#and miley has gripped me this year I dunno why

[aberooski]

Exposing myself with my Spotify wrapped aksksk

[amaskofmyart]

Sorry about the dim backgrounds Lmao, I usually draw at, like, three in the morning in the pitch dark of my room so it’s to keep my eyes from burning from their sockets lmao

1: This is a sneak peak at one of my Anti-Characters! I dunno why, but the anti characters from the Archie comics will always hold a special place in my heart, even if they aren’t all that great lmao. The purple one we see here is Miley the Hedgehog, the Anti version of Hannah! She’s rude, callous, and uncaring for most other peoples feelings - her romantic interest is Scourge and they have a very very unhealthy relationship. Almost being too Possessive and overbearing of each other while being the kind to purposely piss the other off.

2: A lot more establishing doodles, trying desperately to find a way to draw them that felt comfortable to me while still being able to read that they were sonic characters. Ya know, finding that balance 🥰🥰

3: introducing two new ocs! The raccoon twins Yin and Yang! A couple of scoundrels who live on the streets, these two have had it hard since their house burned down and their parents died definitely not having to do with one of them causing it by accident. They’ve lived on the street since they were about six years old, being naturally acclimated to be decent thieves (also helps that they were adopted by an older rat who showed them the ropes and best spots to hit. (Another oc of @/creepylb’s))

4-6: Just sketching the characters to get used to them.

7: Nex has a lot of anxieties (duh) but sometimes they get too much for him and he completely breaks down. Back in the day he didn’t have anyone to turn to when he got like this, Eggman having shut him away most of his life - so he still has a bit of a habit of doing the same even when he has his closest friends.

8: Don’t worry! Silvers husband finally returned from war, I just gotta draw them together!!

9: The best thing on this page is Scourge and you know it >:^)) (also a random P03 because this game has a VICE GRIP ON ME)

Also some pieces have dates on them, just so ya know how old this set is <3

[artificialqueens]

gold coloured prisms of light, chapter three (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | word count: 6462

AN: Third and final chapter. Thank you so much for all the sweet wonderful feedback on this fic. I enjoyed writing it so, so much, and it’s always going to hold a special place in my heart. Hope you enjoy this last instalment. Writ is the best beta <3

Brock is days away from his plane to LA to film season eleven of Drag Race and he’s never felt more harried in his life.

The past two weeks have been a haze of calls with designers, fittings, picking up garments, and trying not to think about the fact that he’s soon going to be filmed for national television.

It’s not that Brock’s a shy person, not really. He can work a crowd, he can entertain people and make them laugh especially if he has a drink in hand.

But he does it underneath his armour of drag, layers and layers of makeup and clothing and pads and tights and they make him feel indestructible when he has them on. Once all of it is stripped away, though?

He’s terrified of it.

How do you do it

Do what

Get people to like you so much

Make everyone fall in love with you

Pretty sure that’s just you falling in love with me, boo

No seriously

Why’re you asking

We’re gonna be on camera

Uh huh

Everyone’s gonna watch us

Uh huh

People we don’t even know

You bet

But you know what

You’re fucking weird but also the best

Anyone with a brain cell is going to love you

But what if they don’t

What if people think that he’s terrible, that he’s a failure, that he doesn’t deserve to be on this season? What if he fucks up and matches Jose by going home first this season?

So then fuck em

Who cares about the one percent that don’t

I don’t want your crazy ass to be listening to them

Focus on those who are louder and love you

‘Cause they the ones who are right

Not people with shitty opinions that match your inner sabotore

sabatoor

sabotour

Oh fuck it you know what I mean

Brock laughs despite himself, wishing that Jose was here with him instead of states away.  

You did NOT just say inner saboteur

And what about it?

Brock pauses before his next question. Not because he doesn’t know how to ask it, but more so because he doesn’t know if he wants to find out what Jose’s answer is. But his planning, detail oriented side wins out the way that it always does.

Are we gonna tell everyone?

About what

OH

Brock snorts but he gets it, really. Being able to talk to Jose feels so natural, so part of him that he can’t distinguish it from breathing or falling asleep, that he forgets that not everyone has it, that it’s not common knowledge. That soulmates aren’t universal for everyone.

That Jose is his.

I dunno

What do you think

I don’t know either

Do you think they would use it against us

Production would maybe

I dunno if the rest of the cast would care

What if they see it as an advantage

Call it cheating

Cheating how

I dunno

I just don’t want to lose the ability to talk to you y'know

Fuck

Me neither

I’d lose my damn mind not having you

Talking to my crazy self

I’d miss you too much

Brock’s heart tugs the way it always does when he has to leave Jose, when he doesn’t know when he’ll see him again. Even though soon they’ll be together in actual physical proximity, for an extended period of time.

At least, Brock hopes so because neither of them better go home first.

Brock’s just walked into the workroom for the first time and he’s scared shitless, but Jose is sitting there sparkling in glitter and beaming at him and the sight is enough to calm him down.

Nina’s bounding over to him, hugging him ever so tight. Brock is elated because he’s going to have Nina and Jose with him, and maybe the idea of being on national television is less scary when people closest to him are by his side.

Brock’s arms seek Jose out almost unconsciously, Jose fitting there like he’s always meant to, and Brock has to resist pressing a kiss to the top of his head what with three cameras filming them at one time.

A’keria’s looking between the two of them with a curious expression when Jose’s hand stays on his thigh as they sit around a table, and Brock can’t help but put his hand on top of his.

It feels weird as the day goes on, having to pretend like he doesn’t know every inch of Jose better than he knows himself. Pretending Jose is just a cute acquaintance when production asks Brock what he thinks of him as they’re filming confessionals. Part of him wants to scream it out to the world, have everyone know. But on the other hand it feels like they’re back in high school, sneaking around and kissing behind the bleachers. They are, in a way, based on how Jose tugs him into a bathroom stall and pulls him close, both of them breathless and wide eyed and giggling.

“This is already miles ahead of season ten.”

“Why, ‘cause you haven’t gone home first yet?”

“Bitch.” Jose smacks Brock’s arm and it makes him cackle. “It’s still day one.”

“We’re both gonna keep going way past the first episode.” Brock cups Jose’s face with his palm, his thumb running across his cheekbone, almost forgetting that they’re cooped up in a bathroom stall. “Till we lip-sync for that crown and I beat you for that 100k check. I’ll dance all around your pirouetting ass.” Jose grins and it’s so bright, so radiant, so perfectly him.

“You wish.” Brock ruffles his hair, grinning when it makes Jose grumble. “Though I’ll be sure to stay out of the way of your flailing limbs.”

What a sight it will be if the two of them make it to the end. Brock doesn’t ever, ever want to lip-sync against Jose in a competition setting unless the two of them are lip-syncing for the crown. He’s not sure if his heart would be able to take the damage.

Brock’s on the main stage and looking like a neon superhero and he fucking feels like one too, because he’s just won the first main challenge.

He’s won. He’s actually won.

The five year old inside of Brock wants to dance around while his pageant side reins him in and holds him back, keeps him looking composed on the main stage. Besides, Ru’s looking at him and Michelle’s looking at him and Miley Cyrus is looking at her cuticles but he needs to remain poised, or Farrah will absolutely ream him out for it later.

Not only that, Jose’s been called safe.

Brock’s still here. Jose’s still here. He’s going to get more days with him in this weird little filming bubble that is already making him lose his perception of reality, and it’s only been a couple of days.

Jose pulls Brock to the smoking area as soon as the cameras call cut and they get a break, while production goes to film Soju going home.

He’s the prettiest girl Brock’s ever seen, a red flower crown on his head and glittering like he’s a star on fire. Jose looks like the world’s been lifted from his shoulders and Brock gets it, years and years of being Jose’s soulmate makes him feel Jose’s relief, Jose’s elation that he’s still here, he’s on to episode two.

“Y’know, I’m still mad as hell they sent me home first last season but being here right now? Feels like the best type of revenge.” Jose rubs his hands together and Brock has to hold back a laugh.

“Revenge against who?”

Jose shrugs. “I dunno. Just feels fucking great.” He straightens up, taps Brock’s shoulder. “Also, you! Winning the first challenge and getting a first class ticket straight to Paris, bitch!”

Brock can’t help himself, he wiggles his hands around excitedly because he’s been holding it in, damn it, and Jose won’t judge him for it. “I still can’t believe it.”

“You better take me to Paris with you. I want some fresh croissants.”

Brock hasn’t even thought about yet about who he’ll bring with him, but seven days in Paris with Jose seems like a dream.  He’s gonna draw it out for Jose, though. “I’ll bring you if you’re good.”

Jose pouts and Brock has to resist the urge to kiss him, ruin both of their lipsticks. “I’m real good.”

Brock grins, unable to resist the hand he lets drift above Jose’s hipbone, making him shiver. “Are you, now?”

He’s about to grip him more tightly, do something incredibly stupid, but then production’s yelling out ‘five minutes!’ and they jump backwards from each other, looking around to see if anyone’s caught them.

Not yet. Their secret remains safe, for now.

Brock is in a highlighter orange jumpsuit and he feels like a helicopter, hovering and tutting over Jose who’s spiralling down and down and down.

Brock doesn’t know what to do when there’s cameras watching their every move, and every part of him just wants to pull Jose in close and tight to his chest and whisper just how amazing he is into his ear.

Jose’s shoulders are slumped, his fake lashes cast to the ground and Brock can’t help but put his fingers under Jose’s chin, lift his face up towards him.

Brock waits until Tiffany Pollard comes backstage and the rest of the cast is squealing over her, his heart hurting over the fact that Jose would absolutely be joining them if he wasn’t so upset right now. He grabs Jose’s hand while the cameras are all trained on the Untucked couches, pulls him behind a set backdrop and turns off their mics.

Jose looks up at him, confused. “What are you-”

“Shhh.” Brock holds up a finger to his lips, replies in a whisper. “Don’t want them to catch us.”

“Right.” Jose’s trying to whisper, he really is, bless his heart, not that he’s being successful at all.

Not that Brock really minds too much.

“You were better than most of those girls up there, in my eyes.” He’s going to tell Jose over and over again, lift the veil of self hatred and disappointment that seems to be marring Jose’s being over his own performance in Trump: The Rusical. “And the judges gave you better critiques than Mercedes and Ra’jah. They’re going to call you as safe.”

“Wish I was as confident in that as you are.” Jose’s laugh is humourless. “I can’t go home yet. I fucking can’t be a disappointment again.”

“You were the biggest name on season ten. Hands down. How is that a disappointment?” Brock doesn’t get it, because Jose’s successful and winning at the game of being a famous drag queen and Brock could really pick up some tips from him.

“‘Cause I’m not good at this.” Jose gestures to himself, to his outfit. “I can be a headass and make people laugh but I’m bombing all these damn challenges.”

“You’re not bombing them.” Maybe Brock sounds a little indignant but Jose is wrong, he is. “Literally the challenge before this episode. The diva worship one. You killed it.”

“And yet, still safe. I dunno what it’s gonna take. Gonna have to pull a bunny out of a hat at this point.” Jose grumbles but the image makes Brock laugh.

“That’s one way to do a lip-sync reveal.” Brock nudges Jose’s side, sees the little smile peeking out on his face no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

“Speaking of romance, where’d they go, disappearin’ again? We know you two be hiding!” A’keria’s yelling and all of the other castmates are cackling along with her, and Brock can hear Tiffany Pollard’s voice letting out an ominous Miss Vaaaanjie.

Jose lets out a little huff. “So damn nosy-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentiment because A’keria’s tugging on both of their hands, pulling them over to the couch. Brock kisses Jose in front of the rest of the girls because they’re all goading them on and the shrieks they let out makes Brock wonder how they’d react if they found out that him and Jose are soulmates.

Jose’s drawings show up in orange ink on Brock’s skin that night, matching the runway theme and the way Brock’s own heart feels like it’s bathed in warm sunlight.

Brock is trapped in a hotel room and he feels restless.

He wants to do something. Anything. Go for a walk, run some errands, but the door of his hotel room has been taped over and he’s not allowed to leave.

It’s 11:47 p.m., and Brock knows that he should probably sleep, considering that they’re all going to be up early to head to filming and he still needs to finish putting his final Farm to Runway look together.

Hell, he’d even rather work on his look than be pacing in the tiny room, like he is right now.

Psst

I’m bored

Brock feels like a child passing notes in grade school, bothering his best friend while he tries to pay attention to the teacher.

What do you want me to do about it

Give me something to do about it

I’m working on my squats

What? You are NOT

Really?

How else do you think I keep my booty looking so tight

Jesus Christ

Though Jose isn’t wrong. It is a great butt, and one that Brock misses, quite frankly. The fact that him and Jose are both in hotel rooms, but separate ones so that they can’t even do anything about it, is ridiculous.

I do know something that can keep you entertained though

What

Brock watches as the cartoon outline of a dick appears on his chest and he can practically hear Jose’s cackle in whatever hotel room he’s in.

A second one appears on his thigh, then a third on his bicep, and he can’t help but snort.

You having fun

Plenty fun thanks for asking

I’ll leave you to it then

Have fun washing these off

BITCH come back

Miss me already huh

I know you miss me too don’t be playing

I do

But you seem to be having fun with your doodles, I’ll let you do that

Boy if you don’t-

You just like being a tease

What you gonna do about it

Leave you to it

Don’t you dare

Why, do you want something else?

Sure, Brock is alone in his hotel room, but he can’t help the shit eating grin that grows on his face. He knows that Jose isn’t going to be able to resist something so blatant.

I want you

You’ll have to be more specific than that

Brock can almost imagine the way that Jose must be muttering bitch under his breath, getting antsier by the second. Hell, he knows that he is himself.

Fuck

I miss you fucking me

Filling me up

Pinning me down

Brock unbuttons his pants, pulls out his dick and he has to resist a groan, because fuck, now he’s thinking about it and it’s been too long, he needs it now. He drops all pretenses of teasing Jose, because his self control is all but gone.

I wanna bend you over the counter like last time

Remember how whiny you were

I had to punish you because you were misbehaving so much

Fuck

I know you liked it a little too much

Please

Next time

You want me to fuck you again like that, baby?

Yes daddy

Brock can already feel how close he is and he has to bite his lip, keep himself on the edge, because the nickname is about to send him over it. Jose brings it out from time to time and Brock likes it more than he wants to admit, a fact that Jose knows well.

I’ll keep your hips down against the counter, get you so close that you almost come

Pull back because you’re not begging enough

Get you so close

Please please please

I’ll wait till your voice is all raw from begging ‘cause you want it so bad

Then fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk for a week

Fuck daddy

All the neighbours will know what I’m doing to you ‘cause you can never stay quiet, can you

Good

Let them know

Brock’s grip on his pen is shaky as he comes all over his own stomach, letting out a breathless moan as he strokes himself through it with his other hand because he’s spent and fuck, they’ve never done it like this before.

Jose takes a full two minutes before he replies, and Brock knows it’s because he just came, too.

Fuck

Jesus christ

God I miss your ass

My ass, huh?

You know what I mean bitch

Brock’s just done one of the best lip-syncs in Drag Race herstory and his pink sequin outfit is too tight, way too tight. The layers and layers of tights and fabric and padding are restricting, stopping him from being able to breathe, from filling up his lungs the way he so desperately needs to.

It’s different from the way he’d been out of breath during the lip-sync, where the exertion as he put everything he had into his performance made his heart beat faster and faster and faster, his lungs working overtime. Now there’s no reason for them to continue like this, not when the cameras have stopped filming, not when they’re supposed to be getting out of drag so they can head back to the hotel.

But Brock cant focus on getting out of drag. It’s too much, too much of a task to apply his brain towards, especially when the most he’s able to do right now is lean against a wall, trying to focus his vision on the ground in front of him, looking at the patterns on the floor tiles.

He feels fingers intertwine with his, looking up and there’s Jose already in his boy clothes, his eyes soft and kind and worried. Brock doesn’t want to make him worry, because it doesn’t matter, not really, he’s survived the lip-sync and he’s fine, he should be.

“I’m fine.” Brock musters up a smile on his face, one to reassure Jose though Jose doesn’t seem to buy it, his thumb running in soft circles over Brock’s palm.

“It’s okay if you’re not, y’know.” Jose’s voice is soft and Brock doesn’t hear it like this often, though when he does it’s almost always directed towards him. A part of him likes it, that this small part of Jose is just for him to hear.

“It doesn’t matter. I survived that lip sync, I’ll live another episode.” It’s true, he did. He’s made it through and yes, he’s relieved, but he’s also exhausted all of his reserves. It feels like the day has been a battle, one that’s left him worse for wear.

But he doesn’t want Jose to worry.

Jose helps him get out of drag just like he did the first night that they’d met in person, while the rest of the girls are fooling around in other areas of the work room, barely paying attention to the two of them. He’s gentle, pulling off Brock’s wig cap and lashes and layers and layers of tights and padding on his body. He pushes Brock to sit down on a chair in front of the mirror, leaning against the counter as he wipes Brock’s face clean of foundation and contour and powder.

Jose presses a kiss to Brock’s lips when he’s done, and Brock feels lighter, less constricted, though his heart is aching for Jose in a way that’s going to bowl him over when he thinks about it too much.

For someone so outgoing and vocal and loud, Jose knows how to calm him down in the way he needs it the most. Without too many words, without overt reassurances or distraction tactics. Just being there, both in gentle touches and deep pressure and helping Brock get through actions that seem insurmountable, one step at a time without even asking.

Brock’s not sure if anyone else has ever done this for him before. Then again, there’s never been anyone else like Jose in his life, nor will there ever be. Brock knows that for certain.

Brock is lip-syncing against his soulmate and sure, the song’s at the bridge, but he hasn’t quite processed it yet. His brain is foggy but he’s going to focus, damn it, he’s going to perform the hell out of this song.

Even if looking over at Jose makes his heart skip a beat for just a second, makes him almost trip over his own heels.

The song ends and Brock’s breathing in gasps, because of course, of course they were meant to lip-sync against each other, of course they were. Brock had told Jose, he really did, backstage in Untucked because production would have never let go of the chance to have the star crossed lovers face off against each other in the final moments. Not with such a juicy storyline.

The best part is that the producers don’t even know the half of it. It gives Brock a strange sense of satisfaction, that not everything belongs to the producers to manipulate between him and Jose. They don’t deserve the chance to be able to do so.

Brock’s name is called to stay and it doesn’t give him the relief that he so desperately wants, because they both deserve to stay and Jose can’t leave and why, why was there already a double save earlier in the season?

He grabs Jose’s face and kisses him hard - who cares that they’re in drag, that they have lipstick on, that they’re being filmed, that this is the epic, thrilling conclusion to a love story that the producers want to craft to satisfy an adoring public? It doesn’t matter, because there’s so much that Brock wants to say (I’m sorry, please don’t hate me, please wait for me, please don’t leave) that he can’t. Not right now, not in front of everyone.

Jose’s never been in his hotel room for filming, but it still feels a little empty when Brock returns to it that evening. His bed a little too big, the four walls surrounding him a little too quiet.

Already home

Goddamn

Living in LA is convenint

Conveenent

Convenient as hell

Come back

I miss you

Brock’s not a clingy sort of person by any means, but he can’t stop his heart’s tug for Jose no matter how hard he tries.

Miss you so fucking much

Hurry and finish up filming so you can come here and hang out with me and Riley

Imma go grocery shopping and get snacks

What do you want

The words make Brock laugh despite himself, because the domesticity flows so naturally between them, as if they’re just two regular people coming home from work.

Get those salt and vinegar chips you had when I came to visit in February

You still remember snacks from February?

They were good!!

They don’t have them in Nashville

That makes you sound like a country bumpkin

Hey, I’m from Toronto

Yeah yeah, a country bumpkin in a parka

The rays of sunlight begin to light up the room as the hours go on, and ink fills up Brock’s skin that he’s going to have a hell of a time washing off. Brock’s barely gotten any sleep because why would he, when talking to Jose is so much more fun? He knows he’s going to be exhausted in the morning, but he can’t bring himself to care. Because Jose’s still here with him, Jose still cares and isn’t mad about the lip-sync and they’re still them, complete with all the nonsense and softness that always calms his heart without fail.

Jose yells at him through big capital letters along his side to GO TO SLEEP, BITCH, and Brock wishes that he had Jose in his arms to help him do so.

Brock’s still in his glittering mirrored jumpsuit from the final finale lip-sync, the cameras just having called cut, when his mom taps his shoulder.

“The one in the cheetah print. It’s him, right?” His mom’s eyes are all knowing, too knowing, and Brock should have expected it, really.

“Who?” Still, Brock’s voice is squeaky. Just the way it always is when his mother brings up things that he doesn’t want to talk about with her, because they make him feel like he’s twelve and vulnerable again.

“That one’s your soulmate. I’m your mother. I can tell.”

Jose is hugging his own mom and introducing her to Silky and A’keria and laughing his head off, causing a commotion that is making the others around them look over with a smile.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

Brock’s been trying, so desperately trying, to let his mother in more. Even when he could see the hesitation in her eyes when he first came out (despite the fact that she had already known), even when he’d told her that he’d started drag and she didn’t understand it in the least.

But the last couple of years, his mother has been trying. Brock can see it.

And so he will, too.

He grabs Jose’s arm when he passes by, pulling him into the conversation. Jose’s face is bright and happy and his eyes widen in understanding when he sees the woman in front of him.

“Mom, this is Jose.”

Then Jose’s making her light up and laugh with his natural charm and part of Brock almost can’t believe it, that this is his life. That his mother is meeting his soulmate, that his mother doesn’t hate him, that his mother has changed from the way that she used to be. The way she used to make twelve year old Brock want to shrink in on himself, hating himself, wanting to hide everything precious to him.

Brock wishes that he could go back in time to that version of himself, hold his hand, pull him into a hug. Tell him that everything will be alright, that he’ll find Jose in real life, that his mother will be okay with it and that he’s going to feel like he has a family again. It’ll look different from the one he has now, but it’ll be better. Full of more love.

Brock remembers himself at twelve, when the marker in his pocket felt like a secret he had to hide rather than one he could freely talk about. He’d had no idea what would be coming for him in the future.

Seeing Jose and his mother get along, laugh together as his mom squeezes Jose’s hand, is a sight that Brock is going to commit to memory.

Brock has an arm around Jose while they wait for production to finish up last-minute adjustments to the reunion set, and he’s antsy.

“Do you think we should?”

“You’ve asked me like fifty times in the last minute, and I still don’t know.”

Brock fidgets. “Sorry.”

Jose turns around in his grasp. “Don’t stress, okay? We’ll know what to say once we’re up there and they ask us. We can decide if we wanna say it in the moment.”

Him and Jose still haven’t decided whether they’re going to tell everyone about being soulmates. Nina knows, naturally, having seen drawings on Brock’s skin since before they filmed Drag Race. Silky and A’keria know, which made them approve of Brock a lot quicker.

But everyone else?

The rest of the cast doesn’t. Production doesn’t. Hell, Ru doesn’t.

They’d managed to get through the entire season by meticulously keeping their bodies ink free before having to wear revealing outfits, being careful about where they wrote and drew.

But at the same time, the game is over. The season is done. They’ve already filmed the finale, and Brock has an idea of where it’s going to go, anyway.

He has nothing to lose. They have nothing to lose. Besides, he wants to scream it from the rooftops, Jose is his soulmate, Jose is his soulmate.

Brock’s made up his mind as soon as the cameras start rolling, but Jose is the one who lets it slip.

“So, how did this all get started?” Ru is looking between the two of them, and A’keria and Silky are smirking, and Jose whips out a marker from who knows where, a grin on his face.

“Contrary to what y’all thinking, it didn’t start on season eleven. Watch this.” Jose pauses, looking at Brock like he’s almost asking permission, and Brock nods, because why not?

The gasps from Ru and the rest of the girls and the cameramen when Jose draws a star on his hand that shows up on Brock’s makes it worth it.

It’s the first time that Brock’s ever seen Ru speechless, the cue cards in his hands rendered useless, the questions that he’d been planning to ask no longer relevant.

“You’re-you’re soulmates?” Ru’s looking back to the producers behind the cameras, almost asking if they knew, if this was planned.

But the producers shrug back, and it’s more satisfying than Brock wants to admit.

They’ve done it on their own terms, the way it should be.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids.” It feels strange to Brock, being able to talk about it, but the rest of the cast is quiet, attentive. Listening. “We didn’t meet in person until we were in our twenties, but Vanjie was worth the wait.”

The cast awws and even Ru looks a little bit less shell shocked. Jose, for his part, is preening, his face lit up in happiness, and Brock’s never seen anyone more beautiful.

“Some could call that an unfair advantage, you know,” Ru points between the two of them, “being able to talk to each other whenever you wanted to.”

Jose shrugs. “Hey, we were never on the same teams, what would we be using spy tactics for? Ain’t no point to that.”

Ru’s opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out something else to say, when Scarlet pipes up from behind them in a dreamy voice. “That’s so romantic. You’re both living a fairytale.”

Brock snorts. Regardless of what others say, he’s glad it’s out in the open.

Sure, Brock’s a private person. But if the public is hanging on to every last detail of their relationship, he’s happy he gets to share his favourite part about it.

Brock is in a random town in Arizona for a gig and he’s tired.

He knows that he has to capitalize on his first year after being on Drag Race, make all the coins he can before everything dries up. But being consistently on the road is wearing him down, the constant new faces and the same questions being asked over and over again before he performs the same numbers, because he’s too damn exhausted to learn anything else.

He makes small talk with the local queens, plasters a smile on his face because he remembers being in that position, and that it pays to be nice. But it’s draining, and he wishes he could be home instead, the cats and Jose by his side.

He doesn’t even know where home is anymore. Not Nashville, not really. Not Toronto, not anymore.

But the word home makes him think of Jose’s laugh and Jose snuggling into his side and Jose making him a cup of tea when he’s too antsy. It makes him think of Jose’s grip on him tightening when he’s about to come, swear words that leave Jose’s mouth echoing in his ears. Home is the way that he greets Jose at the airport, or when they step into each others apartments, no longer having to rely only on Sharpies to feel like they’re in the same place.

He’s in an Uber to the airport at 3 a.m. because he has another gig the next day when words appear on his forearm that make him pause.

Move in with me

Brock please

I miss you

The words tug on his heart, crush it into small pieces because Brock misses him too, and wants nothing more than to be with him all the time. He doesn’t know how they survived so long without meeting in person. He’s not sure if he’d ever be able to go that long again.

The idea comes to him before he’s even pulled his Sharpie out from his bag.

Sure, he’d been planning to do it properly, plan something nice because he knows Jose likes that sort of thing, but he needs to ask now. Needs to know.

Because really, would there ever be any other option for them?

I’ll do you one better

????

Marry me

Brock’s hand is shaking, because fuck, he’s just asked his soulmate to marry him and he hasn’t replied yet and what if Jose isn’t on the same page at all and-

You asshole

Of course I will yes

But you better get me a proper ring

Brock’s laugh comes out half like a sob, and his Uber driver is curiously looking at him in the rearview mirror but he doesn’t care.

You know I will

Had to make sure you wanted to first

Bitch

Duh

Can’t believe it took you so long to ask

You could have easily asked me, y’know

Nah

Knew your ass likes to be the kind to do that shit

More that your ass is the kind that likes being proposed to, let’s be real

And???

Brock laughs because he can fully picture Jose’s grin, his indignation as he writes back. His Uber stops at the departure gate at the small airport and he has to unload his bags, his heart feeling like it’s already flying, because Jose said yes, Jose said yes.

A doodle of a wedding band appears on his finger as he’s going through security, and Brock never wants Jose to ever wash it off of his own hand.

Brock remembers being seventeen, seeing one of his older sisters show up to Thanksgiving dinner with a ring on her finger and her fiance in tow. A part of him had felt his heart flip in his chest, wondering if it would happen for him, when it would happen for him.

If it would be Jose who would have a matching ring on his finger.

And now, more than ten years later? He’s going to have one.

Brock’s in a tux and it’s tugging on him in weird places but he’s never been happier in his life.

He looks around the tent in which their wedding reception is taking place. His mother and his sisters and his nieces and nephews are here, their close friends are here, as are countless queens that have become family to him over the past decade or so.

He swears that Farrah tears up while giving her speech, though she’ll never admit it when Brock asks her about it later.

Jose is glowing as he sits with his own mom, her arm around him and they both look so happy. He sees Jose’s family that’s he’s gotten to know by name, and he wishes that he’d gotten to meet Jose’s abuela, the one that he’d heard about when they were kids.

There’s people missing from the wedding, people that both him and Jose desperately wanted to have there, but Brock supposes that that’s life.

He has a real wedding band on his finger now, and he never wants to take it off. A piece of him that’s also a piece of Jose, a commitment.

When Brock was younger, he’d wondered how soulmates worked. How they’d be together forever. Then he’d seen his own parents fall apart, seen how his mom became so much happier without his father. The way she’d done better without hers.

Brock gets it now. Soulmates aren’t the be all, end all. Soulmates still require effort, solving problems together, weathering through storms that threaten to ruin everything only to come out the other side a lot more stronger.

They’re going to have to try to work on it. They’re still going to tour and be away from each other, the way they’ve been for the last couple years, but it’s okay, it is. Because it’s not forever.

They’re capitalizing on their careers and getting their fill now and experiencing everything now while still getting to share it with each other through stories written along their skin.

He gets to keep sharing things with Jose, forever, if he wants to. His husband.

They’re going to be the soulmates that the stories talk about, the ones that work out, in the end. Brock knows it.

Brock takes another sip of his wine when a niece and nephew run up to him, the tiny tux and flower girl dress making him melt.

His niece crosses her arms. “Liam said- ”

“-I didn’t say, Emma said it-”

“-that you and Uncle Jose can write to each other. I think they’re lying.” His niece raises an eyebrow, waiting for an answer, and Brock wonders whether he was ever that rambunctious at six years old.

Nonetheless, he pulls out a Sharpie from his pocket, turns his hand over. “Watch this.”

He draws a smiley face, their customary smiley face, and has to hold a laugh back at the sight of his niece and nephew whipping their head over to look at Jose, to peek at his hand. They leave him, running over to where Jose’s standing and interrupting his conversation with his cousins to turn his hand over.

“Emma was right!”

“No way!”

Jose’s holding back a laugh at their astonishment and he looks over at Brock, the raised eyebrow and the soft smile on his face enough to make Brock’s heart all warm.

His niece and nephew run back, grabbing Brock’s arm.

“Write more, write more.” His nephew is practically spinning around.

His niece’s brow is furrowed. “But how?”

“Soulmates.” Brock nudges her shoulder. “Hey, maybe you’ll have one, too.”

His niece wrinkles her nose. “I hope it’s not a boy like yours.”

When she comes to him and Jose a couple years later with writing on her arms and a million questions to go with it, they don’t have all of the answers to give to her. Hell, he and Jose still don’t even have all the answers for themselves, but there’s one piece of advice that Brock says to her.

“Start with your name,” Brock hands her a Sharpie from the kitchen table, like the many that are scattered around their shared apartment, and laughs as she uncaps the marker enthusiastically with her teeth. “And everything will fall into place.”