#I like making trannies feel safe and welcome where I work!

[rubynyoro-n]

The cool thing about being a visibly trans barista is that the longer I work at a place the more trans people come in

Also I look hot as fuck whilst I work too

[formosusiniquis]

find your Suzie

Written for Day 2 of @stevieweek Gender Euphoria with bonus prompts t4t and Scoops. Coincidentally also hitting Day 5 of @steddie-week with Reunion/Getting back together lucky me!

Stevie Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 7679 | T | No Archive Warnings Apply | CW: Features Eddie using the word tranny to refer to himself | Tags/Themes: Transfem Steve Harrington; Transmasc Eddie Munson; Steve & Robin Best Friends Forever; Steve and Dustin have a sibling relationship; Childhood Friends to Strangers to Lovers; Small Town 80s typical discussions of gender

AO3

It’s been a long summer. 

That’s probably the least of what can be said about the month Steve has been working at Scoops. He has a coworker that hates him, the emotion he’s sure of the reason not so much. The kids only want to see him when he’s either giving them something or letting them in the back to sneak through to the movies. And his favorite kid isn’t even here.

Wasn’t even here.

It’s finally the week Dustin is supposed to be back from camp. And it’s not like Steve expects to be the first stop on the welcome back tour, Dust had sent a letter from camp -- surprising when he told Steve before he even left not to expect anything. Camp Know Where was the kind of camp, “that demanded your full attention the entire time you’re there, Steve.” Except when the counselors are requiring you to send one letter a week to the homestead so there’s no parents worried about dead kids or something.

That hadn’t been something anyone was afraid of when Steve went to camp. But he also didn’t have parents who cared if he went missing. If Mrs. Voorhees went nutso on his summer camp they would probably have just liked having the excuse to sue. Everything is a money making opportunity.

But Dustin’s Mom liked him, and Steve knew Mrs. Henderson would want first dibs on smothering her precious son with all of the attention that she hadn’t been able to give him in his month away. Then there was supposed to be some big Doorknobs and Dipsticks thing -- a name he was going to have to remember to repeat in front of Dustin just so Steve could appreciate the way it’ll make him groan.

Then after all that there will probably be time for Steve and Dustin time.

Which is only serving to make the day stretch longer. Because that’s the kind of summer it’s been.

After a month, it’s probably safe to say that nothing is really going to make this summer feel like a success. Something that he knew he was going to be able to say from the moment they handed him the uniform that it was going to be a miserable time. It was square and boxy, the ascot so long that the little red tie hung at his bellybutton. The shorts are okay, well they became okay after a trip through the dryer on the wrong setting changed them from baggy and saggy into something that cupped his ass and displayed a work safe amount of thigh.

He doesn’t even want to talk about the hat.

There’s a voice in his head that gets a little louder, a little more insistent with each shift as he puts on the uniform. There are only so many more things he can do while staring at his reflection in the mirror to make it shut up.

An end of the year haircut turned into highlights, when the thought of losing any of the length he’d been steadily growing out made him feel the same way getting called Little Guy used to make him feel. Which turned into figuring out the perfect way to get the blowout style waves in under twenty minutes, because he wasn’t spending more than that on hair that was going to get hidden under a stupid hat that was just going to push it back and make his forehead look weird. Which turned into noticing that his forehead looked weird so the things below the forehead had to look better so that no one would notice when the hat was on. The brown mascara had probably been Mom’s but could have been Nancy’s or possibly Carol’s, but either way it was sitting in the drawer of the third bathroom he looked in -- Steve knew it was there the whole time, it rolls in the drawer everytime he opens it looking for the nail clippers and every time it did he looks at it the way he thinks people who haven’t seen monsters probably look at snakes.

And the mascara was good. Gave him big, doe eyes that he liked watching in the mirror as the girl in there swayed this way and that, making sure the blonde highlights didn’t need to be toned to keep from going too brassy.

Only after a little while that stopped working too, and the mascara turned into a two step routine. Lipgloss, chapstick really, toned because it tasted like cherries.

And that was enough to feel like normal, for a little while longer. But the itch was there, a mosquito bite Steve wouldn’t stop itching until the skin was picked open.

But it was just loneliness. He’s always been like this. Left alone for too long without someone to distract him and he’s prone to spiraling. 

The summer right before freshman year when Tommy and Carol both got grounded for a month for getting caught at the quarry drinking, he spent hours alone in his room wondering what life would have been like if he’d been born as a girl instead. Thanksgiving Break ‘84, without a girlfriend and his parents in Toronto or Cabo or Ohio, he sat alone in the living room with the curtains drawn as Some Like it Hot played on the TV. With a blanket pulled around his shoulders, he watched Daphne more than any of the others. Wondering if he could ever go back to being Jerry now that he’d gotten to experience being other. By then he could quote along with the movie by heart, he had seen it so many times he could practically play it in his head when someone else had it rented. He flopped down on the sofa in time with Daphne, spoke aloud into the empty house with her, “I'm a boy. I'm a boy. I wish I were dead.”

Now, in the middle of the worst summer of his life. He’s had the movie out so long he thinks it would be less embarrassing to just never go back to Family Video ever again. It’s been so long since his parents have been home or looked at the entertainment center he probably could have bought his own copy. He plays it every night until he wakes up to the static of the television. Still it’s not enough to keep him from laying in bed wondering about the girl who first told him to watch it and what she would think about what he is and isn’t now.

But Dustin is coming home and maybe he’ll bring the Steve Harrington he’s supposed to be in a suitcase or something.

The next day the blue of his uniform washes him out. That’s the reason he comes up with to rub a little bit of the pink Avon blush he found abandoned at the back of his Mom's vanity. A thumb rubbed gently through it, picking up just enough of the color that it shimmers on the pad of the finger. He rubs it into the round of his cheek. Swiping and rubbing at each one until it's impossible to tell if any of the color is still there or if it's just from his touching that's left them cheery and pink. The blush, the lipgloss, the mascara, the hair. Steve feels something like happy at the reflection in the mirror. Everything settling less like the costume he put on everyday since the middle of senior year.

Then Dustin gets home, and he's found a top secret Russian code. 

They never would have made Jill or Kelly or Agent 99 wear a stupid fucking uniform like Steve's. But no one looks at him more than twice as he scurries around the mall with Dustin like the Moneypenny to the kid’s Bond or whatever.

He wouldn't hate it if the alt guy with the ratted out hair and vest browsing in the record store or the jazzercise guy looked a couple extra times.

Dustin stays at the mall for the rest of the day, hanging out in the back working on the code. In between customers Steve does what he can to help. Mostly that looks like trying to run interference with Robin. Her antagonism seems a little friendlier lately, but with her fun stolen now that Dustin was back -- and more important than trying to land a date he cared less about than sating the loneliness -- he could tell she was watching. When the mall is closed he walks Dust out the employee hallway, his bike shares the rack with Robin’s, the only two left even with cars still dotting the lot. He offers like every shift to give her a lift home.

“Like my bike would even fit in the trunk next to kid genius,” she says as she kicks off. Dustin unusually silent beside him. “I’ll catch you tomorrow, Harrington.”

The kid brother that forcibly adopted him stays quiet the entire time Steve is loading his bike into the back. But worry doesn’t set in until they’re pulling out of the parking lot and he still hasn’t said a word.

“So other than the girlfriend-”

“There’s really nothing going on between you and Robin?” Dustin interrupts, something steely but unsure on his face. “And don’t just say the same stuff about her being a nerd. You exclusively hang out with nerds. You obviously aren’t still holding on to that high school stuff anymore.”

He doesn’t know if it is that obvious, but even as he consciously setting that thought aside; the thought of dating Robin, taking her out and showing her off and possibly getting so far as intimacy, it feels weird. The kind of weird that thinking about dating Carol felt like, a half step in the direction of wrongness.

“Even if she didn’t totally hate me, dude, that’d be like if I asked you about dating El or Max.”

Belatedly, he remembers Dustin did have a capital T Thing for their random girl. But the comparison carries the correct weight.

“You have to find your Suzie then, man.”

It's hard to bite back the hysterical laugh, the thought that they'd rather be someone's Suzie. It's easier to push the twerp off than to touch that sticky, raw scab they couldn't stop picking. Still something about being in the car, the comfort of having their favorite kid back makes it feel safe to talk about a girl they’ve never stopped thinking about.

“I already met my Suzie,” a laugh makes it out before Steve can even think to stop it. “Literally Susan M. Even met her at summer camp, she called herself my boy named Sue.” Smiling out the windshield, they think back to that summer. It hadn’t been a reference they’d understood as a kid, not until Sue had made the joke again too close to one of the counselors. At home Steve had made Mom go get the album the song was on. They played it so many times they could find the track on the record without even looking.

“She called me her sweet Stevie,” they finish. It’s something they haven’t said to anyone.

That uncharacteristic quiet is back. Dustin looking at them; but with the softest parts of themself turned over, half exposed in a way even they haven’t looked at before, Stevie doesn’t look back. Just keeps driving the familiar path to the Henderson house.

“What happened?” Dustin asks, softer than they think they’ve ever heard his voice.

Maybe bringing up the lost summer camp love to a recent summer camp boyfriend wasn’t as smart as they thought.

“Tried to write but I guess they moved. People do that sometimes, I guess, send kids to camp so they’re out of the way during the move. Letter came back return to sender and she wasn’t at camp the next year.” They weren’t back the year after, determined old enough at 12 to stay home alone during the summer.

“Maybe you’ll find her again. If she was really your Suzie.”

“Maybe,” Stevie says. It’s easier than digging any deeper.

Later it won’t feel so much like digging when they’re sitting in the bathroom high.

Stevie feels like floating away, like underneath the skin it’s all bubbles. They’re there lifting up everything: the mood, smiles, secrets.

When Robin asks, “Have you ever been in love?”

It feels easy, for once, to bring up Nancy. It feels just as easy to say, “I think I met the love of my life when I was 10 years old and it was a girl who acted like a boy and treated me like a girl. Do you think that's like a sex thing and I'm just now realizing it?”

“I had a crush on Tammy Thompson and she liked you, that’s why I hated you.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

The moment feels loaded. Bubbles popping in the air. Stevie doubts that’s what an OD feels like.

“Tammy’s such a dud.”

“What and you think I should have had a thing for a girl like you?”

Bubbles again, bright and fast and fizzy like a shaken up coke. Exciting, explosive.

“Yeah, well, at least I can sing.”

Dustin and Erica interrupt karaoke but Stevie can feel something solid setting into place beneath the foamed up feelings.

It turns out being an adult and not having to go to school leaves you with a lot of time to kill. 

Being reported as the hero of Starcourt who pulled a bunch of kids and a coworker out of a burning building bought another year of living rent free in the Harrington house. That and the passionate bond with the female coworker who was still in high school. It was easy to make promises that neither of them planned to keep while on the phone with her parents. Lies laced with truth, the two of them would be leaving for whatever city Robin picked for college with every intention to stay bonded for life. That was good enough for Dick and Diane to look the other way for another year.

So with time and money to kill Stevie spent the hours Robin was in school looking for the kind of secret bookstores that Robin’s heard about. The ones with zines and pamphlets about people like them.

And they learn and they change. And she's chasing that feeling she felt in that dingy mall bathroom where her best friend called her a girl. She’s a girl, she’s a girl, she’s a girl. She sometimes feels like she’s Daphne at the end of the movie. Shaky and a few wrong sentences away from pulling off her wing and throwing in the towel.

And Eddie Munson is stealing her goddamn kids.

That’s a separate part of her new life. Not that it’s any less frustrating. She’s figuring out how to be her own person in a way that’s not gonna get her killed, and she has to compete for attention with the king authentic.

“If you’d just meet him,” she’s barely listening to Dustin’s insistences. She’s heard them all before and Keith is lurking somewhere in the store waiting for her to slip up.

“I don't want to meet your Geek Mother.”

“It’s Dungeon Master,” Dustin tails her around like a second shadow. “And I think you would actually have a lot in common if you’d just talk.”

“That there’s something wrong enough with both of us that we want to spend our free time with you gremlins?”

“Ha. No. You both like those shitty, pulp, horror novels, you both like cars, you both have a secret love of Johnny Cash.”

“Oh yeah, a real recipe for best friendship.” She rolls her eyes into the cover of Flashdance, somehow he feels like Alex will be more receptive than her brother. “I’ve got Robin, I’m not really interested in any more friends right now.”

“Okay, well, he’s kinda meeting me here so.”

“What? Dustin!”

The bell above the door tongs, Stevie glares daggers and nailbats at Dustin while she shouts out the required, “Welcome to Family Video.”

The sound of metal hitting something solid carries over the sound of Oxford Blues. Normally it’s the sound of feet shuffling on the carpet that gives her the chance to make sure she’s the right amount of everything. Surviving this slow paced transition on the virtue of already being known around town as a pretty boy, as long as she keeps the right amount of butch it’s fine. At least Molly Ringwald and Ally Sheedy keep their hair short. She’s taken them on as hair icons until she’s in a place where she can grow it out long like Farrah or Brooke Shields.

A place where hopefully she’ll be able to add the occasional skirt to her wardrobe. She adjusts the rise on her jeans, she’s got no idea where Munson is. It’s hard to track the slap of his chain in the store the way she can dragging footsteps. Tugging at the belt loops of her pants, the ones she got from the women’s side of the thrift store, she feels like it’s obvious from the cut they’re different. Swears they hug her differently.

She doesn’t know if she wants Munson to be able to tell, but he’s coming around the bend from the Romance section and she can’t really do anything about it.

“Henderson,” Munson greets even though his eyes are locked hard onto Stevie. It’s been a quiet day, maybe she left one of those butterfly clips El gave her in her hair.

“Eddie! Did you grab the movie you said you were gonna show me?”

“Where’s the fire, Henderson?” He has a nice voice. Pitched in a nice warm tone it has a husk  she thinks she can feel. Gives her goosebumps. It’s not that she didn’t know that already, or maybe she didn’t, in all the ranting and screaming he did at school she thinks she remembers it higher. Cracking even as late as his junior year.

He’s looking at her again, something molten and complicated in his eyes, “Why don’t you officially introduce me to your favorite babysitter.”

Dustin sighs, full bodied and dramatic. “You went to school together, do I really need to?”

“No manners in these kids these days,” Eddie jokes. “You are not the same person I went to English third period with.”

Something bubbles up in the pit of her stomach, a little bit fear and a little bit joy at being recognized as something different. “That could be because you were barely ever in third period English.”

“Touche. And in that case it's all the sweeter to meet the fabled Stevie.” He grabs her hand by the tips of her fingers, sweeps his other arm out as he bows and presses a kiss to the little gold ring Robin gave her. She’s surprised by the sound of her own giggle.

“Can we be done with what’s happening here?” Dustin interrupts the fireworks happening in the back of her brain like a mindflayer on the Fourth of July.

“You were the one that wanted us to meet,” she reminds him.

“And I immediately regret it now that it’s happening. I need better impulse control, you and Ma were right.”

“Really are the best babysitter in the world, humility out of Henderson is like getting blood out of stone,” Eddie teases.

“You were coming out of Romance, what is this favorite movie you were going to show me?” Dustin demands now, a pink flush to his face like they’ve succeeded in embarrassing him too.

“I could like romance, I contain multitudes. And I said I was showing you my favorite horror movie, Re-Animator got shelved there a couple weeks ago. My favorite is a comedy and never on the shelves.”

“Someone just brought back Ghostbusters today, and we were holding Goonies for movie night this weekend, but the kids have seen it before,” she offers, taking a blind stab at the kind of comedies that might make it to Eddie Munsons's favorite list. It's really a puzzle made more for Robin.

"Excellent features both, but I'm afraid my favorite is a little more black and white. Caught Some Like it Hot in a Marilyn Monroe double feature at the Hawk with Wayne as a kid. Used to rent it at the Blockbuster all the time before I moved to Hawkins full time, it's always rented here so," he grabs Dustin by the cap, shaking the kid's  head roughly back and forth, completely oblivious to the way Stevie's palms have started to sweat around the sticky case of Halloween.

"Who sorts their favorite films by genre?" Dustin asks, the question wobbling out of him with the shake of his head.

"I do, shortstack, by genre and all kinds of criteria your yet to be enlightened brain hasn't even thought to try."

"Sure, whatever, did you grab your favorite horror movie yet?"

Instead of answering, like a normal person might, Eddie Munson takes a step closer to her. He leans in close enough that she can smell the cigarette he must have smoked before he came in, the smell of his deodorant below that. His arm brushes against her lower back as he reaches and reaches.

She's gotta talk to Keith about getting the a/c fixed.

Eddie is close enough she can count the stubbly hairs of his not quite mustache. There's something about his eyes that reminds her of someone, but it's hard to place. Unlike the exact location of his right arm, currently brushing against the waistband of her jeans.’

And then he's gone.

In his hands he's got the black clamshell box of the movie, and Stevie feels a little bit like an idiot. "I could have moved."

"But then I wouldn't have gotten to appreciate the sweet, sweet smell of your hairspray."

With a sigh that could probably propel him into space, Dustin announces, "I'm going to the van."

And even though it doesn't really mean anything, it kind of feels like it might mean everything when once he's out of earshot she decides to tell Eddie, "I actually have that movie. That's why you can't ever find it, it's one of my favorites too."

Before he can finish the door alarm sound again, and she would recognize the sound of converse on the dirty store carpet even if Robin didn't immediately shout, "Stevie, you better get a brick someone locked your kid in their dirty van." She rounds the corner to find whatever scene she and Munson must make, the two of them too close together to be in a store with Family in its name right beside the horror section. "Oh."

"I'm across from Little Red, in the park," Eddie takes a big step back, hands stuffed in his pockets in a way that makes him look a million times more suspicious than if he'd just pulled away. She'd been right that it was a mistake to ever meet him. "If you wanted to bring that movie over sometime."

"We'll see, Munson."

He’s got the widest smile on his face that she only gets to appreciate for a second before he sweeps down low into a bow. The dimple in his face screams of a mischief that makes her think of childhood. “I know I shall, fair Stevie.” He nods at Robin, who trails him to the desk to check out while Stevie goes back to putting the returns on the shelf while they have that moment of quiet.

Moment of quiet from customers anyway, the second Eddie is out the door he takes Stevie’s last chance of peace with him.

“Were you just flirting with Eddie Munson,” the thought doesn’t tick up because Robin isn’t asking a question, she’s making an accusation.

“He was flirting with me.”

“But you were receptive to it.” She decides correctly and immediately. “Are you gonna go over there?”

Reaching under the counter for the wipes she’s started keeping there, Stevie carefully wipes off the gunk on her hands from the grimy video cases. Taking the time to try to figure out what she even wants to say.

“I’m just trying to survive. He knows who I am, who I was,” she corrects, “I’m not trying to do anything stupid that’s going to jeopardize our escape from Hawkins or being able to protect the kids.”

Pushing up to her tiptoes, Robin takes a quick glance around the store. Even though the room must be empty for her to even risk continuing the track Stevie has started them down, Robin still leans in close enough that she can smell the fruity scent of the gum that Robin always chews after lunch. “Maybe don’t jump to conclusions, you know the kind of rumors that go around about him. Like why he flunked gym twice before he got that doctor’s note, because he wouldn’t dress out with everyone else.”

She’s thinking about the guy who kissed the ring on her hand even when she says, “I think we already know that you can’t trust rumors. If they were all true then I’d be gay but compensating and you’d have gotten fired from the Hawk for letting the film burn because you were having sex in the bathrooms.”

“Part of that is true, I did burn that film reel.” She waves him off with a flap of her hand, stopping the movie on screen as it reaches the credits and tossing it to Stevie to rewind. She snags one off the counter at random and tosses it in the VHS player connected to the main screen. Stevie recognizes the start of Victor/Victoria as Robin leans against the counter in a way that screams she isn’t feeling as casual about the thing she’s about to say as she’s pretending she does. “And I mean, visually, it’s six of one or half-a-dozen of the other, right? You like both.”

“Okay, well,” she’s scrambling for something to say and she knows Robin can tell. “Eddie can just be my Vickie then, how about that?”

Stevie has backed them both into a conversational suicide pact. But she knows Robin well enough to know that she’s too scared to take the Vickie bait. While she’ll glare, and boy does she glare, she’d rather let Stevie get away with the blatant denial than admit she might have a real chance with her fellow bandkid.

“I think I’m gonna add Notre Dame to my application list.” She changes the subject, right on time.

When she’s holding a single VHS tape outside of Eddie Munson’s trailer with her hair carefully styled and her favorite lipgloss on. It’s too late to be wondering if maybe she’d been a little bit too right about calling Eddie her Vickie. The cab of the beemer is looking especially inviting, but she’s been in the Mayfield trailer when people have pulled up to their houses and there’s no way in hell that the Munsons haven’t heard her pull up.

A curtain twitches, like someone inside is aware of her internal debating. She tugs on the sleeve of the soft, colorblock sweater she’s got on, forcing the neck to ride a little lower on one shoulder.

And as the plastic case creaks in her hands she gives in and knocks.

Eddie is breathless when he answers the door, even though she was positive he was the one twitching the curtain just a second ago. He has a hoodie on that matches her out of season sweater.

“I wasn’t expecting you to actually show up,” he says, “I didn’t think to mention that my Uncle is asleep.”

“Oh!” She isn’t sure what else to say, standing on the porch with the news that she wasn’t actually expected.

“I just mean I would have told you to come by after he was awake so we could actually watch the movie.”

She glances back over her shoulder at her waiting car, “So should I-”

“No!” A strong hand closes gently as the friendship bracelet Robin made her around her wrist. “I’m not doing this right. I just mean you’ll have to kill some time in my room with me.”

“That’s some line.”

His eyebrows disappear into his bangs, the faint flustered pink that had been taking over his cheeks blooming into something someone who wasn’t staring intently at his face would notice. With a doglike shake of his head, he says, “This isn’t going the way I thought, hold on back to one.” And the door is shutting in her face.

When it reopens a bare second later, Stevie is sure she must be gaping.

“Hi Stevie, thanks so much for coming and bringing that movie we talked about. My Uncle is asleep in the living room right now, but don’t worry he works nights so he’s a sound sleeper. If you’ve got time, we can hang out in my room for an hour until he gets up and then we can watch it together.”

“Hi Eddie, thanks for giving me the 411 so clearly and without any possibility of confusion. It sure would be embarrassing to think that you hadn’t actually wanted me to come over.”

He pulls her in off of the front porch into a house that has things. After keeping herself awake last night worried that she would accidentally reveal something with her familiarity with the movie or that she wouldn’t be able to stop staring at Eddie. But with the mugs and the caps hung up on the walls, there are hundreds of things to distract herself with while she hangs out with him.

“Wayne’s a semi-professional thrifter.” Eddie tells her, it's hard to know if he's correctly interpreting her awe.

“Is he not good enough to go pro?”

That dimple is back, deep as the quarry dug into the side of his face as he drags her past the man in question, asleep on the pullout couch. “Oh he is, but he's too scared to quit his day job. He prefers to keep it a hobby.”

Before she knows it, she's a girl in a guy's bedroom on what's questionably a date. And according to some of the zines she's been a girl in a guy's bedroom a lot of times, at team overnights and birthday party sleepovers. 

But this feels different right now. Maybe it's the knowing: that there isn't something wrong with her and that she is what she is. Maybe it's the not knowing, does Eddie have expectations for the afternoon? And she doesn't have a clue what he does and doesn't know. 

As her wheels are spinning against the road, trying to grab onto anything to get moving, the babysitter brain kicks in. Instinct the snow chains of the mind, later she'll talk to Robin about whether she should be concerned about that.

“3 inches!” 

Eddie freezes with his hand on the door, more like an inch from latching.

“I, um.” He's looking at her now, and she's scrambling for an explanation that sounds better than ‘I've listened to multiple baby teens complain about this particular prophylactic and now that I'm on the other side of the bedroom maneuver I'm feeling a little inexperienced.’ She just isn't sure how well that would go over.

“The hinges squeak, good call.” He flops down on the bed, beckoning her a little closer. All she can think to do is sit at the edge, it makes her feel prim, too proper and too aware of the way her body fits in this room.

After the silence starts to drag, and she starts to question whether or not she's made a single good decision since November of 1983, Eddie asks, “So, what makes Stevie Harrington tick?”

“What do you mean?”

“Single handedly supporting the social lives of a generous handful of mouthy teenagers via unpaid taxi service, enjoys black and white cinema or at least enjoys this movie enough to risk the wrath of the VHS gods,” he ticks each one off on his fingers as he goes. “What else is there that makes you, you? Do you like piña coladas, getting caught in the rain? You look like you could be into yoga.”

The tension breaks like it had never been there to begin with, she tries to hide her laugh in her hand. The door is open, and Eddie's uncle is sleeping. “Oh my god is that that Jimmy Buffet song?”

“Escape is not a James Buffet number, your majesty, that's Margaritaville. And you're dodging the question.”

He's calmer than she remembers from high school, but still that bright passion he seems to have for everything is too much to look at directed at her. The warmth of him as hard to look at as the noonday sun. “I don't think I'm that interesting,” she casts her gaze around the room instead looking at all the personality that Eddie has shoved into the place in the few years he's lived here.

“I think you're lying.”

His closet is bursting from its boundaries. A sea of black pushing its way out in a waterfall of clothes onto the floor. 

“You think I’m lying about being boring?”

Jeans, shirts for bands she’s never heard of, a skirt.

“Tell me one weird fact about you, and I’ll tell you how you are definitely not boring,” he insists.

Skirts, multiple, now that she's looking she can recognize the shape of them. Is that a heavy metal thing? If she changed her style could she get away with finally wearing one in public.

“When I was a kid, I rode my bike to see 101 Dalmatians in theaters like six times. Then one day I found this fur coat in my mom’s closet and I made her get rid of it because I didn’t want her to be the kind of person who could own fur.”

“An animal activist,” Eddie says, “see, interesting. And proof of my bigger point that you, Stevie, are one of the best Hawkins has to offer. Aren’t you?”

It’s hard to imagine how he got there when she’s mentally rifling through his things, trying to figure out a way to ask about-

“They’re gifts from confused but well meaning long distance relatives.” Eddie explains, done politely ignoring where Stevie’s attention was actually focused. “I was a tomboy as a kid, so when they heard I was a tranny I guess they got confused. I felt bad donating them or throwing them away, made with love.”

That’s probably the bravest thing she’s seen that doesn’t involve flesh eating monsters. Stevie musters up the courage she taps into when fighting those monsters to say, “Me too, opposite direction. Obviously.”

“That would make you the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen then, Stevie Harrington. And definitely still the most interesting.” 

Euphoria, big like soap bubbles, fills her chest. It already feels like she could float away when he asks, “You wanna try one of them on?”

“You wouldn’t care? You just said they were homemade.” She’s already off the bed though, running a thumb over the soft black cotton. Up close she can make out the faintly lighter blacks and greys of a flower pattern. It’s beautiful.

“Well I wasn’t blessed with the gorgeous ass you’ve got, but it should fit just fine.”

She doesn’t have to be told twice, it's off the hanger and clutched in her hands before Eddie’s finished complimenting her. And oh, that sends some of that bubbling joy flooding a little farther south.

That new not revelation is easy to table. Drowned out by the feeling she gets when the skirt swishes around her knees. Light and floaty as cotton fabric. She’s a balloon flying out of some kid's hand disappearing into the clear blue sky.

“What do you think?” She twists and twirls, the long fabric spinning out around her like a princess in a Disney movie.

“Pretty as a picture.”

Her eyes snap up from the swirling black of the skirt, in time to fall down deep into the dark expanse of Eddie’s focused gaze. Hot and heavy on her.

For a second, it throws her back to when she was a kid. Standing on the dock at the camp lake, a pair of dark brown eyes staring at her while her beach towel wrapped around her like a dress. Twisting this way and that, posing with a hand in her hair that had grown longer than she was usually allowed to keep it after a missed summer cut. They’d just climbed out of the water, fingers pruny and faces ruddy from laughing. 

“How do I look?”

“Pretty as a picture!”

“Thanks, Eddie.”

Mouth open, whatever he’s about to say that warrants the way his eyes go soft and nervous is swallowed by an older man’s voice shouting down the hall, “Ed, you and your friend can come out and use the living room. I’m up.”

It’s refreshing, having one more person she can be herself with, fully. Having someone who understands even better than Robin what it feels like to be different. To feel the way she’s always felt. It’s hard to believe he hasn’t been in her life for forever the way he slots into it so easily.

But then maybe Dustin had a point, she has a way of attracting nerds.

And once they’ve found her they latch in and don’t let go. Feral cats every single one of them.

“Just put something on, Stevie, I swear to god.”

Eddie’s where he is most of the time these days, flopped sideways across her bed. Hair hanging off the side in a dark wave. Ratted out as it is it’ll defy gravity for longer than natural when he sits up again. But it looks beautiful now, the way Eddie always does.

“You say that now and then it’s all, ‘did the estrogen break your eardrums? How can you even like Wham?’ and ‘The only good thing Fleetwood Mac ever did was break up.’”

There’s a thump behind her, she doesn’t have to turn to know he’s flailed his way onto the floor. She does turn to see how his hair lifts up from the roots like the bride of Frankenstien. “I did not say that shit about Fleetwood Mac, Rumours is one of the best albums of all time.”

“No, you’ve just defamed everyone else in my record collection.”

 “It can’t be everyone,” he groans, “your entire collection can’t be Wham and Huey Lewis.”

“You’re forgetting Madonna and Blondie, pretty sexist of you Munson.”

“No, the ladies are where your taste shines through. That’s my planned window in, you see,” Stevie turns back to her record shelf, carefully paging through each one while Eddie talks. ABBA, Adams, Benetar, Bowie. “I’m gonna make you a real rock’n’roll mixtape, get you on the right path. Joplin, Heart, The Runaways, Girlschool.”

She lands on the perfect album, tosses it on the table and starts it spinning. It’s not until the jaunty guitar starts bouncing that she realizes what she’s done.

“Shit, sorry, let me set it back. You probably want to listen from the actual beginning of the album.”

“No, no, leave it, it’s fine.” Eddie says in the toneless way she’s noticed he gets when he’s focused. “Do you always skip straight to this track?”

“Yes?” Stevie knows this is one of those times when the answer she’s giving is going to mean something even if she isn't sure what the question hiding under the first is.

“Is there- I mean, is this just your favorite song or do you always start three tracks in on the B-side when I’m not here?” His laugh is weak, and it’s noticeable when everything about Eddie is so sure and strong.

She tugs on a single lock of her hair, twirling it around her finger before tugging. A nervous gesture she’s picked up from Eddie, now that it’s long enough. “There was this kid I went to camp with, first love shit, you know. We lost touch but she called herself my Boy Named Sue all summer. When I got home this was the only song I’d play for months. It’d finish and I’d pick the needle up and put it back at the start for hours. I really hope she’s doing okay now, however okay looks like for her. 

“Anyway, it’s just a force of habit. I can put it back to the start or pick a new album if you’ve got shit to say about the man in black too.”

There’s a dazed sort of reverie on Eddie’s face that he doesn’t snap back from until she moves for the record player. “No, no, play it again. I, um, shit- Okay, so I need you to not be mad at me.”

She doesn’t even need to look to set the track back to its start. Eddie’s got his hand fisted in his hair, pulling at it hard enough that it hurts her scalp, chewing at his bottom lip. Nerves have always made her a little mean. “I’m already feeling a little mad at you, say what you’re going to say.”

“I was going to tell you that first day we were hanging out,” he’s digging around in his back pocket for his wallet like it isn’t on a leash he could tug on like a dog, “we were sharing these mutual coming out moments and I thought, ‘now’s the time I’ll tell Stevie, everything is going to be great.’ Only Wayne woke up and ruined the moment and the longer we kept hanging out the harder it was to bring up again.”

“Just spit it out already.”

The photo insert hits her in the chest. Fumbling, she bats at it between her two hands before she’s able to get a firm catch. Raising both her eyebrows in a question Eddie barely answers with a wave of his hand. Even as she rolls her eyes, she looks down at the photo in her hands. A larger picture, carefully folded so that two kids are at the center. She recognizes the picture, has a copy of it in a shoebox in the back of her closet where she keeps all the tiny precious things she doesn’t want her mom to throw away when she starts decluttering. A picture of everyone who made it to the last day of summer camp, and now made center of this one is a ten year old Stevie with her arm flung tight around… Around Eddie.

“Surprise,” he says.

“You're? And you've been?”

“We moved right after that summer, I’ve told you the kind of guy my dad was. Not like evil or anything, just incapable of keeping his nose clean and he’d gotten into some trouble in Fort Wayne that sent us to Indianapolis for a bit. When I tried to write, I realized I’d either lost your address or it’d been thrown away.”

“What about when you got to Hawkins, with Wayne?”

“My voice still cracked when I got nervous, and you’ve always been the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. And it wasn’t like I looked the same way I did when we were kids, and at first you didn’t either.” She remembers the way she styled her hair back then, the tragic mustache she’d tried growing freshman year cause maybe that would make her feel the way everyone else said she was supposed to. “You looked muted, sad. But then I saw you laughing, at an FFA party I was dealing at, and when you tossed your head back I finally saw Stevie again.

“And when Henderson started coming around talking about his best friend Stevie. Stevie, who was the coolest person in the world. Who kept taking on all the worst parts of the world to keep people safe. And I latched on to him as hard as I could hoping I might get to see you again. If it was puppy love when we were ten, I've got a whole dog pound now I'm so in love with you. Maybe that's crazy to say.”

She can't listen anymore.

“Eddie, stop.” Before he can shut himself down, shutter closed and make his excuse to leave, she lets her own confessions tumble out faster than she can think of what she even wants to say, “You have made me feel more like myself since we first met.”

Her skirt, a deep plum and stolen from Eddie's collection, gets tangled around her ankles as she knee walks close enough that she can touch him. “You've given me confidence and clothes and a name.”

“I added an -ie, Sweetheart.”

“And I like it! It feels like me. I feel like me, and you helped me get there.

“Maybe it is too early to say things like I love you, but I loved the boy who refused to make friendship bracelets for anyone else at camp but me and now he's just promised me a mixtape.”

Stevie knows she could go even longer, could give a Shakespeare worthy speech about all the ways she likes Eddie Munson and what he has come to mean to her as the summer love she cherished in her heart and now. She could, but it's swallowed by the press of Eddie's mouth against hers. An ugly, spitty, puckered lip, perfect first kiss.

She gently corrects the motion until the kiss becomes something sweet and gentle. The kind she'd been hoping for when she'd gone back to camp that following summer. Something that belonged to sunscreened skin and freckled faces. Soft, innocent. But felt just as right here in the bedroom she’d grown up in with Johnny Cash on the stereo and the scent of the perfume she was trying out hanging in the air.

Eddie pulls away, moving just far enough to lean his forehead against hers, his hand coming up to cup the back of her neck. She can feel each slow exhale against her mouth. “I’m really glad I found you again.”

“I’m really glad you found me too.”

[the-queer-look]

a new generational understanding

Be aware that the following interview touches on some topics and references terms that may be distressing to some readers, particularly of the transgender community

CW: slurs, references to forced sterilisation of transgender people in Japan

Name: Alicia Age: 21 Gender: Non-Binary Genderfluid Sexuality: Pansexual Location: Redfern

I live in Redfern, and I love it, definitely my favourite suburb of Sydney that I’ve lived in so far. I’m originally from Japan, and moved here when I was fifteen, so sometimes English doesn’t come super super naturally to me despite having a strong Australian accent from growing up learning English from my Australian speaking dad, I feel that just because someone is capable of sounding like they’re from a place, does not mean that they are. There are several friends of mine with very strong Japanese accents, who have much better masteries of the English language. As a result of both sounding very Australian, and being frequently mistaken for caucasian, I’ve taken to wearing nods to my heritage as a part of my “look” - I feel that as with gender identity, when it comes to racial and cultural backgrounds, it’s never safe to assume.

I feel that I’m very blessed to be born into this generation, and that it’s much easier to talk about concepts of gender and sexuality with people from this era. Even just ten years ago this probably wouldn’t have crossed my mind, or been an option that I’d have known about, I would’ve just felt like something was missing and thought that that’s what life was like. Even to my straight friends who aren’t particularly engaged in the queer community, these concepts are so much more out there now, that I can tell them that I’m Non-Binary and they know what I’m talking about. I feel like once I started to understand and accept my being Non-Binary, I started to embrace and experiment with my feminine side a bit more, whereas when I only identified as a Cisgendered Lesbian, I felt like I needed to dress much more masculine.

Since I was in Japan until I was fifteen, I wasn’t exposed to anything remotely close to queer culture until I moved to Australia, and started to sere things on TV and social media. That upbringing in Japan leads to my favourite joke “My gaydar is so bad I didn’t even know I was gay”. People are quite blessed here in Australia, but don’t realise it, so all those Aussies who don’t know how good they have it with freedom to be themselves, take a step into any truly conservative country, and you’ll be astounded at how lucky you are. The only household queer label that everyone would know and understand in Japan would be as a closest direct translation “tranny” and not specifically meaning crossdressing, but a very derogatory term to mean different sexuality, and an abnormal relationship with gender. Of course, It’s been a few years since I’ve been back, so hopefully things are different.*

I actually thought that the norm was that everyone was naturally bisexual. It’s very naive, but until I left high school, I thought that everyone was into everyone, but because people wanted to have kids, they just ended up with someone they could procreate with. It wasn’t until I actually mentioned this to someone and heard their reaction that I had a bit of a google and came to the conclusion that I was probably Bi. Then when I was eighteen I realised that my attraction to men was… underwhelming, and I started branding myself as a lesbian. It’s been a long time of self revelation, and discovery, but eventually I met my girlfriend, and we’ve been together for three years as of today. When I met her it was the romantic “music starts playing in the background and everything else falls out of focus” moment that you always dream about. I know that labels and identifiers give a lot of people a lot of power in themselves, but I feel that putting a label on myself would stunt my growth, so I just label myself as pansexual, even though girls are definitely prettier. (I’m honoured that you interrupted your anniversary to have this interview and photoshoot – K)

When I first realised that I was queer, I did every stereotypical butch lesbian thing that I could – the carabiner keys, the docs, shaved my head fully, but after a while I began to feel like I was putting on a mask rather than being my authentic self. I now rotate my presentation based on how I feel from day to day, but it’s overall much softer, much warmer.

I feel that my level of involvement in the queer community is… not as much as I’d like. I try to support queer artists, queer films, events and such, and always try to be involved with new projects when and if I find out about them. Regardless of my level of involvement, I do feel quite connected to the queer community at large. That being said, there are definitely parts of Sydney that are more focussed on specific areas of the community – I feel less welcome in Paddington than I do in Marrickvile for example, but there are always parts of Sydney where the vibe is much more intersectional than the rest.

I like that queer culture is being more positively represented in media these days, but at the same time I feel that the main purpose of those corporations that are providing that representation is just to make the maximum amount of money from it, whilst putting in the least amount of work to portray a nuanced understanding of the culture.

Being Queer to me, is to be fully and truly my authentic self. It is about being this ever-evolving, fluid person that is content and proud of who they are, at any gender or sexuality. Not to mention the queer community is literally full of the best people I’ve ever met in my life, so being queer means I get to be a part of that family, which is just so amazing.

*at the time of transcribing this interview, transgender people in Japan are still forced to undergo sterilisation

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[someflareoutwithlove]

Five years...

Trigger Warnings: Transphobia, Abuse. abandonment, homelessness, suicide

A writing about Damiens coming out experience to his family, and how it all went down. 

Damien stood in his bedroom, locks of his once long black hair laid at his feet as he chopped at it, determined to make it short. He knew it was going to look horrible, but at least he would start to look like himself. He didn’t care if it was uneven, he didn’t care if it looked like a toddler with a chainsaw went wild on it. 

Just as he put the scissors down there was a knock on his door, still covered in streamers and with balloons that bobbed half way from the ground as they slowly lost the helium that filled they four short days ago. 

“Amelia” his mothers soft voice called from the other side of the door “dear, are you alright in there? We haven’t seen you all day.” She was the kind of woman you’d see ringing the Salvation Army bell. Long dark hair, pulled into a bun at the base of her skull, and the gently eyes of a sunday school teacher. A feature that Damien always found comfort in.

“I’m okay mom” Damien called out “just- doing some reading. I’ll be out in a little bit. I- I need t-to talk to- to you all abou-about something imp-or-important.”

“Are you sure you’re okay huh” she asked “you’re stammering is getting pretty bad.”

“Y-yeah.. Like I said- I- it’s important.” 

“Did Elijah get you pregnant? You know that boy is sweet, but I don’t think he’d be fit to be a father, not this young. But I’m sure he’d be more than happy to stick by you, and be your husband.”

Damien felt his face turn a bright red. It had been nearly a year since he came out to Elijah. Two years since they broke up. “No, mom. Tha-that’s.. that’s not it. We- we uh- we decided that- that we work better as- as just friends a wh-while ago.. remember?” 

It still hurt, however. Damien still found himself having feelings for his friend. His smile, his laugh. The way his eyes lit up as he talked on and on about almost anything. The freckles that speckled across his whole body, and his soft belly that made him perfect for using as a pillow. He was Damien's best friend for many years, and someone Damien loved. 

“Okay if you’re sure hun” his mom said “I’ll see you downstairs in a bit. Annabelle is making dinner tonight, she learned a new recipe from a classmate in college. I love you baby girl.” 

Damien let out a small sigh before calling out “love you too, mom.” 

Half an hour passed, Damien still stood staring at himself in the mirror as he slowly wrapped a bandage around his chest. He knew it was bad for him- and he knew how much it could hurt him. But this was all he could do for now. It was all he had. If anyone asked him now, despite still doing it, he would tell them not to. Sure, Elijah and his sister had offered to buy him a proper one, but he refused.

He never liked people helping him like that. It made him feel guilty. Like he’d owe them something in return. Or- like he was using them, despite that being far far from the truth. 

He pulled on a light blue shirt, and the purple sweater he’d gotten for his birthday days ago. Slowly he zipped it up. There was no going back now. This is who he was. And his family had to know. 

The door opened and he stepped out into the hall, just in time to run into his mother who was coming up to check on him again. She let out a small gasp looking up at him. 

“Oh sweety, what have you done to your beautiful hair” she asked, reaching up to touch it “oh hun- I thought you were past this phase of giving yourself haircuts.”

Damien pulled back slightly “I was- was just getting t-tiered of it bein’ long mom- th- that’s all” he told her “can.. can you g- get everyone down- downst- st-airs.?”

She nodded a bit, frowning as she looked him up and down. He could tell she was scared of what he was going to say. She had every right to be. He felt his heart thumping hard in his chest as they parted ways, her going to gether the family, and him going down stairs. 

“Hey kiddo” a voice called from the kitchen “I love the new hair cut. Sort of gives off that hard-rock look.” Annabelle stood, spatula in her hand, her brown currly hair pulled back off her face. 

“Th-thanks A-Anna” Damien said softly “I- I uh-”

“I can tell you did it yourself” she interrupted “mom says you got somethin’ important to tell us. Can’t wait to hear what it is. Can I take a guess?”

He let out a small chuckle. His big sister always could make him smile, always make him feel safe. “Sure- b-bu-but you probably wo-wont be able to.” He thought he may as well humor her. Maybe, it would soften the blow of the truth.

“You’ve decided to apply to Julliard for your piano playing!” 

He shook his head “n-no-nope that’s not it.. my- my- my stage fright is- is far too- too bad for somethin’ like that.” 

Anabelle frowned a bit “oh boo” she said “you know you would own that school.” She swapped an arm around him, standing a little shorter than him, in a side hug, that he hesitantly returned. 

He walked into the kitchen with her, the smell of her dinner wafting in the air. Fish and asparagus. 

His little sister, father, and mother all came down the stairs. His father, a tall, looming figure. His eyes sunken into his face, cold and judgmental framed by thin square glasses, and bushy eyebrows. 

Damien watched as his fathers cold eyes locked onto him. “Amelia” he greeted “you cut your hair, I liked it better long. You look like a-” 

He stopped when his mother jabbed him with her elbow “I think she looks lovely” she interrupted “I liked it better longer, but I think it frames her face nicely.”  She flashes a sweet smile at him as they all took a seat on the couch. 

Damien stool still, looking at his family. He felt time slow to a stop around him. Their eyes all looking at him, patiently judging. 

“Okay-” he started “o-okay I- I- I don’t know how to- how to say this but- I- I-” Damien took in a deep breath, he could already feel his eyes growing wet. This was something he’d been going over in his head for along time. Something he’d been practicing to himself, and with Elijah. It was easy with him. He accepted Damien for who he was. He always had. 

“I- I’m not- good in this- I’m- I thi- I know- I’m transgender. I- I’ve known for years- and--” he stopped talking as his father rose from his spot on the couch. 

“No you aren’t” his father hissed “no daughter if mine is goin’ to be a tranny freak!” 

Damien closed his eyes, as tears started to stream down his face “this is who I am- wh- I- I am trans- my- I-” how could he explain it? Could he?

Before he could think, his father stormed over to him and smacked him across the face, sending him to the ground. Damien cold hear his mother gasp in shock as he looked up at his father. 

“No. No daughter of mine” he shouted “Amelia- you need to get yourself together! Either you are my daughter or you are not welcome in this house. You have five minutes to decide!” 

Slowly, Damien stood up and walked to his room. Moments later, his mother followed. “Amelia- hunny” she called after “please- don’t do this- we love you-”

Something inside Damien snapped then, and he turned to look at her, his voice rising slightly “my name is Damien mom! I’m not fuckin’ Amelia! Da-mi-en!”

“TIMES UP NOW” his father shouted, loud enough to shake Damien to his core. In seconds he storned up the his middle child and grabbed him by the wrist. “I don’t care whop the fuck you think you are. You are Amelia. And you are no longer welcome in this house, so long as you keep living as a freak.” He dragged him to the door.

“Dad- please” Damien begged.

“No- I am not your father” he hissed as he threw the door open “as far as I’m concerned, we are strangers now- understood?” With that he tossed Damien out the door. “if you come back onto my property, I will call the cops.” With that, he slammed the door, locking it. 

There Damien stood, staring at the home he’s spent 17 years in. Where he learned to walk and talk. Where his height was measured on the kitchen door frame. Now, somewhere he was never welcome again. Filled with people who he believed never wanted to see him again. 

With that, he turned around and walked away. 

--

As months past, Damien grew worse and worse. Taking to drinking, and harming himself to cope. Two habits that he now wished he never started. He spent his days wondering around the streets, doing odd jobs for people to make enough money to eat. Nothing but his sweater, and a hat a stranger gave him to keep him warm. By the end of September, he’d left Bar Harbor, and was in Portland. Running around the streets still, getting more and more things to himself. 

The first time he spoke to Elijah in months was also the last time he would for years. It was December 28th. He was drunk, and he had plans. He needed to say goodbye to someone. Someone who he knew loved him, and who he loved deeply. 

Luckly, Damien had found a payphone, and still remembered Elijah's phone number. He listened to the phone ring on the other end a few times. It was late, so he wouldn’t be surprised if his friend was still sleeping. 

Just before it went to voice mail, a sleepy voice answered “who the hell is calling at this hour” he asked.

Damiens heart skipped a beat. It was him. A voice he hadn’t heard in so long. He slowly sunk to the ground, still holding the phone to his ear. 

“Hello” Elijah asked “come on- you woke me up- say something.”

Damien sniffled a bit “it’s good to hear your voice, Eli” he said softly “fuck- I- I miss.”

“D-Damien” Elijah asked, more alert now “Damien! Where are you? I can come get you! Are you safe? Are you warm?”

“Eli-”

“Why didn’t you come here? We would have welcomed you. Please- come here Damien. You can be home with us-”

“Eli- stop. I- I can’t.. it- it hurts to- to much to be anywhere in Bar Harbor right now. I-I’m in Portland.”

“Why haven't you called?”

“I- I don’t know.. I- I wanted to.. I- I’ve been trying to- to feed myself- and- and stay war-”

“Annabelle told us everything. My- my mom- Damien my mom would have called someone for you, she could get your dad locked up for that you know that right? We could do something! It’s not fair what happened. Please come home. You can be home with me- with my family. We can be your family-”

“Elijah- shut up. Please- I just- I need- I had to” Damien let out a soft cry “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye...? Now? Not when-” then it clicked “oh- oh. No! NO NO! Damien- please-” Elijah was standing in his room now, getting a robe on. He had to get someone.

“Elijah- I’ve made up my mind. Pleas- don’t try to talk me out of it. You can’t- and- and it will only hurt more.” 

“Like hell I can’t! Where in Portland are you? Stay on the phone with me-” he paused to shout “VICTORIA! VICTORIA! I NEED HElP-” Damien could hear the desperation in his friends voice. He’d almost never seen, or heard Elijah cry before. This hurt. 

“Elijah I’m sorry. Please don’t worry- please don’t look. I love you, so fuckin’ much. And- I’m sorry this is the last thin you’ll hear from me. I figured after everythin’ you’ve done. Everything you helped me with. You’ve always been there, and always could make me smile. I love that about you. I love your eyes that make me feel safe, your freckles that just add to your child-like wonder. You are an amazing man. Promise me you’ll never change.” 

Elijah was silent for a while “I love you too, Damien. You’re my best friend. Please.. I can’t lose you like this.”

“I’m sorry- goodbye Elijah. I hope you have the amazing life you deserve. Even if I’m not in in.” With that, he stood up and hung up. 

Damien was found unconscious, less than an hour later by an elderly woman, who rushed the young man to the hospital. He attempted to overdose on painkillers, but luckily was taken to the ER in time to save his life. To this day, he doesn’t know the identity of the woman who saved his life. All he knows is she wanted to go by ‘Granny’ on all his reports. 

Five years down the road after that horrible night. Damien found himself getting dressed for work, in the small apartment he was renting. His hair grown out, and scars healed. He was in a much better place now. Yes, he still struggled, but he was doing better now. He had friends who he considered his family. He had a job, even if he didn’t like it much, and he had a roof over his head. 

Damien had plans for the future now too. He was going to go to college and become a social worker. He was going to help youth who were in the same position as him. He wanted to be something to help give them hope. Hope that he desperately needed all those years ago. 

He was also going to get back in touch with Elijah. Or so he planned to. One day. 

Life was better now. He knew that. And while thoughts of suicide still lingered in his mind, he was able to push them to the side, knowing how much things can change. And wanting to be around to see his own life become better. 

[forests-green]

Spidersona Week 2k19, Day 5: Archenemy

AN: drug use, knives, general craziness, hospitals. Please tell me if I have to add anything else.

               “Della, I got a hit! Alex Griffin’s Picogram and Chatsnap! And just your luck, he’s going for a date at the Sweet Cup Bakery & Beverages!” Cali whooped as she typed frantically on her laptop and phone.

               “Wait the one you work at? How cool is that?” Della told her.

               “Just the one. I wasn’t working this afternoon because of tutoring, but I can call to see if I can take a shift now. How’s Sam, by the way?”

               Della growled. She still couldn’t believe that Cali had done an interview for the Chronicle as well as sold them a picture. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

               Cali turned her attention to her phone and frowned. “Della, you gotta see this.”

               It was Sam Jameson’s Chatsnap, and it showed her getting ready for a coffee date with her new friend Alex. The two girls turned to each other in shock.

               “Let’s go.”

               Cali nodded firmly. They needed to help her and make sure she lived to produce her play.

()()()()()()()()()

               Cali watched from behind the counter as Alex sauntered up to Sam. He’s not that bad-looking she thought. He was dressed up in a black button-down and lime green tie to go with black jeans. His black hair was effortlessly styled and made a sharp contrast with his weirdly pale skin. At least he opened the door for her.

               “Welcome to Sweet Cup! What can I getcha?” she asked, perfectly ready to tell Della when it was time. All she had to say was “frog” because that was totally inconspicuous.

               “Hey, aren’t you that girl who I interviewed about Spider-Star? Cali, yeah?”

               She laughed and asked again for their orders. “And, yeah, that was me. So glad you remembered.”

               Sam pulled out cash to pay for her plain mint tea, but Alex stepped in. “How about you choose a place to sit?” he said easily. Sam melted at his smile and wandered off.

               “Okay, I’ll pay you fifty bucks of you slip this,” he said quietly, holding up a small baggie of powder, “in her drink.” He gave Cali that winning smile again, but if they were to take him down, she had to take it.

               “What are you getting? Also, I want that fifty now.”

               He slid it across the counter while ordering a huge coffee with four creams and five sugars. He then turned around and blew a kiss at his date, and she blushed.

               “I’ll get your orders ready. Go sit. I’ll bring it over.” She told him nonchalantly.

               He sauntered off to go flirt like he wasn’t a threat. Little bitch, she thought. Good luck hurting her, you idiot.

               She quickly made the coffee first and dumped the powder and sugar in at the same time. She then made the tea like nothing had happened. Using her best “seductive waitress” walk, she plopped the drinks at the table and walked away.

               “Frog.” She whispered to her Bluetooth headset, feeling the arm knives hidden under her long-sleeved shirt. She was prepared on her end.

()()()()()()()()()()

               “So, he’s actually drinking the coffee? And has no idea it’s drugged?” Della asked incredulously.

               Cali smirked but didn’t say anything. “You’re smirking, I can tell.” The spider told her.

               It took a while, but eventually they ran out of things to say. This was probably because Alex had been getting sluggish from the first sip.

               “You wanna go someplace?” he asked her while rubbing his face. He was confused. Why wasn’t she asleep yet? The drug he had given her had to have been working by now. Alex could tell she was getting concerned.

               “Um, yeah, sure… Where do you want to go?”

               “Out the back door…”

               Sam was now visibly confused. “Why?”

               He managed to give her that winning grin again. “Do you trust me?”

               She remembered the way that Cali had spoke about Spider-Star, how she had asked for trust and was led to a better life. “Okay.”

               He stumbled out of his chair and slung an arm around her shoulders. “This way.”

()()(()()()()()())

               At the back door, there was an argument going on.

               “You cannot be outside for this. Please, Cali. I can’t lose you.”

               “I can hold my own, Spider-Star. Trust me. The only thing my deadbeat parents actually taught me was the use of a blade.”

               “Then wait inside! He might try to escape that way, and you can help Sam!”

               Suddenly, Cali stopped arguing. “That… is a good idea.”

               Surprised, Della opened the door for her.

               Blowing her a kiss, Cali said cheekily “Kick some ass, Spider-Star.”

               Della gave her a peace sign salute.

               Not five minutes later, Alex stumbled through the door with Sam. Della waited, and counted to eight.

               Then she jumped, landing squarely on his back. There was a tinkle of broken glass, and fog began to rise from under his shirt.

               “Listen- Sam, GO! I don’t know what this shit does, and you don’t want to breathe it in!” Spider-Star yelled. Sam turned and dashed away.

               Alex laughed. “I was wondering when I would see the Spider-Menace.”

               Della punched him across the face. (Peggy Carter would have been proud.)

               She then webbed him to a wall, her hand on his throat. Hers was itching due to the fog, but he laughed on. “You think she is safe? Or that tricky barista? This gas is something special, Spider-Bitch. I only use it when forced to, because its punch is way better than any you could hit me with. You’re a much better victim than some tranny, anyways.” He sneered.

               She went blind with rage. Slamming him into the sidewalk, she managed to tell Cali, “Stay inside! There’s a gas… makes you… slow… Can’t lose… you.” She slumped on the ground.

               “What a wonderful thing trained immunity is! I bet you’re just mad because I spoke the truth, huh? You and that tranny jokester?”

               But then, Spider-Star rose. Somehow, he got even paler. She gave him her best death stare, and he seemed to realize his mistake.

               But Della had made mistakes too. While she was waiting, she had been swinging all over the alley, leaving webs everywhere. He grabbed one, wrapped it around his hands, and clambered the side of the building. Still fatigued after the effects of the weird gas, she didn’t pursue him. She stumbled inside, to find gas had slipped in, leaving Cali knocked out on the floor.

               She grabbed Cali’s trench coat and called 911. “911, what’s your emergency?”

               “M-my sister, there was this gas, an-and now she’s passed out- “

               “Name and address?”

               “I’m Della… Cali’s the passed out one… an’ we’re at the Sweet Cup Bakery on Queens Avenue.”

               “An ambulance is headed your way. Are you okay?”

               “There was a man in the alley, and he got a bit beat up, I was watching, and Spider-Star saw him try to mug a girl, so she jumped on him, and that released the gas.”

               “Okay. The ambulance is outside. Please keep breathing. Your sister will be fine, I promise.”

               “Thanks.” Della exhaled.

               She could hear the smile in the operator’s voice. “No problem.” The operator did like helping people, and she was a Spider-Star fan. Not a bad start to her shift.

()()()()())(

               Della sat in the white waiting room. The nurses and doctors were constantly going in and out of Cali’s room, and all she could do was wait.

               I’m sorry, Cali. I’ll do better next time.

               Della closed her eyes and slept.

[adrenalineguide]

Kia Scores a Hat Trick with the Forte, Soul and Niro

Text and photos by Michael Hozjan

I’m often asked what my criteria are for a successful critique. Though there are many variables at play, I’ve narrowed it down to the three that are the most important to me and would play a crucial part not necessarily in your in your immediate buying decision, but your longtime ownership. Let’s face it you can’t evaluate a vehicle 100% driving it around the block. Even with my extended drives, I often only get the true feel of the vehicle in the last hours of possession.

First, comfort. Whether I’m visiting clients, chasing down new leads, scouting shooting    locations, traveling to car shows or stopping by at cruise nights to chat with the local enthusiasts or hand out copies of our pocket guides, I spend hours upon hours each day behind the wheel racking up hundreds and at times thousands of kilometers a week on the road. After a long day behind the wheel comfort is paramount not only to my physical well-being but also my mental state. And you would be surprised how often a vehicle flunks.

My second criteria has a bigger stake in my mental state, and that is, fun. If driving isn’t fun to me than I might as well take a bus or taxi, and nothing can make the day go by faster than if you’re enjoying yourself behind the wheel. The fun factor encompasses many things but mostly the vehicles performance, handling, and driving ease. This doesn’t necessarily mean a thousand horsepower with big fat tires and heart pounding, ear-popping noise. I fell in love with the first generation Mazda Miata within 50 feet of driving it. A car often criticized for not having enough power. To make matters even more interesting I had the rare opportunity to drive the miniscule Honda Beat, a pint-sized runabout powered by a 3-cylinder engine that had a top speed of around 80 kph. But you felt like you were doing a hundred miles an hour in it.

Lastly I want the controls to be user friendly. I don’t have time to read thirty pages of instructions in an owner’s manual the size of a medium city’s phone book on how to set up my cell phone or entertainment system. I’m here to go from point a to point b safely and don’t need to be reading texts or having to press buttons three times on the ahhem, infotainment system to switch radio stations.

Yes the Kias scored highly on these three main points, but even more importantly did so with finesse and then some. Read on.  

Forte5 SX T- GDI

Step aside Honda Civic, there’s a new kid in town and he’s about to have you for breakfast. While Honda’s been relaxing on its laurels, Kia has been slowly refining its compact hatchback, and for 2017 it’s loaded with even more goodies wrapped up in a contemporary design nicely accented with red pin striped grill reminiscent of VW’s GTi. It works on the Golf and it works here too, once you get past the slew of acronyms in the name (who is going to remember that mouthful of letters in two hours much less five years?)

Rather than go with the boy racer look, the Forte offers styling that any adult would not be ashamed to be seen behind the wheel of. And behind the wheel is where you want to be! Our SX came with the 1.6 L turbocharged four cylinder that dishes out 201 horses and an impressive 195 lb.ft. of torque at 1,500rpm to the front axle via a seven speed automatic (new for 2017) that owners can shift with steering wheel mounted paddles. Sadly there is no standard tyranny available in the SX.  There’s also a 164 horse (152 lb.ft.) 2.0L four in the four other trim lines. The automatic goes through its gears smoothly. Even at full throttle, the gear changes are seamless, attesting to Kia’s engineering. Getting this hot hatch to 100 kph takes a shade under 7.5 seconds.

Taking driving excitement a step further is Kia’s 3-step Drive Mode Select that alters the steering wheel feel, changes throttle response and shift points. Eco, as the name implies turns the SX into a miserly runabout with little or no feel on the steering. Normal brings it back to how the factory intended the car to respond, but set the switch on Sport and a whole new different beast awakens. I found myself leaving the car in Eco for my commutes up and down the highways but quickly opted for Sport when I spotted winding roads ahead. The Forte5 is a very capable handler that really likes to be tossed into a corner. Indeed if it was equipped with a manual tranny, I would compare it more to a German hatchback than anything the Japanese are throwing out there these days.

Like its exterior, the driving compartment is nicely thought out and designed to work. A concoction of textures and colors from satin to glossy to fake carbon fibre. Sounds like it would be gaudy but it works and looks fresh…go figure. The comfortable supportive leather front buckets aren’t only heated but cooled as well. As mentioned in my opening I love it when controls are well placed and easy to use and the Kia wins time and time again. The infotainment system is easy to set up and works off both Apple CarPlay and Android.

Rear seat passengers get pampered with heat and chill controls and will be happy to learn that there’s ample room for six footers back there. Fold the rear seat backs down and there’s enough cargo room to carry enough gear for two people to go on a cross-country road trip.

Yes you read that right heating and cooling for rear seat occupants.

One of the many virtues of Kia has always been getting the most bang for your buck and the Forte5 is no exception. Blind spot monitoring, lane departure warning with lane keep assist and rear cross traffic alert are all-standard. In fact the options list on the SX is almost non-existent save for exterior colour choices, and a few minor trinkets.

Price as tested: $31,770

Soul SX Turbo Tech

Kia may have targeted the Soul towards active, young buyers, but around here the Soul has been a big hit with senior citizens.  And who can blame them, the boxy design lets itself to easy step in, step out and the higher riding seating position gives a better view ahead than your typical sedan without the added costs of getting into an suv or minivan. The back hatch opens up to allow ample room for grocery bags, again, without the need to put your back out each and every time.

All’s fine but how do you get millenials to take notice and increase your market share? Turbocharge it! The Soul was never a performance vehicle and some might say, anemic, even when it came to your daily outings around town. Well all that has changed. Kia has pirated the 1.6-litre turbocharged four from the Forte (above) and transplanted it into the Soul.

The result is a wallop of fun with 201 horses and 195 lb.ft of torque propelling a pint sized grocery getter down the road. No the turbo doesn’t turn the Soul into a GTi beater. Its suspension layout and tall design couldn’t possibly lend itself to chasing down hot hatches on country roads, but makes passing semis on the highway a breeze, getting up to speed on highway on ramps a lot less risky and zipping through city traffic a joy. Aiding in bringing the car to a halt the Turbo gets larger front rotors. And it does have a nice rasp emanating from the twin exhaust pipes.

Like the Forte5 turbo, the Soul has a red chin stripe to differentiate it from the other trim lines, and like the Forte5, the Soul gives its driver a choice of driving modes, but unlike the Forte there are no paddle shifters, instead if you want to upshift or downshift on your own whim rather than relying on the smooth 7-seven speed automatic, you’ll have to do so with the console shifter. Still, it takes little away from the excitement offered by the new powerplant. I found myself starting off in Sport mode from red lights and for running around in bumper to bumper traffic and then set it in Normal for my highway cruise home. 

The Soul offers the same driving amenities as the Forte, in short, well placed and easy to use controls. Our tester came with the optional 8-inch screen for the infotainment system which also offers nav, unlike the seven-inch system in the Forte5, which requires you to wire up your cell for nav.

Prices start at $19,150 for the base model LX equipped with the 130 horsepower 1.6L engine and climb quickly through the eight trim levels to $31,850 for the SX Turbo Tech unit. Mid rang is the EX trim line powered by a 2.0L 161 horse mill with 149 lb.ft. of torque. There is a less pricey SX Turbo that offers all the peppiness of the turbo with fewer bells and whistles, like the premium Harmon/Kardon audio system and the aforementioned 8-inch screen for $27,850. The Turbo Tech buyer also gets the benefits of a large panoramic sunroof and Xenon HID headlights.

Oh, and when you spring for the Tech option you’ll also get speaker lights that will give you a light show.

By now you get the idea that the Soul’s cabin is a nice place to be. Like all Kia’s, the Soul comes with a lot more items to pamper you and your occupants than many similarly priced competitors.  Heated front and rear outer seats are an example.  A heated steering wheel is a very welcomed feature after scraping the snow and ice off the car.

Thirty grand and the passenger gets power a seat!

Cargo space is above average for similarly sized crossovers and lift over is easy with the rear hatch opening high. The only disappointment in an otherwise well thought out interior was that the rear seat does not fold flat.

It’s easy to see why the Soul has survived while other similarly designed boxes like the Honda Element and Nissan Cube have disappeared from the landscape. The Soul Turbo has all the elements to attract younger buyers but I get the feeling we’ll also see some seniors in their hot rod Souls.

Price as tested: $31,850

Niro Touring

Look closely and you won’t notice any red stripe on the Niro’s grille. There’s good reason for that, and it’s not just that there’s no turbo.  We’ve seen Kia declare war on Honda with the Forte, on Nissan with the Soul and just when you thought that Kia’s war on Japanese car makers was over, the South Koreans now clearly have their eyesight’s set on Toyota with the Niro, a dedicated hybrid wagon that doesn’t scream Look at Me I’m Driving a Hybrid, unlike Toyota’s Prius. Welcome news to those who want a handsome hybrid without the radical and dare I say, quirky, looks. 

This brings Kia’s hybrid line to two models counting the Optima sedan. But the Niro has its battle cut out, not only does it enter the most competitive market niche in Canada, the subcompact slot it’s also up against industry leaders Toyota and to a lesser extent Honda, who’ve been punching out and refining hybrids for decades.  Add Toyota’s ever expanding line of Priuses from the standard model to the plug-in variant as well as the compact Prius C and larger Prius V, and the Niro has the deck stacked against it… or does it?

Four trim lines are available starting with the entry level L priced at $26,850. But don’t think entry level means an empty chariot. On the contrary, in keeping with Kia’s modus operandi, the L features such upscale amenities including heated front seats and steering wheel, rearview camera and for those who can’t stay away from their techno gizmos, Android and Apple CarPlay connectivity. The EX ($29,350) ads smart key and push-button start, wireless phone charger and auto-dimming rear view mirror. If you want a power sunroof, 8-way power driver’s seat, blind spot detection (come on folks just adjust your mirrors properly) and rear cross traffic alert, then you may want the EX Premium at $30,950. Lastly the top-of-the-line SX Touring  ($34,850) ads you get leather seats, 8-inch multi-media screen with a premium Harmon/Kardon sound system and autonomous e-braking system.

There’s only one engine across the trim line, a 1.6 litre four-cylinder gasoline engine that produces 109 horses and is augmented by an electric motor that pumps up the ponies to a decent 139 horses. The all important torque figure is a respectable 195 lb.ft. What does this mean to the Niro buyer? The Niro feels slower than Ford’s C-Max but quicker than the Prius, probably in part to the six-speed dual-clutch automatic tranny versus Toyota’s CVT unit. Yes, red light acceleration will be a bit slow if you’re used to high horsepower cars, but once you reached the crosswalk at the other side of the street the torque kicks in and you’re off and continues through to highway passing speeds.  My non-track testing showed the Niro accelerate to 100 km/h from a standing start in 9 seconds, about a second faster than the Prius I had last year.   

Getting off the stoplights around town I found myself switching to Sport mode and than went back to the Eco setting once under way. The tranny I is seem less and like its ride, smooth

But hybrids are all about conserving our dependence on gasoline while we find alternative sources or until electric cars become able to travel long distances without emptying our wallets in the showroom. The Niro beat out the C-Max in fuel economy and the 5-door hatch Prius V in pricing, but the Prius’ fuel consumption remains paramount. Check with your local governments for incentives and rebates.

The Niro wins in interior appointments as evidenced by the base model and gives better than average value for your buying dollar. The cabin is spacious, and well designed both esthetically and intuitively. 

Yes, there’s room for a couple of six footers in the back seat. 

Kia may be marketing this hybrid as a crossover – the latest buzzword in marketing jargon. Apparently marketing departments STILL don’t see station wagons as being cool, even though the recent resurgence of classic wagons by thirty something’s points to the contrary. I like to think of it as a tall station wagon or a five-door hatchback. No matter what label you put on it the Niro is a winner.

Price as tested: $34,850

[muirin]

I’m So Confused

I’m trying really hard to figure out what I am. I’m bad with labels, and I’ve never been good at self-discovery, finding myself, or any of that. I’ve just kinda been me, and life just floats through me like a fog. It happens, and I make decisions, and I go where I go without thinking too hard about what it all means. That all changed a few months ago, and now I find myself stuck, wondering who and what I am, with no introspective skills to really figure it all out.

Things I definitely know: I cross-dress and I love it. I really like who I see in the mirror/camera when I’m dressed in traditionally female clothing and makeup. For brevity’s sake, I’m just gonna call this “dressed like a woman” because yes, I get that anyone can wear anything, regardless of gender and all, but I hope you’ll give me the benefit of the doubt. I’m frightened by what all this could mean for my family life.

Things I think I know: I think I feel, deep down, more feminine when I’m dressed like a woman. I’m pretty sure I do. I feel like people who are androgynous slide in my perception toward the male side of the spectrum, or at least the “more male than me” side of the spectrum when I’m dressed like a woman.

Things I don’t know: What this means. What to call myself. What to do.

Here’s some history.

I don’t remember ever having dramatic, crushing, born-in-the-wrong-body crises when I was little, like the folks who write the articles about being trans. I do remember playing with my sister’s toys, and having no problem with doing so, but it was usually when I was playing with my sister. It didn’t get any kind of attention. Positive, or negative.

I remember trying on my sister’s bras. I’d fish them out of the hamper, stuff them with socks, and look at myself. It just felt like a thing. There were no revelations from the sky. No deep conclusions that “This is who I’m supposed to be.” It was just a thing. I always figured it was something everyone did. Thank goodness I never told anyone about it.

I got bullied a lot, especially in grade school. They called me by a feminine version of my name. Even my neighborhood friend called me ‘fag’. I remember it hurting. It makes me wonder now if this bullying caused me to push things down. To deny any kinds of feelings of femininity for fear of more ridicule. I don’t know.

I remember my sister coming out as gay in high school. I remember it being a big explosion in my house. I remember her stealing my hoodies to cover up her body. I remember being really angry about it. I remember her bout with anorexia. I remember not feeling much about that at all. I don’t think I understood the seriousness of it. I was still, frankly, pissed at her for being so terrible to me through high school.

I remember being in my 20s and being envious of women’s clothes. Mostly for the variety and choice of it. Women can wear flats or heels or sneakers or boots. Women can wear jeans or capris or shorts or skirts or dresses. I wanted that kind of variety. I was stuck in jeans, tee shirts, and hoodies in the real world, and khakis and polos in shitty retail jobs. And now I’m doubting whether or not it was about variety so much as the clothes themselves.

In my early 30s, I experimented with cross-dressing once. I knew nothing. I bought a bra and some makeup and a skirt and a tight shirt . I put on a silly blue wig I got at a Halloween store and took pictures of myself with an ancient webcam. I posted the photos to an anonymous message board, and was mocked mercilessly. I shouldn’t have expected any better from the internet. I put all those things in a bag and into a drawer and forgot about them for a long time.

I learned on a halloween one year that a friend of mine was a frequent cross-dresser. I thought “Good for him”, and had trouble figuring out what pronouns to use when. I didn’t even think about the clothes in my drawer.

I got married. I married a wonderful woman who made me feel good and safe and loved. I didn’t tell  her about the cross dressing, though. Partly because I’d pushed it away, partly cuz it felt shameful.

I used the word “tranny” in front of my sister, and she got really angry. She had to explain why. I told her I used it because it’s what my friend’s wife calls him, because he cross-dresses. My sister explained why that’s not cool. I took it to heart, and never used that word again.

I got a little bit involved in a local kink scene. It’s nice. There are ups and downs, some made and broken relationships, but generally, it’s good. Kink stuff could be a whole other post full of history, so I’ll leave it there.

I joined an online community that fostered fantasies of bodily transformation. Being things that you weren’t or couldn’t be. Silly, cartoonish stuff, really. The internet brings crazy fandoms and common interests together. There was a disproportionate number of trans people there. I fostered an emotional relationship with someone there who presented themselves as a female. Then, one day, she told me she decided to present male instead. I was crushed, and called it off.

I began to get the suspicion that my cross-dressing friend was more than just a cross-dresser. She slowly stopped using her male facebook, and almost exclusively used her female facebook. When I think about her now, it’s always with her girl name. I say she/her when I’m talking about her.

My sister came out to me as trans. I now have a brother. I wasn’t shocked. I didn’t mourn. I was mostly worried about how this would blow up with my parents. It did. I thought to myself that my brother’s a lot cooler than my sister ever was. I figure that 30-something years of actively hiding who you are can wear on you and make me angry. In my head, nothing snapped into place. I didn’t even think of my probably-trans friend. I didn’t think of my online community. I didn’t think of the clothes in the corner of my drawer.

I decided to try on a female voice/name online. Nothing really changed. Everyone was just as nice and open and welcoming as they were before. Nobody treated me differently. They just called me a new name. I flipped between male and female voices. Probably half and half at the beginning, and slowly started sliding toward always-female. It was nice. I thought to myself that maybe people were nicer to me when I was presenting female. I couldn’t be sure.

My kid was born.  A fantastic little kid.

I found a “main” kink top. She’s (still) amazing. The relationship grew very fast, and neither of us handled it well. It caused a lot of problems, and my marriage took a bad turn. We went to couples therapy. My wife felt like I was hiding things from her. I kind of was. I admitted it, smashed the brakes on the kink relationship, and things are getting better.

My friend is definitely trans, and even when she’s presenting male, I call her ‘lady’ and her chosen female name and I always tell stories about her, not him. She announced that her cosplay photographer wants to do a just-for-fun photo shoot, and anyone’s welcome. I asked her to help me dress up like a girl for some photos, and she agreed to help. She walked me through the steps of doing my makeup, loaned me some body parts (okay, boobs) and a wig. When I looked in the mirror, I said “I love you.” That’s not something I’ve ever done. It felt like a big deal.

Things started moving fast at about this point. It’s still so foggy and disorganized and confusing in my head.

My trans friend asked if the cross-dressing is a kink thing or an identity thing or what, and I tell her I don’t know. She insists that I do some thinking about it, and let her know. I did some thinking and I let her know that it’s somewhere fuzzy and in-between. It’s not just a kink thing. The thrill wasn’t a sexual thing. It wasn’t for my top so much as it was for me. It was an “I like who I see in the mirror thing”, but I was nowhere near any kind of “This is who I should be.” She got kind of cold and business-like in her reply, and essentially boiled it down to “I can’t help you with that. You should talk to your therapist.”

I did talk to my therapist, and to a close friend or two. The consensus is that it’s okay to be unsure and foggy and somewhere in-between.

I explained to a confidant that sometimes when I’m “attracted” to a woman I see on the street, it’s not because I want to have sex with her. It’s because “I want to just, like, steal her body and be in it.” She got what I meant, and understood that it wasn’t some kind of weird Buffalo Bill sort of thing.

I loved the photos from the shoot, and couldn’t stop looking at them. I shared them with my online friends, and they all said very nice things. I spent a bunch of christmas money on makeup and silicone boobs and a wig and clothes. I told my wife about it, and it was bad. In trying to explain my state of mind, I told her about the female voice I used online. It didn’t help. I didn’t have any words to make things right. To make her understand.

To her, this was just the latest surprise, and she wondered if it would ever end. She wondered about other things I could be hiding.  She wondered if I’d ever stop ‘looking for more than I have.’ I told her I don’t know. We did a lot of work in therapy. Things got better, but it was hard and it left a deep mark. It made me very reluctant to talk about this stuff with her any more. Mostly for fear of damaging our relationship or straining things more. I really don’t like conflict.

I started trying on makeup and dresses and skirts more often when I had random free time. I was temporarily unemployed for a while, so I had a lot of free time. I shot a bunch of selfies and liked them. I shared with my friends online, and they still had nice things to say. It made me feel good.

This brings us to about the present. Where I am now. It’s probably even less organized.

I’m not androgynous. Getting even barely close to ‘passing’ is a lot of hard work, but I feel like that work pays off.

When I walk through the city, I look at women in their clothes, and I still feel a lot of envy. I want to be able to wear what they wear, but I know that most of the outfits I like wouldn’t flatter me. On good days, I see the girls who have narrower hips and broader shoulders, and I think “I could pull that off.” On bad days, I dwell on the fact that I’m built very much like a dude. I’ve read the fashion guides for the “wedge” body shape. Angelina Jolie, right? Sleeveless is out. Pencil skirts are out. Sleeves and A-lines are in. Otherwise, I’d just end up looking silly and top-heavy. The bad days are really hard.

I practice my “girl walk” when I walk through the gay part of town.

I try to imagine being out and about while dressed like a woman. It’s exciting and terrifying.

I contemplate my penis sometimes. I wonder if I’d be better off without it. I wonder if I’m just thinking that because I should.

I still don’t know what I am, or what to do about any of this. I don’t know if I’m trans. I’m pretty sure I’m some flavor of queer, but I don’t know if I’m bigender or genderfluid or some other thing.

I don’t know if I’m just latching onto what I think is the group of “cool kids” in my circle of friends who happen to be queer, and I’m trying to be more like them. More accepted by them.

I can’t tell if I’m mentally recoiling at all of the backlash that white straight cis-guys are getting, and this is my way of shying away from that group.

I can’t tell if fear of losing my family, my wife and child, are making me think around the things, and making me deny things, or if these feelings are really not there.

I don’t know if I just feel like I’m ugly and I think girls are prettier, and since I want to be prettier, then I guess I should be a girl. There’s more I don’t know than I do at this point.

I don’t have any kind of conclusion, beside just typing it out, shouting it out to the world, and trying to make sense of another day.

I’m so confused.

[lilidhshoneynutfeelios]

this weeks freeform personal post lol

so im kinda getting estranged by my mother tbh like i was quite explicitly told that im making a “lifestyle choice i dont agree with” and that she “cant recognise me” (like, my face is a different shape but what she means is that im not like, rolling over and taking her abuse anymore) and i cant be like taking hormones and using a different name and expecting to be like, part of the family yknow. and like, her partner will just follow suit and ive already estranged my older sister lmao and like, highkey im not confident i’ll get into 3rd year and like, yknow. on a triangle of ‘disowned’ ‘trans’ and ‘drop out’ im pretty sure i can only handle two and like, v v highkey i want to just like, kill myself and avoid the whole thing and like, i’m v aware that, other than this one medically induced manic episode in march/april, ive had passive suicidal ideation for like, almost my entire life and ive never done anything about it. idk im v greatful for the valid people in my life rn, im v happy that ive got like, decent people i know irl and online that just kinda, make it seem like a temporary problem? and recently ive had a lot of experiences where ive been able to like, be good for someones life, esp w like, i run the trans forum at uni right, and we’ve had a couple moments where like, people’ve got to see like, other trans people in groups, and just be like ‘huh, we’re not freaks and perverts huh’ and its been good for them and i kinda just wanna keep living for those moments and all these rly cool moments i get to have w my friends and like, ive got a lot of good books im excited about rn, and ive got some money in the bank i dont want them to get, idk. ik a lot of people in my life get really tetchy when i talk about like, suicide after like, i actually tried, and thats fair but like, for the last idk more than 10 years its just been passive and ideative and thats sad but its also like, mostly benign and i dont want people to worry about me. i kinda think im too late to get a summer internship now i had two interviews and i failed one and i dont want to work in a care home all summer and i kinda want to piss off to glasgow and stay w finn and thats not an easy option but i think it’d be good for me like idk what work i could do in glasgow but i could do some shitty job right,i dont have to do internships now i guess, idk im really tetchy about experience and esp trying to get experience where a change of name isnt an issue. yknow, like job hunting is demeaning enough without revealing a priori youre tranny, idk like, i have a zero hours job in aberdeen but i wanna move out like, asap, like i cannot be here, its just v scary to be in an environment where youre like, actively hated. idk like she didnt harbour any particular hatred to trans people before this like she knew a trans person from my school and used his name and pronouns but idk, maybe i shouldve seen it coming after how tedious she was about me being a faggot like, idk she got over that after a couple months but she just, doesnt want to budge on this, like she sees me using my name and taking hormones and having trans friends as like, an actual insult to her raising me. shes just like I Picked Your Name, I Raised You A Boy, Therein You Will Be And Anything Else Is An Insult To Me As A MoThEr yknow like, god, its not a big deal yknow, you get 2 daughters or you get 3 idc what you do with that fact. and sure, i consider it entirely her problem that she hates trannies but like, being trans AND disowned AND a dropout is just like, too much for me i think like, theres no shame in that life to me but like, theres also no dignity. like theres no dignity anywhere but idk if i can do it yknow. also like, and i hate to like bring up sex work when talking about trans hardship bc it feels like a boogyman trans girls bring up to scare eachother but, idk if i can go back to that? i hate waiting outside and i need poppers for like, anal w people i dont trust (and sometimes w people i do) and like, theyre a v safe drug but too much can put pressure on the eye and im blind enough as it is. i had enough poppers one time that i went colourblind for a moment. that was fun. i was kinda drunk too. in the summer i kinda wanna deal with presentation like learning-to-pass as a skill but like, idk im not butch right but im also like a real person who goes outside lmao. like i cycle in the rain and garden and eat with my hands and im not going to be domesticated at any point tbqh. like im not sure i’ll ever pass in like, the next so many years without like, FFS and laser or smthn, but like, idk ik two things right (1) that im a bit of a feral tomboy and im comfortable in like, trews and shirts, getting dirty and building things so long as im not like, percieved as a man and (2) that i was traumatised for like, almost the entirety of my life for doing anything feminine right. like i got beat up in the engineering club at school a lot bc i wasnt like, masc enough to be in that space lol, or even if i didnt get beat up like, there was like, idk what you’d call it like preformative beating up? like unwarrented roughhousing? like pretending to kick someone but Just For The Banter Obviously, We Weren’t Trying To Intimidate The Faggot At All Sir. yknow. and like, obvi like the usual words and jokes we usually use to talk about fem men or men who arent masc enough or whatever. and like, trying to separate (1) from (2) yknow. like thats a task and a half. and like, esp recently where im like, not feeling like a pervert and an intruder 100% of the time w like, lesbian spaces. like obvi ik im not welcome by most there right, but like, idk ik a few lesbians who are like, idk at least on surface dont seem to consider me an outsider and i kinda, get to talk about the fact i like women without like, being seen as a man and a pervert and a rapist for it yknow. and thats been like, a bit of a moment for me. bc like, idk i like women and i kinda havent been thinking about that for a long time bc i dont want to be seen as a man and like, ik ive always liked women, i just like, didnt think that i could like, engage with other women who might like me, without like, having to Perform Man and all that implies and, idk yknow, its not like im having a sexual awakening or ive discovered a two way strap on lovehoney im just like, idk, not not-welcome sometimes for the first time in forever and that kinda means rethinking a few things about where i position myself etc. and thats largely fun now that im like, idk, i have more language-tools to do it than the last few times ive had to consider who-i-love-and-how yknow. and like, idk ive mostly been playing the same fiddle as i always have with like, having this gayboi dress sense and slang and idk, maybe it’d be fun to get a bit of a more lesbian of a haircut or smthn, but like, id have to do it in one of the gay barbers in glasgow bc i dont trust any barbers in aberdeen to not cut my hair Like A Man yknow also i havent been to my usual hairdressers in months bc im growing out the sides and idk what theyd say like i need my split ends done but i dont want them to go in and speak about my hair and my bikes and my ex lmao i used to go get haircuts w my ex and also i have v bad hair and ive recently decided im ok with it being curly so im just like, idk learning what to do with that tbh idk yeah, once whoevers in the kitchen leaves im gonna make a cheese toasty bc thats what ive been craving all day

[letsimportanttreecollection-blog]

Worden Montana Cheap car insurance quotes zip 59088

"Worden Montana Cheap car insurance quotes zip 59088

Worden Montana Cheap car insurance quotes zip 59088

BEST ANSWER:  Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://financeandcreditsolutions.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr 

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Worden Montana Cheap car insurance quotes zip 59088

Worden Montana Cheap car insurance quotes zip 59088

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Worden Montana Cheap car insurance quotes zip 59088

Worden Montana Cheap car insurance quotes zip 59088

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I am about to buy a 125cc motorbike in the UK. m in my late 20's and have a secure job. What is a good insurance company to deal with and what sort of quote should i be expecting? I have the usual security for my bike, smartwater, thatcham approved chain and disc brake lock. The best quote I got online on a CBR125 was 450. Is that about right or is thre anyone out there paying a lot less, for fire, theft and 3rd party insurance""

Would any car insurance company insure a 17 year old with a 1988 BMW?

I'm just curious if any insurance companies would insure a 17 year old 1988 BMW: http://www.autotrader.co.uk/classified/advert/201230480212123/sort/default/usedcars/price-to/1000/body-type/convertible/price-from/0/make/bmw/onesearchad/used/onesearchad/nearlynew/onesearchad/new/keywords/sport/page/1/radius/1501/postcode/ct66ae?logcode=p I know it will cost a lot but I would like to know if it would be hard to find an insurance company that would accept a 17 year old to drive it under their policy!

Car Insurance?

I wanted to know how much would it cost for a 16 year old teen to get car insurance just to cover damages to someone elses car they damaged would it cost alot or not?

Worden Montana Cheap car insurance quotes zip 59088

Worden Montana Cheap car insurance quotes zip 59088

What happens if your driveing a car with no car insurance and someone hits you.?

We live in California. My seventeen year old was driving our car that was uninsured and was in a accident. The other driver admitted it was his fault and there insurance company has already claimed full responsibility. What I'm wondering is what will happen when they find out we have no insurance. I did yake my son to the doctors and they said he does have wip lash but will be fine

Cheap health insurance?

what is the cheapest health insurance in california? i am male 22, i do not smoke..""

Which is the best medical insurance ?

Can any one suggest a good medical insurance company and plan

I'm auto insured in CA but not in NY how do i get insured in NY?

Hi I have auto insurance in california that's where i live and the car is registered in Ca also. The company that I have doesn't cover my car in NY it only covers for 10 days while I'm there in NY, But I'm going to be in NY for a while I might move there. What do I have to do to get insured in NY? And also the car is not in my name. What Do I DO?""

Will insurance cover the car?

I'm getting ready to take my road test, but my Mom can't afford to have me added in her insurance policy. She plans on making me an excluded driver. My brothers & sisters are all covered if they drive her cars, because they don't live in her house. I still live at home, my question is, if I'm an excluded driver, and I were to get into an accident, would the insurance cover the car, or not? And I live in Michigan, if that helps.""

2003 Hyundai tiburon 2dr coupe. Insurance price?

So I'm a 17 year old girl.I'm getting my first car. Idk if where I'm from makes a difference, I'm from texas. Would a 2003 Hyundai tiburon 2dr coupe be considered a sports car on the insurance? If so, how much more would it be vs. a normal car? Please help me!!!!""

I recently purchased a car but I'm listed on my moms auto insurance and I'm using this for covage is it legal?

I used to drive a car that was owned and insured by my mom. Now I have my own car, We called the insurance company and transfered the insurance to my car. I think the insurance company thinks the car is still in my mohters name. She said it doesn't matter, I was listed as a driver on plan anyway. Is this legal? Not sure what to think?""

Insurance Costs on a 3000GT SL?

I'm 18 and am getting my own car for college. I've been driving my dad's VW Jetta III without a license (he drives with me) for about two years now, as he is a frequent commuter and my high school is close to his work. We never bothered to get a license because we'd have to insure me (and I was going to drive with him anyway as a 'learner'). My eye is on my neighbor's 1994 3000GT SL. It's a non-turbo, and in good mechanical condition. But since I technically just started driving with a license (even though I've commuted for two years now), I'm afraid I might get charged by the insurance company like a 16 year old. It's because of this I didn't get the twin-turbo VR-4, as I heard insurance costs more than the car after a couple years. How much can an 18 year old college going kid like me expect to pay with the SL model?""

How to get different types of insurance?

Dental, health, medical, etc. Im graduating HS and my parents are taking me off there's. They say it's time to grow up and support myself. I fully understand. And I have no complaints. So that's why I'm asking. I just got a job, so would that help?? I'm taking a break from school (college) for a couple years.""

Is insurance for a V6 going to be automatically higher than a 4cyl?

Getting an Audi A4. The 1.8t (4 cycl) is the same cost as my insurance now. I found a 2.8t (v6) that I liked better though, and did not ask if that would cost more... Think it would kill my insurance?""

At fault driver asks for my proof of insurance.?

I was legally parked out on the street and this person decided to park right behind me. But that persons poor maneuvers failed and crashed into my car, my car lurched forward. So i got out to see if my car was ok. I but as I get out I look at the person and she smiles and waves me off like I'm making too much of a deal about this. I was just looking for an apology or something like that. But they blurted out that it was only 2 miles per hour what possible damage can happen!? I said thats not the point and asked for insurance info, wrote the info down and asked why they were being so rude and hyper. its because i don't like being accused of damage I didn't do!! That person is a lowly fool. ANYWAY to get to my question. They mentioned they were an attorney and under California law that they must see my proof insurance, i gave it cause I have nothing to hide. But should I have given my info away? How should I report this claim to my insurance?""

What is a good affordable maternity health insurance in Kansas?

My husband just switched jobs and the health ins. provider is too expensive for us to carry. I plan on getting my children on healthwave but I need something for myself. I'm not currently pregnant but am wanting to start trying. I figure I should check into ins. before I make that commitment.

Car Insurance? best option?

I recently have came back from a trip abroad, and well. I'm looking into car insurances and seeing if I can get any better deals and what other way than the internet! So here's a little about my Insurance right now. I'm paying about 761.82 every 6 months for just liability. I recently got into a small accident last year which raised it about 100$.00. Even though all that was repaired was his fender. it' whatever. I'm 19 and I drive an 01 PONTIAC Sunfire SE So you think this is enough or am I paying too much? Oh and I'm with GEICO""

""People tell me i can get insurance of my own under18, is this true?

i want a vehicle but my father wont let me get one because hes scared that if i wreck than it makes his rates go higher. can i get my own insurance and not be on my parents?

Car Insurance Help Please!!?

So I was just wondering what types of things made a car more expensive on insurance... im a 16 year old guy...the car im looking at has these mods:17 inch konig racing rims. wrapped in new falken tired Brand new black pint with fleck Aftermarket front bumper and grill Cold air intake Front sway bar Full exauhst. dna headers. 2inch catback with 3 inch tip welded on 5% tint Tezza tailight Aftermarkey spoiler jvc headunit Shaved emblems Its a Honda Civic...Thanks

Where can i find the cheapest insurance quote for a 95 Dodge neon?

I pay 140$ a month at dairy land Proggresive, I have about 10 points on my liscense, and when are my liscence points deleted from my insurance""

""In Texas, does the responsible insurance company have to pay for the storage fees for our totaled car?""

I was just recently involved in an accident and the insurance company that is responsible to pay for the damages is saying that I need to move my car from storage, because they do not have to pay for the car to remain in storage. Since I live in an apartment complex the car would have to be moved twenty minutes away, which is going to cost quite a bit and then we would have to move it again to an auto body shop back to the area I live in. So I called the place where it was stored to get a quote on how much it would cost to move it and the guy said that our car looks to be totaled and that for them to tow it I would have to pay out of pocket and I will never see that money again. Also, he said, in Texas, it is state law for the insurance company to pay storage and towing fees, he said the insurance is just saying that to get us to move it so they don't have to pay those extra fees. I don't know who to believe and I couldn't find anything online about it.""

Fair insurance for 03CBR600RR?

progressive. 170 a month. average liability coverage and collision and theft protection. im 19 and in the Military...have not taken the MSF course i know this will lower the cost. but interested to know if this is about the average price thank you

Auto insurance question -- Florida?

My daughter can't really afford the insurance on her car; it's a 2003 Jetta and if she keeps it she will probably have to do a certain amount of repairs. Right now she has full coverage but is considering dropping the collision to lower the cost. If, God forbid, she should get into an accident without collision coverage, could she sue the other driver to repair or replace the car? Would she be likely to be successful? I am not hopeful of anything like that happening, believe me, but you just don't want to lose your investment especially if you have spent a lot on repairs. Thanks in advance for any insights.""

Is it cheaper to shop for car insurance online vs local agents?

I am looking to switch and was told by an agent that they like it when you come to them in person rather than over the phone? I don't want to spend a whole day running to different agencies only to save a couple of dollars each month because the agent gets a share. Is that how it works? Is it cheaper to shop online? I would appreciate any reply.

Affordable Insurance for Teens?

Looking to get my first car soon and I got to pay for my own insurance and I need some help for an affordable insurance. Please and Thank You

Motor cycle insurance for an 18 year old using usaa?

How much would insurance be for an 18 year old using USAA? I am going to get a Honda CBR250R for the gas mileage. I live in Southern California in Riverside county. the bike would be my primary transportation and i have a perfect driving record. along with straight A's. please help?

What is the cheapest auto insurance?

I am going to be turning 16 soon and i am most likely am getting a 2002 ford focus. what companies offer the cheapest auto insurance for a 16 yr old on there parents insurance?

Car hire insurance! HELP?

can i hire a car/van with third party insurance or do i need to be fully comp. please help

My insurance company doesnt want to pay!!?

I was struck by an uninsured driver on 02-10-11. Because the driver who struck me was uninsured I was forced to file a claim with my insurance company(Omni Insurance). The car was towed to CJ's collision at 6128 n beechwood Philadelphia, pa ,19138 on 02-11-11. Phone number 215-848-2836. On 02-14-11 Omni insurance sent out an appraiser to evaluate the vehicle. They then faxed an estimate on 02-15-11 totaling $5300 to CJ's collision shop. I went to the collision shop on 02-15-11 to sign paperwork giving them permission to work on my car. They then began the repairs. On 02-18-11 the insurance company then deemed my car a total loss. The vehicle is a 2005 Nissan Altima SL with 96,477 miles. The NADA value for the vehicle is 10,995. According to Omni insurance a car is deemed a total loss when the repairs reach 70% of the value of the vehicle. Omni insurance valued my car at 7,415. They then proposed a settlement offer of 5826.40. They deducted 975.00 in prior damages(which I disagree with) and 1000.00 my deductible. The settlement offer included 386.40 in sales tax. After negotiating on 02-28-11 they proposed an offer of 7835.30. The value they gave my car was 9255. Again 975.00 was deducted and my 1000.00 deductible. They including sales tax and tags/registration fee in the offer. I accepted the offer out of desperation because they also stopped paying for the rental car I was driving on 02-28-11. I work, attend school and have a child my schedule requires that I have a car so I paid out of pocket for a rental car until 03-07-11, expecting the payment to be issued to my lien holder by then so I could purchase another car. I contacted them on 03-07-11 inquiring about my payment and was informed they did not pick the vehicle up from the collision shop therefore they were not issuing a payment. The collision shop gave them a bill of 1750.00 for the repairs they did and the storage fees. The insurance company disagrees with this and refuses to pick the vehicle up and issue my payment. They have also stated this may come out of my settlement offer. The insurance company already has the title to the car and all the necessary paperwork to the vehicle but refuses to issue a payment. It has been a month since I filed my claim and I can no longer afford to pay for a rental especially since it seems I will have to purchase a new vehicle. The insurance company is low balling me and also forcing me to pay for repairs they approved then backed out of.""

Worden Montana Cheap car insurance quotes zip 59088

Worden Montana Cheap car insurance quotes zip 59088

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/quotes-car-insurance-berwyn-il-victoria-robinson/"

[hookysblog]

USA/Canada Part:3

 I reach Rock Bottom.....AGAIN!

REPUBLIC, NEW ORLEANS

An interesting city, I always shudder when I see the Dome downtown tho’, after hearing the stories of life just after Hurricane Katrina. A lot of homeless people here too. It immediately strikes you in every city we visit how many there are. From New York, stretching to San Francisco, Detroit being particularly bad hit, they are everywhere;(

Ah well…there but for the grace of god eh people? Hotel is nice and close to the gig and after an early night I am able to hit the gym, which is nice. Another gig off the list today, and I must admit this is a long tour and I am feeling it very much. I suppose that’s the problem of having so much on at home with the Legal cases, such a shame it ruins everything. When they said,

‘Cocaine is god’s way of telling you you’ve got too much money!’

They definitely should have said Litigation! Jesus!

Anyway nice walk to the gig and we are off. Gig goes well until the JD set, when two kids start pogoing and an older lady at the front takes offence and goes mental, punching one of these guys twice in the face, as fast as Jason Statham! Must be one of these Hockey moms we hear about. It calms down but she shows no remorse even when I warn her to take it easy. What a girl! She looks like Sarah Palin on steroids. Apart from that the gig goes well, strange how I am starting to recognise a lot of the audience members from when we have played a place before…my memory seems to be improving…must be all the exercise. I walk home with Andy Poole, particularly nice in the light of the Supermoon we’ve having at the moment. Bed is welcome. Early-ish start to…..

 TERMINAL WEST, ATLANTA.

 Getting a bit fed up with airports I must admit. Longing for a train station;)

The only fun to be had here is, Pottsy having lost his passport, has to use his driving license to travel, and it singles him out as being foreign and ‘Of special interest’ (I always said he was special;) so he gets a ‘special’ very intimate pat down which is funny to watch, his facial reactions being very interesting to the shall we say…probing;) Nice quick trip and after doing my laundry (again) we are back at another gig. This goes very well from start to finish, with an older audience than usual. Another sell out, which as the guy said, ‘Pretty good for a Tuesday night!’ Glad to get back to bed….knackered! Later start today, which is nice and the last flight for a while too.

 PLAZA LIVE, ORLANDO.

I have been here many times with the kids over the years, so it seems like an old friend. I used to think it was hilarious when a huge plane load of English families after no sleep on the flight, would arrive and get taken straight to the hire car place and given a left hand drive motor, then being let loose on America’s roads, sleep deprived, jet lagged, with a car full of screaming children. Watching them from a safe distance, go the wrong way round the roundabouts was my favourite (I was lucky, I had driven here a lot). I look out of the Gym window onto Orlando downtown, and it is very pretty. But again, has it’s own fair share of wandering homeless (at least it’s warm here I suppose:). It feels to me like there is revolution in the air. The divide between rich and poor seems so marked. They co-exist at the moment but it makes you wonder? It really does;(

The gig venue tonight is where poor Christina Grimmie got shot by an obsessed fan, and it’s only when it is drawn to my attention, that I realise how many mentions of guns we have, in this particular set. New dawn fades, Perfect Kiss, love Vigilantes, 1963, in particular. Our own fault, The Hacienda’s legacy I suppose;(

It’s a big hall this one, it goes well, not great, but we play tight and after a dedication to a new ‘Friend of Bill W.’ on New Dawn Fades we are done. Crawl to bed. Rest in peace Christina.

 CULTURE ROOMS, FT, LAUDERDALE 18/11/16

It is 10 years ago today that New Order split up, in Buenos Aries, Argentina.

I do wonder if they’ll ever get back together? But to be honest we are more at each other’s throats now than we were then;( Ah well, got a much better anniversary coming up on the 27th! Nice drive, and our driver is Keith who used to engineer at Amazon/Parr Street Studios in Liverpool. A lovely man, who came to Orlando, Florida to engineer a Deep Purple album for three months. It took 15! He met a girl and never went back. Can’t say I blame him, the place and the weather is lovely. Gig is great from start to finish. Fantastic.

 RITZ THEATRE, TAMPA

Another lovely drive! So strange watching the Alligators sunning themselves on the waterways by the side of the Freeway. We stop for a ‘Bojangles’ chicken dinner (on my recommendation) I thought it would bring back great memories of my first time in New York in 1980 when I lived on it for days (wonder if I put that in the book?) but today it is shit! Absolutely inedible! Good thing Terry Mason wasn’t here he would have been devastated. Meet Tony Mikaledes with his partner Mary for dinner, which is nice. Tony was a commercial/indie Dj in Manchester and then went into promotion, working for Island Records and Factory Records and managed my Revenge project for a short while. He has lived here for years and loves it. Ybor City District where we are is ‘Rockin’ with a great atmosphere. Another great gig from start to finish and we have great fun watching the trannies making there way to The Showbar next door (Chicks with Dicks our Crew used to call them;)!

ORANGE PEEL, ASHEVILLE.

Early morning and the two flights to get here wears us out.

Pottsy has still not got a passport, so is still travelling on his driving license, legal but gets that extra security from the TSA again. Today again, nearly every ‘Nook and Crannie’, poor devil. This is a nice place, very small town America, but can you believe it? Boasts the Moog Synthesiser factory. Robert Moog invented his synthesiser in the mid 60’s and the factory is still here in Asheville. Barney loved the Moog sound always has. From the first time Martin Hannett introduced us to via his old Moog Modular system for Joy Division’s Unknown Pleasures album.

As soon as we got one ourselves in 1981, it was used to great effect on Power, Corruption and Lies, Blue Monday, Lowlife etc etc., and many, many others, I bet he still uses one today;) We have a lovely trip round the factory and it is great to see how many new ones are being manufactured and shipped. If your wondering why I look weird in the photos, it’s because I have my gym kit on….honest!

CAT’S CRADLE, CARRBORO.

Nice drive makes a lovely change. This is a lovely town and a great gig we have played a few times before. Tonight is no different and another ‘Sell out’ greets us very, very warmly. Gig goes very well from start to finish. We are getting very professional if I say so myself. Flying tomorrow so rush to bed for some much needed shuteye;)

 HOWARD THEATRE, WASHINGTON.

Short flight to another strange place for us, at the world famous 9.30 Club we first played as Revenge, then Monaco, then The Light twice, but never did well, not much reaction? So much so that we have not been back here for 5 years;(

Thankfully, tonight could not be more different. We smash it! This is a wonderful old theatre, which was used to for all the old soul acts, James Brown et al. Washington seems to have been gentrified since the last time we were here, in 2011, it was rough, which is strange for the Capital city but I am sure Trump will sort that out even more now eh readers?;) One thing he may never sort out is the Rats! My abiding memory ever since the 90’s at the 9.30 is that the place teemed with Rats, and tonight is exactly the same. As we smoke outside they are everywhere and fearless (No cracks about being in good company with the Politician’s, please). Sign for some lovely people outside and then back to bed.