I’ve spent weeks now in question with Class-Gs.
I know it’s cliché with people here, apparently, but I like cats. I wish I could’ve had one in my pre-Captain days (the time I’ve spent here and not constantly on the edge from my duties has given me the opportunity to ruminate on my past, and really my personal needs).
I’d like to be one. And, well…
Those who have really paid attention to me and Lars know that I had Testosterone blockers, pretty rudimentary ones compared to what I see here in the Compact. But…well, I did and still do kind of feel disconnect with myself, soul and body if you will.
I’ve fought with myself a lot. I’ve kind of fallen into depression over it. So, I say fuck it now.
I found an old art piece I commissioned in secret many years ago. The Pre-Accord times were very innovative with its views over the human body and the eternal yearning to be something we cannot become, and thus forth the “Furry” movement sprouted (no pun intended).
While it has been a few centuries since the initial movement, in secret, in rebellion to the Accord government there still were small swaths of people in the movement, some leaning into the philosophical standpoints of the disconnect between the human body and mind alongside other ideals, and some plainly there for an escape from Accord life.
I kind of forgot those days, my time as the Nebula Prowler’s captain made me forget most anything beforehand. But…well.
Here’s the commission. I’d like to look like this.
Ahem. If I can, I hope that my @remezi-lash-ninth-bloom can work with @hot-doctor-pepper for arranging a Class-G prescription.
But if that’s too much to ask for, that is okay. I don’t want to waste time.
I don’t know about my name. I don’t like it, but it’s all I know. Never had the time to think about it. All I’m going to say for now.
