Need one o’ them there meridian responses? Like unboxing and reaction videos? Product reviews? You like slow paced grainy video where the loudest sounds are packages rustling and fans whirring? If ya want my body and ya think I’m sexy, come on baby let me know. Sorry for rod stewarting at you there. Point.
I referred to an inanimate object as crazy, in violation of my ableism policy, but I don’t know how to bleep it. Enjoy this little walk on the wild side. And go to sleep!
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Main post for day isn’t ready yet. Lil dreampost for you instead. What kind of recurring dreams do you have? I have, over the years, occasionally dreamed of Aliens. The most remarkable of those dreams had me as Sigourney Weaver in BA mode, doing gymnastics to get away from the mother alien. But it got too exhausting and I gave up hope, letting her get me. The mother alien gave me an abortion with a clear plastic tube and some kinda gizmos. Good times.
Haven’t had an Aliens dream in a long long time, but I did the night before last. I was in some kinda scifi scenario, on a space station maybe?, and a single alien caused so much ruckus the whole structure busted apart. The survivors were left floating in spacesuits. I found my cat Hecubus, who in this dream was still a shaggy kitten, floating in space – without any protection, exposed to the void!
Somehow he wasn’t dead or exploded, so we got him to some kind of space vet. I ended up at a spaceport bumming around waiting for a flight. I found out I was supposed to pilot the spaceship, but realized I’d forgotten my wig, so I went to see if I could by a bandana for my bald-ass domepiece. This is the first time I’ve ever had a dream that directly related to gender expression issues from my waking life. About how one would expect it to go.
I was late getting back to the spaceship and Lemmy Kilmister made fun of me. He also complained there wasn’t enough time to finish cooking this roast suckling pig, so the only way to keep the meat from going to waste was to freeze it, which would keep it from cooking up as nice when it was thawed. He was giving my vibes of a tall metal dude from my high school who had same last name as The Elephant Man.
I’m so tired but I can’t sleep. Good daynight.
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Should I call them suras? My emerging personal religion has disparate influences, which could be read as holy texts, and as they are not currently part of a consolidated canon, they could be considered supplemental writing in the sense that islam’s suras. I dunno. I wouldn’t say apocrypha because that term denotes status as non-canon, which isn’t possible if there isn’t a canon. Or wait, maybe there’s nothing but apocrypha. A belief system of pure apocrypha. I dunno.
I want people to regard these beliefs as earnest, and as religion. Y’all jesus fucklers who use “atheism is a religion” as a gotcha, it still doesn’t make sense for atheism, but you can use it for whatever this thing is I’m putting together over here. Especially if the schedule F party boss comes ’round the factory floor to inquisite about my unusual practices and appearance.
Before I introduce the new principle, let us contemplate these other mysteries of Chaos:
Ian Malcolm. This level of control we attempt, it is not possible.
The Two Maxes. Max Headroom shows us the blipvert of our current cyberpunk dystopia, Mad Max shows us the sorrow of the coming post apocalypse.
Hellstar Remina. This text shows the way of being good when the whole world goes bad.
The Adversary. Satan speaks truth to sanctimonious power – the truth that in the end there is no real power that a human can possess.
To these I add:
Restoring Biological Truth. January 22 2025, the second most powerful man in the world decreed that all prior science on gender and sex was invalid, and the government of what is, for now, the most powerful nation in the world set about erasing from science all mention of sexual variation or ambiguity in the natural world or in human beings.
When I was an atheist I clung to the idea that science was the truest arbiter of reality, and so I must concede that whatever is allowed to exist of science in this new world must be the only truth of reality. Mans and womans are the only thing, nothing else exists, and gender is the delusion of insane sex criminals like myself.
However. If my belief that gender and biological sex are both spectra is not scientifically valid, then it must come from somewhere other than science. It must come from Revelation! From a higher power! That is the power that I believe, ardently and piously in, the power of Chaos to rend asunder clean boundaries, and make a mess of everything.
It is my religious duty to embody the power of Chaos, in specifically dressing counter to my state-mandated sex. For if I do not carry the truth of Chaos upon my visage, I am disrespecting the highest power in the cosmos. I do not love my god; I fear it, and live in this way to avoid its wrath.
Respect my religion. Allow me to wear the garments of my faith. Or concede that you do not actually care about freedom for any religion except a narrow range of christian denominations, and just fuck right off the planet in a spaceX deathtube at your earliest convenience.
Thank you.
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Seriously.
Transgender people were a big wedge issue used to flip who knows how many fools to voting fash, or just not bothering to vote against them. Scumbags look for somebody to hate, smash the hate speech button until they find one that doesn’t make people feel too bad about themselves, and get everybody disgusted about some disgusting weirdos that don’t deserve rights.
If social progress somehow makes it through the barrier of fuckery that has been erected against it right now, if transgender people become more accepted, who is the next target for nazis? They never stopped targeting Jewish people and racial minorities and the disabled and women, just tuned that whistle high enough to harvest a few demographic traitors. In this election it was all about “illegals” and “perverts trying to trans your kids.” And somewhere in all that ruckus, they tried on a new target for size.
Furries. They’re going after furries next. I am not shitting you. The time to try and move the needle on furry rights is now. Get people to accept furries whenever you can. Turn the conversations around, when people talk about how disgusting and creepy they are. Who are you to judge, Nancy? I seen what you’re into, Fred.
Anyway, for my part, I’m throwing open the barn stables right now. Bébé Mélange is a furry ally. I may not always be the best ally, but I’ll try to improve.
This gets into a territory of “is this an immutable characteristic,” like can you change this about yourself if you want to? People will try that on as a way to say furries don’t need protection. But I think, nuh. I know the transgender experience is highly variable, and for some of us, it might feel like a choice – like for safety, some of us could detrans and ride out the rest of their life, without committing triple turbo suicides immediately. But even for those people, they deserve trans rights. Likewise, if being a furry is totally optional for all furries? So what?
There are some lines I’ll have to scribble here and there on the big perv tent, like, I’m not gonna stump on Capitol Hill for age regression RP and diaper play. People should be able to do that too, but it feels less like something you could do non-sexually at the office on Monday… I dunno. I don’t know anything.
But I know this. Furry rights now!
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I’ll probably post a bit about this within a few weeks, specifically what space David Lynch occupied in my heart and imagination, but the short version of my initial eulogy: You can take David Lynch out of the world, but you can’t make the world less Lynchian.
Meanwhile, enjoy an article about his support for transgender people. I’m gonna let others do the heavy lifting and get back to my writing challenge. Anyone who would join me, read this article.
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A wiser woman than I said we should all give dems the spurs on trans rights, specifically to say we’ll stop supporting them with votes if they stop supporting us. My initial reaction is to think of just how much I despise all the leftists who said it was OK not to vote this time around. It was potential dem voters staying home that caused us this crisis in the first place, and the margin was so massive it must have had multiple causes. Misogyny, racism, transphobia, vote suppression (i have firsthand knowledge of some, but it doesn’t explain the big shortfall by itself), apathy caused by a campaign relentlessly focused on fear? Discouraging voters was surely one of the causes, as well as single-issue voters like pro-Palestine people not wanting to sully hands. This campaign would be both of those things, right? Single-issue vote discouragement?
On the other hand, voting for the lesser of two evils only makes sense if it actually does prevent some amount of evil from happening, undoes the evil that was done the last time their opponents were in power, something… Like, I’d accept that my demographic had no legal protection and was royally fucked, if there were some kinda super-genius badass legislative masterminds successfully making great things happen to, say, benefits for the poor, or environmental legislation, medicare… something important. The dems, and left parties around the globe, have been unbelievably useless at this. Biden should be using the last days of his executive power to make baller moves, but there’s no indication that’s going to happen.
As an example of that, I thought about pardoning Leonard Peltier. No dem was ever gonna do that, but I haven’t looked into the subject much. I just assumed that since a lot of thoughtful people think he is innocent, they probably had good reason. A brief look into the subject brought up this slanted-ass bootlicking NPR article that was covered top to bottom in e-begging. (How long has NPR been sucking fascist balls?) If there is reasonable evidence supporting his innocence out there, getting people OK with releasing him would be as simple as presenting that evidence, right? I dunno.
How about something less controversial. Commute the penalties of everyone on death row to life imprisonment. Full pardons for everybody on death row where the police or prosecutors are legally proven to have fucked up the truth for the sake of a lynching. Last time the billowing bowelsack was on his way out of office, he accelerated the rate of executions, including those of people who had strong evidence of wrongful conviction. Just do the opposite thing. That’s an obvious good deed that would not be easily reversed.
One factor in how the election was lost: the dem hesitation to simply stand for anything. If there was a case being made outside of “at least we won’t kill you,” I didn’t hear it. It may have been spoken, but the threats were so much louder. All I saw was them using terror to ransack the wallets of the base, and making wacky jokes. I dunno if anyone was paying attention when Clinton lost, but all the night show funnymen were joking in overtime, didn’t make a difference when it counted.
Having lost, it seems to me, puts dems exactly where they want to be, doing what they do best. Tut tut ineffectually from the corner, play the good cop role in our persecution, and so lend a veneer of legitimacy to our deeply anti-democratic government. They make themselves reeeally hard to defend, especially the centrists like Pelosi.
As much as I feel a nigh-murderous hatred for anti-voting tumblr anarchists, they represent a genuinely felt position among many lgbt people – particularly trans women – that nobody in power honestly cares about them or is willing to protect them from literal genocide. That belief was stoked by social media cryptofascists, especially foreign ones, but it would have been there even without that encouragement. Dubya’s government tried to use disgust of gay people to bolster their political power, unsuccessfully. Us trans folk are even more disgusting to the masses, so using us has proven more successful. Or has it? The gasbag barely got more votes than he did last time. Again, this was all about our side staying home, and not theirs achieving anything besides holding the base.
I’m conflicted. This is an important enough issue for obvious personal reasons, as well as for all the trans people less privileged than myself, that it’s easy to see making it the one issue to vote on. So are the other issues though. US support of genocide abroad, anthropogenic global warming… As I used to say a lot, everything is on fire and nothing isn’t.
But in the end, no, I won’t join the crew in saying I won’t vote dem if they don’t support trans rights. I would implore whatever passes for human decency in them to throw us a bone, but I can’t say I’d one-issue this, as bad as the dems are. The nazis are just so god damn much worse. I say vote dem anyways, and if they ever win again (lol), don’t assume that’s the end of it. We’ll have to fight them for what we need; it’ll just be easier to fight them than the fourth reich. Maybe fight them like my comrades are trying to, with this campaign, if it makes sense to you. I can’t join them in making those vows of non-voting against spineless dems, but I like to think I have other types of fight in me, when it counts. Who even knows until you’re on the line? None of us should have to be living through these struggles.
Either way, the country is going to be so gerrymandered and vote-suppressed in four years that dems will be lucky to win participation trophies, so I’m probably overthinking it. Just done and tired, waiting for the hurricane of hammers to drop. And still viciously, viscerally furious with the proselytizers of non-voting.
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EDIT: forgot silver lining. yes i think dems are not going to win next time without the republicans literally having a child sex orgy on prime time basic cable and using the blood of a vivisected vietnam vet for lube (that was a bit off color jeezis). but people survived fascism in spain and we can do it here too.
I had a consciousness-raising experience about transgender people shortly after age thirty. I don’t think I was a complete shit before that, but did have a few embarrassing missteps along the path. I’ve always watched people around me more than I should, and during that time I started noticing whenever a person was androgynous or trans, and wondering, what’s that person got in their pants*? Classic wildly offensive goof, which mostly had the self-awareness to stay unspoken.
But this instinct was reawakened in me by an image set on tumblr, from an anime called Oniisama E…, or Dear Brother…. For some reason, there are girls in that show drawn with the proportions of androgenized bods. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, tall faces that make a forehead look short, strong chin, no visible breasts most of the time… These are the idolized glamorous older girls too, not shunned weirdos. And in the haze of this creepy terfesque genital obsession, I asked these paper dolls if they’d had, you know, the surgery..?
The answer is no, near as I can tell without watching the whole series and translating Japanese fan wikis. One of them gets breast cancer in high school (u got spoiled! as if you care lol). They’re cis-girls, in that universe. If somebody felt like watching the whole thing with the assumption they are trans in mind and doing the queer critical lens thing, that might be a diverting experiment.
I asked chat j’ai pété about it, and it said the original manga writer was inspired by the Takarazuka Revue, which seemed the opposite of what I’d expect to be the reason. Also, the drawings from the original comic did not seem as fully masculine as the ones in the animated adaptation. So, a hallucination, it seems.
Do any of you know if there’s a cultural reason why these anime cis girls look so non-passingly trans? I don’t get the impression my comment section is bubbling with otaku energies, but I might as well crowd-source my curiosity. This article isn’t the best showcase for it, but the cartoon looks very beautiful, which may be why it gripped me. One of the less manly girls looks like Sean Young in Bladerunner, but they’re all very cute. Never dubbed or subbed in English, so it slips away.
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*I think the vast majority of trans people will never, very seldom, or only situationally pass as cis, so the idea of passing as the singular goal of transition – the only fix for dysphoria – is harmful, even if it’s understandable that many of us are obsessed with it.
But still, even pretty hip people can be fooled hard by human androgyny. I had a high school teacher with no breasts, an adam’s apple, and a deep cleft chin – who got pregnant and carried that baby to term. Intersex but still functional, or just nature flexing on us? I dunno. Likewise, during my creepy shifty-eyed time, I had taken a skinny lady with an angular face as probably trans, and a few years later saw the same lady pregnant.
Most of the time you aren’t going to get a big tell like that, so you gotta learn to quell that curiosity when it arises. I did it; you can too.
Me and my dude have a relationship. Been together close to 19 years, if I got that right. But we never got married, because a bunch of reasons that were not wholly clear to me until now, when the plan is in place. We’re gonna make it official October 13th. This is important for reasons of legal protections and whatnot, and also to get what we deserve, which is recognition for this thing we got. But, this is kind of a bad time.
We have little money and incredibly few family and friends, we aren’t going to reproduce, and we’re not young. Marriage as popularly conceived heavily leans on those things. It’s to have a day of expensive shangri-la decadence? No. It’s a way to celebrate the merging of two families and sets of friends in a great big… there’s a guest list of officiant, wedded, and three other people. It’s a way to make holy or legitimate the birth of your… nope. It’s two wacky kids starting life together as… nope.
If you put this question to the masses, the usual answer is “don’t bother” or “just elope.” But our self-respect won’t let that stand. We deserve a genuine ceremony, not scratching paper with ballpoint pens under fluorescent lights in an office space. The thing is this – as you take away all the things of marriage as currently conceived, either because you can’t afford them or don’t want to do them, what do you replace them with? Eventually, you have nothing left, and have to reinvent marriage from scratch.
One could wonder how we ended up with so few friends and family. I have the stereotypical broken home, my dude just had a single mom from generation of socially maladjusted people who couldn’t stay married or get married in the first place, half of whom are now dead. My dude has health problems that have him socially isolated, I just don’t feel the need for friends outside of my most important few, and I let the others all drift away. I don’t think about this most of the time, but it does have us looking like a pair of quasimodos living on a blasted margin of human society. A wedding of monsters.
It’s kind of darkly funny. I had an internet homie read one of my unpublished novels and she said it struck her as incredibly wrong the main character didn’t have a lot of friends and family, a community around her. It never occurred to me to write that for her, because I don’t think of life as having a lot of people in it. A little failure of my imagination.
ALL THAT’S TO SAY,
I am trying to reinvent the wheel of Marriage between now and October 13th. Any suggestions that don’t involve additional invites or thousands of dollars may be welcomed. The officiant is my brother, the witnesses my father and my dude’s mom, and my home boy Jeremy.
Ideally my bro will leave his daughters at home because they are about 6 and 4 and would almost certainly misbehave – less of a problem with a wedding crowd to disappear into than it would be in our tiny condo living room. But he might not have a choice but to bring them and not his wife, so having her tend them is not a workable solution at the moment. Maybe Jeremy can play croquet with them on the dead grass behind nuestra casa.
Meanwhile, what do we do or say at this thing? How to make it feel like a ceremony instead of an awkward tea party of people who don’t know or necessarily like each other?
I’ve been pondering ritual magic. My dude once had a hallucination as a small child, possibly a seizure, where he saw a small donkey go into his house. He pursued it but could not find it. In studying demonology, I found there’s a demon called gamigin or samigin (plus many variant spellings) that is sometimes depicted as a small donkey. This tells us, if there’s anything in occultism, Sammy Gene is my dude’s patron spirit. Who is mine? I find Acar from the Fasciculus rerum Geomanticarum interesting. Also our house is full of random arthropods, and Acar helps you control those. Lambes, on the other hand, has male pronouns, appears as a woman, and causes people of all sexes to fall in love with the conjurer. So much higher queer points.
Anyway, Acar and Lambes did not have Ars Goetia-styled sigils so I had to make up my own. Sammy’s is as depicted in ye olde grimoire’s tho, save an update on the name. How do you like me now? Or as some transphobic catholic tweeter once famously said, This is the Age of Sin. Reject the order of creation. Revel in the annihilation of Man as the image of God. DESTROY. Plot designs of death. Disfigure the face of Man and Woman.
But still, one of the invitees -somebody we have to live with- is christian, so overt hostility to god jeezups is not gonna do. I’ll just slip these bad boys under the rug. Feel like I’ve lost track of the purpose of the post. Back to business…
Invitees show up at small condo with tiny living rooms and dining rooms in which to hang out. There is a back yard, which is not fenced off from our closest neighbors, but possibly also a place to be. We have some minor refreshments and chit chat, then
THE INVOCATION
Some kinda preamble to the marriage. Normally middle class people would feed everybody foie gras on platinum spoons or something, I don’t know. I feel like we should try to fill ten to thirty minutes with this, whatever it is.
THE UNION OF QUEER PEEPS
Some kinda marriage. Normally an able-bodied dad walks a daughter down an aisle, I guess a man gets escorted by a home boy? Then a preacher says jesus is cool, asks if we wanna do some slam poetry vows, then asks the do you do you, then it’s I do, rings, mandatory public display of affection, and you are forcibly escorted out of the building. I’m not sure how we’ll do this at all. PDA would be super-awk outside of a chaste smooch. Even standing for the ceremony is kinda dubious in our small space and general comfort. I feel like the run time for this should be ten minutes-ish?
POSTAMBLE
If we were outside, we stay outside for a minute to do some kind of a thing. If we were inside, we go outside, because one of the things my dude is into is getting confetti chucked at us, but he doesn’t wanna clean it out of couch cushions. Normally the woman one of us would chuck flowers at some nerds, then we get rice bukkake’d. I don’t know, this could be pretty short. Oh yeah, and my dude is cool with cutting a cake together, so this could end in a dining room, perhaps.
EVENING ENTERTAINMENTS
I just don’t dig board games, for the most part. I like scrabble but that’s because I’m better than average at it, and people don’t love losing to me, and I don’t wanna give anybody a bad time. Uno feels low stakes and foolish. Penny ante poker? I don’t know.
After that I think we’re good. Any ideas?
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So I’m out and about today, manmoded testosterone-maxxing in hoodie and hoary facial roughage. This morning we went to a garden market in semi-rural suburbia, my mans to shop and me to stagger around looking at wildlife while doing my weekly call to busted old paternal unit. I beheld a swarm of tadpoles in a planty tub (idk from garden people lingo), cliff swallows, killdeer, white-crowned sparrows, anna’s hummingbird, goldfinch (i know, u see them all the time, but I don’t, so it was cool), less positively IDed barn swallows, and very remote big-ass birds at high altitude, I think two herons and a bald eagle, but hellifino.
As we get to the counter I was reminded of the differences between the generations. Mild-mannered elders were the main run of customers, well-off and engaged in potentially expensive hobbies. People my age had a bit more aggressive energy. I feel like we’re the ones to blame for this edgy bullshit marketing like “big cock farms” products, and “hot shit” sauce. And then the youngest people were, of course, working all the service jobs.
At the counter, as at all the salvage yards and thrift stores from Ballard to Olympia, the staff had colorful hair and pronouns. Mind you that in this more rural locale they lacked the boldness of a pronoun name tag, but you got the vibe. The gentle and conventionally attractive youth that rang us up had a gender-neutral name, u kno how it be. We also visited one of those thrift stores today.
Later I had to return some junk at the mall, and it’s hard to go out there without wanting some kind of treat for my efforts – a frozen coke, mozzarella sticks, tiny hotdogs wrapped in buttery pretzel dough, u kno, pigs in a blanket. But I felt full and had already had treats to spare today, so what could I do?
I settled on visual treats. The American mall is a dying institution, they say, but the lower rent businesses that are better able to afford devalued storefronts are fascinating. Catholic art and gifts, a barber shop, a nail salon, gluten-free fried foods, a shop that sells freaky homemade fan art products… I used the smartphone to find out that saint with the unicorn horn and Flava-Flav medallion was St. Jude.
As I finished my few minutes of foolery, a child of ten or eleven approached me, and asked “English or Spanish?” I said Ingles and he issued the challenge. “First one to move is gay.”
I was in a bit of a hurry and was like, “It’s cool, I’m gay.” He was like “whoaa” and either him or one of his homies said, “it’s cool” as I walked away. Nice to get the nod of approval u little weirdos.
Kids these days.
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On my most recent May Flowers post, I commented with AI-assisted illustrations for the entries. The last m’flower was a poem written in first person, that included a section wherein I blast on some creepy bugs with guns. So my illustration was chosen from a set of midj images like these…
And how did I make these greatamericansatanesque clowns emerge from an AI mo’ chine? By feeding it this terrible screen capture from my rap debut video (at right). Like many artists, I find the image of myself – or the idea of the image – to be intellectually interesting. It makes me feel some kinda way, like who is this creature that is I?
The way it works is called “image prompting.” Your prompt in an AI art program is the words you use to tell the AI what you want. When it is just words, it’s referencing the tagging system of the program. When it’s an image, well, I don’t really know what it’s doing. AI art is the work of a “denoising algorithm” that uses statistical probability to place pixels, with those odds altered by the prompt. There’s an explanation out there for how image prompting works that I ain’t bothered to dig up because I don’t care that much. I figure it’s one of two things: Genuinely using the image to nudge probabilities, or just reverse engineering the image into a verbal prompt and using the undisplayed verbal prompt to control the AI.
So welcome to my jungle. I gots fun and games. Wherein the fun is masturbatory omphaloskepsis and the games is art that nobody asked for. I’d lead in with the cliche of “you asked for it” but you very much did not. I hope you get a chuckle or divertingly creepy vibe from the display. Proceeding thus,
This first set was just putting my image as the prompt and running my “pretty girl” style filter over it. I’ve posted these girls in comments somewhere, I kinda love ’em. But are they mees from another mother? Would this love be a thought crime against nature?
Another time I mashed my selfie up with the “glitchcore” AI art from that one post, and again, I did note them in the comments. It’s like dollar-store replicant daryl hannahs. Getting a little less transgenda lookin’, which is a shame, from my point of view. I think passing is a scam meant to drive trans suicide rates, like dieting is for… everybody at this point. Whatever.
This one was mixing my selfie with an image derived from a crappy old version of stable diffusion, 2022-style. You can see that image on my bloge in a Spooktober post. Closed eyes are the sensuousness, when equipped with horse eyelashes. Gothique.
The next set is the least passing trans gals in human history, courtesy of mashing myself up with a random pretty-ass 19th century painting lady. Think she was a nymph or something, don’t care enough to dig up the original pic. Again, I love ’em.
What’s the most obvious lady pic in human history to mash oneself up with? The Mona Lisa. This produced a character that looks very much like NaNoWriMo dot org’s most imperious mod of yore, so I viking hatted her ass, and it was a wild success.
Remember that part in Blue Velvet where Dean Stockwell lipsyncs to Roy Orbison’s In Dreams? Fucking epic. This was mashing my selfie up with him. Kinda reminds me of Phil Hartman, aww.
Here is where things got really interesting for me. I used a strange painting of Salome in a Babylonian throne room. The style might be called expressionist or symbolist, I think, and had a fuzzy and drippy effect almost like you were seeing the scene through rain – despite the golden glow. Cool piece, again, I forget whodunit, but I was very intrigued to see the AI interpret that as motion-blurred degraded VHS! This is me as tour guide at a desanctified cathedral or castle…
I took that set and mashed it up with an image of a demon from a funky grimoire, and a cool pic of the dudes from The Damned, resulting in these fucked up Marilyn Manson hillbillies. Very amusing.
Leaving out the cathedral set to only have my selfie mixed with the demon, we get… wigbeard! Amazing. I love it. This is also a good example of the strange things that happen when you mix a photo and a drawing in AI art.
The first image below on the left is actually from artbreeder, which is kind of a fun website. I added some human “DNA” to an image of a cute puppy, creating an abominable bog mummy standup comedian. On the right you can see what comes of that mixed with my selfie – some kind of queer grunge bassist who wasn’t cool enough to OD.
Mixing my selfie with a beautiful AI pic yielded these VC Andrews -styled queer cuties, who I mixed with some other stuff to get the characters from this other one. Anyway, by my affectionate words you may be starting to get an idea of which ones I find genuinely appealing. Ignoring the fingers, of course.
The one on the left below was mashing myself up with the edgy angel from the cover of the Kult TTPRG, and to my great amusement, it became some kind of hair metal groupie from the late eighties. Mashing her up with another image full of homunculi yielded this bumper crop of selfcestuous cultist little people.
Those lil’ gals became bigger and gayer and sleepier in subsequent iterations.
it’s a good time, but has this narcotic quality about it… soporific… think im gonna fall asleep now… gnite.
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