I was trying to aim for “modern, present-day white mage,” with all the details that might involve. I got lots of compliments!

FAQ:

1. Why do you feel like crap?

• Brain chemicals plus time, multiplied by the dysphoria co-efficient.

2. You'd pass better if you just dressed like people.

• Look, if I'm not dressed like I'm gonna run up the side of a skyscraper, holding a technosword, during a rainy night, in order to kill a god, is life really worth living?

2a. Just wear a brand somewhere.

• Nope. Earth symbols and brands and such aren't diegetic to how I want to present myself. I specifically want to look like I don't belong.

2b. That makes you stand out.

• Fine. As long as I'm read as a girl who's not from here.

3. Why'd you climb halfway up Mount Hood?

• Arch-nemesis at the top. Called him and asked me to meet halfway up for a thrilling sword fight cause I'm lazy and it's a compromise. (Seriously though, it was a hike with my wife and I was bitching bilingually going both up and down and it was very difficult to even make it that far.)

4. Can you play banjo?

• Nope. I tried though, but the hand doing the strumming is the one that took the most damage from two strokes. Can't even keep a rhythm.

5. Your shoes aren't matching sometimes.

• OH SHIT THANKS FOR POINTING THAT OUT

6. Kids these days don't even know what Final Fantasy is, really.

• Don't care, it was super formative to my heart and I'm almost 40.

We saw The Beths opening for Alvvays last night and it was amazing.

Hokay, so.

I’m on HRT and have been for a decade and change. This is real cool, except how basically every interaction with cisgenderedists gets me misgendered, and a hearty “sir” or a flurry of “he/hims” levied my way. I mean, fuck, I can be standing there in knee-high boots, a leather skirt, and a cropped hoodie and I get misgendered as fuuuck.

“So change shit up, motherfucker.”

I do a phone job and my voice is believably feminine in both English and Japanese, which is cool, but something about my real life existence just reeks of masculinity.

Can’t really do makeup cause the structures responsible for processing my face are damaged. I can tell what emotion I’m making, but I can’t perceive enough of my face to draw well on it. Also since I’ve had two strokes, even if I could, I’d prolly do eyeliner wings like a fuckin’ gridiron player.

I got beautiful wavy blonde hair that goes down past my butt, and though I don’t have the manual dexterity to style that really well with buns and braids and such, I can at least try shit other than the basic nape-of-neck ponytail.

Also I’m flat as your average golf course: maybe two discernible bumps, and that’s fuckin’ it. Also I’m ace as fuck so if they were any bigger I’d get real self-conscious about it.

At least I got a fashion sense that makes Square Enix jealous.

I’m gonna figure shit out that works for me, either that or I’m gonna keep on tolerating the injustices of the bastards who never thought to play with the character creator.

Also I guess they want me to add a photo so here you are.

Apologies for my shitty English. It’s fuckin’ terrible.