In which I have a lot of feels about ftm!Dave.
What does it say about me that this is the first Homestuck story I've ever written?
This is stupid.
The dress your bro gave you to try on is a kind of disgusting purple color, like violet only way worse. It's like vomit and purple had a horrible secret love fling and this was its disgusting, mutant child, begotten from their debauchery.
This is really, really stupid.
"Hey, you, uh, okay in there, lil' sis?" Bro asks, knocking on the thin door.
"One minute, bro, calm your shit!" You snarl, blush creeping up your ears.
You pull your shirt off and jam the dress on. You look ridiculous, skinny arms and bobble head poking out of the monstrosity of purple and lace.
This is proper.
This is right.
Isn't it?
The door slams open and you thrust the stupid thing to the ground as hard as you possibly can. It looks pathetic, laying there in a horrible, violet heap. "It's stupid." You growl. "It's stupid and I'm not wearing it."
Bro picks the dress up and holds it out, frowning. "I think it looks okay. Do you not like the color?"
"No, the color's fine—" You shake your head. "No, the color's stupid too. It's all stupid. And I don't want to wear it."
Bro tucks the dress in the crook of his elbow and sighs. "We looked at all the dresses here and you hated them all. I don't know what you want me to—"
"I don't see why I have to wear a dress at all." You snap.
"It's Sheldon and Ramona's wedding, I've told you this a million times. You can't wear a t-shirt and jeans to a wedding."
"Bro, Sheldon and Ramona are your smuppets. I don't think they give a shit what I wear."
"For your information fashion is extremely important to Sheldon."
You throw up your hands. "Fine. Fuck. I don't care anymore. I hate this store. Let's go somewhere else."
Bro shrugs and throws the dress over his shoulder and into the changing room behind him. "Sure. Let's go."
The two of you head through the little department store and are nearly out the door when something catches your eye.
A suit is hanging from a rack in the boy's section.
A suit: all black and straight lines and pants. Merciful, merciful pants that cover your stupid twiggy 9-year old legs and make you feel like something other than weird and wrong. You take one of the sleeves in your hand.
The color black isn't that stupid.
Bro stops. "What, d'you like that?"
"Yeah, I mean…Yeah. It's okay." You mutter.
"Then get it." Bro says simply.
"But it's…" The blush returns, and you wave your hands helplessly. "It's for boys."
Bro snorts, and takes the suit from its rack. "Cool doesn't have a gender, lil' sis." You follow your brother to the checkout counter, trying, and failing, to hide the stupid grin spread across your face.