A sidenote to binding.

This is rather a short entry, something that happened to amuse me the other day.

Mother had mentioned not wearing binders again… but I knew I’d want to wear one of the easier to get on and off ones just to see the difference.

And… When I tried one on, it was STILL TIGHT. I have had this batch of binders for months now… and I thought they were knackered.


Thing is, I was just used to my chest being flattened. My breasts were long used to being pulled and compressed they were penduluming. That, and hormones had done their thing a little too.

The moment I tried it on I realised, my binders for now still do have a use. If I feel my chest is moving around too freely I can restrict it during recovery… or, I can of course let things be and get used to things.


The model I used is T-Kingdom’s 801 People shit on them being lightweight all of the time… but I love them, they’re easy to adjust to and good in summer. Easy to look after, and surprisingly, more than I had ever known before, they keep their elasticity.

The second model I use/d is T-Kingdom’s M1500, an older model of the design that didn’t have the logo on the chest (and the model before that with different tags)

It’s interesting to see that they also have a new model out I can’t find reference to the old edition but I will say now that I originally DID have one of this style, the new back design looks like it would be much more comfortable.

I also started out with this model, but the fit didn’t agree with me and the velcro was problematic.

Since I started buying the two types I know work for me they seem to have developed a few more Tshirt style binders. The best way to look at which design would work for you is to consider the information on This page (scroll up it also has information for first time wearers).

I went for the XL size in the end as I was a 38″back at one point, and due to the penduluming it was just better overall. When I first bought at least one set of my binders I had them in both Large and Extra Large and found the XL had more fabric coverage in general and was better for me.

NEVER wear one that is too small for any period of time. (The binder that was large did have give in it as the size difference wasn’t too major. The worst side effect of the sizing was the fat poking out because of the squeeze xD).




Sorry for the less than stellar updates lately, there has been a lot on my mind.

Now I have plenty of time to work things out, as, I’m recovering from chest surgery.

More specifically a double mastectomy with a dermal flap chest wall reconstruction. I had my operation done on the National Health Service (NHS), meaning, I had no choice with surgeon or hospital. Going private is something that a lot of people in my position find that they have to do, I was one of the lucky ones.

My surgical team was headed by Miss Grit Dabritz and for what I know she is based in Manchester, Lancashire. One of the other surgeons I met on the day has worked closely with a hospital far closer to my home and is (if I remember right) based in Bolton.

I was the second of two people in for the same procedure, I was admitted and marked up and had to wait a fair few hours to be seen… all the while the threat of being turned away as in the back of my mind. Emergency patients that come in do get priority with beds on a ward, there were at least five admitted to beds the same day the day patients department opened up.

I found it hilarious that I managed to sweat away almost half of the permanent marker markups while waiting in a very stuffy waiting area. It’s a good thing they do a standing and lying markup.

Having never been put under anaesthetic before I became more and more anxious about it. The people I had met had wonderful senses of humour and were all lovely. I remember panicking when I was being put to sleep, beginning to panic… and then, struggling to move as I was waking up again.

Apparently I was in pain as I don’t really remember a lot from that night. I know I was taken to the ward later than I had expected and managed to send out a text to my parents to say I had landed… and that’s about it.

I had been warned that as soon as I was coming round I would feel as if I had been hit by a bus, I was lucky enough not to be aware when that was the case.

It was (and still is) unnerving to think about the chest drains, well, I think anyone would be unnerved to see and feel tubes coming out of themselves with bags of blood attached to the ends. One of the nurses gave me a plastic bag to put the two drain bags in so it was a little less unnerving moving around, specially when I had visitors seeing me.

Don’t ever be ashamed of not having people visit you, but if you can… Make sure you see at least one person on at least one of your full days of admission. It will help break up your stay and give you something other than discharge to look forward to. If you can’t, I’m sorry try making the most of your stay on the ward by communicating to the bed either side of you.

Thing is, the anaesthetic was still working its way through my system and I was drowsy most of the time. Coupled with a bad first night’s sleep and the painkillers I was sleeping most of the time, or at least barely able to stay fully alert.

I had taken a book with me (only a small one, Phantom of the Opera), I had my phone, I had my 3DS. I managed to read the same passage four times before giving up with my book, I played through maybe one small thing on my 3DS… My attention span didn’t want to work at all during my stay and I was more than happy watching the world go by.

Two days after discharge was when I could finally poop. Sounds stupid, but Dad had warned me that his missus was plugged up for days… low and behold that was indeed the case. On the ward and at home I was constantly drinking water and peeing more frequently than I thought I was drinking.

Three days after discharge I had my follow up appointment with my practice nurse – my surgery was on the Thursday before a bank holiday weekend and I had to wait till the Tuesday to be able to see any medical professional post discharge.

Mum helped me to wash my hair for the first time in a week, knelt over the shower as she helped me get that sorted. At one point she recommended that I take my shirt off to make it easier – and quickly said ‘oh wait I don’t wanna see’ and turned so I could get knelt over the bath. She felt awful after about saying it, thinking it nasty… but… to be honest I get it.

At first I couldn’t stand seeing the dressings as they were, they freaked me the fuck out. Even after the drains were removed. After the visit to the nurse when the dressings were changed, that, that was when I started to calm down about them.

A week after Surgery and I still can’t lie on my side… which is irritating, but I knew that would be the case. I sleep on my side normally and having to sleep on my back is just plain annoying, I can’t lie flat either but hey ho that’s the way it is.


I can’t really think of anything really negative about things so far… just…

If you do happen to have your surgeries away from home, be prepared to travel the long distance a minimum of four times. No, really. Unless you wish to spend at least a fortnight at the surgery site you will have to back and forth it a lot.

First will be the pre-op, then the surgery (and post operative appointment soon after discharge), then a two week later-ish checkup, six months later.

When being discharged from the hospital I was told none of this, not even the type of stitches I had or anything. So, to find out four days after discharge that I still have another trip down to Manchester ahead of me I was rather pissed off.

I am not in receipt of benefits so I get absolutely none of my expenses for travel covered. Which, in itself is fine. I mean, if you’re worse off than me financially then I say see what you can and can’t get back. When I say I earn too much to claim, I mean that lightly, there’s plenty of months where I’m barely getting by, and I have to somehow find the money to go back to Manchester after the prior two trips practically wiped me out financially.


I knew I’d have to save up, but by the christ this is just too much. Without ANY warning. I mean, if I can have my followup from surgery at my doctors practice, why can’t I also have the two weeks later one done close to home too.


Oh well, at least no more binders. When I get back at home I will try one of the easier to get on and off ones on to see the difference. It’d be hilarious to see, that’s for sure. Even mum knows I think of them as a pain in the arse and mentioned them too.


I can’t honestly think of anything else to say on the issue, but hell if you have questions please do ask and I’ll do what I can to answer them.

Anger and Acceptance.

I happened on this video on youtube. The thumbnails are clickbait, but hell I was bored and curious. It’s actually quite a well thought out video as it covers positive female role models.

However, there are some issues with their first mention who is male. Rather, a female that is a Man. It made news quite some time ago and all of that shite… and, well, to be honest…

I can’t find fault in either sides argument. Just that he is far more selfless and brave than I am. The thought of giving birth truly horrifies me. I’m not saving my eggs. I’m having my womb out asap (for medical reasons as well as the obvious one). So, to me personally I can’t even imagine the thought of carrying a child. There’s no way he’d be able to breast feed as he appears to be post chest surgery… but saying that, how much would biology alter those results.

How much damage will have been done to the child due to the unnatural concentration of testosterone? Or not, simply because they would have taken in the aid and advice of the medical professionals around them to ensure as safe a pregnancy as possible.

Though, all of that shite isn’t the reason I’m writing this.

Take a look at this comment chain.

There is a comment that has spouted a LOT of responses. While on my mobile I had to press read more quite a few times to reveal that people are FAR too quick to attack those that make honest comments.

The original post has since been edited, for now it reads as this –

Biologically he still a woman inside. A man never can give birth.

I believe originally it was all caps and didn’t have the word Biologically. The fact that the post has been edited shows that the poster is willing to listen to those that actually speak with them as a person.

This is the first post I have submitted to the shitstorm

sorry you endured all of the hate and anger dear… perhaps the op needs an edit or two. Subsequent replies by yourself explain what you meant in a far more eloquent way. I dispise tumblr white knights… always on the attack. Where, I’m trans and… hell I know where you’re coming from and as far as I’m concerned you’re right. shrug

NOTE- A very dear friend of mine still has a tumblr. I had a tumblr (before the Yahoo buyout but that’s another story). I enjoy posts I see on tumblr. However, it has become a very irritating place to observe. This youtube video says all I need to about the site.

Their response to myself (darn near buried)

+Nolascana​ THANK YOÜ.. Your comment brought tears to my eyes..You touched my heart.. 😘GOD BLESS YOU

This is the second response I have left on the matter. At this point it might not even be the last… it all depends on who replies to me.

You’re welcome.

It surprised me how people were completely on the attack. Instead of trying to talk about things rationally, people that (in my opinion) have little buisiness getting as invested and involved in something of such a nature. My biological sex will never change. I know I’m only altering my appearance and chemical balances and so on.

So… yes, as you said. He is still a woman inside. As I always will be. A man cannot give birth.

Even the seahorse argument is moot. We are humans.

I think a lot of people went on the attack perhaps because of the initial phrasing and all of that.

There’s no sense in getting angry, if anything that makes people stick to their points even harder – whether they are right or wrong.

I have met people that have categorically said that I shouldn’t get any of my operations on the NHS. I’ve had others arguing back – with such anger- that they were wrong.
Thing is, I know where they’re coming from. But, likewise I said to them ‘fine, but I don’t want to pay for people that go to A&E for accidents involving alcohol consumption that could have been avoided if they were sober’.
My saying that, was, and always will be more effective than people fighting those battles for me.
I hope this ebbs down for you soon. Be well!

And to be honest… This is mostly how I feel in general about my situation.

Accepting. I know that this in many ways is a pointless journey I am on… but on the other hand. It is not.

I just hate how other people jump in to defend me on such issues. It’s as if I am incapable of talking to people that don’t agree with the way I chose to live. Transitioning is a choice I have made. A series of many. Because the alternative was not worth the pain.

I often find myself defending those that would probably spit on me on sight… purely because punching them is only going to anger them more than sitting them down with a coffee and telling them we will have to agree to disagree.


I am far luckier than your average transgender person. I hear so many stories about them being made homeless and being beaten for being who they are.

Thing is, I’ve managed to slip under the radar. I’ve lived in a homophobic area and not once drawn their attention. I’ve worked a poorly paid job and… well, managed to keep a poorly paid job I suppose.

I have moved country, and found the move has done me a world of good. I’ve had people ask SO many questions that none of them are original anymore.

I’ve managed to find a decently paying job, after only three weeks of unemployment, and managed to keep it. I now live in a city. On my own.

Not neccessarily where I hoped to live, but still, I’m making a go of it. My building neighbors mostly call me male, there’s one neighbor that calls me she.

People at work mess up the pronouns. I don’t always notice, or, should I say visibly notice. Sometimes I’ll ask my department workers if I heard what I think I heard… and move on.

At first, people messing up the pronouns used to piss me off. Didn’t matter who it was it’d annoy me. Now it’s water off a ducks back, because I know it won’t happen forever.

At work, I recently had one of the newer blokes confused as HELL as I was discussing one of a friend’s relatives. He has a niece that wishes to transition. And we were discussing perhaps the nephew meeting me, or perhaps having my details if he wishes to speak to me. I even mentioned his mother being there too if she wished. Everything would be done in the city centre n all that…

And the coworker looked at us both. I simply laughed and told him I’m a transman. I was honestly surprised to learn he didn’t already know. He had thought I was a gay man… though the odd thing I’d say, or others would say, didn’t seem to add up.

I’ve learned to be open about my situation. Colleagues have to have my back (thank you equality in the workplace legislation), or at the least tolerate me for me. I’ve had one of my department workmates simply shrug and say he sees me as a dude with tits… as, there’s been an occasion where one of my binders has malfunctioned to the point of restricting my breathing. I had to explain to him that an ambulance wasn’t necessary, I’d be able to resolve the reason of me being close to passing out if I went to the nearest restroom asap.

He’s not really seen me out of work, but he knows the situation, and he knows I’m pre op.


Hell, nearly I’m not.

I ALMOST already had my upper op… but, well, medical complications being what they are, I now have to wait till the end of the month.

I was too hurt to say anything about the cancellation at the time. Too scared to say anything about the impending operation prior to the events.

So… yes, milestones.

To me it’s just another thing… it’s… part of the process to me.


At least work is accepting that I will have a considerable amount of time off. There are regulations in place to protect me when I’m trying to get back into work.


I feel there’s an incredible amount of postcode lottery going on where some of the legislation is, however, I did move 300 miles away from where I was born. That move, if I hadn’t made it, I feel that I wouldn’t even be having my operation this year at all.


I guess, a lot of what makes this easier. A LOT easier, is that I have accepted a lot about myself, and the way people are.

I don’t get angry about as many small things, things that are petty and all that… I don’t make as many mountains out of molehills anymore. If I were on my soap box going ‘look at me, I’m a special snowflake and demand different treatment.’ everyone would turn on me within moments. Causing more trouble for myself, than just living my life…

I dunno.

Just, calm yo tits people… or, if you find that you are amongst more educated people. Contain the calamity that is your mammaries.

Is your switch on?

This is something that is largely from personal experience, and, from hearing people talk about others.

Now, personal hygiene is as much a social demand as it is a personal one. It becomes more obvious if you happen to live in a city that has a healthy migrant population.

Often, I hear complaints about one colleagues personal hygiene. It annoys me to hear them complaining about it… rather than going to the colleague himself, however, he has been spoken to on numerous occasions about it. What I found interesting was, it wasn’t just because he has bad habits… It’s because of the country he is originally from.

Another worker from the same country was with us a while, before she moved home it was observed that after every shift she’d just put her uniform in her locker. Every. Shift. When confronted about it she more or less explained that she did wash it, only every few months or so.

Now, understandably this horrified a few people, as hell I’ve resorted to running a washing line through my kitchen to make sure it has somewhere to dry, cause, you know, winter washing means it’s going to have to sit on the airers a while longer than normal and cause a backlog.

The reason behind her choice was simple, it’s the way things are done in her home country. The country she was working in happened to have far stricter ideals on personal hygiene and presentation.

Now, with all of that said, time to get down to the point of this post.

I have encountered three stages of looking after ones self. That does happen to include housework, social interactions, all those fun things alongside cleanliness.

As someone that struggles with clinical depression it’s not much of a surprise to know that there are periods of time when I just don’t give a shit about things.

Then it hit me, in a conversation with my mother -about housework no less- she said at least it wasn’t like when she was depressed (she has reactionary depression, often triggered by death.) she often looked at our home, and herself, and thought What’s the point? and proceeded to not give a rats arse.

Even when I had to physically drag her to the bathroom to shower, as she is a woman that is very ‘you must wash properly at LEAST once a day’ orientated. Even when I had to bring food to her, sometimes I didn’t know if she ate for days on end. The list goes on, and I’ll spare the complete rundown.

Stage one of giving a shit, when the Switch is on everything is hunky dory. One looks after ones self, the home is clean, they maintain what they deem healthy relationships with people around them. They can, and will make the effort, to be happy.

Stage two of giving a shit, when the Switch is half toggled, everything is kinda in limbo. One can look at a mess and go meh. And keep ignoring the fact it needs doing to the point where even procrastinators will likely shake their heads at you. Hygiene begins to not be a priority and gradually becomes a chore.

It begins to become troublesome to find excuses to actually go out and have fun, see a film at the cinema and so on. One is still capable of going to work, but continually asks ones self why bother… and, the same can be said for most things.

In the half toggled state there are more downs than ups, but sometimes a room will be deep cleaned out of obligation and knowing you’re nearing a visit from Kim and Aggie if you keep it up.

Leaving one’s bed when not obligated to go anywhere becomes a chore… only to leave for bathroom and food breaks is a bit much.

Only hindsight makes one realise that the Switch needs to be on.

Stage three of giving a shit, or, not giving one… is when the Switch is off. All bets are off and boy howdy is it a struggle to get the people who are incapable of looking after themselves to do so.

Having been in that state you go on autopilot, you go to the places you are supposed to go to. Only if you have to, likely only when there’s money on the line – to further one’s consumption of comfort food or means to escape the reality you find yourself in.

It’s all hindsight and you only spot it, when the Switch is on. Seriously, it takes just a moment, of a day, like any other day. When someone will turn around and go – Oh shit, what the HELL am I doing to myself.

Then, the routine will begin and maybe be kept up for the better.

But I do know it can be a chore. My switch is more of a toggle, probably because I’m just Lazy. I know I am. The flat keeps tidy for a while, then it’s a mess, then I tidy it again and so forth.

When it comes to looking after myself, well… that’s a bit hit and miss. Always has been.

Thing is, if you know someone that you think has suddenly developed a personal hygiene problem, and I’m not just talking about showing up to work with bad bedhair (I do it regularily, purely because my uniform requires a hat, so… I don’t look at a mirror while I’m getting ready.) I’m talking about uniform, smell…

Don’t be aggressive about it, but please do say something. I’ve said plenty of times to people I work with. It will hurt, but I’d rather be taken to the side if I let things slip than have everyone talking about it behind my back. Much like the colleague I spoke of earlier.

Believe it or not, for many people with mental issues it can be comforting to just have someone ask ‘are you okay?’. As someone who’s rather over talkative and chipper, it becomes obvious there’s a problem when I suddenly become distant with people I work with.

I do have a lot on my mind recently. People are noticing. People are asking if I’m okay.

I tell them I have a lot on my mind and for at least one colleague who knows the full story, she lets it go, or just smiles at me in a way that says it’s okay she’s trying to understand.


That understanding, knowing that someone cares enough to ask how you are, and in my case she’s the one person I work with that would be brutally honest if I was doing something wrong, or whatever.

You’d be surprised how much a difference having people you can trust in your life is.

If you don’t work, or you’re housebound and so on. There are means to get in communication with other humans, with the internet being what it is these days there’s little excuse.

One of my dearest friends and I share mostly written communication. We have been speaking for long enough to sense when something’s not quite right. Our typing patterns change, or what we’re saying isn’t quite the same as usual.

Every so often, I make sure (if I haven’t started the conversation with it that is) to ask if he’s okay. Sometimes it’s just with a simple ‘How’s you?’

As, even the strongest people, those that we think are always okay. Might need that extra bit of help keeping that switch turned on.

So, reader.

How are you?

Give Classical Music a chance.

No really, you’d be surprised how often it’s used in modern mainstream media.

Video games such as The Last of Us utilized an orchestral score, No Escape is one of the more broadcast themes – it has been featured on Classic Fm and the music (as well as other elements) received an excellence award. I’ve placed an example below for everyone, I’ve never played the game but I was introduced to the soundtrack by the radio.

I feel it’s worth mentioning that the Last of Us isn’t the first time a video game has had it’s music created on an Orchestral scale. Tomb Raider Angel of Darkness was such a trainwreck, but one of the elements that stood out to me at the time was that it was scored. One of the only games I knew at the time with such a detail, bear in mind this was back in 2003. Here’s the making of video.

Below is one of my favorite scores, from the soundtrack of the game, named merely as the main theme. I find it haunting to listen to, and, at the same time it’s not. Anyway, proceed!

Going back even FURTHER in time and I feel I have to mention one of the reasons for this post –  Kingdom Hearts, released in 2002 DIDN’T have an orchestral sound track. HOWEVER, it did feature one of the most awesome moments in a game I had ever experienced. A Night on Bald Mountain.

Originally part of the Fantasia sequences it opens up dramatically. Now, before anyone complains, the idiots that worked on the game managed to delete the soundtrack ahead of the HD remake that was being done at the time, yup, they goofed. But it was for the better, as they roped in Yoko Shimomura. She completely rescored 1.5 with an orchestra and built on an already wonderful soundtrack.

Flash forward to the 3D release Dream Drop Distance. 10 years in the future.

The music for Kingdom Hearts 3D: Dream Drop Distance was a collaboration by Yoko Shimomura, Takeharu Ishimoto, and Tsuyoshi Sekito, containing musical compositions from all three. Among the songs included are tracks from The World Ends with You, originally composed by Ishimoto, who remixed them for Dream Drop Distance. [*]

Now, the significance here is quite frankly the world of Symphony of Sorcery. It is based off of Fantasia. Yoko Shimomura was behind the game’s usage of the music and quite frankly probably was the one to alter it for the game’s usage – being able to loop it n all that jazz.

I would also like people to note that a Night On Bald Mountain is also there too.

One of the most awesome parts of the first Kingdom Hearts games replicated very well in the 3DS version. What made me appreciate it better was that the quality of music was far greater. Sure, it’s on a handheld device, but C’mon, the 3DS is probably more powerful than a PS2 was back in the day (don’t quote me on that).

So far, that’s Three video game references. Yup, and I could go on and on about more of them. More recently, more TripleA games have been aiming for a sense of atmosphere and quality, and they have been able to get their games scored well. It’s wonderful to hear them on the radio being as well recieved and respected alongside what we do call classics.

A lot of, no scratch that, practically Any film that John Williams touches has at least one award winning score. You’re a fan of the Star Wars themes? Great, you’re a fan of classical music, as, Williams scored with an Orchestra. Yup, that’s all there is to it in my book. The Superman Theme is one of the most Iconic themes ever (Ranked a low 296)

John Williams’ highest entry in the Classic FM hall of fame. Is currently at 108 and it is his score from Schindler’s list

The highest of John Williams’s 5 entries in the Ultimate Hall of Fame, this first entered the chart in 2000 and peaked at number 48 in the most recent countdown. This is the third highest film score in the Ultimate Hall of Fame.

One of John Williams’ most moving scores, Schindler’s List showcases the master film composer’s staggering ability to turn a tune that captures the essence of its movie. It is yet another great example of Williams’s ability to set a film in the most perfectly sympathetic landscape, producing, yet again, music that stands up on its own when the film is taken away.

I do heartily recommend a read through the entire list from 300-1. Have fun seeing how Williams’ scores match up against each other.

Each single entry explains it’s most recent and common usage. Now, before everyone’s panties get in a bunch… There’s a separate list specifically for movie music. The final 15 will be revealed on November 7th so there’s time to get involved and try and guess which film has the number one spot. There’s already at least two entries by Hanz Zimmer and company (People seem to readily forget that Hanz Zimmer and Klaus Badelt worked on both Gladiator and Pirates of the Carribean – which explains why a certain score of Gladiator is practically Jack Sparrow’s theme.)

No seriously, here’s the two.

My Favorite Classical Tracks (Subject to change mind you!)

Adagio for Strings – Samuel Barber

Danse Macabre – Camille Saint-Saëns

Toccata and Fugue in D minor – Bach

Curse of the Black Pearl/ Pirates of the Caribbean Theme –  Klaus Badelt

Gladiator Suite – Hans Zimmer {Which leads into one of my favorite tracks from the same film. Now We Are Free.}

Whisper of Angels – Amici forever

Time to say goodbye/Con te partirò/Por Ti Volaré – Andrea Bocelli

I will leave you my friends with one of my favorite pieces of music, that… I’m honestly not sure if it IS classical.

Yup, another one from Gladiator. NOTE – The lyrics by Lisa Gerrard are … well, frankly NOT lyrics. There is no English, Italian, or Latin or any translation from any of those languages to another. Anywhere claiming to produce it are morons. It’s on the DVD commentary somewhere that Lisa just made it up on the fly to the music as a placeholder or something and Hans loved it. Soon she became the lyricist and the only person that can translate the syllables will likely never do so or be able to. Here’s a site that’s gone into more comprehensive research on the ‘issue’. Rather… a huge bitching shitstorm of a comment thread that more or less comes to a head with the response I found. Scroll down a few more times to see people pretty much corroborating what I already mentioned xD

Back for good?

Alright, so… I didn’t lie when I said I had my mojo back…

However, there has been a period of radio silence. Sorry about that.

I’ve started writing for the Byzantine collection again and I don’t know how long this section will end up being. It was going to be a chapter of Hawk and the Shamrock… before I decided it had already ended at a good place, then the St Patrick chapter came out, then, I looked at the chapter and decided to keep writing it. Nearly three thousand words later I decided it was going to be better off as a multi part story… Just, I’m not sure how many parts. And I’m not sure how it will link up with the rest… But it’s there and it’s being written.


I also have a couple of Student side stories that I’m working on for the Blue Arrow. I’m working on the current chapter of it but I have a major decision or two to make.

I have an end goal for Keyah to become who he needs to be. Do I stick to that goal or do I keep the story going on and on till the dead horse is little more than skeleton? Do I make the character I have introduced stick to the brief plan I had for them when they came into the story, or, do I not (no hints to that, the answer may well surprise you).

So yes, working out if the character I do want to introduce will work at all, or if it is too much of a curveball for the universe the story resides in… And… frankly, if you haven’t figured it all out by now… yes, all of them are connected. Seriously, thing is, I’m not saying how. You have to read them to find out. Some hints are subtle, some are sledgehammers to the gnads.

Anywaaaay, writing moans aside – Below is a lil TL;DR basically with people are dicks, and I was ill with a headcold.

One reason for delay was the five weeks I was without a toilet, that drained me to no end… As I had a family friend staying with me on the back end of the toilet fiasco.

Now, my flat might not be the neatest, what with my Tron figurines being all on the same shelf next to Sephiroth and Vincent… etc… but it’s like. I don’t care if they’re not pleasing to the eye as they look cluttered. Small ones on the left bigger ones to the middle, I like it that way so symmetry be damned. Seriously, I had to justify the arrangement of my action figures and small scene sets…

I don’t care if your daughter would do it differently, your daughter has near crippling OCD from what you say so its like… fuck off if you split the sets up they become pointless to display. I have four of the arena set, I’m not sure if that’s the complete set… I think it might be as I went to a lot of trouble to get one of them.

ANYWAY, The boys creeped her out a little, I offered to put their cover over them (I have a ‘scarf’ thingie that is an imitation silky thing with skulls on, it makes for a pretty decent sunshielding shroud) but it was like, oh don’t bother (felt like doing it anyway aaaasss) I got interrogated about them and it was like, Look, back in Manchester there was a doll community almost, enough of us met up. It’s not for lack of trying that there’s no dollmeets up in Tayside.

THEN she pulls apart some of the artwork I had a dear friend draw me. I have the Original Ink of one commission that was mailed over, and one printed ink of another, and in the middle is a mid poster size printed coloured commission. She pulled the one in the middle apart, not only misgendering one of the characters (when it’s blatantly obvious they’re both male as – NO TITS) but is all condescending about the position of one of the characters arms.

She isn’t an artist, and just because one of her daughters wants to be a tattoo artist… it doesn’t mean that she can pull apart something that I adore. From an artistic perspective there’s not a damn issue, and the more I think about it from a physically possible perspective, well, just because she’s not that dexterous doesn’t mean the character in question isn’t either. One of the characters is leaning to the foreground while interacting with the other… it’s like she’s never seen an instance of foreshortening… and a character’s hair actually hiding the part of the upper arm you would see before.


Anyway, that visit annoyed the shit out of me so I decided to tweak the layout of a few things… which… in turn meant turning at least three out of my four rooms on their arse for a while. Unfortunately I became ill shortly after I decided to do this and was living in a mess.

I left for work and came home to a sty, on a regular basis… it’s not a good thing I can tell you.

So I felt like shit, was sleeping in well into the afternoon on my days off… and… Only really recovered this weekend. The wedding was August, it’s over a month after it. It’s taken me this long to actually recover from what a family friend said, alongside working and feeling like shit.

It’s finally got to the point where I can actually type this out and say ‘Fuck you, family friend, fuck you.’ I mean come on, I went to her place and nearly went into a slow and painful anaphylactic shock. That’s right, a home with only one cat was enough for my throat to start closing up on me. Because I was breathing in an overflowing unchanged litterbox for a matter of minutes.


My allergies reacted to her home more severely and at an incredibly fast pace as if she had at least four cats and was rubbing them on my skin/making me pet them/making them sit all over me.

If you are happy with your flat smelling of cat piss, I’m good with clutter. I mean, there was a damp issue in her place that she didn’t realise was a big deal until she found an overgrowth of mould that gave her asthma.

I shit you not. A vent wasn’t working properly or something for the kitchen or bathroom… and she let things get that bad that everything under her bed was moulded to fuck.


How do you let that happen, now, there’s mould where it’s like… aw shit that must have gotten damp. You know the black spots that come up on white towels if they’re left damp… Then there’s MOULD the kind that is beyond the little spots that refuse to budge.  Here’s a good example that shows she’s not talking out her ass when she says it caused her asthma.

Whenever I shower I use the extractor fan as it’s a small room and built into the place (for good reason) but even if I didn’t have one of those as soon as i could my front door would be open to let out the steam (top floor, and that door is the closest way of getting ‘fresh’ air into the place [compared to my windows] especially in winter, ideal for letting warm air out) and at the very least my entire flat would be open to disperse it. And, guess what, there’s damp extractors. I’d buy one of the dehumidifiers and use it post every shower if I had to.

Hell, every time I have my clothes horses up, even the heated airer! I have damp extractors near them. When winter hits fully I’m going to have one stationed in my bedroom at all times, I saw the condensation once (i’d forgotten to close the blind) and it wasn’t a pretty picture… And that was just me sleeping in that room with the door closed!

If I cook I can’t open the window without climbing on top of the units, so I will always have to open windows at both front and back of my flat to create a wind tunnel in my hall that will help with the kitchen… being aware of that I make sure to keep windows open post steamy stuff and keep the rooms open too…

So its like… your home is smaller than mine and at more risk. I know to check the fabrics in my airing cupboard and wardrobes for damp and moth issues… how in the hell did you not realise to check under your bed for a damn INFESTATION. I don’t keep anything but empty clothes horses and my wash baskets under my bed (empty) my wardobes are airy inside but I check them regular for signs of damp… My airing cupboard has the slatty shelf thingies to help with circulation… but I STILL CHECK.

I can’t afford to keep replacing towels n shit if they get mould on them so god knows why she didn’t. I don’t keep any fabrics in confined spaces where they will get excess moisture on them, sweat for example… It’s so easy to forget in winter, that’s why they have the wardrobe damp extractor thingies, silica gel packs, dehumidifiers, damptraps… So many things to avoid such situations…

Hell, when I lived in a three bed house we either opened the small window in the bathroom post (or in my case during cause it was always easier to adjust to the cooler temperature) shower, in warm weather we left the door open to the room. In cold we kept it shut. Even in a Three Bed House we made sure steam got out. If mum was in the kitchen with a lot of steam in winter it was a window and the middle door shut, in summer it was the rear door open with the middle window open or shut, depending on smell factor.

If we can worry about that shit in a three bed, how in the hell does someone miss something so obvious in a small one bed. She’s now got a medical condition which isn’t going away any time soon.

You know. That almost makes up for her talking down to me about shit she has absolutely no right to go on about…

13. Only to Fall

“Well… Shit…” Keyah blinked owlishly a moment before he went and poured himself a half pint of vodka, he made a gesture to his partner that read ‘just wait a minute’ before he downed half of it. “Alright, so. You’ve been talking to my granpa, and he sent you to someone else…” Keyah rolled his hand a little “And, now, down the line, you’re on hormones, and it’s taken all this time for you to be able to tell me?” Keyah was oddly calm, but there was no accusation in his voice.


“… Well it’s not exactly easy to tell the man I’ve been fucking that I’m a woman…” Dean felt like strangling Keyah… more of a fight was expected.

“…It’s not easy to hear either.” Keyah sighed and moved to look out of the window.

via 13. Only to Fall.

Well, whoops!

Now I know why I couldn’t write the next chapter of the Blue Arrow! Dean didn’t want to remain Dean much longer!

I am taking a LOT of liberties with Dean’s treatment and transition to Stephanie… But, I really don’t think that I should have to trawl through more than the ten pages of information on boob growth alone before writing this chapter up.

Dee’s family have big mammaries as far as the women go, Dean’s an averagely heighted slightly shorter man, so any breast growth of his wouldn’t be too hampered by height. There’s also going to be lots of padding going on in most outfits and… yes, Deanna is always going to be given away by those hands. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but a LOT of the transition will happen in the background.

This story is Keyah’s.

He still has sex with his partner while they can both stand it, but he doesn’t have unrealistic expectations. He’s not Deanna’s boyfriend anymore, they’re friends and fuckbuddies that happen to love one another a hell of a lot.

By coming out Deanna has forever changed the dynamic of the relationship. There’s no looking past that.

By communicating with one another they manage to muddle through like they always have done.

I’m a sap for character driven stories, and this is just another chapter in Keyah’s. His support network is growing and he isn’t perfect, but with the right amount of alcohol he’ll be ballsy enough to try anything.