#imagine him like full scary mode coming down the stairs and then immediately he sees you and he becomes moe

[yanderefarm]

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA VALENTINE EVENTS LESGO

i like to imagine Ares waking up in the crack of dawn realizing i'm not in bed and panicking planning to keep me in a cage for that only to find me in the kitchen

"Good morning! Did I wake you up too early? I went out to get some fresh strawberries... for a strawberry tart! And I got some flowers too.... I got indecisive because they're all so pretty I got one of each! pretty like you hehe Happy Valentines! (°◡°♡)"

I lub my wif

- 🐦‍⬛ anon aka YanOverload

"Hmph.... You're so mean....." ( ｡ •̀ ⤙ •́ ｡ )

"I'm supposed to take care of you today!! And you run off where I can't find you and scare me half to death and then you're being all sweet so I can't even be mad at you!! Dummy!! Don't make me fall in love with you again!!!"

"And don't take my job... I'm supposed to cook for you you're ruining everything...... mmmmhhhhhh"

(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) "Stupid. Dummy. I love you so much.... Don't run away again.... I'll cry and lock you in the basement and make you kiss me everyday!!"

[fandoms-equal-life]

Rewriting Their Stars Once Again - The Greatest Showman Fanfiction

Chapter 10: Rewriting the Stars 

Originally Posted on Ao3:  

Summary: Anne’s water has broken. What now? 

Note:

WELCOME PEOPLE TO THE CHAPTER I HAVE HAD PLANNED FOR TWO YEARS!!

Enjoy!!!

Silence.

Until Anne let out a loud groan.

Phillip ran to her aid. He wrapped his arms around her back to steady her. He was in full panic mode.

Thankfully, Charity leaped into action.

“Anne, you are alright, it is just a contraction. I am assuming all the energy it took to arrive here pushed your labor along. Now listen here, both of you, I am going to check if a baby is coming. Lettie! Bring over something to cover Anne and I!”

Lettie runs over and holds the sheet she found in front of the pair. She lifts Anne’s dress to check if she sees any heads.

“Okay, I think we have time to get her home. That is where the doctor has prepared for Anne to give birth correct?” Charity explains.

Phillip nods hurriedly. The doctor knew if Anne successfully gave birth to these babies, there was going to be no way to transfer her from the doctors office to home safely for recovery. Instead, the doctor told them what to do to prepare and he would bring the rest.

When Phillip steals a glance towards Anne, it was a lot for him to take in. She has no color in her face, completely drenched in sweat, and was biting her tongue from another contraction. He never thought she looked more beautiful.

(Anne would shove him when he retold this part of the story).

Thankfully, Charity was not as distracted.

“Someone needs to call a carriage! It needs to have a closed compartment. It will be more comfortable and, in case any Carlyle babies decide to make an entrance, we will not be arrested for public indecency!” Charity demands.

Lettie started to leave to call a carriage, when Frank interrupted, “My carriage is still out front! She can take it!”

Charity smiles at the man hurriedly, “Step one covered. Lettie still go call a carriage to bring the doctor to their house.”

Once again, Lettie went to help, when Tom came out on his horse, “Lettie bring the carriage behind me, I will ride to the office to prepare him.”

Before anyone could utter a word, he was off.

Lettie, not missing a beat, ran off to follow her friend.

Charity turns to Phillip, “We need to get her on this carriage. Let’s go.”

Charity wraps her arm around the other side of Anne, and they help her towards Frank’s carriage.

Frank runs in front of them and calls for his carriage to open and be ready to leave as soon as possible.

Charity, Phillip, and Anne board the carriage. Before the door is shut, Anne shouts “Wait!”

Everyone stops. Was something wrong?

Anne catches her breath, “I want W.D. and P.T. to ride upfront. I need them there too.”

Both men, shocked, board the carriage with the driver. Caroline and Helen wished them good luck and ran off with Daniel to find a carriage to bring over everyone else.

With the doors closed, the horses take off as W.D. and P.T. direct the driver to the apartment.

Anne is laying down on one of the benches. Nothing feels normal. She is in pain, doing all she can not to scream out. Phillip is trying to wipe the sweat off her face. Charity is feeling her belly for movement.

Anne turns to Phillip and grabs his hand, “I needed you. I thought something was wrong with our babies, I felt a pain that I knew was not a kick. I started to panic, and I was alone. The only thing I absolutely knew was that I needed you by my side.”

Phillip grabbed her hand and brought it to his heart. With a reassuring smile, he told her, “I trust you, Anne, wholeheartedly. You made the right choice for you and our babies.”

Anne smiles back until another contraction hit her. She squeezed the hand Phillip had over his heard and screamed loudly.

(W.D. told her later that people stopped in the street to stare at the screaming carriage.)

After some time, Charity felt movement in Anne. She could tell the babies were lining up.

Charity opened the window to talk to the boys. “How much farther?”

W.D. answered, “Two minutes! Keep my nieces and nephews in there a little longer!”

Anne screamed in response.

Phillip was so preoccupied by Anne, he forgot about the deal with Frank. But Anne, always observant, even in childbirth, asked, “Who’s carriage are we in?”

Phillip laughed, “A man named Frank Potter. He is the newest sponsor of the circus. He even wants us to tour in a couple years.”

Anne shot up to a sitting position, “Phillip! I cannot believe it! The circus is going to be okay.”

The biggest smile was plastered on her face. This problem plaguing her family might be over.

Then another contraction hit, and that matter was immediately forgotten.

The group finally arrived at the apartment building. Charity and Phillip helped Anne out of the carriage. Phillip threw W.D. the keys and he ran up to the apartment to let everyone in.

Doctor Turner was waiting in the lobby with Tom, Lettie, Daniel, Caroline, Helen, Annie, Emily, Rosie, and Frank. Tom’s horse was tied out front of the apartment building, being watched by the same doorman who let Anne escape.

“I cannot believe you went against my orders like this Mrs. Carlyle! Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself in?” Dr. Turner scolded.

Anne turned towards him and yelled back “NONE OF THAT MATTERS NOW GET MY CHILDREN OUT OF ME!”  

Dr. Turner had obviously never been yelled at like that before but decided that she was too scary to argue with. He turned towards the stairs and rushed into the apartment to prepare.

Charity and Phillip helped Anne up the stairs. Close behind was P.T., Daniel, Tom, Lettie, Helen, and Caroline. Rosie, Emily, Annie, and Frank decided to wait in the lobby.

Phillip and Charity placed Anne on the bed. Dr. Turner was barking orders at the other people to prepare hot water and bring him towels. He went to prepare his tools when he saw Phillip perched next to Anne.

“Mr. Carlyle, I must ask you to leave the room during the birth. It is improper for the husband to be present.”

Phillip was not sure what to do. Charity was about to protest when Anne propped herself up on her elbows to speak.

“Dr. Turner, if you have not noticed there is nothing proper about my family. You were notified that I had gone into labor by a man on horse and a woman with a beard. I rode in a stranger’s carriage who is now sitting in the lobby with his entire family. And finally, I am a black woman married to a white man, giving birth to his children. I do not give a DAMN about what is proper!” Anne said, ending it with another scream from a contraction.

Charity turned towards the doctor and said, “I do not think Mr. Carlyle is going anywhere.”

Flabbergasted, Dr. Turner turned towards the open door of the bedroom.

“I require silence from the peanut gallery while I work. I will be closing the door to begin now.

W.D. quickly rushed in to give his sister a kiss and a reassuring hand squeeze. After P.T. gave a couple a quick bow, Charity met her husband outside so he could wish her good luck, as she was to help during the birth. Helen and Caroline waved and bounced around, yelling at Anne how much they loved her and her babies. Lettie and Tom gave big smiles and waves while the door closed.

~

During the three hours that followed, the peanut gallery was on the edge of their seats. Caroline and Helen joined the family in the lobby when Anne’s screaming became too much for them. W.D. and P.T. sat closest to the door, listening to every detail. It was agonizing for the group to hear the screams of pain from Anne, they can only imagine how Phillip felt.

Caroline and Helen had returned after about two hours. Frank and Annie insisted that they were going to remain in the lobby with Emily and Rosie. The pair made it through the door when the first cry broke through. W.D. and Lettie openly wept while the girls hugged their father. Tom and P.T. swear not a tear was shed by them, but Helen says otherwise.

A couple minutes after the first cry, an even louder wail came from behind the door. Excitement rang through the peanut gallery.

Ten minutes later, there was still no third cry. Minutes felt like hours as the doctor kept telling Anne to push.

Then, barely audible, the third Carlyle baby gave the softest cry Dr. Turner said he had ever heard from a newborn.

Another agonizing hour, the group sat outside the door of the bedroom while Anne was taken care of and Charity and Phillip tended to the new babies.

Finally, Doctor Turner opened the door. Everyone stood up in haste. With a small smile, Turner said, “I am happy to announce that today, July 15th, Mrs. Carlyle has successfully given birth to three healthy babies.”

The doctor moved aside to reveal Anne holding two bundles and Phillip holding one. Anne looks exhausted but Phillip beckoned for everyone to come into the bedroom.

The doctor left the room while W.D., P.T., Daniel, Lettie, Tom, Helen, and Caroline entered. It was cramped, but no one seemed to care.

Everyone is smiling, congratulating the couple. Caroline and Helen were trying to be polite, but they could not keep their wish in any longer.

“What are their names?” Helen exclaimed.

Caroline followed with a “Please tell us!”

The couple looked at one another, while the group laughed at their impatience. They had decided the names a while ago but kept it a secret until they saw the babies in person.

Phillip turned his bundle towards the crowd. The lightest skin of the three with brown hair on the top of his head slept soundly in his arms.

Anne said, “His name is Phillip James Carlyle, Jr.”

Phillip interrupted saying “Anne insisted the first boy be a Jr. She always loved the idea.”

Charity picked up one of the bundles in Anne’s arm. As soon as the little one left Anne’s arm, it started to squirm. She managed to show the crowd the second baby with big brown eyes.

Phillip said, “Baby boy number two is named William Daniel Carlyle, W.D. for short, after our supportive brothers.”

Charity placed baby W.D. in uncle W.D.’s arms. Daniel shuffled over to see. He seemed to calm again once he was in his uncle’s arms.

Everyone’s attention was on Anne and the last bundle. She moved the blanket to reveal a baby girl. She was a carbon copy of her mother, but with her father’s blue eyes. The baby girl looked around the room, as if she was observing them.

Anne looked up with tears in her eyes, “This is Penelope Taylor, P.T. Carlyle, after the man who started it all.”

The crowd turned to P.T Barnum himself to see tears streaming down his face. He walked towards Anne, who placed the baby girl in his arms. Hazel eyes stare down at blue. P.T. silently promised to this little girl he would do anything for her.

Anne looked around at these people, her family, cooing at her babies. She turns towards Phillip and motions for him to give her Phillip Jr., who they have already started to call P.J.

Anne looked down at the sleeping face. “I did it, Phillip. I actually did it.”

Phillip stroked her hair and said, “I always knew you could.”

Chapters 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 ~ 5 ~ 6 ~ 7 ~ 8 ~ 9 ~ 11

[artificialqueens]

How Far I'll Go - Chapter 3 (Nina West/Monet X Change) - Meggie, Mia Ugly

A/N: They aren’t REALLY writing an entire season of All Stars, are they?

Thanks to everyone who’s been reading/liking this so far, as well as the Branjie discord for being awesome on the daily. This is a long chapter, almost 10k, so settle in. The link to the original song will be posted later today; I wish I could say that was a joke but it isn’t.

Chapter Three - Heart ablaze, banners high

“Hey y’all. I’m here to show you how the West was won.”

Nina struts into the Werk Room, poses briefly with his hands on his hips before firing a round of bubbles into the air. The first thing he hears is “Bitch!” in Vanjie’s unmistakable voice. After he crosses the floor to meet the other queens, Vanjie is the first one to hug him. 

“Yaaas!” Vanjie says with his arms around Nina’s neck. “Come through, girl.”

Nina introduces himself/has a small meltdown over the other queens. Asia O’Hara is perfection on legs, dressed in a very short, sexy caterpillar costume which shouldn’t work but does. Blair St. Clair has ditched the Broadway baby look for full-on seventies supermodel. Nina Bo’nina Brown is padded for the gods and serving  I Dream of Jeannie realness.  She and Vanjie are all over each other; Nina had forgotten how hilarious they are when they’re together. Also there, also sickening, is Shea Coulee (Nina resists the urge to immediately kiss the crown goodbye.  This queen, this fucking queen). 

The next through the doorway is Laganja Estranja (“Is it four-twenty up in hurrrrrr?” DEATH DROP) who hasn’t changed.  At all. Following her is Ivyyyy Wiiinters who is - a lot hotter in person than Nina expected. He knows he should be strategizing already but he’s so overwhelmed and grateful to be back in the game that it’s hard not to feel anything but excited.  

He needs to put himself inside the head of - someone like Brooke.  Brooke would have clocked everyone’s weak spots by now, would be thinking about who he’d want on his team and who the first girl home was going to be. Nina - frankly hasn’t got a clue.  It won’t be him though, it absolutely cannot be him.

The next queen to enter the room is - oh.  

Lovely.

Miz Cracker.  Fan favourite and smart as hell. Nina smiles at her, hoping that whatever happened at Drag Con was a one-off.  Cracker looks past him like he’s wallpaper, even as she shrieks and laughs and hugs all the others. 

Not good, Nina. He can already feel the weight of rejection on his chest. It’s stupid, problematic, and familiar. That need to be liked rises to the surface any time he feels insecure or out of his depth.  Like now.  Now is exactly that time, and it’s also the time he should care about making friends the least. 

Head in the game, he tells himself. It’s not RuPaul’s best friends race.

There’s only one queen left to arrive.  Nina watches Vanjie watching the doorway, waiting for the last entrance. Nina has a couple predictions in his mind, but nothing he’d feel confident betting money on.

And then -

“Oh bitch.” Vanjie exhales sharply. “Fuck.”

Because Brooke Lynn Hytes has strolled through the door, wrapped in black and red studded straps, reminiscent of his Orange Alert runway and the bondage fantasy from the finale. It’s full on dominatrix mode, right down to the black stilettos and riding crop in his hand. It’s a look and the bitch is turning it, but… God, Nina feels bad for Vanjie. Because apparently, even the happiest exes alive don’t share everything. 

All the color is gone from Vanessa’s face.

“You didn’t… He didn’t tell me either,” Nina says softly, but he knows it isn’t enough.  If this surprise hurts him this badly, he can only imagine what it feels like for Vanessa. 

Vanjie shakes his head and studies the floor until Brooke makes his rounds to greet everyone. Brooke embraces Nina tightly (and okay, Nina loves him, is happy to see him) but pauses in front of Vanjie, as if unsure of what to do. Vanjie bristles a little before pulling himself upright and stretching his arms out to Brooke. 

The cameras are on and they are both professionals.

They hug, but Nina can feel the tension between them, and wonders if the rest of the queens can as well.

It’s going to be an interesting season for sure.

He doesn’t have time to speak again, however, because the door opens and Ru’s voice rings through the Werk Room. “Hello, hello, hello!”

Everyone cheers, but Nina’s smile feels a bit false.  He’s got to put this whole thing with Brooke and Vanjie to the side; he’s here for himself, not to be a supporting character in their story. Focus, Nina.

“Welcome to All Stars! My darlings!” Ru comes down the stairs, smiling. He’s dressed in a powder blue suit with tiny feathers printed on it and looks exactly like he did when Nina last saw him. 

“When I look across this room at all your beautiful and familiar faces, only one word comes to mind: security!”

The camera crew moves in to catch the queens all laughing. It’s kind of scary how quickly you get used to it, the scurrying motion of people and technology like insects. Nina chuckles like he knows he’s supposed to, trying not to look at Brooke and Vanjie out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh.” Ru mimes getting a note in his ear piece. “You’re all supposed to be here?  Even better! To recognize the charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent that got you past the metal detectors, I’m throwing the event of the season and your first maxi challenge: an All Star Talent Show Extravaganza!”

Nina knew this was coming. He’s ready for it.

“But - there’s one more thing.”

Nina feels Vanjie reach down and grab his hand, nails digging into his wrist. Ru makes a show of counting the girls up, and Nina’s heart fucking drops.

“Ten queens.  That’s a nice even number, but - as it is All Stars Season five, I think we’ve got room for some more. Oh laaaadiiies!”

One of the side doors opens, and Vanjie starts murmuring, “no no no no,” under his breath. Nina doesn’t even have the time to imagine who might be coming in before - Chad Michaels? - steps through the door. He’s not in drag, looking ageless and wiry in a faded t-shirt and jeans. 

“Hi Chad!” Ru exclaims, fake-surprised and delighted. “So nice to see you! Did you come alone?”

“Not since the Uber. Oh! You mean -” Chad glances back at the doorway.  “I’m sorry, I tried to lose them.”

“Hiiiiiiiieeeee!” Alaska sticks his head out.

The queens around Nina lose their collective shit, jumping up and down, snapping and cheering.  Alaska is followed by Trixie fucking Mattel (out of drag like the others, looking adorable in a vintage cowboy shirt and bolo tie.  Nina might have tears in his eyes all of a sudden - but look away, it’s fine). 

Clearly, the winners of previous seasons are back.  Which means - 

Fucking hell, don’t - 

Shit.

Trinity the Tuck comes through - followed by Monet Goddamn X Change.

The room erupts in cheers. Nina immediately glances away, but he’s not fast enough to avoid the fact that Monet looks objectively -

Monet looks -

Great. Obviously. Smiling in his round teal glasses and a sweatshirt covered with roses (Nina always had a weakness for thick-rimmed glasses, it’s his tragic flaw, it doesn’t mean anything). He carefully keeps his focus on Vanessa, makes a ridiculous “O” of surprise with his mouth, instead of risking eye-contact with the handsomest man in the room (who was also probably the best sex Nina’s had in an unfortunate length of time and whose number he never called and -)

Enough, Nina. Do some mindful breathing or something.

Monet and Trinity play up the jealous sibling angle as they cross the floor, holding hands while getting into each other’s space and jostling for attention. They come to stand in a line up beside Ru, who looks them over.

“Y’all look different than I remember. What is it? Oh right, you’re old.”

There’s laughter but it’s a bit weak.  Clearly none of the competing girls have any idea what’s going on. Nina doesn’t think Ru would throw five new queens into this season, but - worse things have happened.  And the returning queens aren’t in drag. They look good, though - some of them look extremely good and… probably taste like mint and… Jesus Christ, get it together.

“For the first time in All Stars herstory, I thought I’d give you girls a little professional help. ‘Cause from where I’m standing, you need it.” Ru gestures to his returning queens. “Ladies, for this season, each of you will be matched with one of our reigning All Stars. Now, these All Stars are here to act as your mentors only; they will not be competing for the crown.  And you will still be judged individually, regardless of how your other teammate performs. As always, All Stars rules do apply.”

Okay, okay, this situation is still salvageable. They’re here to act as mentors, Nina can handle that. She’s not going to have to go toe to toe against Monet in some sort of horrifying lip-sync. They aren’t going to be the Branjie of the season, led to the slaughter for ratings, laid bare at the reunion for the entire world to rub salt in the wounds. It’s okay.

“However.  Mentors, if one of the queens on your team wins a lip-sync, you will receive a cash tip of five thousand dollars.”

Nina wonders how long is too long to look at Vanjie. It’s probably been too long already - he’ll look at Ru.  There, that’s fine. Just keep your eyes somewhere - safe. And smile.  Or don’t smile? What’s the appropriate reaction right now? Nina is missing pieces of this conversation.

“And if a queen from your team is the winner of All Stars Season Five, not only will she win one-hundred thousand dollahs and a spot in the Drag Race Hall of Fame, but you will win a bonus prize of twenty-five thousand dollars. So choose your team wisely - cause some of y’all clearly need the money.” Ru eyes up Chad Michaels, who nods and gestures at his face.

“I won’t say no.  All of this is about to expire.”

“Girl, we can tell,” Trinity shouts over at him.

“Oh, I just love these family get togethers!” Ru laughs and clasps his hands together as he studies them all. “But however shall we pick teams?” He presses a finger to his chin as he pretends to ponder the situation. 

Nina’s stomach churns, but - Ru doesn’t know. No one knows. Unless -

“A draft!” Ru announces gleefully. “That’s something from sports, I think. Nina West, you know about sports right?” Ru makes a broad-shouldered motion with his hands, and Nina smiles tightly. 

“Ask me anything at all about locker rooms.”

 “Come find me on the break,” Ru says very seriously. “Now, mentors - each of you will get to choose one queen for your team twice. I think it’s only fair to go in order.”

There’s bickering between the mentors - Trinity and Monet are of course pressed that they’ll have last pick - but Trinity eventually relents, after Monet reminds her that age should come before beauty.

Nina steels himself as the draft starts. He’s never been the kid that gets picked first for anything, and it’s hard not to immediately go back to that middle school shame-place that still lives somewhere in his lizard brain. He just hopes he isn’t picked last. And deep, deep down, he kind of hopes that Trixie chooses him. They’re similar, he’s always thought. Campy, musically inclined. He’d love to learn from her, really pick her brain, score a guest appearance on UNHhhh, where he’d sit with her and Katya and they’d all be best friends and - that’s enough.

Chad makes a show of looking the queens over before he makes his selection and it’s so obvious. “Brooke Lynn Hytes,” he announces with a grin. Of course Brooke’s first.

Brooke claps and smiles, but Nina doesn’t miss the way Vanessa’s eyes roll back in his head. Honestly? He feels kind of the same way.

Alaska chooses Nina Bo’nina which makes total sense. They’re both quirky queens who are all about their brand, and it feels like a good fit.

Trixie’s pick is next.  Nina feels himself straighten involuntarily, but Trixie barely hesitates before she trills, “It’s time for Crackerrrrrr!” and holds out her arms to the smaller man.

So that’s - that. 

There’s the next round, of course, but does Nina really want to be on a team with a queen that hates him for no apparent reason? He sighs, the tension in his shoulders building. It’s going to be Grade Six kickball all over again.

The Tuck chooses Blair (also not surprising).  Then it’s Monet’s turn, and, oh God, he’s looking past Nina, which is… Probably for the best. Definitely. Definitely probably for the best.

Then Monet’s eyes narrow behind his glasses.  He crosses his arms over his chest, purses his lips together (and Jesus, what Nina remembers about those lips on his own and wrapped around his - not the time).

“Nina West.”

Nina’s head snaps up. He doesn’t move because - surely this is a joke. But Monet is standing there in front of him, the most neutral expression on his face, watching him.

“That’s you, girl,” Vanjie whispers beside him.

Nina nods.  Nods again. He got chosen before Vanjie? In what alternate universe is this All Stars season happening?

He plasters a smile across his lips and walks forward, embraces Monet, plants air kisses on both of his cheeks. (His skin tingles where their faces brush. He should have called. At the very least texted.)

The draft starts from the beginning again while Nina awkwardly frets over what to do with his hands. Chad chooses Shea Coulee (clearly), and Alaska chooses Laganja, which is… Well, it’s a choice, certainly, but Nina believes in giving people second (and third and twentieth, most of the time) chances.  Then it’s Trixie Mattel’s turn and she doesn’t pause a second before calling out, “Miss Vaaanjie.” 

Nina isn’t jealous. Genuinely, he isn’t.  The look on Vanjie’s face when Trixie calls his name is like the opposite of jealousy. Nina can’t help but glance over at Brooke to see if he notices it too (he does.  Nina can tell. Brooke thinks he’s being cool but the way his eyes shift when Vanjie smiles is just - it’s kind of sad. And kind of obvious. And it makes Nina wonder why he ever thought he had a chance with this blonde goddess when - the way Brooke looks at Vanjie is something completely different).

Monet hassles Trinity into letting him pick next and is practically vibrating with excitement over drafting Asia O’Hara for his team. Which leaves Ivy Winters, who does not look pressed at all about being chosen last and bounds over to join Trinity and Blair.

“All right ladies. Now you’ll have time to meet with your mentors and plan your act.  And tomorrow night, you’ll perform in front of a full house in my All Star Extravagaaaanza! Gentlemen, start your engines.  And may the best All Star… win!”

* * *

“Okay, Team X Change. I’mma call you the X-Queens, what do you think? The Tuck is calling her girls ‘The Holy Trinity,’ and we can do better than that.”

Monet has pulled a chair over to Asia and Nina’s stations, which they’ve set up beside each other. Nina is trying to be the least embarrassing version of himself possible. He might regret bringing bubble guns.

“Obviously, I’m Professor X.” Monet gestures to his bald head. “You can be Storm,” he says to Asia (who seems extremely happy about that, and justifiably so). “And you -” He looks at Nina, who swallows anxiously. 

“Wolverine?” he manages, and Monet laughs.

“Girl. Nah, you’re a Jean Grey. Just use those powers for good, okay? Don’t want no Dark Phoenix up in here.” Monet smiles but the smile is a bit forced, charming only on the surface. Underneath it, there’s something else. “So what you all thinking for this challenge? I got money on the line, remember that.”

Cool, flawless, beautiful Asia laughs, but Nina’s laugh doesn’t quite squeak out of his throat. 

“I’m just going to lip-sync,” Asia says. “What I do best.”

Monet nods. “Yes, I live. I’ve seen you girl.  What about you, Nina West?”

Nina was counting on this challenge coming up at some point in the season. He’s got an idea but - he’s not sure how well received it will be.

“I was thinking of maybe doing… magic?”

Asia stares at him. 

“Like last season we did a magic show. And I thought -”

“Like real magic?” Asia asks, dubiously. “With wands and shit?”

“Girl! She’s not a fucking wizard.” Monet laughs.  “Well, that sounds - unique. That’s something I want to see. You going to cut someone in half or something?”

“Maybe. Depends if I can find a saw.”

“And we already know you can make yourself disappear, so -” Monet stops. He meets Nina’s eyes with a sudden look of panic - but the look is gone just as quickly.  So quickly Nina thinks maybe he imagined it, because Monet’s smiling widely again, poised and professional. “So we’ve got a plan. Good job team, mentoring done. Cut the cheque!”

They spend a bit of time talking about Asia’s dance number before splitting up so that Nina can practice a couple of the tricks he’s learned since Season 11. He was feeling pretty confident about it initially, but now that he’s surrounded by some of the most talented queens working today, he’s wondering if it’s too little.  Or too much? 

Fuck it. He puts on shows for a living, it’s what he does.  The judges were in love with his magician character last season.  He just has to build on it. And - no shade, of course - but at least he isn’t lip-syncing and dancing to his own single like ninety percent of the other queens seem to be planning.  A magic show will stand out.  In… some kind of way.

 They break for lunch a bit later, lining up at the craft services table.  Nina checks in with Vanjie and also tries not to ask too many questions about what Trixie Mattel is like in real life. He was worried he might start fangirling like an idiot when he saw her, but as soon as they called for a break, Trixie made a very intense sounding call on her cell phone (which apparently the mentors get to keep on them) and disappeared. 

“She’s good,” Vanjie tells Nina as they eat some sort of lettuce wraps that keep falling apart in their hands. “Though just you try to get her off her phone.  She on that grind twenty-four seven, maybe. How’s Monet?”

Um. (Really cute. And sweet. And an astonishing kisser, Nina’s feeling a bit dizzy just thinking about it.)

“Great,” he says.

 Vanjie gives him a look.

“That sounded fake as hell.” For all that Vanessa is a terrible actor, he’s pretty good at clocking lies in other people. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Nina stammers. “He’s - it’s great.”

“Why you being all weird and shit? You talking ‘bout him like he’s a snack cracker. It’s great! Kids love it!”  Vanjie does his best cool dad impression, and Nina almost chokes on his wrap.

“Oh my God, please stop with that voice.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this voice, ho. I’m -” But before he can say anything else, Brooke comes into the break room.  Every muscle in Vanjie’s body seems to stiffen. Nina watches it out of the corner of his eye, a slow tightening of Vanjie’s arms, straightening of his back. Defenses going up.

“I - I gotta have words with your girl,” he says softly. “Catch you later.” 

Nina watches him cross the floor to Brooke, watches Brooke’s face go through a weird and painful series of expressions as Vanjie gets closer (hopefearlustlonging).

Those two idiots, Nina thinks, and the thought is so loud in his head that it should basically be telepathy (is that a Jean Grey thing? Or is that telekinesis? It’s been years since Nina dug out his old comic books).

As he scans the room, he accidentally makes eye contact with Monet.

Shit. Abort, abort.  Look anywhere else. Pretend that you’ve gone blind.

It’s too late, however, because Monet is nodding at him. Smiling. And oh fuck, oh God, he’s coming over.

“Hey,” he says, leaning against the wall beside Nina (who has suddenly forgotten how to eat, is just moving his wrap around on his plate as it falls to pieces). “Can’t wait to see your show tomorrow. Magic!” 

He does an impression of Nina’s ridiculous catchphrase, and Nina laughs awkwardly.  Nina is doing too many things awkwardly right now; pick another adverb, Mary.

“Feel good to be back?” 

“Still, um, getting used to it. But yes.”  Just fucking say it, just - get it over with before there are cameras on them again. “Listen, about - that night.  The - uh, finale -”

“Girl.” Monet holds up a hand, stopping him from saying anything more. “I get it.  I ain’t pressed about it. So just put that outta your head, okay? We’re cool.”

And Nina might be imagining it, but Monet seems - a bit redder than usual. The edge of his cheekbones, the tips of his ears.

Nina looks away.  

“Just you focus on the crown, right?” Monet continues quietly. “It’s yours if you want it. I know what you can do.”

The quietness is - unusual. For him. Nina knows Monet as this commanding presence at the centre of every crowd, able to hold court in a packed bar, able to revive a dying audience with a wave of his hand. The weird fragility is a side Nina hasn’t seen before, and he has no idea what to say in response. Silence stretches between them. 

And then Cracker runs across the room and throws herself into Monet’s arms.

“Cracks!” Monet cheers. “How you doing?”

“So much for friendship, dick,” Miz Cracker says with a smile as she hugs Monet. “I thought you’d want me on your team for sure!”

“It ain’t my fault Miss Trixie scooped you up, though I can’t blame her.”

“Well, you should have won an earlier season!” Cracker responds with a smack to Monet’s arm. She glances at Nina, looks him up and down with cold brown eyes. “Then you wouldn’t have gotten - stuck with the questionable choices.”

Nina takes a step away, and then another.  Pulls a Miss Vanjie, walks backwards until he’s not so up in Monet’s personal space, and Cracker’s weird hostility. Neither of them are distractions he can afford right now.  Monet said they were cool. So they’re cool, right? And whatever Cracker’s problem is, Nina’s got to put it out of his head.

He tries. As he rehearses his act on the main stage, he tries. But Cracker is there, too, just out of the corner of his eye. Her head is bent low, talking quietly and intensely with Monet, who looks… Annoyed? Maybe? It could be wishful thinking.

That night, he and Brooke eat cold pizza in Nina’s room (the door is open at the P.A.’s insistence, and Nina feels a bit like a teenager, but whatever).

“You should have told him,” Nina says and Brooke doesn’t even have to ask what they’re talking about.  He nods.

“I literally couldn’t.” He repeats Nina’s own words back to him. “If he knew - everyone would know. The moment I stepped into the Werk Room. He’s - both of us are - not the greatest actors.”

“Hmm, not the greatest, bit of an overestimation -”

“Fuck off.  You know it’d be obvious as hell. And - I didn’t even think I’d say yes.  I kept thinking - but then after the finale, when they asked -”

“So why did you? Say yes. They’re going to make this the Branjie story again, right? Of course they will. Is that what you want?”

“No. I mean - I don’t know.” Brooke pauses. Sighs. “I guess I just felt like I couldn’t say no. He’s fucking furious, by the way.”

“I’m sure he is.” On some level - Nina gets it. He’s glad Brooke’s got another chance, of course he is.  Brooke’s perfection and he deserves it. But it’s hard for Nina not to feel like he doesn’t stand a chance with Brooke in the mix. Brooke almost won last time. That last lip sync was so close, it could have been either of them.  (Nina might have a theory as to why it wasn’t Brooke, and the fact that Brooke’s sitting across from him in the hotel with Vanessa a few doors down is doing a lot to confirm it.)

“So you said yes because you felt like you had to,” Nina says slowly, “but you already knew Vanjie was coming. You knew I was coming.” (Though Nina doubts that would have affected Brooke’s decision at all.) “Why didn’t you tell them you’d come for the next season?”

Brooke tosses his pizza crust onto the paper plate on the bed and shrugs. “You never know if you’re going to get next season. If I’d said no, they could have written me off, or—”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it. You’re golden. They love you.” He normally isn’t this firm, not with Brooke, but Brooke also isn’t usually this avoidant of the truth. And Nina knows he isn’t getting the truth from the man sitting across from him. It bothers him. He’s good at reading people, great at reading Brooke after a decade-long friendship, but there’s been a boundary up ever since the season ended.  Really - ever since he broke things off with Vanjie. 

Nina might have been too firm, because Brooke lowers his eyes and shrugs. Starts to shut down. So Nina tries a softer approach. 

“Why are you really here, Brooke?”

“Maybe - I’m just tired of always being the first runner-up.  Never being enough,” Brooke finally says, and there’s pain there; a real, raw ache that is palpable from the timbre of his voice. “I won Continental and then…” He shakes his head. “First runner up. Always. Almost, but never quite - I just… I thought maybe on All Stars I could…” Brooke meets Nina’s eyes again, gives him a self-deprecating smile. “Show them I’m enough.”

For God’s sake. Nina hugs him, pulls him tight to his chest. “You’ve always been enough for me.”

“Thanks.” Brooke sniffles.

“But, and I need you to hear me very clearly,” Nina says, “even though I love you, you’re going to have to work, bitch.  Because I fully plan on sending your ass back to Canada the first chance I get.”

Brooke throws back his head and laughs. “Just try it.”

“Oh, I’ll do more than try. I’m taking the crown this season.”

 “Not so congenial anymore.” Brooke is still laughing, so Nina laughs too. And just for a moment, with the cold pizza and laughter between them, he could almost forget that they’re back at Drag Race, back in the (second) most important competition of both of their lives.

That night, when Nina lies in bed with his headphones in - listening to the potential lip-sync song for the next day, not that he’s counting his chickens or anything - he feels like maybe he can do this. Maybe he should be here, even in the presence of all this greatness. Even if - even around - someone like Monet.

(“If I’m shining everybody gonna shine,” Lizzo sings in his ear, and Nina closes his eyes tight. Hopes that he can be shiny enough to stay.)

* * *

The mentors aren’t in the Werk Room the next day, but they’re going to be in the audience at the show. That’s - maybe for the best. For all that he tells himself to focus, Nina is still acutely aware of where Monet is in the room, and it’s - unsettling.  He doesn’t need that weird sixth sense distracting him right now. (He’s pretty sure that isn’t a Jean Grey thing.)

He paints in the mirror between Asia and Brooke, only half listening as Laganja and Vanjie’s conversation gradually gets louder and more snarly. There’s something off about Vanessa today. It’s clearly nerves and Nina kind of wishes he could go over there and hug him, but he’s not going to step between Vanjie and Laganja and risk getting an acrylic to the eye.

Nina takes in a few deep breaths, blocks them out, focuses on blending his eyeshadow. Purples into pinks. Pinks into whites. Black liner wings. Thick. Thicker. Thickest.

Then it’s frighteningly quiet all of a sudden, and Brooke is gone from his side. 

He shifts his focus in the mirror and sees Brooke holding tightly to Vanessa’s shoulders, speaking quiet words to him. And while Vanjie still looks pressed, still shoots death glares across the room where Laganja has stormed away (and is, naturally, still talking), he isn’t vibrating with rage anymore.

“So use it,” he hears Brooke say softly. “Channel it. Win.”

And Vanjie nods, shrugs out of the hug Brooke tries to pull him into, and walks straight out of the Werk Room.

Brooke returns to the mirror at Nina’s side and heaves a long sigh.

“All good?” Nina asks, gluing on his lashes.

“Sure,” Brooke says with a smile that seems a little forced. “All good.”

When they’re finished painting, the P.A.s come by to grab them, take them to the main stage. Nina is the ninth act up, and so he gets to sit with the audience in the  meantime. The mentors are there as well, in full awards-show drag, and it - only knocks him one step backwards when he sees Monet in black sequins. Sheer panels down each side. Purple lipstick.

“Hello, my X-Queens.” Monet smiles broadly as Nina and Asia walk past to find their seats. “Asia, look at you girl! Stunning. And Miss Nina West -”

Nina flinches a bit, not knowing what to expect.  He’s going for campy, not glamourous, and compared to Asia - or Monet - well, there’s no comparison. None.

“Gorgeous,” Monet says simply, smile turning soft. 

Nina swallows. “You too,” he chokes out through a throat that is suddenly completely dry, the Sahara Desert.  He sounds more like Harvey Fierstein than he did during Snatch Game.

Abort, abort. Nina gets away as fast as he can, grabs an empty seat without really caring if it’s his. 

“You okay?” Asia asks him, and Nina nods, doesn’t dare try to speak again.  He’ll grab some water before his act. 

A second later, Vanessa slams into the seat beside Nina, legs folded and arms crossed. Nina gives him an anxious look and decides to risk it.

“What’s going on with you and Laganja?”

Vanjie just blinks his eyelashes. 

“Bitch is just running her mouth about shit that don’t concern her, like who gets to come back and when. Shit like that.”

“Oh.” Nina thinks back to Brooke’s hands onVanjie’s shoulders, voice quiet and intent. “Are you all right?”

He hears Vanjie take a deep breath. Sees his chest rise and fall in his peripheral vision.

“I’m gonna use it.” He casts a pressed look over at Nina, pursing his lips. “But don’t tell that blonde bitch I said any of this.”

Which one? Nina wants to ask. Brooke or Laganja?

“Never,” Nina swears, and then the rest of the queens file in beside them and the show begins.

Blair St. Clair is up first, singing. She struts slowly toward the standing microphone in the middle of the stage, dressed like a sixties songstress. As the torch-song instrumental track kicks in, Blair looks up and catches Nina’s eye.  

And starts to sing:

“This is awwwwkward.

He’s seen you naked, now you’re on TV.

I’m pretty sure the other queens can see

How obvious you’re being, 

Nina…”

Nina - cannot be hearing this right. He looks at Asia and Vanjie beside him, but neither one of them seem to think anything is weird about Blair’s song.

“This is awwwwkward.

You have to work together on this show

Now it’s a countdown ‘til the judges know

That you got drunk and made it awkward…”

Someone has turned on a disco ball, and the stage is covered with spinning flecks of mirrored light. The music picks up, beat growing harder.

“You can’t blame tequila for this.

Blame it all on a kiss.

Blame the night, the mood

The way you were feeling….

You can’t say it was a mistake

Cuz girl I see your hand shake

When you push it down inside you 

Though you try you cannot fight the -”

At this point, Blair stretches out her arm, fully pointing at Nina in the crowd, while she takes the melody up an octave.

“Awwwwkward 

You thought you left it in the past somewhere 

But good God girl don’t let him see you stare 

Nina West  I swear 

You’ll make it awwwkward…”

People are clapping, but Nina hears it coming from another room, as if there are walls between him and the rest of the audience. That couldn’t have been - that wasn’t -

“She kinda all over the place, huh?” Asia whispers to him

Nina has momentarily forgotten how to speak. He tries to clear his throat.

“What was… Um. Her song was called what again?”

Asia laughs. “Girl, I don’t even know. ‘Heathered’ or ‘Flickered.’ Some shit like that. Why, you wanna buy it on iTunes?”

“Not, um. Not ‘Awkward’?” Because he knows what he heard. A song directed right at him. Because his instincts were right and everyone knows what happened the night of the finale.

“No.” Asia narrows her eyes. “Though that could probably be a song about her career since Season Ten. Oh, bitch -  ‘Ganja’s act’s up.”

It’s… An act. It’s supposed to be some kind of lyrical dance piece, and Nina knows that Laganja is an incredible dancer, but this is… Well. Not great, to be honest. It’s an excellent distraction from his incoming panic attack, and Nina almost sighs in relief. He can at least do better than this number, if nothing else. 

Nina Bo’nina Brown shocks the hell out of everyone when she produces a silver flute from underneath a caftan and skillfully plays a rendition of Sissy That Walk. Ru looks impressed, if maybe a little bored. Nina tries not to bite off his acrylics.

The real wildcard is Ivy because everyone remembers her stilts and everyone remembers her voice, and if it were Nina, he’d sing an aria while parading around on stilts because hey. Work what you’ve got.

But instead they cut almost all the lights, and Ivy performs a shadow puppetry show full of jokes that Nina’s sure he could process if only he wasn’t so damn nervous.

Shea lip-syncs, and fucking slays it just like Nina knew she would. There are three reveals, if he’s counting right. Vanjie’s fingers have gradually tightened around Nina’s wrist, and by the time Shea’s act is over and Vanessa is up, Nina’s fairly certain he has bruises. 

Vanjie stands, straightens his silver beaded gown, and sucks in a deep breath. Then Brooke leans forward and fixes a strand of fringe that’s snagged on Vanessa’s pantyhose. Vanjie jerks away like he’s been scalded.

“Break a leg,” Brooke says softly, trying his hardest not to look hurt by the reaction.

Vanjie nods and sets his jaw before marching backstage. 

Nina shakes his head, focuses on his own routine instead of the drama playing out in front of him.

Whatever’s happening between Vanessa and Laganja, whatever’s happening between him and Brooke, Vanjie absolutely channels it. Nina can’t remember how many times he’s seen Vanjie perform, but this is unparalleled. It’s like lightning set loose on the stage. He’s a whirlwind of silver beads, white feathers, peach hair, spinning-melding-mixing to the throbbing bass of a Lorde song Nina’s heard but can’t place. Despite his nerves, Nina can’t turn away. Behind him, Brooke is steadily tearing his copy of the lineup into confetti. 

That’s a legitimate fucking All Star.

Asia dances the house down, then Miz Cracker has Ru and Michelle hanging onto each other and crying from her standup. Whatever weirdness is going on between Nina and Cracker is beside the point.  The bitch is hilarious and that could be a problem for him.

He knows there are acting challenges to come (All Stars is infamous for them), and it would be nice to have Cracker on his side. Whatever this rift is, he needs to mend it and quickly.

So when Cracker comes off stage, Nina reaches for her hand and congratulates her. “You were great!” he says with enthusiasm.

Cracker gives him a terse smile, flips her hair, and takes her seat next to Blair. Nina guesses a terse smile is better than a look of pure vitriol. Progress. Progress is good. 

Blair… Blair’s been crying quietly ever since she came off stage. Apparently she’s very upset with her number. To be honest, Nina’s pretty upset with her number also. He knows what he heard. What he can’t figure out is why no one else seems at all shocked about it.  (Okay, so maybe Nina might be hallucinating.  What’s a bit of light hallucination between friends?) 

A couple of P.A.s set up Nina’s props for him while the cameras are resetting. He feels himself spiraling, but shakes his head, refusing to be rattled. He tries to focus on his character, on the challenge that he’s about to fucking slay. He tries to focus on the crown.

But as he walks out onto the stage, blinking at first against the lights, the only thing he can see is the corner of Monet’s mouth, lips curling as he says “Gorgeous,” eyes warm and intent like - like he means it (which he doesn’t, which he can’t, which -)

“Ladies and gentlemen and gentlemen and ladies and gentlemen!” Nina greets the audience.  

He takes a breath -

- and by the time he exhales the act is over. He’s walking off stage, hands trembling with adrenaline.  

They laughed, right? He’s pretty sure they laughed. Did Ru laugh? He might have. Nina can’t remember most of it.

As he moves on autopilot back to his seat, some of the other queens congratulate him.  It couldn’t have been a complete disaster then? He catches Monet’s eye, and Monet smiles. (Nina feels that smile like electricity, running through his nervous system and lighting it up like a Christmas tree.)

Stop it.

Vanjie squeezes his arm when he sits back down. He’s beaming. 

“Bitch, it’s over.  That’s the show, sis. Cut the cheque.”

“I - really? Thank you, I mean.  Really?”

“Don’t be all modest and shit, you must’ve heard the judges laughing. Thought Ru was gonna die, I’m serious.  Trixie probably already dialing 9-1-1. Bitch is on that phone enough.”

Nina has no idea what Vanjie’s talking about, but he hopes to God it’s true.  Especially because Brooke’s up next, the final act of the evening. (In all honesty, the one that everyone has probably been waiting for.)

The Canadian has gone full Black Swan for this performance, right down to the black feathered pointe shoes and jagged wings that look like they’re protruding out of his skin. As Brooke starts to dance, Nina hears Vanjie swallow.  

Sees him look away, turn his head slightly to the left (it’s like the sun, maybe. You’re not supposed to look at it directly or it will blind you).

Brooke’s beautiful and vicious and fatal on stage, and Nina’s pretty sure Vanjie is holding his breath. His hands are clenched together in his lap, knuckles turning white. Nina still feels the ache of Brooke’s beauty sometimes. It comes and goes, especially when he’s been drinking.  He imagines that it always will.

He reaches out, puts his hand over top of Vanjie’s. Vanjie flinches in surprise. Then he lets out a quiet breath, and Brooke finishes his routine, falling gracefully to his knees.

Perfect. Flawless. Everyone else here is completely fucked.

“Meh,” Nina whispers in Vanjie’s ear, maybe to reassure himself just as much as Vanessa. Maybe.

But it makes Vanjie laugh just the tiniest bit, and it settles Nina’s stomach, and it’s the least he can do for now.

* * *

He’s lost track of how long they’ve been standing on the runway, but he knows his feet are numb, and he doesn’t think Monet has blinked once. He’s just… looking at him.  At all the queens, probably. Clearly. 

Shea, Ivy, Asia, and Miz Cracker are all declared safe and sent back to the Werk Room.  Nina’s heart sinks a little. He wanted to think he was in the top if Vanjie’s glowing comments meant anything, but he isn’t sure he was better than Cracker.  That’s terrifying because if she’s safe that means Nina’s… potentially… not.

But there’s Monet again, smiling at him from the audience. Nina takes a deep breath and prepares himself for the critiques.

“Ladies,” Ru says. “You represent the tops and the bottoms of the week.  Now for the judges’ critiques. We’ll start with Nina Bo’nina Brown.”

Michelle says it fell flat. Ru says it was flat. Ross loves everybody and finds the silver lining (literally - Nina’s wearing a pink gown with silver lining). Either way, they aren’t impressed. Nina West relaxes a little.

They gush over Vanessa, and they should. Ross says it’s some of the best work he’s ever seen from him. Ru agrees. Michelle says she’s just so happy to see a dress and not a bikini and cape. And, oh yeah, she tacks on, the dancing wasn’t bad either. Passionate, fiery. This is the Vanjie they wanted all last season and didn’t quite get. (To Nina’s left, Brooke ducks his head, accepts the blame silently.) 

Laganja’s critique is the opposite of Vanjie’s. The judges are confused to put it lightly… Offended if they’re being honest. And of course Laganja can’t keep her mouth shut.

“I guess I just don’t understand why some people are getting third and fourth and fifth chances while the rest of us are up here working our asses off–”

“Ain’t none of us getting fourth chances, Mary,” Vanjie interjects, and Nina prays he keeps his cool because after a critique like his, the challenge is as good as won.

“I’m just saying that this is your third season in a row, and it might be oversaturation.” Laganja shrugs.

“That’s a big word,” Vanessa retorts. “Where’d you learn that word?”

“Vanj…” Brooke says quietly, which is maybe the worst possible thing that can happen.

“Don’t.” Vanessa’s voice is low, threatening. “I need you to not talk to me right now.”

Brooke physically wilts, collapses in on himself. Nina focuses on the spot on the wall just above Michelle’s head.

“Moving on,” Ru says and diplomatically ends the conversation. “Nina West!”

“So glad to have you back, Nina.” Michelle smiles (she smiles!) “You are still a delight.”

Nina could melt into the stage. Could just become a puddle of vaguely Nina-shaped goo and it would be okay because Michelle is beaming at him, praising him for his newly acquired magic skills, and Ru is nodding along.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in years,” Ru admits. “You really can tell that you’ve taken our critiques from last season and applied them. It absolutely shows.”

Ross also has kind words (when doesn’t he?), but Nina’s lost in the high of hearing Michelle and Ru praise him, lost in the feeling of success.

They move on to Brooke, whose black eyeliner has run just a little.  You could hardly tell from the way he’s holding himself upright, one leg behind the other, perfectly poised. Perfectly Brooke. Perfectly perfect. With the exception of that one streak of eyeliner, a single tear track down his face that he quickly wipes away.

The judges don’t seem to notice, praise instead his going out of his comfort zone, the grittier performance of his Black Swan instead of the grace he was known for on Season 11. Nina guesses they’re right; Brooke seemed to let go on stage, throw himself more into the performance. It was still flawless, every move calculated and textbook, but there was more emotion behind those grey eyes today than Nina thinks he’s ever seen from Brooke on stage.

Brooke thanks them, bows his head demurely, clasps his hands in front of his body.

Then they come to Blair. 

“Oh, Blair.” Michelle shakes her head. “It was just a mess.”

Blair nods. Blair nods through most of it. Nina tries to listen, but still can’t reconcile the fact that apparently the entire room heard something completely different than what he did. 

“I know I let you all down,” Blair says through tears. “And I’m really sorry. I promise I’ll do better.”

Ru smiles, but it’s tense and forced. “Based on the judges’ critiques,” he says, looking up and down the line, “I’ve made some decisions.”

Nina’s heart is in his throat. He can’t breathe, can’t focus, can’t keep himself upright.

“Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, Nina West: you are the top two All Stars of the week.”

Nina’s heart bursts. Actual sparks are shooting from his chest (okay, not actual, but you couldn’t prove it by the warmth that radiates through him). He ventures a look out towards the mentors and sees Trixie and Monet on their feet high-fiving each other. And Monet’s looking at him and smiling, smiling, smiling.

Down the line, Vanessa is laughing. His hands are clasped together in front of his chest and his head is thrown back like he’s praying, but he’s laughing.

“You’ve each won a seven-night stay at the Atlantis Hotel in Nassau Paradise Beach, Bahamas,” Ru says, and Nina almost faints. “Nina Bo’nina Brown, Brooke Lynn Hytes: you are both safe.”

Nina hears Brooke exhale before he lifts his head and smiles up at the judges. 

“That means Laganja Estranja and Blair St. Clair: I’m sorry, but you are in the bottom two.”

Blair cries even harder, and Nina kind of wants to hug her.

“Vanjie and Nina,” Ru continues, and oh shit, Nina might have forgotten this part of winning in All Stars. “Each of you needs to decide which one of the bottom two you will eliminate if you win the lip-sync.”

Nina’s heart is in his throat. He’s got to send one of his sisters home.

“While you deliberate backstage, the judges and I will… perform trust falls.”

It gets a laugh, but when they all file into the backstage lounge, Nina realizes he’s shaking. A couple of the girls grab cocktails (not Vanjie or Brooke) but Nina doesn’t need anything affecting his focus right now.  He feels simultaneously sick and elated. Also a bit worried this might all be the result of a head injury or something.  Maybe he tripped and fell on the very first day, and everything from then on has just been in his mind. It would explain whatever the hell happened with Blair’s performance.

“Congrats Top Two!” Asia raises her glass at Nina. “X-Queens represent.  How you feel girls?”

The producers have been very clear that they’re supposed to talk this whole thing over, but Nina is having trouble finding the words.  Vanjie’s quiet too, and he catches Nina’s eye from across the room, gives him a small smile.

“It’s good, you know. First challenge win, right. It’s gotta feel good.”

Brooke’s watching him, silent, with eyes that are so soft.

“Congratulations Vanjie,” Nina says the thing that Brooke would clearly say if his nerves would let him. “You deserve it.”

“So how are you going to decide?” Nina Bo’nina asks. “Every year they ask that, you gonna follow some rules or -”

“Hell no.” Vanjie cuts her off. “I don’t think that’s somethin’ that works out. You gotta listen to the judges but also - listen to yourself, right? I ain’t gonna just lay it all out now -”

“So I guess that means I’m fucking going home.” Laganja’s voice is shrill and sudden, and she stomps away from the group, heading towards the mirrors.

“No,” Vanessa calls after her. “I ain’t saying that, bitch.  Listen -”

“Well you’ve already made your mind up!” Laganja shouts back. “So fuck me, right?”

Nina wants to make himself as small as possible. He knows that his eyes are probably wide, and his smile is probably crooked.

“No one is saying that, Laganja!” Shea doesn’t turn her head, but says it loud enough to be heard across the room.

“Yeah fucking right!” Laganja screams back, and Nina is - above all, a ‘nice’ person, and he’s not going to keep a conversation going like this, so - 

He takes a deep breath and crosses the room to go talk to her.

They end up sitting in a corner somewhere that a P.A. has set up big velveteen chairs specifically for the purposes of these conversations. Laganja isn’t crying but her eyes are watery, and Nina can’t help but feel sympathy. 

“Listen,” he says, because that is a respectable way to start a conversation. “I think you’re a great performer, I think you deserve to be here.”

Laganja sniffles miserably.

“We don’t have to talk about anything, but I wanted to - if you wanted to - give you a chance -” To what, Nina? “State your case. Or make an argument. Whatever you like.”

Laganja looks up at her.

“Or we can just sit in awkward silence, that’s fine too,” Nina says with a shrug. “I did attend a lot of waspy family dinners in the Midwest.  At this point, I have a PhD in awkward silences.”

Laganja - actually smiles at this.  Then she sighs.

“It’s sweet that you think you’re going to win.”

Oh.

Okay.

After that, the conversation dies a pretty natural death. Nina doesn’t know what else to say. She wishes Laganja luck, and then Laganja straight up refuses to talk to Vanjie.  Fine.  She’s making her choices.

 Blair cries through most of her time with Nina (which is too bad because Nina is trying to figure out the least alarming way of asking her what the hell she sang about).  Nina doesn’t know if Vanjie talks to Blair, but - really, it probably doesn’t matter. Maybe Laganja will be ready for a later season of All Stars (hopefully her edit will be kind) but she’s clearly not there yet. Even though she was kind of the worst, Nina almost feels bad for her. She’s talented, she just needs to get out of her own way.

They film him and Vanjie as they pick out their lipsticks. Nina plays up the conflict, but he can’t imagine it’s a huge choice for either of them. He smiles at Vanjie, squeezes his hand as they prepare to go back on stage with the rest of the queens.

The lights feel brighter than they were before.  Nina hasn’t been this nervous since the last time he stood on stage waiting to lip-sync against Silky.  It doesn’t make any sense when he thinks about it, because the stakes were so much higher that time. He knows he’s safe this time around, knows he’s coming back for another week regardless of how this whole thing with Vanjie plays out. The $10,000 would be nice, but is it worth it to have to send someone home Week One?

Fuck it. He wants the validation. Wants to prove that he is a good lip-syncer. Wants to shove aside all the shame that still burns hot in his belly when he thinks about giving his everything to stay on this stage and having it not be enough.

Production stops him and Vanjie just behind the stage and lets the other girls get into position before they walk onto the runway. Vanessa takes the opportunity to turn to Nina and pull him into a hug.

“However this goes, girl,” he says into Nina’s shoulder, “there ain’t no one else I’d have wanted to share this win with.”

“Same.” Nina breathes a shaky sigh into Vanessa’s hair.

Then production waves them in and they walk down the runway side-by-side. Nina blocks everything else out, tries not to see the other girls (especially Laganja and Blair, who stand to the right of the stage, barely visible in the lighting.) Nina doesn’t risk a glance at the mentors.  He can’t handle seeing Monet and that perfect Goddamn smile right now.

Nina holds his head up high, focuses on Ru, runs the lyrics over and over in his head.

“Welcome back, ladies,” Ru says quietly. His entire demeanor is different now that it’s time to send the first queen home. “Two top All Stars stand before me. Ladies, this is your chance to impress me, win ten thousand dollars, and earn the power to give one of the bottom queens the chop. The time has come for you to lip-sync for your legacy. Good luck, and don’t fuck it up.”

The lights flash (Nina knows they will make this look far more dramatic on TV than it does on the stage, but it doesn’t help settle his stomach any) and the feel-good, pop beat of Lizzo’s “Juice” blares through the speakers.

Nina – goes insular. Doesn’t focus on Vanjie, doesn’t focus on anything other than the words of the song, the rhythm, the moves he’s making. Spin here. Dip there. Prance across the stage and pose. Hip rolls.

He couldn’t tell you what Vanessa’s doing, not until they reach the bridge, when Vanjie grabs his shoulder and points at the back of the stage to Brooke Lynn.

It takes a minute, then Nina realizes what part of the song they’re on.

“Somebody come get this man

I think he got lost in my DMs, what? My DMs, what?

You better come get your man

I think he wanna be way more than friends, what?

More than friends

What you want me to say?”

Nina shrugs, so Vanjie waves him off and they finish the song together, egging each other on through the last chorus until Vanessa ends with a triumphant death drop.

RuPaul, Michelle, and Ross are clapping and laughing, and it’s the exact opposite of the “meh” Nina got the last time he finished a lip-sync. He feels like he could fly. The mentors are on their feet, applauding, and there in the center is Monet, nodding and looking at him with eyes that are far too beautiful and soft.

Nina makes himself look away, looks at Ru, at the judges’ panel.  There’s a brief camera break while production hands back their lipsticks and they secure them deep in their outfits. Vanessa opts for his bra; Nina goes with the sleeve of his leotard.

Once Ru is given the cue, he clears his throat.  He  looks them both over for a moment. And then: 

“Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, you’re a winner, baby. You’ve earned a cash tip of ten thousand dollars. That means Trixie Mattel – you are also a winner, baby.”

“Oh, yay!” Trixie yelps from the mentors’ seats in the audience.

“You’ve won a cash tip of five thousand dollars.”

Vanjie’s doing that clasped-hand-prayer thing again, so Nina immediately walks over and hugs him. (He’s a hugger, even if Vanjie isn’t. Vanjie might be. Nina isn’t sure. Today, it would appear, they all are.) 

It’s okay that he lost, Nina tells himself. There will be more lip-syncs, and he’s safe for another week. So he didn’t win ten thousand dollars, so what? He’s going to the Bahamas! And he doesn’t have to make an enemy yet. Everyone knows how that worked out for Shangela…

“Nina West,” Ru says, glancing at him, “you are safe. You may join the other girls.”

Nina pulls away from Vanjie, squeezes his shoulder reassuringly, and takes his place beside Brooke. 

“Congrats,” Brooke whispers, reaching for his hand. Nina just nods in acknowledgement. His head is still spinning too quickly for him to think clearly.

“Will the bottom two queens please step forward?” Ru asks.

There’s a pause and the room goes deathly quiet as Blair and Laganja walk to the center of the stage, grasping hands. Blair has cried almost all of her makeup off. Nina’s heart aches for her. If she stays, Blair is the next person Nina’s going to hug. He’s drafting a list.

Ru shifts in her chair. “Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, with great power comes great responsibility.  Which queen have you chosen to get the chop?”

Vanjie swallows hard, takes a deep breath, steels himself. “I just wanna say that the person I chose is fierce as fuck.  I was so excited to see her back in the Werk Room because I think she didn’t get a real good shot last time. I wanted to give you another chance, I really did, but you still letting your personal opinions about people and things get in the way and there ain’t room for that on All Stars.” Vanessa reaches into his bra and pulls out his lipstick. “So I’m sorry, but I gotta send you home, Laganja.”

Laganja just nods, tilts her head with a bit of a wry smile. (She did know it was coming, even after everything they did to assuage her fears. But Laganja’s always been a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy.) She turns to Blair, gives her a quick hug, and then Blair practically runs to the back of the stage.

Nina opens his arms immediately, and Blair practically melts into him. He cradles her head, wipes the runny mascara from beneath her eyes. 

“You’re still here. It’s okay.” If he’s got to be the mom of this season, so be it.

“Laganja Estranja,” RuPaul says, “as it is written, so it shall be done. You are and will always be an All Star. Now, sashay away.”

“Thank you so much,” Laganja says. Then she presses her forefinger and thumb together, brings them to her lips, and mimes taking a long drag from a joint. “It’s always four-twenty when ‘Ganja’s in the house, okurrrrrr?”

They clap and bid Laganja farewell (Shea rolls her eyes a bit, but not in a super obvious way).  Nina feels himself relax for the first time all day.

“Con-drag-ulations, All Stars,” RuPaul says to them with a broad smile. “And remember, if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else, can I get an amen up in here?”

“Amen!” the queens chorus in unison.  Nina takes Blair’s hand and leads her back onto the runway as “Kitty Girl” plays over the speakers and the mentors join them on stage.

Trixie and Brooke both head straight for Vanjie, but Trixie wins the race.  She embraces Vanessa, begins a slow, hilarious two-step that doesn’t match the music at all, but makes them all laugh.

Then there’s a tap on Nina’s shoulder and Monet is standing behind him.  It catches Nina by surprise because he smells the same. Like mint toothpaste and sandalwood and hairspray.

Monet doesn’t speak, doesn’t have to. He just hugs Nina.

And Nina swallows down the stupid, pointless ache in his heart, and lets him.