One of the many awkward things about being chickenshit and not socially transitioning as a teen is that unlike cis girls, you don’t have a wardrobe that you slowly build up over the years. You don’t get awkward teen phases where you experiment and fuck around. You wear a uniform of t-shirts and pants of various leg lengths and that’s it. Sure, you can try to experiment too, be an emo kid with eyeliner, sorry, “guyliner”, that masculinity no matter how fragile must be kept whole, or try and spec into suits. Maybe go for sports wear. But whatever happens, you cannot show genuine care for fashion. Because if you do show any care outside of bespoke suits, everyone will know that you’d like to swap your skinny jeans for a skirt and your hoodie for a crop top over a mesh shirt. Well, no, everyone will assume you’ll want to dress up like 80’s Ken. Faggots have Fairy as an alternate slur for us, not Ghoul or Vampire.
This whole tangent brought to you by having to make up for nine years worth of clothing build up in a day with a budget so limited game companies are taking note for developer salaries. I wasn’t even sure why Violet had dragged me along. “You realize I can’t afford anything, right?” I ask, standing in front of the mall at the edge of town. The architecture felt distinctly seventies, a perfect set for a zombie movie.
“My sweet kitten, I might not fucking look or sound like it but my family is LOADED. I’m as old money as money itself. Fuck, I’m old livestock even!” Violet, hand on her heart, does not seem to realize the self own she has just performed.
“You don’t have the udders to be an old cow.” I shoot back, smirking, earning myself a quick snort from Liz.
“And that’s on purpose, you’ve seen the kind of magic I can pull off in the bedroom.” Violet retorts, hand on her hip, gesturing towards her privates. Liz takes it in the only way she can, almost blushing. It feels great to see her real self, not the mask she put on for the sorority in the brief glimpses I had of her. “If you didn’t fucking connect the dots from me saying I’m taking care of you, well, I’m fucking covering this shit, alright?” Violet gestures at the mall. “You’ve got like, what, three exact copies of this ‘fit?”
“...Four.” I admit. Four pairs of jeans, four hoodies, and a number of t-shirts to wear underneath I alternate daily. The rest is weekly.
Violet hisses. “Somebody get ol Billy Shakespeare outta his grave, you’ve just topped the only thing in life you’ll ever get to top and it’s his tragedies, kitten.”
“Aren’t literary references a bit out of your ballpark?” I sigh. “Are we going to fling shit at each other all day, or will you drag me inside and enjoy me panicking quietly?” Rubbing my eyes helps nail the tone home, and with a shrug Violet grabs my hand and pulls me in, Liz in pursuit.
I’ve already talked about the kind of panic attack you get when you’re in girl mode while closeted and home alone and someone seems to be coming back. That panic is nothing like the paralyzing anxiety of being somewhere where it seems you shouldn’t be.
Even with Liz and Violet with me the anxiety didn’t lessen. At any moment someone can decide to call me out for being in the wrong section, for being a creep, and then I’ll have to leave and never come back.
Violet shoves folded up clothes into my hand, breaking me from my defensive dissociation. “Alright, you go over there to the changing rooms while me and Goldilocks here snoop around for more looks.” She jabs me in the chest through the bundle of fabric I now hold. “And do not take it off until I see you in it.”
Well now I have to get it, considering I’m getting nervous hand sweat all over it. My eyes do not linger on any point for more than a second as I walk to the changing rooms, clothes in hand. I breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of an attendant and walk in, closing the door behind me, hanging the clothes on the door and collapsing onto the stool. I do not know if I prefer the apathy of buying the masculine disguises or the anxiety of getting stuff I actually want.
With the former it’s a quick mad dash to grab something bland in my size, buy it and walk out, without even having to try it on. Male fashion might be bland and boring but, in a fucked up way, it’s accessible. If you’re L in one brand due to your height, you’re L in other ones too. With women’s fashion? Not even my magic tome could help you there.
Well okay it’s got Shiaty-Spraavuh for fixes and when used while wearing them it tailors them to you, but that still means getting some that fit just enough for the spell to tailor them down.
I finally take in the clothing Violet chose for me and sigh, holding my forehead. With shaky breaths I undress, letting my hair loose in the process, and put the dress on. I don’t know why she picked such a long flowing open-back dress for me with an asymmetrical skirt that’s knee length in the front and goes down to my ankles in the back, nevermind the long loose sleeves.
I’m not sure the evil sorceress look quite works for me. Maybe I’m just missing the claws and makeup and appropriate footwear to nail the look home.
There’s a knock on the door and I’m back in my apartment and Moss is saying hello for the first time. “Get your ass out here, kitten, I want to see how it looks in that.” Violet’s voice brings me down to Earth.
“Is anyone else out there?” I have to ask, if some stranger saw me their response could very well cost me my life.
“Just me and Goldilocks, and you know we’re both chill.” One of you in more ways than one. With a few more calming breaths, I open the door, but don’t step out, turning slowly so Violet and Liz can get a good look. “I fucking knew you’d rock this one. Hell, I might just get it for you to rip it off when we’re alone at your place.” Her smile looks too sincere. “Okay, try on the rest and then we’re off, you don’t gotta show them off either, not that I’d mind if you did.” She hands me the stack she’s holding and closes the door for me.
We end up spending the afternoon like that at the mall, going from store to store, Violet throwing around money nobody would guess she has from her vocabulary. By the time the sun starts setting, Liz has departed to her own room. I ask her to come over anytime she wants and give her directions.
When me and Violet reach my apartment again and we drop off all the shopping bags in my bedroom, I completely deflate, spreading on the bed. “Today was the best and worst remake of Weekend at Bernie’s I’ve ever experienced.”
“The ‘faking a corpse is alive’ movie?” Violet asks, monopolizing my desk chair. “I mean I know neither of us can keep straight faces, it comes with the territory, but even then I’m shocked, shocked I fucking tell you, that we managed.”
“It’s easy to forget you’ve experienced someone dying first hand when they’re right next to you.” It takes a second for my brain to catch up with what I’ve just said. I’m thankful it’s impossible for the human throat to produce screaming at the volume your mind can reach. I look at Violet and hope she doesn’t connect the dots.
“How first hand are we talking here?” Fuck. “Cause I distinctly remember you mentioning you possessed Liz the night she committed suicide.”
“It wasn’t suicide.” I need to get this out, I need to let it loose into the world, and Violet works as a hole for me to yell the secret into. Well mainly an asshole and at times a cunt, but when you need to scream a secret out anything works. And if somebody plays her like an instrument the whole realm won’t hear her saying it.
“Come again?!” Violet’s confused expression makes me worried for the ceiling, with how high her eyebrows shoot up. “The fuck do you mean it wasn’t suicide?”
“Tau Eta Epsilon staged it as a hazing. They locked her in a room while she sat in an ice bath and threw in the key, so it looked like she locked herself in.” And right as you get it there, Sisyphus, the heavy boulder rolls off my heart and down the hill for you to try again. “But it’s my word against theirs.”
“Okay, know what?” Violet gets up and pulls me off the bed. “Fuck that. I do not have the capacity to even begin to process any of that shit.” She throws off my beanie and lets my hair loose before I even register that it’s happening. “There’s a fucking flamewar on the college forums about what junk I sport, and this shit is still too much for me. So tell you what.” She holds my arms. “You change out of this shit, show your cute ass off in all those lovely outfits your sugar momma treated you to, and then I make you nut like a girl. Deal?”
I gulp. I haven’t gotten a chance to get fucked yet. It was literally my first time with Liz and I ruined it on purpose. I could only begin to imagine how Violet would leave me. I unzip my hoodie, throw my shirt off and pull down my jeans within seconds.
“Deal.”
I love the way this is written… it’s so thick with personality and humanness. It’s almost naturalist, I’d say.
Violet's such a shit, I love her.
I don't know about the Czech story, but there's also a myth related to King Midas.
https://greece.mrdonn.org/greekgods/kingmidas2.html
Thanks for the chapter :)