#I initially wanted a men’s haircut but men’s haircuts are boring so I went with the pixie to reset my part

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I showed the hair stylist a picture of a lady with a pixie cut and somehow, by the grace of the butch gods, I came out looking like a young man

EDIT: No I don’t actually… I look like I’m going to sing “Hey Jude” to the manager

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

loved your previous fic with dick & gar for the "hand-holding" prompt. if you're still taking prompts, then please do #12 - "pushing a strand of hair behind their ear" with dick and gar

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Good Men and Women NOT Doing Nothing

Pairings/Relationships: Dick Grayson & Gar Logan, Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth

Summary: There's something different about Gar when he walks into the kitchen one morning and the reason behind it is deeper than Dick initially thought.

Touching | 12. pushing a strand of hair behind their ear, Dick & Gar - for @wanderingroundwonderland

Also tagging my besties @undertheknightwing and @wonderbatwayne 😘😘😘 and now I'm going to sleep 😂

____________________________________________

Dick liked getting up along with the sun, especially on a day like this when warm rays of sunshine filtered through the wide windows, coloring the inside of the Tower with a soft golden glow. It filled his body with much needed energy for the day and brightened his mind like not many other things could.

He was just flipping another pancake over when his attention was distracted by a long, loud yawn.

"Good morning." Rachel mumbled at him as she entered the kitchen, all messy hair and cute pajamas, heading straight for the coffee pot he had prepared for her beforehand.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He replied cheerfully, placing the pancake on the plate beside him. He reached for a can of whipped cream and squeezed a little on top of it, then decorated the meal with fresh strawberries - the way Rachel liked best. "How'd you sleep?" rolled off his tongue with ease as he offered her a portion while she sat down on the stool across from him, holding her favorite mug full of caffeine drink in her hand.

Rachel, rubbing her eyes to get rid of the rest of sleepiness, gave him a lazy smile and pulled the stack of pancakes towards her. "Fine." she shrugged and eagerly got to eating. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the taste, which caused a wave of warmth swarming Dick's chest and made him smile to himself, pleased with both his growing cooking skills and her reaction. "But do you really have to kick us out of bed so early? I need my beauty sleep, Kory says it's very important."

"Of course she does." Dick muttered under his breath, trying not to pay attention to the fact that his heart twitched as if it was electrocuted at the mention of Kory. "Early morning means you have more time during the day."

"So what if we have more time when we can't even move after early training." a new voice joined their conversation, making Dick and Rachel simultaneously turn their heads in the direction it was coming from.

And Dick fell speechless, frozen with a pancake on a spatula in one hand and a plate in the other.

Gar walked in, stretching with his arms raised behind his head, fingers tangled together tightly. It wouldn't be anything unusual, that was a part of his morning routine, but what threw Dick off guard was that Gar looked… different.

"Good morning to you, too." Dick told him with a grin plastered to his face to mask his confusion when the boy dropped down next to Rachel, eyeing her pancakes longingly. The girl snickered and elbowed him in the arm, seemingly not surprised nor bothered by the sudden change.

Gar must have felt Dick's eyes boring into him because he stilled suddenly and turned to the older man.

"What?"

"Nothing, just…" Dick paused for a moment, not exactly sure what to say. "Uh, what's with the new haircut?" he finally blurted after handing the boy his own plate of pancakes.

Gar's eyes grew large like he just turned into a night owl - or more like one eye, the one Dick could see, because the other one was covered by a curtain of his green hair, brushed down on the side of his forehead. He blinked twice and just kept staring back until Rachel shoved her elbow in his side, harder this time.

"Ow! Uh, yeah… that." the boy stuttered, rubbing the hurting spot while shooting Rachel an annoyed glare. "I, uh… I decided to change things up a bit, experiment… yeah…" his words trailed off into an awkward silence and Gar shoved a big piece of pancake into his mouth to avoid talking. As he reached for a strawberry from a bowl on the counter, he didn't meet Dick's eyes.

He's embarrassed, Dick figured as he watched the boy putting all his focus on eating his breakfast to avoid going more into the topic. Rachel kept observing him as well, her stare warm and sympathetic, though Dick couldn't help but notice a hint of worry behind her eyes.

"Looks good to me." Dick commented finally, earnest and true. The change was unexpected, yes, but if Gar felt like wanting to change something about himself then he had every right to do it. And it really didn't look bad. His words got the boy to lift his eyes back up and he sent him a sheepish grin.

"What's up, people?" Jason announced his presence with an unnecessarily loud shout, making Rachel flinch in response.

"Damn it, Jason. It's 7 am, keep it down, would you?" she grumbled at him when he slid into a free seat on her other side.

He threw a glance at her coffee mug, then almost obnoxiously pushed it closer to her with his index finger "Looks like someone is in desperate need of more caffeine."

Dick couldn't resist a chuckle when she rolled her eyes so hard she must have seen the back of her skull.

"Shut up." she huffed as Jason stole a strawberry from her plate and threw it into his mouth, but then his eyes set on Gar.

"Cool haircut, bro." he said, his lips stretching into a smirk. "But that emo punk fringe was cool back in like 2009, y'know?"

Gar sent a death glare his way. "Very funny, Jason."

"Hey, it looks dope!" The other boy raised his hands in defence, but then leaned in closer again, eyes squinting mischievously. "It makes you look… mysterious. Like you got something to… hide."

This time it was Jason's side that became a target of Rachel's elbow and that plus the way he said it made Dick do a double take. There was an undertone to Jason's voice, an insinuation of a deeper meaning. Gar froze for a moment, unsure how to react. Eventually he opted to end the conversation by throwing Jason an awkward smile and got up from his seat, taking the empty plate with him and rounded the kitchen island to put it in the sink.

"You know, Dick," he started, inching closer to his side. "I checked out online this fighting style you mentioned during our last training, the uh… Okichitaw, yeah. And I'd really like to learn it. Some basics at least."

Dick put the last portion of pancakes - his own - on the plate and turned to the boy with a smile, feeling excitement rising slowly in his chest. He knew what Gar was really trying to do right now - change the course of the conversation, turn it away from him and his hair. Dick couldn't blame him for that. But Gar also wasn't lying, he really was eager to learn and Dick appreciated the fact that he even did a bit of his own research.

"Sure, buddy. We can start right away." he replied instantly and Gar beamed at him, buzzing with happiness. His head twitched in an attempt to get the hair out of his eye. It was clear getting accustomed to that new hairstyle is gonna take longer than the boy expected. Dick chuckled at his annoyed frown when the hair fell back on his face. "Now go get ready, we'll start in an hour."

He reached out to playfully ruffle the boy's hair but when he did, Gar unexpectedly flinched. He froze, his body taut as a string, jaw clenched to bite back a groan of pain. The kitchen suddenly became very quiet, no clattering of cutlery, not even breathing. Dick's hand stilled on the boy's head and he slowly took it away, looking at Gar who again was trying to avoid his eyes. Dick looked back at the other two teens, who sat still as statues in their seats, both nervous and waiting - Rachel was biting her lower lip nervously while Jason's eyes jumped between Dick and Gar, smirk tugging at his lips.

At first he hesitated, but eventually Dick reached out again, slowly and carefully this time and pushed the strand of hair out of the boy's face, tucking what he could behind his ear. The green curtain revealed a nasty long cut travelling in line with his hairline, held together by two small dressing plasters. It already stopped bleeding but it looked deep and was inflamed, the area around it red and swollen.

"Holy shit, Gar! When did this happen?" The man's voice rang out with worry as he stepped closer to take a better look. He brushed his fingers over the wound, his touch feather-light but Gar still twitched a little, face twisting in a grimace. He didn't answer, just looked to the side - right at Rachel - pleading for help with his eyes. Dick followed his gaze.

The girl sighed as she put her fork down and shook her head.

"I told you he was gonna notice." she told her friend. What was even more strange was that Jason actually agreed with her, nodding eagerly.

Confusion is not strong enough of a word to describe what was going on inside Dick's mind right now. How the hell did this happen? Was that during yesterday's training? No, he would notice. After? They had a free evening and he let the kids go out to have some fun in the city. A surge of fierce protectiveness washed over him as his eyes went back to Gar who looked so miserable Dick's heart almost broke on the spot. He let his hand slide under the boy's chin and he gently lifted his face up so their eyes could meet.

"What happened, Gar?" he asked, his voice calm and soft, but not without the tense undertone of someone who is ready to throw some punches with the reason behind that wound. "Who did this to you?"

Gar gulped down, eyes wide in fear and mouth dry, and looked at Rachel again - just a glance, but she noticed anyway.

"Tell him." she encouraged him softly. Gar nodded once and took a deep breath, bracing himself.

"Um, yesterday when… when we were at the mall, me and Rach passed by these guys in SFSU jerseys. Six of them, I think." he started, stumbling through the words. His fingers fumbled nervously with the hem of his t-shirt but he bravely held Dick's gaze as he spoke. "They started catcalling Rachel, saying some gross stuff I am not willing to ever repeat and… and I had to step in."

At first all Dick could hear was static after what he just heard. Then the sense of Gar's words slowly started coming to him and he staggered back.

"What?"

Now it wasn't just protectiveness, it was pure fire raging through Dick's veins. Rachel… getting catcalled? That was unacceptable. Unfathomable. It wasn't just crossing the line, it was breaking it like a dry twig and setting it on fire and whoever did that was really fucking lucky Dick wasn't there to hear it. He let go of Gar's chin and set his hand on his shoulder instead, trying to keep himself from shaking. His other hand already formed into a fist, fingers curled so tightly his knuckles turned white. He instantly looked at Rachel, searching for any signs of something being wrong, a series of questions already forming on his tongue, but she beat him to it and quickly shook her head.

"I'm okay, I swear. Nothing happened."

"You sure?" he insisted, his gut gnawing at him to learn more because maybe they are not telling him everything. "They didn't do anything? You're not hurt? Because I swear to God, if-"

"Dick, I'm okay." was her only reply, soft, quiet and calming.

"She wanted me to ignore them but they were very pushy." Gar continued, his gaze darting between her and Dick. "They surrounded us, one of them got too close to her and got… grabby, so to speak so I punched him."

Grabby? As in… no, that was too much. His fists were now itching to meet that person's face. To rip their insides out and wrap them around their neck. No one dares to lay a damn finger on her. No one.

"Fucking assholes." Jason muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He sent Rachel a sympathetic look and she smiled back at him, thanking silently.

"I would have been fine, I know how to handle myself." she insisted to Gar as she got up from her seat and walked up to him to lay a hand on his shoulder. He instantly turned to her.

"I know, but what was I supposed to do? Just stand there and do nothing? We're Titans now, remember? Men and women not doing nothing."

Dick honestly wanted to hug Gar in that moment, his chest filling with an insane amount of pride. He stood up for her, protected her, even if he got his ass kicked in the end. They can work on that and after what Dick just learned he will make damn sure that they will, but the intention was what mattered the most right now.

He squeezed Gar's shoulder gently and when the boy turned back to him, Dick leaned in to look him in the eyes.

"That was very brave of you, thank you. I'm proud of you, buddy." he said, noticing how Gar's eyes glazed over with tears after hearing the words. The boy chuckled softly, nodding in response. "But how did you get this?" He asked, pointing at his forehead.

"Well, that asshole punched back." Gar stated bluntly, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "He knocked me down pretty hard, I hit my head on the edge of a fountain, y'know that giant one in the main hall. I saw stars, for a moment I couldn't move-"

"You scared the hell out of me." Rachel whispered, sliding her arm around his shoulders.

"Sorry." Gar replied, bumping his head with hers. And immediately regretted it, flinching at the pain it caused to his forehead. "Anyway, after that they left us alone, walked away laughing. And before you ask-" he pointed his finger at Dick, seeing that the man was already gearing up to ask questions. "No, I don't know their names and no, you can't go find them and beat the shit out of them. I know you want to."

Dick snickered and shook his forehead.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Dude, you're basically vibrating with fury right now." Jason told him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ooof, I wouldn't want to be on the other end of that wrath."

Dick decided to ignore his younger brother's remark, but couldn't deny the truth behind it - the fury he felt right now, if unleashed, could be deadly. It pulled a delicate string, knocked on a door he locked when he brought these three kids to San Francisco. It reminded him of the rage and violence of his Robin days. Dick wanted to put it away for good but to be honest it would really come in handy right now.

"I'm sorry," Gar suddenly whispered, which brought Dick back to the present - and caught completely off guard. The boy bowed his head down, letting the hair fall back on his forehead and cover the cut.

"For what?" Dick asked softly, moving his hand to the nape of Gar's neck.

"I should have done more. I would have but the Tiger started showing and… I couldn't risk it so I had to back down."

At first Dick just stared at him, same as Rachel, completely taken aback. Then he opened his arms and smiled at the two teenagers.

"Come here, you two."

He pulled them into his arms, pressing them tightly to his chest. Gar froze at first, surprised but then tucked his face into his shoulder and breathed deeply. Rachel nestled into his other side, he could feel her smiling against his neck when her arms circled his middle. He put his hands in their hair, cradling their heads and pulling them closer as he spoke.

"Gar, you have nothing to apologize for, okay?" he insisted, turning his face to the boy. "You did the right thing. I'm proud of you and you have no idea how happy I am that you were with her back then." When Gar nodded, Dick turned to Rachel and she lifted her head to look at him. "And you. I'm glad you're okay. To be honest, I was scared something like this would happen someday but thankfully Gar was with you. But if it ever happens again, you go straight to me, got it? You shout, you call, whatever means necessary. I'll be there in a heartbeat."

Rachel gave him a single nod, a soft smile turning her lips upwards.

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Dick sighed, finally feeling his anger subsiding and disappearing completely. He pulled back, brushing his palms over the kids' cheeks. He turned to Gar, who again was fiddling with his bangs and reached out to tuck it behind the boy's ear, laughing. "Alright, now let's get you properly patched up, huh? I'm sorry, but whoever did this-" he pointed at the plasters that were barely holding onto the skin. "-did a terrible job."

Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Ouch, harsh."

[nehawriter16]

2020 / 24

There are only 2 things I can do on an airplane – dose up on sleeping meds and pass out, or order one too many cappuccinos, keep my exhausted brain awake, and will it to talk to paper. The flight from JFK was in the afternoon and in the chaos of leaving for the airport early in the morning, I forgot to pack my pills.

Two cappuccinos in, my hands were shaking and begging to be typing out the Mrs. Maisel speed monologue that constantly runs in my head. Even though there is a month left in this year, I decided to do my annual New Years Eve post. Over the last 3 days, I’ve been drilling it down to go from gibberish to slightly readable.

Here it is.

Like the rest of the world, in January, I was blissfully unaware of the shitstorm that would follow. I got into several colleges on the East Coast for a Master’s in Finance degree. Every day, I would race down the stairs with my laptop and show my parents: another admit, another scholarship! On the surface, I was making pro and con lists for each one. Deep down, my heart had already picked Fordham in New York. It was New York. Nothing else would cut it.

The day after I turned 24 in January, I also met my (now ex) boyfriend on the internet. Completely by accident, he saw my profile because a mutual friend followed my writing. Two days later, she texted me and said he would like to talk to me. Did I want to talk to some boy studying in Paris? I was single and bored and already had my year laid out for me, so why wouldn’t I?

It moved quickly. Three months later, we had been speaking every day and were exclusive. We had not hung out in person. It was stupid, but I had never come across anybody who liked me as much as he did. In every relationship I had been in before this, I always knew I was more emotionally involved. I fell in love with his devotion to me – he would stay home (who stays home in Paris!) and choose to spend virtual time with me over going to clubs with his friends. I watched myself become the epicenter of his life and thought – this is how much I’ve always wanted to mean to somebody.

In March when the pandemic hit and India shut down, my father sent a car to pick me up from my internship in Bombay, where I had moved two weeks ago. I didn’t pack so much as my toothbrush – the driver brought me home and I had no idea that it would be months before I’d get to leave again.

Morales stayed high in the beginning – we thought it would end in 21 days, then 2 months, then 5. It has taken over the whole year now, and despite us gridlocking it into “2020,” we all know the first half of 2021 will also be filled with masks and sanitizers and not hugging your friends. I wonder if I will ever settle into somebody’s arms without cringing again.

March melted into April, that melted into one long drawl until suddenly it was August and college was beginning the following week. I found myself refreshing the US consulate’s website absent mindedly one afternoon, and all appointments that had been suspended suddenly showed you a tiny little bar that read “reschedule.” I screamed and clicked.

I had thought I would be spending the year stuck at home, awake and attending classes at odd hours. While my classmates went to happy hours in dive bars in Manhattan, I would be in my bedroom, still chained to my parents’ curfews and ultimatums. But then suddenly, I was standing before a US immigration officer in Bombay, and he was telling me I had been granted my student visa.

All that was left to do was book a flight to New York, and break the news to my boyfriend, who was on his way to my abandoned apartment at this very moment for our first date, 7 months after we first began speaking. He had come home in March when France went into lockdown, and it was starting to feel like a throuple with long distance, the third and very present member in our relationship.

I packed up the belongings I had left there, and we sat across from each other on the double bed. I kissed him first. There were roadblocks, and our personalities and views clashed on so many important things, but I loved him. Two days later, I said: I have to leave for New York in 3 weeks. He didn’t take it well.

In September, I landed at JFK. When the wheels of the plane made contact with the runway, I was smiling behind a mask I’d had on for 16 hours. On the Air Train to Manhattan, I felt a sense of happiness wash over me and toyed with the possibility that maybe I wouldn’t mind if it was just me in this city. I would be okay alone.

I found an apartment, a roommate, signed a lease in a beautiful building in Hell’s Kitchen, walking distance from college. I met lots of people from my class and instantly picked out the ones I wanted to become good friends with. I dove straight into academics and extra curriculars at college – after 5 months of nothing happening, life was suddenly exciting again.

When New York lit up every night, it felt like anything was possible. I started eating better and walking a lot. My hair grew out from the bad haircut I’d gotten the year before. Coffee was no longer just coffee, it was finding a new café and walking through Central Park. Drinks were not just drinks, they were about accidentally stumbling onto a secret bar in the East Village, finding favorite spots in the neighborhood, letting a cute waiter recommend a cocktail to me even though I was perfectly capable of picking one myself.

The boyfriend and I were fighting more than usual. I was getting tired of it. We had discussed a life together, but it was slowly and surely becoming clear to me that I would resent myself for making big compromises for a person who still had a lot of growing up left to do. As New York got cold, I did too – without trying. When one particular argument got really bad, I asked for a break from the relationship. He didn’t like it.

A week later, I woke up to a girl sending me screenshots on Instagram of her conversation with him (pre me asking for a break) on a dating app, and without getting into details, I will tell you it was not a conversation anybody with a girlfriend should have been having. I should have been broken in half on the inside, but now I could finally say, without feeling guilty – this relationship was not working, nobody was happy, and you were so unhappy you thought talking to other women was okay. I spent all of one day drinking with a friend in Central Park and sobbing myself to sleep.

But mostly, what hit me after the initial shock had died down was a tsunami of relief. I felt lighter, freer. I try not to think too hard about the trauma that comes from finding out that the person you think is so devoted to you, and definitely loves you more than you love them (or so you think) is being unfaithful, because it hurts a part of me that is already very bruised from all the things that have happened to me before. So I don’t.

But it was New York. I was young and smart and there was a wine shop down the block that sold $14 bottles of Moscato. I didn’t need much else to know I would be okay. At 20, I would have jumped right back into going on dates every other night to distract myself from what had happened, then never called any of those men back. At 24, this emotional speed bump resulted in a lot of quiet introspection in my bedroom. I spent a lot of time alone, on the phone with friends, and walking around the city. I had learnt to like my own company enough to not fill a suddenly empty void with anybody else’s, even though there have been several tempting offers in this past month, and sometimes, I have succumbed to them, but mostly I am very strict with who deserves my company.

It was nice to spend that second month in New York by myself. I owed absolutely nobody a single minute of my time. No one asked me questions, or called me and expected me to share my day unless I wanted to, and once I had worked hard and cleared out the things from my to do list for the day, time stretched out before me and I had the autonomy to decide the smallest thing down to who to meet, what to eat, how much to sleep.

I didn’t let my academics and ambition suffer – no matter what happens, I never do and I never will. The grades stay up – it’s built into my system. I am back home now and just 2 days in, I find myself wishing I hadn’t left New York. I was starting to build a life I liked there, and the only price I had to pay for it was a 4 pm sunset. It would have been slightly lonely, but I like the time I spend by myself. I worked hard to become like that.

This month, I will see my friends here at home. I’ve missed them. I can’t believe I grew up in this city and I already feel so alienated from it just from 60 days of living away. Is that how badly I wanted to leave?

I might be dramatic and fly back on my 25th birthday, so that I can say, “I was on a flight,” and ignore the slowly expanding bubble of dread that comes with turning that old. I like the ambiguity of airports and I’m the sort of inherently sad person who would love to be alone and unreachable on my birthday.

I acknowledge that my problems this year have been so small in the face of those of us who have lost family members, contracted the virus, had to give up internships or had jobs taken from us, been torn away from family, or had to make it through this alone.  

I feel almost guilty that good things have happened to me in a year that has predominantly been bad for almost everyone else. I feel apologetic, even though from 2017 to 2019, I was treated like life’s sick joke so I should deserve these good things that I worked hard for.

I definitely feel myself growing up, though. Emotionally I find I have a clearer idea of what I want from relationships and friendships, and I don’t second guess cutting off anybody who doesn’t serve that purpose or messes with my mental peace. I still have days when self-doubt comes over for a cup of tea, leaves me weak in the knees, but most days are free of it. I am also moving out of that chameleon phase where I mirrored what I thought a room full of new people would want from me, and I am unapologetically myself, irrespective of who’s watching.

Last year I remember wishing for something stupid, like “I wish there was somebody to kiss on New Years Eve,” because I’ve never had anybody to smack lips with when it’s midnight. This year, I don’t care. I’ll kiss myself in the mirror, for all I care. I love her. She’s my homie.

It’s been a weird year. I know who I was in 2019, and I remember wondering if I was proud of her. Things were still in purgatory then. But I steered my life and brought it back on track. This year, I am proud of myself without doubting it.

There’s no measuring scale for personal growth, but if there was, I feel at least a couple of inches taller in 2020.

[lutraverselemonde]

having a good nose

Time: November - February Place: Various Death Eaters’ Houses Status: Self-Para, with help from: @sectumsmpra

4th of November 1981 

Lu stood in the back of the room, looking pretty. 

They were good at that, so they didn’t complain. Of course, there were activities more exciting than just standing (no details needed) but the patronage they’d found in England with a certain Mister Avery was too new to decline invitations already. And while those functions were the single most boring events Lu had ever been forced to attend, Mister Avery had his way to make at least the ending a little sweeter.

Mister Avery was -- in his own right -- a good man, albeit perhaps not the wittiest of the bunch. This certainly contributed to the boredom perpetuated by those functions: half a dozen to a dozen old men sitting around in a smoke-filled room, basically jerking each other off verbally for a couple of hours. Discussing their recent achievements in what they called the War; sharing secrets they’d given the Dark Lord; waxing poetry about how their social status was being compromised by the ‘invasion of the mud’; making new plans for the future about how to really show the Phoenix people what pain was. It was all there. It was all ridiculous. And Lu stood in a corner, looking pretty.

As always. Or, well, almost always. Because while this group of men was sometimes larger, sometimes smaller, with various guests attending only occasionally, they were still always the same faces. And it was today, in the middle of one of such talks about the Phoenix people that the door opened and a black little creature strutted in. Pale skin, haughty chin, and a nose akin to Cleopatra’s in those comics. He introduced himself quietly to the people present then stood somewhere quietly as well, listening, his black eyes on whoever was speaking. Lu noted that it was a good nose. 

They’d always preferred bigger noses to the small ones. There was something royal about a nose that new to impose on a face, the way a King would know to impose on a country. In women more so than in men, actually, but it all depended on the haircut worn along with it. And this little creature had no interest in seeing a good hair designer any time soon, did he? It looked like he’d gotten stuck somewhere in the 70’s, among some goths. Or perhaps even earlier. Surely even 60’s John Lennon wouldn’t want that haircut back. Hadn’t he died recently? Ah, at least they knew now who’d stolen his sense of fashion. Hilarious! Lu let out a chuckle.

Goth Boy’s eyes jumped to them immediately. No one else had noticed the laugh but Goth Boy had reacted immediately and Lu’s shoulders straightened with surprise. Their own eyes stayed on him in return, knowing well that flinching and quickly looking away was way more conspicuous than just standing still. Looking pretty. But Goth Boy seemed to have no interest in how pretty they were anyway, and a shadow of a frown later, he’d turned back to listen to the conversation. Lu hummed.

What a good nose.

9th of December

Goth Boy began showing up more often now, but none of the men seemed surprised to see him join. There were never any introductions. He just strutted in, stood or sat, sometimes conversed, and then left again at the end of it all, without proper greetings or goodbyes. No one seemed to pause at that while also shifting in their seats just uncomfortably enough to signal that they were not really a friend of his presence. It was weird. And Lu loved every second of it. 

“Who’s he?” they had asked Mister Avery a couple of weeks in. “No one you need to mind.” “Is he your boss?” Mister Avery laughed. “No, but he’s … close to my … boss.” He never said the Dark Lord’s name but that didn’t make it any less obvious about who he was speaking of. Lu cooed. “Lord Voldemort has a boyfriend?” “Sh!” Mister Avery flinched and covered Lu’s mouth, looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard them. “Don’t … ever.” Interesting. There apparently was more to learn about Goth Boy than initially assumed. Not now, though. Not through Mister Avery. Slowly, Lu removed the hand and redirected his attention to their very capable lips.

If not lovers, perhaps father and son? Lu had still not met the Dark Lord, nor did any of the men at the function ever properly speak of him. For all they knew, he was already an old man with grandkids running around his ankles. Perhaps Goth Boy was one of them? Perhaps that was why he felt so unattainable at those functions? Inherited dignity? But, no. He didn’t look like he benefited from any form of oligarchy. Nor did he look power-hungry like some sons Lu had met here. If he wanted to attend those functions to scare those men into obedience, he’d do it differently. As it were, it looked as if he was merely trying to observe. 

Observe Lu? Goth Boy’s eyes were on them again. Lu smiled. He looked away. 

16th of December

He smelled of the greenhouses at Beauxbaton.

This was the closest Lu had ever gotten to him. And they’d not been the one to ‘get’ anywhere. It was Goth Boy who’d strutted in and found a spot next to Lu. Standing with his hands behind his back, chin high, quiet. Observing. Lu understood now why the men always seemed to stiffen (in the not-fun way) when he was close. He could perfectly ignore you and yet it felt like he was judging you. 

Herbs and chemicals and potions’ steam. 

“The acoustic’s good here.” His voice was barely above a murmur, yet it reached Lu all too easily, as though magically redirected. The words came out smoothly, quickly, but without haste; attached to one another as if they were made of honey, too, in their own way. Lu took a breath, considering the implications of that sentence and all the ways this conversation could go, then settled on a simple laugh full of charm: If only it weren’t so boring.” The black eyes jumped over to them. Piercing, they caught Lu in their spot, and froze the laugh still on their face. “Well, it’s true,” they breathed out, accentuating their French accent, “I wish they’d at least provide champagne and not just whisky.” Goth Boy only raised his eyebrows in disdain and was about to turn when Lu quickly held out a hand: “Lu Travers, Wixtraordinaire and maker of dreams.” Goth Boy hesitated, then took the hand, though without kissing it. “Severus Snape.” Lu turned the hand in theirs, taking in the sight. Stained fingers. Potioneer. Then smiled. “Good nail bed, congratulations.” 

23rd of December

There were some functions that were more akin to parties, and others, when the group was smaller, where it was more like a meeting. Today was one of the former, which allowed Lu to float from group to group and listen in easily. They’d stand there, looking pretty, and take note of all that was being said, and when someone noticed their presence they put up a sweet smile and deflected any questions with jokes. Then they’d move to the next group.

And usually it was fun and easy and Lu spent no second thought on how they appeared or behaved but that night? Two black eyes were on them the entire time. 

No one of noble or pure blood ever noticed the servants. So who was this potioneer who did not care or need to integrate while also being anything but one of them? 

At the end of the party, Lu handed Goth Boy their business card. “If ever you want to see some more of me.” A wink, a turn, a pause, an addition: “Of course, you could also start coming to the Sunday morning meetings. Seeing how they’re more muted, you might enjoy them more. But in case you have something better to do, on Sunday mornings that is, don’t hesitate to write me.” A smile towards the card, then they disappeared.

Goth Boy never wrote, of course, but he did show up at the next Sunday morning meeting. Once. And then never again. 

13th of January, 1982

Things had changed. What had started as a side-game had now become Lu’s mission: the destruction of Lord Voldemort. If he wanted to kill for fun? Fine. If he wanted to kill half-breeds like Lu’s friends? Fine. If he wanted to kill Muggleborns like Lu themself? Fine. But what he’d done on January first, when he’d killed innocent, uninvolved Muggles? That went too far. 

Attending those functions was now a matter of life and death. They’d gather as much information as they could find and bring them to the Order, lay it all out for them, help them infiltrate and win. And what had once been boring speeches of men thinking too highly of themselves now became Lu’s greatest point of interest. No word was lost on them, no thought or reaction. Everything those men did was going to be weaponised against them, it was only a matter of time, Lu swore it to themself. To themself and to Urhie.

“You look less bored tonight.” It was Goth Boy’s voice, Lu didn’t have to look to know. “There’s a pretty big hole in their plan. I’m waiting to see if someone finally notices.” “You mean the fact that if they disable disapparition, their own guests will also be caught inside?” Lu’s lips curled into a smirk. “So you’ve noticed.” Their eyes met, briefly. “Will you tell them?” Goth Boy shrugged. “Let’s see how long it takes them.” Lu’s smirk sharpened and for a moment they took in the sight of his profile again. What a good nose. 

3rd of February 

“So what does a Muggleborn do amongst the ranks of the Dark Lord?” But Lu only received a dismissive scoff at that. “How did you get in here?” “Mister Avery’s study? I work here. Sometimes.” Goth Boy responded with a look of disdain and shoved the drawer close again. “If I answer you, will you not report me?” Lu shrugged. “Deal.” “I’m not a Muggleborn.” “Oh! Boo,” Lu laughed and joined Goth Boy by Mister Avery’s desk, sitting on it with their legs crossed and their feet dangling delicately. “Is the truth worth nothing anymore these days?” Goth Boy paused and just fixated them with his expression haughty disinterest and eyes of all too much interest. Lu grinned. “Don’t try. There’s no use.” He faltered. His eyes widened, his shoulder straightened, then he seemed to catch himself and leaned back in his hips. “What makes you think I’m a Muggleborn?” “You shook my hand like one. You attend Sunday morning mass, a Christian habit. You clearly don’t know how to dress like a Pureblood.” The last one sounded the most judgemental but it wasn’t the one that drew the most reaction from Goth Boy. “You’re … very wrong.” “Am I?” Goth Boy sighed. “I have other appointments on Sunday Morning and I shook your hand because … you extended it.” “But not to be shaken.” Goth Boy frowned. “To be kissed?” Goth Boy was still frowning. Lu let out a loud sigh, both in exasperation and realisation: “You’re just straight! I’m an idiot, I should’ve known. It was the whole Robert Smith about you that distracted me, no, please, don’t mind me, I’m going. Have fun snooping around, I hope you enjoy your very, very grim life.” With that, they disappeared.

10th of February

Four more days. 

Lu had given the house plan of the Rosier’s to the Order. In return, they were assigned a mission: play the grand Lady Bullstrode’s escort with a girl called Dorcas Meadowes and snoop around the manor for Silver Masks and the like. They knew it was an honour to be assigned to a mission -- and the party was surely going to be grandiose! -- but one thing was still making them feel rather uneasy.

“They still haven’t fixed the hole in their plan, have they?” Goth Boy shook his head. “If the Phoenix Order makes it inside somehow and a fight breaks out, they’ll all be caged in there like animals.” Lu brushed their fingers over their lips, thinking, almost nervous. “Are you going?” “Me?” Goth Boy gave it a nod. “I’m not-...” I’m not in the Order. But of course, you didn’t have to be in the Order to attend the party. On the contrary. “I will, yes. On duty.” Goth Boy gave it another nod. Lu didn’t think he’d have more to say, but more came, a long moment later and almost suddenly: “If I were to attend the party, I’d wait for the end of this function to throw a quick glance at their plans usually left on this table. Check the warding system beforehand. See if there’s … holes.” Lu’d said nothing to that.

Perhaps they should’ve thanked him, seeing how on that night of the 14th of February, his suggestion was what saved their life. 

[thirsty4theextraordinary]

Everything Burns - Chapter 13

Pairing: Ledger Joker X OC

Warnings: Self-harm, cutting, blood, violence, explosions. 

Word count: 4490

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 l Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 13: Star-Crossed Lovers

She woke in her own apartment for the first time in a while and she stretched out in bed almost expecting to feel him next to her, but of course, he was not. She pulled herself out of bed and made her way into the living room, she switched on the TV while she made herself a smoothie before she sat in front of the news.

"Gotham's very own DA has called a press conference today to unmask Batman, we will go live to that conference in just under an hour." Scarlett almost choked on her drink as she watched, the Bat was going to show his true face. Without another sip she ran to get changed she put on her costume and makeup in record time. 

She pushed on her motorcycle helmet as she let the cat out and locked the door behind her before dashing down the stairs to the parking garage, below the apartment block she lived in. She was up to 90 MPH through the streets in no time and arrived at the warehouse no less than 20 minutes later.

She jumped off the bike, and pulled her helmet off as she stormed through the door, The Joker looked up from whatever he was doing and grinned at her.

"Morning Jester," he called happily, grinning brightly at her.

"Dent's called a press conference to unmask the Bat," she exclaimed her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

"What?!" he yelled, with a mad laugh.

"They're gonna show it on the TV in the next ten minutes or so, I think," she said as she pulled the remote from one of the goons and began to flip through the channels, she felt Joker's presence come up behind her and she held in the shiver, that threatened to make her swoon at his closeness.

She stopped on the GCN channel and watched as the two new presenters made some kind of lame joke before they went serious and talked a little before the screen showed the inside of a conference building, and a little LIVE icon came up into the corner of the screen.

The stage was empty for a minute before they watched Harvey Dent make his way onto the stage. The Joker shooed a goon from a chair before sitting heavily in front of the tiny old TV. Jester turned up the volume, as she sat on the arm of his chair, and as if by instinct his arm encircled her waist with his hand coming to rest on her thigh.

The crowd on the TV went quiet and Harvey Dent began to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming" he began and the Joker sat back in his chair a little more.

"I've called this press conference for two reasons. Firstly, to assure the citizens of Gotham that everything that can be done over the Joker killings is being done," said Dent.

The crowd on the television erupted into shouts and heckles.

"Jester, I'm famous," said Joker looking up at her with big eyes and she laughed loudly at him, he simply grinned.

"Secondly, because The Batman has offered to turn himself in." Dent continued. Joker began to jump up and down in his seat excitably.

"But first let's consider the situation. Should we give in to this terrorist's demands?" Dent continued.

"That's not very nice, he's just name-calling now," said Jester and the Joker cackled wildly. She made a mock sad face at him, her bottom lip sticking out.

"Do we really think he's gonna..." Dent said but was cut off as a reporter called out from the crowd but they couldn't see the source of the voice as the camera view stayed on Harvey.

"You'd rather protect an outlaw vigilante than the lives of citizens?" called the voice.

"The Batman is an outlaw. But that's not why we demand he turn himself in, we're doing it because we're scared. We've been happy to let Batman clean up our streets until now" began Dent again.

"Things are worse than ever" shouted a man in the audience and again Harvey stopped.

"Yes, they are. But the night is darkest just before the dawn. And I promise you, the dawn is coming." Dent said and the audience fell quiet, the Joker stopped his bouncing a grin still on his face.

"One day, the Batman will have to answer for the laws he's broken. But to us, not to this madman" said Dent and Jester felt the Joker shifted in his seat next to her. Muttering "No, I'm not" to himself quietly.

"No more dead cops!" shouted a voice on the TV and Jester turned her attention back to the box.

"He should turn himself in!" shouted another voice, a raucous of noise erupted from the rest of the crowd on the TV.

"So be it. Take the Batman into custody," said Dent and the crowd fell silent.

"I am the Batman," declared Dent.

"What!?" Jester exclaimed and The Joker began to hysterically laugh as they watched two cops handcuffed and led Harvey Dent away.

"I thought that may have been the case, the way he threw himself out the window after that girl," said the Joker laughing, his voice higher than ever.

"Right boys, change of plan, we are gonna kill Harvey Dent" shouted The Joker as he stood and began to ready the men and make plans. By the afternoon things were ready he was just waiting for the right moment to attack Dent.

Around 3, Jester had retired to Joker's room, having found his coat she curled up on the bed wrapping his coat around her as she breathed in his scent. She heard the door open but she did not look up her eyes closed as she held the fabric to her face.

"Jester, what are you doing?" he asked and Scarlett sat up.

"Worrying" she admitted holding the coat tighter in her grasp.

"About what?" He asked. She sat up and looked at him with big eyes before she sighed.

"I was just thinking about if something goes wrong, what if Harvey isn't the Bat. I'm just worried about you getting hurt or worse." She said quietly before she flopped back down onto the bed melodramatically.

"I'm not" he cackled and she rolled her eyes. 

"And as for the bat not being Dent, I'm hoping so. Be kinda boring if it really is Dent." Said Joker, as he sat down on the side of the bed and looked down at her.

"I don't want you to get hurt," she said her voice slightly muffled as she held the coat to her face again.

"I'm not planning on it," he said and again she rolled her eyes. She rolled off the bed, leaving the coat there and went to leave. He caught her hand and pulled her round to face him, he pulled her slightly to sit on his lap and she complied.

Delicately she pushed his hair out of his face, and he closed his eyes in contentment. She kissed his lips sweetly before she pulled away.

"Just promise me you will look after yourself, at least try to," she said softly and he opened his eyes.

"I promise," he grunted and she grinned before she kissed him again. He pushed her off his lap like a piece of rubbish and left her in the room alone, taking his coat with him. She headed to the bathroom and caught her reflection in the mirror.

The scar on her eye was almost completely hidden under her grease paints. She was disappointed, she rather liked it. After all, he had given it to her. It was like a gift and a memento of their first night together. She reached a hand up, though it had not completely healed it no longer needed butterfly strips to hold it together. She spied the razor blade on the side of the sink and picked it up in her hand. The blade was cold and she twisted it in her grasp and it reflected the light onto the wall. She lifted it to the bottom of the scar on her eye and without much thought, she dragged the blade down her face. It sliced into her skin like butter and went deeper than she thought it would. The pain was rather refreshing but as the initial pain turned to a strong string she pulled the blade away. The air got to the wound and began to bleed. The blade had ripped parts of her skin so the cut was not entirely straight. It now reached from the bottom of her eyelid of her right eye to the middle of her right cheek. She pushed a tissue to the wound and held it there watching as the blood seeped into the white paper staining it red.

She spotted his reflection in the mirror, she had not even heard him return and she decided not to turn to him.

"Making an improvement?" his voice asked her sarcastically, his face gave away no emotion at all.

"Don't you like it?" she asked and he only shrugged.

"Why did you do it? To be like me?" he asked, a grimace coming to his face. 

"Yes. No. I'm not sure really. I wanted to keep my scar from the other night as a memento of that night, and it was fading so I just thought I'd, I'd bring it back" she said weakly.

"Look at me," he demanded and she turned to him and removed the tissue from her face.

"I rather like it, It suits you, Jester," he said with a grin and she smiled madly. Most people expect this kind of reaction from their boyfriend to their new hairstyle, but to Jester in her twisted mind, this felt no different than a new haircut.

After that she reapplied her face paint, it stung greatly and stuck disgustingly into the wound. She headed downstairs with him, the clown pair split up and Jester headed over to the weapons beach. She began searching for a new knife for her boot.

"Jester I need you" he called a little while later as she was looking over some of the guns on the table and she came to him quickly.

"Come with me," he said as he led her into one of the back rooms of the warehouse. A fat thug sat on a metal table in the middle of an empty room. There was a tray of medical equipment and Scarlett looked to the Joker as he handed her a medical mask. She slipped it on and he grinned at her.

"Kilson, I've decided to do something about those voices in your head," said the Joker turning to the fat man on the table.

"I'm gonna go inside and replace them with bright lights, Like Christmas." said The Joker laughing wildly and Kilson grinned at him.

"Like Christmas," he repeated and The Joker simply laughed, before he lifted a heavy bat from beside him and hit Kilson hard over the head, knocking him out cold.

"So Nurse Jester, I need this," he said, pulling a device up to show her. It was some kind of bomb connected to a mobile phone. There were enough explosives to take down a house and she laughed through her medical mask.

"In this" he continued pointing to the unconscious fat man on the table.

"But I need him to survive long enough to get incarcerated with myself," said The Joker and Jester nodded. Though she didn't fully understand, she trusted the Joker to know what he was doing.

She moved over to Kilson and moved his shirt up, his fat belly wobbling as she did, she pulled on a pair of medical gloves that were left on the tray. The Joker moved round the opposite side of the table to watch. She picked up the scalpel and touched it to Kilson's skin, she had never operated on her own, but how hard could it be.

She dragged the scalpel along the skin and it instantly began to weep red. Her hand slipped slightly causing the cut to not be as straight as she would have liked, but she ignored it as she pulled the skin open. She picked up the device from the side and began to stuff the explosives into the skin of Kilson's abdomen. It made an odd squelching noise as she pushed hard and the explosive finally slipped into the cut she had made, she lay the rest of the device including the phone along the muscle wall. She looked up to the Joker for approval and he shot her a yellow grin.

She pulled the hook needle and thick surgical thread up and began to make X shape stitches along the cut pulling the skin tight around the device.

When she was done she stepped away and inspected her handy work before she pulled off her gloves and mask and threw them onto Kilson's still unconscious body.

"So can I know why that was needed now?" She asked and Joker cackled again.

"I'm gonna go after Harvey, but I'm gonna get caught either after or before I kill him, that bit I haven't decided yet. But once I'm in Gordon's fortress I'm gonna use chubbo here to break out and take Lau with me" said the Joker quickly and Jester nodded.

"Now if I don't kill Dent then that's when the fun starts. One of Gordon's men will pick him up to take him home, except they won't be Gordon's men they will be mine and Dent won't be going home. Neither will his girlfriend and that's where you come in, Jester. I need you to make sure Dent's girl is nice and comfortable in her new residence" he laughed wildly and Jester joined in.

Later he had a call come in that the cops were moving Dent to central holding and quickly the Joker moved the boys out. Leaving Jester with the last few men.

"Right we are playing a waiting game here, one half of you are going for Dent but that may be a way off yet as he's still in an armoured truck heading for central holding. But the boss is hopefully gonna stop that and hand him over to us or he's gonna get picked up by one of Maroni's cops." Jester began turning to the last 5 men that had stayed behind with her.

"So you three head over to where the boss told you to wait, and remember if the boss gets caught, stay out of the way. Then head straight over to Avenue X, at Cicero to await your delivery." Scarlett said splitting the group.

"You two come with me. We are going to Avenue X to check everything is good to go before we head to 250 52nd street to await our delivery" said Jester. Since the carving fiasco, the goons had followed her orders much more easily, and she seemed to have much more control over them.

They followed her out to the van, the goons adorned they masks, before they took off towards Avenue X.

When they arrived she helped check that all the barrels were set up and the phone was working before they jumped back in the van and hurried to 250 52nd street. They passed the fire engine that was a flame to lead the police down onto the lower street and away from air support.

She set up the place before she began her long wait, she sat listening to the police radio, waiting for some kind of sign and praying nothing would go wrong.

"Obstruction ahead, obstruction ahead!" called the police radio Jester sat up in her seat.

"Finally" she cried.

"All units divert down onto Lower Fifth, I repeat, exit down"

"It's really a shame this thing doesn't have a picture" Jester laughed to herself as she laid back down across the front seats to listen to the radio.

"Listen we need back up, we got company" called an anxious voice over the radio and Jester let out a laugh the Joker would have been proud of.

"This is better than the movies" she squealed as the goons gathered around the window of the van to listen.

There was radio silence for a long time after and Jester sat up and hit the radio as though it were playing up, she needed news she needed to know how things were going.

She picked up the long-range walkie talkie and pressed the talk button.

"Hey hey J, how's it going?" she called in cheerily and for a second there was nothing then his voice crackled over the air.

"Bit busy at the minute gorgeous, but we're having fun" she left him alone after that not wanting to distract him at all. But his voice crackled over the air again, not long after.

"Okay rack em up. Rack 'em up, rack 'em up, rack 'em up" she knew he was talking to the three she had sent off earlier to meet up with the helicopter, with his own man driving the swat van it was easy to put the cops where he needed them to be.

"On our way with the girl" called a new voice over the walkie-talkie and Jester sat up excitedly.

It was about 10 minutes after that the two goons turned up with an unconscious Rachel Dawes. The cops had picked her up and delivered her to the goons before they had headed over.

"Get her inside and connected before she wakes up," Jester said as she pocketed the walkie-talkie and headed inside. She supervised as they handcuffed Rachel to the chair before connecting her up to the barrels. Jester turned the phone on and activated the clock on the bomb to Midnight whether anyone was in the chair or not. As she went to leave, Rachel stirred.

Scarlett moved behind her so that Rachel could not see her and waited.

"Where am I?" Rachel stuttered.

"Why does that matter?" Asked Scarlett her voice slightly higher than usual.

"What do you want from me?" Rachel asked frantically, trying to turn her head to see Jester.

"Nothing, really. You are just a part of the game" Jester cackled and Rachel moaned slightly.

"What's gonna happen, what are you talking about, game?" Rachel cried her panic setting in.

"Well on the other end of that phone in front of you is someone you love, but here's the clincher only one of you will survive and we are going to let your friends decide who it will be" Jesters laugh echoed around the room. Rachel screamed in anger and she pulled at the cuffs that bound her to the chair.

"Let me go" she screamed.

"Now that would ruin the game, wouldn't it?" asked Jester laughing again before she left the room, the goons following behind as they locked the door to the room and left.

The 5 of them got back into their vehicles and headed off. Jester headed off in the van to Gotham Police station to wait for The Joker to break out, she kept the goons in the back of the van so they would not become wise to her plan.

She hid around the corner and she waited patiently for news.

"News just in the Jokers has been taken into custody and we go live now to John Pillion, who is at the scene with Gotham's DA Harvey Dent" Came the voice over the radio as Scarlett flipped through the radio stations. Jester cheered from the driver's seat.

"Mr Dent! How does it feel to the biggest hero in Gotham?" called the voice over the radio and Jester sat up a little in her chair.

"No, I'm no hero. Gotham's finest, they're the heroes." Dent's voice came over the airways.

"But you and your office have been working with the Batman all along." stated the presenter John.

"No, but I trusted him to do the right thing," said Dent

"Which was?" came John's voice.

"Saving my ass" replied Dent.

After that, they cut back to the regular news show and Jester jumped from the van. She had abandoned the van down a back road, explosives set to blow it up in 1 minute, to destroy any evidence and the goons in the back. She had told them to wait for her to return, before locking the van with them inside. As she arrived at the police station a few streets away she heard the explosion of the van and the car alarms from the shock wave.

She waited by the back of the station and she spotted the police cars pulling up and the cops dragging a nonchalant looking Joker inside. She wasn't sure how long she would be waiting so she made herself-comfortable, it was gonna be a long night. After a while, she found her way onto the roof and round herself a skylight she could spy through. Inside she could see Gordon's cage, the Joker was sat on his own on a bench only a few other men were in there with him and the rest of the goons were in a cage together. The Joker looked to be completely unfazed by his predicament as he sat, his hand clasped together, they had taken his coat and jacket. Jester was glad to see Kilson was still standing but he was holding his stomach. Though she could not hear what he was staying, she imaged he was moaning about the pain. She was surprised he hadn't passed out or had some kind of shock-induced seizure. She moved her position a little, not wanting to put too much weight on the glass of the skylight.

A little while later The Joker was moved out of the cage into another room to be interrogated. Giving up on her vantage point and not knowing when Kilson would blow she decided to move to a safer location. She couldn't find where the Joker was taken and so waited patiently in the alley behind the station. Something caught her eye and she looked up to see Batman jumping onto the roof she had just been on, before disappearing down the side. She prayed Jack would not be foolish, she did not want the Bat to hurt him too much. She knew Jack wouldn't mind and would most defiantly laugh but the idea of him getting hurt made her stomach churn.

Around 10 minutes later she watched as both the Bat and Gordon rushed out of the police department, and headed in opposite directions Bat in the direction of Dent and the cops to Rachel. She found this odd as Bats, clearly had a soft spot for Rachel so why would he go to Dent, unless he thought he was going to Rachel. She let out a loud Joker-like laugh, he had swapped the addresses.

She was blown off her feet a few minutes later as the entire MCU exploded, the windows being blown out, leaving the building in a smouldering mess. She scrambled to her feet as she rushed around, to the side door of the station. She shot the hinge with the gun she had taken from a goon and kicked in the door. She spotted Joker straight away and coughed loud enough for him to hear. He turned and looked at her with a skin splitting grin on his face.

"There's my Jester" he cooed, his hair looked a little dishevelled as he had been knocked down by the shockwave too, but otherwise he looked relatively undamaged.

She grinned as she began her search through the paperwork on the floor. She stepped over the bodies of injured and unconscious cops. She felt him touch her and she stopped in her tracks as his arms encircled her waist as he purred into her ear. She giggled as he pressed a kiss into her shoulder, some of the goons that had survived the explosion emerged slowly through the door covered in dust. The Joker moved away from her, his fingertips brushing along her softly as they parted and he began his search for Lau.

She pulled the files up on the computer they had made of the Joker and deleted them completely before she smashed up the computer. She made her way into the cells and heard the Joker moving around, she spotted him pick up some keys from the side before he walked over to a cell, Lau sat in the corner of the cell looking very timid.

"Hello there" cooed the Joker, his voice light as though telling a joke. He unlocked the cell door and still, Lau said nothing. The Joker motioned some of his goons over and told them to get Lau in a cop car. Lau didn't scream as much as Jester thought he would as the goons dragged him away. The Joker came up behind her as she was rifling through the police's confiscated stash, pocketing a few guns as she did. He had his coat and jacket in his hand as he looked over her shoulder. His other hand moved to touch the bare skin of her neck. She purred as his hand moved down her back until he was at her bum, he slapped her hard on the arse and she let out a little squeal. He growled at her as he pushed her into the table in front of her with his hips. He leant his head over her shoulder and bit her earlobe sharply, she let out a little giggle and again he growled. He ground his hips into her bum and she pushed back into him.

"Ready when you are boss" came a voice from the door, The Joker stepped away from her and she groaned at the sudden loss of contact. The Joker laughed a dark laugh and she turned to him.

"Come on gorgeous, let's go somewhere we can have a little fun," he said, raising his eyebrows to her and she blushed furiously and nodded like a moron.

They jumped into the back of the cop car that was waiting and it took off at speed. Two other cop cars followed. They rode under blue lights the whole way. She wondered if Gordon had worked it out by now or not. But surely when his officers woke from their little 'nap' they would call it in so it couldn't be long now.

The Joker hung out the window as they raced down the roads and something about his actions turned her on even more. Jester crossed her legs trying to relieve her growing arousal. She laughed when he finally pulled himself back in and he looked at her like she was crazy. She really was but who was he to judge.

--------

Thanks so much for reading, please reblog and like if you enjoyed. 

[nekojitachan]

Okay, I just felt like writing something Halloween-inspired. This is the start of something new (I KNOW, FINISH SOME OTHER STUFF).  I’m getting back to RP, I promise, but I wanted to post something since I haven’t lately, so here’s this.

Warnings for Mary (so yes, abusive relationship), and mentions of child abuse, mentions of the abusive pasts of our boys.

The Ghost in You

*******

Andrew gave what passed as a glare from him at Wymack as he stalked into the man’s office. “How the hell am I supposed to help Peter Minkin if I can’t understand him, hmm?” he asked in a deceptively mild tone of voice as he slapped his latest case file onto his boss’ desk and narrowly missed sending a pile of paperwork toppling over as a result.

Used to him by that point, Wymack didn’t even flinch or pause in drinking his coffee, merely gave Andrew the finger as if gesturing for ‘one minute’ while he finished his needed influx of caffeine before speaking. “Because that’s why I hired a damn translator last month? Which a shitty little maggot like you would know if you’d attended the supposedly mandatory staff meetings.” Wymack glowered as he folded his tattooed arms on top of his messy desk.

Andrew waved aside the usual gripe as he snatched up the abandoned file, partially mollified that he’d have a way to communicate with the kid. “That’s what Kevin’s ten page summary emails are for,” and ignored – he relied upon Renee to fill him in on any necessary details, but she was currently on sabbatical, off helping out some old Peace Corps friends with a project for a couple of months. Hmm, he had to wonder if the new translator had anything to do with the ‘hot piece of ass’ Nicky had been going on about lately, which was even more reason for Andrew to ignore his cousin. “I’m scheduled for a preliminary meeting with Peter in half an hour, the translator better be there,” Andrew said as he turned to leave the cluttered office.

“It’s already on Josten’s schedule,” Wymack called out. “You’d know that, too, if you read your damn emails!”

That was another familiar complaint which was waved aside as Andrew left, intent on having some more caffeine himself while he checked for any important updates to Peter’s files before the appointment; on the way to the kitchen and then to his own office (a lot less cluttered and disorganized than Wymack’s), he ran into Nicky and Robin, yet managed to fend them off by waving the thick folder in the air. Nicky grimaced, clearly in the mood to talk and unhappy to be denied, while Robin, finally cleared to work on cases of her own after shadowing Andrew for the past few months, smiled and wished him a good day.

It was such a hopeful thought, but highly unrealistic; the children brought to Palmetto Services (nicknamed the Foxhole because of all the stuffed foxes scattered around the place and the playful versions painted on the walls in an effort to soothe and cheer up the kids) were abused and/or traumatized, were the ones who’d been fucked over by the ‘official’ child services system in one way or another and so it had been decided that they needed more specialized attention (that they’d be someone else’s problem).

It meant that Andrew was working with kids who often suffered through the same thing he’d gone through as a child, the same pain and abuse and neglect… and he got to end the horror for them. He got to make it better, but it took a lot of work, a lot of patience and digging and effort, and he knew firsthand the nightmares would still continue even though the monsters had been vanquished at last (at least those monsters).

At least, he did everything he could to help the children assigned to him, so the new translator – Neil Josten – better not fuck things up with Peter Minkin. From what the files said about the boy, he’d been taken into custody from a violent father up on various charges with no sign of the mother, and could barely speak any English. The boy was malnourished and bore repeated signs of abuse (Aaron had done a thorough physical on Peter, and Andrew could tell from the sloppiness of the handwritten notes attached to the copies of x-rays and bloodwork that his brother was furious about the results).

He skimmed the newly added details from his brother and what Seth had been able to unearth about the boy’s father, everything committed to memory, then went to the one prepared play room where Peter would be brought for their first session. It only took a minute for Andrew to reach it since it was right down the hall, and he was surprised to find someone there already.

The person was a young man around his age, perhaps a little younger, and had a couple of inches on Andrew’s five feet. The dark grey sweater he wore hung on his lean frame, the sleeves falling past his hands, and dark brown hair fell onto a handsome face bearing a faded scar down the right side, obscuring what seemed to be brown eyes. “Andrew Minyard?” the young man asked, his voice a quiet tenor and accent bland, lacking in any regional indicators.

“Neil Josten,” Andrew said by way of an answer, and noticed that Josten didn’t offer a handshake nor seem offended when Andrew didn’t do the same. “How’s your Russian?”

“Good,” Josten said then fell silent as he took a step back to lean against one of the bookshelves containing a multitude of stuffed animals.

Not a talker, which seemed odd for a translator, but that was fine with Andrew, who wasn’t much of a talker himself. He checked his phone to see that Abby was bringing Peter, along with a surreptitious glance at his associate; despite the shaggy haircut and baggy clothes, Nicky wasn’t too far off about Josten.

It was just a casual observation while he waited for the kid.

“And here we are,” Abby said as she arrived with Peter Minkin, a bright smile on her face and ash-blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Even though she was the head nurse practitioner for Palmetto Services and helped run the medical offices where Aaron and Katelyn interned, she often escorted the new or more skittish children around (her or Renee) since she projected ‘safe’ so well with her friendly smile, the colorful scrubs she wore and her genuine kindness.

As for Peter, he appeared small for his seven years (probably the malnutrition), his dark brown eyes huge in his face and his light brown hair cropped close to his skull. He was dressed in a Winnie the Pooh t-shirt and jeans that were a little too long for him, and was obviously reluctant to come near two strange men.

Before Andrew could do anything, Josten moved away from the bookshelf with a stuffed Pooh in his hands and knelt a safe distance from the boy while he spoke softly in Russian. After a couple of seconds, Peter’s face broke into a smile and he gave a shy smile as he reached for the bear; Andrew noticed that Josten was mindful to hand it over slowly and without touching the child.

Josten spoke for about another minute, and then Peter joined in as well. That went on for another minute or two while Andrew’s annoyance grew, until he heard his name be brought up. Peter’s eyes flickered toward Andrew and whatever it was that Josten said seemed to put the boy at ease, to the point that he gave Andrew a slight wave with his right hand.

Soon after that, Josten nodded once and slowly stood up as if mindful not to startle Peter. “All right, I told him that you’re going to talk to him for a while, perhaps ask him some questions but that you’re here to help him and it’s going to be all right, that you won’t touch him.” Something made Josten’s jaw clench for a moment before he went back to the one bookshelf. “No one here will.”

Interesting, that Josten said ‘not touch’ and ‘not hurt’, not that either would happen while Andrew was around. “He’s right,” Andrew told Peter even though the boy might not understand him. “As he said, I’m Andrew, now shall we play a couple of games?” He motioned toward the one table that was already set up with the various coloring books and simple games he used to help him know the children assigned to him better as well as work toward gaining their trust while Josten translated.

The session went by quickly despite Andrew’s inability to talk directly Peter, with Josten only speaking to translate and staying quiet otherwise. Peter seemed to enjoy being able to play with crayons and to draw what were probably meant to be animal shapes, but drew into himself whenever Andrew brought up his father or the one coloring book had images of a man and a woman with a child or children in it.

Probably not a good idea to have Wymack attend any sessions with the boy in the near future.

The session ended with Andrew certain about Peter’s abuse and forming a plan on how to move forward with his treatment, but aware that it would take numerous more sessions. He remained seated when Abby returned for Peter, intent on retaining the slight bit of trust he’d earned with the boy so far.

It was difficult to tell with the overlarge sweater, but when Josten left the room first, Andrew thought Nicky might be on to something about the man’s ass. Also, he’d have to talk to Wymack about having the door looked into since something was wrong with its hinges – the damn thing would have slammed shut in his face if he hadn’t stopped it in time. He also felt a blast of cold, so the air conditioning was acting up.

He stopped by Bee’s office to share his initial observations with her about the boy and go over his reactions to the new case, as well as his workload in general. After about half an hour, they moved on to more ‘safe’ topics (the latest books they were reading, a new bakery), and he brought up Josten. “What’s his story?”

“Neil?” Bee handed over a fresh mug of hot chocolate before she returned to her desk. “David felt that we needed an official translator on site rather than request one on demand all the time. We can’t keep limping along with the various languages everyone on the staff knows, so he brought in a heavy-hitter,” she said with a smile.

Andrew thought about that for a moment, about Josten’s quiet voice and professional behavior. “What does he know besides Russian?”

“That I know about? Chinese, Spanish, French, German and Arabic.” Her smile strengthened when Andrew’s brows drew together. “Yes, I know, impressive.”

“Why’s he working here, then?” One didn’t go into a social service related job for the money, and it seemed to Andrew that someone with Josten’s skills could be working for the government or some big corporation.

Bee was quiet while she sipped her own hot chocolate as if debating what to say. “I’ve only met him a couple of times and David’s been quiet about how he found Neil… but I’m willing to bet that Neil works here for much the same reason that most of us do,” she admitted. “It’s personal for him.”

Andrew thought about that after he left to continue with the rest of his current cases (Isabel and Ryan and Cory), while he worked with Laila on the upcoming court trial for Cory’s prick of a father and spent some time with Robin on one of her own cases. He had just enough time to meet with Aaron for lunch and was satisfied to have an excuse to turn down meeting up with Kevin later that evening to watch some stupid game in a bar, even if it had been too long since he’d gone out drinking or had any ‘fun’.

Josten showed up each day to translate for Peter, a quiet, unobtrusive presence who stood off to the side and relayed what Andrew and Peter spoke as Andrew worked hard to earn the boy’s trust, to slowly try to pry the truth out of him about what his father had done to him and his missing mother. Each day Josten would show up in thick sweaters despite the fall weather still being warm for that time of year, covered from lower neck to hands and feet, his hair barely combed and falling onto his rarely expressive face. He would translate and then leave, and Andrew wouldn’t see him in the break room or the small cafeteria or anywhere else around the Foxhole.

It wasn’t that huge of a building.

“What do you think of him?” Nicky asked during lunch one day, about two weeks after Peter had arrived at the Foxhole. “You’re so lucky you get to work with him – all of my kids speak English or Spanish,” he said with a slight grimace, as if he didn’t adore his cases; he worked with kids facing difficulties due to them coming out or transitioning, often because of their home life or the situations at school.

“He translates, which is good,” Andrew said as he broke apart his cheese sandwich.

“Oh come on.” Nicky rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner as he leaned back in his chair. “I’ll admit that Neil needs a major wardrobe overhaul and makeover, but he’s still hot. How can you stand being in a room with him every day and not notice that hotness?”

Andrew greatly regretted his cousin finding out about him and Roland, even if it was just a casual thing. “Because I’m working and we’ve said like five things to each other?”

Nicky frowned at that. “Yeah, he’s not very outgoing, is he? Matt’s tried a few times to invite him out to some of our group events but always gets interrupted by something. “ He grinned as he leaned forward with his elbows on his table. “I wish I had my phone out the one time the coffee maker just started shooting water out all over him! It was the weirdest thing but funny as hell! Another time he leaned against the fridge wrong and somehow hit the ice button and the cubes started just falling out onto the floor! I think Neil’s terrified of being around him because of what’ll happen next, the poor guy.”

Well, Boyd was a bit of an eager puppy when he decided to go after something, though not as bad as Knox – there was a reason the men helped Kevin with the sports therapy programs. “Nothing’s going to happen,” Andrew told his cousin. “Drop it.”

“But-“

“No.” Andrew grabbed the rest of his sandwich with the intent of finishing it in his office and ignored his cousin’s crestfallen expression with ease as he walked away.

Still, something about the conversation stuck with him, as did Bee’s. It made him study Josten even more, made him pay close attention to the way the younger man was so patient with Peter, would soften his voice or offer up a new stuffed animal at just the right time (when Andrew had to ask more details about the bastard of a sperm donor). How there seemed to be a darkness in Josten’s eyes when Peter began to give up halting details, when he drew angry red marks on the child images (and the mom images as well).

“Who is he?” Andrew asked Wymack when they met the day before Cory’s trial would begin. “Where did he come from?”

“That’s confidential information,” Wymack said with a stubborn set to his jaw. “Just know that he had great recommendations and leave it at that.”

No, not quite, but the old bastard had installed a better lock on the personnel file drawers after he’d realized that Andrew had gone through them to check up on the last few hires, so Andrew would have to bide his time to read Josten’s file (that or get enough dirt on Seth to have him hack the online version, which might be easier).

His part in Cory’s trial lasted two days, two days of mental exhaustion and barely constrained anger while he was questioned and cross-examined and had to push down the urge to get up out of a damn uncomfortable wooden seat and bash in the brains of some fucking prick who’d dared to harm a defenseless child. Two nights of the memories rushing back to the fore worse than usual, of the demons riding him harder than usual… but it was worth it for Cory to be free, for the prick to receive a guilty verdict, according to the text he received from Laila as he worked on his daily tasks once back in the office.

Perhaps it was that text, or perhaps it was the way that Peter smiled at him when the boy saw him, the sense of progress during their session, but after Peter was gone and Josten went to leave as usual, Andrew spoke up. “Soon I’ll start working in new elements, have him sit in with Bee and try some sessions with Kevin as well. He’s going to need to learn English and get back in classes once he’s stable.”

Josten paused by the door to look back at him. “Yes, I’ve been asked to do a language evaluation of him in the next week or so, and to sit in with Dr. Dobson.”

Still so distant and polite, as always. Andrew shoved aside a thought on if he was like that with other things. “No other cases you’re assisting with right now?”

“A couple.” Josten cocked his head to the side. “It’s fine, I can manage.”

“Is that what keeps you so busy? I don’t see you around here at all.”

Josten tugged the cuffs of his light grey sweater (he always wore grey or light blue, wore such boring colors and clothes) even farther over his hands; Andrew thought he caught sight of faded scars on the long, slim fingers before they disappeared. “I have things to do.”

That wasn’t much of an answer, was it? “What do you think of Peter’s progress so far? Perhaps we can discuss it over a cup of coffee?” Andrew didn’t usually do the whole ‘social’ thing, but there was something interesting about the translator, something that drew his attention the more that Josten tried to hide away.

For a moment he thought that the man was going to say ‘yes’, and then Josten drew in a quick breath as he wrapped his arms around his middle. “No, I have paperwork I need to do. I’ll send you an email with my thoughts,” he said in a rush before he spun around and almost ran from the room.

Surprised by the reaction which seemed almost fearful, Andrew stepped forward to follow Josten and find out what had provoked that response. He shivered as he encountered a spot underneath the air conditioning vent (hadn’t Wymack fixed that yet?) and cursed when the door slammed into him with unexpected force, enough to knock him aside and leave his left arm throbbing with pain; it would have been his head if he hadn’t thrown his arm up in time.

Apparently Wymack hadn’t fixed that, either.

Josten forgotten for the moment, Andrew cradled his sore arm against his chest as he stalked down the hallway to go have a ‘nice’ chat with his boss.

*******

Neil frowned when he noticed that the grapefruit weren’t on sale anymore, but perked up when the green apples and pomegranates were instead, both of which he stocked up on until he felt a harsh tug on his hair. He grabbed some radishes and yams since they were cheap enough to pass without complaint (and the few vegetables he didn’t mind), then left the produce section with some regret.

Chicken thighs were on sale as well, so he grabbed a couple of packages with a whispered ‘I’ll freeze some’, then checked to see what cheese was marked down and got some decent cheddar. He managed not to sigh over the ramen packages he added to the cart, and at least would have the chicken, radishes and yams to make a proper meal out of it, and got a loaf of not quite the cheapest white bread along with a jar of peanut butter.

He grabbed some more shampoo, laundry soap and toilet paper, then saved the first aid aisle for last where he stocked up on bandages and antibacterial ointment. At least he didn’t need hair dye for a few more weeks, he thought to himself as he headed to pay for everything, mindful to pick a different cashier than last time.

The young woman smiled at him while she rang up his purchases, talking all the while about how she loved ramen, too, and wanted to try making an apple pie that weekend. He busied himself bagging up the items as they came down the conveyer belt, uncertain as to why she had to talk so much and not just focus on doing her job, and shook his head when she asked him questions along the lines of if he baked (he didn’t like sweets) or if he liked Japanese food (he did enjoy sushi, but it was rare when he allowed himself the treat).

She kept smiling at him despite the lack of answers, and brushed his fingers with her own when she handed him the receipt after he used his debit card to pay for everything. Aware of Mary’s cold presence behind him, he was quick to grab the bags so he could leave, and didn’t flinch when he heard what sounded to be a drawer slamming shut and the woman cry out in pain.

He didn’t know why people couldn’t leave him alone, couldn’t ignore him like he wanted. Why did they have to smile and talk to him? He wasn’t worth their attention, their attempts at friendship… or worse.

Mary tugged on his hair several times during the drive back to the apartment, hard enough to make his scalp burn but not enough to distract him from the road ahead. She waited to ‘speak’ until they were inside with the door locked and deadbolted for the night.

/Did you have to encourage that slut?/ Mary accused as she yanked on his hair again, that time hard enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“How did I do that?” Neil asked as he forced himself to carry the bags into the kitchen, the British accent slipping back into his voice since they were alone. “I didn’t even talk to her and I barely looked at her. Next time I’ll avoid her register,” he promised.

There was another tug to his hair, but that time it was almost gentle. /Good. What have I told you about her kind?/

His head hurting and arms aching from the scratches from earlier which still throbbed, Neil set the bags on the counter and took a deep breath before he recited the words he knew by heart. “That relationships are evil and will only harm me. That people who try to trick me into one aren’t ever to be trusted, that they only want to hurt and use me.”

/Yes./ That time Mary when stroked frigid fingers through his hair, he shivered from both the chill and the gentleness of the touch, from the rare show of affection. /You need me to watch after you, to keep you from falling for their tricks, Abram./

“I know, Mum. You’re always looking after me.” He gave her partially see-through form as grateful a smile as he could summon before he started on the groceries. “How about some tea?”

/Yes./

Once the chicken was put away (most of it in the freezer, as he’d promised), he filled the kettle with fresh water and started it heating up on the stove, then decided that he wasn’t in the mood to cook that night and settled on a peanut butter sandwich with an apple for dinner. He’d just finished making the sandwich, the kitchen orderly once again with the groceries tucked into their places (it wasn’t hard to keep neat considering how little food he bought) when the kettle whistled, so he rinsed out the two mugs to warm them up before he dropped teabags in them.

Mary hovered over the steeping mug set out for her, a pleased expression on her incorporeal face, her long hair drifting about much like the tendrils of steam rising from the mug. Neil allowed his to steep a little longer while he ate the sandwich, the large apple saved for ‘dessert’.

His mother was quiet for about an hour or so, during which he cleaned up after his dinner and took to reading a book in Chinese in the living room’s only chair. /How much longer are we going to stay here?/ she asked as she floated around the bare room, her expression one of displeasure.

Neil marked his place in the book then hugged his knees up to his chest. “I told you, this is a good place for us and there’s no need to run anymore. The money’s enough for all my bills, no one’s questioning my past and I like what I do.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly when she drifted closer. “He’s dead, Mum. No one’s looking for us anymore.” No matter how many times he tried to convince her of that, it never ‘took’ for long; he didn’t know if it was because of all those horrible years of living with a monster, of the harsh time on the run or her terrible death, but she couldn’t move on from the past.

But wasn’t that what made a ghost a ghost?

(And who was he to throw stones at glass houses, when he lived with said ghost?)

There was a blast of freezing air, Mary’s displeasure made evident as she whirled around the chair and tugged on his hair once more as a furious, sparkling silver blur. /Nowhere’s good, Abram. Everywhere is full of liars and betrayers and murderers, did he teach you nothing? How many times did we think we were safe, only to run away in pain? How many?/

“Everywhere and always,” he gritted out as he forced himself to not lift his arms to protect his head, to try to shove her away (as if that would work). “But he’s dead, Uncle Stuart killed him years ago. That doesn’t make anywhere safe, but… but that’s why I have you, yes?”

The whirling blast of cold eased up and the tugging stopped, right before Mary coalesced in front of him, her head downcast and wisps of hair floating in front of her face. /Yes, that’s why I’m here, Abram. I have to watch after you, have to protect you./

“I know, Mum,” he told her with a trembling smile. “You’ve always looked after me.” She taught him French and encouraged him to keep learning new languages when they were trapped in that nightmare of a home back in Baltimore as a means of distraction, to keep him busy and out of his father’s sight (as much as possible). When the abuse had finally gotten to be too much, she’d stolen money and run away with him, had managed to keep them out of his father’s reach until that awful night in Seattle.

Even after Nathan had nearly caught them, had left them bloody and beaten, Mary fatally so, she hadn’t given up. Her spirit had lingered on after Neil (Nathaniel) had burned her body, had kept him going long enough to reach out to the Hatfords for help (at last).

Neil thought that Stuart suspected that Mary hadn’t entirely ‘moved on’ after her death, that he’d picked up on her presence around him. After all, Neil had to get the whole ‘I see dead people’ from somewhere, not that many other ghosts came around him with Mary constantly there, for which he was grateful. There had to be something special about the Hatford bloodline which allowed Mary to be so powerful as a ghost.

Or maybe it was just more of their lives (and afterlives) being fucked up and cursed.

The debate about him leaving his new life behind settled for the time being, Neil made some more tea and read a little longer, then went to take a shower before bed. He sighed at the sight of the long, red scratches along his arms and even a couple of across his chest, but none of them were deep enough to require any bandages.

That time.

He took care not to scrub them too hard while washing clean, and only looked into the mirror to check his roots (they would be fine for a few more days) before he removed the contacts and brushed his teeth for the night.

Once he was tucked beneath the heavy blankets, Mary took up position by the bed, a familiar sentinel which never tired, never wavered in her duty to watch over him. He missed how she used to sleep in the same bed as him, her back pressed to his, but knew that when he’d wake up from the nightmares that she’d be there to brush cold fingers along his sweaty brow to calm him down, to reassure him that she was there and all was safe.

He was Neil Josten (now), he had a home to call his own, one with a deadbolt and a comfortable bed (even with the gun under the pillow), with no ghosts of people cruelly murdered by his father (save Mary), no monsters in human flesh eager to hurt him lurking about to cause harm. He had a job where he got to help children, something that paid the bills (even if Uncle Stuart had set up an account for him) and allowed him to do something he enjoyed.

He had Mary to watch over him, ever and ever.

It was enough.

*******

okay, pretend i know what i’m writing about here (in general).

[frivolity2015]

A Look Back at 24, the Men I dated, What I Learned, and Why 25 was a Great Year

I have been meaning to write an entry about what a mess 24 was, how 25 was amazing, and how I hope being 26 this year will enable more growth and be filled with more awesomeness. 

A Heart that Loves

I entered the dating game somewhat late in life. I never dated while I was in high school or college, or even pursued dating in general.  My first relationship didn’t occur until I was at the ripe old age of 23 and so it goes without saying that I was pretty naive when I entered into it.  I was so naive that I expected it to be like a teen romance movie and it didn’t take long before I realized real life is nothing like that.

My first relationship was with Antonio, a classmate and (former) friend from medical school. I had only known him for a few months but we were fast friends and became attached at the hip.  When I returned to St. Kitts for my 4th semester, the landscape changed since two of my closest friends were gone and I began to invest more and in my friendship with him.  Although I wasn’t initially attracted to him, there was this weird phenomenon where the more I saw him, the more attractive he became.  One day in March, halfway through the semester, Antonio led me away from a party to talk and within seconds, we fumbled through a confession that we had mutual feelings for one another. 

Things were a bit confusing at first because it was my first time developing genuine feelings for a person, and even more confusing was that that person was a guy. Surprisingly, it didn’t take too long before I felt comfortable telling him how cute I thought he was and how I enjoyed holding his hand under our backpacks while we road the bus home to conceal our intimacy.  We even went to our Med 4 Banquet together and coordinated our outfits. That night, I quietly snook out of my apartment to sleep at his place for the first time.  I’ll never forget how he looked as he stood over the balcony waiting for me and how he led me to his bed.  I felt my head fit perfectly on his neck as we lay there, and so with almost no hesitation, I asked if I could kiss him. He said “yes”, and that was my first kiss. I was in relationship bliss. St. Kitts really was a paradise.

A Heart’s a Heavy Burden

Going to Portland, Maine, was like realizing that the clock had struck past midnight; the fairy tale was over. 

I don’t want to get into specifics but it was like the Antonio I knew on the island was replaced but an unrecognizable person. The person who made me feel special only made me feel unwanted. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again: there is absolutely no worse feeling than having to convince yourself that someone loves you.  

Our breakup occurred almost intermittently over the course of the summer. At first he said he needed a break with very defined boundaries that became less strict.  I would occasionally see glimmers of the old Antonio but it wasn’t enough.  Because I was so in love with him, I sacrificed so much of myself hoping to be loved by him in return.  I over enthusiastically jumped at the chance to visit him in California when he invited me to stay with him and his family. I even thought my arrival there signified that we were a couple again since he planned a photoshoot for us at his favorite beach spot.

However, he put his walls back up as soon as I returned to NJ.  He became dismissive and distant again. And then, days after my 24th birthday, he broke up with me through a Facebook message, that I never really recovered from. 

When rejected by the person you love most, when betrayed by the person closest to you—that’s when self-abasement begins. You hide in a space that’s all your own, and close your heart.

I’m not a fan of who I became after my first relationship.  My self esteem was shot. I was upset. I was angry. I had no one to talk to because I wasn’t out yet. 

I like to celebrate my birthday surrounded by love because I really believe that it only invites more love into your year.  Unfortunately, I felt unloved heading into my 24th year.  Looking back, what I regret the most is how bitter I let myself become. No one likes that taste in their mouth but I couldn’t get rid of it. 

It didn’t help that the Jantonio saga took up the majority of the year. I kept going back and forth trying to be his friend and trying to reconcile with him;  I kept looking for a closure that didn’t exist.  I kept holding onto the hope of us getting back together and that he would wake up and realize how much he loved me. That never happened.

Ultimately, I ended up self sabotaging myself in August 2013, nearly a year after our break up.  After a well meaning g chat conversation that he initiated, our friendship was officially over. I even removed him from every social media account. I felt horrible about losing a friend and experiencing something where there couldn't be any absolution but I knew it was what I needed to do. The out of sight and out of mind method worked until a friend told me that he was heading to Chicago. I felt so guilty about the way things ended that I reached out to him and asked to meet up with him but he never replied. I can’t even begin to describe how it felt knowing he was in the same city as me for the first time in over a year and that I couldn’t see him, or reconcile.

Sex in the Windy City

I have to backtrack a little bit here because my saga with Antonio overlapped with my misadventures in Chicago. I moved to Chicago in June 2013 and I was determined to find love, enter a relationship, and finally move on! I decided to try online dating since my friend, Caryn, was so successful on it (and now she’s getting married to someone she met on OKC!).

Online dating is definitely a really interesting experience.  I’m glad I did it but I would never want to go through the world of online dating ever again. Online dating felt like I was playing some online game instead of finding a match. It makes you feel shallow, it can boost your confidence, and genuinely creep you out.

I’d like to call the next part of this the “What I Learned” section, full of anecdotes, funny stories, and what I really learned from each guy.

JR was one of the first people that I messaged on OKC. He had a really well thought out profile and he was really good looking. He was a graphic designer, he was Filipino, and he was also a recent transplant to Chicago so I thought we had a lot in common. He was also the first person I asked to meet up so I was beyond thrilled when he said he wanted to hang out. His initial idea of a hang out was to go see a movie (LAME!) but we ended up deciding we would just go out to eat.  Since we were both new to the city, we didn’t really know where to go but he lived downtown and figured there would be many options. I drove up to his place to meet him and he made me wait over an hour for him because he was busy getting a haircut (and later I saw that he was taking selfies of himself to later put up on his profile; how uncool!). That should have been the first sign that we were incompatible but I waited for him anyway. He didn’t even apologize for being late! Even thinking about how rude he was gets me annoyed.  Dinner was okay and the conversation was actually pretty decent. In the end, he paid for our meal as a means to apologize for making me wait and so I agreed to meet up with him again. I wish that I was strong enough to decline because he ended up being a waste of time.  Looking back, I should have seen the signs! He used the same cologne as Antonio and he was also from CA. If he was anything like Antonio, I should have seen that he was trouble. 

For our second meet up, we decided to be tourists and go see all the city guide spots. Again, he was late and didn’t even apologize for making me wait for him at his place. He didn’t even help me navigate around the city. Also, he was REALLY boring. Although I found him somewhat eager to talk about himself, he had absolutely no interest in actually making conversation.  By the time we made it to dinner, I was miserably bored. He kept talking about how his friends were inviting him to go out that night but he never invited me to join him. I felt dissed and decided it was time to go and he acted surprised when I wanted to leave early.

I learned from JR that I didn’t want to date a guy that was way too into himself. He bragged about how much money he makes, how he was too good for an audi, and how essential he was to his company. He was a true narcissist. If you check out his IG account, it’s full of selfies and his purchases. Yuck. I’ve bumped into him twice since those events. Once at a mall where I was trying to avoid him but he followed me into a store and waited for me to notice him and acted like he wasn’t following me. The second time was after matching. I went out to boystown to celebrate and since I knew I couldn’t avoid bumping into him, I went up to greet him. His first instinct was to mention how Antonio had visited him.  Yup! It turns out that Antonio and him had a history. Antonio flew all the way out here to visit him right after out heated break up in August 2012.

Kekoa was one on the reasons why I was excited to move to Chicago. Don’t judge me here, but I actually screened all the cities where I could do my clerkship for which had the most attractive guys. Kekoa's profile was one of the first ones listed in Chicago, and I had an instant crush on him. I wanted to meet him, but I decided I needed to practice talking to other guys online first to not blow my chance with him. His profile included a story about playing a game of Taboo that was so wild that the police were called due to a noise complaint. Luckily I had plenty of experience playing Taboo in medical school because it was one of the only games we had on the island (thanks, Nick’s mom!) and I was able to send a message with more substance than “Hey, what’s up?”. Needless to say, I was ecstatic when he messaged me back and agreed to meet up. Our first “meet up”, as he likes to call it, started at a cocktail lounge, where I got carded and became self conscious since he told the bartender that I looked like a baby. Luckily, our dinner went well, and conversation felt seamless; I even had to excuse myself to put more money into my parking meter. I thought it was a perfect date, but there was some radio silence afterward that made me think otherwise.

Luckily, I’ve learned that persistence is key. Since he wasn’t getting back to me about another date, I made made a trip up to his campus to make it too convenient to see me. I was told that a second date is the true test to see if it’s worth pursuing the person, and this date did just that. I ended up staying the night at his place, and when I awoke the next day, I was worried that I’d have a Bridesmaids moment and be kicked out, but he invited me to get breakfast and taught me how to parallel park instead. 

I saw Kekoa once more afterward, and then didn’t hear from him again. I remember reciting a prayer before sending him my third text in a row without a response asking God to inspire him to message me back. I was at work when I received a text from him basically saying that right now wasn’t the right time for him to be in a relationship. Although I accepted his answer, I timidly asked him to message me when he got back if he wanted to reconnect, but I knew that was a long shot and his track record only didn’t make me believe otherwise.

Juan was a nice Mexican guy that I met on OKC.  We met up at the mall near me, which was really sweet since he was the first person that didn’t have me drive out to them instead. The first date went well and afterward, he told me he had a good feeling about us and wanted to see where things could go. I was curious too, so I eagerly agreed to another date. For our second date, he picked me up to take me to his favorite spots, which included a late night restaurant in Chinatown and Hollywood Ave Beach. I really appreciated that he wanted to give me insight into his world and that he wanted to share it with me. In the end, I didn’t really have any romantic feelings for him; I didn’t even feel inclined to kiss him or invite him up to my room after second date. I kind of loss interest since I had decided that I wanted to fully focus on Kekoa. I knew it wasn’t going anywhere when he asked if he could call me and I was completely uninterested in the conversation.

I learned that it’s important to be with someone who has more in common with you. Although Juan was nice, his idea of fun was watching drag shows and he worked as a store manager for Party City, so it made it hard for me to relate to him or empathize with him if he had a busy work day.

I bumped into him almost a year later at Scarlet and we both excitedly introduced each other to our boyfriends. I could tell that we were both mutually happy for each other and I really am happy that he’s able to make someone else happy. 

Genesis was the first person I reached out to after Kekoa up and left me. I was so desperate to meet someone who could fill the void I felt that I met up with him after a short exchange of messages. I feel horribly shallow about this, but I could tell that I was not attracted to him from the moment I saw him. That non-attraction definitely put a damper on the rest of the date even though he was a genuinely nice guy. For once, I felt like he was trying to drive the conversation more than I was. To be honest he could probably tell that I wasn’t invested.

I learned that I was becoming desperate and that desperation is not pretty. Feeling desperate was even worse than being alone.

Ramil was a Filipino guy almost 10 years older than me. I wasn’t too excited to meet up with him because nothing in our conversations pulled me toward him. Regardless, I was so desperate to meet someone that I said I agreed to meeting up with him. There really isn’t much of a story here but I can’t help but laugh a little when I think back to how taken aback I was when he first opened his mouth and spoke to me. I was so surprised by how (Micky) mousey his voice sounded that I had to have him repeat his hello. Our lunch date was boring and I couldn’t even pretend to be interested.

I learned that I am just as shallow as every other guy out there. I couldn’t get passed the sound of his voice and judged him way too harshly.

Alan(?) was someone I met when I downloaded Grindr in an act of absolute desperation. Clearly, the theme of August was “desperation”. I was pretty optimistic about online dating and didn’t think it would take too long to match with someone. I felt pretty successful with the attention I was receiving from people on OKC and even more lucky when I had found a match in Kekoa up until he vaguely ended things. So I went on a date with someone from Grindr, a hook-up app, who didn’t have a very clear profile picture and it didn’t show his whole face. Big mistake. He must have used an old photo because it didn’t look too much like him. In addition, he was kind of bitchy and I wasn’t into his vibe at all. Obviously, he didn’t make much of an impression on me since I can’t even remember his name.

I learned to never go on a date with someone with just one profile picture. It’s almost a giveaway sign that they’re not going to look like it in person.

Bryan was someone who I was intimidated by on OKC. His profile was highlighted in red because it meant that he didn’t respond often to people’s messages. I figured he could be selective because he must have had a lot of interest thanks to the many shirtless photos he posted (in addition some really good answers in his profile). Surprisingly, he messaged me back! It was an instant ego boost that someone that OKC had labelled “very  selective” responded to me. 

I picked him up from his work and was happy to see that he looked like his profile picture but I felt tricked as soon as he opened his mouth because it turned out he was a Vietnamese fob with a very strong accent. So in that instant, I became a self hating Asian. Horrible. 

Our first date was pretty horrible too. He didn’t know where to go around his work so we ended up at the mall’s food court. The silence was awkward and palpable. I felt like he was just watching me eat and it was like pulling teeth to get him to talk. He finally opened up when we made it to a Starbucks. He was actually pretty interesting even though he was obviously shy. He was born and raised in Vietnam, moved to Singapore for school, continued education in Texas and then moved to Chicagoland because of a job that needed someone who was multilingual. 

After a quiet date, he messaged me asking if I would be willing to go on another date with him. I agreed as long as he promised to not be less shy the second time around.

I will use this opportunity to take a break, recap, and try to tie in all these loose ends together

The darkest days in my story of heartbreak culminated during Labor Day Weekend. Kekoa had just ended things with me. I went on several “fail dates” that left me feeling empty, desperate, and ashamed. Needless to say, my self esteem was at all time low, and that’s a considerable thing to say since I had always been very secure in who I am. Things got worse when I received news that Antonio was coming to town. I still remember being at work and feeling my heart race to the point of exhaustion. I was shocked to hear he was coming here. Janet Jackson’s “Again” started magically playing in the background of that moment. I thought I had come to peace that he was no longer in my life since I had a few weeks to heal but I reached out to him trying to make peace. He never replied and I had to accept that I wasn’t going to see him although it left me devastated. This was the same weekend that Bryan asked me out and I was glad to have a distraction.

Bryan brought me to Boystown, the gay neighborhood in Chicago that I had never been to but wish I had discovered earlier. We grabbed dinner and then headed out dancing. I was actually having fun! I forgot about being down and out and just moved my body to the beat of the music. We went to another bar and he brought me to the third floor in a secluded area and attempted to kiss me. I cock blocked him and said, “maybe we should get a drink first.” However, he was really persistent. He made his second attempt at a kiss and I gave in. He was not a good kisser. I felt like he pursed his lips so tightly together that I could feel every wrinkle and my tongue had nowhere to go. Things got a little bit creepy when he tried to feel up my shirt. He said, “I can tell you have a nice body.” Honestly, he had a nice one too. Fully chiseled pecs and a tight 6 pack. He stood taller than me at 5′ 10″. We continued making out until he pulled back and said “I could fuck you.”

That should have been my sign to run away, but I didn’t. I agreed. I kept thinking about how Antonio was so displeased with me for never going all the way with him. I was at my lowest point and genuinely believed that maybe it was time to give up on losing my virginity to someone who I loved and loved me in return. I loved Antonio but knew that it was one sided, which is why I never let things go that far. After experiencing so much heartache and going on so many fail dates, I started to believe that I was meant to be alone for the rest of my life. I am not proud of that night and I get upset with myself when I think about all the opportunities I had to walk away from it all.

I felt gross the next day. I couldn’t even look at him without feeling sick. But there he was in front of me, representing all the things I had desired the whole summer--a boyfriend, a relationship, someone that was into me--and suddenly, I didn’t want it, any of it, anymore. That was the last time I saw Bryan.

I learned that no act of desperation should make you do something out of character.

When I was 13, a priest said that the purpose of saving sex for marriage was because we give up half of ourselves when we become one with someone in intercourse. If you go around having sex with multiple partners, you’ll only be able to give a small fraction of yourself to your spouse. If you wait until marriage, you can give all of yourself to the person you make a vow before God with. As soon as I heard that, I promised myself I would wait. I even prided myself in my determination. Yet at 24, at my lowest, I gave that all up and gave a part of myself to someone I didn’t even know.

When you are down to nothing, God is up to something.

I drove home feeling disgusted with myself, with my actions, what I gave up and what I had let myself become. I turned into a senseless person desperate for love. I became someone who’s self esteem was suddenly rooted in whether or not I was in a relationship. Believe me when I saw that prior to Antonio, I had never desired having a significant other because I never saw the point in having one. I was fully content in myself and the relationships I had with my family and friends.

I got home and declared to the heavens above that I was done with dating. I was done with being upset. I uninvited myself from my own pity party. I was focused on rebuilding myself and allowing God to heal me and make me whole again. “Shake it out” by Florence and the Machine became my anthem and every time I sang the chorus, I felt like I was gaining myself back.

It felt like the moment I that I was finally at peace with myself and my situation, the universe threw a few unexpected and surprising pieces into place and I accepted them with open arms.

After waiting what felt like an eternity, I finally sent Kekoa another text message. I knew that Septemeber 6 was his birthday, so as early as August, I planned on messaging him just to greet him. Unfortunately, OKC lied to me and tricked me into believing that his birthday was a day early. PRAISE THE HEAVENS ABOVE because Kekoa actually messaged me back! I wanted to be chatty but I had to control myself and keep it short, simple, and make every attempt to not sound like a stage 5 clinger. My plan worked because he messaged me several days later, the day before my birthday, asking when my birthday was.

When it rains, it pours.

Manny was someone I met on OKC after my crazy Labor Day Weekend in hopes of just making a friend. He didn’t live too far from the suburb I was in so we met up for bubble tea. He was actually REALLY good lucking, tall, and Latino. I was instantly attracted so I was disappointed when I learned that he suffered from Yellow Fever. I only hung out with him twice. My second hang out with him was at his place where we watched a Korean Drama (”Who Are You”). His room was covered in anime and K-POP posters. I was definitely taken aback by it but thought it was kind of endearing. However, I soon began to think he had an Asian fetish because he would send me photos of hot Asian guys on my phone and say “Happy Humpday!”. I never met up with him again but he was definitely one of the people that contributed to the upswing I was feeling as I turned 25. 

I learned to NEVER date a guy with Yellow Fever! It’s super flattering at first but then it gets creepy real fast.

Smith was someone I messaged on POF (yeah, yeah, another dating app). He was Laotian, blond, and was only 2 years younger than me. My only intention was to make a friend and stated that from the beginning. I was surprised he wanted to meet up since most of his messages to me online were one lined and I felt like he wasn’t interested in meeting me when he could be going on dates. He was really quiet the first time we met. We were supposed to watch a movie but then all 4 of his roommates came home unannounced. I was really nervous to be meeting all of these people all at once and I could tell that Smith hadn’t told them he was about to have company over.  I’m pretty sure he felt awkward introducing me to them when he had just met me moments ago. Regardless, I ended up having a pretty decent time watching “Insidious” with them.

Several days later, Smith invited me to his birthday dinner with his roommates and it was really fun. We went back to his place and he insisted we took shots for his birthday. We ended up not going out that night but he insisted that I slept over instead of driving home. I did. And it was so nice just sleeping next to someone and being held. It was purely innocent; we didn’t even share a kiss but I really appreciated that. I was leaving for home by the end of the week but he made me promise that we’d celebrate my birthday when I got back.

Everything changed when I turned 25.

One reason why my 25th birthday is so memorable for me is because my relatives from the Philippines were there to celebrate it with me for the first time! The other reason was that I felt like I had two prospects waiting for me in Chicago.

I started seeing Smith pretty regularly, but it was pretty casual, and I started wondering if we were just meant to be friends. That changed the night of his birthday party. A few of his friends I was meeting for the first time implied that they’d break my neck if I broke his heart, which definitely caught me off guard but gave me a bit of courage to be more flirtatious. When I tried ordering a drink for him at the bar, he placed his hand in front of mine to stop me from speaking, and I kissed his hand (I’m actually blushing as I type this). We went outside, made out, and I ended up staying the night with him. 

I really, really liked being with Smith. He was young and fun, and more importantly, he made me feel young and fun. I loved going out dancing with him, fooling around with him, and just being around him. If I could talk to him now, I’d thank him for pulling me out of my rut and making me feel loved and special again. However, I knew it wasn’t meant to be. I honestly couldn’t see myself fitting into his world, no matter how fun he was or how sweet he was. It broke my heart to end things, but I learned that you shouldn’t be with someone if you can’t see how you would fit into their world. 

Kekoa, again!

I was seeing Kekoa around the same time I was seeing Smith. We made plans to celebrate each others birthdays in early October. I was so excited to see him, but I was actually really offended when he made fun of my outfit and I actually thought he was trying to really hard to impress me. At one point during dinner, I even thought about how this would definitely be the last time I’d see him. However, we ended up going out dancing and drinking and I ended up at his place. I’m embarrassed to say that I drunkenly basically confessed that I had a huge crush on him and thought that he was marriage material. YIKES! I woke up the next say saying “I should go”, and left in a rush. But surprisingly, Kekoa messaged me again the next day and asked when he’d see me again. 

Things got a little bit messy as I’d spend a Saturday with Smith and then have plans set for Sunday with Kekoa. But once I realized that I didn't fit into Smith’s world, it made it easy for me to end things with him to be with Kekoa. I formally made the decision to end things with Smith when Kekoa tried to nonchalantly call me “babe” and asked me to be exclusive (on November 1).

I wanted to start our relationship on an honest foot, so I told Kekoa that I was seeing someone the same time I was seeing him. Kekoa was hurt when he found out that our story wasn’t exactly how he perceived it, and I thought he’d never want to see me again based off of how he reacted. But the next day, he called me and asked to come over. He basically told me that he didn’t care about my past (cue “As Long as You Love Me” by the BSB) and that he loved me. He said it so easily and without hesitation. It warmed my soul in a way I can’t describe. It made me feel secure in us. 

Needless to say, the rest is history and we’re still together, and still very much in love. I entered a relationship where everything was an adventure, where communication was mandatory, where every day felt important, and everyday with him felt like home. 

What did I learn? I learned that:

Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps, hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.

Also important: I learned what I don’t want in a relationship.  My relationship with Antonio was toxic and I allowed myself to be belittled into an empty shell of a person.  I learned that it’s SO important to be with someone who values you, someone who loves you, and someone who won’t push you away or keep you at an arm’s length.  It’s important to be with someone whose whole being is one that you want to emulate. And somewhat oddly, and I’m learning this in pediatrics, it’s important to be with someone who you’d want your child to grow up to be like and that’s what I have with Kekoa.  If my offspring could be kind, intelligent, selfless, patient, adventurous, and have a healthy appetite, I know I would be bringing more good into this world. 

I didn’t mention this earlier, but Antonio actually reached out to me with this message prior to my birthday:

“Jan - I know this is out of the blue and I’m probably the last person you want to hear from. I just want to apologize for not responding to your texts when I was in Chicago. In all honestly, I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know what to say because the last time we talked it seemed as if we weren’t going to talk/chat/see each other for a while. Things between us have been a little too emotionally heavy for me (and I’m sure for you too) and I really just wanted some space from that. I’m sorry for everything that has happened but despite all of that I still truly value your friendship even if we agreed to take a break from it for a while. I hope all is well with you and thank you for everything. Ps. Advance happy birthday”

I was tempted to respond and try to reconnect. But I knew I couldn’t. I know I couldn’t let someone so toxic reenter my life. And I’m proud of myself for severing that relationship with him and blocking him out of my mind and achieving peace.

I pretty much spent my whole 24th year being heartbroken, but that’s okay. I learned so much about myself in that year of self loathing and true desperation. I am a naturally optimistic, happy-go-lucky, and cheerful guy, so I am thankful that I was able to experience emotions I had never felt before. If anything, it makes better able to appreciate all of the happiness I have now and have an understanding of who I am at my worst and best.

I think what I learned is best said by my spirit animal, Dr. Christina Yang:

“Burke, Burke was…he took something from me.  Little pieces over time, so small I didn’t notice.  He wanted me to be something I wasn’t, and I made myself into what he wanted.  One day I was me, Christina Yang, and suddenly I was lying for him and jeopardizing my career and agreeing to be married and wearing a ring and being a bride until i was standing there in a wedding dress with no eyebrows and I wasn’t Christina Yang anymore.  And even then I would have married him.  I would have.  I…I lost myself for a long time, and now…that I’m finally me again…I can’t…I love you.  I love you more than I love Burke.  I love you, and that scares the crap out of me.  I let him take pieces of me.  And that will never happen again.”

[iknowthismuchistrue2017]

My FTM Detransition

This is the story of my own transition and detransition.  This is my experience only.  I’m not speaking for anyone else.  

I’m in my midlife now, and up until about six months ago I knew I was trans. My top surgery and hysterectomy were done almost two decades ago.  My name change was legal almost a decade ago.

I’ll start at the beginning.  I was born in the sixties in a conservative town at a time when gender roles for men and women were extremely rigid.  I know these roles are still rigid, but believe it or not they are less extreme than they were. Growing up it was apparent to me even as a child that I was less than just for being born female.  Fathers were proud of their son’s in a way no one was of their daughter’s.  When son’s were born it was celebrated, when daughter’s were born it was just another day.  Additionally sons had power, they were allowed to be vocal and have opinions. Daughters were seen and not heard.

My mother wanted nothing more than a girl when she had me.  She’s told me that by 3 years old she could no longer keep me in dresses, that she would put me in a dress and within minutes she would find me stripped down and dressing myself in my fathers clothing.  This was the beginning of the clothing wars with my mother, and I give her a lot of credit for finally letting me win that war to a large extent.  She did eventually allow me to wear t-shirts, jeans and sneakers most of the time, though I still had to wear dresses for holidays and events.  Those days involved a lot of screaming fights and crying.  I was not allowed to cut my hair short until high school, which was another battle and a huge relief when the day finally came.

My friends were all boys.  I liked their toys, their games, and playing sports. I felt like one of them, but I couldn’t understand why I didn’t have a penis.  So every night I would ask god to please let me wake up with a penis.  I don’t recall how long I made this request, but I remember waking up disappointed for a significant period of time.  I never had any interest in girls, their toys, or their games.  And I found their conversations boring.

Over and over I heard the same things from the adults around me, even some I didn’t know:

“Girls don’t do that”

“Why are you wearing boys clothes?”

“Why are you wearing boys shoes?”

“You’re a girl you know”

And later, “Why do you have a boys haircut?”

Looking back I can see the beginnings of my internalized misogyny.  And why would I want to be a girl? Girls didn’t get to wear comfortable clothing or shoes. Girls didn’t have any of the freedoms afforded boys. Boy Scouts went camping while Girl Scouts sold cookies and did what I considered to be boring, and in a skirt!  A girl’s future involved getting married and having children, which I had no interest in.  Girls didn’t grow up to have careers, they grew up to be housewives doing laundry and making meals and I had no interest in that either.  There was no room for me in any of this, so from the beginning I was separating myself from girls and identifying with boys.  

At 11 when I got my first period I honestly felt like my life was over.  I became very distressed, and cried every month for years, begging my mother for a way to make it stop.  My mother would try to comfort me telling me that this was something all girls/women went through, and that just made it worse for me.  All I could think was that 12 times a year, for what seemed like the rest of my life I would be bleeding from my vagina.  And while I never liked my vagina to begin with because I felt I should have a penis, I now despised it, and it was the start of intense dysphoria which would last for many years.  To make things worse my breasts started noticeably developing quite suddenly and my mother decided it was time for me to wear bra’s.  My periods were distressing but I would at least get a 3 week break from them.  Bra’s were everyday.  From the very beginning I felt encumbered bra’s. They felt like a harness around my body, and I longed for the freedom I had when my skin felt free under my t-shirts before I had breasts.  

Once I started puberty I was around boys less because I was isolating, due largely to the distress of a changing body and the realization that I was trapped in a body that did not feel like mine and that I did not want.  I was not comfortable in my own skin, and I had a lot of self-hatred because of my body.  

I also discovered the love I had for women was here to stay.  When I was younger I had crushes on girls, but I didn’t give them too much thought because my friends were boys who also had crushes on girls.  The only talk of gay men, or lesbians (shims as they were called in my town) I ever heard growing up was mocking and negative, so I kept this secret to myself.  In high school I was determined to make peace with my body and spent my junior year wearing make-up and dressing like a girl.  I had no friends because I had already be judged a freak by my peers and I became more depressed than I already had been.  In my senior year I went back to dressing in a way that felt right to me, back to men’s clothing, with big button shirts over t-shirts to hide my breasts.  I had learned to wear sports bra’s in a smaller size to flatten myself.

After high school I went away to college in a major city and for whatever reason ended up quickly becoming friends with lesbians and the lesbian friendly women, without even being aware that this is who they were initially.  Then for the first time I began dating woman.  I enjoyed this new group of friends, and girlfriends too.  I got a fake ID and began going to gay and lesbian bars and a new world was opening up to me.  I had transformed into a butch lesbian and it felt like maybe I was coming into my own, sort of.  

I did begin to notice not long after was that I still didn’t feel right in my own skin. I was with a group of friends I loved, and had a girlfriend that I loved and yet I didn’t feel a part-of within the lesbian community.  I was with women, who were proud of being women.  But my body still felt foreign to me.  I still had dysphoria.  I still felt distress with every single period I had, not only that my periods were heavy, and painful, and a full week long.  And I still wore tight sports bra’s to hid my breasts.

It’s important to remember that this was the mid 80’s, long before the internet, and long before the word transexual was used to mean anything other than a pejorative.  The only time I heard the word “trans” was in reference to transvestites and prostitutes at that time, and it was used in the most derogatory way.

After 4 years of college in a major city where being a butch lesbian was largely accepted (in the right parts of the city), I moved to another major city.  This new city was a big wake up call for me because while there was a large lesbian community, it did not include butch lesbians. I had a buzz cut and wore jeans, t-shirts, Doc Marten’s, and a black leather motorcycle jacket and I was not welcome within this lesbian community.  I’m sure somewhere in this new city there must have been butch lesbians, but with no internet I never found them.  I tried for a couple of years to make friends within this group and no matter what I did I couldn’t make friends, and couldn’t find a girlfriend for quite a long time either.

I decided to throw myself into my work and became a workaholic.  I worked long hours, and 95% of the people I worked with were straight.  Once again I became more comfortable with the men I worked with, and generally talked only to the women I had crushes on, some of which I had relationships with.  I still had dysphoria, still hated being in my body, and still did not identify with being female.  I began distancing myself from being female even more, my internalized misogyny came crashing back, and I was incredibly depressed. Life went on like this for years.

Eventually the word trans became part of the vernacular, and when I was about 35 I had top surgery. This was one of the happiest days of my life.  It was the beginning of a journey that was going to help make me comfortable in my own skin.  Within a couple of years I had a hysterectomy.  The hysterectomy was for medical reasons and not related to my being trans, but that was the other happiest day of my life.  Now life was really looking hopeful for me.  I still had some bottom dysphoria, but without breasts and periods my life instantly became easier to deal with.  I very much wanted to start T, but at the time I had a great job in a somewhat conservative industry that I wasn’t willing to lose at that time.  I had already been passing well enough to use men’s rooms and get called “sir” pretty consistently without T, provided I didn’t talk much. But I was leading a double life for years as a female at work and male outside of work, and I was getting tired of that.

In 2012 I started a low dose a T because I was still concerned about losing my job.  When my voice started to change I decided to come out to my boss.  I lost my job about a month later.  A couple months after that I started getting a lot of cystic acne and I was seeing my dermatologist 2 to 3 times a week to have cysts drained.  The longer I was on T the more acne I had, and I still was not at a full dose.  Other than the severe cystic acne, the other changes I was getting were relatively minor as I already looked fairly male, though I did love the big energy bump I got from it.  After another few months both my dermatologist and endocrinologist said as long as I continued taking T, I would continue to have cystic acne.  Cystic acne had plagued me through my teenage years and there was no way I could live with it in my 40’s and beyond. I stopped T.  

While it was incredibly disappointing at the time to have to stop T, at the same time I felt relief.  I can’t exactly pinpoint why because I still didn’t feel or identify as female, but I wasn’t going to actually be 100 percent male even with T. Something didn’t feel right about it.  

It’s been 5 years since I stopped taking T, and in most of that time I still considered myself trans until my thinking slowly started to shift without me being completely aware of it. The more I thought about what my identity is, the more I felt like I’m just me.  Sure, I was born female, but I’m still just me, and that me is gender non-conforming. Then about 6 months ago I was on YouTube, and I discovered there were other people who had people who had transitioned, but had then detransitioned.  And on Tumblr I found more people who had detransitioned.  And none of us detransitioned for the same reasons, we are all unique.

And here’s something else, all my life I considered myself a feminist but I wasn’t, I was a misogynist for decades until the pieces started coming together. I was unknowingly lying every time I called myself a feminist. How could I distance myself from being female in every way possible and not be a misogynist??  Wouldn’t it make more sense to be a different kind of woman?  I didn’t and don’t have to buy into this antiquated patriarchal system of what is male and female.  For me, by transitioning I was buying into that system and I don’t want to perpetuate that rigid binary model.  And more importantly, for me that is, is that had I understood at a young age that is was possible to be whatever kind of female/girl/woman, and that I didn’t have to follow the narrow path I was presented with.  Maybe I could have been spared a lot of discomfort, anxiety and stress I felt about being born female.  It’s not to say I still wouldn’t have been distressed over my breasts because I did feel entirely confined and trapped by bra’s.  But it is hard to quantify whether my periods would have caused so much distress for decades because they were abnormally heavy from the start, and I had excruciating cramps from my first one until the last one.  And by my mid 30’s before my hysterectomy I was having extremely painful periods twice a month.  Just maybe if I had had a normal cycle I would have outgrown the distress, but I’ll never know.  And as for my bottom dysphoria it’s possible that had I not felt so trapped by my gender, had I known there was more than one way to be female, had I had more access to sports and parents who wholeheartedly accepted me as different, maybe that would have eased that dysphoria.  

This is what I’ve come to take away from my experience.  Gender roles are bullshit.  Yes I was born female, but I can be anyone I want to be.  I don’t have to fit into any kind of rigid role I don’t want to.  And I don’t have to take T to try to turn myself into something I will never be. I also don’t regret my top surgery, because who says I can’t modify my body in any way I want to.  I can do whatever I want to my own body.  And here’s something else that happened on it’s own, somewhere between the ages of 40 and 45 I woke up one day and realized I no longer had bottom dysphoria.  I wasn’t working on it, and the only thing I can think of is I just didn’t care anymore.  I didn’t care in the same way I don’t care how people read me.  I know who I am, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.

Maybe all of us who are AFAB could start to embrace our differences and build a better community for ourselves.  If we work together and accept each other, we could begin to close the gap in the difference between the way men and women are treated in society.  We could stand up for each other and not tolerate being “less than”, and we can demand the respect we deserve.

I’d like to add that I am NOT part of the right wing Christian movement.  I am not a republican. I am not against people transitioning because we are free to do whatever we want with our own bodies.  This post is my own experience and nothing more. 

[junker-town]

The Bachelorette Episode 5 recap: What was absolute garbage last night, and where were the bright spots?

Lee’s racism is still a main storyline, and it’s still super gross.

Hey gang, welcome back to hell, aka the recent episodes of The Bachelorette. This week, we’re going to do things a little bit differently, because I’m fed up that the producers are still making one guy’s flaming racism a main storyline.

In case you missed it, we left off primed for a two-on-one date between Lee and Kenny, from which only one man can return. Oh, and as though that weren’t bad enough in and of itself, they’re dragging this out for two nights. There’s an episode tomorrow, too, which is, for a Bachelorette beat writer, like having two back-to-back exams in college and but without Cheetos from the library’s vending machines to get you through.

Last week I wrote about how this show stopped being fun. I debated not writing about it at all anymore, to be honest, because a) last week made me want to stop watching, b) I have only so much to say about how slimy it is, and c) I said it all here. I have a feeling that until Lee and his Richard Spencer haircut get sent home, I’ll just keep writing some version of that over and over, with varying degrees of disgust.

However, I’m hoping that once this Lee B.S. is done, the show will get back to being what it’s supposed to be: a dumb (as opposed to sinister), Monday night diversion. In the meantime, I’m going to write about this program by scoring it like a sports game. I’ll be awarding an arbitrary number of points to Team Garbage and Team Bright Spots, so that at the end of this we can see whether there was anything worth watching at all.

BACK IN GOOD OL’ SOUTH CAROLINA BECAUSE THAT’S WHERE WE ARE FOR SOME REASON

Ugh, Kenny and Lee are talking on the porch. Kenny’s trying to stay calm. Lee says, “I respect how f[bleeping] calm you are, because you couldn’t do that the other night.” Lee is egging Kenny on, asking if he wants to get violent, twisting his words, gas-lighting him. I hate this. Lee calls Kenny a stack of bleeding muscle.

+1,800 for Team Garbage.

But then Kenny says this about Lee when Lee eventually backs down: “See what a b**** does when a b**** is confronted?”

+1,800 for Team Bright Spot.

BRYAN IS A TOOL

Bryan and Rachel are making out in a sailboat tied to a dock. It’s reminds me of kids making out in parked cars behind the high school gym, but instead of a car it’s a boat, and instead of high school it’s a reality show, and instead of kids it’s two humans over 30.

Bryan’s smarmy, smooth voice sounds like that of a late night DJ on a soft rock station. He says to Rachel, “So if you think I’m too good to be true for you, and I think you’re too good to be true for me, then there’s a very simple solution: I just think we’re a perfect match.”

Someone call Shakespeare and tell him there’s a new all-time great wordsmith coming for his throne!!!

This is not a point for Team Bright Spot, but it’s not a point for Team Garbage either. It’s more a point for Team Goober, so let’s go ahead and add that to the mix.

+900 for Team Goober.

Bryan's priorities are in order. #TheBachelorette http://pic.twitter.com/cla5qLM32i

— The Bachelorette (@BacheloretteABC) June 27, 2017

OH NO, OH JACK STONE, OH POOR JACK STONE

The last one-on-one date in South Carolina goes to Jack Stone, the lawyer who, for some reason, is the first person in the history of The Bachelorette to get a last name rather than just an initial.

I thought Bryan was a tool. But Jack Stone is giving him a run for his money from the get-go, when he says, from the perch of the horse-drawn carriage, “I like to joke, and if someone can’t take a joke, and joke back, it’s boring.”

Jack Stone, buddy, pal, my friend: if you have to say it, it probably isn’t true. This schmuck has definitely texted one of his friends before and been like, “Why do nice guys always finish last?”

Rachel and Jack Stone go to this bar called Shuckin’ and Shaggin’, where they eat oysters and do a dance called shagging. Which is not, as Austin Powers would lead you to believe, another word for having sex. Rachel doesn’t seem to be having much fun. Jack Stone gets pretty creepy on the boardwalk afterwards.

Jack and Rachel laying down the law on the dance floor! Well, Rachel anyway. #TheBachelorette http://pic.twitter.com/r9RJbRP0QM

— The Bachelorette (@BacheloretteABC) June 27, 2017

“So it was really hard to focus in there,” Jack Stone says. “Did you not notice? I kept staring at you? You looked amazing. You looked so pretty in there.”

Then he tries to kiss Rachel and Rachel is like “Eh, I’m sick, you don’t want to kiss me,” and he’s like no I do, and she’s like, no you don’t, and then he kind of pecks her on the lips and I AM DYING. I couldn’t be experiencing more second-hand embarrassment if I were actually the second hand on Jack Stone’s body.

OH MY GOD THE MOST AWKWARD EVENING DATE IN THE HISTORY OF THE BACHELORETTE HAPPENS

Note: If you’ve ever been on an incredibly uncomfortable date and don’t want to relive it, skip this, because I guarantee it will bring those memories flooding back. After watching and writing this I can’t stop thinking about this one date I went on where the conversation was the romantic equivalent of pulling teeth, so I lied and said that my roommate called to tell me my dishwasher broke. And I said I had to leave to “fix my dishwasher.” I might be a jerk.

Jack Stone tells the camera he’s falling in love with Rachel, which is strange because I think they’ve had maybe one (1) conversation before today. She looks as though she’d like to fall into the void she’s wishing would open up underneath the table.

Rachel says all the right things though, about how he’s great on paper, and how she’s hoping there’s some chemistry there. I find it hard to believe she thinks there could be after she looked physically repulsed when he tried to kiss her that afternoon, but I guess she’s all in on Bachelorette-speak.

It becomes very clear very quickly that there is no chemistry to be found when Jack Stone starts getting super weird. This, I have to say, is quality television. I’m laughing pretty hard as Jack Stone says, “I love parents,” and, “is your dad funny? I feel like I get him.” Rachel’s like “you don’t know my dad?” And Jack Stone’s like:

When it's just not there. #TheBachelorette http://pic.twitter.com/M78lb36ibz

— The Bachelorette (@BacheloretteABC) June 27, 2017

AND THEN JACK STONE SAYS HE’D LIKE TO TAKE RACHEL TO DALLAS, LOCK THE DOOR, AND JUST LAY IN BED AND HANG OUT

Which is what serial killers say before they murder you. I’m pretty sure Jack Stone is blacked out; I think that’s what’s going on. I don’t know how many drinks he had at Shuckin’ and Shaggin’, but he can barely string sentences together, and has trouble processing it when Rachel sends him home from the date for being the Mayor of Sketchyville.

I don’t know how to score this. I think we might be back to Team Goober. And I think it’s, like, +90,000.

LEE TALKS MORE TRASH, WILL EXPLAINS RACISM TO HIM, LEE DOESN’T LISTEN

Lee is trying to get Will to be on his side about the whole Kenny thing. And Will is like, “When you call someone aggressive, there is a long-standing tradition in this country of regarding black men in america as aggressive to justify a lot of other things.”

Lee goes on a rant about how he doesn’t respect it when people play the race card, and I want to put my foot through the television.

+320,984 points for Team Garbage.

ROSE CEREMONY

We know Lee won’t go home because they’ve been teasing the two-on-one date with him and Kenny forever. My question is: Are the producers making Rachel keep him around? Is she okay with this? She cant LIKE him. Ugh.

+10,000 points for Team Garbage.

+900 points for Team Bright Spot, because Iggy finally got sent home.

BRYAN’S ONE-ON-ONE DATE IN NORWAY BECAUSE SOMEONE AT ABC HAS CONNECTIONS TO THE NORTH POLE

I don’t know why, but for the past two seasons we keep going to the arctic. Nick took his ladies to Finland, and now Rachel’s taking her gents to Norway. Nothing against either of these countries: They both seem great. But whatever happened to romantic beach escapes? One of the producer’s dads must owe Santa Claus a ton of money and this is how they’re working through the debt.

Anyway, Rachel and Bryan go on the first one-on-one date in Norway, which is funny, because she hated Jack Stone and loves Bryan and they look exactly the same. Actually, they both look just like Joel Osteen, as Clinton Yates of The Undefeated pointed out. And then Jeff Weiner of the Orlando Sentinal made this:

I don't know what this is (network sitcom? cult brochure?) but creating it was a welcome distraction from what's happening on this show rn. http://pic.twitter.com/zGDpzTQicA

— Jeff Weiner (@JeffWeinerOS) June 27, 2017

Anyway, Rachel and Bryan-Jack-Joel go to this huge-ass ski jump left over from the Olympics (I think, I dont know, kind of made that up) and repel down it. Rachel is scared.

“I think I'm more afraid to let go physically rather than emotionally, but today I’m afraid to let go physically,” says Rachel, and it’s the most impressive Bachelorette platitude I’ve ever heard.

They make out in mid-air; Bryan makes these soft humming sounds while they kiss and I feel physically ill.

RACHEL IS INTO BRYAN, PHYSICALLY

Rachel and Bryan have a ton of chemistry, I’ll admit, so I think she just wants to seriously smooch (wink, wink) him. She wonders why Bryan is 37 and still single if he’s so great, and I’m like, hey, listen, let’s not assume people aren’t dateable just because they’re not already spoken for. I say this out loud to the pint of Ben & Jerry’s in my lap and the house plant near the television that I have named Steven.

Your friendly neighborhood Bachelorette, Rappelling Rachel! #TheBachelorette http://pic.twitter.com/ZXWAMOyXxr

— The Bachelorette (@BacheloretteABC) June 27, 2017

Rachel is being honest about not being able to believe it when good things happen to her when it comes to relationships. She says she doesn’t believe men when they say nice things, and that she has trouble taking compliments, because she’s guarded and skeptical. I relate to this, and would imagine many other women probably can too, so this is a big win for Team Bright Spot.

But then Bryan’s like yeah I used to be skinny and had acne and no one liked me but then I got super hot when I was a senior in high school LOL. Who among us, Bryan with a Y?

Anyway I guess they had a nice date, Bryan’s fine, whatever, who cares. I don't know why he creeps me out so much. He just does. He tells Rachel he loves her.

Let’s give Team Bright Spot +20,000 for this date because the bar is so low.

HANDBALL DATE AND ALSO OH YEAH PETER IS GOING TO WIN THE SHOW

“He was like Jordan in the ’97 Finals.” –Rachel on Will #TheBachelorette http://pic.twitter.com/3y76Moiplb

— The Bachelorette (@BacheloretteABC) June 27, 2017

So the guys go play handball. Alex the Russian dude calls the Norweigians vikings, and the Norweigian handball coach says, “Handball is life.”

Peter is so clearly going to win this whole thing — he and Rachel make out (she straddles him!) in a hot tub at the night portion of the date. They walk back into the main room three and a half hours later the way two college kids who had sex all night walk into the dining hall in the morning and have to face all their friends.

But Rachel gives Will the Immunity Rose because if she gave Peter the Immunity Rose everyone would be like yeah, I’ll pack my bags and leave because there’s no way I can catch up to how much Rachel likes Peter.

There is, however, this really funny moment when Josiah tells Rachel, “You are the woman for me. The woman of my dreams. I just want to grow old with you and I really, really mean that, Rachel.”

Rachel is like hey, the thing is, you don’t ask me questions about myself.

Josiah says, “Right. You’re so perceptive.”

He leaves the conversation being like, “Nailed it!” and she literally tells the camera: “Do I question it? Of course. He sounds disingenuous. He likes the idea of me than rather than really getting to know who Rachel is.”

I love how this probably happens all the time with dudes. Where a woman leaves a date being like, eh, he seems up his own ass and self-involved, and he’s on his group text with his friends being like “she loves me, bro, I killed it, we’re totally going to bone.”

#TheBachelorette http://pic.twitter.com/6eEiPIA3RC

— The Bachelorette (@BacheloretteABC) June 27, 2017

Team Bright Spot gets points because Rachel dunked on Josiah behind his back. +1,825

LEE AND KENNY’S AWFUL, MANIPULATIVE 2-ON-1 DATE

This is where stuff gets bad again. I’m still so appalled by how long this storyline has gone on.

I have a hard time believing Rachel doesn’t see exactly what’s happening. It’s not about her relationships with them at this point, these guys have become a side show. Yes, that’s what the two-on-one date always becomes — no one who goes on it ever makes it very far after. But this is the grossest yet.

The whole back-and-forth on the date is fairly extensive, but, in short: Kenny tells Rachel he isn’t aggressive the way Lee says he is, and then Lee lies and says that Kenny tried to pull him out of a van one time. Rachel says she believes Kenny.

This reminds me a lot of WWE. Kenny’s a wrestler. He’s the face. Lee is so one-dimensionally evil that I don’t know whether this is scripted; he’s the quintessential heel. The producers have set it up so the two of them just sit there talking trash to each other for a while, and Rachel isn’t there. I don’t know where else she could be if not told specifically to hang back, considering they just flew into the middle of nowhere on a helicopter.

Perhaps it’s real. But either way, we’re all being manipulated racism for ratinga, and it’s and ugly and I wish they hadn’t gone this shameful route. No amount of knowing or not knowing absolves this plotline of it’s terribleness.

Tomorrow won’t be any better — Kenny bleeds from the eye and weeps, and Rachel cries a lot. I am dreading this with every fiber of my being.

But hey, nothing like a bunch of active racism to promo the next episode! This has moved to extremely shameful levels

— Clinton Yates (@clintonyates) June 27, 2017

Team Garbage points: +2,890,267

TOTALS

Team Garbage: 3,223,051

Team Bright Spots: 24,525

Team Goober: 181,800

Welp, Garbage won tonight by a landslide and I can’t imagine tomorrow will be any better! Classic 2017 for ya.

[mightbedamian]

#TMIishTuesday #44 - Weird Sayings in English, German, and Dutch

Hey there, first off: I tagged some of my posts. You can find an overview of the tags I used on this page. So, if you are interested in certain topics like my life in the Netherlands, my coming out story, or posts about YouTube, you can now just click those tags and see only those posts. The page also includes a description of what #TMIishTuesday is. How handy, right? Oh and I also did some tagging for pics. There are like 10 pics of 3 people that I know and all of them are YouTubers, so… still check it out, if you want to? :D Let's start with the actual thing now, shall we? Hey there mighty people of the internet! And welcome to issue #44 of #TMIishTuesday - my weekly Tumblr post about what goes through my weird mind and what you guys want to know more about. It can be something very personal, it can be something political, it can be completely pointless - but in 99.9 % of the cases, it involves opinions. And mine as well. // Last week I went quite cliché - again and reflected on my personal year 2016. Veeeeeeery long post but totally worth reading, if you want to know more about me! // In other news, I held the first poll of 2017 and the first poll in like… 4 weeks or so (?) for you to decide today's topic on Twitter. And you guys were interested in what I have to say about those "Weird Sayings". And... you guys, I just love languages! Languages are everything: Strange, very straightforward, not logical, ridiculous, inventive, confusing, never the same, I could go on forever. This is probably gonna be a long post again. #ifyoucouldnttellalready I'll take some bits and bobs from my experiences of speaking three languages - within a minute at times - and bring up some examples from that. If you don't know German or Dutch, don't you worry. I got you! I'll translate to English. As best as possible. #notyetaprofessionalinterpreter Let's start with the initial reason why I came up with the idea to write about this topic: The word "fangirling". If you are not a fangirl yourself, you probably don't have a clue what I'm talking about. Let's take a look into the urban dictionary for help (that's a very handy website for checking what slang means btw, it has saved my life numerous times! Else I wouldn't have been able to understand a lot of videos). Urban dictionary defines "fangirl" as: "A rabid breed of human female who is obesessed with either a fictional character or an actor. Similar to the breed of fanboy. Fangirls congregate at anime conventions and livejournal. Have been known to glomp, grope, and tackle when encountering said obsessions." ...and "fangirling" as: "v. 1. the reaction a fangirl has to any mention or sighting of the object of her "affection". These reactions include shortness of breath, fainting, highpitched noises, shaking, fierce head shaking as if in the midst of a seizure, wet panties, endless blog posts, etc. 2. a gathering of two or more fangirls in which they proceed to waste endless amounts of time ogling, discussing/arguing, stalking, etc. the object of their "affection" " I first learned about "fangirls" on YouTube watching some international YouTuber. Might have been Tyler Oakley, who himself has probably more fangirls any YouTuber will ever have. Looking to the word "fangirl", it makes me notice two things: 1. It's an absolutely brilliant neologism! Perfectly descriptive of its meaning. A "girl" who is a big "fan" of someone: "fangirl". "Fangirling" then is just the act of being such "fangirl". 2. Why is the term "fangirl" so common, while I haven't even heard of a "fanboy"? Why do I have to be "fangirling" when I like to go crazy about a celebrity? Shouldn't I be "fanboying" instead? And thinking inclusively: What about non-binary people who I identify as neither "boy" nor "girl" but somewhere along the spectrum instead? It's that slightly discriminative thing that exists in lots of languages when they just use one word that has an attribute of one gender attached to it to mean both genders. As far as I have noticed, it's not that prevalent in the English language as it is in German and Dutch. Well done, you creators of English! When you talk about a hair dresser that is neutral. It can be either gender. In German ("Friseur" for male; "Friseurin" for female) and Dutch ("kapper" and "kapster" respectively) you don’t have a unisex form: "I went to the hair dresser's to get a haircut yesterday. She did an awesome job!" would be "Ich bin gestern beim Friseur gewesen. Sie hat es richtig gut gemacht!" in German and "Ik ben gisteren naar de kapper geweest. Ze heeft het heel goed geknipt!" (That’s probably not translated too well, but you get my point, right? :D) Notice how both languages use the male form instead of the (correct) female form. Just because you refer to the hair dresser's place instead of the hair dresser herself. Obviously the English language discriminates as well. Think about police men or post men. Have you ever heard someone say "police women"? No, you probably haven't. Granted, I've never lived in a country where English was the native language. But I think it's ridiculous that we have that separation in so many terms, especially with professions. If you want to use the politically correct form, it sounds incredibly unsophisticated. When I read German flyers that are published by governmental organisations, I'm close to puking. "Die Schüler_innen" - yes, there are not only male students in that class (and this form of writing also includes non-binary people - as opposed to “SchülerInnen”). But why make such a mess of it. I think we should introduce a neutral form to use in such occasions. We have neutral pronouns, even to describe people (think of they/them or ze/zir). Why don't we use them for these occasions as well? But alright, I can tell you are getting bored of my political correctness talks again. Let's get on with this post. How about false friends? You may have some in real life (though I hope you don't), but I'm talking about words that sound similar in different languages, but have a completely different meaning. First one that sprang to my mind: The German "Handy". I mean… I have to give you that: A mobile phone is indeed handy. But I've seen lots of people using the word in English to refer to a mobile phone, when native speakers would probably have no idea what they are talking about. Or take "actual" which is actually a great example! actual ≠ aktuell. The English word "actual" is translated to German as eigentlich, tatsächlich; the German "aktuell" means current or up-to-date in English. And there are obviously some with Dutch as well. Take the German word "allemal" and the Dutch word "allemaal". "Allemaal" is often added to a plural pronoun: "wij" (we), "jullie" (you), or "zij" (they), to underline that everyone is involved. And without a doubt it is one of the most frequently used words in Dutch. The German "allemal" is slightly old-fashioned and not used much anymore. It means “certainly” or “for sure”. Another example: The German "fahren" (to ride or to drive) is obviously used very often, while "varen" in Dutch isn't. It sounds very similar, but only refers to "travelling by boat" instead of including pretty much any means of travel, like the German “fahren”. Dutch and English are more fitting. In a way... For “actual” it’s the same story as with German (called "actueel" in Dutch). For the rest: "map" exists in both English and Dutch. But the Dutch word means “folder”, while the English word translates to Dutch as "landkaart". And finally: "room". If you ask a receptionist of a hotel for a "free room" (or a "vrije room") in Dutch, you'll probably get very puzzled and confused looks. Why would you look for free whipped cream? I mean... I'm sure you could get some at a hotel, but… The word you were looking for is "kamer". (And while we’re on it: The Dutch “room” is pronounced with a long “o” sound) When I write a post about languages, I certainly have to address the "Schmetterling" issue. The moment you leave Germany and start talking in a different language, everyone will make remarks about how harsh and really NOT smooth German sounds. And on the one hand you're right! German certainly won’t win the "Best sounding language" award. But on the other hand: Which language should win that award? Dutch also sounds very rough at times. Just think about the "harde G" (hard G) in Friesland and how it sounds to strangers. Let me tell you first hand: It sounds freaking scary! I mean… you'll get used to it, but at first it's very frightening! And English… I mean you basically get to choose between the incredibly posh British English and the American version that - sorry to you Americans out there - quite honestly sounds very wishy-washy to me. And at times the pronunciation is a little too drawn-out for me. Talking about drawn-out things: In an attempt to not draw out this post any more, I'll leave you with this. Tell me something cool in your language! What about "I really enjoyed this post"? :P Okay, kidding. But if you did enjoy it, please let me know anyway. You know the means to get to me: place a comment, tweet me, dm me, or do what else you can think of. And while you’re in it, share it around! Before I go, I'd like to introduce something new to these posts: The “TMIish Queer Shoutout” or so? (That's a working title - tell me, if you can think of something better, please :D). Long story short: In these posts I'd like to tell you about a cool queer thing that I discovered over the last week. This week: Jongens. A Dutch coming-of-age film about Sieger, a fifteen year-old who's forms 1/4th of an athletics team. The four will run at the Dutch championships shortly and over the course of the now intensified trainings, Sieger gets close to his best friend Stef. It's a great plot which shows the struggles of a gay relationship when one partner doesn't fully live up to it. Okay, enough of the spoilers! I suggest you find yourself a site that shows English subtitles with it and watch it! :D And if you know Dutch and don’t need subtitles, you can just head over to npo.nl. As far as I know, it's available world-wide. It surely is in Germany. So have fun! As always: Next #TMIishTuesday next Tuesday. If you have any questions in the meantime, just ask away. Whatever you’re curious about - I don’t bite. :) Until then: Stay mighty! Links for the stuff used/refered to in this post: - Urban Dictionary: Fangirling: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=fangirling - Urban Dictionary: Fangirl: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=fangirl - “Jongens” on npo.nl: http://www.npo.nl/jongens/03-08-2014/VPWON_1229280

Oh, and here’s some self-promo: - Last #TMIishTuesday: http://mightbedamian.tumblr.com/post/155355662606/tmiishtuesday-43-16-things-i-learned-in-2016 - More #TMIishTuesdays: mightbedamian.tumblr.com/tagged/tmi - Poll to decide next week's topic and more very cool stuff: www.twitter.com/mightbedamian - Even more very cool stuff: mightbedamian.tumblr.com