#this came to me in a fit of queer mania | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

calicoquiltedtranshag · 2 years

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A bit of personal history,

Hi hi - let's get some trigger warnings out there because this shit sucks. There's....a lot. You might wanna skip this if hearing about stuff like grooming, complete mental breakdowns and kinda bojack horseman levels of fucking up. Also maybe Schizophrenia I'm really not sure what this is all about.

With that in mind, let's go. Here's the shit that's fucking up my brain right now.

My college experience started out rocky. And...with who I am now, I think there's a lot of points I really fucked up - but I always had good intentions.

That, of course, means nothing. At the very least it's just what I tell myself when I'm feeling particularly crappy about everything; I never wanted to hurt anyone - but I did end up doing that. It's not an excuse - just an explanation. Digressions aside.

I entered college with my highschool friends and partner going to a different school than I did. We, at the time, weren't really...an accepting group. We were rough and tumble, just kind of exploring ourselves and our identities, and very confidant that we knew what we were doing. I had been dealing with voices and questioning my gender, but I had a role to play - so I played it. I thought I had to be the boyfriend - and the ideal man - because it never fit right and it sucked to meet "other men" and realize that I felt alone. Digressions again.

I made some friends in the first year - and had a roommate as well. A roommate that also had voices. I'd list this as my first mistake.

He was a really, really sweet guy. Frankly I think if I met him now I'd think he was really cool. At the time though, he represented everything I'd been taught to fear and hide about myself. Someone who was open about their queerness, their flaws and their struggles...that was scary. Wrong.

When he came back one night after going on a bit of a manic wander through the city... I didn't check to see if he was okay. I turned against him. He had said he had gone knife fighting for money - to try and feed the homeless around the city - and I've realized now that...those kinds of actions don't warrant isolation and fear. You shouldn't...leave people in that situation - where you're going out to do something crazy and endangering to help someone. You do that because you're trying to help people and you're struggling with your own shit. I agreed with others when they said he was crazy - he had fit what my family and friends would have called crazy at the time. That he was the kind of person to avoid - but it was hypocritical. If he was crazy, then I was crazy too.

He left the school and moved out of the state. I blame myself for that because I was his roommate - and I moved out of the room after the knife incident. I know now I made him feel afraid of himself and I didn't console him. I didn't comfort him in what must have been a fucking terrifying time. I had written this victim narrative - "of course I get stuck with a lunatic the first year of school" when I was hearing whispers and having bouts of mania myself.

I think that sets the theme for a lot of actions to follow.

Another digression - I think whenever you do something like that, your gut will tell you if it's wrong. Listen to your gut. in so many of these situations, I didn't. I did what I thought I was supposed to do, and it...hurt a lot of people.

During this event, my partner met a man at their school. We were 18 and 19 respectively.

He was 29.

He tried really hard to ingratiate himself with us. He played the same MMO i did, and loved the games my partner played - and he...enabled them. My partner was someone whose pride was...overwhelming at times. They could sit above the standards they held for others, and often it'd be a struggle to get them to realize what they were doing. They also had good intentions - but it was what it was.

This man assured them that their pride and ego was valid - that everyone around them was against them. Was immature, was wrong - but my partner? Golden, brilliant. He was kind to me as well, praising me and bolstering my low self esteem when I was feeling down. He was poly. He had another 18 year old girlfriend. And a type too. Like my partner, they were small. Young looking. he started to make me uncomfortable once I found that out.

He asked us to join his polycule at some point. This is the first year - or maybe the third semester - I can't remember. It's a haze now. I flipped. My partner didn't think it was a bad idea. I said no - and it was like a switch had been flipped. Gone was the congenial man - now I was the immature child who just needed to relax - who needed to share - who needed to do this and that and this and that - so that he could sleep with my partner. Who....was on his side at first.

I was an angry person, during that time. I tried to set rules, and ultimatums - and that was wrong. I guess I couldn't see how anyone could....fall for him. In this situation - when what was going on was clear. Future revelations have even confirmed that the man is a pedophile. It fucked with my head.

I had a group of college friends during that time - a big bunch of people who I

My name is Mel. Hers is Willow. I have been with her for years. We had a group of friends in college who were colorful people - and they were our first exposure to queer identity - she has trouble talking about them.

They were unique, and interesting, and unashamed of themselves. It was new - but we had just broken up with the partner. She doesn't think it was a good idea, but it was. You don't stay with someone who calls you crazy for not wanting to fuck a pedo.

It was not a good time. We were not sleeping, not eating - we nearly

Let's not talk about that. We had a group of friends who pulled us back from the brink of utter madness. Who validated our fears and our pain - losing someone dear to us, who we thought we trusted - it was devastating. I'll admit, I think we rebounded quite hard with some people with the group.

Sex wasn't something new, but something scary. Bad, almost. I associated it with the man. That was what he wanted - that was what drove him - I did not want to be like him. But this group was positive - healing - at least half of it was. They tried. I think I can appreciate that.

At some point during the year - fourth semester I suppose, someone suggested we all start hooking up. The group split over this, and in hindsight it seems silly. There was a whole sect of the group that sought to keep to an almost christian outlook on sex - and at the time that really scared us. We had been raised christian and, if we're being frank, that was part of why the idea scared us so much. But, w were scared, and alone, and a hole had been made in our hearts. This seemed like an opportunity to grow closer with people who had changed our outlooks on life, and we wanted to change. I had started to feel doubt about my decisions regarding the old roomate, but the group had decided, and did not want to go back on their decision. I kept quiet - and silence is always a mistake.

I slept with one of my friends who I knew...well, I had thought it was just...comfort. I thought

You're okay.

She had thought it wasn't as serious as it turned out to be - a hookup with someone who likes you means a lot more to them than you'll think though, especially if the whole idea is beyond you.

We had never dated before - never hooked up before. It was a new and strange idea - and - with a friend who I was close with - how could it go wrong?

Italics is Luce. Not sure about differences in writing style - hard to track and follow. More akin to our journal style anyways.

Regardless. Wrong - what went wrong. Everything. The love she felt for their old partner, who had wronged them. It kept her from moving on - the hookup was a massive issue. A mistreatment of a friend. Still bound to rules of loyalty and thoughts of - just maybe - if she was a good person, in the eyes of her traditions - then perhaps things would work out. They did not.

I hurt their feelings really badly. I don't know the extent of it. I didn't know how to resolve the situation in a way that would make things better - and I just wanted things to get better no matter what. I didn't want to lose anyone.

I don't remember our reasoning for most of this - what I do remember is the struggle we felt. I remember telling her not to go back with her partner and being ignored. That's what happened, after all. So desperate to fix things, to go back to some semblance of normal - that she went back to he person who had wounded her heart and scarred her sense of love for anyone else.

Still dealing with that. Still have to remind her. Still have to keep her

I need to stay on track. Okay. Again, it's another mistake where I handled something that was so emotionally fragile in a blunt, self serving way. I would remind my friend that I was dating someone else. I'd thought it'd help them move on - and when they didn't, and would tell me about it frequently - and how much they were hurting, i didn't respond sympathetically.

Instead I left them on read. Ghosted them for a whole summer - and then expected things to be fine the year after.

"Because that's how things are supposed to work. Whether you like it or not, that's how you need to behave, because that's how things are. Feelings don't matter, you have to play your role." Which is rather fucked up, in my recent opinion. The amount of people we've hurt - the decisions she's made because of what she's thought she's had to do - it's almost funny. A comedy of errors.

I lost my closest friends in that time. My self-serving actions had shown what a monster I was. There was doubt of course - because I knew what I should have done, and I didn't. I didn't apologize, I stuck to my grudges and misplaced anger - and with a partner who...

That's a conversation still developing. Will not talk about that right now. Lots to think about.

For all this storytelling, what she's trying to get to is the fact that she hasn't seen any of these people, these former friends who would like her dead - she hasn't seen them in ages. They're not on campus, they're not in the hallways - they're missing. On some level that's good - our head is already splintered enough without meeting someone who...when there's nothing we can do for someone, to mend a wrong - it's stressful. We don't want people to hurt. I don't want anyone to be hurt by our actions - I just want to help people be happy.

I stuck with the group that had splintered - the ones that more or less wanted to push for abstinence. They were on my side, and already had bad blood with the other group. Once again I think I got caught up with the motion of the mob - and once again I agreed with them despite my doubt and guilt. I knew I had caused all of this, that it could have been avoided if I had taken things slower, and had not acted in my own interests. As the months wore on though, I couldn't handle it. The guilt grew and it finally exploded out in a message that...I placed all the blame on myself.

I don't think it was true, or reasonable. These people had hated eachother for a long time. I had played peacekeeper between them for a long time, trying to soften words and redirect hatred - I had wanted things to be better for everyone before the hookup. It had not gone well. There is nothing like working very hard to help two of your friends come to terms with their differences only for them to have a shouting match.

In the end, perhaps there was an element of control I was looking for. Some way to mend things - though that's a deeper issue, one she is very familiar with.

But I blamed myself. I said i was wrong, that I had handled every situation awfully, and that I had just...wanted a lot. I wanted to apologize, I wanted them all to be friends again, and I wanted to face their judgement. I wanted to talk things out. I don't remember the conversation.

I do. I won't repeat it. There was a lot said, a lot of blame to be frank, that was undeserved. You were just a person. You had made mistakes - but you were not the cause of every action that was brought up. You never said anyone tried to kill themself.

I forgot about that.

That's how it works, to be frank. We don't remember things like this well - but Mel does thankfully. Keeps the record straight in the long run, and we sorely need that.

There were many claims that made her feel like she did not deserve to walk the earth. That she was wrong to exist. That all she could do was hurt others, despite her best intentions.

I think that's a joke at this point. I didn't have any intentions. I had just wanted it all over. I had wanted it to be done. I wanted it all to go away and to just not bother me anymore - and that was how I handled so many things - is it still how I handle things? I had just wanted to not feel uncomfortable, but maybe I'm selling myself

We have always taken the words of others as gospel - if someone says that we are a certain way, then that is what our actions depict. Our course must be corrected if our actions are to match our intentions - but with that comes the opposite - if our actions are stated to have an intention, she will believe that it is the intention she held.

I don't know how much more I can write. My head is getting really tangled and they're inttterupting more than I can actually wrwite - aI can't keep at it. Long and shor tof it - I fuckd up. II fucked up realy

She's tired.

The long and short of it is that none of them speak to us anymore - and it's hurt us ever since. We have tried to change ourselves to be better in the long run, but she's basing her opinion of herself on what she believes these people would think of her. She vowed that she would turn herself into someone they could be proud of - that the suffering they went through would not be inflicted upon another.

But I grow to realize that it's not only me, who was in the wrong. You do not accuse someone of joking about anothers' suicide lightly. You do not strip someone down when they are trying to atone - or perhaps you do.

I've been crazy now for awhile. i hear voices, I see things, my head aches and feels lik it's going to burst into a million piecees. I see so many things happen, and these stories play through my mind every day, remiindineding me of all the htings tthtat are going wrong - that can go wrong - too many thinigs - too many things - too many thingi to many tthings too many things

We have work to do. All of this started because we went to the lunchroom and realized that we hadn't seen any of them in about a year now - and we wished to talk about it.

I don't really know what take to put on this - what the takeaway is - if you've just rread thtourhg this trainwreck of a post then I'm so sorryu I'm just. - fuck. It's all fucked up. Everything's so fucked right nwo.

I'm so sorry

Fuck.

I hope everyone's okay. I hope nobody's died from covid or shit - there was so much going on with everyone - I hope they've moved on and they're happy - they all deserve that after everything - they do they -

Gods

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Caught Up In Obscenity (Rajila) - Circe

AN: Halleloo I’m back bitches

I saw Raja and Manila together with my own two eyes and so thought in celebration I should dig up this thing that I wrote ages ago. I have not entirely abandoned AQ, but I frequent it less, so this is not a return, merely a revisiting. Never say never, however.

There were two prompts ages ago: same-season friends-with-benefits and the more specific “people notice that Raja has started wearing mostly Manila merchandise”. This is the love child of both, with a side order of Raven because I’m also kinda Ravja trash apparently. It is definitely not my best work. Sorry.

Title from Ms Luzon herself because I’m unoriginal.

- Circe x

000

“Are you gonna hang around for a bit? That guy over there said he’d buy us shots if we do one off his body.”

“Nah, I have an early start tomorrow. I’m just gonna go home.”

“Boo, you whore! This is fourth time in a row you’ve blown me off in the last two weeks. Are you sick of me or something?”

“As if I could ever get sick of you, bitch. No, I’m just tired. I don’t wanna risk over-sleeping.”

“God, you’re getting old.”

“That’s what happens when you hit 40, Rave.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Don’t be a bitter bitch. It’s nothing personal, I swear.”

“Yeah yeah, grandpa. You’d better run back to your rocking chair and your knitting, you’re gonna miss Golden Girls.”

Raja sighs heavily. She doesn’t like doing this. This is the only niggling doubt in the grand scheme of things.

“Are you ok? I know you’re old but this isn’t like you. Are you depressed? Are you having a mid-life crisis?”

“No, David. I’m fine I promise. I’ve been in drag for 5 hours and I have to be up in 5 hours for a photo shoot and I’m sobering up and I’m tired. I just wanna go to bed tonight. Have fun though, just don’t let Martin find out what you did for free shots.”

Raven smiles tightly as Raja leans in to kiss her cheek, and frowns at her retreating back as she winds her way through the crowd towards the door.

000

“So I’ll be in Brazil for like two weeks so this’ll be the last time I’ll see you until next month.” Karl says, like he’s thinking aloud. The weight of his head is warm against Sutan’s shoulder. Sutan wonders if he realises he is counting his ribs with his fingertips and stirring up the warmth in Sutan’s lower stomach all over again.

“That’s probably for the best. Raven’s getting suspicious.”

“Huh?” Karl’s fingers pause in their pointillism patterns across Sutan’s chest. His low voice rumbles through Karl’s temple where it’s pressed against his skin.

“I turned down body shots off a Marco Marco model and apparently that was out of character.”

Karl laughs; a bright sound. Sutan frowns as he feels it somewhere near his lungs.

“Well I don’t think she’ll guess. She knows I’m not your type.” Karl tilts his head up to look wistfully at the light fitting.

Sutan frowns again but there’s nothing negative behind it. He follows Karl’s eyeline to the single cobweb hanging from the light. “I don’t have a type.”

“Yeah you do.” Says Karl easily.

Sutan glances at his phone. Three missed calls from his agent. Great. He sighs and pulls himself out of Karl’s embrace and off the bed.

He pulls on his underwear and runs a hand through his gray hair, longer now than it has been in years. Karl rolls onto his side to admire the smooth expanse of his back and marvel at his best friend’s beauty like he usually does at this time in the morning.

“Fuck. I need to stop coming here in drag.” Says Sutan, sifting through the pile of his clothes. “I can’t walk out of here in a bra and robe”

“Fuck gender roles, Raja.” Says Karl flamboyantly from where he is still splayed across the bed.

“Seriously. You’re gonna have to lend me clothes again.”

Karl groans into the mattress. “I just got my shorts back from you, and you’re gonna have to borrow them again because you sure aren’t gonna fit any of my pants.”

“Sorry, Heather. I didn’t consider practicalities.”

Karl groans again, face still buried in his sheets. “You know where they are.”

Sutan leaves Karl’s apartment in yellow shorts and a Manila shirt, not for the first time, without a formal word or a kiss goodbye.

000

The two weeks that follow see Sutan hook up with three people in the first week and then no one in the following week. No matter how hot the guy is, he seems to be unable to remove the itch behind his eyeballs, the dryness in his mouth.

His friends potentially notice something is…not wrong…just not quite right. But nobody says anything.

When Karl returns, he shows up to Raja’s gig. When the cute lighting technician who has been eyeing Raja for the last two weeks and may or may not be behind the never-ending complimentary refills of her wine she’s been enjoy lately finally plucks up the courage to hold a proper conversation with her, she apologises sweetly. A week ago, she would have felt that flutter of flirtatious excitement, but tonight she thanks him for the drinks and excuses herself, her hand clasped firmly in Karl’s.

She arrives back at her own house the next morning in a different Mania t-shirt and everything returns to normal.

000

“Wow, you’re up early. I came round expecting to have to break in considering you’re rarely conscious at this hour.” Says David from the doorstep.

“Yeah, today is the rare exception. What can I do for you, Raven?”

“I just came to drop off these.” She holds up a pair of Raja’s favourite heels. “Thanks for letting me borrow them, whore.”

Sutan scoffs as he takes the shoes. “You better not have scuffed them or anything.”

“Not a scratch, I promise. I wouldn’t dream of being so careless.” Says David, and he runs his gaze up Sutan, taking in his boots and jacket.

“Are you going out?”

“Hm? No, just a lazy morning in I think…”

“So why are you dressed like you are? Have you just got in?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah I went to grab some stuff from Whole Foods.”

David decides that he has never seen that shirt before, and he’s seen most of Sutan’s clothes. Those shorts don’t look familiar either, and he was wearing those boots last night in drag. But Sutan would never lie about something so trivial as a hookup. In fact, he’d boast. David isn’t sure he wants to know what was going on. Maybe the guy had been someone embarrassing…

“Thanks Rave. Like I said, lazy morning in, I’m so tired from the show last night.”

It finished at 1 and you left straight away…

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you next week, bitch.”

000

It started at LA Pride a few years back.

Detox seems to make everything a little less serious, and that’s exactly what Raja needed; to feel unrestrained and happy and gay at that time of celebration. Manila was there too, standing beside her and leaning on her shoulder and holding her hand for most of the day. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was about that day that made them even more tactile than normal, so she puts it down to the liberating feeling of performing in front of thousands of drunk queers who all knew their names.

She announced that she wanted Detox to kiss her, and Detox being Detox had no qualms about fulfilling this request. She was so pumped full of silicone that it was quite unlike kissing anyone else, almost like she wasn’t quite human, but enjoyable none the less, and she was too drunk to pay too much attention to the crowd.

If she remembers correctly, she asked Manila to kiss her as well, right there in front of an audience, which seemed to come from some dark chasm inside Raja that she hadn’t fully acknowledged. But, Pride was about pushing boundaries. She can’t quite remember if Manila actually did kiss her then, or if she just pressed her entire body against Raja’s back in a gesture that was almost as bad.

There was certainly kissing later. That was all, however. First it was a light peck in front of fans between fits of laughter, then something more questionable a few hours after that, when the growing darkness of evening could hide it. Manila looked at her like she wanted to try something new. Raja thought that if the Bible Bashers were right and there was an all-powerful homophobe sitting above the clouds watching her every move, then today was a good day to really piss him off. So when Manila’s fingers brushed over her jaw and her smile was small and powerful, she went with it, because that’s what you do at Pride; you drunkenly make out with your best friend for 20 minutes on a couch at the back of some gay bar somewhere.

They didn’t actually sleep together until a few months later.

000

“Are you even into me?”

“Huh?”

“See? You’re barely listening even now.”

“I don’t understand the question. Of course I’m into you; we’re dating.”

“Are we though? Because it’s been months and I still have to text you first. And for someone who is famous for having a high sex drive, we fuck an awful lot less than I expected.”

“Look, if this isn’t all you hoped it would be, then –“

“It is, Sutan! I like you so much, and I like you more and more every time I see you. But you’re a fucking closed book. You spend entire nights at the club and don’t come back until the morning. You don’t want me seeing you perform as Raja that often even though that’s how we met. You’re skittish at best and secretive at worst and I don’t understand why I’m doing all the work. If you don’t like me, why are you still dating me?”

“I do like you. Of course I do. It’s just…being a drag queen means my life isn’t necessarily normal. I do have to stay out all night sometimes, and I tour and I keep myself busy so I don’t have time to devote myself completely to you at this point.”

“You’re everything I hoped you would be and also you’re completely not. You have secrets, I know that, but I only see you once a week, twice if I’m lucky, and where the fuck have all these Manila Luzon shirts come from? Do you have some twink on the side or something?”

“Listen; I’m a performer. I borrow people’s clothes and I keep secrets and I flirt with strangers and that’s something you’ll have to get used to. This is what dating me is like, I’m sorry, that probably isn’t going to change.”

It isn’t strictly speaking a lie, although Sutan is usually a much better boyfriend but there’s this one habit that he’s finding it rather impossible to shake off and it’s certainly not something he could talk to his boyfriend about.

“Right, as long as we’re clear on that. I don’t think it’s gonna work, Sutan. I can’t share you with everyone else. I have to be treated differently. I’d say I’m moving out but I never moved in.”

“If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you.”

000

“I’m sorry, honey.” Says Karl.

“Don’t be. He was right, it was for the best.”

“Did he give you a reason?”

Sutan knows Karl and his conscience and he isn’t about to let slip that he caused the breakup of the first relationship Sutan has had in years that lasted longer than a month.

“He wanted more of me. He didn’t understand the lifestyle.”

“Ugh, the gays sure do love drama.” Karl says ironically. He finishes his tea. Sutan feels the warmth of it sooth something in his soul.

“Either way it’s done now. It’s over.” Sighs Sutan.

“There’ll be others. There’s always others.”

Sutan nods. He has other offers, he knows, but he feels like maybe he doesn’t want a relationship right now. He has international tours coming up, several of which will be with Manila, so it’s not like he’ll need sex on the road.

“I’ve brought a load of your shirts back, by the way. I think we need to be more careful.”

“Honey, you know I have entire trash bags full of those things.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to throw them away.”

Karl smiles warmly at him. Maybe Sutan needs to date another drag queen in the future, as Karl has always accepted what his job demands of him without question, because he does it too.

“So, not to be indelicate, but did you come for a kiki or a kai kai?”

Sutan drums tattooed fingers on his lips as he rests his chin on the heel of his hand.

“The first one. I wouldn’t say no to the second one, of course, but that’s why I came. I came for Karl not Manila.”

“You can come for Manila too if you want.” Says Karl with a coy smile and Sutan actually rolls his eyes.

“Pathetic.”

Karl stands and moves round the table to sit himself in Sutan’s lap. Sutan sighs as his friend strokes his hands over his shoulders and loops them loosely round his neck.

“I’m just trying to make you feel better, Heather.” Says Karl softly, kissing the tip of his nose.

“You’re succeeding.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” He says between gentle kisses against his lips that linger long enough for Sutan to start reciprocating but not enough to be satisfying.

When Sutan’s hand move from his hips to his ass, he grinds down into Sutan’s lap a little, teasing. Sutan sighs against his lips.

“Come on. I’ll help you forget about the whole thing.”

000

The sex started where these things usually start; BOTS tour.

It wasn’t a fumble in the tiny coffin of a bunk on the bus, or a small hotel where they had to share rooms. It was a strange shift in reality where Raja was horny and there was no trade around and somehow she thought it would be a good idea to walk the three steps across the corridor and knock on her best friend’s door. She can’t remember what she expected to happen; if she went with the intention of sleeping with Manila or if she just wanted to complain to someone who would be sympathetic but would ultimately tell her to pull herself together.

It was months after the kiss that was much longer and more passionate than most kisses that mean nothing and it lingered somewhere in Raja’s subconscious. Manila was stripping herself of her makeup and turning into Karl again and Raja sat on the floor watching her, her back against the bathtub. They’d talked for a while about their sisters and their journey and the lack of trade and they’d fallen into a silence while Karl washed the remnants of foundation off his face. Raja was in half-drag, too lazy and semi-drunk to change completely. She ran a finger down the line of a ladder in Manila’s tights, Karl stopped what he was doing as the touch seemed to shoot up his spinal chord and go right to his head and then down to his pelvis, but carried on without a word.

Fresh-faced, he turned to look down at Raja, and offered her a hand to pull her to her feet. Even without heels she stood notably taller than Karl. He realized that they hadn’t been this alone and this tipsy and this isolated together since LA Pride.

Raja followed his thought pattern through his face.

They stood close in the silent bathroom. A thud through the wall announced that it was likely that Sharon had fallen over in the bathroom next door, probably out of inebriation. Raja looked over her shoulder at the wall that separated the rooms, and then back to Karl.

It took Karl standing on his toes to reach Raja’s mouth to peck her lips affectionately. The gesture was friendly, and Raja smiled. Karl looked satisfied, and walked back through to the bedroom.

They talked for a bit longer, and then when it got to the early hours of the morning and Karl was eyeing the alarm clock warily, Raja decided to go back and collapse into her own bed. She hugged Karl from behind, enveloping him in long, artistic arms. He fell back into the embrace, fitting against Raja’s chest. He smiled comfortably as Raja pressed a friendly kiss to his head, then his temple and his cheek, and a slightly-less-friendly kiss to his jaw and an undeniably more-than-friendly kiss to his neck. The atmosphere change was palpable, like someone turned on the stage lights.

Karl felt completely malleable in her arms, not so much trapped as fixed to the spot, and could do little more than accept the situation as Raja’s kisses against his neck became more concrete. When he felt her teeth his eyes fluttered shut.

And just like that it had been set in motion. Karl let her mouth at his neck for a few moments before his heartbeat seemed to block out everything, and turned in her arms to look at her frankly, face undoubtedly flushed.

“Are we gonna fuck, Raja?”

Raja tilted her head on one side. “I guess so. Do you want to?”

Karl stood and stared at her with narrowed eyes for a while, internally debating. He sighed heavily.

“Yeah.”

The lack of hesitation when Karl reached up to kiss her again, properly this time, made the whole situation feel sort of inevitable.

000

They’re friends with benefits. After the night in the hotel, Sutan berated himself for a lapse in judgement while subconsciously looking for another opportunity for something similar to happen. When it does it actually makes his desire for it worse. He tries sleeping with other people to convince himself it’s just his general wish for sex, but it’s no good; it’s Karl. It’s something about his friend that keeps him pulling him into closets and inviting him over for wine-addled movie nights that lead to hours and hours making up for all the time they knew each other, but didn’t know each other.

Eventually when they talk, they both agree that relationships are terrifying and their respective and combined fame would make privacy virtually impossible. No, it’s not worth it. Neither wishes to risk their close friendship, but they can’t seem to keep their hands off each other when the sky gets dark and the alcohol warms their stomachs.

“We’ll just have to be fuck buddies then.” Says Karl with a shrug.

“Aren’t we a bit old for that?”

“Well, it seems like the only way to keep sleeping together without ruining everything.”

“You have a point.”

So it’s kept casual and kept a secret. Raja goes to Karl after gigs. Karl shows up on Sutan’s doorstep late at night, or on a quiet Sunday evening. They request rooms next to each other when touring, or they make do with hurried, hot embraces in the cramped space of the tour bus. No one finds out because they’re careful not to bite too hard or groan too loudly.

Karl doesn’t date; he doesn’t meet anyone he wants to date. Sutan tries, but he can’t seem to keep any of them. He finds he doesn’t really care.

They’re not exclusive; there are one-night stands and hook-ups and fairly touchy meet-and-greets, but neither seem to fully realise that the only constant contact in their lives at this point is each other. In a way they are exclusive, just without noticing.

They text and talk like they always have. They meet for dinner and go on trips with their friends and they tweet each other passive-aggressively and hold hands on red carpets and get ready next to each other, using the same dressing room mirror. Their friendship is as strong as it has ever been, if not stronger.

Sutan wears Karl’s borrowed clothes around his house for a while once he gets home because he likes the way the material carries his smell. Manila asks to do more and more shows together because she wants to watch Raja with her mouth going dry, her eyes wide and her head fuzzy with lust from the comforting secrecy of the wings of the stage. They don’t kiss after sex because they seem to have entered a silent agreement that such a gesture would be too close to tender and there’s no point unless they’re going to have sex again. One morning Karl’s blonde streak is glowing in the morning sun and he bites his tongue as he teases Sutan about his age or his hair or his cluttered house or something, and the image causes something to stir in Sutan and he realises he wants to kiss him. But no, that would be ridiculous and couple-y and totally out of line. So he doesn’t.

One of Karl’s friends finds Sutan’s glasses by Karl’s bed. The blind idiot will be walking into everything, thinks Karl. His friend makes a joke that is worryingly close to the truth and Karl brushes it off, taking the glasses off him, holding them carefully so he doesn’t smudge the lenses with his fingerprints while he considers whether people just assume that they’ve slept together at some point in the past.

Sutan takes a guy home from the club at least ten years younger than him because he has black hair and a pineapple necklace.

Sutan goes to Europe for ten days and both of them can barely sit still, being used to seeing each other at least once a week.

When he gets back, Karl drives to his house and kisses him on the fucking doorstep like a 40s housewife whose husband has returned from the war. Sutan smiles against his lips and holds him against him for a while before they move to the bedroom.

Fuck, he thinks.

000

“Who is he then?”

“Who is who?”

“The dude you’re fucking in secret. I’m dumb, but not that dumb. I’m kinda hurt you don’t wanna share, Su.”

“I’m not ‘fucking’ anyone in secret.”

“You so are.”

Sutan sighs and shakes his head. “Fuck off, Raven. I don’t need this today. We’re gonna be late for filming.”

The playful tone drops from David’s voice and he sets his jaw, staring at his friend as he packs up his drag.

“I call you and you don’t answer. You’re covered in hickeys half the time and it’s been months since you hooked up with someone. You’re seeing someone. I know you are. Just tell me.”

“Even if I was, I don’t see how it’s any of your business, David.” Sutan feels his temper rising with his panic as he’s backed into a corner.

“I’m worried about you! You’re acting fucking weird. You’re always awake really early and you’re home by 11 and you’re not over-sharing or anything normal.”

“I just—“

“And look at your room, it’s bad even by your standard, Raja!” David kicks at the clutter lining the floor. Sutan has spent very little time in his own bedroom recently, and things seem to have stacked up, both figuratively and literally. “I know you’re a hoarder and a slob and everything but it looks like you haven’t even been sleeping in here! And you’re always so careful with your clothes and you’ve just left them here in this pile, which is so unlike you, and they’re not even like your clothes, since when did your style change to be mostly brightly coloured shorts and fucking Manila Luzon shirts—“

David freezes where he stands, the end of the last word trailing off. His grip slackens and the shirts he’d been holding fall from his fist. He looks at Sutan incredulously.

“Since when did you own so many…? Since when…”

He trails off as he stares at his friend in utter disbelief. Sutan swallows hard and says nothing.

His rant finishes in a decisive and yet somehow still interrogatory utterance of “Manila.”

“Listen–“

“Sutan what the fuck is going on?” He asks frankly, and there’s a tinge of fear in his voice.

Raven’s eyes are cold, like stone, like a snake. Sutan’s mouth goes dry, unable to form words.

“It’s not what you think…” He manages. It’s exactly what he thinks, however. Sutan doesn’t like lying to David.

“Yeah right.” David releases Sutan from his stony gaze and looks at the pile of clothes. Leave Manila’s shirts out for everyone to pick through, smart move, Raja.

“I honestly can’t with you.” He says like it’s a eulogy. Sutan is still struggling to find a way to defend himself…and Karl as well, he supposes…

“I can explain.”

“I don’t wanna hear it. This is…this is not what I expected at all…I don’t – I don’t know what to say…I’m so – I can’t believe you kept this from me when you know how much I care about you both and—“

“Rave, you have no idea what’s going on.”

“Yeah, I don’t really want to know. I need – I need to go home and, uh…try to get my head round this whole fucked up situation.” He says and he’s already moving to the door. Sutan follows him.

“David, just listen, it’ll make more sense…”

“Doubt it. Don’t call me. I need some time.” He says over his shoulder. The snake stare is back and it makes Sutan’s skin crawl. David leaves. Sutan stares at the door for a while after it shuts.

It took a while for David to trust him like a best friend. He knows how much he hates being lied to. He knows that he’s angry because he cares. He knows he’s more than likely a bit confused by the whole thing.

Join the club, thinks Sutan.

He pushes all of Manila’s shirts under his bed.

000

“Girl, where have you been? It’s been like a week and I haven’t heard from you. Are you ok?”

Karl doesn’t sound mad. He sounds worried, and that’s all. Sutan’s throat closes up.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet. I’m fine though.”

“What’s your damage, Heather?”

Sutan sighs down the phone. “Raven knows.”

“…”

Sutan bites his nails, chewing the black nail polish off his thumb.

“Raven…knows?”

“Yes. It’s my fault, I’m sorry.”

“Right, um…what did he say?”

“He was mad. He hasn’t spoken to me since and we have shows to do together, it’s gonna be really awkward.”

“Why was he mad?”

“I don’t know, it’s David, he’s temperamental. Probably just because I didn’t tell him or because we’re both his friends or something.”

He hears Karl sigh heavily through the phone. It crackles against the speaker.

“Fuck.”

“Yep.”

“He’ll…he’ll come around. He has to. Did you explain what’s going on?”

Sutan thinks maybe he doesn’t quite know what’s going on himself.

“I didn’t get a chance to. He stormed out.”

“Well maybe when he understands the whole situation, he might calm down a bit.”

“Maybe.”

“Are you sure you’re ok? Do you want me to come over?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Sutan presses his nails into the palm of his hand.

“We don’t have to do anything. We could just…I don’t know…watch a movie? Order pizza? Cuddle until you feel better?”

That sounds to Sutan like the complete opposite of what he should be doing. It also sounds undeniably appealing.

“Sure. That sounds nice.”

“Sweet. I’ll be over in a sec.” He hangs up. Sutan sits down heavily in his armchair.

You’re a fucking idiot, Raja.

000

Karl’s attraction to Raja is really something he should have got over by now.

They’ve known each other for years, plus they met in drag. They spent the first months of rapidly-moving friendship in drag, or talking about drag or working on drag, and so she really shouldn’t still have this effect.

As practically a queen since birth, Karl has always been able to appreciate feminine beauty and all its different definitions and forms, but it seems like the corner of his mind that isn’t quite 100% homosexual comes out from the heavy darkness, hovering ominously in the corner of his vision, whenever he sees Raja in all her long-legged, inked-up, glittery glory.

Sure, she has pretty much the same effect on everyone, but it’s difficult when Karl’s supposed to be platonically fucking her. It’s a weird sensation; something he never thought would actually happen, but feels oddly natural since he has to admit that it’s been happening right at the back of his mind pretty much since he met Sutan.

He knows there’s a problem even though there doesn’t feel like there is because Sutan is his best friend and he’s always loved him and when he wakes up next to him he presses himself up against him like he’s trying to meld them together permanently and there’s something in his kisses that’s similar to what makes Karl want to write stupid love songs and he knows he’s a cliché but he’s a drag queen, they both are, so what do people expect?

“Ooh, baby, you’re driving me crazy, I can’t sleep at night…” Thinks Karl, swallowing heavily, staring at his bedroom ceiling and wishing it was Sutan’s. He won’t allow himself to see him too often, but he finds himself agitated and melancholy after a few days of silence. He hears his own stupid song echoing in his ears, knocking patiently against his eardrums, probing at his brain like it needs some form of ironic acknowledgement, like his past self is getting off on being ever-so-slightly prophetic.

You got yourself into this, Westerberg.

Maybe past-him is right. Maybe he’s stuck on him.

000

“Happy birthday!”

“That’s the seventh time today you’ve said that. I’ve been counting.”

“I thought I’d say it again. It’s not every day you turn…geez, how old are you now? Around…102, right?”

“107 actually.”

“Right.”

Sutan wants a cigarette, but he doesn’t want to move. They’re going to meet a big group of friends out in West Hollywood in an hour and a half, and he wants to bask in the afterglow for a while longer.

He thinks about being a year older and how in his profession it’s difficult to be a drag queen past 40 with dignity, especially in the strand of drag he does. He may not look his age, but it’s damn hard work to keep it that way.

He’s also very much single, and as much as he never wanted the whole nuclear family setup with a husband and children to come home to, society has clearly bred in him a subconscious worry that he isn’t living the life he is supposed to at his age.

Karl reads the furrow in his brow like actual text.

“Honey, what’s up? You know I’m joking right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Just…the usual feeling of getting older I suppose.”

“Babe, I was joking.” Karl has that soft neutral expression on his face, like he knows he has to be serious, but the light can’t quite drain out of his features completely.

“It isn’t your fault. I’m being dramatic again.”

“Please don’t have a mid-life crisis on me.”

He sighs. “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?”

“Su, your life is incredible. You’ve achieved so much. You’ve done, like, everything…everything you ever wanted to do…”

“I know.” Sutan nods. He runs his hand through gray hair. “I feel like some part of me thinks I haven’t done everything right since I’m not married, or even close to it, and that’s somehow…wrong at my age? Shit, even Needles is getting married.” He theorises. Karl has his cheek pressed against Sutan’s bare chest. He can feel his heartbeat under his chin.

“You hardly live a conventional life.”

“I know.”

“Is that what you want?”

“God no. I’m happy.”

“Then don’t let society’s expectations, or Raven’s fucking sappy Facebook posts, get you down. You don’t need marriage to be happy. You could never belong to just one person anyway.”

Sutan wonders if that’s true. He doesn’t doubt it, or question it, or reaffirm it, just wonders…

“And you have me and you have all your sisters and your friends and your family and so you have no excuse to be lonely.”

Karl raises his head, propping himself up on his arms. The sheets slide down off his back. Sutan’s gaze scans over his messy hair, the hickeys blossoming on his neck and collarbone, this unusual and inviting quality in his gaze that makes friends, enemies and strangers alike fall in love with him without really knowing why.

“I’m not lonely.” He says finally.

That small smile is back, that lifts the corner of Karl’s lips that Sutan has always envied for being such a perfect shape without needing any pumping. His eyes are so huge and Sutan’s train of thought skims past the eight-year age difference between them. Karl’s thoughts are somewhere different, but probably equally risky as they tilt precariously on the cusp of something new.

“Good.” Says Karl softly, like he understands at last.

He feels out Sutan’s cheekbone with feather light touches, sliding across smooth skin down to his square jaw. He closes the distance between them painfully slowly, and Sutan is screaming at himself inside his head, something about boundaries and best friends and bad decisions, something about sex and love, but he feels like sighing in relief that Karl took the first step so he didn’t have to.

The kiss is weird. Karl’s lips have never felt more tentative, he’s never held back like this, like he’s fighting against his tether. Even as Sutan slowly returns the contact, Karl doesn’t quite commit, teetering on the edge. He falls into it though, as he was always going to, and it’s soft and cautious and so hideously weighted with the unspoken that it leaves Sutan more breathless than all the hours of sex they’ve had combined.

Karl pulls away, carefully, like he’s extracting something delicate, and Sutan blinks his eyes open slowly to look at him.

“Happy birthday.” He says again, quietly, into the heated space between their mouths.

000

“So you’re fucking Raja?”

“Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me. She made all her Manila shirts into cushions. She seems to now have an infinite supply and it’s all over social media.”

“Maybe she just bought them? Maybe she wanted more? Why jump to conclusions, Juju?”

“Because you haven’t denied it. You’re fucking him and I know you are, so cut the bullshit.”

“…”

“And also Raven told me.”

000

The sun is beginning to rise. The night has officially become morning with it’s watery light.

Manila feels heavy and uncomfortable under her makeup. She sits at the side of the pool, in a rare moment of quiet without someone coming to talk to her. It’s 5 am. She presumes most people are heading home.

Pool parties are fun, especially when she gets paid a lot of money to attend, but there’s a chill that comes with the morning that prickles at her skin under the robe she’s draped over her swimsuit.

She’s drinking water. Her throat is dry from talking and singing. Her calves ache from dancing, her shoes have pinched at her heels from standing in them for too long.

Raven appears, sitting on the bench next to her without a word.

There’s something both peaceful and dislikeable about this time of the gig; a calm after the storm of a party, but a winding down that parallels her descent into sobriety that makes her just want to go home.

Raven sighs. They haven’t had much of a chance to talk while the party was in full swing. This is the first time she’s seen Manila since she figured out she was fucking her best friend.

“Just ask, Raven. I don’t have the energy to dance around this all day.”

“How do you know I have an agenda? I’m fucking exhausted and my feet are killing me. Maybe I just wanna chill in silence.”

“You’re chewing off your lipstick. You’d never do that if you weren’t anxious.”

A beat of silence follows.

“So you’re sleeping with my best friend.”

“Yes.”

“You’re sleeping with your best friend.”

“I suppose so.”

“How did that happen?” Her tone is light and casual, like she’s asking how her weekend was.

“BOTS. Drunk and alone. Pretty standard.”

“Romantic.”

Manila laughs resentfully.

“We sort of slipped into a habit. We thought it’d be best not to tell anyone because it wasn’t serious and we have too much to lose.”

“Except it is serious.”

Manila sighs, weighed down and crumbling under it all.

“You’re both a bit old to have meaningless sex, you know that, right?”

“That’s what he said.”

“And of course you do realise it isn’t meaningless, right?”

“I’m beginning to.”

“It isn’t a good idea to love him, Manila.”

“I know and that’s why I don’t.”

Raven’s smile is filled with pity. She looks forward across the valley again, at the sun slowly rising.

“Yes you do.”

Manila sighs again.

“It’s so easy just having him there. It’s all too easy. It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t give up yet. It isn’t all bad. I haven’t seen him like this in a long time. Either your dick is magic or he’s caught up in it all just like you. He hasn’t fucked a backup dancer in months.”

Manila pulls all of her thick hair over one shoulder and flexes her shoulders that are starting to seize up, her waist strangled by her corset.

“Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Raja said you were mad.”

“I was mad she didn’t tell me. I was mad because I was shocked.”

Manila nods. She licks her lips; most of her lipstick has rubbed off and she can’t remember where she put her gloss to reapply it.

“Have you ever fucked her?”

“Yes.”

“Thought so.”

“The situation was different though. I didn’t love her.”

“Are you sure?”

Raven takes a minute. “Yes. Yes I’m pretty sure. We were drag sisters, and then rivals, and then both RuGirls, and then friends. We’ve never been anything outside that. It was a few nights of boredom and nothing much else. Besides, I’ve found my soul mate, and he’s nothing like Raja.”

Manila nods. She looks down at her feet and absentmindedly kicks an empty bottle in front of her.

“You got off fucking easy, honey.”

Raven smiles a little at that.

“Maybe. You’ve just gotta make it right, and it’ll be worth it…probably…”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Sorry I don’t do supportive that often. Just talk to her or something, I don’t know.”

000

“Someone’s started an internet rumour about us.” Mumbles Sutan. Karl takes the phone from his outstretched hand.

“Hm.” He stares at the screen intently for a while. “Is it a rumour if it’s true?”

“Yes.” Sutan takes the phone off him. “Are we that obvious?”

Karl shrugs. They’re out drag shopping. Together. Karl’s life has become a blur of yellow dresses and walls around his heart and Sutan this, Raja that, both of them wherever he turns and whenever he closes his eyes. He can’t tell if he’s getting tired or getting comfortable.

Sutan is too engrossed in corset fittings and chasing up each individual piece for concepts and looks to worry about it. The internet swells and stews in its theories that are closer to the truth than it probably expect. Karl takes pictures of his best friend as he stands in a floor-length gown, without pads or makeup or a wig or anything, just checking the colour with his complexion, and he’s carrying himself in the proud, effortless way that’s quintessential Raja even when he’s Sutan. Karl compliments and critiques. They get lunch and walk the long route back with Starbucks and Karl hasn’t thought about sex all day.

000

They don’t get to perform together that much. Manila’s wanted everywhere, Raja’s needed everywhere else, and the BOTS schedule keeps them on separate continents for a while. That’s why moments like these are sort of precious, when World of Wonder gives them a call and the Drag Race family must assemble and they get to paint their alter-egos onto their faces side by side again.

The lighting is shitty, and Sutan worries that he’ll look busted, but it also isn’t worth leaving the bathroom to find better light because then he wouldn’t get to tease Manila about her attempts to glue down a particularly stubborn lash. He watches her blend her wing into her crease and step back to admire herself in the mirror, pouting slightly to tighten her cheeks and tilting her jaw up to watch the shadow catch underneath.

Sutan glances back at his own reflection, the light sitting on his cheekbones as he paints over Sutan’s slight signs of age with Raja’s immortality.

“Are you in love with me?” Raja asks, because she gets told that a lot by strangers. She thinks about how many times people have professed love to her, how many men have sighed it into the dark hot air of Sutan’s bedroom. She wonders how one would go about validating that statement.

“Yes.” Says Manila. “I am.”

She isn’t looking at Raja, she’s looking at herself. She’s stopped applying her lipstick, and is just staring at herself with an edge of resentment, like she’s berating her own weakness. Her shoulders slump, she sighs, she presses her lips together. Raja catches every idiosyncrasy reflected in the mirror.

Raja has never wanted to hear someone say they love her less.

She nods solemnly and goes back to blending her foundation down her neck. Their light and easy relationship just got a lot harder and heavier.

“Why did you make me say that?”

I didn’t. “Because I wanted to make sure.”

“You knew?”

“Sort of.” Sutan has known since Karl kissed him in the cold light of day on Sutan’s birthday with no agenda other than feeling him kiss back.

Manila laughs sardonically. “That obvious, huh? I’m sorry, Raja.”

“Don’t be.”

“I think we both knew it was always gonna be this way. You sleep around and I catch feelings; it’s who we are. This whole thing was a terrible idea.”

“Probably.” It doesn’t seem that bad in Raja’s memories. It seems warm then hot and forbidden then natural. It seems like an eventuality they had no chance of escaping.

“I think it’s, um…I think it’s best if I just, give you some space for a bit…” Manila says. She’s putting on mascara, and the conversation is the most serious and least dramatic that two drag queens have ever had. It’s like a business transaction and the detachment in Manila’s voice probes at Raja.

“I don’t want that.” She says, because it’s the truth.

“Now everything is out in the open, I don’t wanna hurt every time I see you, Raja. I need to get my shit together.”

“If that’s what you want.” Raja swallows.

“It isn’t.” Says Manila lightly, with a slight hitch in her voice.

“Then why does anything have to change?”

Manila looks across at her then, and Raja turns to meet her eyes. When she sees the muted pain there, crushed and suppressed under Manila’s unquenchable need to be vibrant, she starts to laugh.

The hurt in Manila’s eyes deepens and then warps into confusion as Raja chuckles to herself. She moves closer to pull Manila into her arms. The other stiffens.

“You fucking fool.” Raja says softly, dipping her head to be closer Manila. She nudges her forehead with her nose to make the shorter queen look up at her.

“I was wondering what the fuck you were talking about.” There’s relief in Raja’s voice, and it makes Manila relax a little. “You think I don’t feel the same. That’s it, right?”

Manila swallows hard. With her eyebrows raised and her crease cut, her eyes look bigger than ever. “You…you do?”

Raja laughs again, happily and breathily. Her grip tightens round Manila’s waist. She kisses her gently despite their lipstick.

“You’re over complicating things as usual.” Raja says softly. “I’m head over heels, bitch. Pun intended.”

“You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier, you whore?” Manila murmurs in a sigh of relief. Her eyes are closed. She’s smiling and it’s contagious.

“Watching you squirm was fun.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you.”

“Gay.” Says Manila. Raja’s grinning like an idiot and she wants to kiss her again but she remembers the car arriving to pick them up in around fifteen minutes and she doesn’t have time to redo her makeup. Nothing feels even remotely unnatural or new about holding each other like this, talking close, sharing breathing space, because they’ve been doing it for almost a year now.

“What are we gonna tell everyone?”

“Nothing? The truth? I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.”

“What are we gonna tell Raven?”

“Uh…I’ll get to that later.”

000

“Do you love me again?”

“I never didn’t love you, bitch.”

“Well you didn’t talk to me for weeks which is almost as bad.”

“It was the shock, I think. I don’t like being left out of this kind of thing, Raja.”

“I won’t keep important stuff from you anymore, ok? It is legitimately none of your business, though.”

“I know.”

“Are you…are you at least happy for us?”

“Of course. Mostly because I know you won’t screw each other over. Whenever you tell me you’re seeing someone, I immediately pity them because I know what you’re like with relationships, but with her, I’m not worried. She won’t break your heart because she isn’t physically capable of it, and you won’t screw it up because you know how much is at stake.”

“The public will react how they react, we try not to care too much.”

“I don’t mean the public, you dick. I’ve never seen you in this deep. All this time, it turns out you just needed to date your best friend. You fuckers are perfect for each other, and you’ll be married in two years.”

“Looks like you have a soft centre after all, Rave.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Neither of us wanna get married. That’s not our thing.”

“Sure.”

000

They tell the rest of the world on a stage in front of hundreds of screaming fans of all genders, ages, races and sexualities, surrounded by their sisters and under the welcoming glare of stage lights. Michelle Visage takes the microphone off Manila and after the noise of the crowd finally dies down, she says; “All I have to say about this development, ladies, is that RuPaul owes me 20 bucks.”

#raja gemini #manila luzon #raven #rajila #circe #rpdr fanfiction #submission

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