#post branjie show

[artificialqueens]

what doesn't kill me makes me want you more (branjie) - holtzmanns

read on ao3 | tumblr

“I did mean it, you know.” Brooke looks at her with such an intensity in her eyes, such conviction that Vanessa doesn’t even feel her ADD ass getting distracted by anything at all this time.

“Mean what?” Vanessa’s gonna play dumb. Gonna make Brooke say it again, ‘cause she’s never gonna tire of hearing it.

“That I love you.”

AN: In which Holtzmanns hears ‘Cruel Summer’ by Taylor Swift and has to write something because she has no self control whatsoever. Whoops? Poppedthep and Writ are absolute stars and the BEST for editing this and making it better.

“I did mean it, you know.” Brooke looks at her with such an intensity in her eyes, such conviction that Vanessa doesn’t even feel her ADD ass getting distracted by anything at all this time.

“Mean what?” Vanessa’s gonna play dumb. Gonna make Brooke say it again, ‘cause she’s never gonna tire of hearing it.

“That I love you.”

Even though it fucking hurts every time.

“Good. You better.” She deflects, shoves Brooke’s side to make her laugh, ‘cause what else is she supposed to do?

It’s not like Brooke’s words actually mean anything. Not in the way Vanessa wants them to, needs them to.

They’re empty. Empty promises, a bandage wrapped around an amicable breakup that sure as hell ain’t been easy to get over.

Because no matter how much Brooke says them, no matter the way she had to snap her fingers in front of Vanessa’s face earlier to get her to focus, to pay attention so that she could say ‘I love you’,  Vanessa knows they don’t matter.

‘Cause Vanessa knows that Brooke doesn’t love her enough.

Brooke still goes after every hoe, every hot piece of trade that she wants to take back to her hotel room, going home with them. She knows she’s the shit. She doesn’t care that Vanessa sees, ‘cause why would it matter to her now?

They’re not together.

Brooke doesn’t love her like that. Enough to stop herself from sleeping around, enough to commit.

Vanessa’s fine with it, she is. Mostly ‘cause she has to be. How else is she gonna survive touring with her ex?

It beats the fighting, the nasty words. The cruel barbs she regrets the second they leave her mouth when she sees the way that Brooke’s eyes falter. Brooke can get away with causing Vanessa pain, fucking around, not giving a shit. But Vanessa’s unable to come for Brooke in any way that would leave a permanent mark on her pale skin.

It’s not Brooke’s fault. She doesn’t say anything. It’s Vanessa’s own inner voice, tutting in her head, Chile…don’t do that. Don’t stay stooping low.

Now that she thinks about it, her inner voice sounds a lot like A’keria.

They share an Uber back to the Gladstone Hotel with Jason and Steve ‘cause it’s cost efficient, not that either of them have to worry about money anymore. They’re still in drag and Vanessa’s feet are killing her, pinching in her heeled boots but at least she looks fucking good in them. Brooke still towers over her and Vanessa has to speed up her pace to keep up as they walk through the lobby.

Jason and Steve get off at their respective floors. They leave Vanessa in the elevator with Brooke, ‘cause she’s on the seventh floor and Brooke’s pressed the 6 button for herself. Vanessa doesn’t have to look up to know that Brooke’s eyes are on her, trailing up her dress and lingering on the highlight on her shoulders and the hand that she runs through her hair. Her gaze feels like it lights a flame across her body, burning and burning. It never burns bright enough to bring Vanessa down for good, make her fully fall apart. She always manages to survive it, albeit a little worse for wear.

The elevator dings when it reaches the sixth floor, and Brooke takes a step as the doors open. She doesn’t leave fully, though, one foot still in the elevator. She turns around, gives Vanessa those eyes. The ones that Vanessa can never fucking say no to ‘cause something about Brooke makes her weak.

“You coming?”

Vanessa rolls her eyes, huffs, as if she’s not clamoring to follow her. “Fine, bitch. You better have extra makeup wipes.”

Vanessa sits cross legged on Brooke’s bathroom counter in her underwear, stripping her face of the makeup and glitter that acts like an extra set of armour, though one not thick enough to protect her from what she so desperately needs it to. She’s still here, de-dragging with Brooke whom she’s as hung up over they way she is over Brock.

Rinsing off his face and washing off the remnants of the Branjie gig isn’t cleansing enough for Jose to bring him a sense of peace or closure. How can it, when Brock is shaking out the mess of curls on top of his head and looking at Jose like he’s a piece of meat or something?

Jose really ought to become a vegetarian. It would save him from being hung up over someone that don’t want him back. At least, not like that.

Brock puts his hands on either side of the counter where Jose is sitting, effectively boxing him in while he’s facing the mirror. It fills Jose’s nose with a mix of Brock’s shampoo from the morning, aftershave, and a spritz or two of perfume that he sprays on when he’s Brooke. A concoction that never fails to twist Jose’s heart in excitement and longing alike.

How is it possible to long for someone who’s standing right in front of you? Jose doesn’t know. What he does know is that it’s not good for him, aging him too fast and soon he’s gonna look older than his mother, though it ain’t that much of a challenge ‘cause no one believes she’s his mom, anyway. Brock feels like sand that’s slipping through his fingers, an emptying hourglass that’ll never fill itself up again. Brock and him are gonna separate as they always do and Jose’s gonna be left empty and turned upside down on his head with nothing to fill his heart back up.

He’s tried. Tried to fit other guys into the hole that Brock’s left in his chest, but they never fit, never feel right. Brock’s ruined all other trade for him, which in Jose’s rulebook should be considered a capital offense. It doesn’t matter how much they look like Ryan Gosling or how sweet they treat him, taking care of him the way he deserves but doesn’t want from people who ain’t Brock.

Brock buries his face into Jose’s neck, and Jose can feel the scrunch of his eyes shut against his skin. Brock does this sometimes, holding him extra tight or closer than usual and Jose doesn’t want to complain, ‘cause really, he wishes he’d be important enough to Brock for him to never let go.

Jose lets Brock grab his shoulders, turn him around so his back is to the mirror and his legs dangle off the counter. He melts into the kiss that Brock presses to his lips ‘cause Brock always makes him feel so warm from the inside out. He lets Brock push him onto the bed, eagerly pulls Brock closer. If he’s only gonna get Brock occasionally, when they’re in the same cities and maybe a little bit tipsy and their inhibitions and common senses are down for the count, he may as well enjoy it, right?

It’s gonna hurt later. When he has to leave Brock’s hotel suite in the morning for his own and go back to pretending that he’s fine, that their arrangement is fine and that he’s not a second away from breaking down over it again, like he always tends to do when he’s had one too many tequila shots and listened to too many sad songs and the only word that his brain can think is Brock Brock Brock.

But that ain’t now. Right now Jose has Brock on top of him, pressing kisses everywhere like he’s the most precious thing in the world, and it’s all that matters. It doesn’t matter that Brock won’t keep believing it after they both come.

It’s not ‘til it’s four a.m. and neither of them are sleeping that Jose says something. He’s resting his head on top of Brock’s chest, and can feel Brock trace patterns along his shoulder blades, the base of his spine, the curve of his ribs.

“We could go back to this. All the time. It wouldn’t be hard to do.”

Brock’s fingers stop moving. Jose can feel the way that Brock stiffens underneath him, the way that his heartbeat quickens.

“We can’t.”

It’s a conversation that they’ve had before. Too many times before.

“We could. Me and you. Not for the fans or for anyone else or nothing. Just us. I know you miss it, Toes.” As if the nickname is going to make Brock bend. It nearly does, ‘cause Jose catches Brock’s fingers twitching.

“You know what will happen if we do.” Brock’s voice is tired and worn and Jose almost hates that he’s the one who’s caused it. Almost. ‘Cause Brock’s gone and fucked him up, too.

The two of them cancel each other out. Yin and yang, molten and ice.

“What? What’s gonna happen?” Jose makes Brock say it every time. He’s not gonna stop asking, as if Brock’s logic will suddenly not be as airtight anymore.

Jose wants them to work so badly. He wants it, his heart wants it, hell, his entire body wants it and never wants to let Brock go whenever they’re like this, all intertwined as if they’re just two regular people that are together.

And yet, they always have to drift apart. Brock takes a piece of him each time he goes, and Jose knows he does ‘cause what else could explain the hole in his chest that seems to grow every time that he walks away?

“We’re always flying to different places, we’re never in the same time zones anymore. Our schedules are ridiculous right now. Adding that extra pressure would make things worse, you know that.” Brock’s voice is quiet, and Jose almost doesn’t hear it over the hum of the ceiling fan, the sounds of driving cars outside of the hotel window.

“We’d make it work, if we wanted.” Jose wants to. He really, really, wants to. More than anything he’s wanted his whole life.

“We already tried.” Brock sounds defeated. “You know what happened with that.”

Jose getting jealous of every hoe that Brock talked to, hugged, interacted with. Brock pulling away from him, as far as he could to give himself some space, as if being around literally anyone else was a better option.

Jose had felt like he was chasing a ghost, whispers of Brock because he was never truly there, not in the way that Jose needed. Jose gets it. He’s a lot, he’s a handful. But he wants the best, goes after the best, because he deserves it.

Brock’s the best, in his eyes. So soft and sweet and shady and Jose fits in the crook of his arm like he belongs there, even though he knows that he can’t stay there forever.

Jose wishes he could, though. That getting back together wouldn’t immediately mean destruction for the both of them.

“Doesn’t mean you should go, though.” Brock wraps an arm around his waist, pulls him closer. Jose wants to lift his face up and scream at him for being so flippy floppy but he also wants to scream at himself, ‘cause of course he’s not going to leave, not when his heart never wants to leave Brock in the first place.

“Stay.” Brock’s voice is all soft in his ear and Jose’s resolve is already on the ground when Brock’s hands start to trail up his sides.

He’s too weak for it.

“Can’t go. I know you’d cry yourself to sleep if I did.” Jose grins up at Brock, trying not to think about the fact that Brock probably wouldn’t even care. Would he?

Jose hates it. As sweet as he’s being right now, he knows Brock’s gonna be ignoring him by next week. Not responding to his calls, his texts, unless he wants something ‘cause they always play by Brock’s rules and it’s giving Jose whiplash.

Brock’s all warm right now, and being in his arms is making Jose feel like he never frosted over in the first place. As if this were a year ago, and they were newly together and everything was fresh and exciting and new and not marred by scars that both of them carved with dull knives into their intertwined hearts. If he closes his eyes, they could be back there. All new and tentative and exciting.

But they’re not. They’ll never go back to that. Brock’s made it clear.

It’s fine. Jose’s fine with it.

He is.

Jose still has a piece of Brock, anyway, even though nights like these cause burns upon his skin in the aftermath. Like he’s never gonna heal from the effect that Brock has on him. Like it doesn’t even matter, ‘cause he doesn’t want to.

Brock’s always gonna tug on his belt loops, pull him into an empty rooms, hallways, each others’ hotel rooms. ‘Cause this is what they do now.

It’s better.

Jose has to accept it, go with it, even though it burns.

[andthatisnotfake]

Chapters: 12/? Fandom: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo Characters: Brooke Lynn Hytes, Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, Silky Nutmeg Ganache Additional Tags: Vanjie x Silky friendship, Amnesia, but make it fun, a bit of angst, A Bit of Fluff, a bit of smut, a bit of everything really, a lot of confused Vanessa, out of drag names used, Amnesia AU Summary:

José wakes up in a hospital after an accident and he seems to have forgotten a few important things about his life...

Amnesia, but make it fun

[fortheloveofskz]

💕

[hi-yekaterina]

Top 5 m/m Branjie fics / Top 5 f/f Branjie fics / Top 5 RPDR non-Branjie fics

WOMAN, WHY WOULD YOU ASK ME THAT?????? JESUS

I'm nervous, my heart is shaking, but let's go!

TOP 5 M/M BRANJIE FICS

For they know not what they do, by @blackhighheels. I am OBSESSED with this verse and how useless they are. I love how their relationship is written and how much love they have for each other. It's painful to witness two people being so DUMB but it's absolutely worth it in the end. and by addition Couples Therapy since it's the second part and we cam see a more vulnerable side of our babies.

Hot as Hell and no AC also written by @blackhighheels (bitch get out of here). I love absolutely everything about this fic. The way she wrote Brock's life, her family and the struggle that is being a LGBTQ+ person in a conservative family it's amazing. The way they fight to make the relationship work and how Brock finally finds peace being himself? that's some inspiring shit right there

I Bet by @poppedthep I don't have WORDS TO DESCRIBE THIS MASTERPIECE. it's literally our clown bible. Vanessa being her successful self and Brooke being too slow to realized how much he missed Vanjie? MASTERPIECE!!!

Notebooks and Post-it's by @thankyoumissvanjie. this broke me so many times I don't even think I can properly describe this fic. it's extremely well written and the way you can feel the hurt the characters are going through? no words.

and, of course the whole The Brightest Timeline by @theartificialdane. THAT'S THE REALITY I WANNA LIVE IN!

TOP 5 F/F BRANJIE FICS

Lady in Red, by my wife @blhates. This is literally my comfort fic, my go-to one when I'm feeling down. It's extremely well written and I'm just always amazed by barista Vanessa and her unique personality. the way their relationship started, the story that named the bar, how it fits them perfectly.... your mind, wifey. your mind amazes me every single time.

Not Nineteen Forever, by @artificialortega. This was the first fic I ever read and it has such a special place in my heart. Ortega is beyond talented and this fic shows that. They ways she wrote their relationship, the ups and downs (more downs than ups let's say that 😂), the dynamic of their friendship group, all of it.

Nobody Knows Where We Might End Up by @plastiquetiaras. I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH WORDS TO TALK ABOUT THIS FIC, HONESTLY. VANESSA IS A CARDIO SURGEON, THE HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT!!!!! I cant with how she wrote the tension between them, how everyone in that fucking hospital knew something was up, EVERYTHING!!

For Your Safety by @youre-a-kite. incredible, that's what this fic is. The way Brooke goes out of her way to take care of Vanessa, to show that she's not alone and that she cares more than she can vocally say. I love how in love they are with each other, the way they finally opened to let someone see inside of them, how trey finally allowed themselves to be loved.

If You Ever Wanna Be In Love by @buffywhovianpotterlock. I was literally reading it yesterday and I just cant with how cute this is. I love how pure and genuine their relationship is. how it started only as a friendship and then they're spending time together and they can't stop thinking about each other, and how they just match. how they understand each other's emotions and how beautiful it is to read and witness their love blossoming.

I dont actually read non branjie fics 😅 so that's why imma do 5 branjie fics recently posted (or not so recently cause I'm so behind on ao3)/in progress that I think y'all should read (this is my blog and I make the rules)

Eleven, by @blhates. you can read it here

Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor, by @artificialortega . you can read it here

Level Up and It's Nice to Have a Friend by @plastiquetiaras you can read it here, and here

Teacher's Brat by @blackhighheels and @thackeryisatop. you can read it here.

In the Arms of the Ocean by @buffywhovianpotterlock. you can read it here

[zwritestuff]

hot take: in every season of drag race, the latines are the queens who ALWAYS are insulted by the production. in season 3, when yara was wearing that beautiful dress that represents her culture, rupaul basically makes fun of it. we have seen alexis in a regular season + all star 1 & 5 being portrayed as someone loud and crazy (also, i really hate when juju said "second language my ass", but nobody calls her bc she is a fan favorite). as much that the fandom LOVES talking about +

+ the favouritism of vanessa, we can see her being despise for the production and the fandom, (when she was actually one of the strongest contenders in season 11), just because "she is loud and annoying". the only queen latine that didn't receive all of this is probably crystal, but not a lot of fans perceives her as a mexican. i don't know if one day we could watch a latine winning in USA drag race... but i hope that in drag race holland abby or envy gets the crown, we need more representation.

GO THE FUCK OFF QUEEN. this show and fandom in general treats QOC in such a disgusting way. we CAN’T have latines without them getting the “oh i can’t speak english and i have an accent that absolutel errases all of the good qualities i have bc all everyone talks about is my broken english” OR “i’m loud and messy and i have a very volatile personality so you better don’t come for me” edit. it’s exhausting, and we’re SO MUCH MORE than that. when that instance with jujubee happened it rubbed me the wrong way SO MUCH. i’ve been learning english since i was 4 and guess what? I STILL SPEAK BADLY SOMETIMES, I PROBABLY HAVE MADE LOTS OF MISTAKES IN THIS POST ALONE. jujubee, being a bilingual person (bc she also speaks laos as seen in s2) should be MORE than aware of this.

and when it comes to vanessa, GUESS THE FUCK WHAT? SHE ONLY EXISTS FOR BRANJIE, SHE CAN’T DO ANYTHING WITHOUT AT LEAST SOMEONE POINTING OUT IT WAS FOR BROOKE OR KAMERON. I’M FUCKING OVER IT. i know people is entitled to shipping whatever they want, but when you reduce a qoc to just a ship and not her own person with her own life independetly of branjie/kamjie it gives me serious red flag. and crystal, i was SO BEYOND THE MOON when i found out a season favorite was latine, but THEN bc crystal didn’t adhere to either of the nasty stereotypes the world in general has about us, people doubted her identity, WHEN SHE HERSELF SAID IT A LOT OF TIMES. SHE’S MEXICAN. SHE’S LATINE. SHE’S OURS. 

i am ROOTING for drag race holland to let us have a latine winner, moreover, A SOUTH AMERICAN LATINE winner, bc we’re so overlooked. everyone always focuses on center america and the caribbean, we south americans have no representation point blank period. and the fact abby and envy are the ONLY poc casted in drh only makes me want this even BADLIER than i already want qoc to win in drus seasons. 

[tumble4rpdr]

I'm not the og anon but I'm guessing they're not expecting fan edits or anything like that for Brooke and Andres lol. I think they just mean that it's weird people aren't happy for Brooke's happiness when it's about anyone who is not Vanjie, which I've also noticed. We don't know Andres irl so why do people dislike him, you know? Whether they're only close friends or they decided to rekindle their relationship, I've seen several fans be disappointed and annoyed every time Brooke posts about him. I get that they want branjie back together but sometimes the dislike of Andres is a bit much even if it's "a joke" (for example I saw on twitter an account called something like "Andres hate account". There's also that time when Brooke tweeted about a private fan groupchat talking about/making fun of her and Andres. Good for those 2 to see the humor in it, but it is still weird for fans to be so invested in a guy they don't like and don't know...)

You’re definitely right anon and while I’ll admit that it’s still taking me a little while to adjust to the idea that B potentially moved on (which is my issue, and definitely not B’s), we really have no right to judge Andres (or anyone else), especially when we know so little about him (and I’ve had a previous anon tell me that they’ve been to a few of his parties and he seemed like a pretty nice, fun guy). While my fanfiction brain will likely always crave the romance of B and V and how they met, in the real world they both seem like they’re in a good place (as individuals and as friends) and B definitely seems happy, which as fans and supporters is what we should ultimately care the most about. You’re right about the original anon not requesting fan edits to show enthusiasm (lol) but I was just using that as my example (going off what the second anon said) of how people show their interest in B and V. And while I can very much understand people longing for B and V to get back together and writing about it and loving their relationship (friendship or otherwise) and maybe not being fully ready to celebrate the possibility of B being with someone else, there is no excuse for bullying of any kind for any reason. I’ve never seen the Twitter account that you mentioned but to me that’s completely uncalled for and that thing with the group chat was slightly uncomfortable (though like you said it’s good B and Andres could laugh about it) and got a little too intimate with their private lives (which I know I could likely be accused of too but to me it was the fact that it was so readily and maybe purposely brought to their attention). Ultimately nothing should be said or done with the intention to hurt B or Andres and B’s happiness should be our first priority. I trust B and I believe that he has good friends and spends time with good people so if B and Andres are friends or even back together, we need to do our best to at least try to support it and enjoy B’s joy and at the very least try as best we can to not be hurtful or judgmental to anyone, Andres, B, or anyone else

[barbiehytes]

top 5 branjie moments??

AHHHHHHHHH

Ok in no particular order:

- Episode 4 Untucked, orange alert babies being soft + the 'i thought it was sweet baby' untucked where Brooke is looking at V with heart eyes.

- DXP lesbians holding hands and all their cute moments on stage

- The branjie show : the matching outfits the shot the smiles the damn afterparty, ahhhh

- THE REENACMENT KISS what the fuck was that??

- hmmm idk if Cinco de Mayo + Easter, or the when he has a cat obsession?? Lol i always loved that. Omg i also love the roscoes watch party where Brooke is SOOOO drunk and says the 'and I've been inside of her' lmao good times 🤡

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A post shared by @lgbthytes on Apr 19, 2019 at 7:18am PDT

[missjanjie]

author interview tag

hi hello thank u @dollalpaca for tagging me~

Name: joley

Fandom(s): rpdr, but i occasionally fall back into kurtbastian habits (not glee, just kurtbastian lmao)

Where you post: ao3/tumblr 

Most popular oneshot: overall, it’s strip away my conscience (kurtbastian) but for rpdr it’s someone like you (branjie)

Most popular multichapter fic: overall, it’s the show must go on (kurtbastian) but for rpdr it’s hold me closer, tiny dancer (branjie)

Favorite story you’ve written so far: it’s hard to say but probably signed, sealed, delivered

Fic you were nervous to post: happiness isn’t here, bcs it’s v self indulgent and i wasnt sure how well itd work

How you choose your titles: song lyrics/titles lol

Do you outline?: i do general ones bcs otherwise i will forget everything

Complete: as far as rpdr multichaps? four

In progress: two

Coming soon/not yet started: who is to say?

Do you accept prompts?: yeah thats kind of my thing ig

Upcoming work that you’re most excited about: eventually i wanna do my 30 day songfics so thatd be fun

hm ok i tag: @imalwaysaslutfordrag @veronicasanders @littlesunflowerthatcould and whoever else wants to do this ♥

[drageverywhere]

It looks like we are getting sexpert vanjie as wow Instagram is asking for sex questions and vanjie has liked the post

So who’s going to send the toes sucking question? 😂 jk

I want SexEd with BRANJIE is that asking too much? B isnt shy when it comes to sex, V is hilarious and well the sexual tension between them 🥵 that show would be epic

[sohytes]

I think people be upset about the q&a because there's a heavy double standard. V can say whatever and gets no hate, B only speaks positively and still gets hate for branjie. I see it on reddit a lot (for example), there's a perception that B is the one constantly pushing branjie, and V is an innocent bystander when its more the reverse. I think they can say what they want because its their relationship but it does annoy me that B messes with branjie the least but gets all the backlash.

A timeline of the perception of Brooke & Vanjie in Branjie related situations:

On the show

V: Miss Vanjie goes viral again with a romance on the show

B: wants a personality and chooses being Vanjie's bitch

Post Reunion

V: baby, pure honey, the heartbroken

B: evil whore, ice queen, heartbreaker

Post Branjie Funeral

V: the hung up on her ex

B: moved on queen, always fucking around

Post Brooke's Podcast & Vanjie's OWS

V: Brooke's dick is circumcised

B: im a

Nun

[phrynewrites]

hello its me again (think this is the third ask in your box from me atm,,,,,,, oops.) anyways,,,, 3, 17 and 20 from the meta asks? 💖💖💖

Hi Nessie! Thank you for the ask!!

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Oh okay so I was so excited to write chapter 10 of dops. That, of course, will not be happening anymore, as explained in this post. But it was the A’keria’s wedding chapter with a big branjie moment and a big scyvie moment that I’m currently trying to finesse into new dops (which I’m currently calling The Audit but that’s subject to change). 

Long story short, now i’m back at square one of being able to write the “branjie has a serious talk and Brooke’s backstory is revealed but only to Vanjie because that’s who she trusts most out of the group, especially when she’s vulnerable and drunk” and “Yvie seeks the counsel of people in the department who are much better at love who tell her to stop pursuing Scarlet in this stupid vague way she’s been going about it and just find someone who can make her happy and decides that it’s Scarlet or nothing because she’s stubborn and Scarlet can’t find her wife and wants to slow dance” scenes. 

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

I think the way I want my writing to be perceived is as highly versatile. I want to be known as a writer who can make you laugh in one paragraph and go and tear you apart in another; who writes multiple ships well; who’s got a lot of different pieces being worked on at the same time. Mainly, that’s how I see myself here and in my writing outside of fanfic — outside of this my pieces range from satirical horoscopes to lyric, fragmented essays about addiction and the ache of love. 

However, I think i’ve got two communities here: the people who know me for dops and dops adjacent content and the people who know me for my Scyvie writings. And I mainly write for commentary and interaction. I like writing to feel like I have a community. 

And also, if I’m being fully honest, it’s why I even began writing Branjie in the first place. It’s got a bigger community than Scyvie, which is really what I enjoy writing a lot more. I find that writing Branjie is a better way to market myself as a writer (due to the larger consumer base for the writing) and a better way to build a community. So I suppose that’s the full truth to my motivations (and also why I have no solely Branjie fics planned).

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Ooh I was hoping to get this question. 

So in Daybreak over Manhattan, the whole thing I was focused on was developing the Scarlet and Yvie’s relationship slowly, with the constant of location (the Starbucks) held pretty firm. I wanted to do this mostly to isolate the characters from happenstance derived from the setting, to have their relationship develop just from the choices they made, and to give a more focused view into their development. Like in TV terms, I wanted a single camera, single stage show. So that’s why we never see them outside of Scarlet’s workplace in the fic. 

I also liked the focus on routine throughout the piece: the change in routine from Brooke to Scarlet at the beginning; the change from triple tall latte and muffin to just the triple tall latte; how Yvie feels off when the store is crowded for once and won’t get her time to talk to Scarlet in the morning, realizing that talking with Scarlet has been integrated into her routine. I kind of took that from that improv magic show episode and Yvie’s snatch game, which to me showed she clearly liked to make a plan and stick to it and found it difficult to deviate. So I wanted to highlight that element of her character. I also wanted to use routine to highlight just how much she’d integrated Scarlet into her life, to the point in which she consistently finds herself going to Scarlet when she has her problems, to the point in which by the end, when she’s stood up at that date and sees that Scarlet’s the one closing that night, she’s gotta contend with the fact that Scarlet has been integrated into her day, her thoughts, her triumphs and failures, to the point in which Yvie has to admit she wouldn’t want Scarlet to not be a part of her life. I deliberately tried to build up Scarlet’s presence in Yvie’s life little by little until she was entirely fused in and Yvie couldn’t deny how grateful she is to have Scarlet with her.

[artificialqueens]

Modern Love, 1/12 (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

fic summary: Brooke Lynn is a 23 year old graduate writing boring, uninspired pieces for the fashion department of a newspaper and living in a city all her friends have moved away from. Silky is living at her parents’ house and spends her days applying for jobs she’s promptly rejected for. Nina and Monet are struggling through their first year as teachers whilst being sickeningly adorable girlfriends. Akeria is pursuing her dream of being a badass lawyer, even if her master’s degree is slowly crushing her soul. Plastique is acting like the second coming of Paris Hilton, so nothing there has changed. Scarlet is overworked and Yvie is underpaid and their relationship isn’t all it appears from the outside.

And Vanessa? Vanessa is nowhere to be seen.

(A story about a holiday, a breakup, friendships and relationships in a post-graduate world, careers, navigating life after university, figuring out what it means to be an adult, and coming to terms with the fact that we really are not nineteen forever.)

a/n: welcome to the sequel to Not Nineteen Forever!!! i should say it’s not *~ mandatory ~* to have read the original before this but it’s encouraged huehue xo hope u enjoy and please feel free to reblog, like and send love!!

***

Brooke felt the all-encompassing sense of dread wash over her as her alarm went off, the sounds of the radio that were gradually fading in doing nothing to make the experience of waking up for another day of work any more palatable. She groaned loudly as she stretched, her arms flying out to the side and hitting the edge of the double bed. Brooke starfished a little, stretching her legs out as long as they would go and trying to put off getting up and showered for as long as she could.

Rolling over in bed she reached for her phone and stopped when she saw the rose-gold rectangular frame beside her on the bedside table. It caught her by surprise every day, almost a sort of routine in itself. A picture of her and Vanessa from when they first moved in, standing at the doorway having just popped a bottle of champagne. Brooke’s face was in a funny contorted sort of smile as she yanked the cork out of the bottle and Vanessa was clapping her hands in excitement, a brilliant white moonbeam painted across her face. Brooke remembered the day well. Monet had taken the photo with Nina beside her, both of them still in their work clothes after they’d visited straight from a hard day full of teaching. Akeria, Silky, Plastique, Scarlet and Yvie had all been inside, shuffling through the huge variety of Domino’s pizza boxes that had just arrived at their door like a deck of cards. That night had been so special. Whatever had happened since then, Brooke would probably treasure that memory forever.

In spite of herself she smiled as she looked at the photograph, then turned her attention to her phone screen.

No notifications. She didn’t know why she expected anything more.

With a cloud over her head that matched the ones in the uncharacteristically grey June sky, Brooke brushed her teeth and peeled her pyjamas off before stepping into the shower and adjusting the dial to somewhere between tepid and warm. Vanessa’s shower gel sat in the corner, the tropical fruit and mint one with little tiny sloths all over the front. Brooke found herself hurting as she looked at it, still loath to use it as she took her own from the opposite side and splatted a huge dollop into her shower puff. Sometimes she used it indulgently, like a secret she shared with herself. She didn’t know whether she’d buy more when it ran out. That was something she still needed to think about.

Once she was clean Brooke briskly dried herself with a towel, sitting on the edge of the bed wrapped in it as she carefully blow-dried out her hair. She picked out her outfit: smart black work trousers with a fabric belt that pulled her in at the waist, a black and white patterned shirt, black stiletto heels. As she painted some minimal makeup on her face in the hope it would make her look less like a sleep-deprived zombie and more like she had her life together in some way, Brooke checked the clock and cursed as she realised she was running behind.

Leaving lipstick for the moment, she grabbed her bag, shoved her feet in a pair of black pumps, and left hurriedly for the train. Breakfast wasn’t a priority; she knew she could grab an iced coffee and a croissant from the cafe in the station in between changing trains, as it took her two to get into work. It was times such as these that she wished she knew how to drive like Monet, Plastique and Akeria, or had learned since uni like Nina or Scarlet. But then again, cafe food for breakfast was one of the very few perks of public transport.

Brooke eventually arrived at the huge concrete block with windows that held her offices, taking the elevator up to the fifth floor, clocking in, shooting a lacklustre “hi” to the girls she sometimes chatted to and settling herself in at her desk. As office positions went, Brooke supposed it wasn’t awful- it was beside the window looking out onto the streets of the city below and it provided some much-needed light to her day. Logging on to her work laptop, she checked her emails (one from her boss about the article due for Friday, and one from Cheryl about money for flowers for somebody going on maternity leave that she’d never met or heard of and might not even have worked there).

Her working day had started.

University hadn’t prepared Brooke for graduate life. It hadn’t prepared her for the fact that friends moved away for jobs and houses and flats, internships and apprenticeships and postgrads and masters. It hadn’t prepared her for the fact that her group chat, once flooded with about a hundred messages if she so much as left it for five minutes, gathered dust as everyone’s lives took over. It hadn’t prepared Brooke for the feeling of missing out on something…Christ knows what. Perhaps living, making memories instead of simply swiping through ones already made on a Saturday night spent alone in bed with a bottle of wine to herself. It hadn’t prepared her for the yearning, the regret at having taken those days for granted when they were the happiest of her life and she hadn’t even realised it. If Brooke had known how soul-crushingly boring her life would be once she got that rolled-up piece of paper in a little tube she would’ve been dragging the girls out every single night. The all-encompassing sadness and longing for something better hit her harder on days like these, sepia ones with big clouds that hung ominously in the sky but never gave her the satisfaction of raining. She supposed that feeling had only been exacerbated by…

She didn’t need to remind herself of that.

It was ten o’clock in the morning and Brooke was staring out of the small office window stupefied with boredom when her phone vibrated. She jumped, pouncing on it as she always did whenever a notification went off. Her phone hadn’t been on silent for a full month. It hadn’t been the person she’d wanted or expected, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

Silk: HEY GIRL LONG TIME NO SPEAK! I’M GONNA BE IN TOWN THIS AFTERNOON FOR AN INTERVIEW BUT I’LL BE FREE AFTER AND I’VE GOT A COUPLE HOURS TO KICK ABOUT UNTIL MY TRAIN. YOU WANNA GRAB DINNER? XXXXXXXXX

Brooke frantically made plans as if she was under a time limit, as if the moment would slip through her fingers like sand in an hourglass. She suggested some restaurants that she knew wouldn’t eat into either of their fragile graduate salaries and they settled on an Italian in the city centre, where the portions were big and the meals were tasty.

Brooke spent the rest of the day looking forward to meeting her friend. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Silky. Maybe it had been as long ago as New Year. Brooke smiled as she remembered the occasion; all of them cramming into Scarlet and Yvie’s flat to see in the year. Silky and Akeria had got too drunk off prosecco and screamed along to JLS, Scarlet and Yvie had both made a buffet to rival a hotel’s, and Nina, Monet, Vanessa and Brooke had all been tangled up in an almost relationship-ruining game of Articulate. Plastique had brought her new girlfriend Naomi to introduce to everyone and the girl had looked ever so slightly alarmed by the sheer chaos of everyone put together, but she’d laughed and joined in all the same.

That had been another happy memory. Those seemed to be hard to come by these days.

Work dragged. It always did. Brooke managed to write three sub-par articles that she sent to her editor at the end of the day anyway because hell, it was their job to turn carbon into diamonds. So when she hopped on the train back into the city, Brooke felt a little buzz in her veins that she hadn’t felt in a while.

It took her until she saw Silky standing outside the restaurant- hair in a bun full of flyaways, eyebrows still Sharpied on, in a pair of smart trousers and a floaty top- that Brooke realised that part of the reason she was so excited was because she’d been so lonely for such a long time. Well, only really a month, but it felt like a year. It had taken her living on her own to realise just how boring her life was without all her friends so constantly part of it, and now they all had their own lives and schedules it only served to show Brooke how empty her own was without…

Well. Without her.

As soon as Silky looked up from her phone and spotted Brooke her face lit up, and she fixed her with a smile and a screech that Brooke never thought she would have missed hearing but by God, she had.

“BROOKE LYNN!” she screamed, followed by lots of squealing and babbling as she wrapped the taller girl in a tight hug and refused to let go for at least twenty seconds. Brooke didn’t mind and she found herself clinging back, Silky suddenly the loudest anchor she’d never known she needed. When Silky finally pulled away she grabbed Brooke by both wrists, shaking her back and forth a little. “Oh my God, BITCH! Oh my God. FUCK! It’s so good to see you. How the fuck are you?”

Brooke appreciated that- Silky asking how she was. Yvie tiptoed around Brooke’s feelings when they texted and Brooke tiptoed around her and Scarlet’s perfect domestic bliss, both of the subjects too touchy for Brooke and the pair of them instead choosing to communicate via meme. Nina barely had time to breathe these days let alone text back, and Plastique…well, Plastique wouldn’t get it.

None of them would, she supposed.

“I’m…I’m surviving! I’m being an adult, I guess, and this is what life is now. How’re you?” Brooke swiftly moved the conversation on, and Silky took the hint and dropped both her wrists, pushing open the door.

“I’m on cloud fuckin’ nine girl. C’mon, let’s get some vino an’ I’ll catch you up on the world of Ms. Ganache! Think of it as a free episode of the reality TV show that is my life.”

“Let’s be real, Silk. If anyone’s life’s like a reality TV show right now, it’s mine,” Brooke raised her eyebrows, not quite committing to her own attempt at being lighthearted and instead couldn’t have sounded more bitter if she’d eaten an entire lemon with its rind on.

Silky, for her part, shrugged and let out a small sigh. “You ain’t wrong, girl, you ain’t wrong. But the offer of wine still stands, so let’s get sat. Where the damn hell is a waiter?”

They eventually got shown to their table and the conversation flowed frantically and excitedly, mirroring the wine. Silky filled Brooke in on every last detail of her life- most importantly, Brooke thought, was that Silky’s parents who she was back living with had adopted a cocker spaniel puppy called Pooch. Graduate life had been tough on Silky; she still hadn’t managed to get a job and so therefore couldn’t afford to rent a flat, so she’d moved back to her sleepy and uninspiring hometown. Living with her parents, she’d groaned, was beginning to chip away at her; the constant pressure they put on Silky to find a job, move out, get a boyfriend, and lose weight was beginning to grow wearing in the extreme, and Brooke didn’t blame her for being fed up.

“You know you’re always welcome to come chill at mine, you know. If it’s getting particularly rough,” Brooke suggested not-quite-casually, glad of the fact that loneliness didn’t have a scent because if it did she’d be reeking of it.

Silky gave a bashful smile, looking down at her half-eaten plate of spaghetti bolognaise in front of her. “You’re a doll, B, but you know I can’t do an hour on the train any time my Mama tuts at me buying a size XL of anything. In fact therapy’s probably cheaper than a train ticket here but realistically I don’t got the money for either, so…thanks, but in the words of Simon Cowell, issa no from me.”

“That’s okay. I get it, Mums are simultaneously the worst and the best people,” Brooke pulled a face. Thinking about her Mum made her wonder when the last time she texted her was. She felt a little ashamed for not knowing off the top of her head. “But hey, at least you got that interview, right? How did it go?”

“Alright,” Silky muttered in a non-committal way. It was the most un-Silky response Brooke thought she’d ever seen her friend give. It was weird and unpleasant; the Silky from uni would’ve yelled the place down about how she’d aced it, how they’d make her the chief editor right there and then, how she could write an article for them entirely in Wingdings and it’d still be the best thing they’d read all day.

Seemingly picking up on Brooke’s discomfort, Silky gave a small laugh. “I don’ know, boo…I used to be so sure of myself, I used to be so set in the fact that writing was somethin’ I was good at. When I was a kid I used to write these fuckin’ huge stories…pages an’ pages long that my teachers would pull big overexaggerated smiley faces at an’ squeal over an’ put big glittery star stickers on. I thought I was somethin’ special. An’ then uni, y’know…I was a small fish in a big pond- hell, a big fish in a big pond- but I still thought I was the shit even when I got bad grades. I thought my markers just didn’t get it, that they were the ones that were wrong. But now it’s like…”

Silky heaved a sigh and put her fork and spoon together neatly on top of her half-full plate. “…I can’t even get a job at a fuckin’ local rag, so why the hell am I even tryin’ with the big city offices?”

There was something about it all that made Brooke’s heart break all over again, the way that life after uni had worn Silky down to the extent where she didn’t even know if she was good at anything any more, didn’t have much visible self-worth left. Silky had always been the heart and soul of their group; she, Akeria and Vanessa, and in the time it had taken between now and graduation Akeria had become the polar opposite of Silky- so completely embroiled in her quest to become a barrister that she barely had time to reply to any of them any more.

And Vanessa…well. She knew where Vanessa was. Or rather, she didn’t.

Greece was a big country.

“You’re trying because you’re Big Silky Nutmeg Motherfucking Ganache,” Brooke said with a determination she’d not felt in a while. “Come on Silk, you’re you. If grad life has broken you then what the fuck hope is there for any of us?”

( Any of us sounded better than me , Brooke thought.)

“Kiki’s doin’ okay for herself,” Silky shrugged, her downtrodden tone counteracted by the way she picked up her fork again and twirled a single strand of spaghetti around it, eating it once she was finished speaking.

“Kiki’s vagina-deep in a hellish and all-consuming masters degree that’s probably eating her up from the inside out just as much as everybody else’s jobs are. I mean, are any of us doing anything we actually like?”

“Nina an’ Monet? They’da quit by now if they hated teaching so much.”

“Nina West would join the fucking scientologists and stick it out just so she could say she didn’t give up. She’s the final boss of the term mama didn’t raise a quitter . They’re having a hard time, Silk. We all are. It’s just tough because we’re all so busy and shit at keeping in touch that everybody thinks each others’ lives are perfect but…they’re really not.”

“Yvie and Scarlet seem pretty happy.”

Brooke’s face took on an involuntary look of distaste, so irritated and bitter was she at the image of them and their perfect flat and their perfect jobs and their perfect coupley life. “They’ll have something up, nobody’s life is that perfect. Maybe their relationship’s secretly falling apart or…something, fuck, I don’t know.”

There was a beat of silence in which Brooke finished the last little pocket of tortellini she’d ordered and Silky twirled another mouthful of spaghetti around her fork. She chewed, then shrugged thoughtfully, her head tilting a little. “Y’know we should go on holiday. Fuck all this shit off for a week, get away from it all.”

Brooke’s eyebrows raised in appreciation of the idea. She and the girls had never been away together before and the prospect of lying on a beach doing absolutely nothing under the blazing sun was an inviting one. “What, a girls’ trip? Like in Sex and The City?”

“Mhm. ‘Cept we go on an all-inclusive to the Med ‘stead of Mexico ‘cause ain’t none of us can afford that shit.”

“Except Plastique.”

“True. Fuck that bitch. She could prolly buy Mexico.”

Brooke laughed and for the first time in a good few months she felt a little flicker of excitement lick at her heart, so much so that she could see her pulse race at her wrist. She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “Oh my God. I’m so in. Let’s do it.”

“We have to get all the girls on board, though. Otherwise there ain’t no point.”

“Definitely. Where should we go? Spain’s always good.”

Silky had her phone out and was typing furiously. She paused as something presumably loaded, then her face lit up. “If we go the week after Nina an’ Monet finish up school for Summer we can get flights to Crete for £20 return.”

“Twenty, what the fuck? That can’t be right,” Brooke screwed up her face in disbelief, and Silky cocked an eyebrow at her as she showed her the proof on her screen. Conceding, Brooke shrugged. “That’s so good. I don’t want to know what that plane’s like though. They probably just stuff you all into a tin can and ping you into the air with a giant rubber band.”

Silky howled with laughter and thumped the table so hard that the wine sloshed about in their glasses, little tiny red tsunamis. As Brooke snorted in response purely to Silky’s own mirth, a small thought set off a little drip of dread that threatened to put out the excitement that had only just begun to burn in her chest.

“Where is Crete again?”

Silky let out an unimpressed breath from her nose. “Bitch, you got all the geography skills of a Love Island contestant. It’s just off the Greek coast. Kinda near Turkey too, but it’s Greece.”

Brooke felt her heart drop, Alton Towers Oblivion all over again. She blinked quickly, tried to hide her discomfort. “Well, we’re not going there.”

Silky gave a small sigh, a little hint of resignation or long-suffering to it that Brooke didn’t appreciate. But when she reached over the table and patted her hand on top of Brooke’s, she felt a little bit more understood, a little bit more validated.

“B, Greece is a big place.”

It was the exact same thing Brooke herself had thought earlier, except now it didn’t seem true. Now, with the prospect of going there, it seemed like the tiniest microcosm of society. The world was simultaneously too big and too small, and Brooke felt the cold drip in her heart get worse. “Silky…”

“Look. We ain’t exactly gonna pick the same place she’s at, are we?”

Brooke put her head in her hands and sighed. “She’s not there anymore.”

“What?”

“I phoned the hotel a week ago to try and speak to her. I was going to fly out, try and talk to her and fix things. They said she didn’t work there anymore. So I don’t even know where she is at all.”

Silky huffed, frowning and concerned. “I’m sorry, Brooke, this shit must’ve been hell.”

“You’ve got no idea.”

There was a pause as Silky pushed her food around her plate. “Crete’s small, but it ain’t that small. We still got a one in a million chance of bumpin’ into her if we go.”

“That’s still too small for my liking. Both the island and the chances.”

“Aight, one in a billion. Trillion. Point is, it ain’t gonna happen. An’ besides…” Silky waggled her eyebrows, flashing her phone screen at Brooke again. “Twenty pounds for the first week of the school holidays. This shit’s like gold dust.”

Brooke smiled slowly in spite of herself. Maybe Silky was right. And maybe it would be fun to swan around Greece, eat seafood and pretend to be in some knockoff version of Mamma Mia. Scratch that, it would be fun. She’d get to spend a week surrounded by her friends in the sun, which was what she badly needed at the moment.

Brooke was nodding before she knew it. “Okay, fine. Crete it is.”

“YES, bitch!” Silky cheered, loud enough to be heard by the entire restaurant and possibly the chefs in the kitchen too. “Now let’s get dessert. All this wine needs soaked up by a big slice of sticky toffee puddin’.”

It was easy to feel optimistic with Silky back being her loud and just-the-right-side-of-obnoxious self, and with a plate of tiramisu in front of her. But after they’d finished up, paid their bill and she’d hugged Silky goodbye at the train station, Brooke found the endorphins wearing off as she got back to her dark flat and into her cold bed. Maybe it was because she was finally coming down from the high of meeting up with a beloved friend, maybe it was because she knew she had another monotonous, greyscale day of work to get through tomorrow.

Or perhaps, Brooke thought as she turned over in bed, caught sight of the familiar rose-gold frame and blew it a kiss, she was simply missing her girlfriend.

If she could even call Vanessa that any more.

[andthatisnotfake]

Don’t you forget about me

Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo Rating: Explicit Summary:

José wakes up in a hospital after an accident and he seems to have forgotten a few important things about his life...

Amnesia, but make it fun

Chapter 9

[fortheloveofskz]

Everyone go say thank you Rajah for posting that season 11 collage with the Branjie pic on it! 😂😂😂 Then go follow her. Honestly I like her more and more.

Rajah is beautiful....I watched her on the digital show the other day and she looked flawless.

Also omg look at our babies with their matching shaved heads all in love:

[blhates]

Just she answered quite a few answers about Vanessa and was constantly telling everyone to make sure they tune in to the Vegas show for the tea lol and then she posted Vs pic on her story with the caption “gah damn 👀”

Ohh did shee😏

Though they probably have to keep saying it for promo.

I did see the pic, I was like okay Kam👀

I swear this whole thing is lika a tennis match of content between Branjie and Kamjie

[zwritestuff]

hi its the anon from earlier w/ some hope about branjie fics! "You know you love me" by kikimateohytes on Ao3 has both of them as as rich private school ppl in a gossip girl au (its really good!) "Wondrous Creature" by doctorbuffypotterlock79 on Ao3 is very equal opportunity with both of them super clueless and "In the arms of the ocean" by the same author gives the most interesting and powerful background to vanessa! none of them are perfect but writers seem to be trying!

also more about branjie fics... its worth mentioning that the stereotypical portrayal isnt just a fic writer thing. vanessa was protrayed as a loud, somewhat clueless ball of energy on drag race itself, so i dont think ALL of the characterizations stem from internalized racism, but moreso from the portrayal we all saw on the show! like, the most known branjie moment is "hey papi" so some fics reference that. also ur feelings on this are so important i hope i am not coming off as dissmissive!

okay i have to admit doctorbuffy (or liv) is one of the three branjie writers i follow, their writing is so soft and marvelous. i definitely wasn’t including her when i complained about lazy fic writers, because she’s all but lazy. i’m gonna check out the other one too!

also, i have a post somewhere in this messy blog about how the latine queens often get just two kind of portrayals 1) either loud and volatile, ready to give you a piece of their mind anytime (vanjie), 2) dumb/airheaded that can’t grasp on the english language, without much else to it. i think vanjie does fall into this bias the producers have, bc we all know she’s more than just a loud, clueless person, and they rarely let her have deep moments that weren’t related to brooke lynn (i know their relationship was a big part of their run on the season, but sometimes i wish they let vanessa talk about personal things more often like they allowed brooke to talk about her anxiety and shit.)