gilded. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, low and opulent and gleaming, and from a cabinet on the side a set of golden spoons with handles like rose stems shone among fine china glasses shaped like gaping koi. It couldn’t be anything further from what Tom was used to.

The Baron’s desk was small and delicate, overburdened with ink wells and notes, a lone lamp hard at work between them.

“So, how are you?” the Baron asked them once they were alone.

“Very well,” she answered, smiling widely. “And you, Baron?”

“Fit as an ox on the field, and twice as strong,” he answered in an imposing voice. “Is this him?”

“Yes,” she said, her nervous gaze flitting to Tom. “Should I —”

“Thank you. You may go.”

She nodded and turned without another word to Tom, her eyes lingering on his for just a moment as if to wish good luck. He watched her as she left like a chastened child, then turned his attention back to the old man.

“Pleased to meet you, Baron,” he said with a light bow. “My name is Tom Riddle. At your service.”

The man rolled his way slowly from behind the table, his face set in a frown — or perhaps the rolls of skin were so heavy that it was his fixed expression. He’d clearly been corpulent once, but old age and disability drained him of his strength. He stopped in front of Tom, the wheels almost atop his shoes, and extended his hand — to shake? to kiss? Tom had never met muggle nobility before… Although he was looking at him from two feet below, the old still managed to look down his nose at him.

Tom squared his shoulders, took a breath, and shook the Baron’s hand.

“Julius Eugenio Victor Agarda,” he introduced himself. His grip was still quite strong. His mouth seemed flimsy beneath a sparse moustache, and he spoke with a slight lisp — unless Tom’s eyes deceived him, he was missing a few teeth — but his eyes, a clear blue, had a steady gleam to them. “How do you do?”

“I’m well, sir, thank you,” said Tom, finally getting his hand back. “I came about the books.”

“So I’ve heard.”

With a flourish, the Baron directed Tom’s attention to the right, where a pair of doors stood closed.

“Help me with those, will you?”

Tom looked at him, feeling a bit puzzled, but he maintained his air of calm. He steadied the messenger bag over his shoulder and bowed.

“Of course, sir,” he smiled.

The doors were delicate and white, with carvings on their edges like a frame. Tom grabbed the brass handles and pushed. Beyond them was a large and sunny room in the same style as the Baron’s office but much wider. Its centre was dominated by a dark brown table and its walls with books. The east of the room was all tall windows framed by a thin balcony, and beyond that was the street and the canals.

“My most precious possession. My private collection.”

Tom rolled the Baron through, but quickly let go of him to stroll along the bookshelves without waiting for an invitation. They held every kind of esoterica, from the Corpus Hermeticum to the Grimoire of Armadel. Archidoxis was there, as was De Umbris Idearum, a book Tom had not seen since his first year at Hogwarts.

Others were more recent books, like a cluster on Bacchanal arts written in the 19th century. There stood among them also a well-worn copy of the Metaphysics of Sex. Tom curled his nose at it and looked over his shoulder with disgust. Some books were held in chains, with locks connected to the bookcase, and others were held safe behind glass panes, bright lights in the darkness.

“Impressed?” asked the Baron from the doorway.

“A remarkable collection,” said Tom as he turned.

The old man rolled forward with a peculiar twist of his heavy brows that Tom suspected to be pride. He went to one shelf in particular and reached as high up as he could, carefully picking out a volume. It was bound in leather so aged it was completely black, its spine capped in silver fastenings.

“Look at this,” the Baron said.

Tom stepped forward and carefully lifted it from his hands.

“Michael Psellus, De Operation Daemonum,” Tom read. “Byzantine books on demonology are hard to come by. It must be worth a fortune.”

“Seventeenth-century edition,” he said, slipping right over Tom’s praises. “One of five copies. They survived hidden among the volumes of Psellus’ Mathematics. Only the most important families of the time had access to them.”

Tom smirked. With the Baron’s toothless mouth and his scraggly sparse hair, he didn’t cut a very noble figure. “I don’t suppose you inherited it.”

The Baron took the book from him and set it on his lap, his fat hands folded over it. “I might have,” he said measuredly. “My family traces its roots to the eleven hundreds.”

A mocking smile played on Tom’s lips. He hid it with a timely bow. He’d rather not tell the old man he could brag of the same through Salazar, and so instead he said, “I’m honoured, then, to be in your presence.” But he didn’t hide as well as he meant to.

“Don’t be obsequious,” said the Baron tersely.

Tom straightened and looked down at him, steadying the strap over his shoulder once again.

“I showed my collection to you to illustrate a point. I have some of the rarest editions in my collection, first. And second, there is nothing that I want that I cannot acquire. Now, you may attempt to barter with me.”

Tom regarded the old man coolly for a moment, then took the messenger bag off his shoulder and placed it on the table. The Baron, after that little speech meant to humble him, had nevertheless given himself away: he may have had a grand collection, but he was still willing to entertain a nobody, a stranger, an unknown, for a chance at something rarer. A small man with a big ego and an insatiable hunger, Tom thought, I am well familiar with his kind.

“Then let me show you what I’ve brought for you today,” he said, “and you’ll tell me if it meets with your approval.”

The Baron went to place the books back on its shelves, and by the time he turned back, Tom had lined them all along the table.

There were six books in total. First was the Liber de Lamiis et Phitonicis Mulieribus, a 15th-century manuscript on witches and demonic possession. Then, the Liber Belial,a medieval grimoire with an unknown author, highly sought after and obscure. He took out The Grimorium Verum, an illuminated copy of The Sworn Book of Honorius, the Codex Palatinus Germanicus, and finally the colourful Le Livre de la Vigne Nostre Seigneur.

The Baron approached, retrieving from his breast pocket a thin-rimmed monocle that he perched upon his nose. He looked down at the books while Tom waited a little to the side, one hand stuffed casually in his pocket.

He picked the first one up, his old hands trembling slightly, and opened it, spine cracking. He threw his eyes over the frontispiece, then peeled away the first few pages.

Tom waited patiently as the Baron looked through the second book, and the third, and not a word was said. He could only hope the illusions he had cast on them would hold. It was difficult to even tell what the old bastard was thinking.

When the Baron was done, he took the monocle off, and slowly rolled to face him.

“Remarkable,” he said, his fat plum lips aquiver. “What vitality in these images… And The Grimorium Verum in particular I have been hunting for years.Where did you find them?”

Tom breathed a sigh of relief and grinned. “I’m afraid that will have to remain one of their mysteries. So, I take it you are interested in a trade?”

“I am,” he grumbled, taking from his pocket the list of books Tom had provided, “but it can not go forward.”

Tom cocked a brow. “And why is that?”

The Baron rolled forward and past him, going back into his office. Tom frowned at him and packed the books again before he joined him. With one last longing look at the vast library, he turned and closed the doors behind him.

The Baron was back behind his desk, stuffing a black pipe with tobacco.

“I wish I could,” said the old man, “but I cannot afford it.”

“I’m sure we could —”

“No,” he said, “I do not mean fiscally. I mean ethically.”

Tom regarded him without blinking for a moment. He searched the Baron’s mind for truth and found only a nest of brambles. Too many ideas, conflicts and confusion, plans that stood to shatter at the lightest touch. How much was going on with his little bookshop? Was it to do with that ‘auction’ he’d heard about?

“I don’t see how ethics come into it.”

“Nor do I,” chuckled the Baron with a puff. “That’s the problem.”

He fixed his steely gaze on Tom, and then he understood. Distrust. The old man didn’t trust him.

“Ah,” Tom smiled, “that is a pity.” He bowed, the books tight by his side. “Thank you, nevertheless, for your time. I shall be in Rome for at least another month. If your ethics should change, I would be honoured to be invited to see you again.”

“Be sure I let those books leave my office with a heavy heart, Mr. Riddle.”

“Oh, I know, Baron,” he grinned. “But you might yet see them again. And me.”

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient

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sincerely-sofie · 3 months

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Is this why Ark won't straight up confess?

Oh my WORD I'd forgotten I made a meme of that. Long story short, yeah! Pretty much!

There's a cut (but still canonical) scene this is based on early in The Present is a Gift where Ark, sans memories, basically says he's very fond of Twig and he's happy he met her and is able to call her a friend. Twig doesn't straight up tell him she'll slide him a fifty if he never says that again in the original scene, but she gets VERY noticeably uncomfortable and he permanently backs off on the Words of Affirmation front.

After that, he has this lingering fear that she'll react the same way if he were ever to propose a romantic relationship, and so his ex-villain brain constantly comes up with elaborate schemes that minimize emotional risks and have Twig make the first move in response to actions he takes that may or may not be interpreted as platonic or perhaps something more, therefore shifting all risks off of himself in the process.

TL;DR--- Man's scared of rejection and has masterminded a situation in which Twig is the only one to risk direct rejection, therefore guaranteeing success... If she wasn't an idiot and would pick up on his hints.

#Darkrai may be a genius but he's also dumb #Twig is just dumb. 100%. and she's getting dumber.#“Ark help I keep getting letters in the mail that I can't read because they're written in cursive and I can't even manage print”#“... you don't know how to read c---? OKAY ACTUALLY PLS NEVER LEARN I'LL JUST GO BURN THOSE FOR YOU.”#He's trying. He's trying so hard.#When will he learn that Twig's braincells will never return from the war #the present is a gift au #sofie answers asks #pmd2 #pmd eos #pmd explorers #pmd sky #pmd #pokémon mystery dungeon #pmd darkrai

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thebirdandhersong · 2 months

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sometimes (very often) I just sit there like ?????????

#mother has asked once again in all seriousness if i'd consider mr knight if he were to ask me out a second time................#mother the answer is you couldn't pay me enough money to do that. i'd literally rather be single for the rest of my life #between mr knight and the engineer boy ive learned quite a lot about what i'd like/DEFINITELY would not like in a potential boyfriend #and personally. PERSONALLY. i can't do this no more <3 i CANNAE HANDLE that kind of anxiety sadness insecurity confusion!#the anniversary of the day i wrote mr knight a ten page (occasion: valentine's day) love letter for the first time #and received a random Facebook meme and two weeks of radio silence in return is coming up and i must say #that kind of experience is enough for a girl to put her foot down and declare: that's enough. i can't do this no more :-)#anyway father too was like well all things considered mr knight's not the worst option. he's okay. he could turn out okay #to which i say. father. i may seem and feel desperate at times but i'm not THAT desperate.#no offense to mr knight he simply isnt the right person for me and im simply not the right person for him #i wouldnt be offended if he said you couldnt pay me enough money to date her again either (well. maybe a little. but still)

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vis3rys · 2 months

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@khalesci asked: ❛ why won't you let me in? what are you so afraid of? ❜

"What would you prefer, sister? To know everything that I think of? Perhaps what I dream of. You dream of home and red doors, I dream of our mother bleeding in her bed and our brother slain in battle." He dreams of the chaos of King's Landing when he was but a child. Their mother's belly is growing bigger and bigger and Ser Arthur nowhere on sight, having left with their brother. Viserys dreams of a throne that was stolen, of a fire that was water down and a family slaughter. He grows bitter of Faenerys for having no memories of it.All she ever knew was Essos, a life not as easy as it should be but none of the chaos, where their name no longer mattered and he had to sold his mother's jewelry.

The assassins and the servants who prefered coin over caring for children. "You would never understand my rage and need for revenge. Perhaps that's why you might be a kinder ruler than I would be, sister. Your struggles were different, some inflicted by me, but Westeros is nothing but a name in your mind." He sold her to Khal Drogo for an army that was never delivered. A dessert that left him for dead, abandoned until another sun had saved him but the rage remains. Perhaps something he shares with the old Prince Doran, despite the lack of patience. "I would burn all of those who help kill Rhaegar, and Elia and the kids."

#( ♛ ) ⸻ return to westeros : answered letters.#khalesci #( ♛ ) ⸻ khalesci : interactions.

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spacedlexi · 11 months

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is anybody else out there still creating twdg fanworks 😭📢 where is everyone please dont say reddit i cant go back there

#im gods bravest little soldier for following fandom tags but its rough in there #guess i should specifically say where are the twdg fans who didnt hate violet #sometimes i remember how homophobic (and racist?? in the lee and clem game??) people were during s4 (and still are on reddit/yt) and think:#maybe i should stop looking and just let the cool people find me #go knocking on enough doors and the devil may answer #but i want to see fanart 🥺#was only Slightly surprised by the misogyny because this is clems game series but hoo boy the misogyny towards violet......#ive gotten used to how quiet it is i gotta remind myself a dead fandom is better than an annoying one 💀burning shores reminded me of that #so hard being a wlw in video game spaces please where are my other wlw video game enjoyers i need to find u 😭#gotta draw some more ellie to lure them in like an angler fish #im honestly surprised how dead twdg seems to be esp with the way the final season ended?? its set up so well for fanworks??#theres a lot of unaccounted for time even before clem got to the school. and its set up that their lives could be anything now #is it just because people were burned so hard by seasons 2 and 3 that a lot of people just didnt even play 4??#or maybe they didnt even know s4 was un-cancelled??#because i know theres a lot of people who stopped after 3 #but 4 is such a return to form. its like the other side of the coin to s1 for me. like if s1 was more hopeful instead of dreadful #it is Such a love letter to s1 honestly. imagine if telltale didnt shut down in the middle of production and they got a full budget.....#sometimes i imagine it... s4 with a full 5 episodes??? in my dreams. literally.#oof this turned into a ramble im just fandom lonely #twdg #it speaks

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chirpsythismorning · 1 year

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Back to the future ST5 theories are superior bc they support so many gates!!! Phonegate?? Lettergate??

#stranger things #byler #phonegate #lettergate #back to the future #no but fr why is the entire show started on the day that they returned in back to the future #and why is he wearing a vest just like Marty #and WHY are there phones always ringing and no one answering #riddle me that!!#oh yeah #and letter to Willy???#come on now!!!!!

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loosingmoreletters · 3 months

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The excel sheet has reached the 70s and is still incomplete

#letters webcomic adventures #how many webcomics can you read at once?#the answer is yes #anyway I know micromanage them #I’ve returned to my comic nerd roots #mysterious cringe fail emo boys #and the power of friendship

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0wllight · 1 year

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My dearest Minho,

May this letter find you well.

I must confess, even though I haven't even sent this at the time of writing, I know I will eagerly await your response. It is something that has never changed upon meeting you- wanting to listen to you, that is. Thank you for being such a strong voice in my life. I know I am not the best at conversation, and I always feel as if I need to repay you for your patience. Perhaps writing this can be some form of repayment…but that was not my original intention.

I love you. I feel as if we were made for each other-- one cannot play pool without a cue and cue ball…even though the idea of being fated is not one in reality. Because of this, it makes our encounter all the more special. We are a 1 in a million of possibilities.

I wish I was not so…new to this. I know you would not love me any different if I talked more, or kissed more. But deep within me I would love nothing more than to do that and more. As it is what I love about you- your voice, your laughter, your affections. It will take time, but I will get to there eventually. At the moment, however, I feel to reiterate my feelings by writing them to you. And afterwards, once you have read this, perhaps…perhaps a kiss. If you wouldn't mind.

I care for you, and wish for your care in return. You are a great light in my heart. Continue to keep me in your thoughts as you are in mine.

Yours, with love, Venom

ok so first heres connecticut right now. it will be on the news tomorrow btw everyone look forward to it you'll see some guy destroyed the netirety of hte state dont worry it was just me

lets also get this out of the way that i am one finger down because. ihave a band aid on one of htem and i alos cant feel my fucking hands its like so cold in here im going to die why didnt you add holding my hand onto your message venom/j

anyways now that we got these disclaimers outta the way

here comes the mental illness where i try to seriously respond to a letter:

JASJODISAIGA2I3[T9302IT930IA903GOKOPGREKLG;ERAMGLA; HIG WHO NEY HIAPWEA HIEA GAWGEAW GWAE MEOW MEOW MEO MEOW MOEW HAIEG AIWAEGIOAWMGKLEWMAGKLWAEMG MWAL HI HONEY HI HI HI THANK YOU FOR WRITING OT ME I RELALY EPAORPPRECIATE LYOU LISTEING TO ME. IM GOING DSOPGAKKGODASKOGPSAKGOPSD sorry i cant read this without goingg GAISDGDISAJGDASJGJIGDAS ok ok i go t this YOU DONT NEED TO REPAY ME I WOULD KILL A MAN FOR YOU. OK. ITS OK HONEY UR TRYING UR BEST THATS WHAT MATTERS UR TAKING LITTLE STEPS NAD ITS OK!! OK I CANT WRITE THIS RESPONSE WITHOUT FUCKING EXPLODING BUT YES I WILL GIVE YOU A KISS COME HERE MUAH MUAH KISSY FORMY BELOVED HUSBAND MUAH ILY I WOULD UGASHGAKMAGGKMLLGMWAKLMGWAKLWGMELKGMWAGELKMWALKMAEGWLKMEAGWLKEAWG I CANT EWALKLG;EWAKGL;EAW IC IAWTNICWA TIAMLAEWML;ATKAL;T ML;AW CRIYNG SOBS GIJSGJSLKDMKSLDMGKSL I ALMOST THREW MY PHONE ACROSS THE ROOM IN MY AUNTS HOUSE WHILE READING THIS BTW REALLY FUN FACT IT WAS SUPER FUN MY BROTHER THOUGHT I WAS INSANE OK DID OYU KNOW MY OCUSINES TALKED ABOUT YOU IT WAS FUNNY I ALMOST PASSED OUT LIKE 16 TIMES BUT ITS OK IM FINE NOW WE GOOD!!! IK U DO THE BAKING BUT I WILL MAKE YOU COOKIES WITH HEARTS ON THEM IM SO GOOD at baking like esriously so good i think im sleep deprived here typing this im so sorry followers ill make this really short i almost passed out like 2 times writing this and am lightheaded right now too curse not taking my meds ever but heres just me at venom ok thanks bye i walked into the eletric fence

#JUST AS I FINISH THIS #RETURN OF THE CRAMPS #WAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH #ITS OK #THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS SAINT YOU WILL GET YUMMY OMEN LETTER TOMORROW IN. YOUR INBOX BAKED FRESH FROM THE CONNECTICUT OVEN #(the same oven clark baked malfina a sweater)#(ive used it so many times myself dont worry)#(made one for venom for christmas)#ANYWAYS #THANK YOU I WOULD KILL FOR YOU #AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU #IM SO MENTALLY ILL AND GAY #sorry followers for subjecting you through stage 5 torture #minho shut up #my post #ask #answered #ship: i'll bet on you

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zahri-melitor · 9 months

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Discussing the long s with a historian professor friend of mine and we were looking at the grammar rules for usage and couldn’t stop laughing.

We just invented a new example sentence of the use of the long s that he’s going to use in class this semester, so you’re all welcome, students.

“That certainly is a fuccefs of a word” (the round s is always used as the final letter in words that end with s)

Yes we are just repeating Fuck Efs at each other. Mature adults, us.

#we got onto the topic via German-language newspapers on Trove and amusing ourself at the Gothic typeface #then disappeared down a rabbithole of ‘was the long s discontinued in different languages at different times’#as the papers were late for an English long s #answer: yes and we can thank Hitler for FINALLY getting German off Gothic and onto Antiqua with the rest of Euro languages #Latin lettering supremacy!#(for a good time read about how Otto von Bismarck refused to accept any book gifts printed in Latin and returned them!#absolute mad lad areas)

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unfinishedjulyrain · 10 months

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i have something special planned for tonight. kaz to jay (no, it's not the dungeon. i think

lots of flirting・❥・@temporalobjects ( closed ! )

"Oh?" He could not hide his surprise, not because he thought Kazane was bad at such things. Jay simply had not expected a proposition seconds before he left the campus. Kazane even came to his office so he started to feel a little too excited of what was about to come. "Are we exploring a dungeon?" he joked, tapping his beard as if he pretended to have seen through the woman. The truth was, Jayesh could never, and he did not want to, Kazane had a brilliant mind, the reason why Jay started to develop feelings for her in the first place. "I'm kidding. As you can see, I'm ready to go."

#temporalobjects #( * ic; letters answered )#kazane & jay #the dungeon makes its return

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sunsrefuge · 1 year

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i am GENUINELY so so excited about every ask in my inbox !!!

but my energy is. dead. gone. perished. lost to the void. i do not know when it will return from the war...

#staring loudly at those music asks #n old letter asks..#sobsss i NEED my writing braincells to return from the war !!! please !!!!#/rambling #<- funny silly haha disclaimer for why they havent been answered kjhg #i PROMMY im gonna get to them i prommy i prommy

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deathblizzard · 1 year

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Nimble fingers:

Asking permission is just something not in Rukia’s set of manners. It’s a developed habit from her time in Rukongai that still manifests itself on occasion; she leans more towards ‘Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission’. There are some exceptions of course, typically in more noble settings, if there’s a full on rule enforcement, or if there is particularly a sort of respect that is expected or actually there that requires such a thing(difference in rank for example).

Similarly, she also nabs objects without asking, something that is instinctual and she does without much thought. It is shown often in the world of the living as she doesn’t quite have to deal with much of the consequences there, but it’s not bound to there. In the world of the living, in canon, she has been shown to steal things like the cleaning brush from school, Yuzu’s clothes, and the school uniform she makes use of. Probably old magazines or manga she’s stolen from people and places to learn ‘human mannerisms’ are also included. In Seireitei I picture she’s nabbed things like old busted equipment to make use of during exercises or like maps, spare keys, or umbrellas? With the maps, keys, and umbrellas she often passes them off to people within her squad while handing out tasks, like giving maps when new recruits are going to new squads, or handing out a spare closet key she has to a member when they’re going to pick something up, or handing out her surplus of umbrellas on rainy days? She probably gets lots of visits on a rainy day or does a big hand out of them lol. There’s probably other objects, but it may depend more on where she’s been or what she’s up to, or just ask me more on it.

She probably steals practice sword and blades from new recruits who aren’t paying attention just to train them to be on their guard. I picture her cockily tossing their blade in her hand and then having them fight her without a sword until they get a better guard to where she can’t get it so easily.

The size of objects doesn’t deter her. Typically what will catch her eye is if it’s something she’s in need of, or if it’s something that seems like it would go unnoticed. She has an observant eye for such things, probably being able to notice if things have collected dust or if it's one thing among many that would make one missing hard to notice, or if it has no distinguishing characteristics. She wouldn’t take something that seems too personal or has value both because she has some consideration and it would be easily traced back to her(house keys, art, jewelry, etc.). I wouldn’t say she is a kleptomaniac, but she does take things sometimes without thinking too strongly of making use of it, maybe seeing it a bit more of a challenge and that she just doesn’t listen to the boundaries of things in her reach as much as she should. Sometimes it has to do with her mood if she wants to nab something. On the occasion she just likes to look at the world as a challenge and prove herself almighty and it’s a reliable way to prove she still has skill. Part of it strays from a child thief’s mentality to always be prepared, so she grabs what could be necessary at some point.

If you told her not to take something she would hold herself off, but as long as there hasn’t been an expressed denial she considers it open and she won’t outright ask if she can have something, This also goes with how she just tends to be pretty physical and just follows her gut. She’s more than happy to share her loot with others, but also probably won’t tell you where she got it unless you expressly ask and maybe insist to an extent.

#tsp activity check #;Headcanons #;I was gonna maybe say she has an old lootpile probably in Ichigo's closet #;but I also think that might be the one time she returned all her stolen things at the time of writing her letter #;because she did not think she was coming back and needed to erase traces of herself :')#;I had a teacher before tell a class not to ask questions unless we wanted the answer #;which was to say if you asked a question and got a 'no' then it was not allowed for a project #;but if you or anyone never asked a question and it was never specified #;then you were free to do whatever which is a terrible habit for me now to never ask questions #;but sort of a great mentality for the muse asdf

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