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celebrities will really be like “i am non-binary” and people will just ignore it

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my sister is showing me photos of herself.

she flips from one to the next, and says, jokingly, “aren’t i so perfect? not right now, obviously, but in the photo.”

and of course i agree, but my mind is stuck on that phrase. ‘not right now, obviously.’ what is so obvious about that? i think she looks perfect now.

and she displays such casualness about such a devastating statement i feel as though i am struck by whiplash. she is not at all affected by the enormity of the fact she believes she is only beautiful when she is half-shown. 

she thinks the messy in her is something ugly, akin to a stain on a white shirt, or a wrong stroke on a painting.

she thinks her pimples, bright and glaring from years of being human, of experiencing life, of knowing the ecstatic highs and devastating lows that come with the responsibility of growing up, are unworthy of love. she thinks the smile lines from years of laughter, laughter, laughter on her face are unappealing. she thinks the stretch marks on her legs, large and bold and beautiful from the joy of movement, of growth, of strength -- are a stain on the beautiful canvas of herself. 

but the mona lisa is not half as beautiful without pointedness of her nose, or the sharpness behind her eyes. the starry night is nothing without its jagged lines and rough shades. so how could she, a person so messy messy messy, be imperfect?

the person in those photos is pretty, yes – but they are not even in the same league as she when she smiles, she when she laughs. she when she is a person instead of an image.

but i stay silent.

she swipes to the next photo.

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Excerpts from The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee

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You know those aesthetic image posts that float around tumblr? I'm . . . starting to see a lot on my dash that are obviously ai-generated. Are non-artists having trouble telling the difference between AI images and real photos, or are people starting to stop care about the stolen art that gets fed into those programs?

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Cringe culture is dead. If it doesn't hurt anyone, do what makes you happy.

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some low effort wiw bywers :)))

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but what if we went through the horrors together? what then?

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i both simultaneously love and hate having a desert blog because i can shout whatever shit into the void and nobody will hear/care but also i can shout whatever shit into the void and nobody will hear/care

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wip

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person (n) -- a being with individual traits, moral sense, and logical processing.

should have qualities -- independent, long-standing ones.

NOT APPLICABLE. subject's qualities are purely defined by what would be most well-received by perceived audience. perhaps the term 'chameleon' is better fitted?

should not shut down -- people tell the truth and think humanly.

NOT APPLICABLE. subject's brain comprehends only data and results, seeing a multiverse of differing paths rather than a human situation. if perceived as best action, subject feels no remorse in untruth. perhaps 'computer' is a more accurate defining adjective?

should be able to carry out the act of logical thinking and problem-solving.

APPLICABLE. subject is able to think clearly. (sometimes.)

result: subject... is not human?

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wip is feelin' a bit weird rn...how do i fix this??? i have no beta reader hhhhh

Mike Wheeler and the Terrible, No Good Game of 2 Truths 1 Lie

“No!” Mike snorted. “Of course it wasn’t that. How long have you guys known me for, again?” 

Dustin shifted slightly to face him, face contorted in thought. 

“So which one was it then, Mike?” Lucas questioned pointedly from his right.

Oh, shit.

 Joining this was a horrible, horrible idea, and Mike Wheeler is an absolute dumbass. Seriously, he could have picked anything else for his truth. Except Mike’s brain is awful, terrible – abominable, even, – and decided to pick the one thing he would definitely get teased for. 

Why did he agree to this, again? 

“Wait.” Dustin remarked, after a few terrifying moments, and his smirk grew until it nearly touched the ends of his face. “...Was it, perhaps, the second one?”

Mike didn’t know what he did in his past life to deserve such cruel, unrelenting, evil friends. 

 It must’ve been something truly, truly horrible if he went by the impish grins that decorated the other two boys’ faces. Like, seriously evil. Was he Jack the Ripper’s incarnation? That, or Vecna himself. 

And, shit – he was silent just a second too long. 

“Wait, really? Like… you actually thought that?” Lucas asked, incredulity and mirth coloring his eyes. “No way. No way! Seriously?” 

Mike coughed. He probably looked like he was trying out a new telekinesis gig, with the way he was staring at the pot beside him. It’s looking good. Very… round. Wow. 

(Everyone wonders when they’re young. It’s not weird. It’s not.)

“Didn’t you think the Tooth Fairy slowly tugged people’s teeth out to keep in her secret stash? Mine is barely anything compared to that,” he said instead, tugging embarrassedly on a loose strand of his sweater. 

Lucas gaped at him from the corner of his eye. Mike flushed uncomfortably under the attention.

“...Dude. You thought the moon was cheese.” 

“It wasn’t my fault!” He protested weakly as the other two boys quickly devolved into childish giggles. “I was a kid! You guys would’ve done the same, if you had Nancy for a sister!” “You–” Lucas started, but was cut off by another burst of laughter. “You thought the moon was cheese!”