#especially since oc already has a defense in revolution

[the-kipsabian]

i really want kip to win the title if the chance for a title match happens but at the same time im not ready for the discredit, ridicule and mockery that will follow simply because now your international champion would be kip sabian

cant just fucking win with this one

[voidsentprinces]

I am seeing some weird defensiveness in the community lately so, I thought I’d write a little something up on my thoughts regarding it. Because though I love Final Fantasy XIV, my experience getting into it seems to begun to echo through the influx of WoW Refugees coming. So before I go forward let me say, I enjoy FFXIV. I think Shadowbringers is the best MMORPG story, I’ve ever been through. That being said, Heavensward was over hyped for me and Stormblood might be slightly worse than ARR for dividing its focusing among two separate revolutions. One which takes up a sizeable chunk of the game and doesn’t impact it until precisely the penultimate quest before the end of the main Stormblood MSQ. That being said, I have like 50 Million Alts and am planning an OC AU Comic to be posted eventually. With that out of the way let me say my peace:

I am glad, there is a surge of new players in FFXIV but like...ARR is still a hurdle. The story time meanders, it rarely finds focus and it feels very monster of the week up until the very end and not every player is going to wait or want to wait for that whole “It gets better later” spiel. If a game doesn’t grab a player within its first few hours, its its own fault. Another wave of new MMOs doing something different is on its way. Between New World and Ashes of Creation, the MMO Market is about to be bombarded with potential once more. After Endwalker, ARR is gonna have to be polished and shifted even more to compensate because the stagnation of the last twenty odd years ain’t cutting it no more. MMORPGs gonna have to sink or swim. No matter how much I like this game, I am not going to be writing home about how surprising the twist behind the ambush before Ifrit was. Or that same story beat is used in quick succession for Laurentius and again for Tiduslayer also being an imposter or for Thancred being possessed by Lahabrea or how it turns out the Inquisitor is also an imposter spy.

Like ARR has one twist beat and it is always that someone is a spy or isn’t who they say they are and it never refreshens it. By the end of Post-ARR its the same story beat they used for Ungust and that’s like Hours of Content that amounts to, “Yeah so, here’s another person who isn’t who they say they are.” Final Fantasy XIV is a fantastic game and all, but the incoming population shouldn’t be expected to stick around especially if we as community keep hyping up, “Oh it gets better in Heavensward” or “Oh Shadowbringers is where its at”. You set the expectations too high and they’re going to expect the second coming of Christ and as we saw with Cyberpunk 2077 or No Mans Sky or hell who remembers Spore? You put too much stock in something it is never, ever going to deliver on that promise.

I came to FFXIV during WoW Legion which is turning out to be the last good thing that MMO has done. And the grind, the overused story beats, and the world did not warm itself to me. It wasn’t until BFA that I actually broke into FFXIV and the only reason I broke through ARR is because I had already done the same thing with Dark Souls. A game about banging your head against a wall until it submits itself in defeat out of pity. Pretty sure general population didn’t get into Dark Souls either.

Point is, I am starting see a lot of defensiveness when a WoW Refugee comes over and isn’t instantly enamored with FFXIV and goes to try something else. If someone is turned off by something and goes to do something else they aren’t worst for it and they didn’t personally break into your house and steal your pets. They’re giving valid criticisms as to why it just didn’t connect with them. No one should have to get use to a look or a story. The story and look should be there to draw them in. Serve as a way to hook them and if it doesn’t there is little you can do about it.

And actually now that I think of it, I feel the need to quote a game critic talking about Dark Souls that I feel holds true for FFXIV experience and how the community seems to have to hint at it getting better at certain story beats later on:

“Now, I never reviewed Dark Souls because other titles were out and my playtime was limited, and every time I sat down to it, it was like walking into a dark shed full of rakes, immediately treading on one and getting blatted in the face. Other people with more time on their hands started telling me it was the greatest thing since tummy-rubs, so I'd go back in the shed thinking, "Well, maybe there was just the one rake," before BLAT in the face again!

So I left it for a while, but this week with plenty of free time in my schedule, I thought to myself, "Last chance! I'll just keep tanking the rakes and maybe I'll somehow become really psychotically into being rake-faced just in time to be prepared for the sequel." And I'll be blatted in the face with a rake if that isn't kind of what happened. I've been raking myself all week right up to bedtime, I'm at risk of going blind!

You see, I resisted Dark Souls partly because people kept telling me, "It's good once you're used to it" and I've always held that the same thing can be said about being boiled alive, so I'd ask them to explain why it's good and they'd reply, "Ooh, we can't tell you. You'll just have to find out for yourself." And then I'd say, "Shut up or fuck off, ideally both, in either order!" But then after watching a decent Lets Play of the game, gone over the wiki a few times and a six week preparation with a team of advisors and physical trainers, I was able to break through the wall. And I suppose that's the first failing of Dark Souls; that you need the fucking Cliff's Notes to get into it.”

Final Fantasy XIV A Realm Reborn treads the same road and is unfortunately the entry point in the series and not everyone is built to do the grind all over again after coming from another MMO. Heavensward is an okay story, the aether currents if you’re not an altoholic like me are irritating to track down especially if, like me, you pick up flying to finish exploring a zone. Stormblood leaves much to be desired from the way it sort of forces Lyse down your throat to the way Hien just sort of goes about thing a little too pragmatically to be called a hero and doesn’t enamor any more confidence during Yotsuyu’s amnesia arc. Shadowbringers is the moment the story becomes about you. Which is kind of strange in the context that an MMO should make you feel like you are the central character and WoW’s greatest failing is in that the world changes about you and you have little say in how things actually unfold. It is a difficult balance to find but one Shadowbringers has done beautifully.

But again, to have to drag yourself through a two expansions to get to the actual goods while having the ever present need of FOMO to be with your friends. ARR certainly isn’t doing the influx any favors.

I am happy our community is welcoming and that there is a sizeable group of people sticking with it til the good stuff. To expect everyone to immediately become entranced by this new world we’re being thrown into is a little silly.

I am sure no one I follow or who can see this is causing an uproar but hey it never hurts to just get it out my system. Oh hey and there’s only 3 months until Endwalker. Here’s hoping for another solid expansion folks. Be excellent to one another even those who only stick around for five minutes and then leave the game for something else.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 10 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter ten 

~|Emily Fox|~

I see Charlie again on Thursday and Friday. He sorts the invoices since he’s the pro at deciphering Ash’s handwriting while I clean up anything that’s askew and sweep the floor. We steal glances every now and again, but neither of us says anything. We just smile at each other, knowing exactly what we want to do, but not daring to do so. Maybe for now, the knowing is enough. On Saturday evening, he brings the boys with him, just as he promised on Wednesday. It’s an hour before closing time, so they have to keep themselves busy while I handle the very last few customers. Which they do by keeping their eyes on me and laughing at my customer-service-tactics. Balling up the fists, the fake laughs, the straining against the eyeroll. “There you go,” I say to a middle-aged man, shopping with his son for some essentials for his guitar. “Have a nice day. Bye!” My smile immediately vanishes as soon as the customers have turned their backs to me, which sends the boys into a laughing fit. Now I don’t hold back rolling my eyes. “Can you guys not? A girl’s working!” They immediately shut up, trying to keep straight faces. “You might want to tell her the same,” Jeremy says, pointing to the guitar section where a young girl is reaching for a guitar that’s way too high up for her, meaning she’ll probably drop it from five foot high. “Don’t touch the instruments without supervision!” I yell, causing the girl to turn her head. Her eyes widen, like a deer in headlights. When I approach her, I recognize her as Kayla. The girl who’d asked me for piano lessons. “Oh, hey Kayla!” I greet with a smile. “Changing instruments?” I reach for the one she wanted. “Yeah, he said he was going to teach me,” she points at Jeremy who’s now the one that looks like a deer caught in headlights. I raise my eyebrow at him while he slowly collapses in shame. “Jeremy, really? This is a fourteen-year-old girl!” He now raises his hands, going for the defense. “It was meant to be purely professional!” “Nothing is ever professional with you,” Charlie chimes in, agreeing with me. I glance at him, and we exchange smiles, the ones we’ve been sharing for an entire week now. “Kayla, sweetie,” I turn back to the young girl when I’ve recomposed myself, “Don’t take guitar lessons from complete strangers. Especially not when they’re named Jeremy Shada, okay?” Kayla nods her head ferociously and leaves the shop at once. “A fourteen-year-old, Jere? Really?” Owen asks now that the little girl’s gone. “You guys are acting as if I’d do something bad to her. I swear I was going to teach her how to play the guitar,” his bandmates stare at him with raised eyebrows. “And I didn’t know she was only fourteen…” The words come out in just above a whisper. I shake my head at the boys and then check my watch. Closing time. Perfect. I walk over to the door and turn the little board at the window. “So, Emily…” Owen starts as the three boys hop off the piano they’d been sitting on. “When are you going to join our band?” I instantly glare at Charlie, telling him off for telling them. “I didn’t say anything, I promise,” he says, hands up. “Say what?” Jeremy wants to know. I take a deep breath and let it out into a sigh. “That’s she’s thinking about joining the band,” Charlie admits. The boys erupt into cheers, and Jeremy even wraps me up into a hug, almost the same way Charlie did earlier this week. Only less “I want to kiss you” vibes. “I’m thinking about it. Don’t get your hopes up,” I warn them but can’t help smiling either. It warms my heart to see how excited they are to have me in their band. “There’s one way to try and convince her,” Charlie suddenly says with a teasing smirk on his face. He walks past me and towards the electric guitars where he grabs one. “Cables?” he asks me, and I point to a wooden chest behind him where we keep all of our cables for amps and stuff. He sets up his guitar, tunes it a little, then plays a sick riff I’d heard before. I go to grab all the other equipment from the back, three microphones and stands for each of them, while Jeremy grabs a bass and Owen takes a seat behind the displayed drums. They help me set up the microphones and they’re good to go. Charlie plays the riff again, then Owen counts them in and they’re off singing Now or Never again. I watch them while I start cleaning up what’s left to clean up. I sing along every now and then when I remember the lyrics from the Open Mic Night. By the time they hit the bridge, I’m sweeping near Jeremy, and decide to surprise the boys. “We ain't searching for tomorrow,” Owen sings, and I take this as my cue to move closer to Jeremy – and his mic and sing the echo with him. “Tomorrow,” All three the boys look at me with surprise, but that doesn’t stop us. “'Cause we got all we need today,” goes Owen again. And then Jeremy and I echo together, “Today.” “Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins” Charlie sings without taking his eyes off me and without wiping that smile off his face. Jeremy now steps aside, leaving me to have my favorite line in the entire song. “We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain!” For the last chorus, all four of us begin clapping, like they did on Open Mic night. To finish it off, Jeremy, Owen and I take care of the backing vocals for Charlie.   “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising Up right now And even if we Hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never It's now or never” The three boys pant a little after giving their all while I continue sweeping as if nothing even happened. Although, I can’t hide the smirk that’s tugging on my lips. “Wow, that girl can sing!” Jeremy compliments me with a little smile. “Emily,” Charlie’s voice beckons me to look up, “Please, join Sunset Curve?” “Still thinking about it,” I tell him, but I already know I want to. Jamming with these boys feels amazing and I’d do it forever if it wasn’t for my uncle. I need to figure out how I’m going to be okay with singing and writing music with other people. Until I do, I’m going to keep them in a little bit of agony. “Come on, Emmy?” The nickname rips my heart out, even if it’s coming from Charlie’s mouth. “Don’t call me that,” I snarl, startling him a little. I shut my eyes for a second. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s my default reaction to hearing that nickname when it’s from the wrong person. “Sorry, but please, don’t call me that. Anything but that.” I send him a knowing look, hoping that’ll say enough about the why. “Sorry…” he whispers, then wets his lips before continuing, “But Ems, we just rocked that with you. Have we really not convinced you yet?” He has that same puppy-dog-eyes look on his face. Does he know how much that has an effect on me and is he doing it on purpose, or? “Give me a week, okay? I just need to find a way to be okay with… You know…” Charlie nods his head, respecting my decision. I offer him an appreciative smile, hoping that would do. “No, I don’t know. Okay with what?” Jeremy earns a slap on the arm from Owen on that one. “Do you ever think some things aren’t your business?” The dark haired boy simply shrugs. “Hey, why don’t you guys let me hear that new song of yours? Finally Free? I heard it’s good,” I glance at Charlie for the last part, and exchange a smirk with him. He knows. We both know. “Uhm, sure?” Owen says, seemingly confused. “Version two, guys, don’t forget,” Charlie tells them just before Owen counts them in and they’re off playing the song. It sounds amazing. Such a fun song when you add the drums, bass and electric feel of the guitar rather than the acoustic guitar Charlie played it on for me. While I clean up the rest of the store, I mime the song along for as far as I still remember it, hoping the boys won’t see so I don’t have to sing along with them. What I do show them are my killer dance moves with the broom, which really does make them laugh. “That sounds awesome, you guys!” I say excitedly when they’ve finished. Charlie places his guitar on the stand, calling in a break. “I think Sunset Curve might have a hit with that one.” The boys all give me a shy smile as they all gather at the piano again, having ditched their instruments. “Now you,” it almost sounds like a dare. “Now me what?” I ask, keeping my eyes on him. “Show me your song!” The boy sounds way too excited and looks the part too. With his eyes wide and his smile nearly reaching his eyes. I glance from Charlie to Owen to Jeremy and back. “I mean, it’s not really fi—” Owen interrupts my excuse by coming up with one of his own. “Who’s hungry? I’m hungry! Jeremy, let’s get some food for all of us!” Without even asking us what we’d want for dinner, Owen grabs a hold of his best friend and yanks him towards the door and out the store, leaving Charlie and I to our devices. “Will you play it for me now?” he asks, a bit more careful than before as if not wanting to overstep anything. I swallow a nervous lump in my throat before nodding and going to grab my songbook. I place all the loose papers onto the piano and then turn to him. “Grab your guitar,” I order sweetly. The boy obeys and quickly grabs the black Fender from the wall. “Remember what you played the other day when we kind of wrote it together?” He simply nods his head before starting to play the chords he did that first day of writing together. He stands beside me, our shoulders touching, as we look at the song on paper. Then Charlie starts singing, his voice sending shivers throughout my entire body. “Step into my world Bittersweet love story about a girl Shook me to the core Voice like an angel, I've never heard before.” I take a deep breath and start singing my part of the first verse. “Here in front of me Shining so much brighter than I have ever seen Life can be so mean But when he goes I know he doesn't leave” A soft beat and a melody sounds through my mind now, intertwined with the sound of his guitar. Just as our voices intertwine too during the chorus. Like the perfect harmony. “The truth is finally breaking through Two worlds collide when I'm with you Our voices rise and soar so high We come to life when we're” I turn to him, finding myself confident enough not to stare at the papers. “In perfect harmony Woah, woah Perfect harmony Woah, woah Perfect harmony” Charlie smiles down at me with the brightest smile on his face. He, too, feels confident enough to sing without looking at the lyrics. “You set me free,” he sings, not taking his eyes off me. “You and me together is more than chemistry.” Without realizing it, I take a step closer towards him. “Love me as I am I'll hold your music here inside my hands We say we're friends, we play pretend You're more to me, we're everything Our voices rise and soar so high We come to life when we're In perfect harmony” Charlie places his guitar on the piano, letting the melody and rhythm inside our minds guide us instead as we walk around the piano, each in different directions until we’re on opposite sides, looking at each other. “Woah, woah Perfect harmony Woah, woah Perfect harmony” I lean forward on the piano as I sing the first line in the bridge. “I feel your rhythm in my heart, yeah” Charlie walks the other half of the piano, quickly this time, until he’s reached me. “You are my brightest, burning star, woah-woah” I place my hands on his chest as he inches closer. “I never knew a love so real” “So real,” Charlie echoes, pressing his forehead to mine. “We're heaven on earth, melody and words When we are together we're In perfect harmony” I step back slightly, offering him a teasing smirk more so because I’m not ready for what’s about to happen next. “Woah, woah Perfect harmony Woah, woah Perfect harmony” He takes my hand in his and pulls me towards him again. My hands find their way to his chest again while he places his on my waist. “We say we're friends We play pretend You're more to me We create a perfect harmony” The music in our minds has stopped. All that’s left now is our panting breath and beating hearts. Tingles erupt in my body, going from my head all the way down to my toes. I know what’s going to happen and for once, my brain isn’t telling me to pull away or abort the mission. For once, it’s silent. And then Charlie kisses me, and an entire orchestra breaks up the silence in my mind. “I’m seeing fireworks!” Jeremy’s voice makes us break apart, but we don’t go too far. Just our lips disconnect. “Are you seeing fireworks?” Owen nods his head in agreement with his best friend. “Because I’m seeing all the fireworks!” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the dude is high. I shake my head at Jeremy and turn back to Charlie, who’s already looking down at me. This feels right. This feels like how it should be. All the planets aligned. Just perfectly right.

Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @hannahhistorian92 @gingerxarmy @marinettepotterandplagg​ @lovesanimals​ Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this story/any of my other works!

[gentlelarkspur]

Faces Through Time [a short Good Omens genfic]

In which a young aspiring art historian stumbles across a pair of figures that seem to haunt the artistic world through the ages.

Its been so long since I wrote any kind of fanfiction that I don’t even know how this works anymore lol. So long in fact that I don’t have access to the email I made my original AO3 account with and didn’t realize you still have to wait for invites to sign up again, so no AO3 link for this.

Tags: Genfic, OC, Aziraphale/Crowley implied. Word Count: 2,138

FACES THROUGH TIME

“It’s a coincidence, Carmen, that’s all.”

“I’m telling you Maxwell—”

“That, what? The same figures featured in art across the millennium, around the world? That’s simply—”

“More than a millennium, Max!” Carmen Fernandez sat down defiantly in the large over-worn chair behind her, dropping the folders in her arms with finality on her advisor’s desk. She flipped open the top one and pulled out a handful of papers and spread them in front of her. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised to see them in a couple of cave paintings, if they had that kind of detail. Just look! Here!”

Carmen started to pull out another group of papers, the whole mess seeming to multiply of its own accord across the desk like particularly industrious rabbits. Maxwell ran a hand through a shock of gray hair with a sigh, and sat back in his office chair, leveling a weary gaze at his student. She ignored it with the ease of practice and held up a large photocopy from a book.

“Right here, see? The same two figures, light and dark, sometimes separate, usually together. I’ll admit, some of them are too stylistic to be sure, especially the vases, yes, I agree, but see, look! Here, in this painting unearthed in Pompeii just last year—”

Carmen pushed the photocopy toward Maxwell. A beautiful wall painting depicting a lavish banquet with entertainment sprawled across the paper. Two figures had been circled in highlighter; a tall man in dark robes drank wine from beside a shorter man, robed in white, as he dined on bread and meats. Maxwell only had time to take it in for a moment before Carmen pushed another paper into his hands.

“And here, later, this bust, with those striking features and those strange eyes, it has an uncanny resemblance to this sketch—” another paper replaced that one “--by Michelangelo AGAIN with that second figure! And here—” another paper “-- even earlier, in this illustrated manuscript, and then later—“ yet another “--in this painting from France during the revolution in a crowd at the guillotine, and even in Seurat’s most famous painting!--” a book, this time, large and awkward  “--you can see a pair of figures in the far distance, one light and one dark, strolling side by side along the walk. And look—”

“Carmen,” Maxwell interrupted as quickly as he could, before yet another piece of evidence could be thrust his way.

“But--”

“Carmen, please, stop!” Maxwell rubbed his eyes and set the book down gingerly with the other hand. “I applaud your enthusiasm, but listen to yourself for a moment, for Christ’s sake. I mean, what are you even trying to suggest? That these men are somehow immortal and… what? Also happen to be favorite subjects for artists across the globe through time?”

It’s not that Carmen couldn’t hear the sarcasm or the exasperation. It’s just that she didn’t want to.

“Yes, exactly that, actually,” she said curtly. She flipped open another folder containing more notes and photocopied proof. “I have more—”

“No more, Carmen.” Maxwell spread his hands in a gesture that managed to be both denial and defeat all in one. He stood up quickly from his desk and pulled the sweater from the back of his chair behind him. “It’s Friday. I’m going home. I SUGGEST,” he said, holding up a finger as Carmen began to speak. “That you go home as well and think about something more productive you could spend your time on. As far as this thesis proposal goes, I’m sorry Carmen, but I can’t give you the green light on it. It’s a crackpot theory, and you’d be laughed out of your defense before you even started.”

He raised his finger again as Carmen started to open her mouth in indignation.

“Enough! Now go home!”

 -----

Outside, in the cool fall air, Carmen fumed her way down the stairs of the department building. She had been muttering to herself all the way down the elevator, and now that she was outside in the open the muttering raised a noticeable volume, until Carmen was half shouting over her shoulder at a very confused and rather insulted piece of wall.

“Crackpot theory! I’ll crackpot theory you, you stubborn old son of a—"

Carmen’s mobile began to ring, and she fished it out of her coat pocket with annoyance.

“Hello?!” she said aggressively. The voice on the other end seemed taken aback.

“Um, hello? Miss Fernandez? It’s, um, me.”

“Me?” Carmen blinked. “Me who?”

“Mr. Bux, miss. You called about the lithographs.”

“Oh!” Carmen’s brain snapped back from whatever curses she had been imagining upon Maxwell and found itself squarely in the present again. “Of course, Mr. Bux! My apologies. Were you able to find anything?”

“Oh, well, um, not the original stand-alones, unfortunately. But I did find a reference to them being reprinted in a book on travel, published in 1835. I don’t personally have a copy, but I have an acquaintance who just so happens to know someone who knows a man who told him of a fellow who runs a bookshop that he believes might have just what you need.”

“A bookshop? Where?”

“On that account, Miss Fernandez, you’re in luck…”

-----

The bell above the door gave a quiet chime as Carmen entered. Outside, the busy Soho street was a din of human noise, but the moment the door shut the sound seemed to fall away. Inside it was quiet and empty, aside from the rows of books that crowded together like curious onlookers, watching the intruder with a cautious eye. Dust floated through the occasional shaft of chilled afternoon sunlight, giving the air a gilded look. For a moment, Carmen couldn’t move, didn’t dare to breath. Breaking that stillness and that silence felt like a crime, like blasphemy against something old and sacred.

The feeling was broken when some of the gilded dust reached Carmen’s nose and she sneezed, so loud in the quiet that she made herself jump. The spell broken, Carmen shook her head and moved into the shop cautiously, calling ahead.

“Hello? Excuse me, is anyone here?”

The young woman walked past row upon row of old leatherbound books on dark wooden shelves. Nothing stirred. No other customers, no shop assistants. Not even the air seemed to move much around her, though despite the stillness it didn’t feel stuffy. In fact, it was surprisingly comfortable. Carmen found herself taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of books and dust and… something else. Something earthy, or maybe woody. Familiar, but Carmen couldn’t quite place it. It reminded her of being home with her grandmother on the weekends, or the sweet scent of candles and incense on Sundays, or…

Carmen couldn’t place it. But it smelled good.

“Hello?” she tried again. She reached the center of the shop, and looked at the beautiful display around her, admiring the artistry of its design and the way the skylight above lit it like a gentle spotlight. As she was looking up, a polite cough sounded behind her. Carmen looked down immediately, startled. Her eyes were momentarily blinded from looking so quickly into the shadows of the shop after staring up into the light, and she squinted at the blurred figure before her, not able to see it quite clearly yet.

“Hi, yes, hello,” she said. “Sorry, um. Are you Mr. Fell?”

“Yes, that would be me,” said the figure in a light voice. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, um. I was sent here by Mr. Bux, the bookseller. He said you might have a copy of an old book of lithographs that I’m looking for.”

The figure in front of her moved a little closer, out of the shadows and into the light. Carmen blinked, her eyes finally readjusting. As they did so, she gasped, and nearly took a step back. Only her manners, and her shock, kept her standing still.

Before her stood a man, more or less. The face was not a young one, nor an old one really. The hair was a halo of light, feathery blond curls that went whatever way they seem to desire, though most of it was vaguely upwards. His clothes were old fashioned by any standard, all tan and cream in color, one perfectly manicured hand holding a lapel mindlessly, as if it was just an easy place to rest the thing until needed. There was something curious about him, something that felt in between rather than anywhere solid, and yet he was wholly real, and wholly here.

And wholly familiar.

Carmen stared in disbelief, her eyes wide. She didn’t need to pull out the mountain of photocopies just to make sure. The recognition was instant. She knew.

“Are you alright, my dear?” the man asked, a look of concern crossing his face. He took a step forward.

Carmen stepped back.

“I…uh…that is, you…”

Whatever Carmen was going to say was interrupted by the front bell chiming, and the sound of the door being slammed rang out like a shot through the silence. Carmen nearly jumped out of her skin, and both she and the man before her turned their heads to look toward the entrance as a voice called out.

“Aziraphale! Are you ready yet?”

“Oh, um, oh dear…” Mr. Fell –Aziraphale, Carmen corrected in her head as she turned back toward him again—looked flustered for a moment and glanced between Carmen and a figure that was making its way down the main isle. “I’m sorry, young lady, just...”

He had started to move to intercept the figure but was already too late. Somehow, despite moving at what Carmen could only describe as a casual saunter, it had managed to cross the distance at a surprising speed, and now stood like a lank shadow next to the nearest bookcase.

“Oh, what’s this?” the shadow said in a voice that dripped like honey, if honey was feeling particularly languid that day. “Customer? You actually get customers?”

Aziraphael moved closer to the newcomer, placing himself somewhat between Carmen and the man.

“Uh, yes, Crowley, I do. If you just give me a moment, I’ll get this sorted and…”

“Seriously, angel, I thought you did everything in your power to prevent this kind of thing,” the man said, with a gesture around the shop. “Selling the books, I mean.”

“Yes, well, needs must as they say.”

Carmen stared at the two men, her eyes darting between them like a tennis match.

Angel. The word caught on her mind like a hook. And then—

“Oh,” she said, the matter very suddenly and violently setting itself to rights in her mind. “OH.”

Carmen sat down with a hard thump in the chair nearest to her.

“Oh, my dear, are you alright?” Aziraphale turned from Crowley and came over to her, his hands moving rather uselessly in the air as she stared at the floor. “Are you ill? Is there something I can do?”

For a moment, Carmen was ill. A wave of nausea overtook her, and she put her head between her knees and waited for the floor to stop moving. And then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. And three months of curiosity and investigative spirit was gone with it.

Carmen looked up quickly at the man standing over her, and then across his shoulder to the one that slouched in the shadows. She didn’t smile. She just nodded, something between an acknowledgement and a final dismissal, and then quickly stood up.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said. She politely pushed past Aziraphale and started to head for the door. She nodded again, curtly, at the lanky figure in sunglasses as she passed him, who followed her movement with a raised eyebrow. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale looked after her, confused. “Weren’t you looking for something, miss?”

“I was,” Carmen said.

“But don’t you want to find it?” he called after her.

Carmen waved a hand back.

“I already did, thanks!”

-----

On Monday, Maxwell stepped into the hallway of his department offices and sighed. Carmen sat on the floor in front of his office, with a folder in hand. As he approached, keys in hand, she stood up and held out the folder.

“Good morning, Carmen,” Maxwell said, shying away from the folder like a wary horse. “Got some more proof for me today?”

“Nope,” Carmen said, her lips quirking into a strange half-smile.

Maxwell looked down at the manila folder suspiciously.

“Then what?”

“Some thesis ideas. I was hoping we could go over them.”

“No more crackpot theory then?” Maxwell asked, visibly relieved.

“No. No more theory,” she said.

Who needs a theory when you have the facts, anyway? she thought, and smiled.