#antique bookseller

[themadbard]

You all should check out my new Instagram account for bookselling. Rare books and collectibles! Free shipping the US!

Just look up Geddes Rare Books and you'll find me.

Also please reblog it'd really help.

[arcane-offerings]

Martha Rampton. Trafficking with Demons: Magic, Ritual, and Gender from Late Antiquity to 1000. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2021. Hardcover edition. 465 pages.

Shop link in bio.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Arcane Offerings (@arcaneofferings)

[midnights-wish]

channel: tom ayling title: 'rare book expert reacts to crazy valuation ❦ shakespeare first folio (1623)'

[honeyburn-books]

#booksforsale #bookstagram #books #bookstore #bookshop #bookstagrammer #vintagebooks #bibliophile #bookseller #vintage #booklover #booksale #bookshelf #booksofinstagram #oldbooks #usedbooks #antiques #book #booksbooksbooks #booksph #darkacademia #hauntedatticbooks #rarebooks #vintagebooksforsale #vintagehorrorpaperbacks #antiquarianbooks #antique #antiqueshop #booksandcoffee #booksarelife • Tags by @withhashtag https://www.instagram.com/p/CouwZEbokTQ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[neil-gaiman]

I've recently befriended a local antique bookseller- this lovely old man with an impressive collection.

I asked him one day, while I was looking through his Shakespeare collection, how long he'd had his shop for and he told me that he'd been selling his books for over 47 years. I was astonished and told him how it was a dream of mine to own a store like this one day but then a customer came in negotiating a price to sell him some of her daughter's old literature. He told her that he was sorry but already had more books than he could possibly manage to sell and she left, a bit disappointed.

Then he sat in his armchair next to where I was perusing and he told me in a huff, returning to our previous conversation:

"Buying the books was always more fun than selling them."

That immediately stuck with me and I thought I'd share because I think it's lovely that even human antique booksellers share Aziraphale's sentiment!

Aziraphale's bookselling tactics are based on several real-life booksellers of Terry's and my acquaintance. Not all of them. But many.

[mrghostrat]

Not sure if someone asked this but what are your favorite fics? You’re probably my favorite fanfic author at the moment and I need some recommendations!

fuck yes rec time!! it's been a while since i recced my favourites. i'll try to avoid reccing the same classic fandom fics that everyone else does, so hopefully you'll find something new!

but as always, we start with First Class (Hons) by heloluv because i can't believe this fic doesn't have 100k+

The Rose Thief and the Priest by ImprobableDreams900 human au, horticulturalist!crowley wooing priest!aziraphale to try and get a rose cutting from the church garden

because thinking makes it so by NaroMoreau, summerofspock human au, "straight" and divorced aziraphale is a new employee in crowley's office where crowley is an IT guy. they start as friends with benefits

Soho by Lurlur human au, aziraphale runs a bookshop and crowley is a rockstar that wanders on in

Never Have I Ever (Been Myself) by FeralTuxedo human au, aziraphale is a famous actor who stars in a music video for crowley and anathema's rock band

The Bizarre Demons of AZ Fell & Co Antique Booksellers by WorseOmens good omens x buzzfeed unsolved crossover that makes me laugh every time

Raspberry Ripple by FeralTuxedo human au, crowley watches aziraphale eat ice cream on a bench every day at lunch, and devises a plan to go sit with him one day. another laugh out loud

First Thing In The Morning by FeralTuxedo human au, aziraphale is a famous author who bumps into childhood friend/crush crowley at a book signing.

(sobs omg im sorry for so much feraltuxedo i can't get enough of their fics)

Celestial Bodies by Justkeeptrekkin canon compliant, getting together, beautiful beautiful prose of nonhuman intimacy

To reveal my heart in ink by chaoticlivi canon compliant, aziraphale starts handwriting crowley letters just because he misses the format. it becomes easier to spill certain feelings on the page and their letters get very saucy n intimate.

Talk about the weather by nightbloomingcereus human au, aziraphale is a weather man meteorologist and crowley is a storm chaser.

If A Man... by Tartan_Temptation human au, crowley has some Alone Time on his balcony in the middle of the night, but someone sees him. so what if i read this every night for a week straight????? don't look at me.

it's probably not worth reccing since it's been removed from ao3 and only accessible after a five round brawl with the waybackmachine in an arby's parking lot, but i have to mention litany in which certain things are crossed out by Ayes/sayesayes changed my brain chemistry and GOD i wish it was still up...........

[tutuntuntuinen]

Best Fics 2024 edition

I read 57 fics last year, transferred to a traditional book pages, it's over 10 000 pages. And yes, it's all ✨Ineffable Husbands✨. I have a catalogue and I mark and rate all fics I read. And here are my favourites from 2024!

(See all the tags and warnings from AO3 page, fic names are links to AO3.)

stalwart sun, wily moon by @dustandhalos (Heist AU) Rated M, Words 369 969 My comment: They are both working with art, Aziraphale fixes the antiques, Crowley steals it. I read this 2 times last year, it is my all time favourite. I will read it again this year. Yes, it's a long one, but it is so wholesome and it has everything (not smut though). It broke my heart and fixed it later and nurtured my soul. I'm a fan.

Mon Horrible Chéri by @mrghostrat Rated E, Words 39 954 My comment: They are teachers and they go to Paris with a whole class. They hate each other! Enemies to lovers and so delicious. My favourit part is this small scene from the theatre (minor spoilers): "The air swept out of Aziraphale’s lungs and he stared blankly at the stage. He couldn’t hear a thing for all the blood suddenly rushing to his ears, boiling from the heat that exuded from Crowley’s thigh. It didn’t move, didn’t bounce. Just sat there, flushed against his own, positioned knee to knee and thigh to thigh, securely and intentionally." Like... that's... someones knee touching yours but Ghostrat makes it the whole world! Also the illustrations are soo good!

Big Name Feelings by @mrghostrat (Fandom AU) Rated E, Words 103 997 My comment: Another one from Ghostrat. "Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him." This, too, is so well written and also with lots of illustrations and custom emojis.

Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost by TheOldAquarian (@darkpurpledawn) Rated G, Words 3 027 My comment: This fic is basicly a review section of Crowleys Airbnb apartment, which is in Mayfair and has a lot of house plants and frequent angel like visitor. It is HILARIOUS! "Don’t post a close-up picture of that statue of the two angels, Instagram WILL remove it." Pray For Us, Icarus by Atalan (@brightwanderer) Rated G+T, Words 67 805 (Parts 1-7) My comment: This is a heart breaking story and it's so good and well written. "For three centuries, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has tried to find a way to restore him to his true self, but all he seems to do is hurt them both. This time, he only means to steal a brief moment when he walks into Crowley's flower shop. But Crowley can't let it go…"

What We Make of It (Shotgun Wedding) by @charlottemadison42 Rated E, Words 213 340 My comment: Crowley is Adam's guardian and Aziraphale is Adam's English teacher. Our heroes meet and you know what happens. But because their jobs, there are legal issues and they can't have a romantic relationship. So what to do? Panic, angst, be recless! Great story with all the kids and other characters.

Or Be Nice by @charlottemadison42 Rated E, Words 151 368 My comment: "A human AU in which Aziraphale is a bookseller, Crowley is a drummer, and they are both petty disasters in the worst/best way." Also they are neighbours. This is so FUN!! And also sweet. The pranks they make each other are delightful!

Slow Show by mia_ugly (@mia-ugly) / Podfixx (@podfixx) Rated E, Words 95 505 My comment: I have listened the podfic by Podfixx two times last year. Slow Show is a whole story with our favourite heroes who are co-stars of a popular television program. I love when the characters have a past and it shows and it affects everything they do. It makes the story go deep. I love this!

sanctuary by @moonyinpisces Rated T, Words 22 635 My comment: "Whatever’s happened, Aziraphale doesn’t like it. Change. Such a dreadful invention. (One of Crowley’s, undoubtedly)." This fic has so many things I can't even remember all the things I loved in it (I should read it again!). I think the biggest thing was that it triggered my religious trauma some how and the way Aziraphale had to deal with all the things made in the name of Christianity. And still he could love and be loved.

We Only Said Goodbye with Words, I Died A Hundred Times by ras_elased Rated E, Words 9 333 My comment: This is a hurricane of dialogue and emotions. It was (checks the catalogue) february, when I read this, so I can't remember too much (should re-read). But after reading this I was so impressed it made it's way in this list!

---

There were also other great fics! If you are interested in my lists, you can contact me. I'm very open to fic recommendation exhange! There are great fics from year 2023 which are not mentioned here, but are superfabulous!

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 74: Fitz's Metronome

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, body control, emotional abuse, torture, captivity, hypnosis

September 1905

With a cold, stiff hand resting just on top of his head, Fitz was marched out of the dank basement like a marionette. He couldn't even find relief from being done with Lex's torture -- for now, at least -- because he was drowning in terror at his own fate, wondering if he'd ever control his own body again.

The Maestro had carried the weak lantern with him, so that Fitz could see a bit of the manor surrounding him. The oppressive patterns of the wallpaper, the dark wood door frames with their yawning openings, the intricately carved wooden furniture, all of it seemed to swallow what little light there was. The main floor of the manor was less obviously a prison than the basement where Lex had been chained, but it was a prison nonetheless.

Was this where he'd spend the rest of his days, in the dark, cold gloom? Would he die here?

His new master led Fitz into a room which seemed slightly more welcoming than the others. It was a music room, and what he could see was filled with antique instruments in perfect condition. Polished horns sat in neat brackets on the walls, violins and other stringed instruments rested in their stands, and an antique piano occupied the center of the room.

Fitz's body came to a stop in the middle of the room, standing as still as a statue, with Fitz hardly even able to blink. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Maestro pull a measuring tape from his pocket. He measured the circumference of Fitz's chest and stomach, the lengths of his legs and arms, the length and width of his feet, and more, while Fitz's automatically body shifted to accommodate the measurements.

It reminded Fitz of the last time he'd been measured so thoroughly, that night in the auction house where he'd first met Lex. He'd been scared out of hits wits then, too, but he'd also had hope, hope that his charm and charisma and ability to look great in a red velvet ballgown would earn him a permissive master. Fitz couldn't muster up any such hope now. There would be no softening of Lex's sire, no manipulation to earn privileges, not when he wasn't even allowed to speak.

The Maestro sat down at a nearby desk, leaving Fitz standing stiff as a board in the middle of the room. He dipped a pen in ink and wrote out a note, then rang a small brass bell. A moment later, a tired-looking older man in a modest black suit appeared at the door.

"Fetch clothes appropriate for these measurements. I have another new thrall this evening."

His eyes flicked over to Fitz very, very briefly. "Yes, sir," he said, exiting the room as swiftly as he appeared.

Another new thrall? Fitz wondered how many he had. But he didn't have much time to wonder, because the Maestro stood before Fitz again, running an icy hand below his chin and tilting his head up to meet his eyes.

His eyes were as deep as the ocean and as dark as a moonless night, and Fitz couldn't look away from them, even as he felt their pull. He was being enthralled. His new master wasn't simply content with controlling every movement of Fitz's body. He was trying to control Fitz's mind too. Fitz could feel himself scrabbling for purchase, trying to keep his grip on his thoughts even as they began to slip from his grasp.

"That's it, child," he said in that dreadfully melodic voice. "You will look deeply into my eyes, and you will lose yourself. Your mind, your body, and your will are all mine, to do with as I must."

He slipped. He was falling, falling, falling down a pitch-black well that seemed to go on for miles and miles. His thoughts began to empty as he sank further into a daze, unable to resist the thick blanket of control that was smothering him.

"Fitzwilliam de Hastings. Third son of the de Hastings family and an abject disappointment in every conceivable way. Am I correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Despite that unfortunate history, you may be excellent raw material." A porcelain thumb stroked Fitz's cheek just below his eye. "Your parents didn't have the strength, the knowledge, or the time to mold you into anything better than this pathetic creature, did they? Despite having little understanding of humans, I can be certain that they did not love nor care for you. If they had cared for you, they wouldn't have left your talents and better qualities to rot and spoil."

Fitz was sinking so deeply under his spell that he couldn't muster even an internal denial to any of this. No, his parents most certainly didn't care for him. They probably thought it was just as well that Fitz was gone, if they even gave it any thought.. His heart ached with the jealousy he'd felt each time his father praised his golden older brother, praise that Fitz would never hear himself.

"If someone had cared about you, they would have corrected your personality."

No, that wasn't right, couldn't have been right. Correcting Fitz was all his father ever did, and he knew that his father hadn't cared about him, would've just as soon not had a useless third son.

"Make no mistake, child, I certainly don't care for you either. I would be incapable of such a thing, even if you did deserve such tender treatment," said the Maestro, pulling Fitz in slightly closer. "I don't care for you, but I have time. All the time in the world, and some dim flicker of curiosity. Curiosity to see if I can mold something like you into something perfect. That is why I am prepared to do you a great mercy."

"Mercy…" Fitz's voice came out as a pleading whine.

"Yes, a mercy. I will be the one to correct your vile personality. Despite your deficiencies, I think you understand that it has brought you nothing but suffering. A lifetime of poor choices and waste."

Fitz wanted to deny it, but it was his choices that brought him here, wasn't it? If he hadn't pursued the stage, if he hadn't taken Miss Lily's bet, if he hadn't charmed Lex…

His master suddenly broke his gaze and released Fitz, who was still falling, lost in his spell. The servant from earlier had arrived silently, and handed the Maestro a set of neatly folded clothes with a deep bow. The Maestro looked over the clothes and nodded at the servant, who exited the room with an unnaturally rhythmic gait.

Fitz knew that would be him, a puppet on strings, fit only to serve, and the cruel voice in his head whispered that maybe it was all he was good for.

The Maestro turned back to Fitz and began unbuttoning his shirt, one button after the next. His chest was exposed to the cold, damp air of the manor, but under his master's power, he could hardly even shiver. There was nothing he could do to resist as one leg lifted, and then the other, allowing the Maestro to remove his shoes and socks, followed by his pants.

As his clothing was removed and set aside, Fitz was reminded that he was wearing his stage magician's costume. He'd had a performance just earlier tonight, his last. It already seemed like ages had passed since them.

And then he was standing utterly nude before his new master, body fully controlled and mind ensorcelled, with no protection and nowhere to hide.

Fortunately, the Maestro didn't seem to care for Fitz's nude body. He wasted no time dressing Fitz in the clothing the servant had brought. The drab suit was scratchy and uncomfortable, and it was such a small thing, but Fitz couldn't help but despair at it. A lifetime in uncomfortable, stuffy clothes.

Once Fitz was dressed, the Maestro examined him this way and that, pinching at the cloth here and drawing it upwards there. "This will require some tailoring, but that can be handled later. It's an improvement for now." He tossed Fitz's old clothes to the side like rags and rang the bell once more. The servant arrived to collect them, and then the only possessions Fitz had left were gone.

The Maestro gestured to the piano, and Fitz's body moved to sit on the bench. He was going to have to play, and Fitz already knew his meager skills and repertoire of popular ragtime tunes wouldn't satisfy his master. There was a metronome with a shining brass arm sitting on the top of the piano, a surprisingly modern touch.

His master reached past Fitz's shoulder and started the metronome in a slow rhythm, and Fitz couldn't help but watch it and listen to its tock-tock-tock. His fogged mind wondered when the Maestro would make him start playing, but as the minutes dragged on, he realized that he wasn't going to play. No, all he could do was sit there and watch the metronome.

Almost experimentally, he tried to turn his eyes away, and found that he could not. His master had taken hold of his very eyes, keeping them glued tightly to the metronome's arm. Now he was aware of the way his eyes were being forced to follow, and he couldn't help but try to resist it, with a spike of panic. Resisting it was like walking through a wall, or struggling against thick chains, and it only made his pupils jitter strangely, the metronome's arm going briefly out of focus.

"You will allow the rhythm to enter your head," said the melodic voice near his ear. "You will allow it to govern your thoughts, your movements. You will allow your own thoughts to fade."

Fitz could feel it, the way his thoughts were slowing and swirling in time with the metronome, the way his emotions were growing dim. He dug in, determined to stubbornly fight it as long as possible. Even if it was futile, he didn't want to go out easily.

"Everything you are, everything that is not me will fade away. You cannot fight this. You will not fight this. You are weak and you know that you will slip."

He tried to pull whatever happy memories he had from the recesses of his mind, one last moment of fun before the doom. Taking his bows to raucous applause. Laughing and drinking with fellow actors after a show. Bluffing his way to a poker jackpot.

"The only sound in your head is the rhythm. The only thoughts in your mind are mine."

tock - tock - tock

Dancing in the music room with Lex. Lex holding him while he fell asleep. The night he'd finally got up the courage to kiss him.

"The only desire left to you is servitude. You will submit."

No --

"You will submit. Blank. Empty. A doll on which to impose my will."

Lex wouldn't want him this way. Lex wanted him just the way he was.

But…

As Fitz was kissing Lex in his mind's eye, he saw that handsome face with a silver knife jammed into the eye, dark blood dripping from the wound in a rhythm like

tock - tock - tock

Fitz knew he wasn't worth it. Fitz could never have been worth all of that.

tock - tock - tock

"You will feel relief as you are washed clean. It is the only relief you will have for some time, so I suggest you savor it."

His mind swirled with the images of Lex's tormented body lying motionless on the basement floor.

tock - tock - tock

Relief. Yes, he wanted relief. He didn't want to see that any more.

"No more thoughts. No more wants. No more needs. No more distractions or decisions. You are my doll to pose, to mold, to break. My empty vessel. You are better this way. Far, far better."

One more memory flashed into Fitz's rapidly fading mind. His father looming over him, so tall and so stern, and all Fitz wanted was to please him, but he never did. He grabbed Fitz's arm too tight. It hurt, and Fitz bit back tears. "Why can't you just do as you're told?"

He wanted to. He wanted to just do what he was told so badly, but he couldn't.

"Yes, Fitzwilliam," said his master. "You will never again have to despair at not doing what you're told. I will make you do what you are told, always. I will make you perfect."

Tears were dripping down his chin in the same rhythm as the metronome. "Thank you, sir."

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week, Vivian is on Alexander's trail.

Thanks so much for reading this story. The feedback I get always brightens my days.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush @cepheusgalaxy

@whump-me-harder @whump-till-ya-jump @the-monarch-whumperfly

[ojamajoprincess]

it just sort of boggles my mind that aziraphale and crowley, despite being occult, non-humans who a) don't age, and b) actually stick around in places for a long time (the bookshop is easily 300 years old), are just perceived as human men by the people around them. we as the audience know they are infinitely aged yet unaging angel and a demon/ fallen angel, but the humans they meet don't. And they don't assume any different.

they probably think, yeah ok just some guy, a bit off, a bit queer, a bit of a bastard actually, and leave it at that. And in modern times, among their proximal environment of Soho, the perception of them boils down to oh that's the eccentric but obviously gay bookseller who never seems to actually, uh, sell the books and dresses only in period dress (suppose he likes history bounding), and there's his obviously gay goth boyfriend/husband with his antique car, what a functional middle aged married couple.

[cruel-hiraeth]

*gets comfortable on your couch

i’m listening. i know you love talking about your most favorite most beloved harbinger 🌝💛

this is all below the cut because i have exactly 1 (one) modicum of self respect. this is the most embarrassing thing i’ve ever done online.

a couple of notes:

right now, this is a canon-divergent au, so the “traveler” does not exist.

while i haven’t decided which region i’d be from yet, this all takes place in liyue, and i’m not from liyue. so i’m a foreigner with few interpersonal ties.

our dynamic is very one-sided enemies to lovers because i really can't stand him, whereas he’s a soft/subtle yandere because he knows from the first time he sees me that i’m “it” for him. but it’s a slow burn because he’s in it for the long haul.

i live and work in liyue when we meet. i’m not anyone particularly special or noteworthy; i simply work with an antique bookseller, interested in learning the ropes. i have an interest in not just regional literature, but international literature, and i hope to start my own business someday.

the 11th fatui harbinger is doing what he always does: shady business. he’s on a particularly lengthy mission (which may or may not involve trying to topple the government) at northland bank. since he’s in liyue for months and acts essentially as a diplomat, he knows the city inside and out. he has his eye on me for a while. i notice him because i’m aware of the fatui—his clothing gives him away. but i have no interest in becoming friendly with him because everyone knows the fatui is bad news.

eventually, childe stops by and pretends like he’s interested in the books (he is but not for the right reasons) and our rapport begins there. he’s charming, but i’m allergic to charm as someone who’s inherently distrustful… i also just dislike him off the bat. i very obviously dodge all his flirting attempts.

after some period of time, he starts asking questions—trying to get to know me—and i’m begrudging with my responses. but also he’s a paying customer (one of our highest paying customers, to my disdain) so i must be civil and engage without divulging too much. with our encounters becoming more and more frequent, he becomes more forward (i.e. he not-so-subtly asks me out) and i always say know. he’s persistent and i turn him down without fail. annoyingly, he doesn’t get discouraged by my rejection; in fact, he kind of (very much) relishes in it—it makes cracking me all the more rewarding.

the timeline in my mind isn’t set in stone, but this continues for at least a year. i try to live my life and he remains a thorn in my side. but there comes a point when he visits me late one night as i’m closing shop that he’s returning to snezhnaya, unsure of if/when he will return. and he has the gall to ask—yet again—whether i’ll go on a date with him if he returns someday.

it’s kind of a ridiculous proposition, and i’m so eager to get him out of my hair (and life) that i tell him fine! i will eventually go out with you if you ever return on 1 condition. and the condition is that he has to bring me [insert an incredibly rare book that i have yet to develop lore for but is basically impossible to track down]. and only if he returns with said book in hand will i grace him with my presence on a date. and i’m truly convinced that he will never be able to find it and i continue on with my life.

fast forward a year or so: guess which fatui harbinger returns to liyue with the aforementioned book in hand, wearing a shit eating grin?

i seem to have forgotten that he's filthy rich and he works in (what is essentially) an insanely intricate intelligence organization that has tabs on all the black markets across teyvat and—yeah. he finds the book. and i'm so shocked/thrilled to see the book that i forget to be pissed for a minute.

so i go on a date with him because i’m a woman of my word. i suspect that he’s going to take me on some stupidly stuffy fancy date since he has more money than he knows what to do with. but we actually go to a hole-in-the-wall eatery that i’ve never tried even though i’ve lived in liyue for several years. and then we walk around the city at sunset and i sort of maybe find myself enjoying his company...

i kind of envision the date ending with him being humble for the first time in my presence. he says something like, “i really appreciated you going out with me tonight. i’d love to do this again sometime, but i won’t force you to." (the humility lasts for all of 3 seconds, but—maybe—i don’t hate him as much as i thought i did...)

so i say something along the lines of, “well, maybe if you get on your knees and beg me, i’ll let you take me out again.”

and then he says something gross like, “i can do a lot more on my knees that just beg~” so i immediately want to kill him again. but our relationship sort of progresses from there…

the end i’m done embarrassing myself for the evening.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Currently watching a documentary about rare book dealers as individuals and as a business. So now I'm thinking about an au where Lena is a rare/antique book seller, and Kara is a personal buyer for rich clients.

Kara has seen Lena at various auctions, often being outbid, but doesn't know much about her, aside from the fact Lena often outbids her.

Turns out Lena is a bookseller who buys rare/old books and re-sells at affordable prices, so that more people can have access to them. Her quirk is that she only sells to people who pass her vibe check-- people who love readings and love books, the people who will value and cherish the book outside of just sticking them on a shelf or behind glass.

Because books are meant to be loved. Their purpose is to be read. Treating them as museum exhibits steals the souls of the books, deprives them of being experienced.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Thank you so much for all your amazing work! I’m looking for fics where Crowley has a lot of baggage from a previous relationship. But he’s trying to work through it to make a new relationship with Aziraphale work.

I loved Car Trouble by SummerOfSpock and I’d love to find something that hits the same emotional beats as that one.

Hi! I'd suggest checking our #crowley/lucifer tag, as that relationship doesn't usually go well. And here are fics where's Crowley is moving on from bad relationships. Mind the tags on a few these!...

Indelible Marks by Augenblickgotter (T)

Anthony Crowley is a successful antique dealer moving from a messy breakup. Feeling the urge to prove to himself it's over and he can do something he's held off for years, he goes for his first tattoo. The fear of trying to move on is topped by a crippling fear of pain. Yet he discovers that everyone and everything leaves indelible marks, and it's up to each of us the ones we chose to take, cover, or bare and where to find our wings.

In Which the Flower Grows by Snowfilly1 (M)

"The car's too fast suddenly; Crowley doesn't want to be swept along into another new place and he thinks about stopping, pulling over somewhere for a coffee he doesn't need and won't like but that won't help. Nothing ever does." Crowley's always been a good teacher but the rest of his life is a wreck and he doesn't think moving to Tadfield and a new job in the secondary school there will be any different.

A Devil set aside for Me. by DarkAngel2891 (T)

Human AU, Aziraphale is sitting down for some reading time when a troubled young man appears in his shop.

Safe Haven by McRaider (T)

When Anthony Crowley stepped back into Aziraphale's life for the first time after eight long years missing, it became exceedingly clear with him came a world of trouble and heartache. But Aziraphale never could say no to his beloved Crowley. Can he help Crowley heal after a failed marriage, a gas-lighting ex-wife with an evil plan?

Rearrangements by sheendav (E)

Aziraphale, a lonely anxious bookseller from Soho, walks in St. James park every Wednesday and Sunday. For nearly nine months he has had various, wordless, encounters with a very handsome red-haired man with sunglasses. They have never spoken, but a strange and lovely intimacy has slowly grown between them as they share the same space, and feed the ravenous ducks by the pond. It's all been rather lovely... and then one day... the red-haired man says 'hello.' UPDATE: Rated 'E' for chapters 13 and 16, see beginning notes for warnings on all other chapters. Reads as an ACE-friendly story through Chapter 12, though acknowledges the existence of sexuality in earlier chapters.

Lavender, Chamomile, and a Rather Permanent Arrangement by southdownsraph (M)

Crowley owns the flower shop across the street from A. Z. Fell's tattoo shop, and can't help but be intrigued by the slightly eccentric, yet incredibly friendly tattoo artist. When Crowley does finally pluck up the courage to talk to him beyond the occasional pleasantries, he kicks off the beginning of a friendship that could so easily drift into something else entirely.

And the one you mentioned...

Car Trouble by summerofspock (E)

Aziraphale's car breaks down so he takes it to the first mechanic he can find. From there, his mundane life changes drastically as he finds himself befriending the man fixing his car.

- Mod D

[youryurigoddess]

A. Z. Fell & Co. bookshop and its statues, part 2

Welcome to the second part of my insane deep dive into Aziraphale’s world of slightly outdated decor, golden-colored trinkets, and their ostentatiously Greek (especially for a representative of an originally Judeo-Christian mythology) symbolism. As a short recap, the last installment covered six pieces in the northern and central sections of the bookshop plus a plot-important medal previously displayed on one of them, but currently left with the other bibelots on the bookseller’s desk. We’ll start right there, where we previously left off.

While a lot of the bookshop action plays out in the circle between the formerly discussed statues, its office part is especially close to Aziraphale himself. As the titular Guardian of the Eastern Gate, the angel consciously spends most of his time in this small space in the Eastern part of the bookshop, confined to his desk or reading stand. This means that the decorations of this area have more personal significance and are most probably used as daily reminders for him to keep his thoughts and priorities on track as much as provide pleasant distraction from the weary eyes.

The two windowsill figures of the Art Deco dancers from S1 were replaced by a somewhat similar set of twin statues by Ernest Rancoulet called Retour des Bois (Return from the Woods). Depicting a young woman accompanied by a putto, Aphrodite and Eros, frolicking in a dance through the woods and meadows. This bucolic fantasy with Aphrodite makes some sense when we consider how Aziraphale’s personal love story started (and will presumably end) in a garden, but let’s deep deeper into its protagonists. Or protagonist, actually, because what else can be told about Love itself?

Eros as the god of Desire is usually presented in art as a handsome young man, though in some appearances he is a boy full of mischief, ever in the company of his mother. It is usually under the guidance of Aphrodite when he employs his signature bow and arrows to make mortals and immortals alike to fall in love. His role in myths is mostly complementary, as a catalyst for other mythological figures and their stories, with the notable exception being the myth of Eros and Psyche, the story of how he met and fell in love with his wife.

In short, they are the original star-crossed lovers from entirely separate worlds who meet and fall in love by divine happenstance, only to be separated by Psyche’s family. Convinced by her sisters that her husband is, in fact, a vile winged serpent, Psyche breaks his one rule and the attempt to kill the monster leads her to falling in passionate love with him. Eros flees and Psyche wanders the Earth searching for him and succumbing to a series of impossible tasks reminding of those from the Scarborough Fair ballad or the more modern fairytale about Cinderella. She ultimately fails, but is saved by the healed Eros, granted immortality and the status of his equal, after which they can properly marry with a huge wedding banquet, a real feast of the gods.

In the Christian Middle Ages, the union of Eros and Psyche started to symbolize the temptation and fall of the human soul, driven by the sexual curiosity and lust from the Love’s domain, mirroring the original sin and the expulsion from Eden.

Oh, and their Latin names? Cupid and Anima. C+A.

We’ll get back to them in a minute.

According to unnecessary but extensive research, the two mid-century table lamps standing over the desk were most probably produced in France after another unspecified 19th century sculptor like the example above, although this particular putti design can be also found in the so called Hollywood regency style of the same time period. The putto is holding onto a cornucopia, a classical antiquity symbol of plenty, which then continues to the bulb section.

The cornucopia is an easily recognizable symbol of abundance, fertility and, to lesser extant, peace and good fortune. Since the horn is phallic-shaped, but hollow at the same time, it combines intimate imagery of both male and female character at the same time, which further ties into notions of fertility. In its role as a fertility symbol, the cornucopia is also usually associated with Demeter, whose small statue is also standing on the bookshop’s counter. Which seems like a recurring theme.

I saw multiple theories about Aziraphale’s centerpiece, but somehow the truth proved to be much less significant than previously thought. This roman soldier, possibly a centurion, driving his two horses in a highly decorated chariot is made from a marble powder resin composite and takes the most visible place in the Eastern part of the bookshop even though it’s seemingly one of the newest additions to Aziraphale’s collection — its author, Lorenzo Toni, was born in 1938 and became a sculpture master by the 1970s. 

At first glance, the parallel to the Marly Horses seems obvious and we could leave it basically at what was written recently on Crowley and Aziraphale’s dynamics. But here is where instead of commenting on the antique sculpture that seems to be the inspiration behind this piece or the many intricacies of Roman chariot racing I’ll do something completely unhinged — i.e., play my Greek philosophy card.

In the dialogue "Phaedrus ”, Plato presents the allegory of the chariot to explain the tripartite nature of the human soul or — you guessed it — psyche. The charioteer is the man’s Reason, the rational part that loves truth and knowledge, which should rule over the other parts of the soul through the use of logic. One of the horses, the white one, is man’s Spirit, a motivated part which seeks glory, honor, recognition and victory. The second horse, the black one, represents man’s Appetite — an ever so hungry part which desires food, drink, material wealth and physical intimacy.

And the fun part? This triad is established to analyze the madness of love. In a classical Greek context, that is not between a man and a woman, but erastes and eromenos:

The charioteer is filled with warmth and desire as he gazes into the eyes of the one he loves. The good horse is controlled by its sense of shame, but the bad horse, overcome with desire, does everything it can to go up to the boy and suggest to it the pleasures of sex. The bad horse eventually wears out its charioteer and partner, and drags them towards the boy; yet when the charioteer looks into the boy's face, his memory is carried back to the sight of the forms of beauty and self-control he had with the gods, and pulls back violently on the reins. As this occurs over and over, the bad horse eventually becomes obedient and finally dies of fright when seeing the boy's face, allowing the lover's soul to follow the boy in reverence and awe. The lover now pursues the boy. As he gets closer to his quarry, and the love is reciprocated, the opportunity for sexual contact again presents itself. If the lover and beloved surpass this desire they have won the "true Olympic Contests"; it is the perfect combination of human self-control and divine madness, and after death, their souls return to heaven.

And such a perfect combination of the motifs already introduced to us by the two Eros statues and the Head of the Victorious Athlete.

Aziraphale might be a titular Companion to Owls (or, to be precise, the companion to one particular Nite Owl), but he had also made sure to have at least one owl keeping him company. And of course, the owl of Athena (who was interestingly both a bird and a snake goddess) is an absolutely conclusion here as the universal symbol of wisdom and knowledge in the Western culture, but it can’t be that easy, right?

In the Bible, you'll find that owls often symbolize something unclean and forbidden, as well as desolation, loneliness, and destruction. This symbolic significance is pointed out in Leviticus 11:16-17 and Deuteronomy 14:11-17 where owls are mentioned among the birds not to be eaten. Owls were considered unclean most likely because they are predatory creatures who eat raw flesh with the blood still in it, and that was an even bigger food safety concern for the biblical nomads than to us today.

Owls are also among the wild predators that have long dwelled in the desert lands and abandoned ruins of Egypt and the Holy Land. Both Isaiah and Zephaniah speak of owls nesting in ruined wastelands to paint symbolic images of barrenness, emptiness, and utter desolation. In Psalm 102:3–6, the owl symbolizes the loneliness of the psalmist’s tortured heart:

For my days vanish like smoke; my bones burn like glowing embers. My heart is blighted and withered like grass; I forget to eat my food. In my distress I groan aloud and am reduced to skin and bones. I am like a desert owl, like an owl among the ruins. I lie awake; I have become like a bird alone on a roof. All day long my enemies taunt me; those who rail against me use my name as a curse. For I eat ashes as my food and mingle my drink with tears because of your great wrath, for you have taken me up and thrown me aside. My days are like the evening shadow; I wither away like grass. But you, Lord, sit enthroned forever; your renown endures through all generations.

It’s a devastating, but still beautiful piece that deals with the feeling of utter rejection, the ultimate bad breakup of the relationship between a human and their God. And this… simply didn’t happen between God and Aziraphale, not even during his Job job. The angel had always considered Her love and ineffability as a given, even when the whole Heavenly Host was against him during the Non-Apocalypse. His allegiance stayed with God, not necessarily Her angels. Which brings us yet again to the motion of Crowley as the owl.

The angel and the demon are the companions to each other's loneliness, but Aziraphale’s needs seem significantly bigger than their Arrangement that he even considered a wooden substitute protectively hovering over him 24/7. He seems to be the one who is the loneliest and most rejected.

Oh, and if you think that putting a small bronze statue of a putto with a bronze putto-shaped candleholder right behind it (visible on the filing cabinet in the bottom right corner) is already a stretch, let me show you what’s on the other side of that wall.

Just like before the bookshop fire, the famous sink in the small backroom is adorned with a perfectly kitschy white plaster sculpture of The Two Cherubs, a small part of a larger painting by Raphael (the painter, not the Archangel) titled Sistine Madonna. In the painting the Madonna, holding Christ Child and flanked by Saint Sixtus and Saint Barbara, stands on clouds before dozens of obscured putti, while two distinctive winged putti rest on their elbows beneath her. with bombastic side eyes and clearly unspoken, but very controversial thoughts about the whole scene and their role in it.

With an attitude like that, there’s no wonder that the putti have inspired some legends. According to one, the original cherubs were children of one of his models they would come in to watch. Struck by their posture, he added them to the painting exactly as he saw them. Another story says that Raphael was inspired by two street urchins looking wistfully into the window of a baker's shop.

The Germans implicitly tied this painting into a legend of their own, "Raphael's Dream." Arising in the last decades of the 18th century, the legend — which made its way into a number of stories and even a play — presents Raphael as receiving a heavenly vision that enabled him to present his divine Madonna. It is claimed the painting has stirred many viewers, and that at the sight of the canvas some were transfixed to a state of religious ecstasy akin to Stendhal Syndrome (including one of Freud's patients).

Their big, seemingly cherubic companion doesn’t seem to have a specific provenance, but what’s left of his limbs might suggest that it could be an infant Jesus as well as another putto. But honestly who knows at this point.

On the other side of the same room, right at the door leading to the big backroom, there are two lamps with Auguste Moreau’s Young Lovers, a bronze sculpture depicting a courting couple on the verge of a physical embrace, holding garlands of roses and hiding under some old vines. Which aligns perfectly with the beloved romcom trope of a rain shelter leading to sudden love realizations, as well as Crowley choosing this part of the bookshop to have a word with his angel in private and then offering his advice on anything related to human love. No wonder that the angel looked at him like that.

This statue carries with it more than one allegorical interpretation, intentional or not. Arguably the most obvious one is the myth of Eros and Psyche, one we already covered in this post. But similarly to his earlier sculpture, Eros also serves here as an allegory for nature and the return to the natural state itself. Like Adam in Eden, he's unclothed and symbolically crowned as a ruler of his domain. Psyche, enamored with his confidence, is about to take her own leap of faith as her fabric restraints fall away. One could say that she's tempted to follow him into nature, deep into the garden of love.

And with that exact thought I will leave you today, dear reader. Through this analysis we learnt many things, among them two significant facts about Aziraphale: firstly, he’s an utter and incorrigible romantic, and secondly, a hoarder. Forget Crowley’s souvenirs — the amount of this angel’s statues is something else. And it isn’t even his hyperfixation!

[zorosdimples]

in an effort to assist in distracting you! how do you meet your blorbos (in whatever au or storyline you imagine)

ooohhhh this is an interesting question! some of my self ships aren’t terribly fleshed out, so i only have the general circumstances/vibes established. here we go…

zoro x kae - in my preferred (mostly) canon compliant au, we meet when i join the crew in the east blue. i join after nami but before usopp; luffy and i are actually childhood friends! while we become friends off the bat, our romance is an extreme slow burn—we’re just two idiots in love.

yuuji x kae - in my preferred everyone lives jjk verse au, yuuji and i are childhood friends. more-than-friendly feelings develop when we’re in high school, but he goes to jujutsu high, and i stay where i’m at. i attend university, he does sorcery stuff, and we lose touch for a while—until we reenter each other’s lives again.

laios x kae - okay this is probably my least developed self ship because i haven’t finished dunmeshi yet :’-) but it would definitely take place in canon. i’m leaning toward laios and i having an arranged engagement. we don’t hate each other or anything—in fact, we know each other. and we both try our hardest to postpone the nuptials as far out as possible, then run away to adventure through dungeons together and discover our feelings along the way… or something like that!

childe x kae - our “love story”—if you would call it that, gag—starts in liyue in a canon compliant au. he’s visiting diplomat (aka on confidential business as a harbinger). i’m a traveling bookseller who specializes in rare and antique books who has the misfortune of catching the eye of the harbinger in question; chaos ensues.

[inspofromancientworld]

The Divine Comedy and its Ancient Origins

By Sandro Botticelli - telegraphhttp://www.pileface.com/sollers/article.php3?id_article=312, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=122900

Dante Alighieri, commonly know just as Dante, was an Italian poet and philosopher who was most likely baptized Durante di Alighiero degli Alighieri who lived from 1265-1321. He is one of the first people who have written in the common language rather than Latin since the dominance of the Catholic Church in Western Europe. He is considered one of Italy's national poets and a poetry icon in the Western world. He influenced many authors and poets that followed him. With Petrach and Boccaccio, he is one of the three crowns of Italian literature.

By I, Sailko, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5069860

He was born in Florence, though the exact date is uncertain, thought to be 1265 because of a line from the Divine Comedy, where he says he was '[m]idway upon the journey of our life' with the assumption he meant the Biblical average of 70 years from Psalms 89:10, and that part was written in about 1300. His mother, Bella, died when he was about ten and his father, Alighiero di Bellincione, remarried quickly (probably, there were social limitations) Lapa di Chiarissimo Cialuffl, who gave birth to two children. During much of Dante's life, Northern Italy was divided between a group that supported the pope, the Guelphs, and one that supported the Holy Roman Empire, the Ghibellines. His family was on the side of the Guelphs and were forced out in 1260, but due to the family's relatively low station, they didn't suffer and were able to return after 1266, when the Guelphs retook Florence.

By Dante Gabriel Rossetti - https://sites.google.com/view/startpagina-onderwerpen/startpagina/startpagina-script, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6078047

He met Beatrice Portinari, who would influence the Divine Comedy, when he was nine and she was eight and said he fell in love 'at first sight' without exchanging a word. At the age of 12, he was promised to Gemma di Manetto Donati, who was the daughter of a prominent family. He apparently met Beatrice often, though never knew her well. He did marry Gemma, though exactly when is not sure, though it was before 1301, when he was sent into exile, and they had three children. His relationship with Beatrice is characteristic of 'courtly love', which came into fashion in France in the centuries prior to Dante, the poetry of which he studied in his schooling. He studied the writings of classical antiquity as well as philosophy.

By Giovanni Sercambi - Le Croniche di Giovanni Sercambi lucchese, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12752823

In 1289, Dante fought in one of the ongoing conflicts between the Guelphs and the Ghibelline factions of Florence. He joined the Guild of Physicians and Apothecaries in 1295 as there was a close association between philosophy and medicine at that time, as well as apothecaries and booksellers. Being a guild member allowed him to hold a public office and he held a variety of offices. Once the Ghibellines were defeated in 1301, the Guelphs split between the White Guelphs and the Black Guelphs with the Black Guelphs supporting the pope and the White Guelphs seeking freedom from Rome, and thus the pope. The white group won and expelled the black group, leading Pope Boniface VIII to plan an invasion and occupation, though he was also planning to send Charles of Valois, brother of France's King Philip IV, as an ambassador. With the poor treatment of previous ambassadors, a delegation, including Dante, was sent to the pope to persuade him to not send Charles. Pope Boniface kept Dante in Rome, though he sent the rest of the delegates back, as well as sending Charles. The Black Guelphs used that as tacit approval, destroyed a lot of Florence and killed quite a few of their enemies. As Dante was a White Guelph supporter, he was condemned to two years exile due to being corrupt and financial wrongdoing. He was also fined which he did not pay as he felt he was innocent of the crimes and all his property had be seized. Because of these beliefs, he was contemned to perpetual exile, which was lifted in 2008.

Even through the exile, Dante tried to aid the White Guelphs to regain power, which failed because of treason. The backbiting of the former allies disgusted Dante. He spent the rest of his life traveling around Italy and possibly into France and, less likely, even Oxford. In 1310, the Holy Roman Emperor Henry VII of Luxembourg impressed Dante as a potential second Charlemagne and wrote to him, asking him to destroy the Black Guelphs.

By Petar Milošević - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=56077296

In 1318, Dante was invited to stay in Ravenna and stayed there until his death in 1321, likely of quartan malaria he contracted while acing as ambassador to Venice. In 1329, Dante's Monarchia, which reflects on the division of secular and sacred authority, was determined to be 'heretical' by the nephew of Pope John XXII, who happened to be a Cardinal. He wanted to burn Dante's bones at the stake because of this, but the Lord of Polenta, Ostasio, interceded to prevent this. In 1829, Florence built a tomb for Dante, but Dante's remains continue to be in Ravenna.

By Henry Cary(Life time: 1804-1870) - Original publication: Edward Moxon, Dover St, LondonImmediate source: Memoir of Rev Henry Francis Cary, M.A. Translator of Dante, by his son, Rev Henry Cary, M.A., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=34949926

Henry F Cary was one of the first translators of the Divine Comedy in 1808. When he translated it, he translated it as blank verse, using a regular meter, but not a regular rhyming pattern. He was born in Gibraltar in 1772 and was a British author and reverend. He died in 1844. He was ordained in 1797 after studying French and Italian at Christ Church, Oxford.

By Domenico di Michelino/ After Alesso Baldovinetti - https://twitter.com/museofirenze/status/1075345296048181248This is a retouched picture, which means that it has been digitally altered from its original version. Modifications: brightened image., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=133465311

The Divine Comedy, with the word 'comedy' meaning it reflects an orderly universe with the ending guided by the ultimate good planned out by some Providential will. It was written from about 1308 through 1321, just before Dante died. It is divided into three parts, Inferno (or Hell), Purgatory, Paradise, and the levels therein, reflecting the journey of the human soul from sin through penance, and finally, the ascent to God. In this journey of 14,233 lines divided into three cantiche, each of which is further subdivided into 33 canti with an additional canto serving as an introduction. It also used rhyme scheme 'ABA, BCB, CDC, DED…' in eleven syllable long lines, further embedding the numbers 3 and 11 into the poem. Each of the three locations is divided into 9+1 levels, Hell being 9 rings plus Lucifer in the middle, Purgatory being 9 rings around Mount Purgatory with the Garden of Eden at the top, then Paradise being nine celestial bodies plus Empyrean, where God resides. Each of the three main parts also end with the same word 'stelle' or 'stars'.

By Anonymous - http://www.buzzle.com/articles/virgil-publius-vergilius-maro-roman-poet.html, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17237420 and By Anonymous French engraver - This file has been extracted from another file, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=133626104 and By After Lysippos - Jastrow (2006), Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1359807

In the poem, Dante is guided by Virgil, a Roman poet who wrote the Aeneid, among other poems, who is also a mentor to Dante, with the Aeneid praised alongside the Bible, using the same language for the two, setting them as equals. Ovid, another poet who wrote the Metamorphoses and lived at almost the same time as Virgil, Lucan, and Statius are also held up as role models for their writing styles and mythology. Aristotle makes an appearance in the poem as well, building the foundation of the way the world is presented in the Divine Comedy, just as Aristotle was held as the foundation of thought at the time. Virgil in the poem also cites Cicero by explaining why 'sins of intellect are worse than sins of violence' as explored in canto XVIII of the Inferno. Dante's language also reflects a reliance on the Latin Vulgate translation of the Bible, which was commissioned in 382. There are about 500 direct quotes or references to the Vulgate.

You can read the whole poem translated by Henry F Cary here.

You can watch Overly Sarcastic Productions' summaries here: Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradisio and on Dante.

[ddagent]

30 seconds :) love your work

You are so sweet! I hope you enjoy! <3

The bookshop on the corner of Whickber Street was a curious one. For years, the opening hours had been sporadic: sometimes there would be a kindly, yet fussy man inside, shooing out whatever customer wandered in; sometimes it would be closed, curtains drawn, with whispered secrets and hushed footsteps - and the occasional sound of a pistol. That all changed six years ago. Suddenly the shop was open everyday, the kindly bookseller (while still fussy) seemed rather amiable. No more secrets. No more late night visitors. And no more gunfire.

After all, this was now just a bookshop. No longer a safe house for Upstairs.

All things considered, Aziraphale was rather glad he was no longer a spy. The late hours, the ruined clothes - more than once, some imbecile on the opposite side had shot through a perfectly good Austen or Hardy without the slightest consideration. No, Aziraphale was glad that the Angel had retired after the ceasefire. The only downside to his retirement, of course, was that he could no longer see the Serpent. Such a dashing spy. They'd gone undercover once or twice. Had a rather lascivious snog in the backroom of this very bookshop.

Another life.

The bell tinkled above the door. Aziraphale, customer service smile in place, went to greet the delivery driver. "Good morning. A new shipment?"

"Seems like it, Mister Fell. Sign here?" Aziraphale signed his name with a flourish, noting it was the first run of the new memoir he had been waiting for. "Anything exciting?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. It's another memoir from an honest-to-God spy. I've heard that this one is especially riveting."

The driver gave a polite nod and left Aziraphale with his books. Determined to be the first to read it, Aziraphale turned the sign on the front door and slipped open the parcel tape with an antique letter opener. He wondered who it was. Gabriel, perhaps. Or Michael. Sandalphon had already released his memoir - Aziraphale had refused to stock it; it had quickly slipped down the bestseller charts. Maybe it's even someone from the other side, he thought. Maybe I'm even mentioned.

Taking out the first copy, Aziraphale was greeted by a warm yellow cover and the title: Angel on my Shoulder: Falling in Love with my Opposite Number by Agent C. Aziraphale was, quite honestly, disappointed. It wasn't a codename he recognised; probably one of the lesser agents cashing in on the recent media attention. Still, he would read it.

Maybe he'd learn a thing or two.

Give me a number - that’s how many seconds I’ll spend thinking of an Aziraphale/Crowley AU to write for you in 200 words or more.