corvid-corvette-coven

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Hey! So this is targeted and i’m going to go take my meds now! How dare you.

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what’s the fucking point if Judas cannot be forgiven

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My tattoo artist told me his teenage son came out to him as trans by giving him a bunch of blue cupcakes and a greeting card that said "it's a boy!"

"That's cute," I said.

"It was NOT cute!" he snapped. "I thought he was pregnant."

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*asexual laughter*

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I fucking loathe advertisements

On an unyielding and bestial level of my existence, advertisements are one of the foulest and pettiest irritations.

It’s an abomination to my senses to hear the engineered attempt for appeal and interest instantly decay any chance at a good day.

I’d sooner throttle the breath from another psychoanalysing profiteering bastard in those think tanks than subject my ears to another obnoxious and gruesome affliction like the wet crunching and smacking that the KFC advertisement department imagined would stoke in me some hunger for their product.

Kill me and yourself so we can leave this capitalist hellscape behind, and may we pray in spite of faith that death is empty, so we might not encounter the architects of such afflictions.

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there is something so darkly comical about tumblr potentially outliving twitter

tumblr, which is held together with duct tape and madness, run by three raccoons in blood stained Yahoo! hats and a handful of crabs, its only discernible source of income the sale of shoelaces from an inside joke so inside no one knows the original source anymore and fake blue checkmarks... that website still lives on

truly the cockroach of social media and I love it for that

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hoping kamala harris wins specifically so that elon musk finally kills himself

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they hate each other so bad i need them to kiss about it

i did the stupid meme format bc why not.

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the magnus archives/protocol in a nutshell

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The Modern Messiah

Christ would be crucified again if He returned for us in the modern day.

There is no seat at the table for a Man who loves despite gender, queer identity, race, religion, creed, occupation, or sins today.

There is no pew to sit upon, nor bread broken, nor wine poured for such a Man who stands before us and calls Himself the Son of God once more.

He could not be reconciled with the Messiah we know.

The modern Messiah is alabaster white, painted drops of bright red mark Him 5 times across the arms legs and ribs, and He is carved upon a cross, nailed proudly above the priest like a prized Fish, or Lamb, slaughtered and stuffed and pacified so He may not defy the teachings of religion once more.

The modern Messiah is offered no seat at the table, for the safety of sin, He is kept a spears length away, and remains upon the wall.

If a man is born once more as Jesus Christ, He would loathe the priest and cry out against the churchmen who preach violence and know only hate in their hearts.

We will seize Him with such violence just as before, we will bolt Him upon a crucifix of steel, guild Him in a crown of barbed wire, and the Son of God will die again as a bullet pierces His ribs.

Those who pray to the marble Man chained in churches dread the day those stone still eyes and lips turn upon them, to pray back.

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thinking about Jonathan Sims and Samama Khalid.

Thinking about how, by all laws of Horror Story Trope, Jon should not be the protagonist. If I'd never heard of tma and you showed me a lineup of the archives crew and asked me to guess who died first I would have pointed to Jon. He's the paranoid professor archetype. The one who dies discovering some crucial bit of information at the beginning to push the plot forward. He's unfriendly, cowardly, insecure, and makes other people do his investigation for him for all of season 1. He doesn't do anything even remotely heroic until the second half of the show. He has no interest in romance for the first half of the show. The audience wasn't even aware Jon had a dark past until he starts telling us about A Guest for Mr. Spider. But he is *Chosen.* Despite the fact that he has no actual qualities of a hero, he's chosen as the eyes special boy. Over the course of the show he starts to become more and more like an actual protagonist. He starts trying to save the world, resist the eye, all that jazz. For one reason or another, being the Archivist turns Jonathan "definition of a side character" Sims into the main character.

Then we have Sam. Sam starts acting like a horror/mystery protagonist almost immediately. He is young, charming, has a mysterious past (that we are made aware of pretty much right away) and a curiosity that causes him to frequently put himself personally in the path of The Horrors. He pokes around where he doesn't belong and looks for clues. He's the center of an office love triangle for goodness sake. He has a strong sense of duty to others and will put himself in harms way to protect those he loves. He exudes main character energy. He has everything a horror protagonist needs to push the plot along. But Sam wasn't *Chosen.* Despite being exactly the person you'd expect the plot to follow. And I can't help but wonder if, in the same way that the narrative made Jon important, it's going to make Sam unimportant. Irrelevant. If, with his rejection from The Magnus Institute, Sam is going to disappear completely. Become a mystery.

Because at the end of the day, so much of your life, your impact on the world, your relevance, has absolutely nothing to do with you. So much of it has everything to do with those in power, and whether they decide you're important.

It all comes down to your own rotten luck.

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I wanna teach a kid about death

I don’t mean i want to kill their parents or something like that

I want a small child to run at me, going too fast for their legs and talking too fast for their head, to ask me what happens after we die

I want them to ask me alot of things actually

Tell them they might understand this better when they’re older but still explain it as best i can

And i also want to tell them that sometimes you don’t always understand better when you’re older

I want to look them in the eyes and tell them

“nobody knows what happens to us after we die.

all we know is your body stops, and we’re pretty sure your thoughts do too

we don’t know if you go anywhere,

we dont know if you can still hear us

we don’t know if you’re just dreaming and are about to wake up

so we don’t know what happens to us after we die

but we do know that just means we gotta enjoy all the time we have now

for now, you can run and play dragons and laugh and argue and cry and sing and dance and that’s all apart of life

and alot of people believe in stuff about death that we can’t really prove or disprove

but that’s why we get so much time to live

so we can die and be happy knowing we had a really good time”

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While I appreciate artists who are diligent about tagging their work for every random kink or fetish it might appeal to, I can't help but feel that sticking the "#small penis" tag on a character with a seven-inch dick is making some very specific assumptions about one's target audience.

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something about most of the americans who post about the 'shitty educational system making them think there are no cities in mexico' or something is that, on a deep level, they enjoy & revel in their ignorance, their incuriosity. they share the same bombastic and self-congratulatory anti-intellectualism as any trump-voting uncle, except enjoy couching it in the auspices of [white] queerness & disability.

i am white (more or less) and queer and disabled & attended shitty schools in de facto segregated areas, i have encountered these ppl all my life, and what has always struck me as bizarre and embarrassing is the sheer ease with which alternate forms of info were accessible. all you needed was an internet connection, which we almost uniformly had. i found information about whiteness & intersectionality & colonialism & empire as a preteen through blogs and tumblr and other social media, and when i got older, followed my curiosity to actual books on these topics and more. it did not require anything exceptional, or even a higher education.

people know these resources are there. they know how to find them, in no more clicks than it takes to get to their favorite show or fanfic or whatever. but the discomfort that encountering new info requires, the embrace of the unknown, the genuine intellectual & emotional engagement with difference and friction, is something that they deep down know that "we" (in the global north/west) have the privilege to refuse. and there is a horrible "pleasure" in that refusal, that knowledge that one is permited to know nothing and still have the world at one's feet. it is despicable and inexcusable, and i'm glad it is getting vocally called out.

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It’s remarkably easy to buy a machete in central london

- Celia Ripley, 2024

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Person who wants to do stuff trapped in a body that needs to lie down

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Ever just give up

not overall, not forever

but does it ever just get too much and then you reach a level where your ability to care goes away

i still sob at ghosts of imaginary anxieties

i still curl up listen to my music and stare off into space for a while till nervous energy demands i rise and accomplish something, only to then walk 3 steps and turn back to my wallowing

i still try to heat that iron and brand some searing pain other than the constant criticising voices in my mind, but the butane runs out in seconds and i’m forced to take only this mental pain, with no easy lifelines to draw back my drifting sanity

i still choose to wait for the hot water to refill instead of taking that cold shower to wash away these past few days of muck

but it’s 9:00, and the water won’t be back till 1:00am

so i’ll set a timer and sit on my floor

still in my red towel, i’ll still try to use it to shield from the probably unvaccumed and repulsive carpet

I’ll sit here, damp and poorly covered, i’ll bask in the winter chill for four hours and wait for whatever blessed warmth to return to my life

and despite my little failures efforts, i couldn’t care enough to cope any differently

the chill numbs after a blank few minutes

and i’ll wait for that warmth

however long it takes