#But dammit am I a thirsty bitch that cares

[roadara23]

The Bad Batch Season 2 starts today,

And I will be thinking of no-one, and nothing, else for the rest of the year.

Thank you.

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 17: 1x23 The Omega Glory

Watched the very uneven episode “The Omega Glory” today. Upon some reflection.. I think I have seen it? But I think my last rewatch ended abruptly after “By Any Other Name” so it might have been some time ago.

Anyway, it was... something. Decent, I might even say good, until the last 10-15 minutes and then it just went off a cliff? That’s how I’d summarize it.

Sulu, my beloved. I’ve missed you.

Kirk knows where all the ships are. I mean, obviously, but I love to hear it.

Phasers on heavy stun huh?

It’s so weird to be on a different ship. That looks like the same ship. It’s so empty and haunted looking.

With creepy crystal remains of bodies everywhere.

“These white crystals... are the crew.”

Something was thirsty!! Perhaps... a water vampire? Perhaps... a former McCoy girlfriend?

(Honestly having watched the whole ep...they could have expanded this intro longer. It was creepy and mysterious. Then cut the last act.)

Oh no, they’ve been infected and now must quarantine. Sort of. I guess.

...Oh no, is this Vietnam? Again?

“Our old enemy, Vietnam.”

My mother suggested the disease might be communism and I don’t think that metaphor tracks through the whole episode but you know what.. anything’s possible.

I don’t like this whole “you can’t leave the planet or you’ll get sick and die” thing. Too familiar.

"I may never be able to leave this planet but I have a worse problem: a colleague may be breaking a rule."

Says the man who has frequently violated a directive that has never been referred to as Prime before.

Kirk is getting very mumbly. That’s his serious voice.... bu it’s also his Denny Crane voice lol.

Like bio warfare in the 90s? TOS really thought the 90s was going to be the dark ages, didn’t it?

Only 90s kids remember...

Spock bursting in with a wounded man, just bringing the drama, as he does.

He’s not even listening to McCoy. Rude.

Spock absolutely 100% would have killed Captain Tracey on instinct as soon as Kirk is threatened.

Sulu’s in command? I love Captain Sulu but where is Scotty?

Kirk is so good. Clever, strong, smart. Knows all the regulations.

Tracey’s so dumb. “They’ve eradicated disease and live for hundreds of years!” Man, have you considered that they are...aliens? And their life spans are simply.... naturally longer than human life spans? And even if you could isolate the serum, it might not work on humans?

And his master plan is to isolate their immunity and bottle it for profit. It’s our old enemy... capitalism and the exploitation of intellectual property.

A fight scene!

“The pointy-eared one stays.”

Another fight scene!

Spock is watching all of this, and you know what, I feel like he’s not upset about it. It’s just like Pre-Reform Vulcan. Perhaps some... Amok Time flashbacks? “Damn, I wish that was me.”

Peanut gallery Spock.

“I wish you could teach me that.” / “I have tried.” Omg where is my scene of Spock trying to teach Kirk the nerve pinch?

And then that look Kirk gives him.

I don’t get the point of this scene but it amuses me that as soon as McCoy sees the pretty girl, he feels better.

A post-apocalyptic alien world... a very interesting concept. Like you could do a lot with that idea imo.

“That’s our worship word [freedom too.” Umm.... questionable.

Damn bitch, that was cold. Just knocking him out like that.

Damn yankee.

...Yankee and Communist dammit.

McCoy’s not even surprised to see Kirk and Spock out of jail.

Nature created a natural counterbalance to the biological disease. Where is OUR natural counterbalance, I ask?

McCoy sounds extra Southern rn. It’s all the stress.

I really don’t think Shatner gets enough credit for his subtlety. His face when McCoy explains the whole situation...

Oh he's mad now. "You've hurt Spock for nothing! Oh yeah and also killed thousands but MOSTLY THE SPOCK THING!”

Whereas Tracey really doesn’t seem to care about anything but war for its own sake. He knows now that his master plan for immortality was nothing the whole time...but he still needs to call those Yangs.

In other words, another once-reputable figure of authority now gone mad.

Kirk’s voice is so casual when he’s talking to Uhura and Sulu, you feel like he’s gotta have something up his sleeve. He can never hide when he’s really upset about something.

...Apparently what he had up his sleeve was his crew knowing regulations and then another full body tackle. Fight scene 3!

"My need for attention is vital.” Same, Spock.

This is a very attenuated and unbelievable connection Kirk is making but he’s Kirk so I’ll assume it makes sense that he’s putting it all together so fast.

Alternate Universe: Vietnam canon-divergence lol.

For anyone keeping track, this is right about the point where the episode goes off the rails.

YOU’RE A ROMANTIC, JIM. Well he’s right about that at least and he should say it.

Oh no, an American flag.

Cloud William, chief and the son of chiefs. That’s continuity of government for you.

(Also pretty hilarious that this society is supposedly So American with our exact flag and Constitution and everything... but they’re not a democracy.)

I really don’t want to believe that “under God” is still in the pledge 200 years from now.

"You're confusing the stars with heaven." Kirk thinks he's being called an angel.

The absolute mishmash of meaningless, referent-free words here. America. Native Americans. Communists. The flag, the Constitution. God. Angels. Devils. What???

Like how can they both be flag worshippers AND...believers in God? Who is their God? Alien George Washington?

So rude to call Spock Kirk’s “servant.” That’s his space husband!

Is that a literal picture of Spock as a demon in their.. Bible?

I can’t even follow this anymore.

“You command him.” I mean...yes, that’s how the military works.

“He has no heart.” Wow, rude.

“His heart is different!” I stan one (1) Southern Doctor.

I feel like Spock is just... not having this at all. His face loos like he’s thinking what I’m thinking.

Oh no is that the CONSTITUTION??!

“Kill his servant” wow Tracey is obsessed with Spock, isn’t he? I guess everyone in the Fleet knows about them and their special relationship.

Spock is even amused by the knife at his throat. His eyes say "I am distressed--but fascinated!"

A FOURTH fight scene? And here I thought Kirk was going to recite the Constitution.

“I’m open to suggestions.” He’s just as worried about Kirk as McCoy is, bu the doesn’t show it.

...Yep, he’s being telepathic again. Not really in line with his usual telepathy but okay. Alien magic is flexible.

Okay I have a JD and I can confidently say there is nothing about good defeating evil in the Constitution.

And now this alien guy is immediately ready to make himself a “slave.” That seems problematic. What happened to the holy word “Freedom”?

Wow, Kirk's in a bad mood. "You can't pronounce your own holy words worth shit."

“This is only for the eyes of a Chief,” he says and Kirk just pushes him away.

Spock literally turns Tracey around for Kirk’s big final speech like “Listen up, bitch, my boyfriend’s talking.”

Is this the 4th of July episode?? Feels like there should be canons and fireworks going off behind him rn.

Idk, the words of the Constitution can't be so unique and unprecedented if a WHOLE OTHER ALIEN CIVILIZATION just came up with them, too, on their own, like monkeys typing Hamlet. (Given the timelines here... they probably did it first too lol.)

"Liberty and freedom need to be more than just words." Like what does that even mean in this context? Sounds nice but it’s very hard to put into the context of all the rest of this.

“And uh be nice to the Kohms,” after most of them (?) were probably just killed.

I really was into this until the last 10-15 minutes and I think there were under-explored concepts that could have taken the fever dream of whatever that bizarre-o fever dream at the end was. The abandoned ship. The leftovers of bio warfare. The whole weird and under-explained concept of immunity. The tragedy that so much was destroyed,, including but not limited to the whole Exeter crew, for no reason. What happened to Tracey to so destroy him--was it just greed? What about the “Prime” Directive? Is it important or not. They just leave at the end after (as Spock pointed out) doing quite a bit of their own meddling, even though meddling is allegedly the worst. Also, we know almost nothing about the Kohms at all. The “American” society clearly wasn’t democratic. Were the Kohms literally Communist?

I’m willing to accept a certain degree of alternate Earth scenarios--like Miri (though imo that was not a necessary component of that story) or Bread and Circuses, but this was too much. TOO unbelievable. And frankly unnecessary. You could do an allegory for alternate-Vietnam, and it would be just as clear but even more effective. There wouldn’t be any distraction in the form of “what the fuck is that flag doing here?”

There is a potentially incendiary concept here, which is the same one I thought of reading about actual COG plans--certain aspects of the Yanks’ culture survives, but with absolutely no meaning attached. They have a Constitution but they mispronounce all the words. They have this tattered flag but it has no other meaning. They’ve turned the symbols of the government into a religion, but they don’t practice any of the civil aspects of it--they have chiefs, not democratically appointed leaders, for example. Like, COG asks “what IS the country, and how do you make sure the country endures no matter what?” This was an opportunity to show the worst of that: the country continues to exist as symbology only--incredibly strong symbology, but only that--and all of the actual values that were supposed to be stored with that symbology have disappeared. Similarly, their hatred of their enemies endures. It’s lauded in the ep as their attempt to get “their land” back but what if it’s just war for its own sake, as Tracey seems to be engaging in? To tell that story, especially in the 60s, against the backdrop of Vietnam, and with the references to bio warfare and nuclear warfare, could be powerful. And I know TOS can work in metaphor and comparison. It doesn’t need to bring out a literal fucking flag.

Honestly, it was like they had one good, classic, sci fi story but it didn't fill 52 minutes so they tacked on the American Pride 4th of July Propaganda Extravaganza at the end.

It really felt like the lesson was “America good” lol.

I liked the concept of the post apocalyptic society in the aftermath of bio warfare as a cautionary tale for 1960s America, and I'd be up for crazed snake oil salesman Starfleet Captain (or...whatever his rank was) if it were a bit better explained. But the rest of it....

It also... could have been kinda incendiary with the idea that the Constitution and flag are religious symbols... I mean some people do treat them that way and I've always found that, first, blasphemous, and second, bizarre in such a hyper-Christian country. But I feel like instead of digging ito that, they just tempered it with "But also they're Christian, as you can tell by their drawing of devil!Spock, for some reason."

Idk, this story could have been complete with out the whole weird “Vietnam AU” back story or alternately it could have been a biting commentary about what defines America, and about whether or not our symbols might be more enduring--or even more important to people today??--than the laudable but more complex and difficult ideals that underpin the country’s founding. Are the words of the Constitution just gobbledy gook? They are if you don’t live by them, and America has always struggled to do that. It definitely would struggle even more in the aftermath of an apocalypse.

...I’m more annoyed now, thinking about the possible sci fi story that could have been...

Anyway next is an ep I’m fairly sure I haven’t  seen, so that should be fun.

[iphoenixrising]

hey we haven’t heard anything from you in a while. everything good? How’s life treating you? All my love for one of my favorite batfam writers!💗💗💗

Hi babe.

Ah sorry, I’ve been super busy at work and with kiddo :( I mean, I’m still writing when I can, but it’s just time and motivation. My project has really taken off (reads as: expanded) and most nights I’m chipping away at the massive amount of documentation for not only a Java-based framework, but an entire Platform *sob* So, it’s just such a huge amount of old articles and brainstorming sessions and meeting minutes and just ugh. I mean, it’s kind of interesting to try tracking all these things down and figuring out how they’re going to work together since the developers (from 12 to 50-ish, my God and now they want me to read markdown and do pull requests for comments and shit because this is my fucking life) are still working on the platform services, the development environment, and all these fucking tools I’ve never heard of (Kubernetes, wtf is this thing??) so I’m learning a foreign language almost tbh.

Did I mention *sigh*?

ANYWAY, also some of the things I’m working on that are like Batfam are a little more...I dunno, just things that a bit harder for me I guess, but even if I write just a sentence or two, I still count it as a win.

But like...I said something about a Sentinel / Guide Au, and even though I’m at what would be a good stopping point, I’m not very happy with it :/ So, if you’d like to see kind of what I’ve been doing, I’m going to throw down what I’ve got below the cut. 

Warnings: 

DickTim, Angst

Sentinel/Guide Au

**

After he brings B back from time, send the Dark Knight back to Gotham, he gives in to things long overdue, and trains with Shiva–

–to be an effective Guide.

Years of suppressants made it literally hell without them, trying to keep his shields up, trying to push out the telepathic traffic suffocating him the second he opens up just a crack.

Shiva, of course, had been her cheerfully murderous self, plying him with the full onslaught of a powerful Sentinel.

"You will be drawn to us from now on, Little Bird. You will want to protect us, bring us back from the abyss. If you choose to allow your powers as a Guide rein free, then you must learn to fight against the urges."

The fucked-up part is–

–she's right.

If he wants to stay in the life, wear the cape and cowl under the new name, go back to the Titans (since they've been looking for him again, fly-bys and searches for his tech), then he needs to learn how to deal with what he can do and how to deal with the instincts that come along for the ride.

It's not enough that Shiva is in the middle of hunting down a few former students ("They have made...the wrong choices." 

"That's rich coming from you, you know."

"We all have a code, Little Bird, and I am no different.")

but they managed to run into a few other Sentinels along the way.

He'd like to say he'd taken his ass beating like a pro at this juncture in the vigilante game, but the reality is, they'd had to take shelter in a shitty lean-to, so he could be tragically, metaphysically hung-over.

He gives up the cowl and suit, utility belt and sundries. He goes as a wrecked teenage American boy, changing it up from the last time he trekked behind Lady Shiva and took on her adversaries. He tries not to think about Dick or Jason, Dami or Alfred, tries not to think about the confused look on B's face in his safe house, drying his hair after a long shower, trying to readjust to the current timeline.

("You aren't going back to Gotham?"

"I still have things to do."

"...there's something you aren't telling me."

"There's a lot I'm not telling you."

"Come to me when you're ready, Tim. No matter what, you're always going to be one of my Robins.")

Instead, he learns how to keep himself, and the Sentinels around him, safe and sane while trying to stay two steps ahead of the next fight, the next clue, the next "training."

In Shanghai a few months later, he knows it's time to move on when people part ways for the brightly clad superheroes coming en-masse down the packed street for him.

Well, moving on it is.

Going back to the Tower, away from the Bats and Gotham and the Rogue Gallery (thinking about facing the Joker this raw and open is fucking terrifying), was the best he was going to get considering the circumstances.

Those circumstances being the pointed twitch over Kon's eye and Bart's very intense gaze.

"You were supposed to call, asshole. The OG Batman has been back in Gotham for like months and you've just been, you know, chilling with Lady Shiva?"

Tim, who is so out of bullshit at this juncture, feels better after a hot shower and some old sweats with a Superboy t-shirt, throws up his fucking hands.

"All right, fine. I never told anyone. I...I've been on suppressants since I was a kid, just like my mom. Guides..."

"It's not that bad anymore!" Cassie tries helplessly, the first to actually reach across the table for his hand.

The instant connection makes them both gasp. It’s a shallow one, just a dip under her natural shield (he knows it’s Cissy, the Guide that’s been helping her until now, bringing her back whenever she hits a Zone, recognizes the touch of their Arrowette), just a skim over her immediate emotions  this thing now untried and how utterly calm he makes her just by hands lightly placed. 

"O-ooh," is soft while his fingers tighten, his eyes sharpen, his shields constructing around her, his instinct to protect.

"Not necessary," Gar chimes in, still leaning against the door between the kitchen and communal entertainment room, "we're all good in the Tower, T."

Is what shakes him out of it, hastily pulling away from Cassie's hand.

"Wow." Wonder Girl breathes out, eyes soft and half-mast, looking at him dreamily.

"Nope." Because he can already feel the headache coming on, how her hand tries to grab back at his.

“We could fight better together, Tim!”

“Do you even know how strong a Guide has to be to take care of four Sentinels?”

In one terribly creepy singular move, Bart, Kon, Gar, and Cassie give him that look.

You know, aimed at his face.

"No one," Bart cuts in, eyes wide at the exchange, of Tim's aura warm and inviting suddenly stronger, reaching out... "Tim, T. No one has to know."

The flash of fear, a residual from the tunic, makes him hedge back a subtle step back.

Kon pointedly grips him by the bicep, over his shirt while Bart moves enough that his shoulder bumps into Tim’s ribs, halting the possible escape attempt.

“Okay, okay, backing off. New powers are about a bitch, not like we all haven’t been there once or twice.” Kon soothes over, taking small steps and tugging until Tim is moving with him closer to the communal kitchen where his seat is empty at the island, and they can possibly get proof the guy actually eats.

“Amen,” Cassie throws up a hand and is already digging through the fridge until she finds–

–the last grape Zesti.

Tim’s eyes narrow dangerously on that singular can, his body moving before his brain can take over because he’s sliding on his old chair, the can cold against his fingers, too thirsty for caffeine that he can’t even.

Sure, it’s a trap, but with these guys, at least he knows it.

“I’m very not ready to do anything remotely Guide-like in the field,” the soft ca-saaaa as the can opens. “You want me to sleuth, fight, and strategize, then I’m all for it.”

Bart is just suddenly in Kon’s usual seat beside him, spinning around in tight, fast circles, “you mean you’re thinking about coming back? To the life?” 

“Dude, that would be stellar.”

Tim side-eyes his besties, “it was never in the plan to-to stop.”

“Can’t blame us for assuming, you know,” Gar grins toothily, “no Red Robin for a while, my dude.”

Tim goes quiet, staring down at the can between his hands, shoulders hunched over.

“At least,” Raven’s voice is smooth and soft, comforting, “tell us why now, Tim?”

“Why now?”

“Why begin training as a Guide now?” She clarifies, sliding into the seat across from her, and the coolness of her aura, not a Sentinel, but something purely Raven puts his frayed nerves at ease, makes it easier for him to find the words.

“I turned 18,” and he can’t look at them while he admits to it, “and...and I figured out who my Sentinel is after Ra’s kicked me out the window.” (I was fine going out that way. It was fine. I was saving Wayne Enterprises from the League of Assassins, I was fighting the good fight. It shouldn’t have happened that way...why did it have to happen that way?)

“Oh,” and Cassie’s eyes get huge.

“Ra’s al Ghul is your Sentinel?!” Bart fairly screams.

“No dude,” Tim rolls his eyes and finds his can suddenly fascinating. “It’s...Dick. He’s...yeah. It’s him.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Kon hurries, standing shock-still, “I didn’t hear any of that.”

“Not him,” Bart is gritting his teeth because dammit, why couldn’t Tim have been his Guide? The universe was totally, wholly unfair.

A muscle in Tim’s jaw flexes, his nose pinkening along his upper cheekbones. He blinks watery eyes, takes a deep, deep breath to try and keep himself under control. 

“Yeah,” and Tim sighs a little, the ache in his chest more acutely painful when he thinks about that moment waking up in the Cave, Dick in the Batsuit without the cape/cowl combo smiling down at him, still painfully unaware of the connection drawn tight between them.

(He doesn’t need me. He’s got Babs and Dami. His Guide and his Robin.)

Getting the absolute fuck out of the Manor had been his first order of business once he’d come to, just sprouting whatever placating bullshit Dick needed to hear to let him go without much of a fight (this time).

Finding Bruce and staying the hell out of Gotham hadn’t helped the pull he inexplicably felt, or the pressure of minds around him that had sent him to Shiva in the first damn place. His Guide abilities were overcoming the suppressants, so he was out of time...and out of options. 

Still, even with the training, he occasionally has the dreams at night. Not the usual array of awful nightmares from his real life, Jason shooting him in the chest at point-blank to make sure the job gets done this time, Bruce dying right before his eyes, turning into that skeleton husk Superman brought to them thinking it was the real thing, Damian sneering at him with the katana held high, spitting out how it’s time the real Robin took his rightful place just before bringing the blade down–

No, no, it’s even worse than those.

It’s shadowy hands touching him, the warm wet of a mouth over his skin and scars, gentle voice in his ear telling him how beautiful he is, how much he’s needed, wanted, how it’s not just because of what he is or what tunic he used to wear, it’s all because he’s Tim. He doesn’t wake up when his dream self realizes it’s Dick over him, those blue eyes taking him in, pinning his wrists down to look over every inch of his naked body. He doesn’t wake up when Dick starts preparing him. He doesn’t wake up when Dick kisses him hard and desperate. He doesn’t wake up when the tears dry on his face and their bodies line up.

“Mine,” his dream Sentinel doesn’t even hesitate, “Don’t ever run from me again. Do you understand me, Tim?”

Just before Dick pushes, he wakes up, panting and hard, his instincts going crazy enough that he has to meditate to calm down.

Cassie gently wraps her hand around his shoulder, making sure they don’t have skin-to-skin contact this time. “I’m sorry,” she smiles gently at his frown, “I know you and Dick have had some...issues in the past few years.” But he can read the guilt in her face. Back when everyone thought Bruce was dead and his cape had been yanked out from under him, Dick had sent Cassie to try talking some “sense” into him. She still feels awful for jumping on the same train everyone else had been riding, the ‘that guy is suffering from depression’ instead of believing he might actually be right. 

(It still stings though, doesn’t it?)

He doesn’t say anything back, just looks out one of the big windows and pulls out of her hold to take a drink of his Zesti.

“But,” Gar quickly jumps in, “you’ll stay in the Tower and fight on the team again, right? Like, no more trips with World’s Deadliest Assassins?”

Tim visibly hesitates, pausing with the can up to his mouth. 

Slowly, he lowers it, his eyes taking on a cold calculation that is and isn’t like their old Rob. “Like I said, I can’t be a Guide for anyone, and I mean that. Second, I told you the truth in confidence, so I expect everyone to keep my secret. Third, I’m not anywhere near ready to go to Gotham or face the Bats, so for now, I’m fighting under the radar. If those aren’t acceptable stipulations, I’ll grab some of my clothes from storage and be out of your Tower.”

“Storage?” Kon glances around at the team, “Tim, buddy, why do you think we’d have your stuff in storage?”

“I assumed Dick would already approach you about making Damian part of the team,” his tone is absolutely empty, emotionless. “And there’s no way both of us could be here at the same time, so...” he lets them put it together from there.

The look of utter devastation on Kon’s face makes him feel slightly better.

**

Coming back when Cassie, Bart, and Kon have his back, just like they were closer to the end of their YJ run, makes the transition easier than it realistically should have been.

And it really might just be how low the dose of suppressants are now, or that he feels comfortable stepping into Robin’s role on the team, just with a different name, a different mask. It might just be how Bart has a tendency to hover with that hummingbird energy coming off him even when he’s seemingly standing still, maybe it’s Kon’s TTK pressing at his back even if the guy is across the room, maybe it’s how he and Cassie have leadership meetings where they just binge watch reruns of Gossip Girl and eat ice cream to bemoan their woes. 

But maybe, it’s how he can feel them pulling at his shields unconsciously. Maybe it’s how he can sometimes push back enough, can skim just the edges to get impressions of angry, sad, depressed and gently erect a mental shield without delving deep without permission, can give them the space they need from their intense senses and powers. 

Just another way he can be the regular guy on the team, working under the radar. So much a part of his role in the first damn place. 

He doesn’t realize it becomes something normal until they take the good fight a little too close to Gotham for his liking, but the choices were few and Luthor is such an incredible ass hat that Tim actually plays it down, dresses up as CEO Tim Drake to divert their baddie while the team takes apart his latest weapon of mass destruction on the down-low.

What he absolutely doesn’t expect is to leave the lobby of one of the most posh restaurants in Metropolis–

And walk face-first into Dick Gryson’s chest.

(Technically, it’s Nightwing, but really, this doesn’t make the sitch any better.)

A hand, black with blue fingerstripes, covers his mouth, and the sound of a grapple retracting is a pending oh no that he doesn’t fight the vigilante pretty much kidnapping him off the street in broad daylight. 

He can only thank God it isn’t skin-to-skin contact because his inner senses are flaring this close to the Sentinel, his Sentinel, that he has to grind his back teeth to keep himself in check. He pulls away the second they land it on solid rooftop, shoving his sleeve back to check the team’s status on his hidden wrist computer. 

Mission success! 

“Imagine my surprise,” Nightwing growls, hand on his shoulder to spin him around, “when I find you having lunch with someone like Lex Luthor instead of taking my damn calls, Timmy.”

Stepping out of that hold is subtle because Tim is looking over the side of the roof, adjusting his tie to try putting some distance between them. “I’m undercover. Those are the things people like us do when we’re running an Op, Nightwing.”

Those whiteouts narrow on him, a trick only Dick can really pull off effectively. “None of that tells me where the hell you’ve been for the last year since you left to find Bruce, found him, and didn’t come back.”

His back straightens, eyes looking away when the irritation and heat of anger hits him harder without the nice little cocktail of suppressants and stabilizers, makes his own shields tremble at the burning sear along the edges of his consciousness. 

Instead of saying something he might come to regret, Tim sucks in a breath through his nose and works through the bolt of pain, gathers his shields around himself to keep the Sentinel from unerringly lashing out at him again.

“What the hell are you even doing here? Recon on Luthor? For which nefarious plot?”

A black and blue hand slashes the space between them, “not even important, Tim. So, how about you call your team and tell them you’ve got some Bat business because we? Need to talk.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“You heard me. I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks.”

“I sent back your case files, asshole–”

“Not about cape and cowl shit, Tim!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about right now,” even though he does, he really does. He just doesn’t know why it has to happen now.

Nightwing, however, has had enough of the talk and with a whip of his arm has a bolo out and thrown, his natural speed as a Sentinel might be slower than someone like the Flash, but it still has Tim wrapped up tight faster than he can realistically dodge.

The sight of the vigilante Nightwing swinging through Metropolis with the CEO of Wayne Enterprises over one shoulder would be big news in the city if anyone had been bothered to really look up.

**

The hotel is nice Tim thinks while wiggling around on the bed where Dick pretty much dumped him. His fingers are already getting the bolo loose from around his upper body by the time Dick has the mask off and the Nightwing suit unzipped to flop around his waist.

The Gotham Knights t-shirt underneath is a new one since the old faded one got blown up in that little explosion in the ‘Haven a few years back.

Dick lifts and sets a chair down with a pointed clack, sitting down to watch Tim squirm his way up. He’s got the bolo loose enough to brace his palms.

“What part of I’m in the middle of an OP–”

“Don’t care,” Dick cuts him off ruthlessly, those blue eyes hard and jaw tense. “I honestly don’t give a crap about the Titans right now.”

“Well I sure as hell do thank-you very much,” Tim pulls the bolo off, tosses it across the room with an angry flick, facing his former mentor, former partner, former friend with those old feelings creeping up his throat to make the taste in his mouth coppery and bitter.

“The only thing I care about right now is that I finally caught up to you. The last time I even saw you was that swan dive–”

“I’m aware. Being kicked out of a window is pretty memorable, even for people like us,” he keeps it deadpan, keeps the anger and irritation, the feelings of shit like betrayal and it must have been so easy to throw me the fuck away.

“The point is, smart ass, you left the Cave and haven’t been back. You only answer my emails about cases and bad guys. But when I ask you to come back home, which I have, Tim, I don’t even know how many times, and I get nothing! We need you–”

“Why would I come back to Gotham for you?” Is what spills out of his mouth, something bitter and foul. “You’ve already got a fucking Robin to be your little brother, remember?”

Welp, there goes playing it cool.

But watching Dick jerk back like Tim had landed a physical blow was more satisfying than he wanted to admit.  

“Are you kidding me right now? You’re still angry about that? I’ve explained to you exactly why–”

The irritation in Dick’s tone, obvious disgust when he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest is just about enough.

“You explained it just fine. You made your choice, so everyone just has to deal with it, right? Yeah, that’s really being my equal.” 

Tim makes himself stay deadly calm and cold, moves his legs away from Dick’s to stand and take a few steps away from the seething Sentinel to adjust his tie and try to get his hands to quit trembling. 

“I can’t believe you’re acting this childish, Tim. I’m really disappointed with you right now.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, Dick, disappointed in each other,” but it strikes him anyway in the small, sad place where he held on to the hope they could still work everything out somehow and at least go back to being friends. A small part that’s been slowly dying in degrees, and that last hit is enough to make it so absurdly painful.

(All those years in the R, fighting the good fight, being brothers, having each other’s backs, and it all ends here, doesn’t it?)

“What? I did everything I could do for you! I–”

“If that’s what you want to believe, then that’s fine. I don’t have any reasons to argue with you,” staring at his own reflection in the mirror, seeing the red start to creep over his cheeks, his eyes get overly shiny, Tim Drake straightens his spine and flexes his own shields. 

He keeps himself together enough to turn on a heel and walk calmly to the door.

“Tim, just...okay, just wait. Let’s talk this out–”

He doesn’t even turn, hand already on the knob, just pulls open the door and takes a hasty step through. It’s only the first step, but Dick is still just suddenly there, trying to snatch at Tim’s wrist with a bare hand, managing the brush of fingertips over a pulse.

“Don’t leave like this,” Is the last thing Dick says before the electric shock slides up his spine, the pull to all his senses almost has him on his knees.

The touch has Tim lurching away, jerking his wrist up to cradle against his chest, the red burn of Dick’s emotions beating at his shields harder with just a simple graze.

It ends with Dick still in the doorway, braced against the frame, gaping, and Tim leaning heavily into the wall across the hall, a wince on his face.

Stupid metaphysical connections and shit.

The touch hadn’t been enough to, you know, like bond them or anything, but it’s widely believed True Pairs didn’t even have to touch to get impressions from one another.

“You asshole,” he seethes at that shocked expression. 

“You feel like I betrayed you,” is low and thick, Dick’s eyes a little dazed with what he picked up through the momentary connection, “it hurt you so much when I made Dami my Robin because I didn’t even talk to you, I didn’t trust you. You think I just threw you out of my life. How could I ever do that to you...?”

If Tim was a better Guide, on a higher dose of suppressants, he would have been able to keep himself closed off enough that if they did manage to touch, he could have kept Dick out of his shields, wouldn’t have given him the ability to skim over shitty emotions.

If Tim was a better Guide, he wouldn’t have the urgent need to run.

But welp, here they are.

As the thought takes shape in his brain pan, that he’s in his civilian day-ware and can run down the hall while Dick –still half in Nightwing– is trapped in the doorway, his knees firm and his eyes dart wildly to the side, giving himself away.

And since Dick was Batman, is Nightwing, is a Sentinel, he sees the writing on the wall and absolutely refuses to let it happen. Dick shoves with his arms, darts out into the hallway, makes his suddenly weak knees work enough to shake up Tim’s plan, seizes the apparent Guide, his Guide, in a princess hold and get back before the door even starts to close.

“Put me–!”

But Dick folds his legs to sit with his back against the door, and wraps both arms around the struggling third Robin. He can hold onto Tim better than a bolo anyway. 

The push at Tim’s shields is a pressure he isn’t used to dealing with, and it’s painful to fight against it rather than just let the tentative connection open. His hands curl into fists in his lap, trying to strain against the arms pinning him while concentrating on strengthening his shields. 

He doesn’t realize he’s whispering, “no, no, no,” under his breath. 

“Please,” Dick lays his forehead down on top of Timmy’s head, “please don’t go. Not now. I’m finally...Tim, I get it now. I swear, I get it.”

“...doesn’t matter. Too late.”

“That isn’t fair,” the smallest shift and Dick is breathing against his throat, making him shiver, “I just found out you’re...a Guide. My Guide. We haven’t even started yet. It can’t be too late if we haven’t had a beginning.” It gets worse when Dick breathes in his scent deeply, a noise coming out of his chest.

“We have had a beginning,” he bites out, fists tight, concentrating on keeping his shields strong but flexible, “we’ve had years–”

“And I’m not ready to throw all of that away.”

The pressure against his mental shields finally eases up as Dick raises his head, gives him a little shake to make him look up. 

“You already did, remember?”

“I didn’t... I never threw you away. That’s not what I meant or wanted. Yes, I should have handled things better. I know that now, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I was sorry before, I just didn’t know how to tell you, how to make it better between us.”

Tim’s eyes narrow, and he doesn’t let up in case this is one of those diversionary tactics to put him in a false sense of security. 

(They fight bad guys. Sometimes, they have to cheat, and he wouldn’t put it past Dick to do just that.)

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen here,” he finally tries, staring up into those blue, blue eyes (I trusted you once, and fuck if I’m going to let you do this to me again). “But whatever it is, you’re wrong. I’m not going to come back to Gotham and be your Guide. I’m not going to bond with you because the universe says I’m meant to be some kind of magical counterbalance.”

Dick’s expression crumples, his arms go a little slack. 

“Tim, we’re...we’re a True–”

“I don’t give a fuck about True Pairs, Dick, not anymore. Babs has been your Guide since you both presented. She wants the job, she can damn well have it.”

It’s not a fight to push against Dick’s arms the second time and stand up out of his lap.

“You’ve loved me since the moment you put on the cape, Tim. I know you have.” When what he means is I know now.

“I loved you before that, you asshole, and you betrayed me. You don’t get that chance again.”

Turning away shouldn’t be this easy now that Dick knows the truth, but it is, and the very last parts of him still hoping, still craving, are just as easily–

–wiped out.

Dick’s eyes are watery when the door hisses and creaks upon opening, and it’s an automatic thing, reaching a hand up just expecting Tim to take it.

“Tim. Timmy, please.”

“Good-bye, Dick,” is already fading with rapidly retreating footsteps. At least he can keep some of his dignity because Dick will never know he falls the fuck apart as the elevator goes down.

**

Author’s notes:Here’s why I don’t like this: 1. I want to talk more about why Tim chose Shiva as the Sentinel to teach him how to be a good Guide. Like, I want to explore that dynamic more because I’ve never really had the time or space to write Shiva as we see her in Tim’s Robin run.2. I wanted to go more into the expanded senses of Sentinels and how to - hell, I dunno, make it seem to be a little closer to cannon maybe? Like point out some of Dick’s greatest escapes and be like part of that is due to his Sentinel power. 3. Dick says some shitty things, and I don’t give him any context. Like, at that point, he legit believes he did the right thing at the time, and look! Tim’s Red Robin so everyone wins! But yeah, once he got under those shields, the truth shakes him up. 4. I dunno, this au might not be for me. It doesn’t feel very different from some of my other angsty things I guess but meh. Who knows, I might fix it someday :D 

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter 29: A Walk of Shame Looks Good on You

A/N: Hi, friends! Look, I'm sitting here waiting for bleach to process, so I got a little time to kill. But before we get into anything fun, we need to take care of some business first. Nothing bad. It's just a little housekeeping before I leave for Michigan.

I know I said you'd be taken care of while I'm gone. Well, I lied. I thought you'd be taken care of, but I'm going to be away from my computer and away from my desk and you're going to have to wait a couple weeks until the next update, ok? I hope that's alright with you. I really did try, guys. I tried my damnedest. So, we'll be back in August. I promise. And I love you x

I’m pretty sure I left Veronica in capable hands. At least I sure as hell hope so. Once my shift came to an end, I wanted nothing more than to go home and crash. Granted, I knew I’d be up half the night, worrying about Veronica and hoping she made it home ok, but I’m sure she’ll be alright. If all else fails, she can kick ass with the best of them. And Tessa didn’t seem like the type to steal one of Veronica’s kidneys. I hope things work out with those two.

All I wanted now was to go home and crash, though. It’s been a long ass day. And a long ass night. And all I wanted was my bed. That sounded downright heavenly. And maybe a drink or two. Just a little something, something to cap off the night. It’s not like I got to have one with the Old Man. I was busy working the bar. Even though I wasn’t technically supposed to. But I digress. Still, a drink sounded nice. Both my brothers had their vices. César smoked like a chimney and I’m not sure how legal Tony’s vices were. I knew he kept them in the house, but I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I don’t think he even knew I knew.

Once I got home, I went straight into the bedroom and fell into my bed without a sound. Good. I could use about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. But I knew better than that. I took a quick hit from the tequila bottle and shut my eyes. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t just get that twelve hours of sleep, but I’d have something better in place of my body pillow. But I knew that wasn’t happening. Unless one of my brothers were stupid enough to try and be my little spoon. We were close, but we weren’t that close.

The next morning, I woke up to an empty house. Tony and César weren’t in their beds. Mama had already left for work. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. The world was my oyster. At least this time, I didn’t wake up wanting to walk into oncoming traffic, so I got that going for me. And even with this new lease on life (despite me still wishing like hell that Vanessa as on the next flight home), I needed a way to kill the day before I had to go play in the Narrows.

Breakfast? Maybe I start with breakfast. And it happens to be eleven o’clock. I knew where I could get the best breakfast in the city. Just down the block. I threw my shoes on and headed toward that beautiful, bright green oasis in the middle of this concrete jungle. Dios los bendiga…I’m home. Well, I’d always feel at home in the city I loved, but this? This seemed a little more like home than I could’ve ever anticipated in my life.

“Buenos dias, niño!” Abuela greeted me. And right there. Right there was the cure for what ailed me. If only I had the energy to come here yesterday morning. Maybe I wouldn’t have been in the funk I’ve been in since a flight left JFK for Rome yesterday morning. But I digress. I still had Abuela.

“Morning,” I melted inside.

“Regular order then?” she assumed.

“Si, por favor,” I nodded, “And uh…You know how you’ve been making my horchata with…”

“Espresso in your horchata,” Abuela knew me all too well, “Of course, Frankie. I can tell when you had a rough night. I’m not going to ever say no to you and you should know better than to even think I would.”

“Sorry, Abuela,” I giggled a bit. Yep. This woman would always be the cure for whatever ailed me. In this case, it’s depression and a certain kind of homesickness I’ve never had before.

“It’s alright, mijo,” she let it go, “You seem off. And not like you went out with Tony and César last night and came home an hour after closing time. Is everything alright?”

“It’s been better,” I brushed her off, “But nothing you need to worry about.”

Because that was for me to worry about. I didn’t need to put that burden on Abuela’s shoulders. As good as a vent would probably do me, she didn’t need that. And I didn’t really feel like getting into it. Abuela had enough to take care of. And I needed a distraction more than anything. That’s half the reason why I liked coming here. I watch Abuela carefully craft my newborn baby burrito with love while I get to throw down horchata. Occasionally, I get some words of wisdom from her. It’s a good time. Besides, this food truck had more than just Abuela memories attached to it. It had…

BAM!

I felt a tiny pair of arms wrap around my waist and a face in the middle of my back, “We really need to stop running into each other like this, Frankie.”

Gracias a dios, she made it home ok. And I’m assuming with both kidneys. There’s the other memories Abuela’s food truck has…It’s where it all began again. If I never would’ve met the little spazz at my hip, who knows if I would’ve gotten my second shot with her sister? But I don’t know…I think I like her sister. Just a little bit. And…Well…She’s not too bad either. I spun Veronica around and got a decent look at her. And she looked like hell, but in the best way.

“Let’s see,” I teased her a bit, “Last night’s clothes, hair a mess, a hoody that does not belong to you, smudged mascara under your eyes…What? No broken heel, Veronica?”

“No,” Veronica rolled her eyes, “You’re mixing me up with my sister again, Frankie. That’s a Vanessa thing. I don’t wear heels. More of a platform leather boots type myself, but that’s just me.”

“Still,” I threw an arm around her, “Walks of shame look cute on you, Veronica.”

“Last night was fun,” Veronica leaned on me, stilling a drink from my horchata, “I fucking owe you.”

“For what?” I giggled, “I didn’t do anything.”

“My ass, you didn’t!” she squealed, “Dude, it’s not every day someone like Tessa walks into a bar that I just happen to be at for the night. That kind of serendipity doesn’t happen for someone like me.”

“I’d be careful about whose love story you’re poking at there, Veronica,” I argued, “Because…Uh…Didn’t we meet because of a relationship that started that very same way?”

“We met right here,” Veronica reminded me, “Because someone was too chicken shit to call Vanessa on his own and needed a wingman.”

“Call last night me paying you back,” I threw a ten on the window, “Abuela?”

“Si, Frankie?” she popped out, “Necesitas algo?”

“She does,” I ordered for her, “Before she slurps down all of my horchata.”

“I’m a thirsty bitch,” Veronica shrugged, “Sue me.”

“Gladly.”

“I got dibs on Vanessa.”

“Dammit…” I grumbled to myself, “Alright. I respectfully withdraw and I’ll just be over here doing other things. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re just mad she’d represent me first,” Veronica laughed.

“And Abuela,” I added, “If you wanted to add extra spit to her taquitos, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Francisco!” Abuela snapped, “No! Sabes que nunca lo haría!”

“It’s a joke,” I backed off, “Just a little joke. A little ha, ha. Sorry…I know you wouldn’t.”

“Es verdad…” Abuela wrapped my burrito up and got started on Veronica’s taquitos, “Honestly, Frankie…I’m disappointed.”

“It’s alright, Abuela,” Veronica let it go, “I knew he meant it with love.”

“So,” I wondered, “What happened after you and Tessa left the Narrows?”

“We went out,” Veronica’s face lit up, “There’s a club about five blocks down from her apartment building. Her band played!”

“I didn’t know she was in a band.” But I could tell she at least played by the state of her fingers.

“I didn’t either until last night,” she swooned, “And she’s damn good at it! I’ve never seen someone jam like that. She’s much better than any of the local bands around here. Hell, at one point, I didn’t think she even needed the rest of the band. She was amazing on her own. But it’s more than just that. You should’ve seen it, Frankie. She’s…She’s too cool for me. I know I’m a pretty cool bitch, but she’s even cooler than I am.”

“Shut up,” I settled her, “There’s no way.”

“It’s true!” Veronica went on, “When we went back to her apartment, she showed me this big, beautiful bong that she blew herself! And it was so fucking pretty. It was probably a couple feet long, but it was black and hot pink and a neon green and this really pretty smoky electric blue and I have never wanted something more in my life. Dear god, it’s gorgeous. We burned one and went to sleep. No sex, no nothing. Just…Neither one of us wanted to sleep alone and Tessa wasn’t going to make me go back home. So, we didn’t. So, I laid there with her and…Frankie, I almost cried. It felt so fucking nice for a change.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, kiddo,” I kissed the top of her head, “And I’m glad I could help. But like I said. You helped me get Vanessa. Why shouldn’t you get Tessa, too?”

“I appreciate it,” Veronica threw her arms around me, “Seriously, Frankie…I’ve never had a serious girlfriend before. I’ve had casuals, but never anything serious.”

“Are you already thinking serious?” I gasped.

“Kind of…” a quick flash of red brushed across her cheeks, “But I don’t need your judgment, Mr. I’ve known Vanessa for six months and I damn near proposed to her the other night.”

“I never said there was any sort of judgment,” I assured her, grabbing her order from the window, “Gracias, Abuela.”

“De nada, cariño,” Abuela smiled, “Please. Go on. This is the most excitement I’ve gotten all morning. I’m invested.”

“I need to be getting home,” Veronica winced, “Before I end up playing into Victoria’s kidnapping fantasies, too.”

“Alright,” I hugged her tight, “And again, my offer still stands.”

“I know,” she nuzzled into me, “If Victoria becomes too much for me to handle and I can’t suppress the urge to choke her anymore, I know where you live. I know where you sleep. I know where you work when you’re working legit. And I’m more than welcome any time I want.”

“That’s my girl,” I kissed her forehead, “I love you, Veronica.”

“I love you, too, Frankie.” Don’t get me wrong. I love Vanessa dearly. But damn, having Veronica here is going to be a major help to my psyche while she’s gone. Mostly because I don’t think Veronica’s going to let me be depressed and beat myself up for letting Vanessa go to Italy. That wasn’t my decision to make. Hell, it was barely hers. Because there’s no way this doesn’t reek of Victoria’s meddling.

Instead of getting pissed like I probably should, I reveled in the fact that she was getting a whole different life experience. And if anyone could relate to what that experience was, it’d be me. My first time in Spain in my cognitive memory was the weirdest culture shock. I had grown up in New York. I knew nothing about life there except from what Mama and my brothers told me. But I had nothing firsthand. Until I was processing everything at four years old. Getting on the plane, making a layover in London, wondering why the hell everyone talked so weird. It’s not that I didn’t know the language. Mama made damn sure of that. To the point where I remember her bitching at Tony or César for speaking to me in English.

But Vanessa wasn’t dealing with Spain. Vanessa was in Italy. I didn’t even know if she was there yet. She had to be. Unless she had that same layover last a little longer than what she’d like. Than what I’d like. But they happen. It’s not like we had control over that. Still, I went home to an empty apartment and thumbed through the TV, hoping there’d be something on. Something to hold my attention long enough while I ate. I mean, Willow was on, but I’d rather not watch Willow for the millionth time just because it was on.

Ring, ring.

Huh…It’s not often the phone rings. I got up from the couch and grabbed it, just to shut it up, “Bueno…”

“Buona sera, amore mio…” a soft, husky voice greeted me on the other end. And I’m not too proud to admit I damn near broke down, “Quanto mi manchi così…”

“Vanessa…?” I could hardly get her name out of my mouth.

“Hi, baby…” her voice broke a bit. It’s good to know I’m not alone here, but that was one of the worst sounds in the world. I couldn’t tell if those were tears of joy or tears of pain. I’m going to go out on a limb, cross my fingers, and say it’s joy.

“Fuck, it does my heart good to hear your voice again,” I gushed, “Are you alright? You doing ok?”

“Ok as I can be, I suppose,” Vanessa reported, “I mean…It’d be nice if I was there with you, but…”

“I know, I know,” I settled her, “Can’t get what we want. But look on the bright side. We got this.”

“Yeah, we do…” I swear to God, I heard a smile in that girl’s voice. And in that moment, I knew everything was going to be ok.

[fairie-gothmother]

In The Shadow of Starlight, Part 7: Bandit Lyfe

First Part: The Fall 

Previous Part: Gut Instincts

Troy groaned in pain and anger. If every return trip from Sanctuary was going to involve being jammed into a drop pod, they’d better be few and far between. He cursed Lilith for not allowing him to sync with their New-U stations. Immediately after landing at the Crimson Raider base, the old Lieutenant ordered Troy to stay in his room, which had further soured his mood. 

Troy was restless, irritated and still buzzing with energy. He flopped onto the bed, closed his eyes, and attempted to get a grip on himself.

Knock knock.

“What?” Troy snapped.

A gravelly voice called, “I had a feeling that was you in the drop pod.” Raz slipped inside the room. After taking one look at Troy sprawled out on bed, he added, “You look like hell.”

“You’re lucky I’m too sore to get up and strangle you,” Troy threatened half-heartedly, rubbing his aching neck. 

"I take it you didn't have much luck with the scientist," Raz guessed.

The Calypso sighed. "Nope. Managed to get a little extra gas in my tank, though. Long story," Troy indicated by waving his glowing hand before placing it over his eyes.

“Well, now. I’d say that’s cause for celebration. How about I offer you a drink to lift your spirits?”

“Aren’t you on probation?” Troy asked.

“Technically, yes. But what the higher ups don't know won’t hurt ‘em. Or would you rather be a good little Crimson Raider and stay put?” Raz winked and beckoned toward the door.

In response, Troy threw a pillow past Raz’s head hard enough for it to burst into a puff of feathers. 

Raz pulled a feather from his beard. “Hmph. Not even Octavia needed this much convincing. Suit yourself.” With a shrug, he turned to leave.

Troy lowered the second pillow he was about to chuck at his ex-general. “And you left her alone with drunk bandits?” The Calypso jumped up from the bed. He hadn’t taken two steps before he caught the suspicious looks Raz shot at him. Troy wasn’t in the mood. “Alright, you win. I need to blow off some steam anyway.” He shouldered past the shorter man, and they both made their way across the compound.

~~~

Octavia accepted the bottle of rakk ale Raz offered. “Music and booze? Did you happen to organize something that Lieutenant Cramer wouldn’t approve of?” 

“Cramer isn’t invited.” Raz opened his own bottle of ale and clinked it against hers. “Welcome to your first bandit bash.”

The ex-bandit recruits had managed to transform the small lot behind the Crimson Raider compound into a convincing outdoor pub. They handed out drinks and gathered around a bonfire while a radio played upbeat rock music. 

Even Troy had joined in on the event. Octavia hadn’t seen him since he passed out in the medical room, which had been tense and awkward. She ran her gaze over him, careful not to linger long enough to be caught staring. He had his swagger back, siren marks glowing brightly. Once everyone was confident that he wasn’t going to slaughter them, Troy became the life of the party. He was a god among bandits, after all.

Octavia wasn’t sure what she expected, but hanging with bandits was enjoyable. The burn of alcohol in the back of her throat was odd so early in the afternoon, even for a day off, but it was a welcome sensation. Her stress was melting away, emboldening her to let loose a bit. Today was just about having fun. And dammit, she deserved it.

As the day went on, Octavia had consumed enough liquid courage to unglue herself from Raz’s side. One of the younger bandit guys sat next to her at the bar. After some easy conversation and exchanging names, he declared her his new friend. She had unfairly stereotyped him as another blood thirsty idiot. He wasn’t particularly bright, but Octavia was warming up to him.

“And that’s why I don’t like stalkers. Those invisible assholes give me the creeps,” he said, slicking back his ash blonde hair.

Octavia swiveled in her chair to face him, bumping her knees against his in the close space. “So let me get this straight. You don’t think stalkers have tails, but instead have really long-”

“Of course! What else do you think that thing is for?”

“I think it’s just a tail, Collin,” Octavia laughed. 

Collin opened his mouth to argue further but was interrupted by a familiar gravelly voice. 

“Harassing the new girl already?” Raz had reappeared casually smoking at the bar beside them. 

Collin greeted him. “Did you know Octavia is gonna be working in the greenhouse? She-” Collin’s eyes widened when he noticed who was approaching. 

Troy Calypso glanced down at their knees touching with a slight raise of his eyebrows, making Octavia uncomfortable enough to scoot back. His mechanical arm reached across the bar to claim a bottle of liquor, then the Calypso turned back to the entourage following at his heels. Not staring was harder than it should have been. The way he relished in the spotlight with effortless charisma was mesmerizing. 

“What do you think, Octavia?”

Collin’s question pulled her out of her daze, and her face reddened when she realized she’d zoned out on the question.

“Um, sorry. What?”

Collin repeated, “Do you think you could get me in the greenhouse? I’d kill to get out of the shop. I keep trying to convince the foreman to let me make weapon prototypes.”

Raz butted in. “Ha! The last time you presented one of your prototypes, it blew up in your face. Literally. You singed both your eyebrows.” 

Collin sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah.” Then he held up both hands. “But I managed to keep all my fingers.”

“Real cute, punk,” Raz said, flipping the younger man half of a bird.

Octavia couldn’t help but chuckle at their banter. “Wow. You have all your teeth and fingers? Not bad for a bandit.”

Collin flashed an exaggerated smile, displaying all of his pearly whites.

The radio music changed to a poppy dance song. Collin’s face lit up. “Ooh, I love this song!” He jumped up from his seat and extended his hand. “Dance with me.”

Octavia didn’t have time to decline before she was pulled from her chair into the group of bandits dancing around the fire. Even with a buzz, she was not willing to embarrass herself on the dance floor. Collin had moves that put her stiff shuffling to shame. She appreciated his help giving her little spins and twirls. She prayed she could fake it well enough to get through the song.

She glanced around the area to see how many people were watching her make a fool out of herself. Her eyes wandered to Troy, who was basking in the attention of several bandits. Her stomach fluttered when one of the women leaned in closely and whispered into his ear.

“I need another drink,” Octavia said to her dance partner. 

~~~

This was how the Calypso twins spent most of their time in the early days of the Children of the Vault. Partying with their followers, dancing to whatever played on the radio, drinking cheap alcohol. The familiarity was comforting to Troy. The difference with today was the absence of his sister outshining him. 

“I always did like you more than Tyreen,” crooned a female admirer into Troy’s ear.

“Bullshit. You were a total God Queen simp,” said another girl. 

The first woman swatted at the other for calling her out. “You bitch, I only bought her merch because the color goes better with my eyes.”

The ex-God King flashed his golden fangs. “Ya know, that right there is considered false devotion. Do you know how I used to handle the falsely devoted?” he asked sweetly. When the woman shook her head, he placed two fingers of his siren hand beneath her chin and tilted her head to the side. “It meant you'd get your pretty little throat ripped out.”

The woman was so drunk that the threat went completely unrecognized. “Pretty?” she giggled.

Troy rolled his eyes as he released her. He took a swig from the bottle clenched in his mechanical fist. Although he missed having admirers, ones like this annoyed him. Even without his twin here, he still couldn't escape her shadow.

Troy slipped away from his entourage, snuck over to the bar, and told the man behind it to mix him a drink. Where was Raz? He wanted to give him shit for setting up a bar with no lime wedges. Looking toward the edge of the lot, he spotted Octavia sitting by the fence. A young, blonde pretty-boy was attempting to get her to her feet. She shook her head, and pretty-boy gave her a pat on the shoulder before returning to the fireside to dance. Troy ordered a second cocktail and walked over to her. 

“You look thirsty,” Troy said, holding the drink out to her. “I’d say my treat, but open bar and all.”

Octavia looked up in surprise and took the cup with an appreciative smile. “I’d say thanks, but open bar and all.” She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “What’s this?”

“Lemon Lime & Bullets. Minus the lime.” Troy threw his drink down in one gulp. He watched in amusement as Octavia fished out the bullet from her own cup with her finger. 

“I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to get on my good side,” she said slyly.

“Hm, am I? I guess that depends. Is it working?” he asked with a cocky grin.

“Maybe a little,” she said, taking another sip of her now ammunition-less cocktail.

He sat on the ground beside her, rested his back against the chain link fence, and nodded toward the dancing silhouettes a short distance in front of them. “Let me guess. You don’t dance.”

“It’s not my thing,” she said.

“Aw, come on. Let me teach you some moves. Only slightly provocative ones, I promise.”

She smiled. “Tempting, but I’ll pass.”

Troy huffed, “Alright, fine. You’re no fun. If you don’t dance and you don’t even fit in with these people, what are you doing here?”

Octavia was visibly bothered by the comment. He realized how shitty that sounded and rushed to rephrase. “I mean, it’s cool you’re here. I just don’t get it. There’s a lot I don’t get about you, witchdoctor.” He ruffled her hair with his siren hand.

She pushed his hand away and smoothed her hair back into place. Troy swore he saw a hint of pink in her cheeks. “I’m not sure myself. I never come to these kinds of things, but I guess I thought it might be fun.”

“Well, are you having fun?”

She looked up to meet his eyes. “Yeah. I think I am.” 

Maybe it was the alcohol or the extra energy in his body that was making his brain fuzzy, but in that moment Troy was certain what Octavia wanted. Anticipation hung in the air, along with the suspense that comes when someone flicks their eyes down to your lips and back. She tipped her head back, just enough to give him permission, and then-

A vibration from Troy’s pocket made him jump. “What the hell?” The Echo he’d nicked from Sanctuary nearly vibrated out of his pocket. There was a message.

//Unknown_User//: smile 4 the camera :)

The display automatically opened a live video feed showing a man and a woman sitting on the ground with their backs against a chain link fence. Troy recognized the back of his own head. Oh fuck.

“Boom time, heretics!” a voice shouted from behind.

Thinking fast, Troy grabbed Octavia and shielded her against the blast. The force from the explosion sent the two of them tumbling across the ground.

“Vi, you need to run.”

“B-but what-,” she squeaked. 

“Now!” he ordered, and she took off toward the base.

The fence had been blown open. Bandits and psychos were pouring inside, firing guns and swinging buzzaxes. Cambots floated through the air above, recording the onslaught.

“Alright then, party crashers. Let's dance.” Troy opened his mechanical hand, and his sword digistructed into his palm. A smile spread impossibly wide across his face until the jaw split open at the modified hinges. The God King slashed through the crowd, decapitating and disemboweling. He roared, shredding throats open with his jaws. Psychos screamed as he crushed their skulls in his mechanical hand. The popping of bone, the squishing of flesh, the warmth of blood. So much red. It was a rush of euphoria.

A cambot hovered overhead focused on Troy. The Calypso snatched up a bandit by the neck. “You assholes weren't invited,” he growled, somewhat garbled through his open jaws.

The bandit choked, “Tyreen will protect me...The Reaping... shall purge-” The rest was lost as neck tendons stretched and snapped until the bandit’s head was ripped off. Troy flung the severed head at the cambot, sending it spinning through the air.

Alarms sounded from the Crimson Raider base. Soldiers emerged from the building and joined the fight against the invaders. Across the lot, Raz shot at multiple cultists who were retreating with a large metal cage. Troy sprinted over to him. “Raz, it’s the Reaping.”

“I know. The bloody bastards are taking prisoners,” Raz yelled, reloading his rifle. 

More cages were being hauled outside the fence and loaded into COV vehicles. Troy gave chase, using the broad side of his blade to block the barrage of gunfire. He reached the nearest cage and slashed into the cultists. So much red. Troy pulled the door off the hinges and freed the Raider recruits inside. Another cage was nearby. 

“Let me go!” cried out the voice of Octavia. Her hands swung at her captors from within the bars.

Troy made a run for it. His blood boiled. Every single one of these fuckers was going to die. Everything he saw was red. Red. With his blade raised, prepared to carve these cultists into pieces, he was blindsided with a sucker punch to the face. The blow made him stumble.

Double images swirled in Troy’s vision until he shook it off. Before him stood a familiar white haired siren, wiping away specks of his blood from her knuckles. “Well, this is annoying. I thought you’d be dead by now, but here you are chumming it up with the Crimson Traitors,” said Tyreen.

Troy’s jaws clicked shut so he could properly articulate. “Guess you’re just getting sloppy. The God Queen must be losing her touch,” he snarled and lunged at Tyreen. She easily dodged him with a sidestep, but Troy kept running past her. Octavia’s cage had been dragged outside of the fence. He could make it.

“Stop running, dear brother. Fight me!”

“What’s the matter, Ty? Can’t keep up?”

In a flash of fire, Tyreen teleported in front of him. Putting all his momentum behind it, the taller Calypso slammed his metal fist into the side of his twin’s head. Tyreen lost her footing and was thrown back several feet. Once again, he ran for the cage now being loaded into a COV vehicle. He could still make it. Troy was close enough to see the fear in those cultists’ eyes. 

An electric pain hit Troy in the back, halting him in his tracks. It spread in a fiery trail through his entire body. He gasped, pulling air into his burning lungs. Still he continued moving forward, watching the world blur through his eyelashes. 

“Do you actually care about what happens to a bunch of vault thief wannabes?” Tyreen asked, slowly approaching with purple sparks dancing around her fingertips.

Another shot of electricity ripped through his insides. Troy squeezed his eyes closed. He felt his fingernails dragging across the dirt, not remembering when he hit the ground. He forced one eye open to see the COV vehicles pulling off.

A sharp kick to Troy’s stomach lurched his guts, causing bile to rise in his throat. Tyreen grabbed a fistful of his black hair and lifted his head, forcing him to watch her follower’s vehicles speeding away. “You do care, don’t you? Which one is it, I wonder.” The siren signaled to a cambot overhead. It swooped down and displayed a projection before the two of them.

They were scenes of the party from earlier today. It cycled from the dancers around the bonfire to Troy surrounded by admirers to people laughing at the bar to… Troy involuntarily whimpered at the image. 

“Jackpot,” Tyreen smiled wickedly. The projection showed Troy and Octavia, sitting on the ground together. “She is cute. Don’t worry, Troy. I’ll take good care of her.”

With more strength than someone her size should rightfully possess, Tyreen lifted her brother by the throat with one arm. Troy gagged and clawed at the fingers closing around his airways. Her blue siren marks pulsed as she activated her powers. 

“Now, do me a favor and die this time.”

Troy struggled against the leech. His chest throbbed as his movements shifted the crystals forming inside it. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t scream. He felt his eyes water, and his arms went limp at his sides. 

I wasn’t strong enough... I’m sorry.

~~~

“Eat shit, devil bitch!”

Lieutenant Cramer’s rocket hit the Calypsos, detonating into a plume of smoke and fire. Raz was concerned for Troy due to the size of the blast, but they were out of options, and Cramer was out of patience.

A hush fell over the field. The remaining Raiders and recruits had their sights focused on the smoke cloud, unable to see the twins inside it. Raz steadied his breath aiming down his rifle’s scope. 

Suddenly, something came flying from the smoke and landed heavily on the ground in front of the Raiders. Raz’s heart sank when he noticed the lifeless form of Troy lying before him. His skin was grey and glistened with purple crystals. Raz had to resist the urge to run to him. The God Queen emerged from the dust, not showing an ounce of remorse.

“Ya know, it is too easy taking your stuff. I was hoping for something more than just a few sparks,” Tyreen brushed the dust from her jacket. “I’m starting to feel kinda bad for you, so I’ll leave you a participation trophy.” She pointed to her brother’s form in the dirt and laughed maniacally. 

“Open fire!” commanded Cramer. The air erupted with thundering gunfire. The siren was too quick. She teleported out of sight in a flash of flames.

Raz rushed to the fallen Calypso, sliding on his knees. The light of his siren marks was dead, small crystals sprouted from his body in clusters. The bearded man put an ear to the cold skin of Troy’s bare chest. A heartbeat. The son of a bitch was still alive.

“He’s alive!” Raz yelled.

Cramer spoke into his Echo, “Base to Sanctuary. Commander Lilith, the damned devil bitch herself and her cultists attacked us. Many injured, more M.I.A. and Troy’s about to find out if the Great Vault exists because he’s a few breaths away from death.”

Raz could hear Lilith’s voice from where he still knelt by Troy’s side. “Damn! We’ll get them back, don’t worry. But we can’t afford to lose Troy now.” Lilith paused. “We don’t have any other choice. Give him blood.”

Raz looked the body up and down, then spoke up, “But he hasn’t lost much blood.”

“No.” Lilith sighed into the Echo, bracing herself for what she was about to say. “He needs to drink blood. Tannis thinks... There’s no time to explain. Just do it.”

No rest for the wicked. Eh, mate? Just hold on a little longer.

[madsruti]

Not that I think someone will read this cause it's too long, but I talk about death so I could be triggering. Also, it's probably badly written because I cried while I was writing it and I don't want to revise it because I will cry again, but I don't really care right now. Anyways...

It's been a while. Much has changed and I feel like shit.

Tina died on July 17. I still can't talk about it and think about her without crying (yes, I'm crying right now). She was exactly 15 years and 6 months old. And she looked so tiny. And she was so cold. She got back to the ICU after my last post and then she never left. She died in my arms when I last visited her. She was sleeping and snoring. And cold. She wasn't able to keep her body temperature anymore. I held her for about five minutes and then it happened. I was alone with her. I have never seen someone die before. And just stupidly thought something along the lines of honey why are you coughing are you thirsty because I am a dumbass. I tried texting my mom (she was at the clinic too) but she wouldn't respond, so I had to leave Tina on the desk and try to get someone. I knew she had died, but I didn't know that it had already happened when she was in my arms. It killed me to think that she could have died on the table. I think I said before how I didn't want her to feel alone and abandoned, I'm glad I was with her when she died. I'm glad she died sleeping and didn't suffer. But I'm also a wreck. I can't not think about it when I remember these last few days. Or how I had to take her convulsing in my arms just a week before that. It was too much. It is too much.

I spent two weeks basically doing nothing after that. I cried a lot. And then her ashes came and I cried more. And now I feel sad and I feel longing every time I look at it (I'm not ready to spread it somewhere yet. I don't even know where it would be). Sometimes it's easy to pretend that she's back at my father's house instead of being with me and my mother. Sometimes I forget for a second and think oh I should make one extra nugget for Tina and then it hits me. I hid her stuff, but I'm not ready to let them go yet too. Just the other day I found one of her blankets inside one of my jacket's pockets from this day we went to visit her at the ICU and thought maybe we could bring her home... And I was crying again. I miss her so much. And I know she had a good life overall (especially these last few years), but I also can't stop thinking about what I should have done more or what I should have done differently, especially when she was a puppy. Even if back then I was also just a child and if my parents said Tina had to leave outside of the house, I couldn't do much. Why the fuck a pinscher had to live outside of the house? It changed after time, but still, my mom wouldn't allow her on the couch until like three years ago. I should have held her more. I should have taken her to more walks. I don't know, I should have done something more. I love her so much it feels like my heart is gonna explode and I don't know how to express myself. I'll never have a pet again. How some people have so many of them? Fuck, I can't. I can't. I feel like I've lost a part of me.

As I did nothing, I had a lot of time to think about life in general and how I wasn't happy with mine. Quarantine is obviously being a bitch. I like spending time alone at home, but not that much. I miss going out to eat with my friends. I miss going to the movies. I miss being alone because now my mom is working from home and she is here all the time (my mother hates being at home and she was always out doing whatever) and my neighbors whose walls we share are also home all the time and it's always so noisy I can't ever be truly alone. I know it's probably bullshit and some people live like this always and not just during a pandemic, but I'm used to being alone. Oh, how I miss those two years I lived by myself.

But besides being mentally fucked, I also have come to accept that I don't want a PhD. I told my parents I was dropping out and my mother freaked. So I got even more mentally fucked. I feel guilty about giving up, I feel guilty because I don't know what the hell I wanna do with my life and I just know that I don't want to be a graphic designer or a professor. And my mom makes me feel worse because she's always but why can't you just finish it it's just three more years and what are you going to do now why don't you do this and you know you gonna have to go back to college right and you probably won't enter a public university (which is free) but we also don't have enough money to support you and just a million things that I already know. She doesn't let me have a minute to think. It's like I'm dropping out on monday morning and in the afternoon I have to be already enrolled in something else. And let me tell you something, I know that I don't want to be a designer since the first semester at college. That's about fucking nine years ago. But I wasn't brave enough to accept it back then and I just sucked it up and finished it and continued to do it until now because it was easier. So no, I won't magically know what to know if I don't know what to do for the past nine years (you could say more, I was already lost in high school). And now I'm feeling sick like two to three times a week.

But the thing is, I want to do something. I really do. I don't want to spend the rest of my days on my mother's house couch browsing tiktok (cause that's what she probably thinks I wanna do). But I don't even know where to begin. So I'm seeing a therapist (although I'm not sure I'll be able to decide what I wanna do with my life with just that, but yeah pretty sure it's clear I've got other problems. Even if I already went to a therapist for I don't know six or seven years before that), I went to a psychiatrist (she said I don't need meds, so maybe I not as bad as I think, but I definitely need to keep going to therapy) and I know I need to find someone who does some kind of career advice thingy. Yeah, I'm pretty lost. I'm also very unproductive, not because I don't have classes to attend anymore but I could be doing something besides watching TV and youtube and tiktok and crying all day. I could be studying french. Dammit, I could be watching all those stuff in french. I could be drawing. I could be playing the guitar. I could be learning the piano since I already chose the one I want to buy but I haven't done it yet. It's so hard to begin to do things again and it hasn't been that long yet. It's just that it's not a vacation, it's hard for my brain to understand that it's ok to focus on my well being now and I don't have to do something that's gonna be work and earn me some money.

Maybe I should read this to my therapist. I'm not sure if I like her yet. Things don't make sense anymore. Time's moving differently. Why can't I just wake up ten years in the future? You know what would be easier? Yes.

Mads

[artificialqueens]

as the stars align 2/? (branjie) - rujubees

A/N: also on ao3

It was seven am on a Monday in late March, the first day of production on As the Stars Align, and it just had to be the day that Brooke’s cat Apollo decided to fall ill. He had been vomiting for a few hours now, and Brooke didn’t want to take any chances, deciding to call the vet when she was ready to leave for set and he still hadn’t stopped.

Naturally, her next step after that was to call Nina.

“God, what if he ate something poisonous? What if he’s really sick?” Brooke asked, tears filling her eyes at the thought.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, sweetheart. Can you imagine if you called the doctors every time you threw up? He probably just has a hangover,” her friend teased.

“That’s not helping, Nina.”

Brooke placed her on speaker, ushering Apollo inside of the cat carrier.

“Dammit, there’s no way I’m getting to work on time. Fuck,” Brooke cursed. She positioned the phone between her ear and shoulder, carrying Apollo out of the house.

“Relax, I doubt Katya Zamolodchikova has a single angry bone in her body, or Asia for that matter. No way are they gonna care about the star of the show being half an hour late.”

“God knows how long his appointment is gonna take, though.”

Brooke slammed her car door shut, thinking about how it was way too early in the morning to be this sweaty and this exhausted.

“Um, Brooke? Don’t act like you don’t have someone on speed dial who can take care of him for you.”

“I can’t force him to socialise, not right now. He hates people, he barely likes me.” Brooke let out a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a sob.

“Can’t you at least get a chauffeur or some fancy shit?”

“They don’t drive fast enough. Too concerned about safety and laws and shit.”

Nina laughed.

“Brooke Lynn, I love you, but if you land your speeding ass in a cell they’re gonna set your bail super high and I don’t think I could afford to pay it, even if I wanted to.”

“I gotta go. I love you too.”

—

Brooke made it to set at exactly nine twenty-two am, nearly two hours after her call time of half seven. It could’ve been worse, especially as they didn’t have much to shoot that day, but by the time her hair and makeup would be done it would already be approaching afternoon. It was a significant delay for sure, and some people would be pissed. Thankfully, Brooke had made some phone calls while waiting at the vet’s, and Katya and Asia were perfectly understanding. Even Michelle, who came down hard on punctuality, was able to sympathise.

What still sucked, though, was that she didn’t know what was wrong with Apollo yet. They’d kept him around to do some tests, and Brooke had reluctantly left his side, knowing that she was of no help anyway if she stuck around. At least work might serve as a distraction.

It was easier said than done, however, as she showed up to work unable to focus on anything but her baby, feeling like fragile glass that could shatter at any moment. It was a situation that was sure to culminate in either a mental breakdown or a lashing out aimed at the first person she came into contact with.

As soon as she saw Vanessa’s fiery brown eyes looking her up and down in a judgemental stare, she decided it was going to be the latter.

Before anything more could happen, Brooke felt a hand on her arm, and turned to see Katya inviting her into a warm hug.

“I’m so sorry,” she said warmly.

“It’s fine. I’m sure it’s nothing,” Brooke reassured her, squeezing back, trying to convince herself too that it would all be okay.

They let go and Brooke went off to take her place in hair and makeup. She made easy conversation with her makeup artist, Yvie, while waiting for her hairstylist Shuga. Yvie showed her a portfolio of looks she had put together, leaving Brooke in awe of her creativity.

“I should paint you like this for the movie, bitch,” Yvie said, pointing to various gruesome effects she had used in her makeup. “Can you imagine Michelle’s face when I stick you on set looking like a fucking Cyclops?”

Yvie let out a deep, contagious laugh at the mental image, and it wasn’t long before Brooke was joining her. It took her a minute to notice that Vanessa had also entered the trailer and sat down a few feet away in her own makeup seat, looking especially irked at the scene before her.

“Really, bitch? Two hours late and all anyone wants to do is fuckin’ cuddle and kiki with you.”

Vanessa was pissed as hell, and Brooke could feel her own face heating up.

“Mind your own fucking business,” Brooke snapped, wishing she was able to come up with a wittier response.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Out here wasting all of our times and you don’t even have the decency to apologise or feel bad about it.”

Shuga, along with Vanessa’s makeup artist Aquaria and hair stylist Kameron, started shuffling into the room. Brooke decided to hold her tongue and simply direct Vanessa with the most venomous look she could muster. She was surprised when her co-star didn’t back away in response with even so much as a flinch.

As the minutes traipsed by, keeping quiet was harder than Brooke thought it would be — all she wanted to do was go at it with Vanessa, sparring insults back and forth for hours. She wasn’t normally the confrontational type, but Vanessa was testing her.

They both kept to themselves for the rest of their time in the trailer, the silence being filled instead by the hair and makeup artists talking among themselves, clearly sensing the tension between the two leads.

Brooke couldn’t comprehend why Vanessa was being so harsh on her for being late one time. She doubted that anyone had told her the reason for her lateness, but Vanessa was hardly in a position to complain — she had been paid to sit around doing nothing while Brooke had been worrying her damn guts off. Okay, sure, she hadn’t been the most friendly to Vanessa the first time they’d met, but she’d remained perfectly professional. Since the chemistry read, her mind had flashed back to her first encounter with Vanessa an unreasonable amount of times. She couldn’t stop thinking about her annoying smug smirk that had seemed to be mocking her or those long, thick eyelashes fluttering all over the place, acting like she was all innocent. She knew she was making no sense, but something about the girl had just irked her from the start, and Brooke couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

Much to Brooke’s relief, she received a text from the vets at some point during the time she had been mentally cussing Vanessa out: Apollo was going to be fine. She let out a shaky breath but wasn’t gonna let herself get emotional over this — at least, not now in front of the damn trailer party.

After a while, Shuga, Yvie, Aquaria and Kameron left the pair alone, instructing them to wait for their makeup to dry or something that was probably a load of bullshit.

“If y’all lock this door on us on your way out, I swear ima whoop your ass,” Vanessa warned them.

Brooke turned to her, feeling calmer than she had been earlier, but Vanessa still had a lot of work to do in order to get on her good side.

“Can we go film this shit?” Brooke said, cringing as it came out more coldly than intended, even to her own ears.

Vanessa clenched her jaw, paused, and then stood up.

“Fine, but know that I don’t like you.”

She took off without a second look back, and it all stung just a bit more than Brooke was expecting.

—

“A’keria was right. She’s the worst,” Vanessa conceded a few days after she first started working with Brooke Lynn. She had been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt after their initial encounter, everyone has off days after all. But not only did she have the sweet nerve to show up late to their first day on set, she also followed it up with no apologies or explanations and instead went snuggling up to Katya and giggling with Yvie. Vanessa had felt a stab to the chest when she walked in on Brooke with the latter, the pair acting like they had known each other for years and laughing without a care in the world. Vanessa knew she was a handful and that her personality wasn’t for everyone, but Brooke hadn’t even made an effort to get to know her. Vanessa couldn’t wrap her head around it. It made whatever Brooke had against her feel all the more personal.

“I never said she was the worst,” A’keria corrected her, pulling Vanessa from her thoughts with her annoyance at either being misquoted, or having her favourite reality show interrupted, or both.

“Well, she’s the most rude, stuck up, unprofessional hoe I’ve ever met,” Vanessa huffed dramatically.

“I mean, if it doesn’t affect her acting…” Silky offered pityingly.

“I dunno, I feel like it’s fucking with mine. I’m surprised Michelle hasn’t fired me yet. How am I supposed to pretend to be in love with the bitch when all I wanna do is rip that stupid blonde hair out of her pretty little head?”

A’keria and Silky exchanged a glance Vanessa couldn’t decipher.

“Just… channel all of that anger and turn it into a different kind of passion,” Silky advised with a shrug.

“Whatever,” Vanessa said, feigning indifference, her cheeks warming at the thought of the passionate scenes she would be sharing with Brooke soon enough. She couldn’t let herself think about that yet, forcing her mind to practically shut off whenever the topics of Brooke Lynn and Kissing would start to overlap. She’d cross that bridge when she got to it.

“Speaking of passion…” started A’keria, wiggling her eyebrows unsubtly. “How’s your man, V?”

“He’s fine, but what does that have to do with passion?”

“You’re so romantic it makes me sick,” Silky quipped sarcastically.

A’keria chuckled in agreement before turning serious again.

“Seriously, Vanj. If you’re that bored, just stomp your little legs over to that white bread boy and say, ‘I dump your ass!’”

“I’m not bored!” Vanessa argued defensively. “Things are nice between us, you thirsty hoes would get it if either of you had been in a relationship that lasted longer than three months.”

“Okay. Then tell me, when was the last time you got laid, girl?” A’keria questioned with a knowing look as Silky pursed her lips.

“I — I…” Vanessa stammered and inwardly scolded herself for being so obvious. She loved A’keria and Silky, but also hated them for always seeing straight through her. Moreover, she hated herself for actually needing to think back in order to find the answer to that question.

A’keria turned her attention back to the TV, clearly satisfied with herself, while Silky gave her a look that screamed ‘I told you so.’

“Fine. You know what?” Vanessa stood abruptly as Silky and A’keria watched on with bemused expressions. “I’m gonna go see him now and we’re gonna have the hottest, steamiest fuckin’ sex, the sun is gonna wish she was me, bitch.” She stalked off on a mission, too embarrassed to seek out her friends’ reactions but feeling their confused expressions on her anyway.

—

When Vanessa walked through her apartment door, she was already regretting ditching her friends in order to prove a point. It was a particularly muggy evening for spring in LA, and she wasn’t in any type of mood to be getting even sweatier.

“Oh! Hey babe,” Matt said, surprised to see her home so soon just like she had originally hoped for. She’d had a whole plan to show up out of nowhere and seduce him, right there and then, hoping that the spontaneity would mean that they would actually go through with it for once instead of scheduling sex into their busy diaries and putting it off each time. Vanessa would be lying if she said she was still feeling her original idea, but decided to try and slowly ease herself into it instead of jumping his bones right off the bat.

“Hi,” Vanessa greeted him with a peck on the lips.

“You’re back early. I thought you were hanging out with the girls tonight.”

“Yeah, well… I missed you,” Vanessa replied weakly.

“Oh?” Matt asked, a hint of flirtation in his voice as he pulled her onto the couch with him and brought his lips down to meet hers. They made out for a few minutes, and it was comfortable. It was nice. Silky and A’keria were wrong; Vanessa had no reason to get rid of this. So maybe it wasn’t a love story on par with The Notebook, but Vanessa knew better than most people how fake and constructed those were. If there was one thing her and Brooke could agree on, it was that the two of them were a testament to that fact.

Vanessa was thankful when Matt pulled back; she could tell this wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

“How was work? You seem stressed lately.”

“You would be too if Satan’s daughter was your colleague,” Vanessa sulked.

“Aww, I’m sure I can make you feel better,” Matt answered in a voice Vanessa was sure he thought was sexy. He began sucking at her neck as she sat there, her hate boner for Brooke rekindled now that he had brought the subject back up.

“She’s just so fucking infuriating, you don’t even know. Whenever it’s just the two of us, the bitch lets me have it, but then we get on set and she’s a fucking angel because she knows that I can’t just switch it on as quick as her and I’m left looking like a hateful bitch.”

“I’m sorry, V,” Matt responded with genuine concern, before ruining it by latching onto her neck again. Vanessa rolled her eyes and pushed him off of her.

“I’m at breaking point here, Matt!” Vanessa snapped. “Could you stop coverin’ me in drool for one goddamn second and listen to me?”

Matt looked hurt, and Vanessa instantly felt guilty. She hadn’t meant to take her frustrations about Brooke out on him.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I — it’s just been a long day.”

“It’s chill. I get it,” Matt sighed. Vanessa’s heart ached as she realised just how much she didn’t deserve him.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” Vanessa decided, squeezing Matt’s hand briefly.

“Night. Love you, V.”

“You too,” Vanessa called back automatically. It wasn’t all that late, but she needed the sleep; hating Brooke was becoming a full time, all-consuming job, and she was tired.

—

Brooke and Vanessa carried on at each other’s throats for over a week — fights in their trailers, digs at table reads, and even a collision between the two women at the canteen which almost resulted in a vicious food fight. Brooke tried not to let their feud ooze into their time on set, opting instead to keep a polite, professional demeanour around her co-star that sometimes strayed towards subtle taunts at how worked up Vanessa would get over her.

It was almost as if Brooke was in her own angry bubble with Vanessa, and she was pretty sure she hated her almost as much as she loved fighting with her.

It was naive of her, really, to think that the animosity between the two of them would go unnoticed by the hundreds of people she was with each day as much as she was with Vanessa. The fact that it came as a complete shock to them made the eventual intervention that was staged all the more humiliating.

Brooke and Vanessa were seated at opposite ends of the couch, while Michelle and Asia stood before them, both of them attempting to look strict with only Michelle managing it with any level of success. In a slightly out of place scene, Katya simply sat on another couch curled up to a blonde girl Brooke didn’t recognise. Plastique and Scarlet, two other actresses on the movie who were apparently also being affected by Brooke and Vanessa’s rivalry, were also present, along with Yvie, Shuga, Kameron and Aquaria, each of them looking various degrees of disinterested. A few minutes in, even Nina joined them, and a woman named Ra’jah, who introduced herself to Brooke as Vanessa’s manager.

“So, I’m sure by now we all know why Brooke and Vanessa are here with us today,” Michelle began curtly.

“Would somebody care to explain it to us?” Brooke asked feebly, wondering whether there was any hope of getting out of this with her dignity intact.

“Don’t play dumb, bitch,” Vanessa retorted. If she wanted to do this in front of everybody then so be it, Brooke thought.

“This is exactly why,” Michelle said with a sigh, stepping in before Brooke could clap back.

“Now, you two don’t have to be girlfriends in real life,” she continued, and out of the corner of her eye Brooke noticed Vanessa’s little hands balling up into fists at the patronising speech they were being given.

“You don’t even have to be friends. But this war that you guys have going on is disrupting the atmosphere on set and off. I don’t know whether you had noticed, but you’re not the only ones working here and this negative energy is putting your cast and crew in a bad mood and making everyone’s jobs and lives a lot harder.”

Brooke swallowed, staring into her lap, the shame beginning to settle in.

“Vanessa? I’m Nina, Brooke’s manager and friend,” Brooke heard, looking up to see Nina pulling a chair up so that she was sat in the gap between Vanessa and herself like a goddamn mediator. Asia quickly followed in her footsteps and Brooke couldn’t believe it had actually come to this.

“I really think it’d be in both of your best interests to put this… tension between you in the past,” Asia started. “And while Michelle here has reassured me that it’s not your acting that she’s concerned about, imagine how much more you could be capable of with a little less hostility inhibiting your performances?”

Vanessa snorted and scowled at that as if she was deliberately trying to remind Brooke why she had disliked Vanessa to begin with. At least Brooke was taking this seriously.

“Moreover, it’s not a cute look for the movie’s leads to be enemies, especially since this could be groundbreaking as far as gay representation in mainstream Hollywood goes, and you two are our romantic leads. Sure, we could use it to generate a few headlines, but that’s not the narrative we’re trying to create here. This thing is Katya’s baby and she’s hoping it will be a source of light in a lot of people’s life. Don’t let it be clouded in darkness, because you know that nothing stays a secret in showbiz,” Asia finished.

“And let’s not forget about the press tour. And the premiere… y’all will get coupled up for interviews the whole time. If nothing else gives your drama away, those will,” Ra’jah chipped in. Brooke could feel herself relenting, the reasons on top of reasons starting to prove that the pros of ending this pointless feud outweighed the cons.

“Brooke,” Nina appealed to her directly, “I know you feel how important this story is and I know you don’t want its legacy to be tainted. You’ve always been outspoken about the media and how they pit women against each other and if you keep this up, you’ll be making their job a lot easier, far easier than it deserves to be.”

Vanessa’s eyes finally met hers for the first time in what felt like forever, and until then Brooke hadn’t realised how badly she hated it when Vanessa behaved like she wasn’t there.

“I… shit, I agree with Nina,” Vanessa confessed, much to Brooke’s surprise.

“You do?” Brooke asked quietly, needing the confirmation.

“Don’t get excited, girl, I don’t like you all of a sudden,” she snipped. “But… I guess I can stop acting like I want to kill you so much.”

Brooke wanted to laugh at that. She had to give it to Vanessa — she may have only been five foot three, but Brooke didn’t think she’d ever met anybody so fierce.

“I suppose I could try that to,” Brooke replied. She gave her a nod in affirmation, thinking that a smile might be going a little far.

“Well, now that that’s been dealt with, you’re all free to go,” Michelle announced and most of the room got up to leave  — Brooke was pretty certain that at least half of them had tuned out for the majority of the intervention anyway. Nina gave her a wink, signalling that she would meet her outside.

“Just one more thing, ladies,” Michelle added, gesturing for Brooke and Vanessa to stay behind. “Now that you’ve cleared the air, I’m sure you’ll be delighted to hear that you’ll be shooting your first on-screen kiss later this week. I’ll see you then.”

Brooke froze, damning Michelle and her poor timing. Just as she and Vanessa were starting to patch things up, she had to go and make the air thick with friction again. Brooke was expecting an insult, a barb, but instead —

“I can’t wait to find out if you’re as good at kissing as you are at picking fights,” Vanessa deadpanned, her voice even lower and more raspy than usual, before strutting off without waiting for a response.

Which was a good thing, because at that moment, Brooke didn’t think she could find the words if she tried.

[therandomfics]

AMA Pt12

It was bright when you opened your eyes, so bright that you shielded them and scowled. You sat up in your bed and drank in your surroundings: a hospital room with a television on low volume, a rolling bed cart with a sweating pitcher of ice water and one solemn chair in the corner. Your things were in the chair - but they weren’t the clothes you remembered wearing last. Instead of a dirty sweatshirt and blood stained jeans, your favorite shirt dress and boots were waiting for you. You changed and observed yourself in the mirror. Somehow, despite however long you’d been in bed, your hair was perfect, your makeup was done, and you looked well. 

Pulling open the door to your room, you were greeted by an unusual scene. You stepped not into the hallway of the hospital, but into the dilapidated park that you had been found in so many years ago. Even more unusual was the smaller version of yourself, crying on the bench and shivering from the cold. You reached out to comfort your child self, but the moment you made contact with her, you felt a jolt and fell backwards. 

You sat up and looked around. No more hospital, no more park. Now you were in one of the many foster care homes you’d spent time in. Your 8 year old self sat in her room and cried, incessantly, from loneliness and from isolation. Your foster parents, you remembered in that moment, had been very negligent - and often dangerous. Your eyes scanned the bruises on her arms and you recalled the times that you’d fought of the advances of the older kids in the home. You shook your head and reminded yourself that it was in the past. It was over. 

Suddenly you were walking into the home of your now parents, watching your 14 year old self glow over wonderful grades. You looked upon the teenage you and smiled - you were safe. Lonely, but safe. Your parents looked upon you with loving eyes, but your adoptive aunt, uncle, grandmother and grandfather didn’t share the same affection. You were a parasite to them. Obviously, you’d remembered hearing, if there was something wrong with you that would have been why your parents neglected you and left you to die. “No one simply abandons their child,” your aunt had said. It was comical now in retrospect, as her own daughter - your cousin - had spent the majority of her youth with anyone but her parents. 

Flash forward again and you were graduating from Hudson. It was probably the best day of your life at that point. It was the first time you’d felt successful. No one got you into that school; you’d worked hard and earned it. You had a career path lined up and you were dating someone who you just knew was the one. You rolled your eyes, remembered how you’d broken up two months later when he’d accidentally called you while having a heavy petting session with someone else. Oops. 

Then, it happened. You were watching your adult self, your professional adult self, swoon over Sonny Carisi. He was everything to you, and he was the reason you weren’t with the conscious living. Well, no, you corrected yourself. It wasn’t really his fault, you were just a victim of circumstances. 

“Not everyone can handle the shit you’ve seen.” A voice that you didn’t recognize was in your ear, focusing your attention away from the scene in front of you. When you turned to the side you were greeted by a woman who looked like you, but maybe if you’d taken a few wrong paths and hadn’t slept in a few weeks. “I regret what I did to you, Y/N. I do. But, I’m glad to see you’re okay.” 

It took you a second to realize you were talking to your own birth mother. “I can’t say I forgive you, Diane. But, I can say that I’m not exactly okay. Look, I’m watching the highest and lowest points of my life over. It’s not exactly entertaining.” 

When she opened her mouth again, it wasn’t her voice anymore. It was the voice of your adoptive mother. “Maybe if you’d never been together, this wouldn’t have happened. I do not give you my blessing. My husband doesn’t approve, either, if you’d like to know. He knows people, so if you ever think you’re going to move on to something else in your life, you’d better think about what I’ve said.” 

Nothing was making sense. You suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe, like gravity was much stronger and focused solely on crushing you. 

You heard Sonny’s voice, and how sweet it was. “Listen, Mrs. Gardella, with all due respect, I didn’t intend for your daughter to get hurt. You need to understand, I love her and I stopped at nothing to find her. I am sincerely apologetic for all that has happened but I think that if Y/N woke up right now and I wasn’t here, you’d get the opposite effect you were hopin’ for.” 

The continued pressure was becoming too much to bear. You shrieked at the tops of your lungs and clenched your fists at your side, but suddenly there was something in one of your hands: sheets. Your other arm had ceased to work. You sat up and looked around wildly. You were back in your hospital room, but this time Sonny was there, along with your mother and the doctor. 

“Sonny’s not going anywhere, god dammit,” you snapped, ripping the sheets from your body and reaching for him. “Don’t leave, please. Don’t leave me.” 

“How long have I been here?” you asked Sonny after you’d finally demanded that everyone leave the room unless they were a medical professional, or Sonny. 

He couldn’t stop touching you. His hands were on your face, your hands, your thigh. “Three days. You’ve been here three days. You were missing for nearly two weeks.” 

You frowned and grasped onto his hands. “Thank you for finding me, Sonny. I owe you my life.” 

“I thought I was gonna lose you, doll. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t woken up, or if I hadn’t found you,” he muttered and pulled you into a careful hug. You were bruised, sore, tired, everything. “When I found you in the back of that car you’d lost so much blood you were on the fine line between life and death. You had a blood infection, a stab wound, internal bleeding, nearly crushed larynx, and your arm was.. still is broken.” Suddenly he was crying, his face buried against your lap as he begged for you forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t been in your life.” 

You patted his head gently and fumbled with the cup of water next to your bed. You were so thirsty it was painful. “I don’t blame you, I promise, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I realized that when I was taking my exceptionally long nap,” you soothed, rubbing his back idly. “I love you. Look at me, Sonny, and tell me that even when I look like this, you still love me.” 

He sat up and placed his hand against your cheek. “I love you no matter what, you know that. But I need to tell you something.” 

“What?” 

“We didn’t get Nicole. I.. I don’t know where she went, and I was focused on getting you help that I stayed at your side. Someone said that they heard she’d gone into hiding.” His poor eyes were misty and tired. “I’m gonna kill her when I find her.” 

“Not if I find her first,” you warned - only have serious. You were obviously in no position to go after anyone, and what skill set did you have beyond the severe desire to survive? 

Weeks passed and you found yourself settled in a new apartment, with a new roommate. Sonny had asked you and you agreed, for safety and for the simple fact that you loved one another. You awoke in the middle of the night quite often, but he was always there to console you and keep you under his wing. You went back to work a month after your hospital stay, and you were pleased to see how well everyone had adjusted to your trauma. At the suggestion of Olivia, you began seeing a crisis counselor. It seemed stupid for you at first, but you soon began to realized that you needed to work through your fears and your concerns about what had happened. Sonny said that they’d done a full exam and there was no sign of sexual assault, but you’d come so close so many times it felt like it might have actually happened. 

Sonny had taken it upon himself to share some of his old family secrets with you in the kitchen. It was a good way to bond and an even better way to make sure that you were able to focus on something beyond your thoughts. 

“Sonny!” You screamed suddenly, turning to him and grabbing his arm. “I just thought of something. Oh, I’m so sorry I just remembered!” Things came back in pieces as your therapist had said they would, but this one was massive. “Paulie said that he’d raped someone in Connecticut and they’d never run the kit, but he said it was him. Is there anyway to use that against him, somehow, to get him to crack? He knows where that psychotic little bitch went, I’m telling you. He knows.” 

He cupped your face and kissed you. It tasted like tomatoes and garlic, and you’d never felt more in love. “Give me two minutes,” he urged and ran from the room, phone to his ear. You heard him telling Olivia what you’d just told him, and he ran back into the room still on the phone. “Did he say where?” 

You shook your head and sighed. “No, just that he always broke his play things.” Without knowing it, you’d told Sonny that not only had Paulie sexually assaulted these women, he killed them. 

He relayed the message and ended the call, putting his phone on the counter. “C’mere,” he said softly and pulled you to his chest. His head rested atop yours and he swayed you back and forth slowly, dancing to some inaudible music in his head. “I’m leaving SVU. I got offered a position with the DA’s office in the Bronx. It’s safer. Better hours, I’ll be with you more.” 

“You didn’t need to do that, angel. I’m fine, you know? I really am.” 

He shushed you and kissed the top of your head. “No, you’re not, and you don’t have to be. I got no expectations for you to turn your feelings off, so you better keep going to therapy and you need to tell me anytime you need me - I don’t care what it is.” 

The next time Olivia sat down with Paulie, she presented him with more evidence than he’d expected. He was facing life without parole for the murder of Arabella Gardenza, in addition to your aggravated assault and kidnapping. “Connecticut, however, offered the death penalty, and she was sure the ADA would push for that.” A lie, but it was effective. 

Nicole Santoro was found several days later in Vermont, not too far from the town you were born in. Medical officials said she had been dead for nearly three weeks when they found her. It was ruled a suicide and the elation on Sonny’s face was undeiable when you saw him later. 

He met you for lunch to give you the good news and told you he needed to ask you something very important. 

“Ask way, Sonny.” You were slated to get your cast off in a few days and had fought the urge for so long to pick at the gauzy, chalky material. It was irritating you and getting in the way of you finishing your lunch. 

“I...” he was hesitating. His face was red and he was sweating in the cool air of March. “Y/N.. it’s just, it’s really important.” 

You nodded and set your sandwich down. 

He knelt in front of you and pulled a box from his pocket. “Marry me, Y/N?” he asked, opening the velvet keeper to reveal a princess cut ruby on a white gold band. 

You said yes and cried happy tears, a thing you hadn’t experienced before. It was a blur, but somehow he convinced you to marry him at the Bronx courthouse that afternoon, surrounded by family and friends. It was beautiful, just like you knew it would be. You were Mrs. Sonny Carisi. 

Paulie stood trial and you testified against him for your case for what felt like decades. He was given four consecutive life sentences without the option for parole once the trial was finally over. A little bird told you that shortly after he was sent to prison, he fell victim to a gang initiation. 

That night, you slept peacefully for the first time in nearly a year, which was good, because you were expecting baby Carisi in only five short months. 

[[THANK YOU GUYS! Your support has been nothing less than amazing! I hope you enjoyed AMA and I am looking forward to the next adventure. <3]]

[blazinbeautywrites]

Dirty Attraction

Length: 2,046

Genre: Thirst cuz Jay is thirsty lol. But seriously I guess this is lowkey angst.

A/N: This is WAAAAAAAAAAAY overdue so enjoy. Btw this is part of a series.

Gia and Naomi have been best friends since they were out of the womb. Their mothers were best friends and raised their daughters together. After Naomi’s mom died, Gia took her on a trip to Korea since she was a huge fan of kpop and khip-hop. What was supposed to be 3 months in Korea turned into 3 years and the girls couldn’t be happier with their new lives.

“I really need to hit the gym. All I’ve done for the past 3 weeks was work, eat and sleep,” Naomi complained while flipping through a magazine in the kitchen.

“Well lucky for you I have the rest of the week off so we can go later on today and Friday. I could use a little leg work,” Gia replied.

“Okay.There’s this new gym that’s kinda lowkey and no one really goes there except a few artists when they don’t wanna be bothered by annoying fans. I’ve been there like twice,” Naomi said.

“And here you are, telling me of this secret idol gym. Obsessed much?” Gia said laughing a bit.

“Haha, look just be ready in a hour!” With that Naomi left and went into her room to get ready. Gia laughed at her ridiculous friend and hopped off of the kitchen stool she was perched on. She felt her phone vibrate and saw that Parker aka Dumbfoundead was calling her. She and Naomi have known Dumbfoundead since he was just starting out in the underground rap scene and have been friends since then.

“Hey what’s up?” Gia asked.

“Nothing much just relaxing before my set. I miss you though,” Dumbfoundead said.

“Boy you’ve only been on tour for a day, get it together boo,” Gia said laughing at him.

“You’re so damn mean. Anyways I have a surprise show in Hongdae real soon and I have some tickets and passes for you and my baby Naomi,” he said.

“Your baby? Boy you so damn sprung. Yall been crushing on each other for like 2 years and yall both still single,” Gia stated.

“That’s only cuz she play too much. She know she wants this,” he said.

“I’m gonna pretend like I didn’t hear that, but anyways when is the show?” Gia asked.

“Saturday night. I really wanna see you guys so please say you’ll come,” Parker whined. Gia loved hearing him beg so she decided to mess with him.

“Hmmm I don’t know. What’s in it for me?” Gia asked him.

“Well now that you mentioned it, I have someone I want you to meet,” He said.

“Why are you always trying to set me up? I’m good I don’t need a boyfriend,” Gia said, moving the the couch.

“Who said anything about a boyfriend? I’m trying to get you laid. I know it’s been a while so I’m just trying to help you out,” Dumbfounded retorted.

“Boy, how dare you!? I can get dick on my own ya know!” Gia said.

“Okay, okay, buuut I showed him your pic and he wants to meet you, so can you please just do this for me?” he asked.

“Fine, but if I don’t like him you have to leave me alone.” Gia said.

“Deal. So I’ll see you guys this weekend?” he asked.

“Yes we’ll come!” Gia sighed.

“Thank you so much! Oh and tell my baby wear something sexy for me,” Dumbfounded replied.

“Goodbye dumbass,” She heard him laugh as she hung up. Gia realized that she only had 30 minutes to get ready. She used 10 of them just searching for her gym clothes. She finally settled on a semi mesh sports bra and matching shorts. She put her curls up in a high ponytail and walked downstairs to pack her gym bag with her necessities. She saw Naomi already packed and ready waiting by the door.

“Well it took you long enough princess,” Naomi teased.

“Bite me!” Gia retorted.

“Bitch you wish.” Naomi said. The girls joked and shared a bit of banter as they rode to the gym.

***

“Where did you say this gym was again?” Jay asked Gray.

“It’s just right outside of Seoul. I heard about it from a friend of mine who owns the gym. He says it’s lowkey and some artists go there when they don’t wanna attract attention,” Gray said.

“Damn. I feel like we’re going on a road trip,” Jay said.

About 30 minutes later they arrived at the gym. Jay and Gray grabbed their bags and walked into the gym. The outside was very modest but the inside looked amazing. It was huge with marble floors and walls. Jay was amazed and when he looked around his eyes landed on another amazing sight. He watched as this girl with beautiful, glowing brown skin stretched and when she bent over he felt himself stiffen a bit. Gray watched as his friend nearly exploded and started laughing. He then walked over to the front desk to talk to his friend who owns the gym.

“Hey you see those girls over there, who are they?” Gray asked pointing. Jay walked over to his side, also wanting to know who the beautiful stranger and her friend were.

“Oh that’s Naomi and Gia. Gia is the one in the shorts and Naomi is the one in the pants. Naomi’s been here a couple times. This is Gia’s first visit,” the owner said.

“So her name is Gia? Fuck even her name is sexy.” Jay said. He kept staring at Gia, only to be met with Naomi’s eyes who smirked at him.

“Okay girl don’t look now but Jay motherfucking Park is checking you out,” Naomi whispered to Gia.

“Girl what?” Gia said slightly turning her head to look at him. When they made eye contact Jay immediately looked away and began fiddling with a pamphlet on the front desk.

“He better go somewhere. Ain’t nobody worrying about him. I came to workout that’s it. I’m not trying to make a damn love connection at the gym,” Naomi said.

“But girl he is so damn fine, Gray fine ass over there too. This is a damn dream come true. I didn’t expect this shit,” Naomi said.

“Well you can fuck them both for all I care. I on the other hand am going to workout until I can’t feel my body,” Gia said. Naomi looked at her friend and rolled her eyes, going back to her own workout. 15 minutes later Gia had finished her warm up and made her way to the treadmills. She saw that no other treadmill was open but the one next to a man, a man she realized was Jay. Gia groaned and quickly approached the treadmill and slid her headphones in her ears. Jay laughed once he realized she was avoiding him so he decided to to mess with her. He took off his shirt, draping it over the bar on the treadmill. Out of his peripherals he saw Gia glance at him and he knew that this little game of his was on.

“See something you like?” Jay asked. Glancing at him sideways, Gia removed her headphones.

“Excuse me?” She asked, tilting her head a bit.

“I asked if you saw something you like. You keep staring and shit,” Jay said. He looked at her and smiled. He held out hand for her to shake but was quickly dismissed by the wave of her hand.

“I only looked because you deliberately took off your shirt to get my attention. It was desperate as fuck. I guess it’s true what people say about you. You are a cocky fuckboy,” Gia said. Jay was a little taken aback. He’d never been spoken to like that before and it was completely throwing him off.

“Hold the fuck up, you don’t even know me to make that judgement,” Jay said. He was irritated that people continued to judge him based on his image when he was more than that.

“Well what do you expect me to think when you portray yourself the way you do? Look I don’t mean to be a bitch but come on. If you’re so butthurt over what I said, how about you stop acting like a childish womanizer and show people the real you. If you’re how Naomi describes you to be then I rather see that than what I’m looking at now,” Gia said. She cut off her treadmill and walked towards the locker room.

“Wait so you know who I am?” Jay asked.

“Not really. Naomi is a fan of you and the rest of AOMG and all I hear about is how fine and talented yall are. Personally, I don’t listen to you guys nor do I plan to. Now if you excuse me I have to go,” Gia answered. She began wiping off the little sweat that accumulated on her forehead. She made her way into the locker room where she saw Naomi washing her face at the sink.

“Sooo how was it talking to Jay Park?” Naomi asked.

“He’s a fucking asshole. Though I do feel bad about the shit I said to him. I was a bit too harsh,” Gia replied.

“Wait what did you say?” Naomi asked.

“I basically called him a fuckboy, then I maybe lowkey called him fake,” Gia said. Naomi look at her friend in disgust.

“Oh my god. Dammit Gia! Before we leave you are apologizing. God I’m never gonna fuck Gray. Why are you like this?” Naomi said.

“Bitch that’s all you care about. Ain’t shit stopping you for busting it open for Gray. Look let’s just go. I’ll fucking apologize,” Gia said. They both packed their bags and made their way back into the gym lobby. They spotted Jay doing chin ups while Gray was filming him.

“Go. Now!” Naomi said. Gia whined and made her way over to Jay. Once she was close enough she cleared her throat causing both men to look at her.

“Look I know you probably won’t care but I’m sorry about earlier. I was a bitch and at times I say shit I really shouldn’t. I had no right to insult you and make assumptions the way I did. Sooo umm yeah, sorry,” Gia quickly turned around and made a beeline for the door to amusement of Jay and Gray. She was nearly there when Jay’s voice drew her right back in.

“Ya know you really didn’t have to apologize. I don’t care much about what people say however, I do plan to prove you wrong. I mean if you let me,” Jay said. As if on cue Naomi popped up right next to Gia.

“Of course she’ll let you. You should take her out and let her get to know you, ya know the real you,” Naomi said.

“NAOMI! Shit! Well this has been great. Nice to meet you-”

“Look Jay we have this thing to go to on Saturday but it shouldn’t run that late so maybe we can all meet up afterwards and hang out,” Naomi said.

“Actually we too have a thing Saturday so how about a nice Sunday brunch or some shit?” Jay replied. Gia looked between Jay and Naomi and felt defeated.

“Fine. I’ll go out with you Sunday or whatever. Can we leave now Naomi” Gia grimaced and gave Naomi a pleading look.

“Okay okay. By guys! Naomi gave Jay and Gray one more lasting look then turned and walked out the gym with Gia. Once the girls were far enough Gray turned to Jay.

“What the hell happened? We’ve only been here for a damn hour. How the fuck did you already get into it with her?” Gray asked.

“Just a misunderstanding. It’ll all be cleared up this weekend though,” Jay said.

“Just don’t fuck her. She seems like the type to get attached. We don’t need another Bora situation,” Gray said.

“Trust me, she’s definitely not Bora. Anyways, let me finish up these last few chin ups then we can go. I’m fucking starving,” Jay said. Both men laughed and once Jay was done they said goodbye to the owner and left the gym. Jay couldn’t wait to see Gia again but he definitely wasn’t prepared for the other events that happened that weekend.