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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Something Just Like This, Chapter One (Trixya) - Calliope

a/n: hello hello hello, this is cal, the writer of cirque d'amour and I'm back back back again! (with a slightly different pseudonym)

this fic will be the slowest of slow burns if y'all can handle that, with the beloved friends to lovers trope; however, that friendship will always be a little blurred...

I'm actually quite nervous to post this! I do hope you enjoy it.

*TW: MILD MENTIONS OF UNDEREATING/OVEREXERCISING

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Trixie is sweating.

Trixie isn't quite used to the sensation - the fire on her skin, the rush of blood throughout her veins, the protest of every single sinew - and to be beetroot red in front of a wealth of fit strangers.

Trixie could hardly care, though; her mind was in a thick fog. She'd force-fed her thick thighs into some loose leggings, had pulled a baggy t-shirt over her head, and lost herself in arguably the healthiest form of self-punishment. Trixie was by no stretch interested in becoming a gym bunny - but today, she needed the release.

Trixie cranked the height of her treadmill up higher, feeling her muscles screaming in protest. She ignored their pleas, puffing out laboured breaths as she increased her speed. Her neighbours, all buff and beautiful, paid her no attention, and that is exactly what Trixie needed - to be ignored, whilst she punished herself.

Her music was cranked up as loud as her broken iPhone would allow, and she pitifully replayed Ed Sheeran on a loop as she climbed. Every time her mind dare wander to the forbidden fruit she had just tasted, she would stubbornly shut her thoughts down.

Trixie was not a home-wrecker. Not, of course, on purpose, anyway.

But despite telling herself on a loop that this was the truth, Trixie couldn't help but feel like she was, at the very least, being white-lied to.

A bead of sweat trickled from Trixie's pounding temple, which she quickly dashed away with a feeble hand. Her insides felt weak, and she couldn't quite decide whether that was from lack of food and forced exercise, or because she couldn't help but think about what happened only two days before.

***

4 years earlier

K: hi :)

Oh for the love of all things, what am I doing?

Trixie rubbed a weary hand across her face, pressing sharply into the cheeks that poked out from under her skin. Her phone vibrated a second time, a new message waking her phone from its momentary sleep.

Trixie glared at it as though it was betraying her, and she silently turned her phone face-down against her desk.

Trixie had joined a dating site. A dating site named Brenda, no less. She uploaded her cutest photos; where her tiny cat Kim were pressed against her cheeks, or the one where she were her skinniest; make-up painted and hair in perfect ringlets.

This was not her current reality, though: Kim had stubbornly ignored her all night, probably judging her every move, and Trixie had gained a little weight. It was okay, though, because who wanted to date someone who had their spine on show? Damn, fuck. Be friends with . Not date.

The thing is, Trixie wasn't looking for love.

A third buzz from her dormant phone jumped Trixie from her fervent haze, and she snatched it into clawed hands.

Pearl: I can't come this weekend - gotta work. sorry

Trixie's baited breath shuddered from her lips, the familiar feeling of upset creeping at her insides. This was the very first message she'd received from her long-distance girlfriend all day, and hardly a pleasant one at that.

Trixie lay her phone flat against the desk where she was perched, and drew her legs up onto her computer chair. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest, her chin resting somberly against the soft fabric of her Disney pj's that were littered with tiny grey thumpers.

No, Trixie wasn't looking for love. Her heart was occupied; occupied by someone far away, someone who had stolen her heart at a time she thought she needn't have one. Someone who was now so distant, not only in a physical sense, but miles apart emotionally.

Trixie couldn't understand it. Her and Pearl were a match made in heaven; even their astrological signs had aligned, making Trixie think that the very stars wrote out their love in ageless constellations. Pearl would smoke a short blunt, her arm wrapped tentatively around Trixie's small shoulders, and they'd play old runs of GTA on her dusty PlayStation 2. Pearl would cook beautiful dinners for her, vegetarian of course, and let her watch reruns of Barbie's Dream House, despite her disdain for its childish backdrop. Pearl would fuck Trixie into oblivion, tending carefully to all of her kinks and indulging full-heartedly into every single fantasy that Trixie had ever had.

Would. Pearl would do these things. But not anymore.

Trixie carefully plucked her phone back up, turning it over in her hands for a few hesitant moments before finally unlocking it.

T: hey :)

Trixie felt a prickle of guilt gnaw away at her bones as she pressed a thumb to the "send" button on the Brenda messenger. No, she thought. I am doing nothing wrong. I'm just making friends.

She turned her attention to the pitiful thread of texts from Pearl.

Trixie: okay… I could come to you? I don't mind hanging out at your flat while you work.

Trixie knew that Pearl's reply may not come for hours, days even. She heaved a shuddering sigh, forcing herself to her slippered feet in search of her grumpy cat.

Her phone buzzed against the thick of her thigh from her pocket, and she snatched it up immediately, hoping desperately for Pearl's response.

No, it was the girl from Brenda.

K: how are you doing? I'm not very good at this malarkey, but you seem cute, so… here I am

Trixie snickered slightly, deciding to inspect this person further.

She thumbed at her profile picture to get a closer look - she was butch, but softly so, with dirty blonde hair that was religiously scraped back throughout all of her profile photos. She seemed cute, though, Trixie thought. She had piercing green eyes and Trixie swore she could spy a chiselled abdomen beneath her plain t-shirts.

T: thank you, that's sweet! you seem cute too, is that a guitar I spy in one of your photos?

Trixie knew this game she was playing was inherently dangerous. She knew that she was projecting dissatisfaction from her current relationship, and seeking some form of, well, anything , from anyone . Still, she couldn't help but feel a thrill when a second message - from a different girl, no less - brightened her dormant screen. Another butch, with thick, jet-black hair, and piercings on her lip, offending her with the opening line of "hey there ;)".

Still, this fruitless back and forth with cute, eager bachelors certainly beat her usual evenings of misery; overeating, overthinking, and waiting for a call from Pearl that would never come.

"What's up?"

Trixie nearly flung her phone from her palms with fright, her hair whipping her pink cheeks as she spun on her heels to greet the intruder, fist raised with a warning.

Of course, it was only her roommate, Blair - a boy who, despite creeping past the age of 20, looked like he belonged in a primary school. His deer-like legs stretched below him, and in his tiny arms lay a bag of what could only be Chinese takeout.

His sculpted eyebrows raised in wonderment at his roommate's defensive stance. "Trix, hun - - - are you alright?"

Slowly, deliberately, Trixie lowered her raised fist, choking back a fit of laughter. "Jesus, fuck, Blair. You scared the living daylights out of me."

Blair carefully laid the takeaway bag onto the dining room table. "I was singing as I came in. How did you not hear that?"

Trixie audibly groaned. "Show tunes?"

Blair grinned, all teeth. "What else?"

"What did you bring me?" Trixie asked, trotting excitedly over to the dining room table towards the source of the delicious smell.

"Sweet and sour tofu," he shrugged, heading for the kitchen to retrieve some cutlery. "I figured you could use some cheering up."

Trixie could've kissed him right there and then. "You are the best housemate ever."

"I know!" Blair sing-songed in response from the kitchen, the tell-tale sound of clattering telling Trixie he was picking out plates. Trixie thought for a moment.

"Wanna watch Chicago?" she called out, already knowing the answer.

Blair's boyish face appeared in the doorway at once, his cheeks flushed red and his bright blue eyes wide. "Of fucking course! "

Trixie chuckled. Blair was the pinnacle of the gay stereotype, she thought, listening to her friend hum along to an 80's power ballad she had forgotten the name of.

Trixie was in such high spirits that she almost forgot the back-and-forth she was having on Brenda, and the reason for it. That was, until part-way through the film, and a mouthful of crispy tofu, her phone buzzed angrily against the countertop.

Both Blair and Trixie startled, and Blair's carton of seaweed went flying across the room, littering the hardwood floor with tiny, crispy sprigs.

"Fuck sake!" Blair exclaimed, throwing his hands up and staring with dismay at the mess.

Trixie shot him an apologetic glance, before throwing herself at the vibrating phone.

Pearl.

"H-hey, baby!" Trixie babbled into the mouthpiece, clutching the phone as if it were a precious gemstone. Blair rolled his eyes to the heavens with great exaggeration, and Trixie promptly gave him the finger.

"Hey," Pearl's voice, deep and soft and laced with sleepiness, was like music to Trixie's ears. The mounting unread messages from Brenda now evaporated into nothingness.

"How are you doing, I---" Trixie stumbled around the coffee table in her haste to reach her bedroom, the spilled seawood crunching beneath her bare feet. Mouthing another "I'm sorry" at Blair, Trixie managed to reach her bedroom, and collapsed onto her bed, clinging the phone to her ear with desperation. A smile crept against her dainty lips. "How are you?"

"Tired," Pearl muttered, though Trixie could hear the smile in her voice. Trixie's heart fluttered.

"All done in the studio?"

"Just about," Pearl mumbled boredly. Trixie's heart sank at the pause that followed; hollow and vast.

"Listen," Pearl's voice was slightly muffled, and Trixie knew immediately that she was rolling a cigarette between her perfect teeth. "I got your message, and I appreciate the offer, but I'm doing overtime at the bar. There'd be no point in you coming down this weekend. By the time I get back home, it's late, and then I'm back in at 10 in the morning."

Trixie nodded somberly, feeling utterly stupid for allowing herself to feel a flicker of hope that she might see Pearl this week. Or this month.

"Trixie? You there?"

"O-oh! Y-yes, I'm here…"

"Oh, come on, Blondie," Pearl's words were blown out in exasperation, and Trixie could visualise the tendrils of smoke rising from her nostrils like a dragon as she smoked. Trixie wasn't sure why Pearl had christened her with the nickname "blondie", when she herself was also a pale, silver-blonde. "Don't give me that sad, sad voice. You know I have to work."

Trixie could feel pricks of upset choking up her throat at the bemused tone from her girlfriend. She shook herself slightly, forcing a shaky smile despite it not being visable. "No, no, of course. I get it, it's fine. What about a call? A video chat?"

Pearl hummed against the cigarette in her mouth, and Trixie knew at once that she was to be further let down. "Probably not, babe. I'll be tired. I have music to make."

Trixie nodded again against the handset. At least, she thought with a tiny glup, at least Pearl had called tonight.

"Well---" Pearl blew out smoke again, and Trixie swore she could taste it. "I need to go… love ya."

The call went dead in her hands, but Trixie still cradled the phone to her ear, as if in doing so would bring Pearl's voice back. She thought bitterly about how they used to spend hours on that very phone, talking about everything and nothing at all. Trixie continued to listen to the tone of the terminated call, and she couldn't help but think it sounded like a flatlining heart.

#rpdr fanfiction #trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #pearl liaison #blair st clair #slow burn #fluff #angst #pining #friends to lovers #cheating #eventual smut #something just like this #calliope #tw mention of under-eating/over-exercising

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jackednephi · 5 years

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Hello! Apologies for sending in an ask so late. I just wanted to reach out because I'm not in such a great place right now. I was wondering, if you found out about your being queer at a fairly young age, how you managed to stay in the closet?? (And, you know, remaining alright, mentally) my parents are extremely homophobic, and it's tearing me apart, especially because I really care about them. Any advice would be great, even if it's not much. Best of luck in everything, and thank you so much ♥️

so tumblr doesn’t always let me know when i have messages >(

that said, i’ll do my best to respond but like it’s going to be long and convoluted so imma include a cut to save dash space. PLEASE KEEP IN MIND i am polyamorous, agender/trans, pansexual, and demiromantic. so like there are various facets of my queerness and they all played into my life differently

feel free to skip close to the end for like “how to stealth” if you don’t have the spoons for like a 20 page autobiography with annotated bibliography

so finding out about being queer is a question that has both a yes and a no answer. it’s more like i was experiencing queerness but didn’t have words for it, then repressed it, then dealt with it. so it’s less “i knew ever since i could form words to describe it” and more my journey was in no way linear

see when i was little, like really little yknow when you start getting your first crushes right around prek and stuff, i had all kinds of crushes. i had crushes on multiple people at once and this has continued straight into adulthood. so, like, sign one of being poly. my friends would have one person they would hardcore crush on whereas i was crushing on people around me, characters in fiction, just like so many people. i remember listing crushes in my journals every now and then and i’d have lists of upwards and over like 20. :/ so i am in no way surprised i’m poly

so far as my sexuality, i didn’t realize i was feeling for certain female friends what i was feeling for boys. partly because i’d be like “oh i want to hold his hand” and because i saw m/f couples holding hands all the time i was like ah! yes! obviously romantic! but i never saw any f/f relationships so i didn’t make the connection that the hand holding wasn’t a friend feeling. i had INTENSE crushes on girls too, just as intense as on boys. but i was used to the media portraying rival nonsense like hannah montana and whatnot so i was like “oh. this is my situation”

there was also a lot of repressing going on because i just didn’t see that reflected around me from media to adults. all i saw were m/f relationships. i knew gay people existed but i thought they were all gay men. when i was somewhere around like 10 or so, give or take, i realized i was crushing on my best friend at the time (a girl) and was like “no. absolutely not” shoved that as far back as possible and ignored it

my demiromanticism is more born of trauma than me being born that way and that’s ok. one of my close friends found out about one of my crushes in the second grade and i was RELENTLESSLY bullied for it. every time i got a crush on somebody, i would end up HARDCORE bullied or they would get weird and things would be awful. i also had boys shove their crushes onto me and not take no for an answer. like i’d have my bra snapped painfully, bugs shoved down my shirt, my stuff vandalized, hair pulled just because i wasn’t interested

like when i was 12, somebody started a rumor that i was pregnant :/ and that’s not even covering my abusive ex or the sexual assaults so like everything kind of came together for that

then there’s my gender. which is its own bucket of worms and kind of played in with my sexuality in certain ways

my parents are boomers, born in 50 and 58. “but vann,” you say, confused “you were born at the end of 94″ and you are correct! i inherited pcos from my mother so i’ll let you put 2 and 3 together as to why i was born in 94 and my brother in 96. i say that because, unlike their peers, they raised my brothers and i radically different from the accepted cultural norms

if i wanted to wear baggy shorts, that was cool. pretty dresses? whatever. same (kind of) went for my brothers. if they wanted to spend a lot of time on their appearance, that was fine and not shamed at all. in fact, it was encouraged because it made them feel good. i played with army men, barbie dolls, cars, a train set, tools, swords, sports stuff, had tea parties with stuffed animals, drew and crafted, etc etc. my younger brother played house with me (and often suggested it himself) and would play with my baby dolls. like had my younger brother wanted a doll, they would’ve gotten it for him. but i had them so he didn’t bother asking for one cause he could borrow mine

so like there was no gender segregation of toys or activities. and that sounds kind of like the bare minimum of parenting but you have to remember that both of my parents grew up in the rural south as boomers. gender roles were violently enforced for them. but they didn’t think about enforcing them for us so far as play and, to a certain extent, dress/grooming was concerned. this created a safe environment for us to be our true selves

so for a very long time, i was comfy saying i was a girl. i played basketball after school and then afterwards would find my prettiest dress and watch scooby doo. gender expression was fast and loose in my house

i contribute that a lot to the fact that my father was too disabled to work. even before then, he had been a nurse and a damn good one. my father has ALWAYS been the go to for when we were sick, injured, etc. my mother had this disconnect with how much concern to show. it was either too much or not enough and was pretty much never helpful. even after retiring, when my nephews came around he was the go to caretaker for them. even now at 70, he frequently goes back to where the children are during family gatherings and keeps watch. much like a mother hen

so he stayed home and did the cleaning and other “wifely” duties. not cooking though because his brain just cannot. my mother worked as a high school teacher so typical roles were entirely reversed. when i was tiny and wanted nothing more than to be a parent? you go, sweetie! when i was older and wanted to be a scientist? achieve your dreams, kiddo! like they were very supportive of my goals no matter what they were

so i just??? didn’t realize????? until i hit puberty somewhere around 9

talk about body dysphoria. i went from looking like my brother and every other kid my age to wow ok there’s hair now??? and my face is all weird???? and oh no why does my tummy feel funny?????????? (sexual arousal was a TRIP to discover as a third grader that i would not wish on any child ever) oh my god WHAT IS ON MY CHEST!? and grown men are hitting on me now??? oh no i’m in fourth grade and bleeding!?

it was not a fun time by a long shot. i started wearing the baggiest tshirts i could possibly find. anything to hide my freakish body, really. so many hoodies. i would swing wildly between hyper feminine expression with tight clothes and heels and hiding everything as much as possible. part of me was smug about being ahead of my peers, for adults to be treating me as more than a kid. but a LOT of me felt like a freak

maturing (mentally) into an adult was a wild experience. i was 13 and looked like i was 21 except for my face. i did everything possible to find comfort with myself from goth/emo expression ro masculine stuff people threw “dyke” at me for and then finally, weaponized femininity. tight tops, tight pants, shortest skirts i could get away with, eyeliner so sharp it could cut god, heels as often as i could including uniform days, perfect hair. i made myself look like a hot, unapproachable goddess

finally, people were too intimidated to approach me and comment on my appearance. i wore makeup like a mask and people who had known me for YEARS were surprised to find out just how big my chest really was. but i walked with murder in my eyes and i was finally treated the same was i was before puberty - completely unapproachable

ALL THAT IN MIND, here’s how i figured my shit out

i was on facebook seeing “gay, straight, black or white, marriage is a civil right” and being typically “it’s a sacred ordinance shyaddap” about it. i ended up on tumblr about idk 15 or so? note, i’d already discovered porn by this time so i was aware that lesbians existed. like just to throw that out there that i wasn’t like totally in the dark when i made my tumblr account. i did it for school to blog about shakespeare for an english assignment. and that’s when my world expanded

bisexual? wow ok! that was a thing! and oh. oh no

there were pretty girls

and pretty boys and pretty people whose gender i had no idea. cosplayers cosplaying as the opposite gender, trans people, and a whole rainbow of people i was suddenly finding attractive. and i had a HARDCORE identity crisis

i liked girls? but was it the same as boys? was i bisexual? that didn’t seem to fit. there was more than two genders right? and trans people existed? bi? was i bi? bi?

bi. probably

but it didn’t feel comfortable like at all. but i discovered a fanfic writer who talked about being pansexual and i looked it up and everything just clicked?? into place????

not to be overdramatic or anything but it was like the stars finally aligned. it felt SO good! so many genders! and it meant all and aliens are a thing, right? who was i to say no to the possibility? but, more than anything, it felt comfortable. like a hug from my grandma. like home

i wanted to scream from the rooftops that i’d figured it out! i found myself! pansexual! I WAS PANSEXUAL! THAT WAS ME! HOME!

and then the reality of living in our society crashed down on me. i continued to talk about the guys i liked around my family but never EVER the girls. i hid my relationship with the person who eventually became my wife. to be fair, i’d hidden all my relationships prior cause i was an IDIOT and had been dating before 16. so that wasn’t hard. but what was was the breakup

previously, i’d been like “you remember that guy i like? he’s a jerk” or some other excuse to cry to my mother. but i couldn’t about cake. so i cried to my bff/twin/sister like i had everything else and moved on. and i just kind of shut up about it to everybody except those closest to me

except that hurt. here i was knowing i was queer and happy about it but people were being homophobic. i don’t know how often i cried myself to sleep after hearing about “those dirty f*gs” cause of the marriage thing. i ended up quietly coming out to my favorite teacher and she dismissed it as trauma response to my then recent sexual assault. she had seemed safe but that was her reaction so i shut up about it

up until, ironically, coming out day october 2011 just before turning 17 that next month. my mother and i were at chilis, she was being homophobic, and i screamed for the whole restaurant to hear that i was queer and the whole base found out. hard to stay closeted after that

i was pretty much out until college when i started going to church in a new place. i just didn’t talk about my sexuality. ever. period. and it was “easy” because i was dating guys. and pretty sure i was a cis woman. so i was stealth passing. and that was ok with me because i was out on campus, vocally and unapologetically

in high school, i dated a trans guy. he introduced me like in a personal way to transness, to binding. i knew i wasn’t a man but it intrigued me. and in college where nobody knew me, nobody knew me as femme fatale black widow i had a chance to explore my gender. i discovered that loose tshirts made me feel really good. as did other comfy things like shorts and sweats. sometimes i wanted to look fancy or felt like wearing a dress. really, i kind of reverted back to who i was in childhood

i felt weird when i heard my birth name. i’d gone by a nickname for so long, i just chopped off the y (vanny) to vann so it sounded more adult. it felt good. so i identified, tentatively, as nonbinary. it was around this time the trans dude i dated and i fell out with each other because he thought me playing around with my gender was like mocking his transness. or something. idk dude was toxic trash

so i wasn’t male or female then? nah that didn’t feel right. i wasn’t some third androgynous gender. but sometimes binding and passing as a man felt good and sometimes passing as a woman felt good. genderfluid then? was i a man who liked to wear dresses? no. didn’t feel right. made me uncomfortable

eventually, things clicked for me with agender the way they had with pansexual the fall of my third year of undergrad. stars aligned, the universe smiled upon me, and i was THRILLED. like gender euphoria is REAL and never before had i felt so comfortable in my own skin. i remember literally weeping with joy. like i’d been going with they/them/their for a couple years at that point

i came out to my parents about that one pretty shortly after realizing it because i was OVERJOYED. they’d been working on calling me vann for awhile at that point and the pronouns. i’ve since learned that so long as soebody has my name, 90% of the time i legit do not care what pronouns somebody uses. im aware that people perceive me differently and it’s fine. i mean neutral pronouns fill me with euphoria but like it’s fine. so long as somebody doesn’t mistake me for cis

my parents are like so great about it now. they correct people who deadname me (except my grandma cause she’s like 85 and i gave her permission years ago) and my mother straight cut contact with family members who refuse to respect me. except my brothers but like she makes it clear whenever they’re going to be awful that she WILL NOT tolerate it. like they don’t dare trash me in front of our father. he’s old now but he will backhand one of my brothers for that and they know it. so they try it with our mom and she’s like “try it again and you won’t hear from me until you apologize for trashing your sister”

i realized i was poly when cake came back into my life. that was a serious mess involving their abusive ex girlfriend but we clicked and it ended up working so yknow. that was my easiest coming out actually. my parents were like “yknow, you always seemed to love people when you were a kid. and you had SO many crushes. makes sense” which was awesome. it was the most difficult emotionally but the easiest because i’d already come out twice before so it was whatever

the demi thing was discovered in therapy. and like it doesn’t have much in the way of impact like the other things do. so i never really came out about that? there wasn’t really a point? like i talk about it when it comes up but it’s just whatever. i honestly have no idea if i ever told my family?????

WITH THAT NONSENSE IN MIND, HERE’S HOW TO STEALTH AND BE OK MENTALLY

you said homophobic so im gonna assume you’re not straight. no idea about gender and, honestly, so far as gender goes i’ve seen it’s safer to lean into masculinity than it is femininity. so if you’re amab, i don’t really have tips or tricks for that as i’m afab. with being afab, lean into the tomboy aesthetic so you seem acceptably (safely) your assigned gender. i recommend fun lipstick and nail polish colors. sparkly nails did wonders for me honestly

but for like not straightness. that’s a tightrope that is but a gossamer thread to balance. like there are ways to stealth gender expression and feel affirmed but queerness is a different animal or it was for me

so i had AT LEAST one space in my life where i was 100%, unapologetically, loudly out. like i’m here, i’m queer and flying my rainbow flag and not at all sorry about it OUT. for awhile, it was just my very closest friends in the whole world. then it was tumblr. then i made a facebook for people irl i could trust. 0 family and 0 people who couldn’t be chill about it

like having a carved space for you to just be the authentic you, whatever that is. for me, that’s all this queer mess, the polycule that is my family, my faith, my absolutely foul mouth, my mental illnesses, my love of good coffee or a glass of wine every now and then as a rare treat, the good and the bad the ugly and the uncategorizable all together. the struggle with the word of wisdom AND the love of my spouses. all of that

it’s affirming to have this space where you’re yourself and people accept you for who you are rather than what gets your engine revving. but you’ve also got to try and stealth that into wherever you can. you want a dyke spike? go for it and say it’s a pixie cut. plaids are in right now which is a lowkey signal to other queers you’re a queer too no matter your gender. just depends on what shoe you pair it with and other queers will take notice while non queers will just think you’re trendy

it was also fun for me to get that pan flag aesthetic wherever i could. like blue/pink galaxy type eyeshadow that wasn’t too peacock flashy so it looked Hot without being Obvious and a pink lipstick and yellow nails. like it was subtle but i knew what was going on and it felt good. i did the same with rainbows but i had more to work with there. like i’d have an inconspicuous notebook where i’d paint/paste a rainbow on the inside cover so that it was Normal from the outside and BAM! GAY! on the inside. did that with highlighting my notes too

i just kind of stuck it everywhere i could possibly get away with. people were excited to see me go from emo to bring colors becuase “oh wow! you’re finally not sad!” lol no i’m just stealth queer over here

i also wrote SO MUCH queer fanfiction. i didn’t publish any of it just in case but i have notebooks full of stuff. i also rped with people as a way to live vicariously through characters. i also READ a lot of queer fanfiction actually. i saved all kinds of fanart and photo manipulations of certain pairings together. like i couldn’t be out so i could have fiction where others were

i also poured myself into hobbies. i fenced, did karate, learned japanese, participated in drama club, played in a band, took piano lessons, taught myself to draw, journaled, learned to cook, read amazing books, played video games, learned to sing. like i’m sure there are other things i’m forgetting? basically, if it was EVER covered in a young women’s activity pretty much anywhere in the world, i learned at least those basic skills. like i can embroider now even

so like that’s how i stealthed and stayed sane. i was also in therapy where i was out to whatever therapist i was seeing at the time which ABSOLUTELY helped. i also made like queer playlists i would listen to. like same love, i kissed a girl, born this way, etc that i would listen to when i needed to just sink into it. music in general is super cathartic and i’ve gotta say green day, acdc, evanescence, bon jovi, etc got me through some tough shit

i also yelled at god. i yelled at god a LOT actually. like i know we get told “pray for comfort” but sometimes you need to bawl your eyes out and just SCREAM at the almighty. dude can take it. he’s god after all. he can handle our anger. it isn’t disrespectful. like if you ever do cross a line, he’ll let you know. like your thoughts will hard stop. you’ll know

but empty your lungs screaming in pain. let him know it isn’t fair, you’re not happy. beg for relief from the nightmares you’re living. demand to know if or when it’ll ever get better. burn yourself out yelling and crying and fall asleep drenched in tears. then wake up the next day and live your life and you know what?

you’ll feel better. maybe not a lot sometimes and maybe everything is cool for once in forever. but it definitely helped me a lot. like dude listens and you WILL feel better even if the things around you dont get better. you get some strength to get through and be ok and it’s super helpful

but that’s what i got. also bear in mind that i came out to thousands of people by yelling at my mother in a restaurant when all the ships were in because everybody in said restaurant texted everybody they knew and my texts were flooded in like an hour of “DON’T TELL ME YOU CAME OUT TO YOUR MOM LIKE THAT OMG” and “you’re queer!?” so like

i’m not the best when it comes to stealth queering so take my advice with a grain of salt

#long post #like reeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllyyyyyyyyyy long post #i cannot overemphasize how long this post is #advice #i tried :/#Anonymous #anon #vannswers

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brunettefromwallstreet · 7 years

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Dressed in a beautiful pink cocktail dress, slowly sipping a glass of rose and eating a cotton candy while sitting on a pink blanket by the pink sandals. Sounds familiar? I bet you remember that girl with a glass of pink cocktail in her hand every day after work. And no I’m not talking about me this time. Well not entirely.

I confess I have always worshipped Barbie. Surely, you can’t blame me; I’m a 90s kid after all. And back then, in the 90s, Barbie was our idol. Well, she still is for me. An independent woman who has it all. A closet full of beautiful pink dresses, shoes and designer bags, a perfect career, a house with an elevator and an apartment on Saint Germain, a cute little pet and a Ken, who is always there for her to help out with all the bags and luggage. And as this wasn’t enough she drives her own pink 911.

SIPPING A PINK COCKTAIL IN A PINK COCKTAIL DRESS

I guess that dream of having a life like a Barbie never vanished from my mind. In fact, as a little girl, I dreamt of being a Barbie when I grow up. Moreover, I visualised myself like a Barbie. The one with brown hair, just to be clear. And no, not because of her body and beauty. As a matter of fact, I always thought her boobs are too big, and her face isn’t pretty at all. I just wanted to be a girl boss who drives a pink 911 and wears a pencil skirt, heels and a briefcase during a week and sips champagne or a pink cocktail on a pink gingham picnic blanket for the weekends. While dressed in a stylish pink cocktail dress and pink sandals, of course.

HOW I BECAME THAT BARBIE IN A PINK COCKTAIL DRESS

Ha, while taking photos of the pink cocktail dress on the street the other day, I realised (after my mother told me she heard men saying comments like: “Look there is a Barbie in the town,” when she was taking photos of me) my dreams came true. I actually turned out to be just like the Barbie with brown hair and dressed in a pink cocktail dress, I pictured in my head back then when I was six. Minus the 911, my own house and a Ken, of course (but only for now). And with a much prettier face (hopefully forever).

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HOW TO WEAR HEAD-TO-TOE PINK OUTFIT IF YOU ARE NOT A LITTLE GIRL

Seems like I can’t advise you how not to look like a Barbie when wearing a pink outfit, but I can surely tell you what to do to look like a girl boss and not a little pink with a cotton candy in her hand. You know, there can be only one pink thing in your hand, and that one should come in the glass. Whatsoever, here are my 5 tips on how to pull off an entirely pink outfit.

1# WEAR TAILORED CLOTHES

Go for a tailored pink cocktail dress as I did this Wednesday, or put on some pink suit. Best with either a double-breasted blazer or in a loose-fit.

2# MIND THE PINK SHADE

Although all the shades of pink are fashionable right now, not every shade suits every girl boss. Surely the safest bets are the rose gold and pale pink, or Millennium pink.

3# AVOID RUFFLES AND GO FOR PLEATS INSTEAD

I know doesn’t make much of a fashion sense as ruffles are the number one summer trend. Still, when wearing pink, you better go for a plisse instead of the big ruffles.

4# ADD ACCESSORIES WITH AN EDGE AND CLEAN LINES

In short, simple and sharp. Wear boxed shaped bags and sunglasses with a thin frame.

5# HAIR ON POINT

Wear your hair slicked back or in a slicked ponytail. Remember, you want to have that edgy hairstyle to sharp the girly pink outfit you are wearing.

SHOP AND WEAR MY STYLE

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Pin or print the EDIT to have it close the next time you hear the pink mantra in your head.

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Finally all about my cotton candy pink Barbie look. Starting with the star of this look, the pink cocktail dress. I bought this dress three years ago, somewhere in North America. Don’t ask me where exactly, because I don’t remember. I guess I was carrying too much and way too often pink in my hand. And I don’t mean a pink bag nor a cotton candy.

Anyway, this pink cocktail dress comes from Juicy Couture. Yes, the same Juicy Couture that makes the pink velour tracks everyone from Paris to Kim and who knows who was wearing years ago.

While pink being the colour of the season, it shouldn’t be too hard for you to find your favourite pink dress. In fact, I already found a bunch of them for you. Make sure you scroll up and check them in the galleries above. Ps. Find the dress that looks almost like the dress over here.

ROSE GOLD AND RAFFIA

As said many times before, I didn’t go for one colour and wear it on its own this time. Rather than this, I finished my look with my stunning rose gold sandals from Stuart Weitzman (you saw me wearing those sandals once before with the striped ruffled shirt dress over here), that you can shop ON SALE over here. And with the raffia basket bag from Nannacay, you can get over here only with the pompoms in a different colour. No matter the colour of the pom poms I can assure you, you will love this cute little bag. Yes, I have been wearing this bag quite often lately. In case you missed, I also wore it with the white suit over here.

CANDY RUSH OR MAKE ME BLUSH

What’s your favourite shade of pink? The mix between a pink cocktail and a cotton candy like the one I’m wearing this time an innocent blush pink, pale pink or the rose gold? I’m so curious. Let me know in the comments below.

I can’t decide what’s my favourite shade of pink. I love all the pink hues. And wear them too. Anyway, be sure to follow my Instagram and Facebook to see how I wear the candy rush pink cocktail dress next Wednesday and come back to find more tips on how to wear beautiful pink outfits this summer. Also, don’t forget to browse through the galleries above to find all of my favourite pink dresses that are on my Chic wish list this summer. Remember, pink is not just a colour, it’s an attitude, and you need to show it with a style and elegance. And all the feminism aside, you shouldn’t be ashamed if you still belive in Barbie.

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Pink Cocktail and 911, Please Dressed in a beautiful pink cocktail dress, slowly sipping a glass of rose and eating a cotton candy while sitting on a pink blanket by the pink sandals.

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