06/13/21: write an entry centering around a gender fluid character
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Boys in corsets: a thought that is almost always on my mind. Girls in corsets: a rival thought that is almost always fighting for attention. Corsets in general: a thought that occupies too much of my brain at any given time. I'm a big fan of corsets. Which is why I love this place.
It's full of dark blue lights and alcohol, laughing people clustered around tables where they waste their money and spend their time. Lovers draped across rustic turquoise chaises, honey dripping from waterfalls and chandeliers made specifically for the purpose of decorative beauty. It's all very impractical. Much like corsets. The red ones and black ones, buttoned ones and cinched, the ones worn over silk shirts and under dresses. They're all here. I adore them.
My own corset is a pale indigo and it's paired with a white tennis skirt. Not much in comparison to the extravagant displays that some people manage to concoct, but it serves its purpose.
The object of the majority of my attention is half-standing half-leaning against a barstool by the bar, sipping from a tiny glass of whiskey. I've spent weeks coming here, working up the nerve to approach, and I'm not backing down today. Usually the individual is spoken to by four people in one night. Currently, only three have dared attempt conversation. I am determined to be the fourth.
Their corset is black, laced up over a blue silk shirt. This is accompanied by a pair of neat black pants and shiny leather shoes. Dark eyes are lined dramatically, like most of the eyes in this institution, and black nail polish can be seen glinting in the light.
"Hello," I say, gathering the nerve to sit down on the barstool beside this enigmatic person. They merely nod in reply. "I'm Emma. She/her," I add as an afterthought.
"I'm Andromeda, but you can call me Ann or Drom or Andy or whatever. Any pronouns are fine, though I suppose I'd favor he/him tonight."
"Nice," I say awkwardly. "Do you come to this place a lot?"
An amused smile twists across his face. "I've seen you here for a few weeks. I think you know the answer to that."
My cheeks pink slightly. "Oh."
"Yes," Andromeda says. "Oh."
"Do you think we might get a coffee right now?" I suggest, hopeful.
Andromeda studies me. "Sure," he says at last. "Okay."
"Let's go then," I say. I follow him out of the bar and into the night.
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short, bc i'm lazy and have no inspiration :3
also cORSETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love them. damn.
and if i got genderfluid stuff horribly wrong, pls lmk !!
YOU ARE READING
idyll ✓
Teen Fiction❛one doesn't simply break a pinky swear in order to get in someone's pants on time❜ -- here lies a collection of thirty very queer one-shots (for the pride writing challenge by @DauntlessShadowIce1)
