#(my starters usually are but my other replies will be shorter; promise!)

[script-nef]

Unnecessary worries | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Inspiration: [“I’m observant”]

Category: fluff

880 words; in which Komori is worried for Sakusa’s unusual behaviours

Komori was worried about his cousin. Sakusa seemed to be distracted nowadays, easily zoning out and ignoring other people more than usual. It didn’t affect his playing, which was a relief as they needed to prove their skills as the only two first year starters, but it was starting to impact his studies. Especially English, to the point where auntie and his teachers were becoming worried.

He had no idea why Sakusa was acting like this. Volleyball season was yet to start and no important practice matches were scheduled as far as he knew. They had graduated to a new school, but Sakusa was never out of it this much as far as memory served. Whenever he was questioned on it, Sakusa just clicked his tongue and pulled up his mask even more. Komori swears he once saw his stoic cousin’s ears tinge red. Eventually, his mother and aunt asked if anyone around him wouldn’t mind helping the troubled boy for a while until they could figure out what to do.

He resorted to asking you, the one with the best English grade in his class. And you were kind enough to agree to meeting every Wednesday after school to tutor two boys—Komori hitched along for the extra help and to observe Sakusa further—even though you never talked to them before. You exchanged numbers with him and Sakusa as the latter was scrubbing his hands away, smiling brilliantly before leaving to eat with your friends.

"She’s so nice. Oh, hey. Are you done?" Sakusa gave a nod, eyes trailing after your retreating figure. "That's [Surname]-san. You know how I said you need an English tutor? She said yes! Wednesdays right after school, when we don't have volleyball practice." If Komori didn’t walk ahead of Sakusa, he might have seen the creases between the other boy's brows deepening.

You arrived in the school's study room 10 minutes earlier than the promised time. Whipping out a wet wipe, you went to work scrubbing the table down. The door opened when you were nearly done, and the two boys stood with a surprised expression. 

"Hey guys! What are you doing standing there? Sit, sit. I'm really sorry, but we might need to cut the session 10 minutes shorter since my friends are bugging me about going shopping. Do you guys want a wet wipe?" You lifted the container towards Sakusa as he was about to sit down next to you, a kind smile on your face. He muttered a thanks and used one to wipe down his seat. Komori refused politely.

"Okay, which areas do we need to work on? Is there a topic the both of you are confused or worried about?" They replied with “sentence structures”, which was understandable as the two language's format was the complete opposite. 

You slathered some hand sanitisers, offering some as well, before touching Sakusa's textbooks. The session commenced with ease, and you found it quite odd that they were asking for your help when they seemed proficient enough at the subject. Komori found it odd that you were obsessed with being clean when you showed no signs of such particularities in the 2 months he’s seen you in his class. And you seemed fine when touching other people’s belongings. His curious stare garnered your attention and he promptly looked away, embarrassed to have been caught.

Two hours passed and your eyes drooped as exhaustion settled in. You only took a small break once, and your voice was taking a heavy toll from the constant talking. You and the boys decided to call it a day as the sun started to set over the horizon. They accompanied you to the school gates before you had to split. 

"Say, [Name]-san, are you a germaphobe?" Komori asked just as you were about to say goodbye. You cocked your head to the side, a question mark appearing above your head.

"No? I'm fine with germs and messy things. You should look at my room, there's everything everywhere." You laughed lightly. "Why do you ask?" It was Komori’s turn to be confused now, brows scrunching together.

“Then… what was with all the wet wipes and hand sanitisers? Are you just incredibly fastidious?” You laughed at that as well, shaking your head.

“No, Komori-san. I just tried to accommodate for Sakusa-san and his hatred towards germs. I doubt he would enjoy or learn from my lessons if he was preoccupied with the fact that I’m germ-ridden.” Komori gaped at you. It was only March and Sakusa, being Sakusa, didn't gain much attention or friends other than ones affiliated with volleyball. Due to his limited friendships, not a lot of people knew he was a germaphobe, and he certainly didn’t expect you, who never talked to them before, to know.

You seemed to notice his surprise and giggled softly. “I’m observant.” A small group of girls called out your name, prompting you to wave say goodbye to the duo and run off to the group. Komori looked over to Sakusa, who had a dreamy and soft look in his eyes as he traced after your retreating figure. 

Ah, so that's why Sakusa was so spaced out.

[savedpeople]

1. How do you draft your threads usually? 2. Do you believe in long notes threads or each time the plot changes, you write a new starter? 7. What is something you didn’t think you have a problem writing it and now you stopped writing it? 13. Have a ship partner promised a ship with your muse and ignored you afterwards? 14. What is the most annoying fact or trait or fanon that is attached to your muse and bothers you?

Munday Questions | Accepting | @wexarethewalkingxdead

I typically “like” a starter or reply once I’ve read it, and then draft it later. If you see I still have a reply “liked,” that means I haven’t put it in my drafts yet. I don’t reply to threads in order, but rather whatever I have most muse for, and I prefer to start and finish a reply in one sitting. I don’t like leaving half-written replies in my drafts, though it happens sometimes.

I actually prefer multiple, shorter threads than one giant, endless thread. I’ve had RPs go into the 100s of notes before, but that was when it was all one, long scene. It can depend on the details, but if we’re shifting to a new idea or plot point or doing a significant time jump or something, I’d rather start a new thread.

As far as topics or genres go, I’m not sure there’s anything I thought I’d be fine with writing only to later stop writing it. It’s mostly been the opposite lol. There’s some RP preferences I was sure I’d always have that ended up changing though? For example I used to think I’d be fine only ever being single-ship, but now all my blogs are multiship. I also thought I’d be okay writing with basically any kind of character imaginable, but I eventually learned that wasn’t the case and had to put up some boundaries.

No one’s ever promised me a ship and then ignored me, but I have had people ask me to ship, and then basically stop interacting with me when I said we’d need to RP first to see if our muses had chemistry. Also had a ship partner that disappeared from their blog without having the courtesy to tell me they weren’t interested anymore and wouldn’t be back, which definitely felt like being ignored when I was waiting around for them for months while they wrote on other accounts.

Question 14 was answered here. But to add to it, another fanon thing that bothers me is this claim some Negan fans make: that Negan isn’t any worse than Rick, that the things he did as a leader weren’t that bad, that he was never a villain, etc. The fanon portrayal of him being this perfect sex god bothers me at times too, especially when it involves romanticizing the harem or stripping him of the rest of his personality.

[mystical-flute]

Conversation Starter (Curious Archer)

Part 7 of Mistletoe and Holly

Also on AO3 and FFN

Prompt: Where on Earth did you get that sweater?!

Margot wasn’t one for Christmas parties. She really wasn’t one for big family gatherings in general, but especially ones centered around Christmas. It wasn’t anything serious that caused her to think that way, but she just… didn’t care for the whole fuzzy, warm feelings of the holiday season.

Unfortunately, when she’d returned to Storybrooke with her girlfriend in tow, and her mother had found out Alice hadn’t had a proper holiday thanks to some complicated family matters, a Christmas party, complete with all the trimmings, was planned in no less than two days.

Margot hadn’t exactly been surprised - Aunt Regina and Mary-Margaret were wizards when it came to party planning, but even so, she felt dread beginning to burn inside of her. A Christmas party wasn’t something she wanted to attend tonight.

But her mother had insisted, and Alice had lit up at the idea, so she would go, grin and bare it, and pray it got over quickly.

At least Alice seemed to be excited, judging by the way she bounced around the room.

“I haven’t been to a party in a long time,” she said, suddenly turning to Margot with wide eyes. “What do you wear to Christmas parties anyway?”

Margot shrugged, looking down at the burgundy sweater and jeans wore. “I was just going to wear what I have on. My family usually doesn’t make these things formal.”

Alice nodded, looking at herself in the mirror, before grinning and turning back to Margot. “D’you mind if I get changed? I think I have the perfect sweater!”

Margot blinked. “Not at all.” If they got there late, they could stay for an even shorter amount of time.

“Great!” Alice chirped, rushing to her bag and grabbing what Margot only saw was something green. She flicked through her phone while she waited for Alice to change, already beginning to make plans for their next travel adventure. Maybe back to Seattle to see Alice’s father - the relationship was strained, but she’d thought they’d made some real progress before they’d come to Storybrooke. Or perhaps backpacking through Europe again, back to where they first met in Spain…

“Okay, I think I’m ready!” Alice announced, stepping into the room.

It was a green sweater, but it was oh so much more than that. It was decorated with snowflakes and ornaments, and on the front was the word “FRAGILE”, with the leg lamp from A Christmas Story stretching down most of the front. The lampshade itself had several lights attached, glowing much like Alice’s smile.

It took everything in Margot not to burst out laughing, managing to contain it in a smile. “Where on Earth did you get that sweater?!” she asked.

“I bought it last Christmas in London. Do you like it?” Alice asked, giving a twirl. “Will your family like it?”

Margot’s grin threatened to split her face. “No doubt they will.”

When they arrived at Aunt Regina’s house (and God, Aunt Regina and her father had really gone all out with the decorations yet again), and the large Christmas tree was shining in the window. She swore the house could have been on the cover of a magazine.

Alice tugged nervously at the sweater. “You’re sure about this?”

“Positive,” she replied, kissing Alice’s cheek. “They’ll love you and your sweater, I promise.”

Pushing the door open, Margot could already hear the voices of Roland, Neal Jr., and Henry loudly talking about whatever video game it was they were playing and nearly rolled her eyes. Those three were a dangerous combination together.

“Hey… Merry Christmas,” she called into the house.

“Oh Margot, welcome home!” Regina cried, pulling her in for a tight hug. “And you must be Alice, right?”

Alice blinked in surprise. “You know who I am?”

“Of course, Zelena told us you were coming,” Regina replied, before taking in the outfit. “Oh - that sweater is certainly -” 

“Awesome!” Roland cried, peering up from the couch. “Seriously, the lights make it. How does it even work?”

“It’s got a button…” Alice explained sheepishly. “Oh, are you guys playing Mario Kart?”

Roland nodded. “Sure are, wanna join us? I’ve got a spare joycon.”

Alice seemed to relax at that, eagerly going over to the couch and plopping down between Neal and Henry. “Hope you guys don’t mind if I kick your ass during our first meeting!”

Margot laughed, before turning to greet her father and other relatives.

She had a feeling she was going to start having to make a bigger effort for Christmas, but seeing Alice’s face lit up the way it was would make it all worthwhile.

[backedagainstthewall]

HOW I RUN MY BLOG

Tagged by: @down-in-dixie Tagging: @walkinggatorbait  @abbyissharp  @abscxnder  @pantslessoptimism  @emeryfleming  @notanoutlaw  @sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins  @detectiverickitubbs

SPEED: I used to be on here at least every other night, and it wasn’t often anything got left undone for more than a week.  Those days are definitely in the past.  I do sometimes still go on sprees and occasionally reply to things quickly, but you can generally bet on it taking at least a week now.  I really should drop some things, as I just have too much to keep up with now.  But it’s kind of random

REPLIES: I try to give you something to work with.  I’ll usually at least try to have the same general length for a reply, but I can’t promise it’ll always be close.  Sometimes it’ll be shorter, sometimes longer, depending on what’s going on.  

STARTERS: I rarely do them, because I’ve had mixed success with them.  Sometimes an idea comes to mind I really want to put out there, or sometimes I have ideas around real life holidays.  They’re not at all consistent.  

INBOX:  Another thing that’s changed.  I used to prioritize stuff in the inbox and never leave anything sitting there very long because then I had to wonder just what was asked.  I don’t keep up well anymore.  I’ll admit I don’t answer everything, though I’d guess I answer about 90% of stuff.  

SELECTIVITY: I’m not too selective.  There are some characters it’s hard to see mine interacting with.  Anything very heavy sci-fi or fantasy probably isn’t going to work out.  Something light, such as someone with magical powers but it isn’t a constant presence, will probably be okay. 

WISHLIST:  I don’t have one, and have quit paying attention to anyone else’s, because in my experience, they’re a complete waste of time.  No one ever actually responds if you indicate interest in something on their wishlist.  

HONEST NOTE: I’m probably not going to seem as excited about things as you are.  That’s not because I don’t enjoy it, but I’m not an easily excitable person.  And I don’t think I “feel” things as deeply as most people on here.  I get the feeling some people think I’m not into the RPs as much as them because of this.  

[calamitysshatteredson]

HOW I RUN MY BLOG

SPEED: Slow.  The slowest slow.  I am a glacier... or I am what our understanding of glaciers used to be in that they moved very slowly.  Between work, chronic health stuff and overall new and different types of exhaustion (yaaaay), I haven’t been able to get to nearly as many responses as I’ve wanted to.  Rest assured I want to and for the most part the slowness is because I want everyone’s response to feel like I put effort into it.  Because I did and I don’t want to drop laziness on anyone even if there are the “the hell with it, I’m finishing this no matter what happens” times.  Some days/weeks/months are better than others and I am technically an adult-like cryptid with things to do.  It’s annoying.

REPLIES: I make every effort to match length.  Sometimes there’s just a spill of words from nowhere, though.  (Partners are never expected to match length of word waterfalls, by the way.)  There are times when responses are shorter, but usually for some kind of impact.

STARTERS: I... should make more opens.  What prevents me from doing so is usually the whole time/energy/wanting to be available for interaction in the relatively near future thing, which I can never promise.  ...I will randomly leap out and reply to starters anyway at times.  Sometimes the muse takes the wheel, what can I say.

INBOX: Everyone’s always welcome, anon or IC.  I might also take forever with these, but sometimes a random ask really serves to kickstart an idea that we can all regret together.

SELECTIVITY: I’m accidentally selective.  As in, I kind of don’t mean to be.  One, I have to be a little careful about following back because I have remarkably limited time to browse the dash (why yes this does suck), and two it always depends on what tugs on inspiration.  Some folks very accidentally have to wait a lot longer for interaction, and I know “it’s nothing personal” doesn’t exactly ease the sting.  You are dealing with a mun who is confused by time.

WISHLIST: There’ve already been so many delights.  ...I always say I want Seph to have more happiness, more found family and learning to human, but it’s kinda rare I actually give him that, huh.  ...Well, it can’t all be angst, but there is plenty of fluff-angst too.  Still up for former General Safay Roth escaping with a drop ship full of clones and MTs in various stages of having been “rejected”, with or without having maybe become accidentally married to Ravus.  ...And Seph and Prompto somehow connecting because come on.

HONEST NOTE: You are all amazing and astonishing for putting up with whatever this blog has become.  I’ve been (frustratingly) doing a lot more reading than writing of late and let me assure all of you, I enjoy what I see.  But I must add, for the purpose of full disclosure, I’m an internet old from LiveJournal in the days before Strikethrough.  I have written a lot of “problematic content��.  I have participated in challenges to (here’s your date check) squick myself, and have definitely succeeded.  Ain’t got no time for the thought police or purity culture, but I also don’t look kindly upon folks who belittle others for wanting appropriate content warnings for their own comfort.  We’re playing haphazardly with fictional characters, but I’d like to think we’re also trying to make sure everyone has the ability to feel safe in the RP sandbox.  If that doesn’t gel with you, no hard feelings, but good-bye and good luck.  And while I’m sure I sound like a broken record at this point, if there’s ever anything I need to tag but haven’t for whatever reason, let me know.  Tumblr is a barely-evolving trash fire but the least we can do is try to be decent to each other.

TAGGED BY: @cinderella-gurei (Thank you!) TAGGING: Do you think this is a neat and informative thing to do for your followers/partners?  Then you have been tagged, have a blast.

[bastionkeeper]

Idk if you’d be interested but I absolutely die for 10 meeting Crowley somewhere in history and having a fun lil mix up with the trouble they’re both in

Anonymous said: Can I get some fuckin uhhhh Donna content? If you want!

I’m so sorry this took a million years and came out totally different, shorter, and probably less good than expected asdflkja it’s been a long bit of getting back to school, working in preparation for the festival that’s gonna kill me this weekend, and the big sad writer’s block, I decided to just post it now while I have SOMETHING at least

"I promise this is going to make up for that whole mess with the novasquid."

"It better, my hair still smells like calamari and I've showered four times now."

The sound of fond bickering often filled the TARDIS, though the incident with the novasquid had, indeed, increased the usual amount of bickering quite a bit. 

"Look, 3308, Mars, the nightlife is incredible," The Doctor assured Donna. "I once spent a night there, don't remember a thing, might have gotten married or… divorced, anyway…"

"I can't believe it, we're going clubbing," Donna laughed.

"Well, yeah, but on Mars," the Doctor emphasized, hoping for the usual human wonder at travel in time and space.

"You gonna go dressed like that? All suit and teacher glasses?" 

"You're one to talk, showing up to a 3308 club dressed like it's 2007," the Doctor said, grinning and raising a critical eyebrow.

He threw a lever and flipped a switch, and the TARDIS stopped groaning and shaking as they landed.

"Alright, Mars," Donna said, dramatically tossing her hair. "Lock up your husbands."

"Right…" the Doctor raised an eyebrow and headed for the door, grabbing his coat on the way.

The door opened and Donna and the Doctor stepped out…

...onto a London street.

"Mars, right?" Donna huffed. "You need to fix that GPS. Are we at least in the future?"

"Uh…" the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and took readings only he could read from a device with neither screen nor speaker. "Depends… we're either somewhere in the nineties or 2019…"

"How can it be either the nineties or 2019?" Donna asked. 

"This is really strange…"

"No stranger than usual, you promising a vacation and us ending up in the wrong part of the universe."

"No, I mean…" the Doctor looked at the sonic with a frown. "These readings for Earth are all… well… it's saying it's only about six thousand years old."

"So it's busted then," Donna said. 

"Maybe…" the Doctor pocketed the sonic and looked around. "Well, so long as we're here."

"Oh no," Donna sighed. "No, don't get distracted. Let's get back in the TARDIS and go to Mars."

"Look! An old bookshop!" The Doctor beamed, pointing out the building. "Love an old bookshop, let's take a peek."

"Oh no," Donna groaned, as the Doctor grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the shop labeled: A.Z. FELL.

"Your orchid is getting lazy."

Aziraphale looked up from his book to where Crowley was examining a flower, one he'd brought to the bookshop as a gift a month ago.

"Maybe it's just enjoying a quiet moment away from all the yelling," Aziraphale said coyly, returning to his book. 

The bell at the door rang as a pair of customers entered, and neither demon nor angel took notice. 

"Sure, let it go soft," Crowley scoffed. 

"As if you don't like soft," Aziraphale shot back, not looking up from his book.

Crowley made a big show of snarling like he was offended as he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Don't you have things to do today? Besides harass the orchid?" Aziraphale asked.

"Yeah, but I'll be back for it," Crowley said with a wink. "You enjoy chasing people off all day."

Aziraphale waved him off, and for a split second two non-humans with remarkably similar faces passed by each other without noticing.

Then Crowley left the shop.

"Are you done yet?" Donna sighed, leaning heavily on a bookshelf. The Doctor was nose deep in a book, and had been for about an hour. Not the same book, no, he kept poking around in books and peeking around the bookshop much to the owner's dismay. Donna suspected if it weren't for the other customers that he'd have personally chased them off long ago.

"Something's very strange about all this," the Doctor said, not looking up. 

"Yeah, strange how you promised me adventure and now we're standing around looking at antique books," Donna said. "I think you do this on purpose."

"I wish I could claim that," the Doctor chuckled. "Nope, all accident."

"Well so long as you're reading, I'm going to go find something to do," Donna said. "You know, while you gather dust."

The Doctor waved her off and she stuck her tongue out at him, before heading for the door. 

The Doctor was reading Hamlet or rather he was sort of reading it, because it was just a little different from what he remembered. 

For starters it was completely dull, not at all the play remembered by the ages. Second of all the publishing date was definitely not the correct one, and yet he was certain this was an original copy. An original copy somehow lovingly maintained without a temperature controlled room or protective case, just placed on a bookshelf surrounded by several other well loved books.

"Oh, you don't want that one."

The Doctor looked up at the voice, the owner had left his post and come over to him. Aziraphale hadn't seen the customer's face yet, only seen his back as he pursued for far too long with too much interest. Another collector, probably, hard to shake.

"Oh?" The Doctor asked, turning to face Aziraphale. "Why not?"

For a moment surprise spread over Aziraphale's face, and then confusion.

"Wait… but…" he squinted. "Crowley, are you playing some kind of trick?"

"Uh, no, no tricks here," the Doctor said with an equally confused look and a friendly shrug. "Sorry, what did you call me?"

"Oh stop it," Aziraphale huffed. "You've barely even shapeshifted, are you trying to be funny?"

"Well now that's just rude," the Doctor said. "I'm very different now, got all long and grew my hair out, and the ears are totally different."

"Ears?" Aziraphale asked, bewildered.

"Do you know me?" The Doctor asked curiously.

"I should say so I…" Aziraphale paused. "... or maybe I don't. You don't feel… demonic. Are you not Crowley?"

"I'm the Doctor," he replied. "And I'm not a demon, sorry."

"That's bizarre." Aziraphale gaped. "You look just like him…"

"You did say demon, right?" The Doctor asked, and Aziraphale blanched.

"Did I?" He asked casually.

"Oh, don't get secretive now," the Doctor chuckled. "Would it help if I said I was an alien? I show you mine you show me… well, you get it." He pulled a face at his own choice of words.

"That's impossible," Aziraphale laughed. "She hasn't started work on the other worlds yet."

"She?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," Aziraphale said finally.

"Why didn't you want me to buy this book?" The Doctor asked. "And why's it all wrong? It's Hamlet but it's garbage, Hamlet's not garbage."

"That's the pre-edited copy," Aziraphale said smugly. 

"What edits are those?"

"The important ones." Aziraphale looked impatient now. "Who are you, really?"

"I told you, I'm the Doctor, I'm a time lord, I'm not from around here."

"Time lord? Sounds a bit pompous…"

"So does claiming intimate knowledge of the writing of Hamlet, but I think maybe we've both got the right," the Doctor said, eyes burning with interest. "Were you there? When it was written?"

"Were you?" Aziraphale countered.

"I was."

"Well I certainly don't remember you."

The Doctor looked triumphant at having gotten a confession that might help him puzzle out the situation, and Aziraphale sighed.

"Alright, which office sent you?"

"What offices?" The Doctor asked.

"Heaven! Hell! What "department" are you?" Aziraphale pushed. 

"Neither, and what exactly are you?"

"I am an angel," Aziraphale said defensively. "And I am very confused."

"Confused isn't so bad, confused means you get to figure something out," the Doctor said. "Tell you what, you tell me about Heaven, Hell, and Hamlet and maybe we can figure this out."

Aziraphale sighed and gestured to the back room, miracling on some tea. "Might as well. This way."

Donna was just starting to get bored when she saw him, crossing the street just a bit away. She chased after him, shouting when he didn't stop for her.

"Hey! Spaceman! You gone deaf and blind?" She huffed, grabbing Crowley by the arm and surprising him considerably. "You finally done with that bookshop then?"

"I… what?" Crowley asked.

"What have you done to your hair?" Donna asked. "And your…" she gestured broadly to all of him. "... all that."

"Well, nothing recently, bout time for a change," Crowley said. "Do I know you?"

"Haha, very funny." Donna rolled her eyes. "Can we go now?"

"Seriously, who are you?" Crowley asked.

"Oh God, I know what this is," Donna sighed in exasperation. "Martha told me about this, you got a pocket watch on you then?"

"Why would I have a pocket watch? What year do you think it is?" Crowley scoffed. 

"C'mon, it's not funny," Donna said. "Just hurry up and-"

Crowley snapped, trying to put the woman in a trance so he could get some answers out of her.

But Donna Noble was not so easily tranced.

"Are you snapping at me?" She shouted, putting her hands on her hips.

"Nngk!" Crowley choked, startled into backing up, arms pinwheeling comically.

"Something happened to you at that bookstore, is that it?" She said. "Right, we're going back, I'll not have you walking around looking like Mr. Goth Fashion and snapping at me."

"I'm… sorry?" Crowley spluttered, finding himself being dragged along. Oh well, she was headed towards Aziraphale's anyway, at least he'd have backup.

Crowley and Donna entered the bookshop just as Aziraphale and the Doctor had decided to go looking for them. There was a minute of Donna, Aziraphale, and the Doctor gaping in confusion at the demonic and alien doppelganger situation, before Crowley broke the silence.

"YOU!" he accused. "Of course it's you!"

"So you know me?" The Doctor asked.

"And you don't know me yet? Great," Crowley huffed. "You made a real mess of the thirties, you know that?"

"Not yet I haven't," the Doctor said, sounding offended.

"So you know him, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked.

"Yeah, he's the idiot with my face who always got me blamed for everything," Crowley said. "Trying to get back to his own universe, is this day one then?"

"What. The hell. Is going on?" Donna asked.

"Funny you should mention hell," the Doctor chuckled. "You know I met Satan once."

"Twice," Crowley corrected him. "Look forward to it. That one actually did me a favor, I was employee of the month."

"No one's answered me," Donna pointed out.

"You and your alien boyfriend are about to time travel through our world till you find a way back to yours, that's what's going on," Crowley said.

"Not my boyfriend," Donna said just as the Doctor said "I'm not her boyfriend."

"And Mr. Fell and his friend here are an angel and a demon," the Doctor added.

"We're not friends," Aziraphale said, just as Crowley corrected him to "partner."

"No way," Donna said.

"I assure you, miss," Aziraphale said. "Very much 'way.'"

"Satan, you're so embarrassing," Crowley chuckled.

"You know, normally I've seen a face before I steal it," the Doctor said.

"Likewise," Crowley said. "But I've got a few thousand years on you so I can say for sure She didn't copy paste me."

“Copy paste?” the Doctor asked, offended.

“Regardless, it seems we’ve sorted things out,” Aziraphale said. “Though I must admit , knowing you really are a time traveling alien from another dimension opens up so many questions…” his eyes glittered with that familiar look he got when discovering a new and fascinating book. “I have questions,” he said, taking the Doctor by the arm and leading him to the back room where he’d ply him for stories with refreshments and stories of his own.

“I’ll just be a minute, Donna,” the Doctor called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s what he said last time,” Donna sighed.

“We’ll be lucky to see them sometime this century,” Crowley sighed along with her. “I’m going to have to dust him off again.”

“Whatchu say we leave them and go get some drinks?” Donna suggested.

“Told you, he’s my partner… thing,” Crowley said awkwardly, as Donna rolled her eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself, hellboy, you’re all bones and sunglasses,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “C’mon, I want to know which of my friends are going to hell.”

[zombiequincy]

THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all had witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

MUN NAME: Hela     AGE: 21       CONTACT: IM

CHARACTER(S): Giselle Gewelle, Yumichika Ayasegawa (inactive)

CURRENT FANDOM(S): Bleach

BLEACH FANDOM(S) YOU HAVE AN AU FOR:  I have gory Bloodborne au but that one just exists in my head on my lonesome.

MY LANGUAGE(S): English and one very specific Middle Eastern dialect.

THEMES I’M INTERESTED IN FOR RP: FANTASY / Science fiction / Horror / WESTERN / ROMANCE / Thriller / MYSTERY / DYSTOPIA / ADVENTURE / MODERN / Erotic / Crime / MYTHOLOGY / Classic / HISTORY / RENAISSANCE / MEDIEVAL / Ancient / WAR / FAMILY / POLITICS / RELIGION / SCHOOL / ADULTHOOD / CHILDHOOD / APOCALYPTIC / GODS / Sport / MUSIC / Science / FIGHTS / ANGST / Smut / DRAMA / etc. 

PREFERRED THREAD LENGTH: one-liner / 1 para / 2 PARA / 3+ / NOVELLA.

ASKS CAN BE SEND BY: MUTUALS / NON-MUTUALS / PERSONALS / ANONS.

CAN ASKS BE CONTINUED?:   YES / NO    only by Mutuals?:  YES / NO.

PREFERRED THREAD TYPE: CRACK / casual nothing too deep / SERIOUS / DEEP AS HECK. (i love it all sorry I am quite the mixed bag lmao)

IS REALISM / RESEARCH IMPORTANT FOR YOU IN CERTAIN THEMES?:   YES / NO. i gotta know what certain human body parts taste like u know

ARE YOU ATM OPEN FOR NEW PLOTS?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS.

DO YOU HANDLE YOUR DRAFT / ASK - COUNT WELL?:  YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. it’s SO BAD FOR ME RN ASGLDKJDJKA i’m very inconsistent i’m so sorry.

HOW LONG DO YOU USUALLY TAKE TO REPLY?: 24H / 1 WEEK / 2 WEEKS / 3+ / months / years. / a lot of it has more to do w my general writing mood and if the thread im writing catches my interest, and rn im writing a TON of really wonderful and fascinating threads so they’re all super captivating for me and i try to reply asap

I’M OKAY WITH INTERACTING: ORIGINAL CHARACTERS / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / MY FANDOM / CROSSOVERS / MULTI-MUSES / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / CANON-DIVERGENT PORTRAYALS / AU-VERSIONS.

DO YOU POST MORE IC OR OOC?: IC / OOC. (i have a lot of stupid shit sorry) 

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WITH FOLLOWING OTHERS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.  

BEST WAYS TO APPROACH YOU FOR RP/PLOTTING: just send me a tumblr instant message, i know it sucks shit but im not comfy releasing my discord w everyone just yet cause i use it for personal use as well. i check tumblr on the daily so if you send me a message chances are i’ll see it and respond!

WHAT EXPECTATIONS DO YOU HOLD TOWARDS YOUR PLOTTING PARTNER:  i guess just be able to put up with my rambling and stopping and starting, a lot of characterisation choices i do go through various stages and its pretty messy so when i communicate that with others it usually ends up equally messy. just be patient with me please.

WHEN YOU NOTICE THE PLOTTING IS RATHER ONE-SIDED, WHAT DO YOU DO?:  i don’t mind! sometimes ppl have more ideas that they want to share first and i’m always super happy to listen to those ideas !! sometimes its nice to have someone with a clear guide or structure and be able to work around that rather than trying to fumble through a plot together.

HOW DO YOU USUALLY PLOT WITH OTHERS, DO YOU GIVE INPUT OR LEAVE MOST WORK TOWARDS YOUR PARTNER?:  i try to map out some basic info abt their characters that i otherwise don’t know from their bio or verses and try to pick out points of confrontation or similarities to expand on with giselle that can be used as points for like a starter to happen. its either that or sometimes i have really stupid ideas i just toss out there like ‘LMAO THEYRE BREAKING SHIT AT DISNEYLAND’ and go buck wild from there if the other person is down. i also always try to warn people or get a gauge for what subjects to avoid and steer clear of considering that giselle is a bit of a Freak(tm) and will say and do bad things.

WHEN A PARTNER DROPS THE THREAD, DO YOU WISH TO KNOW?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: if there’s something giselle did or said that upset you, i would love to know not to repeat it again (since i do still feel pretty new to the rp game, theres still plenty of time for me to make stupid mistakes). if its just a general lack of interest or uncertainty of where the plot should go, then you dont have to tell me i wont take it personally i promise ! 

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY LEAD YOU TO DROP A THREAD?: sometimes i can be made uncomfortable by certain things mentioned... it happens but its rare 

- WILL YOU TELL YOUR PARTNER?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. i don’t want to upset anyone personally and sometimes explaining the ins and outs of my discomfort make things ten times worse so i just. would rather not.

IS COMMUNICATION IN THE RPC IMPORTANT TO YOU? YES / NO.

- AND WHY?: i am the most nervous person you can meet and my brain is always giving me misinfo abt paranoia and random shit so i having clear concrete communication between two parties abt if something is going wrong or is being received poorly means the world to me.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH ABSOLUTE HONESTY, EVEN IF IT MAY MEANS HEARING SOMETHING NEGA1TIVE ABOUT YOU AND/OR PORTRAYAL?: i need it !! i still feel relatively new to all this and i need to know whats going wrong to improve !! 

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SUCH SITUATION IN A MATURE WAY? YES / NO.

WHY DO YOU RP AGAIN, IS THERE A GOAL?: to help with my confidence in writing! i have v bad anxiety when it comes to sharing my works and i write a lot of other pieces alongside this blog on ao3 and i want to develop my writing skills just in general. when it comes to like the nuts and bolts of why i rp giselle specifically, its mainly to just have fun and have a laugh w my friends who are really awesome quincy writers

WISHLIST, BE IT PLOTS OR SCENARIOS:  OH SO MANY! ive managed to fulfil a lot of my wishlist threads with like, giselle talking to characters she’s already zombified and i love all that angst but i want to do more stupid shit. i want to make it my personal goal to bully every quincy man and woman on sight. although a REAL dream would be if i got to write a thread zombifying a character who managed to escape giselle’s clutches. and more fighting! i want to get better at describing action and fights and i love to write giselle getting beat up and beating people up! more more more!! 

THEMES I WON’T EVER RP / EXPLORE:   hohoho theres a LOT... uh r*pe/dubcon threads for one, even if yeah i know writing it doesnt condone it, it makes me intensely uncomfortable to put my muse in that scenario, i feel like i have an obligation to like, protect her from that shit you know? racism is one i don’t want to transgress, even though i’m a poc, its not really cathartic or groundbreaking to write abt racism in threads its just... really fucking upsetting. also i know the quincy’s have this very close parallel to the whole n*zi imagery and ideology thing going on and i am not about to start even daring to thread that into my writing or bring those allusions and references of real life tragedies into giselle’s threads. i’ve already talked at length abt exploring giselles trans identity in rp and why im not comfortable doing so, so.... yeah! all those i guess.

WHAT TYPE OF STARTERS DO YOU PREFER / DISLIKE, CAN’T WORK WITH?: i like starters where giselle can just immediately get right into being a piece of shit. mise en scene and all that! cut out the build up and just get to the intense horror !! i don’t like starters where its not immediately clear where the characters are standing and what they’re doing and what’s happening around them. those really disorientate me and leave me kinda floundering because i always need some allusion or mention of a setting to ground giselle in a time and place other wise i cant tell what her response should be

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE MOST?:  EVIL WOMEN EVIL WOMEN EVIL WOMEN. also just characters i can wholeheartedly clown on, or also characters who have hidden depths to them and have a single panel of screentime. honestly it’s just all over the place!

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE LEAST?:  angry old men GSADJDKSJA i could never rp yhwach for example or yamamoto because idk. theyre just so crummy and boring to me. i also couldnt rp characters who always have an upper hand in battle like aizen. i like my dumbasses and i like them stupid and adaptive not just, ‘yes i know this because i Know this.’

WHAT ARE YOUR STRONG ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: i think im nice...? FKSJDKDJSA idk i hate trying to toot my own horn. sometimes i also think i make funny jokes and im pretty chill and laid back

WHAT ARE YOUR WEAK ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: my writing style is inconsistent and adapts to whatever i’m reading so sometimes it’ll be really good and i love it and other times it reads like really bad fanfic and i get carried away far too easily and write novella lengths for threads which should be much shorter. i also get shy a lot and dont think i communicate very effectively but HEYO we’re working on it!

DO YOU RP SMUT?:  YES / NO/ DEPENDS. haven’t had anybody brave enough to try yet lol

DO YOU PREFER TO GO INTO DETAIL?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH BLACK CURTAIN?: YES / NO.

- WHEN DO YOU RP SMUT? MORE OUT OF FUN OR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?: more for fun i’d imagine because that’s just giselles own attitude to sex and relationships where she doesnt want anything deep. it might show character development in one way of just showing how she regards others in a romantic sense to be used rather than actually appreciated as their own person and show how selfish she is but yeah, more out of fun

- ANYTHING YOU WOULD NOT WANT TO RP THERE?:  theres a few kinks and such but i dont think they’d ever really come up. again, just mainly no r*pe/dubcon.

ARE SHIPS IMPORTANT TO YOU?:   YES / NO lets hope this doesn’t make me sound like an asshole, but its more like a fun little side thing than anything important to giselle’s actual development and characterisation. 

WOULD YOU SAY YOUR BLOG IS SHIP-FOCUSED?: YES / NO. again, hardly anyone is brave enough to try to romance this evil cannibal.

DO YOU USE READ MORE?:  YES / NO / SOMETIMES WHEN I WRITE LONG STUFF.

ARE YOU:  MULTI-SHIP / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship  —  MULTIVERSE / Singleverse.

- WHAT DO YOU LOVE TO EXPLORE THE MOST IN YOUR SHIPS?: more how giselle likes to give over her power or dominate in different circumstances depending on who she’s with and what’s being done. BUT AGAIN, not a whole lot to explore yet.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS?: YES / NO. - i mean im down for p much anything if it vibes w giselle.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- WHAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOUR MUSE INTERESTING TOWARDS OTHERS, WHY SHOULD THEY RP WITH THIS PARTICULAR CHARACTER OF YOURS NOW, WHAT POSSIBLE PLOTS DO THEY OFFER?: if you want an evil woman to taunt and mock and hurt your muse, she’s your gal. you want her to zombify and ruin your muse, shes also your gal. you want her to insult and maim and injure, she’s also YOUR GAL. basically, if you want to do anything fucked up or sad or scary, she can help with that.

- WITH WHAT TYPE OF MUSES DO YOU USUALLY STRUGGLE TO RP WITH?:  uh muses who get really angry quickly or don’t rise or respond to her jabs and are just kinda like a flatline. theres only so much pestering and annoying she can do until realises its not working and just wanders off

- WHAT DO THEY DESIRE, IS THEIR GOAL?:  to find a goal worth living for.

- WHAT CATCHES THEIR INTEREST FIRST WHEN MEETING SOMEONE NEW?:  appearance she always takes an interest in girls almost right away. age as well because she judges old people. 

- WHAT DO THEY VALUE IN A PERSON?:  a good set of guts to ruin and strong muscles.

- WHAT THEMES DO THEY LIKE TALKING ABOUT?:  women, gore, murder, herself, music, stupid memes, gossip.

- WHICH THEMES BORE THEM?:  politics, history, quincy ideology, soul reaper ideology, hollow physiology.

- DID THEY EVER WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TRAUMATIC?:  her family tried to force the burden of upholding the quincy lineage onto her shoulders, she was thrown into the wrong prison and held in isolation, then pressured to become an undying monster in service of a god and then was nearly killed by that same man and left wandering without guidance or purpose. so, yeah?

- WHAT COULD LEAD TO AN INSTANT KILL?:  transphobia. even a whiff of it in her direction and she’ll gut you like a fish.

- IS THERE SOMEONE /-THING THEY HATE?:  the twink soul reaper who outted her.

IS YOUR MUSE EASY TO APPROACH?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?:  if you’re smart, you’ll bring a big bone for her to chew on and distract her while you ask whatever you want.

SOMETHING YOU MAY STILL WANT TO POINT OUT ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: i love my evil queen!

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by:  @bazzardburner​ cheers chicken boy !!

Tagging: @hyouketsu​ @blooming5th​ @viciousvizard​ @glacies-tempestatem​ and whoever else wishes to do this!!

[maesterkenobi]

how I run my blog

Tagged by: as usual I’ve stolen it from @mynameisanakin  Tagging: no one, i am too lazy and i follow like 14 people so. just do it if you want to.

SPEED: is not my forte. I try my best, but there are several factors that work against me in this aspect: 1) I’m a chronic procrastinator 2) I’m scatterbrained 3) I have more than one blog 4) I almost never write replies that are less than two paragraphs and I want it to make sense and be good and be enjoyable for my partner, so it takes time. I almost never reply the same day (MAYBE on discord, because there my replies are way shorter and it’s mostly to my best friend), and you’re lucky if I reply within a week. I really try to be faster on this blog because I made a promise to myself (and I was doing okay until the whole virus thing happened and I ran into a bunch of personal problems) AND I am keeping a low profile on this blog so it doesn’t get overwhelming. Long story short, if you are looking for a super active daily replies partner, I am not it for you. If you’re okay with waiting for a while but getting more developed stories and longer replies in turn, then we should talk :)

REPLIES: Are on the longer side on this blog. I don’t really have the patience for one liners because they tend to go nowhere and then feel like bread crumbs of randomness all over my blog. They’re okay sometimes, but more often than not they feel like crack. Writing replies is really exhausting for me sometimes, but I try to force myself because I WANT to do it, I’m just having issues concentrating on one thing at a time so it takes me forever.

STARTERS: I don’t write welcoming starters because 8 out of 10 times they get ignored or are so random that they lead nowhere. If someone writes me a welcoming starter, it depends on the content but usually I’ll try to make it work for me and reply. I don’t often like starter calls because most people write absolutely pointless starters. For example they’ll write a paragraph of explaining what their muse did all day (unrelated to my muse), then walk into some random place they’ve never been to (e.g. a shady bar) and suddenly get surprised by my muse being there, and/or, my personal favorite, say something like “what the hell do you want from me”? Which I struggle with for several reasons. One, if you create a setting but don’t bother explaining why we’re there, you put the entire weight of explaining that (aka creating the actual setting) on ME, but you add an additional complication by making it something that I didn’t come up with, so now I have to introduce a world YOU invented with 0 idea of why you chose that particular location in the first place. Second, you put my muse in a situation that makes no sense for them and again force me to explain that, without even giving me a good reason to. And third, I play very different muses, but most of them are going to lose interest in the conversation immediately if the first thing you say to them is rude af. So, yeah, I actually really struggle with most random starters. Please just plot with me and then I will love you forever for writing me a plotted starter that I know will not create 400 questions in my head that I then have to bother you with, which makes me feel like a nuisance. (Or at least keep the setting neutral? Or try to come up with something that seems reasonable for my muse? I always try to do that and when I am unsure, I message the person who liked my starter calls.) Speaking of which, I rarely post starter calls, because.. well, like I just kind of explained, it’s comes with responsibility and work. And I’m lazy.

INBOX: is open for memes at all times, and questions of any kind. I often don’t get notified, so I sometimes see certain messages months later - when that happens, I usually don’t reply anymore if they’re anon because I’ll assume that person forgot or isn’t even around anymore. Sorry about that! It’s an issue I’ve had on several blogs and I don’t know how to fix it. Anon hate is deleted without comment, unless I feel there’s a point in replying to it publicly, or if it’s entertaining. I don’t roleplay via inbox and therefore any “ic” questions or interactions posted in there will be treated as a one-time meme, if I can reply to them at all. Asks of sexual nature from complete strangers will usually be ignored because Obi-Wan isn’t the muse for that at all. As I’ve stated in my rules I only roleplay with mutuals and therefore won’t roleplay with someone I don’t follow, even if they ignore that rule and start rping with me via inbox. I don’t mean to be dismissive, but I have these rules for a reason and I ask that people read and respect them.

SELECTIVITY: I am selective with whom I follow because I have limited time and energy for this blog (and all my blogs) and therefore find it irresponsible and pointless to accept 600 followers and threads when I know I can’t possibly reply to even 10% of them. Before I follow someone (back) I look at their blogs; in particular at their writing (to see if I like their style and their portrayal), their rules (to see what they like/dislike and if our general understanding of the RPC, roleplay, and in a way social interactions in general go well together), and sometimes their OOC posts to get a feeling of how the other person is. (Obviously I also sometimes don’t follow back when I don’t know the muse or fandom at all.) Blog rules and ooc posts can say A LOT about a person, and there are plenty of people in the RPC (in any fandom) that quickly rose to tumblr fame with shiny graphics and fancy formatting and dozens of well-developed verses and headcanons, but they straight up suck as people outside of writing. My rules state very clearly that I discourage hateful comments, mob mentality and callout culture, and unfortunately many “popular” blogs use exactly these tools to execute their power (which comes from being admired for all the wrong reasons). So, I know many people think being selective means you only pick partners with fancy graphics and poetic writing, but for me it actually means I want decent human beings as partners. I don’t give a shit if you format your posts (as long as you cut them) or if you have a blog with a fancy theme, or just a rules google doc, or if you use icons or not. If I like your writing and you seem like a nice and reasonable person, I’m good to go. If you talk to me about dogs I’m even better to go.

WISHLIST: I always try to have one because I find it very helpful when looking for plot ideas with new partners. I will look at yours if you like a plotting call or something too, but I know not everyone has a wishlist~

HONEST NOTE: I’m not a teenager anymore and I’ve been rping for over 14 years. I work with lots of strangers, I study for a job with lots of strangers. I think about philosophical concepts a lot, about morality and human behavior and I’ve come to the conclusion that kindness, empathy and compassion are some of the core values every single person should focus on to make the world a better place. I have no patience and no interest in engaging in the absolute toxic and harmful hate movement that’s taken over this website (and other social media platforms) in whatsoever way. Occasionally I’ll make a salty comment about it, but only because I’ve had it up to here. I am here to enjoy fandom the way I used to, and the way it used to be meant to be enjoyed - not to completely ignore real issues like world politics, economical and environmental crises, in order to entertain witch hunts on people who happen to enjoy a fictional ship that isn’t 300% approved by puritan statutes of the 1600s. I am responsible for the content I seek out online, and so are you. Does it suck when I see something I dislike? Sure. Is it the fault of the person who posted it? No. Especially not when I read their rules first, like I’m supposed to, and they clearly state that the thing I dislike will appear on their blog. And even if they didn’t, it was my choice to go on their blog and look at their content. If you can’t handle taking responsibility for the content you seek out online, then you are probably not old enough to use the internet unsupervised. I am free to write, read, and post on my personal blog whatever I want, as long as I am not breaking the law. Liking a fictional ship that involves an age gap? Not illegal. Liking a fictional ship that involves siblings? Not illegal. Liking a fictional ship in which one party was abusive to the other at some point? Not illegal. Liking a fictional character who killed your fave? Not illegal. It’s fictional. Get over it. And if you really think that seeing fictional characters or ships online that YOU consider “problematic” is hurting people in real life, then you should join those politicians who burn books that are “corrupting the people’s morals and minds”, who ban video games because they “make gamers violent”, and censor songs from the radio because they “present biased views on people of public importance”. Please reflect on your behavior. Destroying someone’s life because they liked something you don’t, telling them to commit suic/ide, ruining their chance of making friends who maybe share their love for a ship or character.. that’s bullying. Some of the cases I’ve seen on here were so severe, they qualify as serious cyberbullying and should be reported to the police. I don’t give a fuck if you hate Rey/lo or Damon Salva/tore, or the Joker. You don’t go and send someone messages telling them to kill themselves because they RP it. Because that is the real crime. And finally, if you feel the need to “educate” someone you consider “problematic” for whatever reason and you actually approach them - make sure you’re actually there to educate and discuss, not to throw an opinion at them and get aggressive when they don’t immediately magically agree. Because chances are they won’t. If you choose to open a dialogue, make sure it IS a fucking dialogue and not a condescending monologue. Learn how to shape an argument, find evidence to back up your claims - because not only will you become better at talking to people in any kind of situation, you’ll also maybe realize that your opinion wasn’t as well-founded as you thought.

[trappingguy]

Rules!

1. Themes will vary with this blog. Mystery Incorporated is PRETTY dark at times, so it’ll be what you expect there. To that end, dark themes, violence and maybe swearing.

I will try my best to tag everything. These will be under the format of swearing tw. If you’d like me to tag anything specific, don’t hesitate to ask through anon / inbox / im!

I don’t have any triggers but I do ask you tag all of your NSFW (sexual) content.

Mun is of age, and as such I won’t be writing anything of the sexual nature with minors.

2. I’m private, which means I only write with mutuals (this is for my own sanity / comfort; everyone’s cool!). I’ll write with canon, oc, and crossover characters.

Although I’m private, when it comes to following people, I’m selective. We don’t have to have known each other prior to write!

As for following back, I usually take a week tops to do so - but if you’ve hit up my promo, I go through that eventually.

If it’s a crossover, I have to know the fandom and be at least a little bit confident with it. This is so I’m able to work with you, our thread and have muse for it.

I follow the tag #trappingguy. If there’s anything you want me to see, like dash commentary, just tag that and x-kit will alert me of your post! I may respond to ic stuff ic stuff if I’m feeling it.

In that sense, I’m chill with dash shenanigans with most folk, not just mutuals!

Absolutely no godmodding. It ain’t fun, fam. If you’re not sure what this term means, do look it up. This includes powerplaying, metagaming, and other things of that nature. This applies especially in fights if they happen (I’m chance-based and hope that you are too).

I can be picky with OCs. But rest assured, if you’ve followed me/interacted with my promo, I’ll always give your pages a read.

Please don’t be offended if I don’t want to interact with you (and please don’t try to guilt me into doing so!).

I DON’T CARE ABOUT AESTHETICS. I just think they’re pretty. If you don’t use formatting or anything like that, or heck - even wanna’ just do iconless rp - I have no problem with it whatsoever! It’s you, your writing and your muse I care about!

3. Please don’t rush me for starters or responses.

PLEASE understand that I have blogs galore and my muse tends to fluctuate; this can mean I’m everywhere at once and can end up neglecting a blog or two. It’s nothing personal; you know how muses are!

I have a full-time job (and I’m trying to get into screenwriting in my off-time) so sometimes I’m scrapped for time or exhausted. I’m also an introvert who deals with anxiety and depression, thus that may affect how much / how often I roleplay. If I don’t get chance to respond to anything ic or ooc, it’s nothing personal! Promise!

Chances are, I’ve probably has seen that bit of interactivity and just haven’t gotten around to responding yet.

My roleplaying style being para/multi-para, I may take a while to respond. I hoard drafts like a dragon - it’s really just the motivation to write and ship those out.

I hoard asks, but sometimes can’t find muse or interest for all of them. If it’s been a month or two, generally assume I’m not interested / can’t find muse for it. You’re free to send another though!

I answer asks from anyone - personals, rp blogs and anons. I’ll answer non-mutual asks occaisonally but I won’t be making threads out of them

4. Shippings? If they’re of similar age, sure!

If I don’t happen to be interested, don’t force anything on my character.

I do not ship incestuous ships. Do NOT follow/interact if you do.

The ship has to have chemistry; I’m generally shipping trash, but if they don’t click, they don’t click, sorry.

This is a multi-ship blog, meaning there will be more than one ship without them conflicting with eachother.

If you want to ship and I already have a ship of your choosing going with a duplicate, please don’t hesitate to hmu! My ships aren’t exclusive and each character/relationship portrayal is unique to me!

Relationships are eternal until you deem otherwise. If you’re not interested in a ship anymore, just let me know!

5. Whilst I am of age, I’m not aiming for sexual content on this blog (and will not be dealing with fetishes). The occasional joke is fine, but anything beyond that makes me uncomfortable, and I typically don’t recommend pulling it with my character if you’re interacting with me. 

6. About reblogs…

I am not a meme source, and reblogs clog up my activity. Please reblog any memes you find on this blog from their SOURCE. The exception to this rule is if there is no source; go ahead.

I don’t feel comfortable with Personals reblogging my IC or OOC posts, so please don’t do that. If I put something in the fandom tags for whatever reason (bar promos), you’re free to, though.

This goes for my art too unless it has the tag ok to rb, but otherwise only the person I drew it for can reblog it. If you wanna’ reblog something, I DO put it on my art blog eventually!

A few times is fine, as it happens, but repeatedly breaking these rules will result in me soft blocking you.

I try to participate in reblog karma as much as I can, but always reblog from the source/a meme source.

If a post or ask is for you, you’re free to reblog it to save it though - but only if you’re an rp blog!

7. I’m a para / multi-para blog, novella if I’m adventurous and have time. Whilst I may roleplay crack threads with shorter responses, this does not apply to all threads I write. This means:

I write my replies as detailed as I can muster, and length can range from 1 paragraph to 6.

Short responses (such as one-liners) in more serious threads where I’ve written a decent deal can instantly kill my muse for that thread.

Whilst I’d prefer for partners to at least somewhat match my length, it’s entirely up to you - just try your best and make sure you give me enough to work with. ♡

If my muse happen to go nuts out of nowhere - like, overboard - don’t stress too much about matching him.

8. Threads! You can yeet asks, memes, and even starters at me if I’ve liked a call! I’ll obviously have my own you can like.

You’re free to like starter calls even if we’re not mutuals; I can check out your blog that way. I still only write starters for mutuals though.

Starter memes are the BEST way to interact me because they just yeet a prompt at my face and really help me write starters. If you see me reblog one, send one!

If you want a certain verse, lemme’ know! Otherwise, I’ll probably default to a post-canon verse.

If you want to turn an ask into a thread, go ahead!

I don’t recommend writing starters for me unless we’ve discussed something. I don’t like to leave anyone hanging.

Please don’t assume things about my muse. If you’re uncertain about things, ASK.

IMs are open to mutuals, if you want to do any in-depth plotting. I also have Discord if that’s more convenient for you!

For the moment, I’m sticking PRIMARILY to Mystery Incorporated canon with some other media sprinkled in. It’s just because Fred has a lot of media to cover and I haven’t binged his stuff yet.

9. Guidelines on mains and relationships:

If we’re mutuals and we interact a lot, you’re welcome to ask me if I’d like to be your main!

Please don’t be offended if I deny, though; I typically want to pick those I trust to be my mains as well as people I can comfortably write with.

Not limited to them! I roleplay with duplicates galore so don’t be afraid to hit me up if you want to interact!

Pre-established relationships are a-okay in my book; if you have an idea for a relationship between our muses we can work towards, hit me up! I reblog those pre-established relationship memes every so often too. Romantic relationships link back to the shipping guidelines.

Also, friendship/family/rivalry relationships are EXTREMELY valid to me - so don’t feel scared about asking for them!

10. If you have any issues, please let me know and hopefully we can resolve it!

Mun is actually super nice, so don’t be afraid to hit her up!

I am absolutely terrible with IMs and Discord. I either respond quickly or days later, depends on my mood. Social anxiety tends to interfere with this (and more recently exhaustion from work) - but honestly, if you’ve sent something, I’ve likely read it and just haven’t gotten around to it yet! It’s nothing personal; trust me!

Please leave me out of drama; I’m here to have a good time, as is everyone else, and it pains me to see people arguing.

This is a little different with callouts - if I see anything on dash pertaining to any problematic users, I will take it into consideration and rb it if I believe them to be harmful.

11. To retierate, I tend to follow those that:

Write para and whom I feel my muse would click with.

Seem chill? Tone can really intimidate me honestly.

Have rules and about pages! Knowing the boudaries of my rp partners is super important as well as their lovely muses! Sometimes rules are enough, though, if you’re going to write the about eventually.

Tag their nsfw.

Don’t have massive icons - ie, have rp icons that take up an entire text post like 500x500 or something. I don’t want to clog the dash and it’s tiring to resize them.

…also, if I follow your hub blog (provided it doesn’t double as a personal), it generally means I’m cool with any blogs that are attached to it.

12. On threads…

If you’re not interested in a thread anymore, and would like to drop it, please let me know! I’d feel terrible if we’re both not having fun with it or if partners feel overwhelmed with the amount of threads we have.

Honestly, unless I let you know, our threads have no expiry date - so no need to worry about me dropping them without telling you. I can just be quite slow sometimes.

13. Mun does not equal muse! Anything my muse might say does not reflect on how I think unless I explicitly say so.

14. Know that if I follow you, I WANT to interact with you.

I literally couldn’t care less about follower counts. I care about YOU guys and our interactions.

15. Icons.

I make all of my icons by myself, however credit for the icon shape and psd goes here and here.

16. Rules are subject to change.

Please like this post if you’ve read the rules! You don’t have to, but it’s of personal reassurance to me if you have.

[ominousgreeting]

THE SCRIPT:

1. Themes will vary with this blog. Bob is a morbid guy, so I wouldn’t advise following if you’re not used to his character. There will likely be violence, themes of murder and crime, as well as that messed up obsession with wanting to kill Bart Simpson. If you’re not comfortable with that, steer clear!

I will try my best to tag everything. These will be under the format of swearing tw. If you’d like me to tag anything specific, don’t hesitate to ask through anon / inbox / im!

I don’t have any triggers but I do ask you tag all of your NSFW (sexual) content.

I’m of age, and thus I won’t be writing anything to that end with minors. Not that I’d be writing much of it anyway.

2. I’m private, which means I only write with mutuals (this is for my own sanity / comfort; everyone’s cool!). I’ll write with canon, oc, and crossover characters.

Although I’m private, when it comes to following people, I’m selective. We don’t have to have known each other prior to write!

As for following back, I usually take a week tops to do so - but if you’ve hit up my promo, I go through that eventually.

If it’s a crossover, I have to know the fandom and be at least a little bit confident with it. This is so I’m able to work with you, our thread and have muse for it.

I follow the tag #ominousgreeting. If there’s anything you want me to see, like dash commentary, just tag that and x-kit will alert me of your post! I may respond to ic stuff ic stuff if I’m feeling it. 

In that sense, I’m chill with dash shenanigans with most folk, not just mutuals!

Absolutely no godmodding. It ain’t fun, fam. If you’re not sure what this term means, do look it up. This includes powerplaying, metagaming, and other things of that nature. This applies especially in fights if they happen (I’m chance-based and hope that you are too).

I can be picky with OCs. But rest assured, if you’ve followed me/interacted with my promo, I’ll always give your pages a read.

Please don’t be offended if I don’t want to interact with you (and please don’t try to guilt me into doing so!). 

I DON’T CARE ABOUT AESTHETICS. I just think they’re pretty. If you don’t use formatting or anything like that, or heck - even wanna’ just do iconless rp - I have no problem with it whatsoever! It’s you, your writing and your muse I care about!

3. Please don’t rush me for starters or responses.

PLEASE understand that I have blogs galore and my muse tends to fluctuate; this can mean I’m everywhere at once and can end up neglecting a blog or two. It’s nothing personal; you know how muses are!

I have a full-time job (and I’m trying to get into screenwriting in my off-time) so sometimes I’m scrapped for time or exhausted. I'm also an introvert who deals with anxiety and depression, thus that may affect how much / how often I roleplay. If I don’t get chance to respond to anything ic or ooc, it’s nothing personal! Promise!

Chances are, I’ve probably has seen that bit of interactivity and just haven’t gotten around to responding yet.

My roleplaying style being para/multi-para, I may take a while to respond. I hoard drafts like a dragon - it’s really just the motivation to write and ship those out.

I hoard asks, but sometimes can’t find muse or interest for all of them. If it’s been a month or two, generally assume I’m not interested / can’t find muse for it. You’re free to send another though!

I answer asks from anyone - personals, rp blogs and anons. I’ll answer non-mutual asks occaisonally but I won’t be making threads out of them

4. Shippings? If they’re of similar age, sure! With Bob, it’s a little timey whimey since he’s married, but we could figure something out.

If I don’t happen to be interested, don’t force anything on my character.

I do not ship incestuous ships. Do NOT follow/interact if you do.

Also the same rule applies to this next thing. It would go without saying, but given the nature of this fandom... for the love of God, no shipping any of the kids with Bob.

The ship has to have chemistry; I’m generally shipping trash, but if they don’t click, they don’t click, sorry.

This is a multi-ship blog, meaning there will be more than one ship without them conflicting with eachother.

If you want to ship and I already have a ship of your choosing going with a duplicate, please don’t hesitate to hmu! My ships aren’t exclusive and each character/relationship portrayal is unique to me!

Relationships are eternal until you deem otherwise. If you’re not interested in a ship anymore, just let me know!

5. Whilst I am of age, I’m not aiming for sexual content on this blog (and will not be dealing with fetishes). The occasional joke is fine, but anything beyond that makes me uncomfortable, and I typically don’t recommend pulling it with my character if you’re interacting with me. Nonetheless, should it arise, I will tag it appropriately as nsfw //.

6. About reblogs…

I am not a meme source, and reblogs clog up my activity. Please reblog any memes you find on this blog from their SOURCE. The exception to this rule is if there is no source; go ahead.

I don’t feel comfortable with Personals reblogging my IC or OOC posts, so please don’t do that. If I put something in the fandom tags for whatever reason (bar promos), you’re free to, though.

This goes for my art too unless it has the tag ok to rb, but otherwise only the person I drew it for can reblog it. If you wanna’ reblog something, I DO put it on my art blog eventually!

A few times is fine, as it happens, but repeatedly breaking these rules will result in me soft blocking you.

I try to participate in reblog karma as much as I can, but always reblog from the source/a meme source.

If a post or ask is for you, you’re free to reblog it to save it though - but only if you’re an rp blog!

7. I’m a para / multi-para blog, novella if I’m adventurous and have time. Whilst I may roleplay crack threads with shorter responses, this does not apply to all threads I write. This means:

I write my replies as detailed as I can muster, and length can range from 1 paragraph to 6.

Short responses (such as one-liners) in more serious threads where I’ve written a decent deal can instantly kill my muse for that thread.

Whilst I’d prefer for partners to at least somewhat match my length, it’s entirely up to you - just try your best and make sure you give me enough to work with. ♡

If my muse happen to go nuts out of nowhere - like, overboard - don’t stress too much about matching him.

8. Threads! You can yeet asks, memes, and even starters at me if I’ve liked a call! I’ll obviously have my own you can like.

You’re free to like starter calls even if we’re not mutuals; I can check out your blog that way. I still only write starters for mutuals though.

I know pretty much most Bob media, bar the comics because I’ve only read a few of them.

Starter memes are the BEST way to interact me because they just yeet a prompt at my face and really help me write starters. If you see me reblog one, send one!

If you want a certain verse, lemme’ know! Otherwise, I’ll probably default to a post-canon verse.

If you want to turn an ask into a thread, go ahead!

In that sense, I don’t recommend writing starters for me unless we’ve discussed something. I don’t like to leave anyone hanging.

Please don’t assume things about my muse. If you’re uncertain about things, ASK.

IMs are open to mutuals, if you want to do any in-depth plotting. I also have Discord if that’s more convenient for you!

9. Guidelines on mains and relationships:

If we’re mutuals and we interact a lot, you’re welcome to ask me if I’d like to be your main!

Please don’t be offended if I deny, though; I typically want to pick those I trust to be my mains as well as people I can comfortably write with.

Not limited to them! I roleplay with duplicates galore so don’t be afraid to hit me up if you want to interact!

Pre-established relationships are a-okay in my book; if you have an idea for a relationship between our muses we can work towards, hit me up! I reblog those pre-established relationship memes every so often too. Romantic relationships link back to the shipping guidelines.

Also, friendship/family/rivalry relationships are EXTREMELY valid to me - so don’t feel scared about asking for them!

10. If you have any issues, please let me know and hopefully we can resolve it!

Mun is actually super nice, so don’t be afraid to hit her up!

I am absolutely terrible with IMs and Discord. I either respond quickly or days later, depends on my mood. Social anxiety tends to interfere with this (and more recently exhaustion from work) - but honestly, if you’ve sent something, I’ve likely read it and just haven’t gotten around to it yet! It’s nothing personal; trust me!

Please leave me out of drama; I’m here to have a good time, as is everyone else, and it pains me to see people arguing.

This is a little different with callouts - if I see anything on dash pertaining to any problematic users, I will take it into consideration and rb it if I believe them to be harmful.

11. To retierate, I tend to follow those that:

Write para and whom I feel my muse would click with.

Seem chill? Tone can really intimidate me honestly.

Have rules and about pages! Knowing the boudaries of my rp partners is super important as well as their lovely muses! Sometimes rules are enough, though, if you’re going to write the about eventually.

Tag their nsfw.

Don’t have massive icons - ie, have rp icons that take up an entire text post like 500x500 or something. I don’t want to clog the dash and it’s tiring to resize them.

…also, if I follow your hub blog (provided it doesn’t double as a personal), it generally means I’m cool with any blogs that are attached to it.

12. On threads…

If you’re not interested in a thread anymore, and would like to drop it, please let me know! I’d feel terrible if we’re both not having fun with it or if partners feel overwhelmed with the amount of threads we have.

Honestly, unless I let you know, our threads have no expiry date - so no need to worry about me dropping them without telling you. I can just be quite slow sometimes.

13. Mun does not equal muse! Anything my muse might say does not reflect on how I think unless I explicitly say so.

14. Know that if I follow you, I WANT to interact with you.

I literally couldn’t care less about follower counts. I care about YOU guys and our interactions.

15. Rules may be subject to change.

Please like this post if you’ve read the rules! You don’t have to, but it’s of personal reassurance to me if you have.

[cantrcturn]

Rules~

1. Themes will vary with this blog. Chances are, there’ll be dark themes, swearing, and violence. This is Bill Cipher - if you’re unsettled by the sort of content he might dish out, I wouldn’t recommend following.

I will try my best to tag everything. These will be under the format of swearing tw. If you’d like me to tag anything specific, don’t hesitate to ask through anon / inbox / im!

I don’t have any triggers but I do ask you tag all of your NSFW (sexual) content.

Mun is of age, and as such I won’t be writing anything of the sexual nature with minors. Not that I would be writing it anyway.

2. I’m private, which means I only write with mutuals (this is for my own sanity / comfort; everyone’s cool!). I’ll write with canon, oc, and crossover characters. I tend to follow most people though.

Although I’m private, when it comes to following people, I’m selective. We don’t have to have known each other prior to write!

As for following back, I usually take a week tops to do so - but if you’ve hit up my promo, I go through that eventually.

If it’s a crossover, I have to know the fandom and be at least a little bit confident with it. This is so I’m able to work with you, our thread and have muse for it.

I follow the tag #cantrcturn. If there’s anything you want me to see, like dash commentary, just tag that and x-kit will alert me of your post! I may respond to ic stuff ic stuff if I’m feeling it.

In that sense, I’m chill with dash shenanigans with most folk, not just mutuals!

Absolutely no godmodding. It ain’t fun, fam. If you’re not sure what this term means, do look it up. This includes powerplaying, metagaming, and other things of that nature. This applies especially in fights if they happen (I’m chance-based and hope that you are too). 

Given Bill’s canonical powers and presence in Gravity Falls, I know he’s kind of. OP. I am, however, open to discussing this sort of thing with you and how much he might know about your muse.

I can be picky with OCs. But rest assured, if you’ve followed me/interacted with my promo, I’ll always give your pages a read.

Please don’t be offended if I don’t want to interact with you (and please don’t try to guilt me into doing so!).

I DON’T CARE ABOUT AESTHETICS. I just think they’re pretty. If you don’t use formatting or anything like that, or heck - even wanna’ just do iconless rp - I have no problem with it whatsoever! It’s you, your writing and your muse I care about!

3. Please don’t rush me for starters or responses.

PLEASE understand that I have blogs galore and my muse tends to fluctuate; this can mean I’m everywhere at once and can end up neglecting a blog or two. It’s nothing personal; you know how muses are!

I have a full-time job (and I’m trying to get into screenwriting in my off-time) so sometimes I’m scrapped for time or exhausted. I’m also an introvert who deals with anxiety and depression, thus that may affect how much / how often I roleplay. If I don’t get chance to respond to anything ic or ooc, it’s nothing personal! Promise!

Chances are, I’ve probably has seen that bit of interactivity and just haven’t gotten around to responding yet.

My roleplaying style being para/multi-para, I may take a while to respond. I hoard drafts like a dragon - it’s really just the motivation to write and ship those out.

I hoard asks, but sometimes can’t find muse or interest for all of them. If it’s been a month or two, generally assume I’m not interested / can’t find muse for it. You’re free to send another though!

I answer asks from anyone - personals, rp blogs and anons. I’ll answer non-mutual asks occaisonally but I won’t be making threads out of them

4. Shippings? Not really looking for romantic ships, tbh. Anything else is gucci though.

If I don’t happen to be interested, don’t force anything on my character.

I do not ship incestuous ships. Do NOT follow/interact if you do.

The ship has to have chemistry; I’m generally shipping trash, but if they don’t click, they don’t click, sorry.

This is a multi-ship blog, meaning there will be more than one ship without them conflicting with eachother.

If you want to ship and I already have a ship of your choosing going with a duplicate, please don’t hesitate to hmu! My ships aren’t exclusive and each character/relationship portrayal is unique to me!

Relationships are eternal until you deem otherwise. If you’re not interested in a ship anymore, just let me know!

5. Whilst I am of age, I’m not aiming for sexual content on this blog (and will not be dealing with fetishes). The occasional joke is fine, but anything beyond that makes me uncomfortable, and I typically don’t recommend pulling it with my character if you’re interacting with me.

6. About reblogs…

I am not a meme source, and reblogs clog up my activity. Please reblog any memes you find on this blog from their SOURCE. The exception to this rule is if there is no source; go ahead.

I don’t feel comfortable with Personals reblogging my IC or OOC posts, so please don’t do that. If I put something in the fandom tags for whatever reason (bar promos), you’re free to, though.

This goes for my art too unless it has the tag ok to rb, but otherwise only the person I drew it for can reblog it. If you wanna’ reblog something, I DO put it on my art blog eventually!

A few times is fine, as it happens, but repeatedly breaking these rules will result in me soft blocking you.

I try to participate in reblog karma as much as I can, but always reblog from the source/a meme source.

If a post or ask is for you, you’re free to reblog it to save it though - but only if you’re an rp blog!

7. I’m a para / multi-para blog, novella if I’m adventurous and have time. Whilst I may roleplay crack threads with shorter responses, this does not apply to all threads I write. This means:

I write my replies as detailed as I can muster, and length can range from 1 paragraph to 6.

Short responses (such as one-liners) in more serious threads where I’ve written a decent deal can instantly kill my muse for that thread.

Whilst I’d prefer for partners to at least somewhat match my length, it’s entirely up to you - just try your best and make sure you give me enough to work with. ♡

If my muse happen to go nuts out of nowhere - like, overboard - don’t stress too much about matching him.

8. Threads! You can yeet asks, memes, and even starters at me if I’ve liked a call! I’ll obviously have my own you can like.

You’re free to like starter calls even if we’re not mutuals; I can check out your blog that way. I still only write starters for mutuals though.

Starter memes are the BEST way to interact me because they just yeet a prompt at my face and really help me write starters. If you see me reblog one, send one!

If you want a certain verse, lemme’ know! Otherwise, I’ll probably default to a post-canon verse.

If you want to turn an ask into a thread, go ahead!

I don’t recommend writing starters for me unless we’ve discussed something. I don’t like to leave anyone hanging.

Please don’t assume things about my muse. If you’re uncertain about things, ASK.

IMs are open to mutuals, if you want to do any in-depth plotting. I also have Discord if that’s more convenient for you!

9. Guidelines on mains and relationships:

If we’re mutuals and we interact a lot, you’re welcome to ask me if I’d like to be your main! You can check Bill’s about page for who’s available.

Please don’t be offended if I deny, though; I typically want to pick those I trust to be my mains as well as people I can comfortably write with.

Not limited to them! I roleplay with duplicates galore so don’t be afraid to hit me up if you want to interact!

Pre-established relationships are a-okay in my book; if you have an idea for a relationship between our muses we can work towards, hit me up! I reblog those pre-established relationship memes every so often too. Romantic relationships link back to the shipping guidelines.

Also, friendship/family/rivalry relationships are EXTREMELY valid to me - so don’t feel scared about asking for them!

10. If you have any issues, please let me know and hopefully we can resolve it!

Mun is actually super nice, so don’t be afraid to hit her up!

I am absolutely terrible with IMs and Discord. I either respond quickly or days later, depends on my mood. Social anxiety tends to interfere with this (and more recently exhaustion from work) - but honestly, if you’ve sent something, I’ve likely read it and just haven’t gotten around to it yet! It’s nothing personal; trust me!

Please leave me out of drama; I’m here to have a good time, as is everyone else, and it pains me to see people arguing.

This is a little different with callouts - if I see anything on dash pertaining to any problematic users, I will take it into consideration and rb it if I believe them to be harmful.

11. To retierate, I tend to follow those that:

Write para and whom I feel my muse would click with.

Seem chill? Tone can really intimidate me honestly.

Have rules and about pages! Knowing the boudaries of my rp partners is super important as well as their lovely muses! Sometimes rules are enough, though, if you’re going to write the about eventually.

Tag their nsfw.

Don’t have massive icons - ie, have rp icons that take up an entire text post like 500x500 or something. I don’t want to clog the dash and it’s tiring to resize them.

…also, if I follow your hub blog (provided it doesn’t double as a personal), it generally means I’m cool with any blogs that are attached to it.

12. On threads…

If you’re not interested in a thread anymore, and would like to drop it, please let me know! I’d feel terrible if we’re both not having fun with it or if partners feel overwhelmed with the amount of threads we have.

Honestly, unless I let you know, our threads have no expiry date - so no need to worry about me dropping them without telling you. I can just be quite slow sometimes.

11. Mun does not equal muse! Anything my character might say does not reflect on how I think unless I explicitly say so.

12. Know that if I follow you, I WANT to interact with you.

I literally couldn’t care less about follower counts. I care about YOU guys and our interactions.

13. These rules may be subject to change.

Please like this post if you’ve read the rules! You don’t have to, but it’s of personal reassurance to me if you have.

[psychosistr]

Uplifting- CaeJose Dancer!AU

Summary: Joseph, a transgender dmab girl, is the best dancer in her troupe and assists with teaching her mother’s class. Being larger than most girls, though, not many people are too keen on being her partner for certain lessons- namely, lifting. That is, until a new blond haired student waltzes into her life...

Edit: I have decided to make this a series and have added a second part x3

Notes: So, after reading this post by @freckledbastard​ the idea for a CaeJose Dancer!AU got stuck in my head and I ended up writing out the whole thing instead of sleeping tonight! My brain is now mush ~_~ Anyway, enjoy!

Also: The song I envisioned Joseph and Caesar’s dance to was an extended version of the song “Dance of Swords” from Steven Universe, you can easily look it up by typing the song name into Google- go check it out sometime, it’s lovely :)

Joseph sighed while looking out over the various new students of her mother’s dance class. There were certainly a lot of promising new faces, many of them already possessing limber and strong bodies that would look amazing through the art of properly choreographed dance. The best of the bunch, like Joseph, would be invited to join the Hamon Troupe- the country’s premiere dance group that always guaranteed sold out shows wherever they performed.

While waiting for the instructor, Lady Lisa Lisa, Joseph over heard the usual gossip that tended to transpire between new students and the veterans of the class that had yet to be scouted for the troupe.

Unfortunately, though, as always, it was gossip about Joseph.

“Hey, so, who’s the big guy in the pink tights?”

“Shh! Don’t call him a guy out loud or you’ll get kicked out!”

“What? Why? Who is that?”

“That’s Lady Lisa Lisa’s kid- Joseph Joestar. He’s been a member of the Hamon Troupe since he was, like, sixteen or something.”

“Seriously?! Wow, he must be REALLY good!”

“Yeah, he is. Kind of weird, though…”

“Huh? Whattaya mean?”

“I mean, well, look at how he’s dressed, for starters.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that- why’s he a wearing a girl’s uniform?”

“Eh, some weird artistic thing, I guess. Says he’s a girl and gets really mad if you call him a guy to his face.”

“Ha! Seriously?! The dude’s built like a body builder and says he’s a girl?”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know- but keep your voice down! He’s really sensitive about it and if you upset him then his mom’ll kick you out of the class.”

“Damn, what a freak…”

Joseph took a deep breath in slowly through her nose, then exhaled it through her mouth, masking the breathing exercise as part of her warm-up routine as she stretched her leg over the balance bars. She stayed close to the radio and pretended not to hear a word they said. They were idiots, anyway, she shouldn’t take what they said to heart.

Still…

Joseph took her leg back off the bar as she finished her warm-ups and looked at herself in the mirrors spread around the room: She was large and muscular, but that was simply how her body retained muscle after years of her mother’s intense training. She also kept her hair styled short and a bit messy, but that was simply how she liked it- it was easier to pin it back if she didn’t let it get too long. She wore make-up occasionally, though today wasn’t one of those days, but she was an all-or-nothing person and either went without the make-up or went over the top with full on paint and glitter until it was stage make-up level. She knew her outfit- the standard women’s class uniform of a black leotard, pale pink tights, sheer black mid-thigh length cover skirtlet, and black dance slippers- was a bit tight on her muscular form, but that’s because it was hard to find women’s clothes for someone as tall and big as she was.

Even so, none of that made her a freak, by any means. Her family accepted her, and she accepted herself, that’s all that mattered. The others were just fools intimated by her beauty and talent.

“If you all have the energy to talk, then I’ll assume that means you’re finished warming up.” The sharp voice of her mother cut through the studio like a knife and everyone jumped to attention, Joseph chuckling to herself at how nervous the new ones were. Walking to join her at the front of the studio by the radio, Lisa Lisa gestured for Joseph to turn off the music. After it was done, Joseph stood proudly beside her mother, feeling like a drill instructor surveying new soldiers. “Let me start by congratulating all of you for making it this far- merely getting into this class is quite an accomplishment. However, do not take that to mean your life will get any easier. From here on out, you will receive the most grueling training of your lives. You will eat, breathe, sleep, and bleed dance by the time I am done with you! Then, if any of you show significant promise, you MAY have the chance to join the Hamon Troupe.” She adjusted her sunglasses, looking over the students with a sternness that made the weaker ones quiver in fear. “However, don’t get your hopes up: The senior students here will quickly tell you that they have been here for years perfecting their craft and still have yet to reach the standard I hold my troupe members to.” With an elegant wave of her hand, she gestured to Joseph beside her. “This is my child, Joseph Joestar. Jojo has received personal training from me since childhood and is the standard to which the rest of you will be held to: If you do not demonstrate even half the talent Jojo has, then you won’t even be CONSIDERED for the Hamon Troupe.”

Joseph smirked at the nervous and uncomfortable faces staring at her. “That’s right, and I’m essentially the best dancer you’ll ever see, so don’t get your hopes up too high!”

“Now then, let’s get started on your first lesson!” Lisa Lisa clapped her hands together and began class, everyone hurrying to their starting points.

As Joseph set up the music for the lesson, she thought she felt someone looking at her. When she turned to look, though, everyone was already mirroring her mother’s movements.

She decided to brush it off as more people staring at her and being jealous of how amazing she was.

After the first couple weeks of lessons, they were starting to weed out the weaker links among the new students. A few had already quit and several more looked close to it by now. Others, though, were showing promise and might stick around.

The ones that had stayed were now being treated to a special lesson: The male members of the Hamon Troupe were visiting the class today to assist with the one lesson that Joseph and her mother would need help to teach properly: Lifting.

Joseph both loved and hated lift day. On one hand, lifting always looked like so much fun, the way the other girls twirled and arched in the air was dazzling. On the other hand, however, it always left her feeling depressed because of one sad, constant fact:

No one ever lifted Joseph.

With her size and weight, it was something that she had simply grown to accept over the years. Every other dancer in her classes and in the troupe would take one look at her and offer up a nervous smile and a shake of their heads when it came time to choose partners.

Today was no different, sadly.

After the troupe members had demonstrated the basics of lifting to the new students and her mother showed them the basic choreography they would use for today’s training, everyone was instructed to go find a partner. As with every other time this occurred, Joseph had resignedly found a spot to lean against one of the bars as the boys in the class hurried to pair up with the smaller, cuter girls, no one even sparing her a glance or asking her if she wanted to dance-

“Pardon me for intruding, signora, but are you not going to participate in the lesson today?”

Joseph was surprised by the smooth, accented voice suddenly speaking to her. She looked up from the spot on the floor she’d been staring at and saw one of the new students leaning on the bar beside her with an expectant look.

She hadn’t fully memorized all of the new students’ names yet, but she remembered this one standing out as one of the better dancers. He was also one of the more handsome ones, if she was being honest: He had bright blond hair, fascinating purple marks on his cheeks that were either birthmarks or tattoos, eyes that sparkled like twin emeralds, and a charming smile that could make any woman’s knees weak. He was pretty tall, too- only a couple inches shorter than Joseph herself, and quite muscular, though, again, not as much as Joseph.

Joseph also noticed him in the crowds because of how he liked to add accents to his uniform in the form of a purple and orange headband that trailed behind him as he moved and the feathered pins in his hair that fluttered whenever he turned. She could certainly appreciate his sense of style, as she too personalized her outfits by usually wearing her favorite green and yellow striped scarf around the studio and pinning various flowers to her hair (today’s flower was a pink rose with a silver clip).

She realized she’d been staring too long and looked back out at the dance floor where the students and troupe members were taking turns in the center showing off their mastery of the choreography. “Oh..yeah..uh, no, I don’t really get to participate on days like this.”

“Why is that? You’re the best dancer here, are you not?” The blond student asked with a curious tilt of his head.

“Tch, well, duh, of course I am!” She replied quickly, crossing her arms over her chest proudly. Her pride deflated a bit, though, as she watched one of the new girls being lifted into the air as if she weighed nothing, an excited smile on her face. “But..lifting’s not exactly something I can do by myself..”

“Then why not ask someone to do it for you?” He sounded almost concerned by this point.

She sighed and closed her eyes, a pout on her face. “It doesn’t do any good. No one can lift me- I’m too big.” She opened her eyes again and was surprised to see the man looking at her with a displeased expression. “What’s with the look?”

“No one can lift you? Really? Not even the members of your troupe? Have they ever TRIED?” He asked her, looking somehow insulted even though the situation had nothing to do with him.

“Er, well, no, not really. I’ve asked before, but most guys just say they can’t and- Hey! What are you-?!” She was startled when the blonde student suddenly grabbed her by the hand and led her out to the center of the dance floor. He even went so far as to harshly shove one of the troupe members who was about to take a turn out of his way. “Wait, why are we-?”

“You know the choreography, si?” He asked as he took his place across from her on the floor, getting into the starting position for the lesson’s dance.

Joseph hesitantly got into her starting position as well. “Well, yeah, of course I do, but-”

“Then dance with me.” He said firmly as the song looped back around to the beginning, leaving no room or time for argument on Joseph’s part.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She said with a huff but began to dance anyway.

The movements for the dance were simple, a way for the students to get used to each other’s tempo and movement so they could synch up well enough for the female partners to be lifted properly. The smooth twirls and measured steps were a bit boring for someone as skilled as Joseph, but she followed the choreography flawlessly. The man, whatever his name was, performed the movements with just as much ease as they slowly drew closer to one another.

When they finally reached each other, Joseph did the appropriate spin that landed her in her dance partner’s arms. Closing her eyes, Joseph prepared for the imminent hesitation or realization of how heavy she actually was to kick in so the dance would come to an abrupt end.

She was instead surprised to feel strong hands gliding smoothly over her leotard and tights so that one was braced on the back of her thigh and the other on her back. Those hands then began to effortlessly hold her weight and allow her to rise up.

“?!” Joseph opened her eyes and realized with shock what was happening as she saw everything around her shift: She was being lifted off of the ground.

Surprised gasps and murmurs filled the room at the sight of Joseph being lifted up upside down over her partner’s head. By pure instinct and her own natural dancing prowess, Joseph remembered the right way to tense her body into a graceful arch above the man below her. She held the pose effortlessly, despite it being her first time.

When she expected to be set down at the end of the dance, though, she was surprised once again by the blonde man when he lowered her back do the ground gracefully, but continued dancing with her. The song was technically about two and a half minutes long, though they’d only been taught enough choreography to cover about thirty seconds of it. Despite this, her partner seemed content to keep going and, in all honesty, Joseph was feeling too giddy to stop herself either.

They moved together flawlessly: Every brush of their hands was coordinated in perfect synch. No step was misjudged between them. Each spin they did while joined together caused Joseph’s long scarf and the twin trails of the blonde’s headband to billow around them like ribbons. The man even picked Joseph up on a few of the spins so that she could feel the wind rushing through her hair like never before.

It was all so incredible, an entirely new experience for Joseph. Sure, she’d danced with several skilled dancers over the years, but none of them had this level of strength- this PASSION behind their movements like this stranger did. Even though this was their first dance, they moved as if their very souls had been dancing together since the dawn of time. She honestly wished the song would go on forever, leaving just the two of them dancing in their own little world.

Alas, all good things come to an end eventually. The end came when the song reached its final crescendo, Joseph’s partner lifting her in the air one last time at the peak of the music before lowering her seamlessly into a dip. The way he smiled down at her made her heart skip a beat and her cheeks flush- no partner had ever looked at her like that, let alone managed to dip her without looking strained.

At the end of the song, he carefully lifted Joseph back up into a standing position. Instead of letting her go, though, he kept his hand planted firmly on her back, holding her close against him. While holding her almost protectively, he raised his other hand and pointed at the men- both the students as well as the troupe members- with that same displeased, almost angry, expression he had earlier before the dance.

“Cowards!” He yelled at them harshly, his finger pointing in an accusing, sweeping gesture at the various male dancers. “Cowards and weaklings, the lot of you! How dare you leave such a bella fanciulla on her own!” He shook his head disapprovingly. “It’s absolutely shameful to consider yourselves skilled if you’re too scared to even try dancing with someone of such high caliber.”

‘Wow..’ Joseph thought to herself, a slight blush blooming across her cheeks. ‘He seems really offended about that. It’s..kind of sweet, actually…’

He looked back up at her, a charming smile returning to his face once again. “My apologies, signora- I nearly forgot to thank you for that wonderful dance.” He took her hand in his own and placed a kiss to the back of it like a classic gentleman from an old movie. “Grazie, mia bella dea.”

Joseph’s face flushed a little more, certainly not used to such treatment- let alone from such a handsome guy. “Uh..Uh huh..” Her heart was hammering in her chest and her hand tingled where his lips had touched her skin.

He gently caressed the back of her hand with his thumb as he spoke. “My name is Caesar A. Zeppeli. It is an honor to finally meet you formally, signora Joestar.”

“C-Call me Jojo..please..” She found herself speaking even though her mind felt like a pile of mush.

“Jojo.” The way he said her name should be illegal with how sexy he made it sound. He placed one last kiss to her hand before letting it go. “I shall look forward to our next dance, mia bellissima angelo.”

“Yeah..” Joseph blushed as she watched him walk back into the crowd of dancers, holding her hand to her chest and feeling her thrumming heart beat beneath it. “Me too..”

It was the first time she had been lifted by a partner, and, she realized, the first time she’d ever looked forward to a second dance with one as well.

Next Part->

[theharellan]

rules & stuff

General

Thank you for coming to my rules page! I'd appreciate it if you could read over these to prevent future misunderstandings.

This is a Solas roleplay blog. Solas is a character from the latest Dragon Age game, Dragon Age: Inquisition. He plays a large role in the story, and thus this blog will be spoiler heavy. If you have not finished DA:I (and all its DLC) then please take caution when you follow this blog. I don't tag spoilers for any DA:I content and I would hate to spoil anyone.

Here are some basics!

mostly canon, semi-canon divergent

independent, elective

will roleplay with mutuals only

21+, not open to smut

single ship

tags triggers

Rules last updated April 2021.

Interaction

i am semi-selective & (mostly) not exclusive

I will only be roleplaying with mutuals for the foreseeable future. Starter ask memes may be turned into threads, but please make a separate post!

I will roleplay with multiples and do not practise exclusivity for either Player Characters or Canons. I have mains whose interpretations/universes I default to so that I can write in a semi-consistent universe. All duplicates I roleplay with exist in different universes.

i am singleship

This is the "(mostly)" part of the "not exclusive thing." On this blog I only ship with Iander Lavellan and am closed off for romantic ships. I am, however, incredibly interested in developing non-romantic ships- both positive and negative. As Ian is a companion OC and not Inquisitor, he exists in my Solas's universe regardless.

i reserve the right to follow & unfollow as i choose

This blog is not follow-for-follow. I like to keep my dash relatively slow moving. As mentioned, I do try to keep the opportunity for non-mutuals to roleplay with me or chat.

As for unfollowing (or soft blocking) I won't usually explain why, usually it's one of these couple reasons:

Inactivity (the main one tbh - if I see you're back I'll refollow!)

Offensive material (homophobia, transphobia, racism, sexism, etc)

Untagged Negativity / Vagueblogging (it makes me anxious)

Untagged character hate (especially Solas or Merrill hate)

As one final note on following: I don't send in passwords. I promise I read your rules before initiating interaction.

sending & receiving memes

Don't use me as a meme resource. Not all IC memes will work for two characters, so if it doesn't fit feel free to reblog. But OOC memes, symbols or asks you can send out of character, which require no interaction to send. I don't care if we're not mutuals, and I promise if you send me something I'll check to see if you reblogged it and send you something in return. I'm not a big fan of the "reblog from source" solution for non-mutuals, I just... pls. Send me something.

on messaging

I will not roleplay using Tumblr's IM system and prefer not to roleplay on IM platforms (Discord, etc) period. Feel free to message me OOC, it's open regardless of whether or not I follow you.

My Discord is also available for mutuals. Just shoot me a Tumblr IM or ask and I'd be happy to provide it!

Threads

please be patient

I am currently attending grad school and am a graduate assistant on top of that. Roleplying is a hobby, please respect that.

Before you message me asking about replies please check here for a list of my Solas threads or here for a list of Solas replies I currently owe. If you are on this page, I know I owe you. If you're not, please mesage me and let me know! I'd appreciate it, I like to keep it updated.

i'm open to any format

Banter, para, multi-para, novella are all possible. I prefer to reserve longer threads for plotted or intense interactions, and shorter threads for more casual roleplays b/c otherwise there's way too much navel gazing. Shorter threads are also much more likely to get timely replies.

I don't format beyond small text, and will roleplay with you regardless of whether you do or don't format yourself. I do use 100x100 icons (except in specific AUs where I have no icons to speak of), but am open to iconless roleplay if you don't use them.

Tagging

common triggers on this blog

This blog regularly features themes of slavery, fantasy racism, and mental illness (specifically: depression, depersonalisation/derealisation, ptsd). All themes present in the Dragon Age series will also likely appear here at some point, even if it's OOC discussion. These will be tagged when referenced.

my tagging policies

I track the tag #theharellan

I tag general triggers and will tag others upon request. My format is: #(trigger)+tw. For example a blood trigger warning would be: #blood tw.

I will also tag content warnings for things that include, for example, character death (like so: #character death cw).

NSFW is a rarity on this blog. When I do write or reblog something even vaguely NSFW it will be tagged #( nsfw )

For a full list of the tags I use often on this blog, please refer to this page here.

my tagging requests

For my comfort, please tag...

#Animal Death TW (especially pet death)

#NSFW

#Gore Images

#Negativity

#Solas Hate

My Solas Interpretation

I've been roleplaying Solas 3+ years at the time of writing, and I've expanded upon his interpretation over this time. Here are probably some of the most important things to know about my interpretation.

some notes for elvhenan-era characters

Please at least skim this post especially if you roleplay a character with knowledge of Fen'Harel.

If you roleplay an evanuris, please do not assume Solas is your friend! This has become less of a problem since Trespasser, but I'm keeping this just in case. He has no love for the evanuris (save Mythal) and will just want to fight you.

I am open to discussion so our interpretations of Elvhenan better match, but there are some things I'm not interested in changing. If you diverge from canon in a way that rewrites the evanuris as wholly benign and erase slavery from the narrative entirely, then we're not compatible.

some notes for everyone else

Do not suspect Solas of being Fen'Harel without my permission! He is canonically very careful with his identity. The exception to this will be Elvhenan-era characters, but even in those cases don't just sweep in and out him.

My Solas was not Solas first. What I mean by this is, he had several names before choosing the name Solas. I headcanon that Elvhenan elves had a pretty fluid view of names, similar to how Abelas likely was not the name that character was born with. That being said Solas is his real name.

My Solas is queer. He is panromantic, asexual, and agender. My reasoning for roleplaying him as such can be read here, but tl;dr there is no such thing as a cishet in Elvhenan.

As stated previously, he is in a canon relationship with the companion OC Iander Lavellan. I don't expect you to know the ins and outs of their relationship by any means, but it is common knowledge within the Inquisiton. You can read a summary of their relationship story here.

I write the events of Inquisition as having played out over the course of about three years rather than the canon one. My default Inquisitor does both Jaws of Hakkon and The Descent prior to the end of the game.

I've tweaked Solas's behaviour during What Pride Had Wrought to flow better. You can find a more detailed description here.

In canon Solas says some very bigoted stuff about dwarves and qunari. This holds true for my Solas, but I tend to write him as developing/learning better throughout the course of DA:I (which is supported in part by canon, but due to banter it comes across inconsistently). This isn't to say he's cured of his racism b/c it is always an ongoing process, but that he's aware enough to try to check himself.

His ultimate goal is to tear down the Veil and use his powers as a Dreamer to reshape the world to create a future for the elves/spirits- and, more specifically, the rebels he fought with before the creation of the Veil.

As one final note please refrain from making egg jokes at him or me. I'm so tired.

OOC Stuff

about me

You can call me Tas! I use she/her pronouns. I’ve been in the Dragon Age fandom for like 8 years now and I’ve been rping for like 18 years total. Probably more. I made this Solas November 22nd, 2014.

I have a personal blog (queenaeducan) and my discord is available to mutuals, just shoot me an ask!

Name: Tas Age: 26 Pronouns: She/Her Interests: Elves & cats

For Non-RP Blogs

Hello! I'm happy you're here! Feel free to send me inbox messages addressed to either myself or Solas. I encourage you to reblog my writing, meta, drabbles, graphics, etc! I only ask that you respect the fact that my Solas has a Lavellan of his own, and I won't respond to asks that imply another love interest. Also if I've reblogged writing from another rp blog, please look at their rules before reblogging it yourself. Not everyone is comfortable with it being shared throughout the fandom.

So in list form the rules are:

Send me asks

Send Solas asks

Like my rp threads / Like p much anything

Reblog my headcanons

Reblog my metas

Reblog my drabbles

Reblog my graphics / promos

DON'T reblog promos of other rp blogs

DON'T reblog text posts from other rp blogs without reading their rules/checking with them first

Remember my Solas has a love interest, and it isn't your Lavellan. Please don't send him asks about him being in a relationship w/ someone who isn't theshirallen(Ian).

If you reblog something I made/wrote pls remember I check the tags in hopes of seeing something nice.

Thank you!

[sassycassie-s-series]

All My Fault 7

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam - Damian Wayne/Batman

Rating: PG

Notes: (Masterlist) Ooh now the internet’s getting involved. Everything isn’t quite going to Jason’s original plan, but the modifications make it better XD It was kinda fun coming up with everyone’s handles. Fun fact, this is the first time Cloudy’s first name is used/revealed!

Tag List (Open): @batboys-and-other-messes​ @welovegroot @nanna-the-batmum @probsjosh

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

^^^^^

Knock-knock!

I glanced up from where I was bandaging my bleeding knuckles after the first patrol I’d been on since I arrived in the future. “Who is it?” I called.

“Damian,” Damian’s voice replied.

“Come in,” I said.

The door to my bedroom creaked open. “You’re trending,” he said, stepping in.

“Huh?”

“The Instagram photo you shared to your Cloudburst account at the beginning of the night has gone absolutely viral.” Damian approached me. “Here. Let me wrap your right hand.” He took the bandages from me with one hand, and my right hand in his other one. Gently, he began to wrap the bandage around my bleeding knuckles that had split open again when I showered.

I grinned. I’d taken a photo of my boots standing on the edge of a skyscraper and captioned it, “It’s good to be home. #CloudburstsBack” and put it on my old verified @CloudburstofGotham Instagram account, also sharing it to my vigilante Twitter. “Thanks,” I said to Damian while I picked up my phone and opened Instagram—then Twitter. The hashtag #CloudburstsBack was trending on both platforms.

Every single vigilante and hero who knew me and had social media accounts for their hero personas had liked and commented on it. One was Clark Kent, though, on his personal account that he used for journalism. Asking if he could get an exclusive interview for the Daily Planet. Vicki Vale was asking the same, but for the Gotham Gazette. Part of me wanted to keep my city pride and accept Vale’s invitation over Clark’s, but the other that really didn’t like Vicki—she just rubbed me the wrong way—wanted to accept Clark’s. Also because he was a friend.

“Well, this is going to be interesting,” I said, setting my phone down. Damian tied off the bandages. “Thank you. If I’d done that on my own they’d be a mess. My left hand is so useless at refined motor control.”

He nodded in acknowledgment. “Did you… enjoy patrol?”

“Heck yeah. Two days in a future I don’t know but patrol is a constant. Felt almost like old times. You’re a lot taller to fight next to now, though,” I said. “I used to be able to throw stuff over your head. But I guess now it’s my turn to get stuff thrown over my head.”

Damian gave a little, “Hmm,” that sounded more like a laugh than a grunt. “I suppose it is,” he said. He set his hands on my shoulders. “It is unfamiliar to have you be so much smaller than I am.”

“We should spar tomorrow. Get used to the difference,” I suggested, sitting down on my bed with my hairbrush and combing through my wet hair. “Do a partner-up where we go against Jay, Dick, and Tim. I missed a lot and you and Tim growing taller is one of those things.”

“Drake only grew three extra inches,” Damian remarked, sitting in my desk chair on a gesture from me.

“Well yeah but five-eight to five-eleven is still significant,” I remarked. “Especially when you being six-three means Dick is now shorter than all of his younger brothers.”

Damian grunted and crossed one leg over the other. “Have you made a decision on the charity ball? Regarding your escort?”

“Not yet. Figure I can wait till at least after I as a civilian am discovered,” I said.

“If it would help your decision, I would like to accompany you. I remember you always insisted I dance with you at least once per event, despite how small I was compared to you and how reluctant I was to dance.”

“I said it was good for you,” I recalled with a smile. “Told you that dancing would help you loosen up.”

“‘I am as loose as I am required to be,’ I believe is what I said in response.”

“Yeah.” I chuckled. “Okay. I’ll go. But you have to promise to dance with me.”

“I have improved since the last gala you attended,” he said.

“I'm sure you have,” I agreed.

He contemplated me for a moment. “I am not usually in the business of making promises, but this one I can fulfill. I promise to dance with you.”

I grinned widely. “Great! I look forward to it.”

“As do I.” Damian got up and moved to leave.

“Damian!” I said, reaching out and then letting my hand drop, not sure why I was reaching. Damian turned, eyebrows raised expectantly. I glanced down at the gentle-but-firmly wrapped bandages on my right hand. “Thanks for this.” I showed him the bandages as an indication of what I meant.

He ducked his head in a nod. “Of course, McCloud. Get some rest,” he said before leaving my room.

I sighed as he shut the door and flopped backward, my head hitting the pile of pillows.

Staring at the ceiling in the dark, I scrunched my eyebrows. Why was I feeling so…conflicted? Like, I wanted to go to the charity ball and I wouldn’t mind going with Damian, but I felt a certain reservation about the whole idea that I couldn’t pinpoint.

Was it the media attention I knew we’d get? I could already see the trashy tabloid headline in all caps and yellow letters: BRUCE WAYNE’S SON DATING BRUCE WAYNE’S WARD?! And sixteen clickbait Buzzfeed articles coming across my social media feeds. Was that it? Was I worried about dealing with that or putting Damian in that position? Much as I hated to admit it, Jason was right: the paparazzi and media had always loved me.

But that didn’t feel like the source of my internal struggle. If Damian didn’t want the media attention he wouldn’t have said he wanted to go with me. He would have told me to let Jason escort me—under an alias since he was technically still dead.

I crawled under the covers. I’d figure it out in the morning. Maybe I was just confused and conflicted because I was tired after a long and difficult patrol.

Burrowing into my bed on my side, I rubbed my right-hand knuckles with my left palm, still feeling Damian’s warm, callused hand holding mine as he gently bandaged my bleeding knuckles. His touch was kinder, softer, and gentler than I’d ever felt it. Damian had never really had the word “soft” in his behavioral vocabulary when I knew him as a thirteen-year-old.

I liked it. Damian as an adult had loosened up a little and unwound. It was nice. Especially when I was eight years ahead of where I should have been and a heck-of-a-lot more scared than I was willing to admit out loud. Almost a decade was plenty enough time for things to change—for the better, for the worst, for the crazier—and I was thrown in the deep end. I didn’t even know who the president was anymore. Having Damian show me a little bit more heart when I was doing my best to hide how freaked out I felt was comforting.

I drifted off to sleep.

^^^^^

@RealSuperman: “Welcome back, @CloudburstofGotham! Good to see you’re back! You were sorely missed! #CloudburstsBack”

@WonderWomanOfficial: “The world welcomes the return of the great hero of Gotham, Cloudburst. #CloudburstsBack @CloudburstofGotham”

@RealArsenal: “Yo! Cloudburst! You’re back! Stop by Star City sometime and catch up, yeah? @CloudburstofGotham #CloudburstsBack”

@OfficialOutlawHood: “Huge welcome home to my favorite member of the Bat-family! @CloudburstofGotham has returned! #CloudburstsBack !”

@NightwingOFCL: “#CloudburstsBack! We missed you so much, @CloudburstofGotham! So happy you’re home! Love you, sister!”

@OfficialNewBatman: “@CloudburstofGotham, Warm salutations.”

@OfficialOutlawHood, replying to @OfficialNewBatman: “Dude, seriously? That’s the best you can do?”

@OfficialNewBatman, replying to @OfficialOutlawHood: “I have welcomed Cloudburst in person. I am acknowledging her return online for the sake of expectations.”

@OriginalBatman, replying to @OfficialNewBatman, @OfficialOutlawHood: “Boys, behave.”

@RedRobinVigilante: “ICYMI: #CloudburstsBack! My ‘sister’ has recently returned after having been missing for 8 years! Super excited! I missed you so much, @CloudburstofGotham!”

@ClarkKentDP: “@CloudburstofGotham would you like to do an exclusive interview for the Daily Planet? Tell everyone where you were and why you’re back? DM me if you’re interested! #CloudburstsBack”

@GGVickiVale: “@CloudburstofGotham How about an interview with the Gotham Gazette now that #CloudburstsBack?”

Damian scrolled through the top hits in the #CloudburstsBack trend over breakfast, sipping his breakfast tea and munching on an apple for starters. He was grateful for the attention being on Cloudburst because, in five days, Nora McCloud would return from being lost in the time stream. She’d be bruised and exhausted in torn clothing. McCloud had already agreed to get no sleep for a night or two beforehand and let her bruises from patrol show without bothering to hide them before turning up at the Gotham PD station.

And as long as Cloudburst had been established as being back first, no one would have to know that she and McCloud were the same person. Damian took another sip of his tea thoughtfully, scrolling down. He came across another Tweet that he hadn’t seen before.

It was Cloudburst’s own. A photo of she and Damian jumping off the edge of the building, Damian’s coat flaring out around him and her hair doing the same, and another one of the moment before, when they were both standing on the edge of the building, showing off how much taller than Cloudburst Damian had grown. In both pictures, their backs were to the camera.

The caption read, “Last time I saw Batman he was still Robin and more than half a foot shorter than me! What else did I miss? XD #CloudburstsBack @OfficialNewBatman” and a second Tweet that said, “Photo creds to @RedRobinVigilante! I missed you too, brother!”

Damian “liked” and “retweeted” it saying, “We will catch you up.” On his official Batman account.

Tim stumbled into the kitchen, tablet in his hand playing the local news’ livestream.

“—top story this morning is the return of the Gotham vigilante known as Cloudburst. The vigilante was last seen eight years ago when the android fleet known as the Time Bombs attacked for the first time. Since then there has been no trace of her until last night when she posted this image to Instagram and Twitter with the caption, ‘It’s good to be home. Hashtag-Cloudburst’s Back.’ The post quickly went viral and several citizens of Gotham Tweeted about sightings of her with the other members of the team of Gotham protectors commonly nicknamed the Bat-Family. She was seen with the younger Batman for most of the night, according to most sightings. She has yet to release an official statement about where she’s been, but we’re grateful to have a familiar pair of eyes watching our streets,” the lady was saying.

Tim sat at the breakfast bar and started to munch distractedly on a bagel, not even realizing it. Damian could have put a rotten tomato in its place and Tim probably wouldn’t even notice. He was too focused on his tablet. “They’re wrong,” he muttered. “The Time Bombs didn’t attack for the first time back then. It just seemed like that since they jumped back in time. Their first attack was now because they were made now…”

Damian didn’t say anything, just continued to eat his apple and look through the social media feed.

Next

[donofdepravity]

Please read my rules before interacting, weather you are a prospective RP-partner, or a Spectator. All Blog navigation is centralized on my Links page, which is also mobile friendly.

Greetings: -This blog is R18+ because of NSFW. Being upfront. -You can call me Rave. They/Them pronouns. I am 25+ (Timezone is The Future™) -If you interact with me, I will assume you have read these rules in full. (And vice versa if I interact with you.) -This blog is Indie & Private. (No RP group affiliation. If you follow me I’ll check out your blog, but I won’t follow everyone back.) -FF7 characters preferred, but I will consider crossovers. Anons are welcome! -Regarding OCs, I will only be interacting with OCs of current mutuals. Any interactions outside of this are purely at my own discretion. Do not request otherwise. (I used to just be selective with OCs but recently I’ve had a difficult time with an OC mun not respecting that and pushing interactions.) -No drama / rudeness / hostility. I will not publish asks stirring trouble, and will block people if need be. -I lose track of Tumblr IMs easily, so if you are IM only and I seem like I’ve forgotten our convo, hmu again so I get a refreshed notification.) -Discord is available for mutuals. Please, I prefer it over Tumblr IMs!

Spectators, please do not reblog my threads. I’d love to hear from you if you’re enjoying things in IMs or my inbox, though!

Dark Themes: -THIS IS A FUCKED UP VILLAIN MUSE. PLEASE BE AWARE OF THIS. He WILL be gross. -Angst / Violence / Death and other dark themes not limited to the aforementioned will appear on this blog. If these bother you, do not follow me.  I do tag everything, if you are selectively uncomfortable please check my TW tags page to check what I tag. -Anything verging on or in the extreme (Re the above, or within smut topics) will be hidden under cuts. (I don’t hide general NS/FW, but it is tagged if you wish to avoid it.) -Basically, if a post I’m writing or replying to involves what I believe to be a triggering topic, I’ll tag it. -If you need anything specific tagged, please let me know. -I do not have any particular triggers myself for you to tag.

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Ships -Where to even start. Uh. So ironically I’m not particularly looking to ship on this blog since he’s not a primary muse of mine. But ships will be considered within a plot context. -My Corneo is primarily hetero. He won’t knowingly fuck a guy, but he will appreciate a pretty boy, and he’s not above wanking off to, or with other men. Maybe if he were drunk enough he’d fuck a guy. -In general as a person I am a Multi-Shipper. If for some disturbing reason you ship your muse with Corneo, you’re welcome to tell me. But ask first rather than presume. He’s got a rep for one-night-stands with his brides of course, but I will still be selective threading. -Romantic involvement however he is much more selective, so there will be chemistry required. -UNLESS STATED OTHERWISE: ALL SHIPS, EVEN WITHIN A VERSE, EXIST IN SEPARATE MINI ALTERNATE VERSES. -Please do not pre-establish a relationship with my muse without discussing it with me. Talk to me first if you are interested in that.

Smut -Smut will occasionally appear on this blog if my my brain decides it’s in the/a cursed mood. But if you want to write it with me, let’s discuss it a bit first privately. -While I do love me some good horny writing, I can appreciate its not for everyone. I am open to fade to blacks / morning after if you are not smut-inclined. -Once any flirting progresses to smut it will be tagged with: ‘⋙{ ns/fw }’ - It is my general NS/FW tag. Any TWs will be applied additionally.

Dark Themes -As I mentioned dark topics before, I’m not adverse to some borderline topics, acknowledging mun does not equal muse. -I will tag Selfcest or anything grey-zone ‘problematic’ if relevant in case you prefer to block it. -Where relevant dub con / non con or other such triggers will be tagged. Please be aware that any threads containing as such serve a plotted narrative purpose and are not rape fetishization. I’m not changing my content. If you have a problem with grasping this concept, please leave. Your mental health and safety is important, but also your own responsibility.

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Memes: -I will try to respond to memes / asks! Mutuals, Non-Mutuals, Anons all welcome. -Please don’t take it personally if I don’t answer your ask, sometimes things just don’t click. -Starter-memes, unless I pm you and discuss otherwise, generally these are for smaller-format threads. Just to balance out my lengths of things and make it easier for me to get something back to you.

Reply lengths: -I’m occasionally prone to writing larger Multi-Para starters. It’s just my nature. I don’t expect you to match it. Please don’t be intimidated. (But also, typically my average reply length tapers off after the starter for a more reaction-based format. -Multi-Para style is my main tendency writing with an average of 2-4 para replies. Shorter semi-para may occur at times, particularly in dash commentary or shitpost threads.

Reply Frequency: -This is not my primary muse, so I will only be checking this blog occasionally. Consider it low-activity. -When my threads start crowding I queue posts to help stagger replies. -Neither length nor reply-speed is an indicator of my interest level in a thread. Some threads are intended to be larger formal threads while others are shorter that I want to remain light for enjoyment. A varied thread diet is best. -Please do not compare my threads against each other. I plan my replies around how I know I’ll best be able to manage my schedule, as well as meshing in with my various RP partners schedules. Occasionally this means one person may receive a burst of replies in a short space of time. This is usually because we only have a narrow window to mutually be active as they may only be able to reply every few days. It doesn’t mean I’m ignoring others. I’ll get to you, just chill. Things are fine. Bother me about this? You will be likely dropped. -That said, if it’s been around a month, you are welcome to check with me if I got your reply on a thread! I’m aware Tumblr sometimes eats replies and notifications. Likely it’s sitting in my drafts to write soon. But please don’t demand constant responses. I run multiple blogs, sometimes am in the mood for different muses, and have things I do outside of Tumblr as well of course.

Threads: -If life is getting fairly busy, I can’t promise replying to random starters/tags, so please message me if you want to start something. :3 -I will post Starter/Plotting/Ship calls etc occasionally, so please hmu on those if you see them. -My ‘Open Starters’ are open to mutuals. -If we’re not mutuals and you’re looking to get my interest, you’re always welcome to send something to my inbox and I might answer it. If you don’t know what to send, please check out my meme tag for ideas.

My rules used to be so short, but unfortunately certain encounters, and trying to avoid confrontations has led to it growing into a monstrosity, sorry. If you do anything in breach of them, I’ll bring it up with you. If a reasonable solution cannot be reached, I have no qualms blocking people.

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[lucytara]

perc’ahlia & vaxleth fic: songs from the ash [1/2]

Keyleth can only look on, dazed, buzzing, those neon lights filling up her heart and her skin is where she wants him to write his songs; she licks her lips and tastes salt, electricity, copper, music. Percy idly drifts away imagining what it’d be like to control his dreams, and that if he could, he’d dream about Vex now, exactly like this, and no shadows would be lurking in the background.   [rock star/movie star au. fame isn't so bad, he says, if it introduced him to someone like her. 34k words. all links are clickable.]

songs from the ash

It’s an accident that he meets her at all, really; they just happen to be at the same afterparty.   He’d gotten an invitation and he’d promised Keyleth he’d take her if he did, secretly hoping he wasn’t yet popular enough to warrant an invite to an awards show for an art he wasn’t even involved in. But apparently he is, to his chagrin; he’s an actor, for god’s sake, not a musician. That’s likely the family influence.   Either way, it’s how he’s ended up at the Grammys with Keyleth squirming impatiently at his side as they await the announcement of the winner for “Best New Artist.” He watches faces and songs he doesn’t recognize flash across the giant screens and thinks that maybe he should start listening to the radio.   Damn his recent, more mainstream work. He should’ve stuck to indie.   Keyleth suddenly screams next to him, clapping wildly and whistling. He keeps his expression politely engaged, remembering they’re in pretty good seats and riding a wave of fame at the moment, meaning they’re likely to be panned to at random intervals for online streams of the audience, or whatever; fortunately Keyleth’s excitement is genuine and he’s a pretty good actor. Or so his reviews say.   An odd, mismatched group of people traipse up to the stage, grinning and giggling and shoving each other - one of them is huge, definitely cracking six and a half feet - and the screen behind them reads Vox Machina. Two members of the five-person group step up to the mic, eerily similar in appearance; they’re definitely related, both with long black hair and similar bone structure, though the boy is a little more angular, sharper. The woman speaks first, holding her award in the air and smiling widely; she says, “Here’s to our darling father, who told us we’d never amount to anything,” and Percy is immediately captivated despite himself. Her brother laughs loudly and raises a finger - Percy’s sure this is quite unprofessional and absolutely not allowed on television, but the audience is widely amused; Keyleth hollers next to him - and a small girl with white hair tugs the mic down and says, “No, really, thank you so much, we love our fans, thanks, this is amazing--” before the exit music starts to play.   The big guy in the back bends down and screams “Rage on!” and the crowd goes nuts, Keyleth included.   He leans over to her. “Who are they? What kind of music do they play? That was a wildly inappropriate display.”   Her eyes are bright as she turns to him. “Oh, they’re the best,” she gushes enthusiastically. “Vox Machina - they’re alternative rock, mostly, but they’ve got some songs that hedge on punk.” That explains it, Percy thinks. “Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan, they’re the twins and the frontrunners - he shreds on the guitar, she’s an amazing singer and I think she can secretly play every instrument - the shorter guy, that’s Scanlan, he definitely can play every instrument and he’s like, a classically trained singer - Grog’s the big one and he drums, obviously - and then there’s Pike, the smaller girl, who mostly plays the keys.” She barely breathes while she tells him this, her excitement getting in the way of her basic primal needs, like oxygen. She’s been trying to engage him in their music for the better part of a year, so his slight interest is driving her wild.   “Wow,” he says, because there’s not much else to say. “I’m intrigued, if nothing else.”   “I’ll get you to fall in love with them if it’s the last thing I ever do,” she declares dramatically, riding the high of their win.   He rolls his eyes but humors her; he knows better than to trample on other people’s passions.   And--   Well--   As it turns out, she’s almost right.   --   They’re at one of the smaller after-parties - he couldn’t say whose, as Keyleth had mostly planned their itinerary for the night, despite the invitations being directed at him - and though it’s crowded, it’s a cooler, looser crowd; the setting is more relaxed than he’s used to, and everyone’s letting their hair down, dancing, drinking, laughing, yelling.   The music is loud and pulses through him. Keyleth starts to sway automatically.   “I want a drink,” she shouts, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the bar. Not like he could lose her, anyway; she’s tall and towers over a lot of people there. Keyleth often gets mistaken for a model whenever they go out in public, which endlessly amuses him because she’s just so awkward. Objectively, yes, Keyleth is gorgeous, but she spends more time covered in soil and talking to the plants she fills his apartment with than him for him to ever think of her as anything models usually encompass - grace and elegance, for starters.   (First thing to know about Keyleth: she ferociously believes that in another life, she’s a florist instead of an actress, or maybe she’s a national park ranger, or she’s botanist, or a wild creature that lives in the forest and carves herself a home out of a hollow tree - in truth, she can never pick which one is most appealing to her. All of them are fitting.)   The bartender raises a quick eyebrow as he spots her, immediately coming to her service. “What can I get you?”   She smiles and her teeth sparkle. “Four shots, tequila. And then I’d like a paloma, please.”   (Second thing to know about Keyleth: she can sure fucking drink.)   The bartender nods once, looking simultaneously impressed and concerned, before shifting his attention to Percy. “You?”   He opens his mouth to answer, and that’s when he sees her.   She’s sitting on the other side of the bar, talking animatedly to her brother and a dark-skinned man with piercing eyes and long hair tied back at the nape of his neck. Her lips wrap around her straw through her smile. She’s positively radiant. She’s ethereal, she’s glowing, she’s otherwordly--   The bartender glances back to see what he’s staring at and snickers. “Yeah,” he says, understanding. “She’s fuckin’ something else, isn’t she?”   Percy swallows and says, “Erm.”   “He’ll have a mojito,” Keyleth interrupts. “Make it strong.”   --   He’s not going to talk to her, of course. He’s a gentleman and he doesn’t want to disturb her night. And, of course, she’s way out of his fucking league.   But Keyleth - bless Keyleth, who completely doesn’t give a shit about any of the things Percy does, so free-spirited and pure-intentioned - downs two shots in quick succession while pushing the other two towards Percy, who follows, choking slightly, and walks confidently around the bar to where two members of her favorite band are relaxing in the afterglow of their win.   Vax’ildan tilts his head and catches sight of the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in his life, holy shit, what the fuck, standing behind him with an easy-going grin. She slides in next to him and asks loudly (the music’s overpowering and pounding and Vax can feel it in his bones), “I love your band and I think you guys are awesome, do you wanna do shots with me?”   Vex laughs nicely over his shoulder, but he can’t tear his gaze away from this transcendent being beside him, her long red hair spiraling over her shoulders, her eyes almost the color of gold - he says, “Erm, fuck yeah.” He’s seen her somewhere before, he knows, maybe a runway - he can’t put his finger on it, she looks kind of like a model, but--   She smiles again and signals the bartender for four more shots.   “Here,” she says, passing him one, Vex one, and downs the other two by herself. Vax is fucking in love with her already. She blinks slowly, her lips in a lazy curl. “There,” she says, pleased. “Now I feel great.”   “I bet you do,” Vex replies, admiration in her voice, but she’s staring somewhere else.   Gilmore is obviously delighted. He chortles out, “What a firecracker.”   “Please excuse us,” a boy with a shock of white hair says from behind her, apologetic and uncomfortable; Vax hadn’t even noticed him until just now, but that hair on him is unmistakable--   “I’m sorry,” Vax says, completely entranced, “but what is your name?”   She leans closer to him suddenly, her fingers grasping the bar; the man next her tuts under his breath and steadies her. “I’m Keyleth,” she says, like she’s a fucking angel or something, which, Vax thinks, she probably is.   Vex repeats, “Keyleth--”   He knows that name - Keyleth, Keyleth, the way it rolls around in his mouth, Keyleth, Keyleth - “Oh, shit,” he says, recognition washing over him. “You’re in that film--!”     She laughs delightedly. “Am I?”   Vax finally tears his eyes away from Keyleth to the boy she’s with and it’s-- “You too! You were in--”   Vex finishes excitedly, “--The Sun Tree! I knew it was you, how could I not, but I didn’t want to interrupt -- oh, hells, we love that movie, it’s absolutely brilliant--” and Vax sees the anchor of her stare had been Percival the entire time, who has done nothing but silently take her in for the past five minutes, lacking Keyleth’s unconcerned nature, afraid to take a step.   “Percival Frederickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the Third,” he introduces quickly, as he is prone to do when he is nervous or showing off; in this case it’s the former.   Keyleth waves a hand airily. “You can call him Percy.”   “Percy,” Vex echoes, and oh, he has never loved himself more than when she is holding him in her eyes.   --   Our manager, Shaun Gilmore, I’m Vax’ildan, that’s my sister, Vex’ahlia. Short, brief, to the point.   “Charmed,” Gilmore says, winking and clapping Vax on the shoulder before slipping out.   Keyleth, now undeniably a little (a lot) drunk, leans her chin in palm, elbow on the bar. “Is there a garden?” she asks.   “Probably,” Vax answers. “Big property, isn’t it? Let’s have a look.”   He takes her by the hand and stands; she’s taller than him, which he thinks is fantastic, truthfully, though he’s sure they’ll be a bit more even when she’s not wearing heels, and waits for her agreement; she laughs lighter than the chime of the wind, and begins to drag him away with her. “I love flowers,” Percy hears her state as they head off, Vax’s face torn between dumbfounded and inspired.   Percy wearily collapses on the now vacant barstool next to Vex, shaking his head. “Sorry about that,” he says, still not quite able to look at her for longer than a few seconds at a time. “She’s - ah - insatiable and innocent. It’s an interesting combination.”   “Clearly,” Vex answers, her tone playful. “Not your girlfriend, I’d gathered that much.”   He nearly chokes on his drink. “No, gods, no. Best friend, co-star on occasion.”   “Good. He’s already obsessed with her,” she nods after her brother. “Better it be someone available.” She pauses. “Any particular reason you can’t bear to look at me, darling?”   His face burns red, his ears hot, his neck tingling. He peaks at her over the rim of his glasses. He catches her fingers curling around her glass - rum and coke by the looks of it - the swell of her chest peeking out of her dress, her hair let out of its braid, loose and flowing and lightly curled against her back, her cheeks, the bright blue feather behind her ear - and he says, “I’ve not meant to be rude. It’s simply that - you’re a little too beautiful and I’m - new at this, I suppose. I apologize.”   She’s silent for a moment, and when he sneaks another glance at her he’s surprised to see her expression flushed with a similar embarrassment; he’s caught her off-guard. The idea emboldens him slightly and he keeps his eyes locked on her.   She meets his gaze and her lips turn up abashedly, genuinely. “That’s charming. Thank you. I appreciate your efforts to maximize my comfort, but I don’t mind if you stare. I’m aware of how good I look.”   He laughs, startling himself. “Well, as I’ve been given permission, I must admit I feel much better about the whole thing.”   “Excellent, because I’ve my own compliments to shower upon you,” she says, and holy hells, she’s too charming and easy for her own good - the air is warm around her, all the light is coming from her smile - “Truly, Percival, let me sing your praises again - I love your films. Honestly, Vax and I have seen The Sun Tree too many times to count, I recognized you instantly - we’re big on fantasy,” she tells him, a hand briefly resting on his arm. She’s a little drunk herself, he’s realizing; but then again, who isn’t - it is a party.   “We’re filming the sequel at the moment,” he provides, holding back a laugh at her excited squeal.   “Tell me nothing,” she says. “I want to be surprised and enthralled. Will you be attending the Academy Awards in a few weeks, as well?”   “Oh, no,” he says bashfully, embarrassed that she even thinks he’s good enough to go. “My most recent film released after the cutoff date - I’ll qualify for next year, but as for this year, I have work obligations, so fortunately I can skip.” The music shifts, a base line thumping around his heart. Vex’s mouth twitches. He doesn’t think much of it. “And you?” he asks. “You’ve accomplished quite a musical feat - what’s next?”   His tone is sincere, interested; she allows a full-blown curl of her lips and moves closer, cornering him, a strangely victorious glint in her eye. “You’ve never heard our music,” she accuses, apparently amused at the revelation.   He weighs his options and decides on the truth. “No,” he admits sheepishly. “I haven’t. It’s a priority now, though. What gave me away?”   She laughs loudly, gesturing at the speakers. “This is us.”   He freezes immediately, becoming hyper aware of the beat in the background; it’s oddly refined for something so rough - it’s her voice singing, low and sensual and sharp at the edges, cutting into him with an edge that feels good - the notes are clean and the drums aren’t overpowering and it flows in a way he didn’t really think rock music, or punk-rock, whatever they are, was capable of.   She’s watching him take it in and she’s silently mouthing the words without realizing it; her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Find me someone out there whose heart isn’t full of holes, my hands are bloody from refusing to let you go. Damn. He kind of hopes she didn’t write this.   “Did you write this?” he asks.   “No,” she says, and then: “Well, sort of. The sentiment of the song came from Pike, but Vax and I helped her with the lyrics.”   “It’s good.” He clears his throat. “It’s great. You’re - you’re an incredible singer.” He frowns at his own attempt to pay her a compliment. “It’s not that I didn’t like your music, by the way. Keyleth is always telling me my taste in music is a grave offense to ‘all of the beautiful things life has to offer.’”   Vex laughs again. “And what is your taste in music?”   “I have none.”   “Well, that certainly is a problem, then, isn’t it?” Her knee brushes his. He feels the condensation of his glass dripping across his fingers. “I’ll have to fix that.”   “Please,” he answers, trying to fall back into it, relaxing against the bar. “I’m bereft. Clearly I’m missing a core defining aspect of the traditionally constructed personality. I was in a rush when I created mine.”   “It’s a good thing you’ve got me, now, dear,” she says playfully, and the world keeps turning.   Over the course of the next few hours, Percy learns that Vex is beautiful everywhere; he sees it in the way her fingers curl delicately around his wrist when she’s sincere, how her hidden talent is actually archery and not the fact that she can play most instruments, the brush of her eyelashes against her cheek as she winks (which she does, often, because she clearly knows how to get what she wants from him, from everybody); it’s in the almost sultry tone of her voice when she calls him darling and dear, her mouth against the rim of her drink, the way she throws her head back when she laughs. Vex is funny and she’s clever; he banters with her like he was born knowing the trigger to her smile, and she provides insightful commentary from angles he’s never bothered to consider. She calls him out when his words drop from his lips in ways he doesn’t intend them and he challenges her prejudices against the industry and the fame and the wealth.   “Percival, darling, we had vastly different upbringings,” she points out. “Not to dwell, as I’ve a tad more tact than that, but I do know what you come from.”   The slight hinting at his past doesn’t sting the way he’s used to; he finds he actually appreciates the promptness and matter-of-fact tone she’s adopted while discussing it. “Fair,” he concedes. “I don’t know yours, though, do I?”   “Syldor Vessar is my father,” she says, and he raises his eyebrows in shock. “Yes, you would know of him, as I’d assumed. Being a Lord yourself,” she teases, and he reddens once again. “Or is it Duke? I’ve no taste for royalty. You outrank our father by miles, though, I know that much.”   “I don’t tend to adhere to that custom,” he says. “I’m no Lord, nor Duke. I mean, technically, yes, I am - but my sister Cassandra is much more suited to the position than I.” He smirks at her. “And I get the sense you’d have a taste for the right royalty.”   “Ta,” she answers, grinning back. “And as Syldor’s bastard children, Vax and I were also quite unsuited to that life.” She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip, before adding: “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”   Ah, of course.   Being from England, she would be aware of the incident - most people who search him, he imagines, are - the fire that claimed his family and forced him and his sister into positions they weren’t ready for.   “It isn’t for you to concern yourself with,” he says gently, trying to cue to her that he appreciates it but doesn’t want to discuss it further. Fortunately, she’s perceptive and picks up on the message easily enough, offering a sharp nod in return. “I can have Cassandra stir up some trouble for your father, though, if you’d prefer. Where does he reside?”   She laughs; such a welcome sound. “Reading.”   “Marquess of Reading?”   “Yes. And your sister - Duchess of Cornwall, is that correct?”   “Yes,” he affirms, suddenly missing Cassandra terribly. “She is quite fit for royalty, though she never should’ve achieved such high status.”   “Royalty fits you as well, Percival,” Vex says, looking at him intensely, carefully, a wicked glint shining in her eye, like royalty is an outfit she’s dressing him in. “My Lord.”   A jolt of electricity shoots up his spine, channeling the rest of his bones, like he’s made of copper and metal. He isn’t sure what to make of it. “Ah, that’s - erm - really not...necessary, Lady Vex’ahlia.”   She grimaces and flips him the bird. “You’ve proved your point. I’m no Lady.”   He takes her offensive hand in his own, covering it, pulling her closer - maybe it’s the alcohol, the dimness of the fairy lights, the moon shadowing overhead - her lips red, her eyes a dark mirror of the night sky, the catch of breath in her lungs - “Say what you must, but I disagree,” he murmurs. “Look at you.”   She swallows quietly. “Yeah?”   “I’ve known plenty of people with money, dear, and they are certainly not worth you.”   --   Keyleth bends down, her face buried against the roses, fingers gently scraping against the thorns; she lays her palms flat against the grass, the mossy rocks, the rough tree bark. Her heels lay strewn somewhere by the garden path. Vax watches as if he’s in a trance, this unearthly nymph, this woodland creature - “Keyleth,” he says in awe, absolutely struck by her raw love of life, “Keyleth, what are you?”   She smiles wide and takes his hand, pressing a loose petal into his palm, and then holding it to her heart.   “Don’t you feel that?” she asks lowly, and he smells the tequila but there’s also something fresh, like rain on woodchips, fog; she inhales deeply. “The entire earth inside of me. I could’ve been a forest, once, you know.”   “You’re absolutely nuts,” he says. “I want to marry you.”   She laughs and laughs and laughs, falling back against the grass like nothing in life could ever make her happier. He lies beside her and lets her tell him of wonderful, impossible things; how she believes she belongs to another world, one where she tends to the world’s largest garden and carries the light of the sun in her bare hands, and if he were interested, perhaps the two of them could grow tomatoes together.   “I am,” he says vehemently, “I am,” and for a split second, he swears he recognizes her from a different life, a flash of a bed of flowers and a flickering pair of raven’s wings, their souls in flux across the universe.   --   Vex’s eyes dart down to his lips, her heart pounding; she’s full of fire and smoke, explosions beating against her ribcage, and there’s this boy, his gasp of white hair, his rounded glasses, his earnestness - his shy attraction, his quieted demons, his addicting voice - he’s so handsome, he’s so--   “Beautiful,” Vex whispers. “You, too, you know. You’re beautiful.”   He blinks slowly, dazedly, and she leans forward--   “Hey, Stubby,” her brother’s stupid fucking nickname for her rings in her ear, and she’s absolutely going to kill him tonight. “Come on, we’ve got to go. It’s nearly four.”   Percy pulls back, looking sheepish and nervous again. The announcement of the time deters her from murder for a moment. “Is it really?”   “Yep,” Vax says cheerfully, his arm around Keyleth, who’s a little unsteady at his side.   “Percy!” she says, and flings her arms around him overenthusiastically. “I’m having so much fun!”   “It certainly seems so,” he says, his glasses knocked askew. Vex restrains a smile, not wanting to reveal anything to her brother about how her night had gone.   “Percy, we haven’t watered your plants for hours.”   “I’m sure they’re fine.”   Vax grins, unconcerned, uncaring of whatever Vex might gather from his expression. Well, they always did differ that way. Vax wore his positive emotions on his sleeve; Vex cloaked them in whatever material she could get her hands on.   “Keyleth,” Vax says her name unbearably softly, and oh, he’s so fucking fucked. She turns to face him, releasing Percy. “It was lovely to spend the evening with you.”   He takes her hand and presses a kiss to it, and she giggles. “You too, Vax. Thanks for - humoring me.”   “I wasn’t.” He says it so seriously that she can’t doubt the sincerity.   She giggles again bashfully and says, “Well, I - thanks, and I guess I’ll - you know, see you around.”   “Definitely.”   Vex looks at Percy and rolls her eyes pointedly. He half-smiles in response, but she knows exactly what he means.   A hand smacks the back of her head. “Up. Let’s go.”   “Fuck, Vax, okay,” she snarls, instantly annoyed with him. He gets the perfect night and then ruins the climax of hers. Fucker. “I’m coming.”   It’s enough for him - he turns and starts shouting for Grog, who Vex is pretty sure has been challenging people to arm wrestling and shotgunning contests all night.   Keyleth also starts wobbling away, heading for the gate. Vex slips off the stool to her feet as Percy remains, still a bit stupefied; his eyes follow her, and he says, “Vex’ahlia.”   “Yes?” she asks, unmoving.   He seems to deliberate for a second before smiling delicately and saying, “I meant what I said.”   The spell has been broken already, and the moment is clearly over, but she bends down anyway and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, her hand resting gently underneath his jaw, his fingertips against her wrist.   “You don’t know me,” she says, slipping for the briefest of seconds, and there’s a sadness to her he hadn’t called attention to before. “Goodnight, Percival.”   “Goodnight,” he breathes out, his hand falling away as she steps to join her brother, and it’s the last time he sees her for months.   --   So, Percy’s bright, sure. He’s intelligent. But he’s also a fucking idiot.   “I can’t believe you didn’t get her phone number,” Keyleth says for the thousandth time, sending a text to Vax, who’s somewhere in the rural wilderness of Montana at the moment.   “Thanks, Keyleth,” Percy answers, disappointment unfolding in his stomach as he scrolls on his laptop, seeing paparazzi pictures of her from a few days earlier leaving a bar with some guy. He’s jealous, even though he has no reason to be - it was one night, one conversation, over a month ago. He needs to get over it.   “I can ask Vax about the guy, if you want,” Keyleth offers helpfully as a crew member touches up her make-up. They’ve started filming the sequel to The Sun Tree, called Passed Through Fire. He thinks of Vex constantly, wondering if she’ll see it, if she’ll love it, how she’ll feel watching him. He tries to do a better job. He wants his future self to impress her, somehow.   “No, it’s fine,” he says dejectedly, immediately wincing at the sound of his own pathetic voice. They’ve had this conversation before, always ending in the same denial.   Keyleth frowns, because she’s a good friend, because she wants him to be happy - “Too bad,” she says, quickly typing out a message with a flourish, “I’m asking.”   “No, Keyleth, don’t--” he tries to stop her, but it’s been sent. He hangs his head and rubs his eyes. “Balls.”   TO: Vax Hey who’s that guy your sister was with the other night? Saw the pics   FROM: Vax o that’s just jarrett. he sometimes works security w us & he acts as her bodyguard when she’s out alone   FROM: Vax y   TO: Vax Percy was totally jealous lol but don’t tell him I told you   FROM: Vax hahaha does he want her # i can just give it to u   FROM: Vax she wants his 2 lets do a swap shes always moping around now   TO: Vax I love matchmaking!!   She swipes “share contact” and gets Vex’s number in a matter of seconds - she saves it, but doesn’t do anything with it yet. “He’s her bodyguard,” she tells Percy, who perks up instantly.   “Not that it’s any of my business,” he supplies, and Keyleth just grins.   “Sure,” she says, continuing to text Vax, letting Percy have his moment of relief in private. He’s called to set a second later, and the scene goes brilliantly; they only do three takes just to get the angles, and the director has no notes for him.   He heads back to his chair, Keyleth now in full hair and makeup, still texting away.   His phone buzzes suddenly, and he opens the home screen--   Keyleth, grinning even wider, has sent him Vex’s contact details.   She’s called for her scene a moment later, and before he can even process what he’s staring at, she says, “You can thank me later.”   He doesn’t thank her. He’s done for the day, and he heads home without another word to anybody.   --   Vex is scrolling through twitter when Vax approaches from behind - she’s lived with him forever, and she can sense him coming, but she doesn’t bother deterring him - she’s got pretty good aim if he does something obnoxious.   “Guess what Keyleth told me,” Vax sing-songs in her ear, loud and annoying. She reaches up a hand and swats him away.   “What?” she asks, kind of curious despite herself.   Vax smirks. “His Royal Highness saw those pictures of you with Jarrett,” he says, shrugging. “Apparently, they made him a tad jealous...”   Vex struggles to keep her voice level; internally she’s burning again. “Is that so?”   “Yeah.”   “Well, thanks for the update,” she says, and returns to her twitter feed.   Vax rolls his eyes. “I know you fancy him,” he says. “Quit being so bloody obtuse.”   “I’m not doing anything,” she argues, not lifting her eyes from her phone. That’s not it, she wants to say. It’s more than that. He knew me, Vax, I swear. Like from somewhere else. Like recognizing someone you’ve never met. He knew.   But she doesn’t say anything.   “When was the last time you shagged about with Jarrett?” he prods, and she senses a challenge coming but she won’t give in.   She side-eyes him. “A few months ago,” she answers honestly; nothing to hide there. He knew the answer, anyway.   “Why’d you stop?”   Fucking prick. “Because--” she starts, and stops, and starts again, a sputtering engine. Because I keep dreaming in monochrome, because I see his eyes when I blink; because I can almost taste him. “Fuck off, Vax,” she says instead. He’s so beautiful it haunts her. She wants to ruin him like he’s ruining her. There’s that smoldering heat - the desire for his shy stare, probing her - she doesn’t want him to look at anyone else like he’d looked at her then.   Her phone buzzes; Vax’s name pops up, along with the contact details for Lord Percival whatever whatever de Rolo, and Vex has to do everything in her power to keep her emotions sealed tight.   “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Vax says, and she’s on the verge of combusting.   She doesn’t do anything with it. Not yet. Instead, she searches his name on twitter and follows him.   And then follows him on every other platform he has an account on.   --   @imvexthatsvax I’m flattered. I loved your album.   @percivalderolo glad to see you’re finally developing your personality, darling.   --   (Nobody really knows what to do with that exchange.)   --   It’s nothing, but Percy rereads her tweet over and over again. He still can’t shake his inadequacy - she’s so much larger than life, so confident and sure of herself, so untethered and unshaken - and he’s, well - he’s pretty fucked up.   He’s better now, sure. He goes to therapy. But the world knows his story and to them, he’s like a war hero, a tragedy-turned-to-art, some sort of sad, beautiful thing that is deserving of an embrace. He feels slightly like everyone is clamoring to adopt him, like he’s lost, soulless.   Which - even if he is - he’s dealing with it. He’s trying. He’s becoming.   He hovers over Vex’s contact details again; she doesn’t have time for broken pieces of his life when hers is already so full.   --   PercivaldeRolo liked your photo.   The thing that really starts to eat at Vex is how famous he is.   He’s on the cover of magazines, he’s interviewed on talk shows, there are paparazzi pictures of him everywhere; he’s a movie star for fuck’s sake. He’s royalty. He’s every possible intimidating title tucked into one person, and he represents so much of the acceptance she and Vax never got.   PercivaldeRolo liked your photo. It’s a picture Vax took of her with her feet up on the dashboard of their tour bus. Sometimes she likes to sit up front and stare out at the unfolding scenery ahead, the countryside shifting around them, the bustling towns, the big cities, the secluded forests, the vast, empty valleys.   “Hey, Kiki, look at this,” Vax says from behind her, and she twists around to see him holding his phone up to the window. “The fields! I don’t know if the quality is any good, but the flowers are blooming--”   “It’s so pretty!” She can hear Keyleth’s exclamation through Vax’s earphones. “Percy, hey, check this out--”   “Hey, de Rolo,” Vax says, waving into the camera, and quickly shifts the phone towards her. “The gang’s all here!”   Vex suddenly can’t move, so overwhelmed by the idea that after a month, Percy can see her - he’s staring at her now, she wonders what his face his like, his eyes, if his lips are still where she left them - ”He says hi,” Vax passes on - and she smiles as her stomach bubbles up, her heart in her throat. She raises a hand carefully and waves.   “Hello, darling,” she says, and to her relief her voice sounds steady.   Vax is silent for a moment. “He says you’ve failed your duties.”   “Sorry?”   “He’s still without tunes.”   She feels herself smiling without a thought. “Keyleth isn’t helping you with that?”   “He doesn’t trust me, Vex!” She hears Keyleth yell. “He’d trust you, though--”   Vax laughs at whatever is happening on-screen. She stands, suddenly ill, and pushes past Vax. “Sorry - need to make a call,” she hastily excuses, and she glances back over her shoulder and catches sight of that white hair, those glasses, and she--   She crawls into a bunk with Pike, who says nothing and rubs her back as Vax’s voice echoes throughout the bus, Keyleth’s name falling from his lips like a prayer.   --   (She hears ta, Percival, and her lungs shudder in her chest. Pike’s hand falters over her spine.   It’s tough, she whispers to Pike.   I know, honey.)   --   But damn it, Percy likes her.   He watches her performances on YouTube, sometimes of her concerts the day after she’s played them; he reads interviews the band has done, listens and listens again to their album. He has most, if not all, of their songs memorized.   “I don’t get it,” Keyleth says one night as she re-pots one of his plants that she’s convinced is bored of its soil. “Why won’t you just talk to her?”   “Because she’s too good for me.”   “Oh, Percy,” Keyleth tuts under her breath. “You know that’s not true.”   “I know no such thing,” he states immovably, keeping his eyes trained on the old radio he’s tinkering with.   “You’re a good person.”   “Perhaps, perhaps not.”   ��Okay, I take it back,” Keyleth huffs. “You’re exasperating.”   Percy smiles. “That’s more like it.” He feels sort of bad, though, because he knows Keyleth is trying to help; he doesn’t want her to think he’s taking her for granted. “Look, Keyleth - it was easy for you and Vax, and that’s great. But I’m...struggling. And I don’t think she even - it’s been weeks, hasn’t it? She doesn’t fancy me like that.”   “Vax and I aren’t dating,” Keyleth says bizarrely, undermining everything Percy has previously believed.   “What?” he asks, craning his neck to look at her. Her expression is troubled and confused, but the flowers hold her gaze. “What do you mean?”   “I mean we aren’t dating,” she repeats, straightening a bouquet. “He’s not into me like that.”   “Keyleth,” Percy says slowly, fearing he’s entered an alternate reality, “that boy is obsessed with you.”   “He can have anyone he wants,” she reasons to herself aloud. “He’s a rock star, Percy, he’s like - he’s just so cool, and I’m just me.”   Percy’s stunned into silence, but there’s a deeper truth there, lingering underneath the absurdity of her words - he sees himself reflected in them, damaged and uncertain and afraid.   Well, balls. Maybe this is what he sounds like to her. Maybe it’s time he start leading by example.   “You aren’t just anything,” he says kindly, and Keyleth smiles brightly in response. “He’d be the luckiest person in the world if you chose to give him a chance.”   She starts humming to herself as she tends to the rest of the flowers. Percy picks up his phone and texts--   TO: Vex’ahlia Hello.   --   “Band meeting!” Vax yells as they approach a McDonald’s at two in the morning, somewhere in Vermont. They pile out of the bus, Vex clutching her phone tightly, Grog carrying Pike in on his back. He orders fifty nuggets between them and Vex knows he’ll eat about forty of them. They get five orders of fries and a couple Big Macs and hole up in a corner, even though the place is basically deserted.   “So what’d he say?” Vax pokes her in the side, shoving fries in his mouth with his free hand.   “‘Hello,’” Vex quotes, staring down at her phone.   “Well, he’s clearly thinking about you,” Pike points out, smothering her nuggets in honey mustard. “I mean, he’s had your number for awhile, right?”   “According to Vax.”   “Yep,” the boy supplies helpfully, still chewing.   “So obviously he’s been holding onto it for whatever reason, like, debating whether or not to text you,” Pike rationalizes. “What are you so worried about?”   “He’s royalty,” Vex says vehemently. “He’s a movie star.”   “You’re royalty, too,” Grog responds, and slurps loudly at his coke. “And you’re a music star.”   “What do I say?” Vex asks the group, having a mild internal crisis that nobody can quite decipher the cause of. Scanlan finally takes a stand, leaning over the table.   He says, “I’ve got an idea.” He takes her phone and types something in before sliding it back to her with a shit-eating grin. She glances down.   “‘Hey,’” she reads aloud.   “It’s perfect,” Scanlan says. “Short, sweet, to the point.”   She stares blankly at him. Vax laughs loudly, and even Pike stifles a grin.   Grog says, “I like it.”   When her expression doesn’t change, Scanlan sighs; well, he is the oldest of the group, after all, he claims, and he’s beyond petty dramatics. He says patiently, “Vex, just fucking say hi. Just be his friend - the poor guy, he always seems so lonely. What’s so terrifying about just being a friend?”   She thinks of Saundor with his hand around her throat, spitting into her face about her cruelty and selfishness and worthlessness; Syldor and the disapproval etched into his face like age lines, his eyes unforgiving and cold; she thinks of the sting of rejection, of never, ever being good enough, or talented enough, or noble enough - I know people with money and they are definitely not worth you--   TO: Percival de Rolo hello   TO: Percival de Rolo what do you think of this lyric - “and I swear that if I could, I’d rid my blood of you and give it back”   FROM: Percival de Rolo I support the sentiment.   FROM: Percival de Rolo But I implore you to keep your blood where it is. You need it to live.   “We’re good,” Vex declares to the table, and Grog celebrates by shoving five nuggets into his mouth at once.   --   It’s as if he’s finally knocked down an imagined, previously thought to be impenetrable barrier just by saying hello; she texts him all the time - when she’s bored, when she’s excited, when she’s upset, when she’s inspired; for every reason, just because - and she’s so engaging and definitive within herself that he can’t help but be drawn to her. Sometimes he feels as if his own identity is a stone’s throw away from shattering entirely, like he isn’t always sure he’s all the things he pretends to be, but he feels more himself than ever when he’s talking to her, which comforts him and terrifies him equal amounts.   (3 days ago FROM: Vex’ahlia i must say, i do quite prefer flying to driving. so much quicker. better views.   TO: Vex’ahlia Disagree. Depends on what you’re looking at, I think.   FROM: Vex’ahlia the grand canyon.   TO: Vex’ahlia Ah, well, that would be a nice view.   2 days ago FROM: Vex’ahlia how do you feel about dragons?   TO: Vex’ahlia Well, I’m convinced that all mythology came from somewhere, with a basis in reality…   FROM: Vex’ahlia i feel as if i wouldn’t trust them.   TO: Vex’ahlia You’d be one. A magnificent blue dragon hoarding treasure.   FROM: Vex’ahlia does sound like me. too complimentary, percival, truly.   Yesterday, 4:05 AM FROM: Vex’ahlia i can’t sleep. you should hear grog snore. maybe i’ll kill him just to shut him up.   TO: Vex’ahlia Dear, I think your talents are best left out of prison.   FROM: Vex’ahlia did i wake you?   TO: Vex’ahlia I shall neither confirm nor deny, for fear of you stubbornly deciding I shan’t be texted in the wee hours of the morning.   FROM: Vex’ahlia you flatter me. my every whim is meant to be answered. i expect nothing less from you.   TO: Vex’ahlia Oh, excellent, so we’re on the same page.)   Keyleth comes barging into his hotel room one evening in mid-April - they’re filming on location for the next month, somewhere just outside of Atlanta - and throws herself across his bed, her phone glowing in her hands.   “Vax invited us to a concert,” she squeaks out, overcome with exhilaration. “It’s this weekend and we aren’t filming - Saturday night in New York!”   TO: Vex’ahlia Your brother invited us to a show?   FROM: Vex’ahlia yes, i wasn’t supposed to ruin the surprise - are you going to come? :)   TO: Vex’ahlia Do you want me to come?   FROM: Vex’ahlia don’t you want to see me rock out in-person, all american-like? it’s much more satisfying than a grainy youtube video   TO: Vex’ahlia Well, with an offer like that.   “That sounds wonderful,” Percy says agreeably, his stomach knotting and tensing at the very idea.   “We get backstage passes and everything,” she informs him, almost trembling with anticipation. “Can you believe it?!”   He can, actually, as they probably could’ve gotten them anyway, seeing as who they are - but it’s the same reason Keyleth is so refreshing; she’s always herself in her eyes, nothing more and nothing less, an awkward bumbling girl who prefers trees to people despite her gift of acting. He imagines she’s the type of person to win an Oscar and say, oh, wow, I had no idea you guys felt this way about me, and it endears her to him all the more.   Percy reaches for his laptop on his nightstand. “S’pose we should start booking tickets. Where are they playing, anyway?”   “Terminal 5,” she says. “You’ve been to the city more than I have, so I’ll leave the planning to you, for once.”   “Hang on.” Percy unlocks his phone again. “It’s probably best if we go through the official channels.” Keyleth hums noncommittally as Percy dials his agent.   “Hey, Percy,” the voice greets warmly after a few rings. “How’s the shoot so far?”   “Hello, Allura,” he responds, and Keyleth echoes his greeting in the background. “Going well, thanks, but I’m actually calling in regards to some personal business.”   “Are you finally handing me a proper Hollywood scandal, Percival?”   He smiles. “Afraid not.”   “An agent can dream.” She’s teasing him, he knows - if anything, he is an agent’s dream and she’s well aware of it. “What’s up?”   “Keyleth and I have been invited to see Vox Machina in New York on Saturday night. I figured we’d spend the weekend.”   “Oh? By who?”   “The band.”   She laughs. “I approve. I can make this work - it’ll be good to have you seen out and about supporting other forms of art. Kima and I will take care of reservations for the two of you.”   “And how’s Kima?” he asks, and not just out of politeness or obligation - he loves Kima and Allura, and it couldn’t have been better luck for him and Keyleth to have agents who are married to each other, considering whenever they do anything personal it’s usually together anyway. It makes it easy for their agents to coordinate.   “She’s great. She’s going over a few releases about Keyleth’s upcoming movie - let Keyleth know that the early reviews are all overwhelmingly positive. I know she missed a few screenings already because of work.”   He brings the phone away from his mouth slightly. “Keyleth, you’re getting excellent reviews for Aramente.”   She rolls over, looking at him upside-down, her eyes bright. “Really?!”   “Yes.”   “Cool!” She stares dreamily at the ceiling for a moment. “That was a fun movie. That’s so cool.”   “Anyway,” Allura continues, “I’ll send over your reservations and any pertinent info in a few.”   “Fantastic. Much appreciated. Ta,” he says, and he hangs up.   He and Keyleth relax in silence awhile longer, lounging on his bed - Allura sends him an email with a hotel reservation and options for flights, leaving that for Percy to book himself. They decide they’ll arrive Friday early evening, sparing the risk of any travel fatigue, and then they’ll have all day Saturday to do whatever they want.   He forwards the itinerary to Vex, who texts him immediately.   FROM: Vex’ahlia we’re at the same hotel and we arrive friday morning. you’ll spend the night out with us, won’t you, percival? we have a show that night but should be done by 10:30.   TO: Vex’ahlia What are your plans after? We’d be honored   “Hey, Percy, we’ll go to Central Park, right? I mean, I love the city, but wouldn’t it be nice to have a picnic or something?” Keyleth interrupts his train of thought and he pauses typing for a moment, continuing the rest of the sentence distractedly.   “Sure - if you don’t mind people possibly approaching us we can go to Sheep Meadow,” he allows, knowing Keyleth loves meeting fans, “or we can just walk along until we find an appropriate, somewhat secluded location. And if the weather’s nice,” he adds as an afterthought, sending the message without realizing what he’s typed, which is--   TO: Vex’ahlia What are your plans? We’d be honoured. I’m coming to see you, after all.   FROM: Vex’ahlia Just me in particular? ;)   “Oh, balls,” he says, blushing furiously down at the screen, Keyleth immediately takes notice and rolls back over to read his text, and then giggles cutely.   “Freudian slip?” she sing-songs, and slides halfway off the bed, stretching her limbs.   “That man was wrong about almost everything after caving to pressure from his colleagues who didn’t like the findings of his research, and frankly it’s a sin he’s still used as an authority today at all,” Percy counters, but, well - the concept does stand, in this case. He hovers inside of himself, at war. What to say, what to say.   TO: Vex’ahlia Technically, dear, yes.   --   People take their picture in the lobby. Some fans are brave enough to approach them, and they sign autographs and smile for Snaps, Grog sticking his tongue out and Pike laughing, Vax and Vex with their peace signs, Scanlan in inappropriate poses. Gilmore checks them in and gets their keys, making sure everything’s in order, and they’re spread out among a nice suite on the thirty-second floor.   Half of them decide to just crash immediately - they don’t really have plans until their show in a few hours - and Pike curls up next to Vex in one of the bedrooms, whispering animatedly.   “Don’t make fun of me,” she starts ranting, “but I’m really excited to meet them. They’re amazing actors! Everyone’s saying they’re gonna get nominated for Oscars - apparently that new movie Keyleth’s in is like, mind-blowing - and Percival’s definitely winning for Whispers. Ugh. And he’s like - I mean, come on, Vex. He’s hot.”   Vex snickers into her arms, stretched out on her stomach. “He has a nice face, I’m not disagreeing with you there.”   Pike raises herself onto her elbows. “No, like, everywhere on that boy is nice. He’s a mechanic for fun - I read that in an interview, and he was shirtless in Whispers - he’s ripped, Vex.”   This information sinks in slowly, because Vex can’t reconcile his slenderness with muscle, but Pike’s already on her phone, searching for the proof. She makes a noise of victory in her throat, shoving the device towards Vex. “Look.”   “Holy shit,” Vex says, her eyes widening, neck snapping up. “What the bloody--”   “I told you.”   “Hells,” she says, not quite able to comprehend what she’s seeing. “Christ. Wow.”   It’s just a simple still from the movie - she resolves right then and there to watch it as soon as possible - but he’s standing in a shop, shirtless, covered in soot, and Pike had not been fucking around - he is...extremely well-defined, to say the least. Chiseled, rugged. She imagines touching him, feeling his body against hers--   Pike tells her, “I wouldn’t kick him out of bed, is all I’m saying.”   “Erm, yeah.”   “I wouldn’t kick you out of bed either, though, Vex, just so you know.”   Vex winks at her. “Oh, I’m aware, darling, as you’ve had many opportunities to do so.”   Pike digs her fingers into Vex’s side, laughing as she tickles her; Vex squeals, slapping her hands away--   --   (“Girls,” Grog says, shaking his head, as he and Vax prepare to leave for lunch.   “That’s sexist, Grog, they’re just having fun,” Vax points out. “Nothing wrong with that.”   “Oh, sorry,” Grog says, genuinely apologetic. “I thought that was just something people said.”)   --   Percy and Keyleth don’t have an eventful journey aside from the usual paparazzi catching them at the airport and groups of fans clamoring around them at the gate, but they’re in first class on the plane, and there’s a private car waiting to take them to the hotel when they land.   They step out by themselves for a late lunch, knowing their dinner won’t be until after the band’s show is over; they split a nice bottle of wine at an Italian place Keyleth had picked around the corner. They’re mostly safe from photographers, though Percy’s sure a few random patrons have snapped some pictures under-the-table. Well, it goes with the territory.   After that, Keyleth’s too wired to go back to the hotel and drags him into a bar down the street with a semi-private back room; they sit at a booth and drink jalapeno margaritas, and throughout the night fans approach, asking for pictures and autographs. They oblige every time; Keyleth’s thrilled by it, honored, like she’s being given some incredible opportunity. It’s unbearably sweet.   By the time they meet the band in the lobby - the first time Percy’s seen them all together, up-close, and boy are they an intimidating group - they’re showered, fresh, and dressed for camouflage. It’s easy to blend in the city, fortunately, though Grog probably causes a stir everywhere and Percy’s hair is a dead giveaway, but he’s wearing a beanie whereas Grog’s just - a giant. All the time. Well, it is what it is.   There’s Vex again, standing in front, even more beautiful than he remembers even though she’s dressed casually in ripped jeans and a tank and hoodie; she smiles widely at him and steps forward--   Keyleth goes flying into Vax’s arms, startling him; he lifts her up and spins her around once, beaming. “Vax!” she exclaims. “It’s so good to see you! How was the show?!”   “You too, Kiki, and it was great!” He grins back at her. “Here, meet everyone, come on - Percival, great to see you as well--”   “Cheers,” Percy answers, glancing at Pike and smiling. “Hello, I’m Percival Von Mu--”   “You can call him Percy,” Keyleth interrupts customarily, waving a hand again.   Vax wraps an arm around him and grinds a hand against his hair. “You’re famous and shit, Percival!” he proclaims, and Percy laughs despite himself. “They know who you are.”   Vax lets go of him and continues the introductions; Vex approaches him and gives him a warm hug, her arms encircling his neck, her body against his - it’s brief, too brief, and he barely has the time to process the way it makes him feel before she lets him go. Upon releasing him, a phone is suddenly shoved into his face as she says, “Look, you and Keyleth are having a lovely romantic getaway this weekend.”   Sure enough, there’s an article open on some gossip website with pictures of the two of them at the airport earlier that afternoon, deep in conversation. Percy grimaces. “They’re determined to push that angle. Apparently we have an active fanbase.”   “We do,” Keyleth pipes up. “Some of the blogs are really pretty.”   “She follows them,” Percy supplies.   “They’re really nice to us.”   Pike giggles nervously as she leans up to hug Keyleth in greeting; the blush on her cheeks doesn’t hide well. “I follow blogs dedicated to us, too. It’s fun.”   “So, shall we?” Scanlan asks, and extends his arm to Pike. “My lady?”   “Oh, thanks, Scanlan, but I’m already holding someone’s hand,” she says, holding back a smirk as she places her small fingers in Grog’s, who barely notices. Scanlan moves on with a fake sigh and a rejection he’s clearly used to, so Percy doesn’t bother feeling bad for him.   --   They have dinner at a small, hole-in-the-wall burger joint in the Village - the type that New York is famous for - and it’s actually the best burger he’s ever had in his life. She sits next to him in the booth, her boots kicked out under the table, back of her hand pressed up to her mouth when she laughs. Their thighs brush, they knock elbows. He thinks about turning and kissing her and citing the small space. Sorry, he imagines saying, I just ran out of room.   They have ciders and rate them against European ones. She’d love to live in a small town around the English countryside, she divulges; somewhere with space and sky and woods. Keyleth agrees, raising her glass. Percy says, without thinking twice, Yes, I’d probably like that.   If she notices, she doesn’t respond; she offers a fry to Pike and smacks Grog’s hand away from stealing it.   --   Vex wants to go clubbing. She misses clubbing, dancing, that escape of alcohol and pounding beats. Percy shifts next to her, his arms flexing, the muscle prominent underneath; she wants him all over her, the sweat of his body under colored strobe lights. She wants him and she wants to not think about anything else anymore, not Saundor or Syldor and their sharp, cutting words. He smiles shyly and pays the bill before anyone even knows the bill has come.   Vax invites Percy and Keyleth back to their suite to hang out and drink; Vex’s body trembles. As much as she’d love to dance - well, fame has its downsides. Perhaps not tonight. And she’s made it so long without slipping back into her old habits.   Keyleth accepts for them - Percy doesn’t react at all, but he seems to appreciate her enthusiasm; Vex can tell it’s important to him than Keyleth is happy. She finds that overwhelmingly sweet and the sudden urge to fuck it out of him entirely hits her like a gunshot. Pike gives her a knowing look and mouths, I know.   Gilmore’s out with his own friends - that man has contacts everywhere - and they crack open the hard liquor and beer, playing music over the stereo system and talking. Grog and Keyleth, in the showdown of the century, have the shotgunning contest they should’ve had at after party - Pike roots for Grog out of loyalty, to which Vax raises a finger and chants Keyleth’s name even louder; and then--   Keyleth loses by a split second, something Grog is genuinely impressed by, and gives her a high five. Considering his method of drinking involves unhinging his jaw like a snake and widening his throat until he can just pour alcohol down it without swallowing - or at least, that’s how Scanlan describes it - it’s amazing Keyleth finished as closely as she did.   Vax and Scanlan take turns selecting songs, trying to find music that appeals to Percy, who they treat as some sort of toddler, giving him about a minute of each song and asking - very slowly - if he liked it or not, before selecting a new one and doing the same thing all over again.   By the end of it, Percy has a few new artists he’s apparently a fan of - Tunng has a good song, and he’s into the electronica vibe of CHVRCHES; Hozier, he says, sounds like who he’d be if he made music, and then a few classic rock bands - and then people start drifting off one at a time, slowly. Pike smiles apologetically and says, “Being on the road’s just tiring - but you don’t have to leave! Stay, it’s cool, we can sleep through anything.”   “Stay,” Vex says, and so he does.   --   They’re playing music at a softer volume and they’re the only two left.   Vex stands at the window, looking out at the lit-up square below, the recklessness of cars, the people running like little dots on the sidewalk. Percy’s next to her, leaning on the window seat, also staring out. It’s slightly rainy and the clouds hang low.   “I wanted to go clubbing,” she confesses, though she’s not sure what she’s confessing to. “Don’t you ever miss doing things you used to be able to do before you were famous? Things that made you feel...better. Freer.”   “It’s been awhile since I’ve been a commoner,” he responds mildly, sounding sort of like a pompous asshole, but she gets what he means. He’s talking about the accident. Americans love the royal family, so they’ve known about him for ages; she imagines there aren’t many places he’s able to run to for relief and anonymity. “I’ve found comfort in other things. Mechanics.”   “It would,” she says, and nothing else.   “Clubbing, huh?” he repeats, and now he’s looking at her; she shivers without knowing why. “I can’t say I’ve ever been clubbing.”   She smiles, pressing her hands against the glass. “I can’t say that answer surprises me.”   “Am I not the type?”   “Not really, darling, no.” But she’s teasing, tone playful and light. She sees him stand out of the corner of her eye, but he’s facing her, no longer using the scenery as a pretense.   “See,” Percy says, talking about something else entirely, “this is a nice view.”   “We’re on the thirty-second floor,” she points out, not fully understanding. “I think you’re fighting your own argument.”   “Well, not exactly, as the view I’m referencing is in front of me.”   He’s so plainly forthcoming at that moment that it stuns her; it’s his version of flirting, she realizes, and she takes it in--   The light is soft, dim. Keyleth had lit a few candles, because she’s the type to light candles. Percy’s in a plain white t-shirt and black jeans, his hair ruffled and boyish, his stare sincere but bashful. Her phone’s plugged into the sound system on shuffle, and her music is low, slow, gyrating. They’re alone. She wants to devour him, fuck him until she forgets the names of her demons, until he no longer feels the torment of his own.   In a bold move, because it’s two in the morning, because she’s a little drunk, because it’s New York - she takes one of his hands and slides in front of him, pressing him back against the window, his entire body flush to hers.   “So, Percival,” she murmurs, and she’s well aware of how turned on she sounds, “you’ve never danced?”   His eyes flicker like blackness seeps into him; smoke is rising from his skin. The heat burns between them. “Like this?” He says, and she’s pleased to hear his voice shake. “Never.”   She smiles with a dangerous flash of teeth. “Good.”   --   So, what they’re doing is definitely not dancing.   She guides his hands to her hips, knowing he won’t move first without permission; her palms splay against his chest, and she’s humming the melody playing low in her throat. He can feel her breathing, the way her body sticks to him, her chest rising and falling; he’s caught up, overcome--   She sways slowly, almost grinding against him; he bites the inside of his lip on instinct, looking down at her, eyelids heavy. She’s still fucking smirking, and her hands drift up, over his shoulders, around his neck; she finally shifts her gaze up and locks eyes with him, now quietly singing the words - he’s momentarily distracted by it, because how many people get to hear her sing without a stage, and her voice is sultry and gorgeous and hot - and then he comprehends the lyrics--   When you say it like that…   His fingers curl around her hips; she drops her stare to his mouth and continues, “Let me fuck you right back,” and he about faints right there.   “Oh, holy shit,” he breathes out.   “Something wrong, dear?” she asks, and her tone is low and teasing, knowing exactly what she’s doing to him.   But he’s still drunk, too, and reservations aren’t exactly something he has the time or willpower to manage. “This isn’t music to dance to,” he says, and she laughs once, throatily.   “No,” she agrees, still slowly grinding against him. “It’s music to have sex to.”   His mouth is dry and all the flashing city lights are suddenly in the room with them. “I should’ve known,” he says, and pulls her tight against him. The smirk is suddenly gone from her face. “Only you would seduce someone with a song that isn’t even your own.”   They’re too close, it’s too dark, she’s going to fuck him here in a suite with four other sleeping people and he’s going to enjoy it and beg her for more; he cycles through the coming events in his mind and sees absolutely no issue with any of it. He’s already underneath her and she can do whatever she wants to him.   She presses her fingers against his cheek, guiding the tilt of his head, and she leans up--   They hear the unmistakable sound of the door opening and someone’s voice rings from the doorway, “Vex, darling, I know how pretty he is, but unless you’re inviting me to join, perhaps you should drag poor Percival off to somewhere private before you eat him alive, hm?”   --   Fucking Gilmore.   She’s fuming and turned on and it’s a horrible combination - Percy is actively averting his eyes from her, his hands now back against the window seat, holding himself up - and in an almost cruel fit of denial, she slides slowly back onto her feet, pressing her hips carefully against his until he’s again biting his lip, now burning red.   Gilmore heads off to bed, leaving them there, knowing he’s ruined whatever was about to happen in the suite’s living room and satisfied with it. She’s going to have a talk with him tomorrow. Fuck him, that fucking asshole, and fuck Vax for so long ago declaring him enough of family that he shares their rooms.   “Percy.” She needs him to look at her. She needs him addicted to whatever she’s planning next, anxiously awaiting her every move, his nerves standing on the precipice. He carefully glances down at her - he’s restraining himself again, Gods, she hates that, she was so close to unraveling him entirely - and she says dangerously, “This isn’t over.”   He seems almost amused at her tone and choice of words. “Is that a threat?”   “Yes.” Her mouth curls into a half-smirk, a remnant of what they almost did. “I’m going to fuck this sweet, sad boy act out of you. Who are you really, Percival?”   He shivers against her, his lips parting in a harsh inhale, exhale. “At this moment, I’m not sure I even know,” he answers unsteadily, pupils blown wide.   “Good.” She pushes off his chest, grinning broadly. He stands there unmoving, the shock and arousal still filling his veins instead of blood. He stares unblinkingly, swallowing once.   She backs away. “Sleep well,” she says airily, and heads into her room.   --   (She leans against the door and whispers, “Fuck.”   “Vex?” A voice mumbles sleepily. “Is that you?”   “Yes, Pike, it’s me,” she hisses back, waiting for the telltale sound of Percy running from their room, which comes a few moments later when the door slams. Pike sits up in bed; Vex can see her hazy outline.   “What happened?” She asks, rubbing her eyes. “Was that Percy who just left?”   “Yes.”   “Wait.” Pike’s staring in her direction. “Why aren’t you with him?”   Vex grimaces, knocking her head back against the wood. “Gilmore interrupted us.”   The girl gasps. “Like while you were doing him?!”   Vex laughs at that and then sighs, moving to throw herself across the bed. “Gods, Pike, no,” she says, an arm over her forehead. “We were - dancing. Sort of.”   Pike rubs a hand over her stomach comfortingly. “Aw, Vex, it’s okay. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of chances. I mean, come on, who’s gonna resist you? I would never.”   “Thanks, dear.”   “Anytime.”)   --   “And then she said--” he breaks off, blushing horribly, and then quotes, “‘I’m going to fuck that sweet, sad boy act out of you,’” and Keyleth’s head whips around the curtain, mouth agape, soap still lathered in her hair.   “No way,” she says, shocked and a little appreciative. “Damn, Percy, that’s hot.”   “I know,” he says. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Forgive me for being a little traditional, but I do genuinely like her.”   “And that’s a problem why?” Keyleth asks, disappearing again. “She nailed you, didn’t she? Wow.” She snickers to herself and he hears her repeat, “Sweet, sad boy act…”   “It’s not an act,” he says, mostly faking affrontement. “Am I not sweet?”   “Sure, sure,” Keyleth answers. He hears a bottle hit the floor and a small squeak of surprise before she continues speaking. “You’re nice, Percy, but you come off a lot nicer than you are. You can be cruel and cold when you want to be, or to people you don’t trust - and you don’t trust anyone. You’re...distant, I guess, is the word. From everything.”   He frowns; she’s not wrong there. “I trust you,” he points out, defiant. He hadn’t really viewed it as an act, though, but maybe he’s putting himself on subconsciously. “Semantics.”   “I’m rolling my eyes.”   “Anyway. I’m saying I like her,” he says again. “What if she’s merely - into the idea of sleeping with me and that’s it?”   Keyleth’s head pokes out of the curtain again. “Percy,” she says exasperatedly, “have you even looked at Vex? She could have anyone she wants; she’s like, beautiful. Some guy once threw a five-thousand dollar engagement ring on stage and proposed to her. She said no and kept the ring. Hell,” Keyleth adds as an afterthought and ignoring Percy’s jaw on the floor, “I’d date Vex.”   “Stick to Vax,” Percy says, still recovering from the bizarrely sexy idea of Vex rejecting some man and keeping his money but somehow wanting Percy. “I can’t compete with you.”   Keyleth laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, shutting the water off, “she’s only got eyes for you anyway.”   Percy resumes washing his face. “Well,” he says, and that’s really all there is to it.     --   Gilmore forbids them from going to boozy brunch - “It’s meant for Sundays,” he reasons with them, “and you’ve a show tonight,” - so they resort to normal brunch, though Grog and Pike are determined to sneak a mimosa; drinking always cures his hangovers and Pike’s desperately in need of relief for hers. Keyleth and Percy meet them in the lobby, Percy wearing sunglasses and looking a little more disheveled than usual, whereas Keyleth--   “Fuck,” Vex whispers to Vax, “does she always look this flawless? What the fuck, honestly.”   “Keyleth, you are hot,” Grog says randomly from behind them, and Vax bumps his arm.   “Don’t objectify women, Grog, just tell her she looks nice,” he instructs, and Grog glances at her apologetically.   “Oh, sorry,” he says genuinely. “You look real nice, Keyleth.”   She laughs good-naturedly. “Thanks, Grog, you look pretty handsome yourself.”   “She called me handsome,” he murmurs to Pike, his smile huge; she pats his arm and nods.   “Competition,” Vex hisses at Vax again, grinning. So, Keyleth isn’t the most charismatic of people, but something about her is undeniably entrancing; she’s not just beautiful. She’s the most honest person he’s ever met; she doesn’t care about her image because she’s intrinsically so good it doesn’t even occur to her that she might be projecting the wrong one. There’s no way he’s letting go of that after years and years of everyone expecting something of him.   “Kiki,” he says, falling into stride next to her; she links arms with him automatically and he turns to quickly stick his tongue out at Vex - who now, of course, only has eyes for Percy.   Whatever; more material for him, at least. If she’s going to tease him endlessly, she’s going to get it back twice as good.   Keyleth smiles at him and says, “I had a great time last night. Percy and I never go out like that. It’s cool to have such a big group of people.”   “They’re family,” Vax responds and shrugs. “It was fun to have you with us - we see each other every day, you know, so...I liked having you there.”   “Yeah?” she asks nervously, as if she really needs the statement reconfirmed.   “I like having you here now,” he tells her, his blood swirling around his heart at the sight of her slight blush. “Honestly, Keyleth, I do.”   “I’m happy to hear that,” is all she says, her eyes solidly watching the street ahead, but her fingers clutch his arm a little tighter.   --   (“Percival,” Vex greets warmly as he approaches, Keyleth now preoccupying her brother. “And how are we this morning?”   He takes his sunglasses off, wincing slightly at the light. “I’ve been better.”   Her lips twist up; her eyes are hungry and dark. She traps him like a snare. His heart thumps in his chest, his ribcage rattling.   He wants to fuck the smirk off of her face. So, maybe she’s a little right about him.)   --   Grog and Pike order mimosas before Gilmore can stop them; he waves a hand as if to say, it’s your head. They high-five across the table. Keyleth laughs and absorbs Pike in conversation about where she learned to play piano; Vax just stares, nodding along, contributing here and there but mostly content to watch; finally she turns the question on him, and he says, “I learned it to impress you,” but he’s grinning, a little snarky.   She takes it in stride. “Shut up, no you didn’t,” she huffs, but she’s smiling. “Tell me the truth.”   Ah, the truth, well--   “My mother was very musically inclined,” Vax says, surprising even himself at his honesty. Vex quiets, something that doesn’t go unnoticed. Grog, Scanlan, and Pike are now involved in a discussion on breakfast burritos and where to draw the line on ingredients, and don’t pay any attention. “Fortunately, it was a skill she passed onto us.”   “That’s nice that you have that now,” Keyleth says, and reveals herself to be more perceptive than they’d previously thought when she adds, “It’s nice to have something that keeps the people you love alive.”   It’s almost tactless - they’re at brunch and it isn’t information Vax had quite gotten around to divulging - but she isn’t fully speaking about them and their mother, and it’s what calms him, what keeps Vex from snapping. Loss can recognize loss, and Keyleth’s far-off look, her gentle, sad smile…   “You understand,” Vex states, seeking confirmation before being open; it’s not a topic the twins are normally forthcoming about.   “My mother left when I was young,” Keyleth says, very matter-of-fact. “She’s been declared dead - it’s been so long. She left for a business trip and she never came back.” Off of their stunned looks, she rectifies, “Oh, but not like that! Not like she - ran off, or something. It was supposed to be a week-long work trip; she used to take them all the time. That’s, ah…” she wrings her hands nervously. “That’s all. So I just meant - I know how you feel.”   Vax puts his fingers over hers, intertwining them. “Thanks, Kiki. And we’re sorry.”   She sort of shrugs uncomfortably, pressing on, locking eyes with Percy--   “Well,” the boy suddenly says off-handedly, leaning back, “almost my whole family is dead, so I’m not one for sympathy.”   Vex lets out a startled laugh and looks horrified; she covers her mouth hurriedly, but Keyleth giggles openly. Percy’s mouth is in a wry half-smirk.   “You can laugh,” he says, and his head falls against the booth, his eyes fluttering closed. “It’s already going to hurt forever, so you might as well laugh when it strikes you.”   Somewhere on the other end of the table, Grog is pouring an entire bottle of hot sauce on his burrito and Scanlan’s eating a raw chili pepper for a challenge; Pike is grinning while Gilmore shakes his head. Vex says, “We all have our crosses to bear, I suppose.”   “I’m not surprised.” Percy’s head tilts, following Vex’s stare. “Tortured artists. It’s so predictable it’s almost boring.”   Vax raises his glass. “Cheers, Percival.”   He supposes in some ways, it truly is the perfect phrase to describe what they are.   --   (They go to Central Park for Keyleth, who Vex is pretty sure may actually die if she’s away from nature for too long, and lounge around Sheep Meadow until they start getting recognized. It doesn’t help that Pike keeps Snapping, either, so everyone in the Manhattan area definitely knows where they are. They’re careful not to post anything of the actual famous actors until they’ve left, though, in order to deter the paparazzi, who don’t care for indie bands as much.   Vex takes a pic of Percy as he drifts off under the sun for a little while, and Keyleth says, “He didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” with a cute grin that Vex is sure is supposed to be a smirk.   Vex shows her how it’s really done and answers, “I can’t imagine why.”)   --   The show starts at eight, with a band Percy’s never heard of (shocker) opening for them called Chroma Conclave. It’s the first night of their leg of the tour - they’ll be opening for another month of shows - and Vex tells him privately that they actually hate the band’s music, but it’s a publicity thing and they can’t do anything to stop it. He’s familiar with the act of having to play nice with difficult talent.   He and Keyleth are upstairs in the VIP area - it’s tables and bar service looking down on the stage - and they get a few ciders and relax for the opening act, not paying too much attention. Internally, he agrees with Vex: they’re awful, more like metal than rock, but the crowd seems to be into it to a degree, at least. He watches fans hover around the merch table and thinks about buying a shirt as a joke; Keyleth’s almost definitely going to do it seriously.   By the time their band is about to take the stage, Keyleth’s had three ciders and she’s buzzing; Percy’s trying to keep a leveler head. The lights go out, the crowd screams, the neon signs flash; in the chaos of it all he sees them quietly settle into their instruments before--   Vex’s voice, as beautiful and sexy as it was when it was only him and her the night before comes echoing around his skull; he recognizes it immediately as their second single - well, I’ve got a story about how you left me for dead, I told you I loved you and never saw you again, now when I dream about you I hear it’s all in your head, all in your head.     “Babe, you’ve got me thinking I’m fucking crazy,” he sings under his breath, because he can’t help himself, because she’s entrancing and their music is good. Fortunately Keyleth is doing the same thing, only she’s singing all of the words and at a much louder volume.   Scanlan harmonizes with her nicely, subtly, not taking the song away from her but enhancing it - the title is Demons and he adds a haunting quality to it, like a dark vibration underneath the edges.   And then Percy realizes she’s playing the bass.   He is inexplicably, instantaneously turned on - watching her fingers move, her lips curving around the words, the way she holds the melody in her mouth - her eyes dart up, searching for his, and he sees her smile flicker. Maybe it’s only a trick of the light.   Keyleth turns toward him and screams, “She is so fucking hot!”   Finally letting go, he answers “I know” with a smile, and it’s the lightest Keyleth has seen him in years.   --   (The show is electric; the crowd can’t get enough and neither can Vex. She loves this. She loves the bright lights and the fans singing and the music burning up her skin; Vax is shredding next to her and Grog’s hammering the drums and Pike’s holding them all together, her notes a solid through-line.   And Percy - through the blinding flashes she finds his white hair and his unrestrained smile, Keyleth’s arm around his shoulders--   I’m not running out of time, babe, and you’re gonna be mine, you’re gonna be mine, you’re gonna be mine.   She’s singing to him now, but one day soon, she won’t need to.)   --   They head backstage just before the end of the set to avoid the crowd, still wrapped up in the band’s final song; Keyleth sways on her feet and keeps singing, watching from the wings. Percy’s drawn more to technique from this angle - the deftness of Scanlan’s fingers on the guitar (he’s picked up about four different instruments tonight so far), the way Pike plays with her eyes closed, Grog’s ferocity fading and swelling in beat with the music - they’re well-trained, incredibly in sync with each other. It’s a pleasure just to witness.   The song ends, the crowd screams, the room is suddenly drenched in darkness - the band stumbles their way to the wings through the dimness of the stage, tripping over each other and laughing; Keyleth cheers with the rest of the fans as the lights flash on again for the encore, bright neon colors. Vax finds her eyes amidst the chaos, as if she’s the pull to a compass, and as he gets closer she yells, “Vax, that was ama--” before he takes her face in his hands and kisses her.   The rest of the band stops in their tracks, the roar of the crowd quieting to a dull hum in their ears at the sight in front of them; Vex’s lips are parted in a very subtle jaw-drop, and Percy can only stare, caught up in a moment that isn’t his but could be--   Vex’s lips are parted, and Percy can only stare; what if she had seen him first, what if she were standing in front of him smiling, disheveled, sweating after a show and the pressure of burning stage lights; what if he were healthier, assured, better--   --   (Keyleth has never been kissed like this in her entire life - she’s never even been kissed, not really, only for work or projects or an elementary-school dare - the softness and the intensity of it overwhelms her, his palms cupping her cheeks, her fingers automatically reaching up to curl around his wrists--   He pulls away, his eyes shining, his smile gentle and apologetic; his hands stroke down her jaw, her neck. He says, You know I’m in love with you, right?   She can only look on, dazed, buzzing, those neon lights filling up her heart and her skin is where she wants him to write his songs; she licks her lips and tastes salt, electricity, copper, music. She doesn’t speak. He backs away from her, his arms dropping, and suddenly she’s missing something she wasn’t missing before.)   --   Vex is hit with the truth.   Vax kisses Keyleth and it’s so uncomplicated; he loves her, he’s in love with her, he’s been in love with her. He doesn’t think twice, he doesn’t put himself on, he doesn’t try to be anybody he isn’t to make himself worthy of giving love, or receiving love. It’s so easy and pure and genuine and nothing like her, but like all the things she wishes she could be.   She meets Percy’s eyes and sees the longing in him, clouded over with a self-doubt she recognizes all too well. He must notice the mirror in her, as well, because after a moment he gives her a sad, resigned sort of smile.   There is nothing uncomplicated about her and Percy.   --   “I’m sorry.” Vax apologizes immediately after the encore. Well, he’s not, but he is. He should have asked, or set the mood a little better, or - anything, really. “Do you think we can go and - talk, somewhere?”   Keyleth stutters over herself, seeming a bit like a frightened wild animal, but not in a caged or trapped way - just an inexperienced one. She squeaks out, “Sure,” and her attention is far too occupied to even remember Percy exists.   Vax leads her into one of the now-empty rooms backstage, and before she can get another word out, he picks up a gift bag from the couch and extends it to her.   “I actually had plans,” he says, abashed. “I was going to give you that--” That happens to be a collection of every band shirt they’d had on sale that night, and a few very early designs that aren’t in production anymore, “--and hopefully charm you with a joke about how you may be our biggest fan, but I’m yours. No competition.”   She skids her teeth across her bottom lip, digging in. Her cheeks are flushed and red, her blood on high. She’s never done this before. “I, uh--”   “You don’t have to say anything.” Vax’s eyes drop. “I shouldn’t have cornered you the way I did. I was just - overwhelmed, seeing you standing there, so happy and excited and - I don’t know. You were too beautiful.”   “Okay, stop,” she breathes out, shaking with the hammering of her heart; he’s always felt so far away to her, but here he is now, plain and forthcoming and baring his soul in front of her. “You - look, I’m just - I’m not good at this.”   “I know.” He keeps a careful distance from her. “It’s okay, Kiki.”   She says, “I do like you.” There’s no reason not to confess. “I’m not used to - feeling this way about...people. It’s…” She struggles for meaning, nervously playing with a ring on her finger. “It’s just different, and I don’t know what to do, but I do like you.”   “Do you want time?” he says, clinging to the spark of hope she’s given him. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I’d never...push you into something you weren’t ready for. You must know how important you are to me, Keyleth.”   She steps forward, reaching for his hand, and presses a delicate kiss to his cheek; he resists the urge to hold onto her and she resists the urge to ask him to.   “Yeah,” she whispers. “A little time.”     -- (Years from now, Keyleth will look back and remember Vax’s grin under the glow of the stage lights, her fingers burning their prints into his back, his lips against hers with an intimacy far too deep for her to comprehend at the time; he’ll laugh into her hair, curled next to her in bed, and say Yeah, you totally loved me.)   --   They trudge back upstairs to the bar and they all get fucked up; Vax and Keyleth keep a polite distance apart, but not uncomfortably so. Vex says she needs the image of them kissing erased from her brain, but internally she hears Saundor’s voice, you’re selfish, Vex’ahlia, and care for nobody but yourself, reckless with no regard for the wellbeing of others; Percy sits next to Pike and answers questions dutifully about his upcoming films, who he’s liked acting with the most, who’s been the biggest asshole, and, (secretly), who’s his favorite member of the band.   She winks, and he rolls his eyes; “Oh, you know.”   Vex takes another shot. He’s not sure if she’d heard or not.   --   They’re all hammered by the time they return to the hotel, but the band’s wired as they always are after a show and Keyleth’s energy is endless; none of them want the night to end. Grog herds them back up the suite, laughing as they stumble and trip over each other, and Percy rationalizes that it must be Grog’s size keeping him upright, certainly not that the rest of them are lightweights. Grog grins but keeps his mouth shut, humoring him.   Scanlan starts some sort of card game that has them all screaming over each other - Percy is the first to be out, followed by Vex, who curses at the rest of them for show - but when she gets up from the table, Percy spots that shadow of sadness again, that flimsy mask. She catches his eye and she knows.   She approaches him and says quietly, “Feel like stepping out on the balcony for a bit?”   He nods once and follows her out. Nobody else pays them any mind, too absorbed in their game; as he slides the glass door closed behind him, he hears Pike scream, “You fucking cheater, Scanlan!”   The air is cool and damp; Vex leans against the railing and sags heavily, finally allowing the tension she’s been carrying to hold its full weight. She looks exhausted. She doesn’t glance at him when she says, “We need to talk.”   “Yes.” Percy’s voice is almost lost among the clouds. “We do.”   “You saw it too,” she states, keeping her eyes trained on the flashing lights below. “How...how simple it was.”   “I did,” Percy says. “But for what it’s worth, I never thought this would be simple.”   She smiles without substance, like the skeleton of a feeling. “No?”   “Vex, look at me,” he points out tiredly, running a hand through his hair. “I come with a lot of baggage.”   “So do I.” She licks her lips, pausing. “I thought it was just me. When we started this. I thought it was just me.”   The silence settles over them; everything is muted from where they are, the colors, the bright lights, the honking horns. He curls his fingers around the railing and squeezes. “Maybe we should try to be honest with one another.” It’s an uncomfortable topic to bridge. He attempts a semblance of humor. “I know you saw right through me.”   “I recognized the patterns, yes,” she says.   “I’m barely hanging on,” he continues blithely, shutting down the part of his voice that conveys any depth to true emotion. It’s difficult enough as it is. “I’m being treated. I spent a lot of time being nothing, being everything, being whatever wasn’t me with this life. I’m working on it.”   “That’s a good start,” she says, and crooks her head towards him without meeting his eyes like a silent acceptance, “because I rather like you. The you underneath all of this. And I’m - I’ve had a long recovery. Having. A long recovery.”   “I almost died,” he drops point-blank.   Vex waits a moment, staring at the whiteness of Percy’s knuckles, the tensity of his muscles coiling like a spring beneath his skin. “I almost died,” she echoes back, the carefree shouting of her friends behind her like a sick soundtrack to the tragedy of their lives.   He turns toward her, suddenly releasing himself. “What?”   “Surely you don’t believe you’ve the monopoly on horror stories,” she says wryly, and he flushes.   “That’s not what I meant, of course,” he responds politely. “Near-death experiences are rare.”   She leans forward onto her elbows, hunched further over the railing. A year and a half ago, she might have thrown herself off of it. “I had a boyfriend,” she says, but the sound coats itself against her throat when she tries to explain further, like rubbing sand between her palms, coarse and raw.   He seems to understand just fine. “Oh,” he says quietly.   “I’m trying, too,” she says, and finally stands tall, facing him straight on. He isn’t surprised by the sudden feverishness, but proud, almost. “I’m this now because I couldn’t be for so long. I think it’s the truth. I want to believe I’m putting on the truth, but sometimes I remember what I was like, and I don’t know.”   “You aren’t what you were made into,” Percy says, as if he’s reading her thoughts and pulling out exactly the right words to tell her in response. “It’s possible to have spent as long as you did as someone perceived to be without strength, but that doesn’t mean you don’t possess it now, Vex’ahlia. Or even then.”   “How can you be so sure?” she asks, and the intensity lights up the space between them, the focal point of lightning. He reaches up and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, smiling kindly, and oh, yes, this is him, he’s here, finally making an appearance, Percy laying himself bare for her.   “You must have suffered a great deal and for a very long time,” he says plainly, softly. “Sometimes having the strength to survive is enough, even if you don’t have the strength to fight back.”   She feels a stinging in the corners of her eyes, the landscape suddenly swirling in front of her, lights blurry and out of focus. Her fingers are suddenly wrapped around the fabric of his sweater, clutching at his chest. “Yeah?”   “Let us agree that the nature of our shared experiences leaves us unable to lie to one another,” he continues, seemingly unconcerned about her desperate grasp on him. “I am seeing the truth of you. And I am telling you the truth. You are not as in conflict with yourself as you believe.”   I love you, she could say; she could say it now and somewhere in her heart she’d mean it, because Percy is right; the two of them recognize each other, buried deep underneath, like souls intertwined. I love you, she could say, but she doesn’t.   Neither of them realize the noise inside has quieted to a dull hum. His hand moves from her hair to her cheek, thumb wiping underneath her eye. She says, “You must know this doesn’t solely apply to me.” Her grip relaxes very slightly; she doesn’t want to ruin his sweater. “Being agreeable and polite and invisible until you have the opportunity to express emotion through someone else - I won’t patronize you as if you don’t know that isn’t healthy.” His mouth quirks into a sly grin at her accurate interpretation of his outward-facing persona. “You aren’t a ‘thing’ without feelings, Percy. You aren’t a tool to be used, or a vase, or any other lifeless, empty object. You’ve suffered a long time and a very great deal.”   He’s as intoxicated by her words as she is by his; it’s addicting, the truth, especially when it’s one you’ve been too afraid to believe yourself. He exhales slowly and leans in, not for a kiss but for support, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes are shut; she can feel his heart pounding. She murmurs, “I know how difficult it is to open yourself up again. To give yourself up to someone else. But I can handle it. You’re not a burden.”   “I’m afraid,” he breathes out, and God, they’re burning each other up with the thrill and novelty of understanding. “I’m afraid I’m - irrevocably damaged, or twisted. I don’t want to drag you into myself. I won’t do that to you.”   “That’s no way to heal,” she says, pulling back slightly to stare him in the eye. “Haven’t we established our inability to lie to one another? I have demons, too, and that means I can see yours for what they are, just as you see mine. Let me talk you out of them when needed. Let me scare them off.”   The look in his eyes is unbearably fond, but his voice wavers, uncertain and unused to the concept of hope. “And that’s not - that isn’t too much for you?”   The concrete balcony feels so firm beneath her feet she’s convinced she’s connected to the earth below, the dirt and mantle and core steadying her in place. She says, her spine straight, “It’s simpler to be strong for other people, don’t you agree?”   “I do,” he answers. His hands are now on her hips, the small of her back. They’re pressed together not out of want but out of necessity.   “We’ll find each other,” she says, low and tender. “We have to start somewhere.”   “I can start here,” Percy says, and presses a faint, delicate kiss to Vex’s forehead, before gathering her in his arms and holding her there.   --   (Keyleth smiles to herself, eyes downcast and averted. They’re all watching and pretending they aren’t. Vax, sitting at her side, doesn’t seem to know what to make of the display; she senses the war in him.   “Finally,” she says quietly, before he can make up his mind.   He glances over at her, corners of his mouth pulled down slightly, but the rest of his expression remains unguarded. “Is this a good thing?” he asks her bluntly. “She’s my sister. I need honesty.”   “I can’t speak for Vex,” Keyleth begins carefully, not wanting to set off any alarm bells, “but Percy’s...better than he used to be. When I first met him, he rarely even smiled, like he’d forgotten how. I mean - you’ve heard his story, right? So, I’m not gonna say that he isn’t without flaws, but I think…” she pauses to weigh her words in her mouth; tact isn’t something that comes naturally to her. “I think he could use someone else, you know? Someone who isn’t me. And someone exactly like her.”   Vax doesn’t answer her yet, still subtly watching them out on the balcony. It’s starting to rain and they’re both facing out at the city, buried in each other, unaware of the conversation taking place indoors. Keyleth tries, one last time, by saying, “I feel like...Vex can understand him. Understand what he’s been through. Or at least some of the - emotion, I guess, behind it.”   At that, Vax does look at her, eyebrows raised in a mild sort of surprise. “What makes you think that?”   Keyleth shrugs, unable to formulate a concrete example. “Am I wrong?” she asks instead.   Vax considers her for a moment, and then drops his head, as if he’s invaded a privacy for a little too long and is finally recognizing it. “No,” he says. “No, you’re not wrong.”   “Percy seems nice,” Pike adds, as if the rest of them have been given an entryway into the conversation. “He’s sad, but he’s nice. And, come on - when was the last time Vex has shown an interest in anyone? Let her have this.”   “Or do you not trust her judgment?” Scanlan adds, if not gracefully than at least purposefully.   Vax loosens up a little, taking into account his own motivations, and says, “I won’t deny that I’m wary of it, but…” He glances back to the girl next to him, beautiful and kind and good. “I trust you, Keyleth. I trust that you can see things objectively, for what they are.”   For some unknown reason, and one that endears her to him all the more, she blushes intensely at the compliment as if he’s just kissed her in a room full of prying eyes.)   --   They never notice that the shouting had stopped, because by the time Percy and Vex reenter, it’s started again. She’s wearing his sweater and her eyes are the faintest hint of red. Nobody comments on it, looking up as though they’d barely noticed the two were gone.   “Last game of the night,” Grog yells. “The two of you in, or what?”   Percy plops down on Keyleth’s other side, Vex beside him. “Deal us in,” he says. “I’m feeling lucky.”   --   They say goodbye the next day, later in the morning in the lobby, after a night of everybody once again sleeping in their own beds. Vax pulls Keyleth to him and she sinks into it because she doesn’t know how not to; whether she’s ready to face it or not, there’s something in her that longs for this, the closeness, the certainty.   Vex is again wearing his sweater; she smiles and winks flirtatiously up at him when he notices, and he rolls his eyes, feigning aloofness. He’s not getting it back, and he comes to terms with it quickly, more than enamored with the idea of Vex casually wearing his clothes.   They don’t hug. He stands in front of her, staring, overwhelmed with the events of the previous night, finding nothing left in him to say. She seems to understand wordlessly and reaches up, ruffling his hair with her hand like he’s an embarrassed young boy in need of validation, acceptance.   She says, “Hang in there, Percival. You’re doing great.”   It’s enough.   --   radiance against @thebriarwoods · 26m .@keylethoftheair are we all crazy or were you and percival hanging out with vox machina all weekend!?   Keyleth @keylethoftheair · 15m Replying to @thebriarwoods We were! They’ve been my favorite band since their debut and we finally got to see them play! We had such an awesome time!! Thanks @imvaxthatsvex @imvexthatsvax @themeatman @idliketorage @monstah Percival @percivalderolo · 12m Replying to @thebriarwoods @keylethoftheair and 5 others This is me officially tweeting my agreeance of the above statement   vax’ahlia @imvaxthatsvex · 10m Replying to @percivalderolo @keylethoftheair and 5 others percy, do u LIKE us? is that what ur saying??? u LIKE us??   vex’ildan @imvexthatsvax · 9m Replying to @imvaxthatsvex @percivalderolo and 5 others is that true percival? you like us? vax i think he liiiikes us…...   Percival @percivalderolo · 7m Replying to @imvexthatsvax @imvaxthatsvex and 5 others You’re both ridiculous. Obviously I only like Grog.   grog loves beer @idliketorage · 5m Replying to @percivalderolo @imvexthatsvax and 5 others rite answer mate   Burt Reynolds @themeatman · 2m Replying to @idliketorage @imvexthatsvax and 5 others hey   it’s me pike!!! @monstah · 2m Replying to @idliketorage @imvexthatsvax and 5 others Hey   Percival @percivalderolo · 33s Replying to @themeatman @monstah and 5 others You’re both great too.   it’s me pike!!! @monstah · 2s Replying to @percivalderolo @themeatman and 5 others Thnx!!! - from me n scanlan   --   Considering the paparazzi didn’t catch many pictures of them and they’d been seen with the entire band, not a lot of speculation arises from their initial meeting. But neither Percy nor Keyleth expect the silence to last - the twins aren’t exactly quiet about their interests; especially not Vax, who’d openly hand over his heart to Keyleth at any given moment, if only she were to ask him for it.   All Percy’s aware of on that topic is that whatever Keyleth-and-Vax are, it’s definitely something. They’re progressing, and though it may be slow, it’ll be forever when it happens. He can sense it in her, her heart unfolding like a flower. He knows she loves him, and Vax isn’t pushing her to go anywhere she isn’t ready to. Percy can’t think of anyone better for Keyleth, or anyone who cares as deeply for her.   He hears them, sometimes, through the walls of their shared apartment in Atlanta; Keyleth’s voice has taken on its own tone for Vax specifically, one so painfully tender he feels invasive just listening to it even without being able to make out the words.   (They like to sit on Hangouts or Facetime and just enjoy each other’s company. He’ll work on a song and she’ll practice lines. It’s nice, he says, not to feel so alone.   “You have a twin,” Keyleth points out, smiling.   “Well, that’s different,” he says. “You calm me. Like my soul’s been put at ease.”   Her cheeks burn pink and he doesn’t expand on the thought. She understands him just fine.)   Percy and Vex, on the other hand--   “I’m so fucking bored,” Vex complains to him over the phone; his cell is sitting on the counter on speaker as he cooks himself and Keyleth dinner. “I wish we could just fly everywhere rather than drive.”   “Why can’t you?” he asks, measuring out a teaspoon of salt, dumping it into the pot of water boiling on the stove.   “It’s not worth it,” she explains idly, rustling around on the other end. “With all of our equipment and shit - that’s saved for international tours. We’ll take a few flights here and there, depending on the distance, but it’s mostly driving.” She snickers suddenly. “I bet Keyleth would love it.”   Percy grins in response. “Most definitely,” he says, beginning to chop a tomato. “How much longer d’you have?”   “On this tour?” The rustling ceases; Percy imagines her still, biting her lip and thinking. “Two months. And you?”   Percy pauses for the briefest of moments, also attempting to calculate. “Three weeks on location - so into mid-May - and close to another month back home in the studio.”   Vex hums. “I’ve been thinking...as we’re in Atlanta next week, any chance you can give your biggest fans a set tour?”   He laughs at the sly edge of her voice, like she’s fooling him somehow, or being particularly clever. “I’ll see what I can do.”   “Lovely, darling, thank you.”   He sighs at the smugness lining her tone. “Oh,” he says mildly, dumping the cut tomatoes in a bowl, “as if I could ever refuse you.”   --   Filming is unpredictable, and so is traffic, so the band doesn’t get to set until late afternoon when they’re well into a scene. Percy relieves a poor, intimidated intern of them at the entrance to the soundstage and leads them quietly to where the assistant director is sitting under what looks like a type of tent, two large screens in front her, and on them--   “Woah,” Grog whispers, pointing. “Look at Keyleth. She looks awesome.”   Keyleth is towards the right of the shot, standing in what looks like a kind of dungeon, or a castle, and she’s stunning. Otherworldly. She’s wearing a green, loosely-fitting dress that appears as if she created it from the forest itself, a gorgeous mantle over her shoulders that unfolds into almost a cloak of leaves, and a circlet on which a pair of antlers seem to sprout from. She’s carrying a staff and laughing at something with an older, sickly looking woman next to her as a man fixes her make-up.   “My, my,” Vex says, examining Percy’s getup - he’s in a royal blue coat with some sort of puffy necktie and a vest over a white button-down shirt with slacks, and very nice boots. “Don’t you look dashing.”   “We’re between shots,” Percy says, rolling his eyes. “They’re getting one last angle on her and then she’ll have a moment to greet you while they set up the next scene. She’s actually just past the tent, here. If you take a quick glance around, you can see her - but it may be best if she’s not aware you’re here yet.”   “Cool,” Pike says, enthralled, clutching onto Grog’s arm. “Percy, dude, this is amazing, thank you so much--”   “Of course,” he says, smiling kindly at her, and then a hush falls over the set.   “Ladies,” they hear the director call in a thick English accent, “let’s pull ourselves together. Nearly there, nearly there. Marks, please.” Keyleth reigns it in, and they’re content to watch her on the screen in front of them. “And...action!”   Her face contorts, vicious, angry, terrifying; it’s an expression none of them, aside from Percy, have ever seen on her before and not one she would wear naturally. Her muscles flex under her skin, pulled taut, a snake ready to strike. The older woman is circling around her slowly, a cruel curve to her smile and a deadly look in her eyes.   “...Pathetic,” the woman whispers bitterly. “All this trouble and not a thing to show for it. You wouldn’t have even gotten this far if not for your...remarkable friend. Is this the truth of you, my darling? That you are a weak and powerless thing who only knows how to endanger the lives of those who help her?”   “Enough,” Keyleth says, low and dangerous, sounding nothing like herself. Vex shivers, trained on the woman, her dialogue echoing around Vex’s skull in someone else’s voice.   “You’re nothing.” The words ring in the air; it’s as if a chill moves swiftly through the set. “You’ve come to me with no help, no resources, no convincing arguments. You lack even words in this moment, and it is profoundly embarrassing. You’re a dishonor to yourself, and to those who died for you.” The woman curls her mouth hideously, pulling at her skin. “At least allow me to repay them by forcing you to suffer the way they did - slowly, without grace, without dignity. Let them hear you scream, like the others before you. Like your own mother.”   “I will not die,” Keyleth hisses, flooding her veins with fire, and suddenly they’re struck with the sense that Keyleth’s character has hit her breaking point. “Repay them, yes, I will - but not with my blood. With yours!”   And her hands whips out with more agility than they’d thought possible from her, wrapping around the woman’s throat, and hoisting her into the air, one-handed.   Percy quickly and quietly claps a hand over Grog’s mouth to stop his exclamation, as he hadn’t realized the other woman was on wires. Keyleth looks as if she’s exerting a tremendous amount of force, which they know cannot be true, but that’s the magic of cinema, Vex thinks, entranced by the display.   “Your girlfriend is way cooler than you,” she leans over and whispers in Vax’s ear, trying to ignore the ghosts. He smacks her away, but he’s smiling.   --   Keyleth almost stabs him with her antlers, which a crew member then pries off of her in a panic, fearful of the potential lawsuit.     “Sorry, sorry!” she says again, inspecting him for damage. “God, I was just so excited to see you, I’m so sorry, I always forget they’re basically weapons--”   “You could’ve killed him,” Scanlan says dramatically, and Vax snorts loudly.   “Kiki, it’s fine, honestly,” he tells her, taking her hand before it can reach him again. “You didn’t even scratch me. No harm done.”   She smiles brightly, allowing their joined hands to come to rest. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says, and then shifts her gaze to each of them. “All of you.”   “Are you?” Percy asks dryly upon his return from craft services, handing Vex a plate of grapes and cheese. “You won’t be after the news I just received.”   The party turns to look at him; Vex raises an eyebrow, the grapes in her mouth making her look like a chipmunk with half a full cheek. Keyleth blinks owlishly. “What?”   “Change of order, to put it lightly,” Percy says. “We’re filming the scene near the end where - erm, where you...overdo it?” He’s trying not to give it away. “Where I have to step in and help you. We were supposed to start tomorrow with it, but the weather forecast isn’t great.”   She stares at him for half a second longer before it clicks, and then her skin flushes bright red as if she’s boiling herself in water. She glances back to Vax and squeaks out, “Well, thanks for visiting!”   “Keyleth, Percival!” a voice calls. “Ten minutes!”   Percy grins devilishly. Keyleth is now the color of a sunburn.   “Well, obviously, we have to stay,” Grog points out logically, “because she wants us to leave so badly. Means it must be good, right?”   “Are you guys gonna fuck or something?” Scanlan asks bluntly. “I’m pretty sure that storyline wasn’t set up very well in the first one, if so.”   Percy actually laughs, and it’s genuine, unashamed and free. “No, no, we’re not going that far.”   “‘That far’...” the twins quote at the same time, staring between them ominously.   “Um,” Keyleth says, and then turns and runs away as fast she can in costume.   Percy only snickers harder, and says, “Go ahead and stick around. Once it starts, it won’t matter, anyway. She’s a professional.”   --   (So, Percy and Keyleth have to kiss.   Vex is nearly on the floor in hysterics; Vax is torn between utter amusement and a weird fit of jealousy. Vex, who’s never kissed Percy, has nothing to be jealous of, something she doesn’t mind rubbing in.   “I don’t know what I’m missing out on, you see?” she says, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I can truly enjoy this moment. Oh, I can’t wait.”   “You’ll probably be dating him by the time this film comes out,” Vax says snidely, not willing to lose this one. “And then you’ll go the premiere and watch them kiss in high definition and surround sound. We’ll see who’s laughing then.”   Vex stops, staring off into the distance with an expression equal parts disgust, fear, apprehension, and longing.   “Yeah,” Vax says. “That’s what I thought.”)   --   It’s not actually that bad - it isn’t a romantic kiss; it’s a desperate one. Keyleth’s character is on the brink of destroying herself in order to bring about justice, or revenge, and she doesn’t care if she survives or not - misguided and grieving, she imagines herself to be just as bad as her enemies. But Percy’s character can see through the smoke and mirrors, the manipulation and ego, and when reason and logic and every other call to her soul fails, he kisses her.   It’s quite beautiful, and Pike and Grog find themselves oddly emotional even without full context; they keep patting each other and wiping their eyes.   The band watches the two of them really act for this, not behind the tent through the screens. In-person, they’re even more stunning and gripping, their transformations almost unbelievable to witness.   Vex has never seen this much unbridled emotion from Percy since she’s known him, and she recognizes again how spot-on her own interpretation of him had been. This is his outlet for feeling, for everything he can’t bear to keep within himself.   “I know you,” he’s saying. “You’ll trust her over me? At the end of everything, you won’t even allow yourself the final courtesy of believing a single thing I say about you? After what we’ve done for each other, after all this time and torture--”   “You want me to live,” Keyleth says in response, lost and heartbroken. “That’s your priority, but it isn’t mine - I won’t sacrifice anyone else! Let it end with me! Please, let it end with me!”   Whatever’s happening will be inserted as a special effect, but Keyleth mimes some exertion of power, and suddenly they watch one of Percy’s hands tangle in her hair and the other wrap around her waist, and he’s pulling her in close, pressing his lips desperately and painfully against hers. After a moment of her still and unmoving, her arms fall slowly and her fingers curl around his shoulders, and when he releases her his tears glimmer in the light.   “It won’t end with you,” he murmurs. “I won’t let you do this. I’ll die with you before I allow this to happen. This blood is not on your hands. Don’t spill your own.”   “Cut! We’ll cut there,” the director shouts, and walks over to give the two of them a few notes.   There’s a loud noise, a bit like a cross between a sneeze and a cannon. “You really are twins,” Grog guffaws at Vax and Vex, standing there with identical expressions of bafflement on their faces, their mouths hanging open. Percy and Keyleth are now laughing at a joke their make-up artist has cracked, as if the emotion of the scene was nothing but a quick interruption of their normal dynamic.   “I’m feeling like,” Vax begins, “I want to kiss Keyleth.”   “I’m feeling like I want you to shut up,” Vex responds stupidly, still dazed.   Percy finds her eyes and winks.   --   (Percy and Keyleth have to do multiple takes of it before they’re granted enough of a break to give the band a proper tour, but Vex and Vax decide once is enough, and hole themselves up in Keyleth’s trailer until they’re finished with it. Vax sits on the couch and doesn’t pry, but Vex pokes around, oddly charmed by the decoration. Keyleth’s got a windowsill of succulents and various gifts from fans plastered to her mirror, and in between, snapshots of her and with the people important to her - there’s a strip from a photobooth of her and Percy making ridiculous faces; another of them on set during their first film; one of Keyleth as a child and a woman who is most definitely her mother; and, dead center on the vanity, two distinct pictures side-by-side: her and Percy with the whole band from their trip to New York, and what looks like a selfie she’d taken with Vax, slightly blurry and out of focus, but the laughter on their faces genuine and real.   Vex smiles as she picks up the photo, and turns around, extending it to Vax.   “I think you’re doing just fine, brother,” she says as he stares at it in awe.)   --   They all end up at a local bar afterward, drinking and eating greasy pub food and relaxing in a private booth in the back. It’s more about enjoying each other’s company than getting drunk for once, considering he and Keyleth do have to show up to work tomorrow and do their jobs properly. They cycle through a few options as to what to do for the rest of the evening - Scanlan suggests bowling, but it’s hard for Grog to entertain ideas that aren’t all-out wild - when Pike catches Vex’s eye and grins, clearing her throat.   “Actually, Scanlan and Grog and I are gonna join Gilmore barhopping,” she says, lying through her teeth, though only Vex can tell. Grog pumps a fist. “So if the two of you wanna go hang out with Keyleth and Percy, you totally should.”   Scanlan seems to catch on to her game pretty quickly. “Yeah, definitely. We’d like to take advantage of our one completely free night while we’re here.”   Vex shrugs. “Be our guest,” she says, and then cocks her head at Percy. “Is that alright with you, oh gracious hosts?”   “Yes, of course!” Keyleth responds a little too quickly, fingers clutching at her bottle. “We can - watch a movie, or something.”   And that’s what they do. Well, sort of.   They make it through half a movie - some old, black-and-white classic that ends up mostly as background noise - before Vex falls fast asleep, curled up against Percy’s side, his arm over her shoulders. It doesn’t take him much longer to follow her there, dozing off underneath Vex’s weight and a blanket, and Keyleth quietly tugs Vax into her bedroom, seemingly ignorant of the implications.   “Let’s let them be,” she murmurs, shutting her door as gently as she can. “They’re obviously tired.”   Vax wastes no time making himself at home. He kicks off his shoes and sprawls across her bed, picking up a stuffed white tiger and examining it. “He doesn’t sleep with people often, does he?”   “Uh, is he supposed to?” She’s slightly confused at the question, quirking an eyebrow as she sits down next him, leaning back against the pillows. “Do you?”   Vax laughs, tossing the animal up in the air and catching it. “I meant literally. I have a twin sister and a tour bus, so we’ve shared a bed more often than not. But I didn’t peg him as a guy who’d easily do something as vulnerable as sleeping beside someone.”   “Oh, I see,” she says, resting the side of her head in her hand. “No, he doesn’t. He’s not really the type to let his guard down like that. So, I figured...”   “Ah.” It’s not an interesting revelation and so Vax doesn’t pursue it further. “And what about you?”   “Me?” She’s apparently startled that he even has to ask. “I’m an open book, aren’t I?”   “Sometimes,” he answers truthfully, looking at her, cheek pressed against her moss-green comforter. “Mostly. But I think everyone has something they’re trying to protect themselves from.”   She picks at a loose thread on one of her pillows, eyes averted down. “So what’s yours?”   He thinks about saying rejection, which is true, but he assumes that’s true for almost everybody. He thinks of Vex and Percy in the other room, wrapped around each other innocently, holding their demons at bay. He thinks of Vex at peace.   And then he thinks of Vex, four, three, two years ago; flinching at a touch like a burn, eyes hollow in her skull, looking more like a girl in a graveyard than a rock show. He thinks of bruises and emptiness and the faint foreboding of home. How she got to the point where it hurt so much it stopped feeling like pain at all, and then she was nothing.   “Change,” he says instead, unable to be anything but brutally, achingly honest. He hears the beeping of hospital equipment like the beating of his own heart. “The unknown, I guess. The future. The things I can’t see.”   It’s not the answer Keyleth is expecting, and she tilts her chin down, examining him. “In what way?” She can’t stop herself from asking.   He cradles the words in his mouth before spilling them out; he doesn’t want to pour out all of Vex’s secrets, but it’s him, too. There are parts that are his and he needs to talk about them.   “I don’t know how much you know, if anything,” he says. “De Rolo seems like he’s...good at playing his cards close to the vest. Like he wouldn’t betray her, if she had told him, and I know she has. I can tell how much of herself she’s investing in him.”   Keyleth doesn’t interrupt, but her facial expressions are simple enough to read; she half-smiles, bemused and sad, but he’d judged Percy’s character correctly and she appreciates it. He continues, “Vex was in a - a pretty terrible situation a few years ago. With a man. He...took advantage of her insecurities. He’d pick out all of the horrible things she thought about herself, and validate them to her rather than relieving her of them. He abused her. It was...bad. It was really bad.”   “Vax…” Keyleth exhales, the quiet acknowledgment breaking him down.   “I didn’t know,” he confesses, and his eyes sting sharply. “I didn’t know she thought these things about herself. I knew something was wrong, but she’s such a good liar, and she’s so...she didn’t want me to worry about her. She’s good at keeping people out. She thought it would get better, or that she’d one day work up the courage to leave him.”   “But she didn’t,” Keyleth infers softly. Her hands are now covering Vax’s own, resting gently on his chest.   “She didn’t,” he says. “He almost killed her, and all I could think about was that I should’ve known. I let her down. I left her alone.” She strokes her thumb with his, allowing him to let it all out before speaking. “I’m afraid that - she’s finally better, Keyleth. She’s someone I recognize again. And I don’t want to lose her, not now, not ever.”   Keyleth carefully bends down and presses a kiss to the back of their joined hands. She says, “The fact that you’re so terrified of it proves that you wouldn’t let it happen again, even if it were an option.” She pauses, rolling over sentences as she constructs them. “I think that makes you brave, Vax. People can’t - always admit their own faults, or places they may have gone wrong. Protecting someone...isn’t as easy as it seems. But I also think it makes you stupid.”   He’s so caught off-guard by the insult that he nearly laughs; she blushes, struggling to rectify the statement. “You know it wasn’t your fault,” she clarifies, and the redness in her cheeks fades fast. “You’re carrying this burden alone. She didn’t place it upon you.”   “I don’t know that,” he denies, staring at the ceiling, the brief amusement falling away. “Maybe part of it was, and I hurt her. Maybe my obliviousness almost got her killed. What if there are things I just don’t see? Does it then matter if it’s accidental or not? What if I hurt you next?”   She’s silent for awhile, pondering him, her grip on his hands loose and comforting. After a moment, she says, “That’s mine, by the way.”   “Your what?”   “What I’m trying to protect myself from,” she says, and pulls her arm back. “You hurting me.”   He tilts his head towards her, shocked, heart dissecting itself horizontally. “Do you truly believe I would?” he asks, refusing to accept the confirmation she’s giving him. “That I’m capable of it?”   She smiles kindly down at him, but it’s wistful somehow, morose and tender. “No,” she answers softly. “But you do, and I think that’s probably the same thing.”   --   When Vex groggily opens her eyes, it’s because there’s an infomercial playing at a much louder volume than the film they’d apparently dozed off watching. She blindly reaches for the remote without fully waking up and finds the correct buttons in the dim light until it’s a gentle hum, and then she leans back against whatever she’d comfortably been sleeping on, which happens to be--   Percy. Percy with his arm around her, feet kicked up on the coffee table, glasses set aside, peaceful and dreamless. Percy blissfully handing her casual affection without consequence, like it’s simple, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to give yourself up to someone. She doubts he even thought twice about it. She was there and she needed him and so he stayed.   She leans forward carefully and presses a delicate kiss to his cheek, not wanting to disturb him; she shifts to resume her previous position, but his hand moves, lightly rubbing her lower back. His head tilts to the other side, facing her, though his eyes stay shut.   He murmurs, “Vex’ahlia.” His voice is rough from sleep, but he lifts his arm again, allowing her the room she needs to huddle herself closer to him. She’s struck with the sudden urge to cry without fully understanding why. He squints at her when she doesn’t move, a small smile on his face. “It’s okay,” he says. “Come here.”   It’s almost as if something cracks open in her soul that she’d been holding back a long, long time; she sinks into him like pouring water, her fingers curling over his shoulder, her face buried in the crook of his neck. He doesn’t speak, just loops both his arms around her and holds her tighter as if to stop her from breaking apart in his hands.   --   (The apartment is quiet when Keyleth rolls out of bed to grab a glass of water, interrupted only by Vax’s deep, even breathing and the faint buzz of the television in the living room. She makes a motion to turn it off when she realizes Percy and Vex are still there, stretched out across the couch and tangled up together. They’re facing each other; his arm is thrown around her waist and she has her forehead pressed against his chest, and it’s too close, too intimate. Keyleth has to force herself to look away.)   --   Percy’s alarm vibrates somewhere underneath his hip early the next morning, but what actually wakes him is Vex’s muffled voice against his collarbone saying, “Turn that fucking thing off, Percival.”   “You do it,” he finds himself answering, still clinging on to the edges sleep. “Your hand’s closer.”   She harrumphs in her throat, but he feels her fingers digging into his thigh as she slides his phone out from underneath him, dropping it between their bodies. He blindly gropes for it as Vex resumes her rest, clearly too comfortable to let anything disturb her.   He squints at his messages; he makes out delayed call time due to weather and sighs contentedly, switching over his alarm and tossing it onto the coffee table. He’s slightly more awake, and Vex is still here, aware of their position and enjoying it; he lowers his arm back to where it’d been resting across her waist previously and pulls her impossibly closer. She makes a small noise of surprise but doesn’t move away; she merely readjusts her head and throws a leg over his hip, and he notices--   She seems to come to the same realization, because he feels her lips curve up into a grin where her cheek is resting against his shoulder.   He heads her off at the pass, too exhausted to care. “You can fuck right off if you’re about to laugh.”   She does anyway, prompted by his remark; it’s a sweet, tired sort of giggle without any weight behind it. “Well,” she says, “you are a man, and I am extremely attractive.”   “I’m sure it was the combination of those two things, of course,” he replies dryly. “Your perception remains unmatched.”   She laughs again, and her hand crawls upward, fingers resting gently against the side of his neck. “Another day, I’ll take advantage of it.”   “I look forward to it,” he says, smiling despite himself and the oddity of their circumstances. He feels her adjust her head against his arm, tilting up her chin to look at him, and he opens one eye, blinking blearily at her.   She’s smiling, and the tips of her fingers are dancing against his skin, and in another life, he is sure he is already doing this forever.   “Yes?” he probes, his stare unbearably soft, his tone too gentle, too open and familiar.   Vex runs the pad of her thumb across his bottom lip, biting her own without realizing it, an automatic desire. She murmurs, “You know I do, don’t you?” and her glance drops to his mouth and back. “You know I want you.”   Percy understands the confession for what it is: a validation rather than an invitation, a place for discussion instead of action. It wouldn’t be a good idea - not now, not yet - but it’s still the truth.   “Our call time was pushed,” he says in lieu of a direct response. “I’ve a few more hours. Spend them with me.”   “Here?” she asks coyly. “On your couch? Don’t you own a bed, Percival?”   “I do,” he says, shutting his eyes and resting his cheek against the top of her head, his hand running up and down her spine. “However, I’m lacking in the self-control your brother and Keyleth no doubt possess. And if this conversation has been any indication, I’m sure you are, as well.”   Her body vibrates in a silent laugh, movements becoming laggier, and he recognizes the signs of exhaustion overtaking her once again. He drifts away idly imagining what it’d be like to control his dreams, and that if he could, he’d dream about her now, exactly like this, and no shadows would be lurking in the background.   --   (And, well, Percy’s not wrong.   On the other side of the wall, Vax has stuck diligently to his allotted side of the bed and Keyleth to hers, bodies a respectable distance apart, comfortable to coexist.   But somewhere along the duration of the night, they’d found each other’s hands and they hadn’t let go.)   --   They’re lazing around backstage while the tech team does the soundcheck for the night’s show; Vex keeps yawning, and Pike finally takes pity on her and gives her the rest of her cappuccino.   “Long night?” she asks slyly, wiggling one eyebrow repeatedly up and down.   Vex rolls her eyes. “Not in the way you’re imagining.”   “Really?” Pike says disbelievingly, leaning back against the wall, crew members passing around them like they’re invisible. “Okay, spill, Vex. Don’t tell me he rejected you or something.”   She laughs, because it’s the furthest thing from the truth. “No,” she says. “It’s - it’s both of us, but it’s me.”   “Spit it out.”   Vex focuses on the bass line thrumming through the floor; somewhere on stage, Scanlan’s shredding out notes and Grog’s hammering away on the drums and Vax’s voice is echoing lowly through the microphone, singing about ghosts. But there’s another memory, one of a hand around her throat and a smile too cold and cruel and vicious to ever have meant love; she closes her eyes sees those beige walls, those linoleum floors and fluorescent lights, and sometimes her bones still feel as heavy as they did then, too broken and bruised to move.   Giving up all pretense, she says, “I don’t want to fuck him and hate myself.” The words are harsher and more blunt than she intends, but she pushes on; Pike’s always been someone to listen without judgment, without fault or flaw. “I don’t want to be afraid, and I don’t want to be...somewhere else. I want to be with him. And I want to remember what it’s like when it’s about someone else, you know? Not just - me using people to remind myself I still exist, and that I am wanted. That I didn’t die.”   “I get it,” Pike says, because she always does. She lays a comforting hand on Vex’s knee. “You don’t want to be in your head. And I’m sure Percy has that concern, too.”   “Yeah,” Vex says, willing herself not to cry again; she’s been doing too much of that lately. “I could’ve had him so long ago if I’d wanted. But it wouldn’t have been real. I would’ve hurt him and I don’t think - I don’t think I could’ve come back from that.”   “Because you would’ve been proving Saundor right,” Pike infers quietly, and takes Vex’s fingers in hers instead. “Oh, honey.”   Vex tilts her head back, resting against the wall. “Yeah,” she sighs out. Grog yells from somewhere around the corner, and then there’s a loud clatter; Scanlan laughs as Vax erupts in curses.   “But you didn’t,” Pike points out, ignoring the commotion. “You didn’t hurt Percy. You’ve done exactly the opposite, so far, actually. Anyone can see that he adores you, Vex; you make him so happy. By the time this weekend is over, I’ll bet the blogs will be going insane over the two of you. I know Keyleth already tweeted about us all hanging out again, so, I mean, it’s only a matter of time.”   Vex can’t stop the smile that unfolds as Pike rambles. “Fans are that perceptive, are they?”   “Oh, yeah,” she says, “but that wasn’t going to be my point. My point is that you make him happy, and you’re trying to protect him, and protect yourself. And even back then, you were trying to protect us. That makes you nothing like Saundor said you were, Vex. Nothing.”   “I’m really trying not to cry,” Vex says, her throat tighter with every breath, “but thank you, Pike.”   “Anytime,” she says, and the world pauses its rotation for a moment, giving Vex the time she needs to catch up.   --   (By some unspoken agreement, Vex and Vax take up residence in Percy and Keyleth’s apartment over the weekend. It’s strange, two couples who aren’t couples but should be casually sharing space; it’s not as if they aren’t all aware of each other’s shortcomings, either. Keyleth never comments on the fact that Vex and Percy refuse to use his bedroom, and likewise, no remarks are ever directed at her and Vax for deciding to use hers.   Vax hears Vex’s laughter through the wall and feels her heart is safe. Vex notices he stands taller than he used to, and there is no sadness to his smile.)   --   Pike, to nobody’s surprise, turns out to be right.   Percy and Keyleth coming to a second show and a third show back-to-back cements suspicion; i know its keyleths fav band but nobody likes a band that much, Keyleth reads aloud from her indirects, i think something’s going on with someone.   gianna loves you @gunslingers · 3h Replying to @suntree who do u think tho? have they been seen in pairs at all or should we start just taking bets. i mean i agree like 2 nights in a row...verrrry fishy   aya @suntree · 3h Replying to @gunslingers well pike & grog & scanlan were out w/gilmore thurs night -sans twins. so im thinking one of them ?   jj @voxexmachina · 3h Replying to @gunslingers @suntree Omg wait yall this needs to be investigated further,,,this is so legit. Are there pics from Thurs w/out the twins?   aya @suntree · 3h Replying to @voxexmachina @gunslingers yeah! someone posted the pics on tumblr here:   teresa 2.0  @strongjawale · 3h Replying to @gunslingers @suntree @voxexmachina well the twins are bi so the possibilities are truly endless here if it is indeed one of them...i’m ngl i’d be hella into percival and vax   back on my bullshit @vexxxed · 2h Replying to @strongjawale @gunslingers @suntree and 1 other I JUST DEADASS HAD A HEART ATTACK AT THE IDEA OF VEX AND KEYLETH ASDDSLGKDSGLJL   aya @suntree · 2h Replying to @vexxxed @strongjawale @gunslingers and 1 other asfkghsfdl percival is straight im p sure...my moneys on him and vex tbh. keyleth just seems too clueless (in a cute way)   jj @voxexmachina · 2h Replying to @suntree @vexxxed @strongjawale and 1 other Idk, Id be into Keyleth/Vax, theyre a whole midnight vs sunlight aesthetic just waiting to happen   the legend of tara @scarenrae · 2h Replying to @voxexmachina @suntree @vexxxed and 2 others thanks j, now i gotta go make that shit immediately.   It continues on like that for awhile, and Keyleth only stops because Grog almost pisses himself laughing at the idea of Percy and Vax in a relationship, to which Vax response by draping himself across Percy’s back with his arms around his neck and kissing his cheek loudly.   Scanlan says, “Can’t wait to see your aesthetics.”   “Oh, young love,” Pike adds.   Grog bends down and whispers, “What’s an ascetic?”   --   Moving on from Atlanta is harder for the twins than their brief respite in New York had been; not because of the novelty of New York, but because of the familiarity of home in Atlanta. Percy and Keyleth’s apartment had been the furthest thing from a tour bus or a hotel room, full of warmth and light and people who wanted them to be there.   But something in Vax which was once closed has now opened, and he can’t wait for it any longer. He refuses to sacrifice anything else, or anyone else. He pulls Vex off to the side one evening when they’ve stopped to refuel and he’s unsteady, as if he’s aching to talk to her but desperately terrified of her answers; he grips one of her hands in his, and she recognizes that the touch means something to him.   He says, “I love Keyleth.”   “I’m aware,” Vex says, obviously bewildered but indulgent. “I remember it well, as I was there when you told her.”   “I love her,” Vax says again, holding Vex’s hand against his chest, over his heart. “I love her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you, or that I won’t be there for you whenever you need me.”   “I know that,” Vex laughs, rolling her eyes at his dramaticism. “You’re my darling brother. I get it.”   “No,” he says, clutching her tighter. “No, I really mean it. You can...tell me, when things happen to you. I want to be someone you come to. Someone who listens to you.”   Vex takes in his sweet, sad eyes; his earnestness, the masked despair underneath his words. She thinks of him sleeping in a chair next to her bed for a week straight, and every time before that she’d said I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine. And she understands.   She pulls him in close to her, her arms around his shoulders, chin against the crook of his neck. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, feeling him hug her back slowly, uncertain. “You know - you know I’ve never blamed you, right?”   He shakes harder in her embrace, and oh, no, he’s never realized that, this stupid fool of a man whom she adores more than her own life; even if she doesn’t blame him, he blames himself. Her ribs feel like they’ve split open, cracking against the way she has to suddenly stop herself from choking on her breath. How could she never have realized, how could she not have thought-- “Vax, my God - no, you bloody idiot, what happened to me was not your fault! There was nothing you could’ve done--”   “I could’ve gotten you out of there,” he whispers, his voice barely hanging on. “I knew you were lying to me, but I didn’t--”   “You couldn’t have,” she says firmly, “because I wouldn’t have listened to you, even if you were sitting in front of me showing me the evidence. Vax, it wasn’t my fault, and it wasn’t your fault; it was him. I...I believed certain things for so long that you could’ve done whatever you wanted and it wouldn’t have been enough. I needed more. I needed an army, and by the time I ended up where I did, that’s what I had.” She rubs her hands comfortingly up and down his back. “I know Grog and Pike stopped him from getting within a hundred feet of my hospital room and threatened to beat him fifty times worse if he tried. I know Scanlan was the one who looked into the restraining order and legal proceedings. And I know you sat at my side every single day until I’d healed, and I know you haven’t left since.”   He’s openly weeping into her shoulder, finally unburdened, relieved, and so, so devastated for her, for everything she lost and found again. “I love you,” he says through tears. “I love you so, so much, and I can’t live without you.”   “You don’t have to,” she says, pulling away and taking his face between her palms, meeting his eyes. “I’ll be here. Forever. Okay?”   He holds her gaze a moment longer, attempting to steady himself. “Okay,” he says at last.   “Good,” she says, “because now you can pursue the woman you’re actually in love with guiltlessly, which is what I want for you. I want you to be happy, Vax, and I refuse to be the thing that holds you back from that.” She takes in a breath, blinking solidly, blocking out the world for a second as she finds the words for her own confession. “Look. I’m - I’m changing, too. I’m trying to. And I think we both need to - trust ourselves, for once. Trust that we’re doing what’s right for us, even if it’s in different directions. We can find each other, no matter what.”   Vax observes her briefly, his mouth pulling into the barest hint of a smile. “He’s good for you, isn’t he,” he says plainly, almost looking proud of her. “I know you’re good for him. Why haven’t you told him yet?”   Vex bites the inside of her own lip, taken aback by the sudden shift in attention, and resists the automatic urge to deflect her emotion. “He is,” she says honestly. “And I haven’t...found the words. Maybe I need to sing about it,” she tacks on as a weak attempt at a joke, but he raises his eyebrows, contemplating.   “Maybe you do,” he says finally, and drops his eyes with a smile. “Maybe we both do.”   --   (We have things to say to each other, he tells her. We have things to say to them. So let’s say them the way we know how. Sit down with me.   Pike ushers Grog and Scanlan to the back of the bus, recognizing the importance of the moment building between them. Vax pulls out a notepad and two pens and sets them on the table while Vex gazes aimlessly out the window, her fingers moving idly across her guitar strings, searching for herself, for what she wants and how to achieve it.   What are you trying to stop? Vax asks, scribbling in the margins. What are we changing from?   Lying, Vex says, because it’s the first thing that comes to mind. I’m trying to be more like me, and less like someone I was made into.   I’m trying that, too, Vax says, which surprises her. I don’t want to have doubts. About you, about myself.   Vex grabs the pen and writes out, I’m giving up this whole lie, and this whole me.   There, she says. That’s what I’m doing.   Vax furrows his brow, and in a different handwriting, Call it out like a family appears below it, but he doesn’t stop - instead I bide my time, get a ride, until the - he crosses out a few things; she sees ‘tires’ struck out, screech - and then: until the rubber leaves the road.   Vex doesn’t know how to follow that, and says, Okay, now what are we telling them.   That I’m determined not to make the same mistakes I’ve made before, Vax says immediately. That I won’t blame myself for the actions of others. But that sounds stupid, and shallow. It’s more like...she’s my intention. Does that make sense? She is, you are. It’s not like something meaningless I can break.   No, I understand, Vex says. It has weight.   She writes out words. Drive, motivation, determination, intention. None of them are right. Resolution.   Yes, Vax says, tilting his head. That’s it. Because it’s us, you know, it’s a promise to ourselves and to them.   Okay, Vex says, scrawling out you’ll be my resolution. I think we’ve got something here. Hold on. We can work with this theme.   They take turns scribbling down whatever comes to mind along the same lines - one verse has the both of them mirroring each other, with Vex writing, You said don’t lie so I made the truth / seem like a lie to even you and Vax adding after Control your fear, it’s clear / that you do not know where you’re going to.   Vex’s most honest verse comes because Keyleth and Percy text them around one in the morning, finally wrapping up their workday; they tend to stay focused during filming, but when they get home to relax, their minds wander, and the twins’ phones end up simultaneously going off more often than not. Keyleth texts Vax “miss you” and Vax takes a moment to just stare at her picture, and Percy’s message to Vex is simply “Wanted to say goodnight, apologies if I’ve woken you.”   Fuck, she breathes out, and Vax drops his forehead to the table. It’s torture, she says.   One month down and it’s in sight / oh I’m guaranteed to lose my mind It’s dangerous to speak and sigh / you might know what I’m trying to hide   Vax doesn’t laugh. It’s hard, wanting someone and not being able to have them, but not because the love isn’t there.   It takes them another two hours to finish the lyrics, and they come up with a bare melody born purely from Vex’s idle plucking. They decide it needs to feel like them, and not like the persona they put on; it needs to be vulnerable because it is.   In the morning, Pike finds the notepad still lying on the table, covered in doodles and scratched out words and a random game of hangman, “resolution” written at the top. She reads it - she figures they’ll get to anyway, considering they’ll be playing it - and is surprised to feel herself almost moved to tears by it. It’s deeply personal, and for once, it’s not angry or bitter or careless, or even rough around the edges like many of their songs are; it’s a mark of something new. She traces over the ink of the last lines.   I’m not you, nor you me but we’re both moving steady.)   --   vex’ildan @imvexthatsvax · 16m https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZaKMZ82mp4...   the legend of tara @scarenrae · 11m y’all it’s totally vex. listen to the song she posted ______________________ vex’ildan @imvexthatsvax https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZaKMZ82mp4... Keyleth Retweeted vex’ildan @imvexthatsvax · 17m https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZaKMZ82mp4...   the legend of tara @scarenrae · 5m Replying to @imvexthatsvax @keylethoftheair FUCK !!!!!   --   FROM: Percy Interesting song choice.   TO: Percy do you have tweet alerts turned on for me?   FROM: Percy Obviously.   TO: Percy good. ;)   TO: Percy so any response?   FROM: Percy Musically? Perhaps. But it’ll have to wait.   FROM: Percy Plus, Keyleth retweeted it, so now twitter thinks you’re dating each other.   TO: Percy oh, balls.   FROM: Percy Her exact words were “ugh, she just so gets me.”   TO: Percy that’s the last time i try and sneakily reveal my feelings through music to you.   --   2:45 AM FROM: Percy It’s true.   --   A few weeks later, Percy and Keyleth are finally home.   Keyleth’s first priority is watering her own plants, and then heading straight to Percy’s to tend to his. She’s almost frantic about it, carrying a misplaced sense of guilt for ‘leaving them alone so long,’ despite having had someone care for them the entire time they’d been away.   The band is somewhere in the south, but they perform on a late-night talk show that’s employing one those travel the country sets where they host in a variety of American cities as a publicity stunt, and an opportunity for fans who don’t have the money to travel themselves. Keyleth and Percy originally don’t think they’re able to be home in time to watch due to the time difference, but a stroke of luck has them on Percy’s couch fifteen minutes before it airs, eating white cheddar cheese puffs and drinking wine, because they’re adults, for fuck’s sake.   The band looks even better than they sound, which is really saying something, because they sound incredible. Vex has her signature blue feather in her hair and Vax has his black one, and they’re wearing matching leather jackets, black skinny jeans, and shoes with studs on them - though where Vax’s are boots, Vex’s...are stilettos.   Percy’s face flushes bright red, and Keyleth, who’d been jokingly recording her own reactions like reviews, turns her camera on him to capture the moment. He’s sure his skin appears absolutely ridiculous against his white hair and scowls, raising a hand to block himself from view. She pats him on the shoulder and says, “Hang in there, Percy,” and then turns back to the television, zooming in on Vex’s heels.   After they’re done, the host comes over to chat them up for a bit, asking about their Grammy win, how the tour is, where they’re headed. And then, clearly as charmed by Vex as anybody in their right mind would be, he can’t resist a fake-but-not-so-fake proposal aimed her way.   “So, Vex’ahlia,” he says, charisma oozing out of him, “you’re beautiful, famous, rich, royal...where’s a guy like me start trying to get to know you? I’ve only hosted the number one late night show on cable for the last ten years, but somehow I doubt that’s something that impresses you. Any advice?”   “Well,” she says, smirking charmingly, fluttering her eyelashes, “if you’d like to get to know me, you can read my Wikipedia page; it’s pretty thorough, and mostly accurate.”   He laughs, a hand over his heart dramatically. “Ouch! The sting of rejection--”   “No, no,” she says diplomatically, now that her fun’s been had. “In truth, my heart is someone else’s.”   Keyleth drops her phone entirely, which proves to be unfortunate; she’d missed an excellent and unforgettable shot of Percy staring blankly at the television screen as though someone had just called out his winning lottery numbers.   --   Chaney @raspberryfieldsforever  · 18m @suntree @vexxxed @lizzyisademon @cooleraid DID U SEE THIS OMGGGG _______________________________________ Music or Lose It @musicorloseitmag “My heart is someone else’s”: Vex’ahlia, lead singer of Vox Machina, confesses on late-night...   aya @suntree · 15m Replying to @raspberryfieldsforever @vexxxed @lizzyisademon and 1 other I’M FUCKING LOSING IT I’M AT WORK I COULDN’T WATCH ASDGDSFG WHAT DID SHE SAY   RLY BACK ON MY BULLSHIT @vexxxed · 15m Replying to @raspberryfieldsforever @suntree @lizzyisademon and 1 other YES IM HAVIGN A CORONARY LIKE !! SHE DID THAT !!! ON LIVE TV SHE DID THAT   RLY BACK ON MY BULLSHIT @vexxxed · 14m Replying to @suntree @raspberryfieldsforever @lizzyisademon and 1 other AYA OMFGGGG she didnt say who or anything like it basically ended there but WE KNOW THE TRUTH…….   boo @lizzyisademon · 13m Replying to @vexxxed @suntree @raspberryfieldsforever and 1 other #TheTruthIsOutThere   RLY BACK ON MY BULLSHIT @vexxxed · 11m Replying to @lizzyisademon @suntree @raspberryfieldsforever and 1 other i did my waiting….twelve years of it…..in azkaban @imvexthatsvax pardon the interruption but WHO WERE YOU REFERRING TO   kait @cooleraid · 10m Replying to @vexxxed @imvexthatsvax @lizzyisademon and 2 others SAM DID I SERIOUSLY JUST GET HERE IN TIME FOR YOU TO TAG VEX HERSELF DELETE THAT IMMEDIATELY   vex’ildan @imvexthatsvax · 5m Replying to @cooleraid @vexxxed @lizzyisademon and 2 others ;)   --   “I think you killed them,” Pike says, scrolling through the thread. “They’re just screaming at each other incoherently.”   Vex laughs, her feet stretched out across Vax’s lap, also following the drama. “At least I was nice about it. I mean, I winked, didn’t I? Isn’t that a dream come true for a fan of mine?”   “Were you always this egotistical, or is that recent?” Vax asks, responding to a text from Keyleth containing only shocked cat emojis.   She glances up, meets his eyes and smiles. “I like to think it was always.”   He grins back warmly, and they come to a deeper understanding. “Me, too.”   --   (“And you, Vax?” the host asks, because he’s good at his job and knows not to play favorites. “Where’s your heart at the moment? Any singers you’ve got your eye on?”   He grins widely and says, “Actually, I’m more into actors these days. Us musicians are just so tortured and dull, right?”   His remark falls under the radar due to Vex’s bombshell, but it’s okay. Keyleth hears it, and she knows, and that’s all that matters, anyway.)   --   “I’ve been hearing some interesting rumors, Percival,” is the first thing his sister says when he pulls her up on Skype.   “Hello to you too,” he says, glancing her over through their pixelated connection. It’s his late morning, her night, and she’s already lounging in bed; he’s sitting at his dining room table, eating toast. “You’re looking well, Cassandra.”   “I am well, thanks,” she responds politely. “And if the rumors are true, you’re doing quite well yourself.”   “Oh, I’ll bite,” he says. “What’ve you heard?”   “Most recently, that you’re in some sort of a polyamorous relationship with twins from some rock band, and Keyleth,” she says, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably. “The internet seems unable to agree on where your affections lie.”   He sighs heavily. “Fame has its downsides.”   “I’m waiting for the truth,” Cassandra probes, adjusting her earphones. “Unless you’re attempting to tell me that really is the truth, in which case, I must officially withdraw my support of your lifestyle to protect our family’s dignity, poise, and public perception.”   “It’s only partly true,” he says, knowing she’ll pester him until he tells her. “They’re called Vox Machina - the band, that is - and Keyleth and I are...enamored with their frontrunners, who are the twins.”   Her chin slips off her hand, intrigued. “Fascinating,” she says. “So which twin is whose love interest? And this developed simultaneously?”   He’s strangely shameless on the subject; she’s his sister and he misses her, and he knows she’s curious because she cares about him. He says, “Oddly, yes. And there’s no scandal, I’m afraid, it’s rather traditional - Vax’ildan sometimes worries me with his enthusiasm for Keyleth, and, well, Vex’ahlia is quite...”   “Quite,” Cassandra repeats, teasing him. “Enchanting? Effervescent? Does she light up rooms, Percival?”   “Try stadiums,” he says, but he’s smiling.   --   And then, the completely predictable but somehow unexpected happens:   Keyleth begins gathering renown in a way she hasn’t before.   She’s always been an incredible actress, but like Percy, had stuck to indie films and niche genres - but Aramente finally drops at a festival and suddenly it’s all anyone can talk about. It’s sort of magical realism, the kind of story that allows critics to go nuts with their interpretations; she plays the daughter of a novel type of royal family, one that requires a personal journey of strength and self-discovery across the far reaches of the earth before a title can be taken. She’d agreed to the role because she’d felt so connected to the character, and was overjoyed at the amount of time she was able to spend in the wilderness while filming; Percy knows that many of her scenes where she takes in the world around her are genuine.   She garners amazing reviews for her essentially one-woman performance - she’s the main character, and there are few recurring ones - and Kima is suddenly fielding an onslaught of offers for new projects.   None of this really affects Keyleth, though; if anything, she’s just excited that she has the opportunity to do more of what she loves.   What it does change is the amount of time she now spends promoting it, as it’s gotten picked up by a major studio for distribution. She and her two co-stars - the only two that recur in the film, Kashaw and Zahra - appear on talk shows together, complementing each other in the strangest of ways, comical and enjoyable to watch.   She and Percy have finally wrapped Passed Through Fire, but the two of them know it’s going to be a trilogy and don’t have to face the reality of separation just yet. She still makes time for Vax in between promotions - it’s mostly just the month after the film drops, and then, she tells him, probably the week it’s due for a theatrical release - and he makes sure to watch every interview.   And he notices Kashaw.   Kash, as Keyleth calls him. Kash staring at her a little too long, stone-faced and unreadable. Kash never reaching for her, but allowing her touch on him. Kash with a smile that can only be described as distant, except for when he’s talking to her.   Vax recognizes the signs.   “Yeah, I see what you mean,” Vex says, watching their most recent interview on YouTube, her phone held to one ear, an earbud in the other. “Percy, what do you make of this?”   She listens for a moment, clicking through her browser. “Of course,” she answers without explaining to Vax. He kicks her under the table just as their bus hits a bump, and accidentally hits harder than he’d intended.   “Fuck, Vax!” she snaps, rubbing her shin. “Balls! That hurt, you fucker--”   “Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all. “What’s he saying?”   Vex rolls her eyes and lays her phone down, touching the screen. “Darling, you’re on speaker,” she says, “so save any inappropriate commentary for later. Ta.”   Percy snorts. “I’ll try to control myself.”   “Back to me, please,” Vax says.   “I’ve met Kash a few times, and he’s - standoffish, I suppose is the word. No social skills whatsoever, but in an antisocial way, not like Keyleth’s tactlessness. I wouldn’t worry too much, even if he does like her, because she’ll never pick up on it. He’d have to really spell it out for her.”   “Look,” Vax says, “it’s not like I have any right to her, or something. I’m just wondering how she feels.”   “Hasn’t even crossed her mind,” Percy says definitively. “You’ve sort of consumed her, Vax, and I mean that as a compliment. She’s a little more grounded than she used to be.”   “I won’t change course,” Vax says vaguely, “but I won’t stand in her way, either.”   “I think that’s a healthy place to be,” Percy answers.   “Thanks, Freddie.”   There’s a pause and then a noise of utter disgust. “Excuse me?”   Vex laughs loudly, and, well, Percy loses his edge.   --   (Vex has her bad days.   They’ll start with a memory. Just one, any one. Syldor’s hands around her throat. An argument in a hospital hallway. The twinge of a bruised rib. A door slamming shut, rattling the windows.   It’s not that she can’t go to Vax, but more as if she’d rather save him from his own guilt. She calls Percy and she says, “Bad day,” her breath coming and going in short, staccato patterns, her eyes burning and dry, and he’ll talk to her about his day, his work, his life. Anything to get her to focus on him and not her own past.   It’s what he’s doing when Vax sticks his head in her bunk and says, “Hey, I need you to watch this video and let me know if I have competition for Keyleth. Not that she’s a prize, I’m talking respectfully, as in, I’d just like to know where I stand, what I should be prepared for--”   “Gods,” Vex says, Percy in her ear pausing midway through pondering the appeal of Las Vegas. “Okay, I’m coming. I’ve Percy, so if you ask nicely, perhaps he’ll share some insight.”   Vax wanders back out to the kitchen. Vex murmurs, “Thank you.”   “No need,” Percy says softly. “I’m here for you. Always.”)   --   None of them really count on Kash’s spontaneous nature.   An interviewer asks him how he’s liked working with the cast, and he says, “Keyleth is the most annoying person I’ve ever met in my life. She’s so bubbly and happy-go-lucky all the time. It’s exhausting.”   Everyone laughs, and Keyleth’s jaw drops, affronted, but she’s giggling too. Kash looks slightly confused, because he hadn’t been telling a joke, but, Percy thinks as he watches from the green room, it’s probably best it’d been interpreted that way.   They come traipsing back to where Percy’s waiting (for moral support, of course) a few minutes later, and Keyleth is in the middle of saying, “You’re such a jerk, Kash; since when is being happy a bad thing--”   He stops just inside the room, contemplating her. “It’s not,” he says, and without warning, without agenda, he tugs her to him and kisses her.   Percy blinks, not quite able to comprehend what he’s looking at, and then it’s over before he can.   “Well,” Kash says gruffly, “see you around.”   And he walks away, leaving her standing in the doorway with a stunned look on her face, like she’s just coming down from an out-of-body experience.   “Um,” she says, and her eyes slowly travel over to Percy.   “Erm,” he says in response, and attempts to shake himself out of it so that Keyleth can have her impending freak out against somebody solid. “Shall we...go?”   She nods blankly, following him to the valet.   --   (It takes ten minutes of driving home in Percy’s car before she suddenly exclaims, “What the fuck was that about?!”   “People like you,” Percy says unhelpfully. “Although I’m not liking this trend of men kissing you without asking your permission. Technically, he sexually assaulted you.”   Keyleth opens and closes her mouth like an exotic tropical fish. “Um,” she says again, “I think I’ll just talk to him.”)   --   It turns out she doesn’t have to, because he approaches her first, sending her a text: Hey. It’s Kash. Sorry I kissed you last night. I should have given you a chance to stop me. I’m not very good with people. Please accept my apology. I will not do it again. Unless you ask me to. Sorry again. Kash   “Well,” Percy says, because dealing with one socially unaware person is enough for him, and he doesn’t even know where to begin with two.   “I’m gonna let it go,” Keyleth says. “I mean, he came forward and realized his mistakes on his own, and I at least appreciate that.”   “Sure,” Percy says. “Are you going to tell Vax?”   She turns her stare on him, wide and fearful, and the effect comes off as if her eyes have been blown up twice their normal size. “Do you think I should? I’ve been worrying about it, but, like, we’re not dating, I don’t know, I mean, is it something he needs to know about? Is he gonna find out anyway? Were there people watching? Did you tell Vex already?” She says all of this very fast and without breathing, as if she only has a spare bit of time before the end of the world.   “Erm,” Percy says.   “You’re right,” Keyleth says. “I should tell him. He’s been honest with me, I need to show him the same courtesy. I just don’t know what to say, you know? Like, how do I frame it? ‘Kash kissed me and though I was inappropriately flattered I didn’t like it’?”     “That’s, ah--”   “No, it should be in-person,” Keyleth continues fastidiously. “I should tell him to his face. He might think I’m rejecting him, and I’m totally not. I’m really not good with words, I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us. I love him, you know? I’m working towards something. I don’t want to ruin our friendship where it is now, either. You’re right, Percy, you’re so wise. I’ll tell him when they’re in town next week. Thanks!”   “You’re welcome,” Percy says, so exhausted from following Keyleth’s own internal-turned-external monologue that he actually feels as if he has spent the last hour giving her advice. “I’m going to bed, I think. But I’m glad I could be of service.”   --   The band’s due to arrive in Los Angeles within the week - they’re in Phoenix, and their San Diego stop is actually at the end of the tour, rather than following, at the twins’ own request - and their song is almost perfect. Vex and Vax have a furious debate over which show to play it at - Vax wants their last show; if it goes poorly, he argues, then they’ll be out of there the next day, and perhaps it won’t extend the sting of rejection - but Vex merely rolls her eyes and says, “Aren’t we trying to be brave?”   “I’ve done that already,” Vax says immediately. “I did the whole ‘spill out my soul in public’ thing. Your turn.”   “Fine, my turn,” Vex agrees, her palms flat against the wood as they stare at each other from opposite ends of the table. “I want to play it at the first show.”   Vax frowns, but Pike shrugs and says, “Sorry, Vax, you kind of handed her that one.”   “I know,” he grumbles, but acquiesces.   --   vax’ahlia @imvaxthatsvex · 22m monday mood https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8inJtTG_DuU...   emo bitch @ravensallover · 19m hey folks what are we thinking about the foursome today with this lil gem from our boi ________________________________ vax’ahlia @imvaxthatsvex monday mood https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8inJtTG_DuU...   jack of spades @georgiaisforlovers · 17m Replying to @ravensallover @imvaxthatsvex Wait n see who retweets it   Keyleth Retweeted vax’ahlia @imvaxthatsvex · 28m monday mood https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8inJtTG_DuU...   jack of spades @georgiaisforlovers · 14m Replying to @ravensallover @imvaxthatsvex @keylethoftheair Welp   emo bitch @ravensallover · 12m Replying to @georgiaisforlovers @imvaxthatsvex @keylethoftheair lmao where’s tara   the legend of tara @scarenrae · 10m Replying to @ravensallover @georgiaisforlovers @imvaxthatsvex and 1 other I SWEAR TO GOD,. IS IT JUST KEYLETH??? IS IT A FUCKIGN LVOE TRIANGLE??? WHAT IS IT   --   TO: Vax Totally not trying to read into anything but   FROM: Vax yesss?   TO: Vax Was that for me?   FROM: Vax of course, i know ur fav bands :-)   TO: Vax I don’t like to assume!   FROM: Vax kiki my life is full with u in it & all my music if for u   FROM: Vax is* for u   TO: Vax <3   FROM: Vax <3   TO: Vax I wish I wasn’t alone tonight   FROM: Vax i wish that most nights   --   Percy isn’t expecting it. Maybe that’s the worst part.   He’s scanning through his Google news alerts casually while he waits for the car to pick him up and take him to the studio for an ADR session; now that the film’s in post it’s taking heavy scrutiny. Brooklyn Off-Duty Police Officer Involved in DUI. He flicks his thumb down the screen. Fire Contained in Pasadena. He swipes over to the U.K., as he does customarily to remind himself what he left behind, and what is still waiting for him should he choose it. Brexit Negotiations...Scottish Referendum...Anna Ripley, Notorious for the Mass Murder of the Royal de Rolo Family, Found Dead…   The world falls silent, still.   He clicks on the article without even registering his own actions. Posted ten minutes ago.   He stares, and stares, and stares, but the words never change. It’s not a hallucination or a dream. The headline sits there, gloating, mocking him.   Anna Ripley…   The body, he thinks numbly. He wants to see the body. He needs the evidence, the photographic proof of her lying lifeless and cold and unmoving. Anything to get her sick, twisted smile out of his mind. Anything to stop her voice from echoing around his skull.   Percival...   There’s the distant memory of a fingernail, sharp underneath his chin. His phone drops from his hands, but he doesn’t hear it hit the floor.   You’re so clever, Percival. You’re so talented. You’ll do great things. I couldn’t sacrifice that.   He slides down against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest, hands covering his ears. The knocking at his door fails to register; his phone remains unanswered and unnoticed. He sits and he rocks and he breathes, and he tries to keep himself alive.   --   Percy doesn’t show up to record with her. He’s supposed to be there just after nine, an hour after her own call time, but the crew member who’d gone to pick him up returns alone.   From the booth, she sees him talking to the director, who points out something on her phone and shakes her head, covering her mouth as she talks. Keyleth can’t make out what they’re saying, and asks, “Hey guys, everything okay? Any notes?”   The director glances up and smiles; she presses a button and says, “Doing great, Keyleth. Actually, we’ve moved Percival’s slot to tomorrow - we’ve decided to bucket all your time for today, if that’s fine with you.”   Keyleth sees nothing strange about the explanation and so she doesn’t pry for details. “No problem,” she says brightly. “Let me know when we’re ready.”   “In three, two…” she signals for Keyleth to start, and leans over to the A.D. “Don’t give her enough of a break to check her phone today,” she murmurs to the other woman. “We don’t have the flexibility to lose time with both Keyleth and Percival.”   --   It’s five in the evening for Cassandra when Kynan pulls her aside; she’d been traveling, stuck in meetings all day, hadn’t even glanced at a screen in hours. He hands her his mobile wordlessly, fingers clammy and warm, and her lips part in a bare, uncontrollable slip of shock. The blood sinks back down into her heart and pools there, her face left white, a porcelain mask cracking.   She asks unsteadily, “How could this possibly have gotten out before we were even informed?”   “I don’t know.”   Her expression hardens. “Does Percy know?”   Kynan swallows nervously. “I don’t know.”   “Fuck,” Cassandra breathes out, already dialing his number. “This isn’t good.” It rings, and rings, and rings. She tries Keyleth and it’s the same; it rings, and rings, and finally goes to voicemail. “Keyleth, it’s Cass,” she says into the receiver. “Call me the second you see this, please. Talk soon.”   “What can I do?” he asks, needing to be helpful. “Task me.”   She furrows her brow, thinking of someone who may be there, accessible. “Actors,” she hisses, and it comes to her immediately. “So bloody unreliable. I need you to get me Vex’ahlia Vessar’s mobile. Her father is the Marquees of Reading. She’s in a band called Vox Machina. It shouldn’t be difficult.”   A look of recognition crosses his features. “Understood.”   --   Vex isn’t one to pick up calls from unknown numbers.   Vax, fortunately, is, and it’s his phone that rings just after ten-thirty in the morning as they’re checking out of their hotel. He slides to answer without thinking about it, barely comprehending the +44 code in front of the rest of the digits.   “Hello?” he says, adjusting the strap of his backpack.   “Vex’ahlia?” a harried voice answers in response.   “Wrong twin,” Vax says, now struggling with the buckle. “Who’s this?”   “I need to speak with Vex’ahlia immediately. It’s imperative I get ahold of her. Are you Vax’ildan?”   He stops, straightening up slowly. “Yeah,” he says carefully. “Again, who is this?”   “My name is Cassandra de Rolo,” she says, and he actually pulls the phone away from his ear to stare at it in surprise. “Hello?”   “Hi, yeah, erm, sorry, Your Highness, or - yeah,” he says, unaware of how to address her. “You - right. Vex. Okay. Uh…” He lowers the phone again and scans for his sister; she’s talking to Grog, lounging in one of the lobby chairs. “Hey, Vex!” he yells.   She leans her head around Grog’s frame. “What?” she shouts back.   “You - need to take this,” he says, holding up his cell. “Now.” She gets up obediently, padding over to him with a quizzical look on her face, and takes the phone. “Hello?” she says, and then for awhile she is quiet.   He watches her expression shift from confusion to intense focus, something a bit like dawning horror hiding in the widening of her eyes. He can’t make out what Cassandra is telling her, but it’s frantic, worried. Answering a question he doesn’t hear, Vex says, “Yes,” followed by another pause, and then:   “Yes, I’ll find him.”   --   “Vex, this is nuts,” Vax says for the tenth time, trailing behind her furiously. “You can’t just take off and not even tell us--”   “I’ll meet you in L.A.,” she says, brushing him off as the doorman outside finds her a cab. “Vax, I’m sorry. I have to go.”   “But why--”   A car pulls up next to the curb and she throws the door open before the driver can think about getting out to help. She glances over her shoulder and says, “Don’t worry about me. See you tomorrow,” and then she is gone, speeding away from the hotel like her life is at stake.   --   (Maybe it is, he realizes after, staring at Cassandra de Rolo’s contact details. Maybe it is.)   --   Vex buys the first flight she can on whatever airline is leaving the earliest, and because she only has a duffle bag, she’s able to get on one ten minutes out from boarding. The man at the desk recognizes her, too, and it’s a rare moment where she’s grateful for fame rather than angry about it.   She reads the news report while waiting at the gate, her heart sinking deeper with every word, the memory of Cassandra’s revelation fresh in her mind.   “Vex’ahlia, I’m not sure what you’re aware of or not, but I don’t have time to respect his privacy at the moment and I know the two of you are close,” she’d said. “Anna Ripley, the woman who murdered my family - our family - has died. She affects Percy differently than I, because she chose to keep him alive; she’d told him she was doing him a favor, and that she was going to create something beautiful out of him, out of his tragedy.” Even now, the idea has Vex’s skin and bone shivering out of tune with each other, like she’s shaking inside of herself. “She’d always been interested in him. She’d thought he was brilliant. And she was a sociopathic, deluded, evil woman.”   She’d said, “I can’t get ahold of Percy.”   She’d said, “Please, Vex’ahlia, I’m begging you. Find him.”   But Vex had started to move before Cassandra had even asked.   --   The flight is an hour and a half of torture, every terrible circumstance and situation Percy may possibly be in playing like the b-roll of a film on loop. She’s so wired by the time she arrives at his apartment complex that she throws two hundred dollars at the cab driver, even though the ride had only cost her fifty.   There’s no security to wrestle with, no difficult front desk management; Percy likes to be prepared, if nothing else. She marches up to the man sitting behind the counter and says with all the charm she can muster, “Hello, sorry to disturb you, but I’m Vex’ahlia Vessar - I believe Percival de Rolo mentioned I’d be staying with him this week and left me a key? I’m a few days early; I wanted it to be a surprise.” She slides him her I.D., not wanting to waste any time, and not even knowing if she has any time to waste.   The man smiles kindly up at her and says, “Of course, Ms. Vessar. Welcome, and what a lovely surprise - I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” He reaches into his desk drawer and hands her a small envelope, the weight of the key heavy inside of it; well, Percy does pay a fortune to live here, so it shouldn’t be any surprise that the staff are extremely well-trained and professional.   “He’s on the eighth floor - 8A. There are only two apartments, so you can’t miss it.”   She unlocks his door with her blood pulsing in all the wrong places. The pit of her stomach, the base of her skull, the bottoms of her feet, the creases of her elbows. It opens with a short click, and then swings inward, and Vex is immediately relieved that he isn’t face-down in the entryway.   The second thing she thinks is that his apartment is entirely too green for him, but exactly enough for Keyleth; another time, the observation will be amusing, but it isn’t now.   “Percival?” she calls, and hears no answer in response. She doesn’t take her time. She rushes from room to room, searching him out; the fear of finding him doesn’t outweigh her need to find him. Library, work room, guest room...   In the bathroom off of the master bedroom, the water is on, beating against the bowl of the sink.   (As long as Vex lives, the sight of endlessly running water in stillness leaves her with a mark; an uncomfortable emptiness, and the sound of death.)   She pushes the door open further, and hits something with a gentle thud, and she has never faced anything as terrifying in her life as Percy’s limp body on the tiled floor, curled up in itself.   “God,” she exhales, dropping to her knees, her hands immediately finding the pulse strong in his throat; it’s fast, actually, too fast, and he’s sweating through his clothes, forehead hot and clammy. “Christ, Percy, fuck--”   He makes a low noise in his throat, but doesn’t move. She turns him onto his back, her palms, cupping his face, stroking his cheekbones, trying to get a response. “Percy,” she says, shaking him a little. “Percy, I need you to open your eyes, darling, please.”   She glances around the bathroom, knowing he must’ve taken something to wind up in this state; she remembers horror stories, celebrities and their painkiller addictions, and tries to think of any recent injury Percy could’ve had that would’ve allotted him the same treatment--   Her eyes fall upon a small prescription bottle by the sink, and she reaches for it, fearing the worst--   She steadies herself on Percy’s shoulder. He grunts again, a cross between a groan and a word. She shakes the bottle and it rattles; it’s Percy’s anxiety medication, and it’s mostly full. She sighs, relieved; so, he didn’t overdose.   Vex lifts herself up and fills a cup with water from the still-running sink. “Percy,” she says, “I need you to drink this.” She slips her hand underneath his neck, and with a disturbing, macabre thought, she realizes that the dead weight of a head is really quite heavy. “Percy,” she says louder. “Open your eyes.”   And then she pours the ice-cold water onto his face.   --   He blinks blearily and the world is upside-down, out of focus, shadowed in hues of grey. There’s something hovering above him, but he can’t make out what it is. His mouth is dry and dusty, and his skin feels liquidized, like it’s melting off of him, like it’s not there at all.   “Percy,” a voice says. “Can you hear me?”   “Yes,” he thinks he says, but it comes out sounding all wrong. “Yes,” he says again, louder but still nonsensical.   The person’s fingers brush his hair away from his forehead. “Gods, Percy,” the voice says, and he recognizes this voice. It’s a good one, full of gentle lulls and lilts, and not the horrible thing of possession he’d been hearing for the past few hours. He tries to center his gaze, but his eyelids are so difficult to hold open, and it doesn’t seem worth it.   “Who?” he tries to ask, the word slurred.   “Vex,” Vex says, staring down at him.   “Vex,” he repeats, and grins to himself. “Nice dream,” he sighs.   Something is slipped behind his ears, resting on the bridge of his nose.   “This isn’t a dream,” she says softly. “Open your eyes, darling. Please.”   So he does, and this time, it’s in focus.   Vex is hovering above him looking every bit as beautiful as if he had dreamed her up himself; she’s smiling and stroking his face with the tips of her fingers, tracing across his pronounced jaw line, his bottom lip, his cheekbones.   “Vex,” he says, surprised, and it comes out sounding more and more like it’s supposed to.   “Yes,” she says, and he’s startled to find tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’m so happy to see you.”   --   It takes her ten minutes just to get him to sit up, and even then he can’t do much more than that. He can’t seem to look at her for too long - she’s reminded of the first time they met, and the brutal contrast between then and now has her heart swollen in her chest - but it’s because of the tremendous effort it’s taking him to raise his head. He sits with his legs bent, one knee up and drawn in, breathing deeply through his nose.   “Percy,” she says, reaching for his arm; he’s still clammy to the touch, and she doesn’t know much about caring for someone but she does know she shouldn’t let him sit around in his damp clothes for much longer. His jeans seem fine, but the shirt’s soaked in water and sweat, and he’s started shivering. She tugs on the hem of it, attempting to get him to focus. “Dear, you’ve got to take this off.”   He nods without looking at her, but doesn’t move.   She tries again. “Is it alright if I help you?”   Another pause, another nod, and then she kneels in front of him and carefully lifts his shirt over his head. The fabric sticks to his body in places, his muscles shaking like the movement costs him extraordinary effort. Her eyes trail down, inspecting him from a clinical angle. It’s unsettling to see a man so in-shape and well-defined unable to even stand.   “I can stand,” he says haltingly, and for a moment she fears she’d spoken aloud, but it’s rather as if clarity in some regard is returning to him. “Need...a moment.”   She rests a hand against the top of his head in an acknowledgment, straightening up, running over a checklist. She’s in survival mode, the fight side instead of flight. Fresh towels, she thinks. New shirt. Drinkable water. Bed. Company. She can handle all of those things.   She rummages through his dresser and grabs the first things she finds: a white v-neck and a pair of sweatpants. She fills a glass from the filter in the sink and sets it on his nightstand. She pulls back the covers. And then she returns to the bathroom, where he’s holding onto the counter and trying to hoist himself up.   Vex extends a hand. Percy looks at her and takes it, her fingers grasped tightly in his, and they’re both surprised to find that she can support his weight. Once he’s standing, he’s a little steadier, a little more alert; she takes one of the towels and drapes it around his neck, his shoulders, rubs the middle of his back. He lets her work, recognizing that she’s doing what’s good for him, fighting back against the impulses he has to not fight at all.   It’s another twenty minutes until she gets him in bed. He manages to change into his sweats and stops there, still shirtless, but she doesn’t push him on it. She removes her jacket, kicks off her sneakers, undoes the braid from her hair; he watches from where he’s leaning against his side table, entranced. And then, before she can talk herself out of it, she unzips her jeans and rolls them down her hips, her thighs, pulling them over her feet and off. She doesn’t have an ulterior motive; she doesn’t intend on leaving him alone and they aren’t comfortable to sleep in.   He stays silent, processing. She slips under his deep blue sheets, and says, “Come here.” She pats the space next to her as if he requires the visual reference to understand.   After a moment, he says, “This isn’t how I...imagined having you in my bed the first time.” His hesitation, she realizes, comes from regret, and not from reluctance. He’d wanted to be better, not falling apart. That had been the point.   “Percy, it’s okay,” she says gently, mirroring his own sentiment from that night on his couch back at him; it’d helped her for reasons she couldn’t explain, so maybe it’ll help him, too. “Come here.”   He moves slowly, but he comes; he sits on the edge of the bed with one foot still planted on the floor, the other knee bent, resting flat. He stares straight ahead at the dark screen of the television and says, “You don’t have to do this,” but the drugs make it much harder for him to sound convincing.   “I know,” she says, “but I want to,” and it’s not a lie.   He lifts his other leg onto the bed, but still faces forward. “Why?” he asks.   Vex bites her lip. “The same reason you’d do this for me,” she confesses, a shot not quite in the dark.   She isn’t sure why she says it. She’s kept it to herself for so long and so well, content to burn, and burn, and burn. Maybe it’s time for confirmation of something, if not the thing itself. Maybe it’s time they do what they promised to do months ago on a balcony in New York and tell the truth. Maybe it’s what he needs to hear.   It catches him off-guard, exactly enough to finally get him to turn his body and meet her eyes, and the intensity in his stare is so staggering that she forgets any thoughts following. His pupils are slightly blown but it’s him looking at her, not the ghost of a tortured boy from long before she knew him. He studies her with a clarity he doesn’t fully possess, and he seems to make a decision.   He leans in towards her, supporting his weight with a palm flat against the bed, and oh, my God, he’s going to kiss her. And even worse, she wants him to.   “Percy,” she whispers, and he’s so close she can feel him exhale against her lips. God, she wants him more than she’s ever wanted anything in her life, but she can’t. He’s playing directly into her own coping mechanisms. She understands misdirection of emotion better than anyone, and how it comes back to haunt. “If I thought it would help you, I would,” she states softly. “But I think you’d be angry with yourself, later.”   “I just want to forget,” he says, voice so small and plain it breaks her heart again and again and again. “I can’t think about it anymore, Vex. It’ll kill me.”   His elbow shakes against her, and he can’t hold himself up much longer; she wraps her arms around him, one hand cupping the back of his head, and pulls him against her like breaking against an ocean.   The way his body falls into hers is almost graceful in nature; there are no hard edges or sharp corners, just his cheek pressing against her shoulder and his torso half-resting on top of hers, legs intertwined. He shudders slightly and adjusts his arms underneath hers, holding her in an embrace that quickly turns into a quiet sort of desperation.   She lays her chin against the top of his head, running her fingers through his hair, nails scratching his scalp comfortingly. She asks, “Do you want to tell me about it?”   “No,” he says against her collarbone, and then, “yes.” He breathes steadily for a second, composing himself to the best of his ability. “I want you to know everything about me.”   He says, “Anna Ripley is dead.”   She says, “I know.”   He says, “I’m not, and sometimes I think that’s the problem.”   --   (He spills everything out to her, whispers in a darkened room. She holds him tightly against her and he touches her skin to keep himself grounded. Sometimes she’s there, he rambles, like I can feel her watching me, like I hear her voice in my head, telling me how proud of me she is, how I’ve done such great things, how I’ll bring about so many more. How intelligent I am. How all I need is a tragedy to make me understand that I should be shared with everyone.   Vex doesn’t bother pointing out that the rhetoric of a madwoman doesn’t make sense; he’s long since figured that out. It’s not what matters. What matters is that it was damning, shameful, blaming, celebratory. It carried an algorithm meant to break him as a person, warping his innocence into something worthy of punishment. Cassandra survived by accident, he says. She snuck out. It was supposed to be just me. Only me. It was my fault.   But it wasn’t, Vex points out, her lips above the shell of his ear. You were young and impressionable and content with your life, and that doesn’t make you a fool, or somehow responsible.   He’s hanging onto her every word, his tears hot and pooling against her shirt, body shaking with every breath. Maybe this is what he’s been building to all along, what he’s been dreaming for: someone to simply hold him and let him cry.   You’ve suffered a long time and a very great deal, she says, but you’re not alone anymore. I’m here.)   --   It’s late afternoon when Keyleth’s session ends; they’d worked hard, focusing entirely on their task at hand, and so she’d felt it inappropriate to check her phone throughout the day. It’d actually felt nice to disconnect for awhile, to be away from all the noise, the alerts, the responsibility. She leaves Percy a few doodles and comments on the script for his lines, thanks the director and assistant director, and finally powers on her phone.   She’s hit with ten missed calls, three voicemails, and about forty texts from various numbers. It takes her a second of scrolling in complete confusion before she realizes she’s being asked about Percy.   Vax is responsible for at least fifteen of the texts and two of the voicemails, so she calls him without listening to anything, her blood suddenly flooding with adrenaline. She can’t think of anything good that would force this level of contact, and she’s panicking by the time Vax answers with a visibly relieved, “Keyleth! Thank God, I haven’t been able to get ahold of anyone--”   “What’s going on?” she asks immediately, stepping out of the studio and towards the car waiting to take her home. “I haven’t been able to check my phone today, and I have all these missed calls and messages--”   “Cassandra rang me,” he says, and Keyleth stops walking mid-step, almost falling over at the unexpected twist. “She - I don’t know much, or what this all exactly means, but it’s all over the news - Anna Ripley is dead?”   Something cold pools at the base of her skull, the name alone sounds like a curse. “Anna Ripley is dead?”   “Yeah, and Cassandra was worried about Percival, so she spoke to Vex for a few minutes and Vex took off,” he says. “She should’ve been there awhile ago, but I haven’t heard from her--”   “I should’ve known,” Keyleth says blankly, getting into the car. “Shit! I should’ve known something was wrong when Percy didn’t show up for work - I thought - is he okay? Damn it!”   “Breathe, Kiki,” Vax says, and the use of his nickname for her calms her somehow. “I think Vex is with him. I haven’t heard anything to suggest otherwise.”   “Change of plans,” Keyleth says to the driver. “Drop me off at Percy’s instead, but do you mind waiting for a few minutes?”   “Not at all,” the man says with a polite nod.   “I’ll go over there and let you know,” she says into the receiver. “I should’ve been there for him.”   “Maybe,” Vax answers vaguely, “but maybe not.”   --   She doesn’t get what he means until lets herself into Percy’s apartment with her own key and finds nothing amiss.   The silence is weighted down by something, though, and it’s a strange feeling, sort of like she shouldn’t be there at all, like she’s intruding. She doesn’t call out his name; she glances between rooms, searching for signs. A bag in the living room. Kitchen cabinets open, glasses on the counter. His bedroom door is cracked slightly; she places a hand against it and peeks around--   “You can come in,” a low voice says, “but be quiet, alright, Keyleth?”   It’s Vex, stretched out in Percy’s bed, hair spilling across his pillow and his head resting against the nook of her shoulder, sleeping soundly. Her arms are around him and her eyes are red, drained, but she looks like she’s where she’s supposed to be.   “Oh,” Keyleth says quietly, observing with a restrained type of relief. “You are here. Good.”   “Cassandra called me.”   “I heard. Text your brother. He’s worried about you.”   Vex’s eyebrows raise, but lower again just as quickly with a nod of understanding. “I will.”   Keyleth doesn’t comment on the state of them; Vex’s fingers trailing up and down Percy’s bare back, her clothes strewn about the floor, the undeniable and unshakable truth of intimacy. She asks, “Is he alright?”   “He wasn’t,” Vex says, “but he will be.”   Keyleth doesn’t make a move to leave, but she doesn’t speak again, either. She hovers in the doorway, overcome and overwhelmed and jealous.   Vex says, “Whatever it is, spit it out. I won’t be offended.”   “How can you do it?” Keyleth asks, being given permission. “You just - hopped on a plane the second he needed you and - gave yourself over to him. Like, wholeheartedly. You didn’t even really know what was wrong, or what to expect, and you did it anyway. Why?”   She can’t wrap her head around it, stumbling over the building blocks, all the roads and bridges; she wants to say she’s that kind of person, too, but she also wants to know every facet of it, every secret and hidden piece.   Vex smiles sadly at her. “I think you know exactly why.”   Love is suddenly sitting in the room with them, spread out across the bed, lounging in all the chairs, filling up the sink. Vex starts, “It might be careless to you.”   “It is,” Keyleth says, “but that doesn’t mean anything.”   “People who are going to hurt you will hurt you regardless of the walls you build,” Vex says gently.   “So you shouldn’t even try?”   “I knew there was a possibility I’d end up hurt today,” Vex says. “And I was. But not by anything Percy did - by things I couldn’t protect him from.” She absentmindedly strokes his hair while she speaks. “It’s impossible to protect yourself from everything, Keyleth, but aren’t there people you hold dear who you want to protect? People who you want to keep safe, and you’d do so, without a second thought to yourself?”   “Of course.” Her eyes fall to Percy, breathing steadily, and her heart wanders to Vax. Of course she wants to keep him safe, wants him to stop torturing himself, gathering up burdens like toys.   “So doesn’t it then hold that there are people who want the same for you?” Vex says. “Percy and I - we’re fighting to protect each other, but for us, it sometimes means protecting each other from ourselves.” She hesitates before continuing. “You, on the other hand, aren’t trying to protect yourself as much as you’re simply...afraid, I think.”   “Afraid of what?”   “Losing someone,” Vex says. “You’re afraid that if you have Vax, you can also not have him, and you’re trying to convince yourself it isn’t worth it.”   “No, I--” Keyleth interrupts, and stalls, wringing her hands together. “It is worth it, but I guess - yeah, I am afraid of...knowing what it’s like to not be alone, and then have to be alone again.” She gestures to Percy, still sound asleep. “I get it with you, Vex. Like, I get the two of you have this - this deeper understanding. But Vax is...the kind of guy who runs blindly into burning buildings without even knowing if anyone is inside to save. And me - I’ll save people but I won’t die for nothing.” She grimaces. “Sorry, I know that was convoluted, I’m not the best with metaphors--”   “No, I think I understand,” Vex says, but lowers her voice notably when Percy shifts his head. “You’re afraid you’re going to lose him to - what, his own spontaneous, self-sacrificial nature? That he’ll take something on too big for him, or...”   “Something like that,” Keyleth concedes. “I feel like Vax is always - searching for the next thing to punish himself for.”   “So give him somewhere new to go,” Vex says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You don’t want him running into fire - fine. Let him run to you instead.” Keyleth frowns at the advice, because it seems like addressing part of the problem and not the whole thing. Vex continues, “He’s learning to stand up for what’s important to him, and you’ll be first on that list if you give him the chance. Keyleth, he’s devoted to you.”   “I know,” Keyleth says, because she does. “I know.”   “You’re afraid,” Vex repeats, softer. “Reasons look a lot like excuses when you whittle them down.”   “So are you,” Keyleth says, “or you would’ve told Percy already. And maybe that’s fine. Maybe it’s okay to be afraid as long as you don’t intend to let it stop you.”   “Maybe,” Vex agrees. “Do you intend to let it stop you?”   “No,” Keyleth decides. “Do you?”   “No,” she says, voice quieting, looking down at the boy in her arms. “No, I don’t.”   Keyleth rests a hand on the door frame, smiling, eyes averted away. “Good luck,” she says as she backs out of the room. “To both of us.”   --   (Keyleth leaves and the apartment is once again silent, no television hum, no running fan.   So are you. Vex hears Keyleth’s accusation like she’s still standing there, shouting it at her. Or you would’ve told him.   It isn’t that simple, she wants to say, but there’s no one left to argue with. It isn’t, it isn’t, it isn’t.   It is.   Percy has an arm slung across her waist, and his face is peaceful, dreamless. Nobody has ever seen him this exposed, vulnerable by his own choice, and he has let her in as if there were never even a lock. She touches her lips to the crown of his head.   “I should’ve told you,” she murmurs into his hair. “It’s yours.”)   --   Keyleth calls him as she slides back into the car, and Vax answers on the second ring. “Hey.”   “Hey. I saw them both,” she tells him. “They’re fine. She’ll text you soon.”   He sighs in relief. “Oh, good. Thanks, Kiki.”   “No problem,” she says, and works a fingernail in between her teeth, caught up in thought; Vex had given her a lot to contemplate. She can’t get the image of them out of her mind, curled up together, damaged and hopeful and whole. She says, “I get what you meant, by the way. When you said maybe it was good it wasn’t me who got the call.”   “Yeah?”   “Yeah,” she says, gazing at the palm trees peppering the skyline outside her window, streets flying by. She presses the tips of her fingers against the glass.   “Why?”   It’s almost wrong to say, like a confession that isn’t hers. “Because she loves him,” she says.   Vax is quiet for a moment. “I know.”   “That means something, doesn’t it.”   It’s not really a question, but he answers anyway. “Yeah,” he says wistfully. “It does.”   --   When Percy drowsily stirs from sleep, he’s disoriented and sluggish and not quite sure where he is, but he’s pressed up against something warm and alive, breathing slowly.   He blinks his eyes open into a mess of dark hair and the dim glow of a phone screen; painted blue nails tap out a message just above his shoulder, and then a hand drops, stroking up and down his arm as if it’s out of habit.   It doesn’t hit him all at once - it passes over him slowly, like waves that foam at the tip and never quite crash. Vex. Vex hovering over him, holding him. Vex leading him to bed. He becomes acutely aware of his left arm, tucked between their bodies, hand laying against her bare thigh. Vex’s face, getting closer and closer--   He sighs against her collarbone, and she stills, setting her phone down. She whispers, “Percy?”   “Mm,” is all he can make out, groggily trying to pull himself out of it. He lifts his head carefully, and with a groan, immediately drops it onto his pillow and off of her shoulder, sliding onto his back.   She mirrors him by rolling onto her side, one hand on his chest, eyes tracing his face. “Are you - awake?” she tries again. “Are you alright?”   “Yes,” he says, and after a period of stillness, reaches blindly for his glasses sitting on the nightstand, almost knocking over the water in the process. “Just...out of sorts.”   She’s silent as he lifts himself up, angling his back against the headboard. He takes a moment to blink against the sudden clarity of his vision, shaking his head lightly, like it’s full of loose parts, metal rattling around. He grips the glass of water and she tracks his movements sharply, the bob of his throat as he drinks, his muscles flexing.   He won’t keep her waiting any longer, no matter the oppression of his lethargy. He says, “I owe you an explanation,” setting the glass back down.   “Alright,” she says, put a little more at ease after hearing him speak.   “I had a - panic attack,” he says tentatively. “It was...the worst I’ve had, I think, ever. And I couldn’t remember...if I’d taken my medication. So I kept taking it without realizing. I couldn’t - I couldn’t see, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t hear.” He clears his throat, sparing her a short glance and down. “I wasn’t trying to--”   “I know,” Vex interrupts so he doesn’t have to say it. “I - had the thought, briefly, but I somewhat figured it out.”   “I’m sorry,” he tells her plainly, spreading his fingers, palms facing up and then contorting into fists.   “You don’t have to apologize,” she says, but she sits up and she’s close again, almost against his side, and he thinks of how he almost destroyed them both.   “No, I do,” he says, and reaches up, taking her chin in his hand gently. It’s not the time for shame. “I shouldn’t have tried to...kiss you. You did the right thing.”   Her teeth tug on her bottom lip, and she exhales in breath shorter than it should be. She says unsteadily, “I almost let you.”   “I know,” he answers softly, and his hand drifts to her hair, wrapping a curl around his fingers.   She releases her bottom lip and it’s red, slightly swollen. She looks at him from under her eyelashes, and he suddenly is hit with what she’s implicating. She says, “Percy, I was so close. I almost - I almost ruined this with you.”   “But you didn’t,” he says, and senses the need for weightlessness. “And thus, I’m here, awake and coherent and perfectly capable of stopping you from jumping me, should your unhealthy method of handling stress rear its head again.”   At that, she finally laughs, angling her neck and resting her cheek against the palm of his hand. “Well, in that case…” she trails off dryly. Her eyes are shining and her heart is still frantic, fluttering. “Now I’m convinced you’re feeling a bit better.”   He observes her casually for a moment, as if from a great distance, finding the cracks. “Do you want to talk about it?”   “This isn’t about me,” she says.   “It can be about us both,” he says. “I’ve had my time. Please, distract me.”   She pulls the sheet back up over his hips, aware of how little she’s wearing, and hunches over her knees. Her hair flows down her spine, against her shoulders, curling and wild. She starts slowly, “I haven’t actually - acted on it as much as it seems like I have. I don’t just...fuck people. But for awhile after - after Syldor - I’d seek it out, you know, the detachment, the roughness. I didn’t know how to...feel anything else. And I’d remember that I was real and that I was - desireable, I guess.” She’s leaning closer to him without realizing it, drawing comfort and stability from his presence. “But with you...it’s different. I won’t say I don’t want you to want me, because I do, but when I look at you--” she breaks off suddenly, her thought losing its way. She struggles momentarily and says, “I want you to be real.” There’s a long pause populated by only the two of them staring at each other. “And I want to know that - there’s a difference between using someone, and someone...caring about you.”   He watches her with eyes that never judge and a body that simply listens; he doesn’t ask for more than she’s giving, and he doesn’t pull her closer. He merely strokes her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, and then says, “Thank you for telling me.”   “I want you to know everything about me,” she echoes, aching for reasons she can’t comprehend.   “I want you,” he says bluntly. “I didn’t - return the sentiment before, but I do, Vex. How could I not?” He brushes over her bottom lip, still red, like it’s beckoning him. “But more than that, I don’t want to hurt you. And I want to be the person who shows you the difference between - being used, and something with - real emotion as the motivation.”   Vex smiles, genuine and quiet, something reserved for only him to see, and says, “As long as we’re on the same page.”   “We are,” he says. “And as for me - I’ll tell you the rest when I’m ready. When I know how I feel about - her - and why I feel it, you’ll be the first person I’ll come to. Or second, depending on when I meet with my therapist.”   “I’m flattered,” she teases without malice.   “First, then,” he replies decisively, kidding. “After all, she probably didn’t even bother to call. You flew across state lines. There’s a clear winner.”   “Charming.” She rolls her eyes at the bravado, and then, sensing the need for distance - not from each other, but from their problems - she says, “Well, it’s almost six and I’m famished.” She gathers her hair at the nape of her neck and ties it into a sloppy bun. “Thai alright with you?”   She slips out of bed, facing away from him, and she can almost feel his gaze fall to her ass. She turns and smirks over her shoulder at him, and he flushes, unable to avert his eyes in time.   He says, “Erm.”   “What,” she says, “never seen an attractive woman in her underwear before, Percival?”   “Not that I can ever remember,” he says stupidly, like he’s just letting whatever words he has stockpiled in his mouth fall out of it.   “Well, I wouldn’t want to be a distraction,” she says nonchalantly, and opens his first drawer, remembering where his clothes are organized from her earlier search. They’re mostly boxer briefs, but she finds a navy pair of boxes with white dots on them and slips them on, rolling them over her hips. “Do you have a normal delivery place, or should I Google it?”   He’s speechless for a solid thirty seconds - she’s left the room entirely and is standing in the kitchen with her phone when he finally appears from the hallway behind her.   “Good God, woman,” he says, shaking his head. “I guess it’s true what they say about rock stars.”   “I’d suppose similar things are said about movie stars,” she shoots back, grinning, and even though they’re both exhausted, emotionally drained and bodies bruised instead of broken, the world feels conquerable.   --   Percival @PercivaldeRolo · 36m Like Real People Do - Hozier https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms   aya @suntree · 25m um _______________________________________ Percival @PercivaldeRolo Like Real People Do - Hozier https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms   vex’ildan Retweeted Percival @PercivaldeRolo · 48m Like Real People Do - Hozier https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms   aya @suntree · 7m Replying to @imvexthatsvax @PercivaldeRolo UM   --   (She’s leaning on her elbows against his kitchen island, one foot kicked over her other ankle, scrolling through her phone. She’s since put on his sweater while waiting for their food to be delivered, and as he approaches from the hallway, freshly showered and fully clothed, he hears the song he’d tweeted playing through her speakers.   She doesn’t hear him coming, but straightens her spine, adjusting her weight between feet. He steps up behind her, chest pressed against her back, and places his hands flat against the marble, arms on either side of her body. She starts slightly, arching her neck, and he realizes just how much taller he is, how easily he envelopes this lithe woman in front of him. He thinks about being somebody bigger, not in size but in spirit, in heart. Somebody who can keep her safe.   He doesn’t speak for a moment, letting her settle comfortably into him. Finally, he lowers his lips to the shell of her ear and murmurs, “Thank you.”   She rests the back of her head against his shoulder and the music plays on.)