Laughing Corvus

Home of the Airis system. 34 yo transfem body. Host is Sapphic and a Witch's Doll Antishippers, Minors, and Cismen, DNI. Transmen are welcome, but this is a fem-first location. No one deserves to be harrassed for their taste in fiction. Teased, perhaps, but NEVER harrassed Fond of Zoids, Gundam, Empty Spaces and more. Check out this one's writing blog, where most of it's original ES content will live. https://www.tumblr.com/blog/laughingcorvuswrites

[divinus-cielo]

Romin

[grungixfungi]

Sorry I started sobbing uncontrollably when you expressed the slightest concern for my lack of human connection, and casually mentioned you think I deserve better than a life of isolation and loneliness. Super weird. Not sure what was up with that lol. You still think I’m cool and mysterious and sexy, right?

[kikimonstr]

drew chika instead of doomscrolling

[laughingcorvus]

you know what, that's a good question.

[thesis1337]

This may be just a personal wish but surely others out there can attest to the longing to be a scapegoat for those you care for. This one is so far gone and nobody wants to save it anyways, but can its downfall at least not be in vain? Wouldn’t it be lovely to bear the sins of all the people you know, all their suffering and hatred, and then be killed and bring all of it down to hell with you? At least you would’ve helped them if you did. At least you would have done your best. At least they’ll remember you for your choice. Someone deserves a happy ending and it wants to make sure that happy ending goes to people who deserve it.

[aspirationalbrand]

amazing things happening in late series columbo episodes

[guerrillatech]

[cpericardium]

at the euthanasia party everyone gets a sip of the forbidden lean

[tastyrepulsorboots]

Yeah, same

[thefairytaler]

My wife pointed out to me the other day that apparently most people were literally only taught how to say Sorry and not how to Apologize or even that they are different things so here.

If all you ever do is step 1, not only did you not apologize, but people will rightfully stop believing you and start getting pissed or hurt.

[inbabylontheywept]

so i made a potpourri with cinnamon and nutmeg and ginger and cloves and orange peel and anise and i have boiled it all day and it smelled so nice i took a sip and the sip was actually wonderful so now i have drunk four cups of potpourri juice and i am only now going to the internet to ask if i am going to Experience The Torments. or if i may have a fifth.

(i cannot quite explain it, but it’s like my entire low i have had a low grade stomachache, and normally i just deal but This Juice helps a little. i am unreasonably fond of it.)

[a-purely-objective-frog]

"I just made herbal tea is it safe to drink" is the most mormon-raised shit I have ever seen.

Fr tho u should be fine, it's normal to enjoy tea, and it doesn't generally lead to The Torments, barring some kind of allergy

[inbabylontheywept]

😔 highly specific and accurate roast

[sentimentalslut]

trying to explain to tumblr that the Middle Class in not their enemy

[sentimentalslut]

saw someone say that someone complaining about only having 7k in savings makes them contemplate “doing something bad”

you know that 7k covers like. one hospital visit WITH insurance, right?

[sentimentalslut]

“people who make six figures shouldn’t be allowed to complain —“ most people who make six figures are, these days, solidly middle class. where i live, a combined household income of $110k is *lower middle class*.

“people who can afford homes —“ are typically 400-600k in debt for them. also if “can own your own home” is your threshold for the rich you are contemplating eating, i think you are genuinely stupid

“boohoo your investments dropped, stop complaining rich boy” idk how to tell you this but. most of us have a retirement account. you should probably open one

[dirt-mann]

[derelictdiver]

I had a house growing up, but we were literally in crippling financial debt and I couldn't be given like. The same stuff my classmates were. Even things like Sillybandz, tiny little elastics kids wore and traded. Nothing. We had savings, but not enough that one of my parents could take off work for a few months.

I now make above average salary for someone in my country. About $20K more, so not a devastating amount, but certainly not nothing. I can afford to save and buy things and take time off work every once and a while. I also don't have any debts (college or otherwise), and that's nice.

But that's not rich. I dare anyone around me to say that my 600 square foot apartment with no AC and the computer I saved for months for is a luxury. Yeah, I can afford a beat up old car and the necessary maintenance to keep it on the road. Not a luxury; not even something I want, just something I need to do my job. And yeah, I can afford to live on my own without a roommate, but you know what? That's not even really a luxury either, that should be the standard. And I'm not exactly living it large.

I. Am. Not. Rich. I am barely even not poor, I'm like lower middle class. I couldn't afford an apartment with a washer and dryer in it. I'm literally just like, a person trying to make it in the world. If the economy tanked I'd probably starve to death a month after everyone else did, but only a month after. That kind of hatred of people like me is ridiculous. I'm your neighbour, your friend. We've gone to the pub together. I was at your birthday party last year. Sometimes with my limited spare money I give food to the food shelter, food I might end up taking if times go bad. I'm just lucky enough to have a job that pays sort of okay. What are you doing? Why would you do this?

And more than that, the actual criticism isn't supposed to be about a numerical value that someone has in their bank account. To provide an example, a doctor could be raking it in, $500K per year salary, and you know what? While they may be partially responsible for perpetuating the ills of the medical system if they're a shitty doctor, if they don't own the hospital, you can't really blame them for the exploitative practices of the medical system.

A doctor is just like. A person. They hold a bit more, but generally the same systematic power as most people (very little). They can't fix the system on their own, they can do nothing in the face of a cruel and uncaring insurance corporation except use their limited systematic power to attempt to protect you from the evils of the larger system they find themselves in, the same as you. Their salary makes them less vulnerable to problems like homelessness or chronic illness through giving them access to better standards of care, but you know what? Could still end up out on the streets. Still vulnerable to it.

The criticism, really, is of the people who own the hospital. Who own the stores, and the factories, and the trading halls. It's of an ownership class who owns all of society. Capitalists.

[princessporcelaingirl]

[hypnotic-handler]

Some girls deserve to be praised and trained. The fact society treats them awfully makes me disappointed we can't just turn them into well cared and well behaved pets for their owners.

[super-ion]

"Dragons are covetous creatures," she explains, her breath hot on my neck. "We desire things of beauty. That is our nature."

I dare not breathe as she drags her tongue, rough and wet, across bare skin, down my neck and across my shoulder. The lick is saturated with her magic, and it leaves a trail of tingling skin as her power seeps into my flesh.

"Do you still not yet understand why I might want you?" she asks me.

"N-no," I reply, my voice small and unsteady, barely more than a squeak.

She nips my ear, razor-sharp teeth pressing dangerously close.

"Because you are beautiful, " she purrs.

[super-ion]

"Why do you not sing?"

My hand slips, and the strings of my harp let out a discordant screech that brings a frown to her face. I don't know that I want to find out what happens if she stops finding my music to her liking.

"Pardon?" I ask as I do my best to recover.

"I have known many musicians who would sing to music such as yours, yet you are silent. Why?"

She cocks her head to the side to better fix one of her gleaming eyes on me.

I want to reply that many musicians do not sing, but that is not the answer to the question she is asking. I have no doubt that she possesses some magic that can see into the very heart of me.

I decide to be honest. I do not want to find out what happens if she catches me in a lie.

"I do not care for my voice," I admit.

"Why?"

I feel my skin crawling with the weight of her attention, the power of her magic.

"My voice is too deep," I say, barely louder than a whisper. "Too rough."

"Do you find my voice too deep?" she rumbles, amused.

I shake my head, powerless under her scrutiny.

She grunts a self-satisfied sound, and reaches out a claw to carress my face.

"Maybe you will sing for me, maybe you won't," she says as she traces the claw down my cheek with unimaginable gentleness. "But you will come to know what a pretty little thing you are before I am done with you."

[super-ion]

With impossible delicacy she fastens the necklace on me. Her retreating claws intentionally trace the places on my neck where she licked me. The magic that still lingers there heats at her touch, bringing a thrill to my chest.

She cocks her head in that appraising way of hers and grins, flashing her razor sharp teeth. 

I face the mirror to examine the jeweled collar that now rings my neck. The fine silver filigree and chains shine bright against glittering sapphires and opals. It is the finest thing I have ever worn, worth more than I have ever owned.

A rustle of fabric behind me makes me turn and my body betrays me by letting out a soft gasp. 

She has produced a gown of shimmering silk that gleams with an opalescent sheen. It is just as fine and beautiful as anything else I have seen in her hoard.

My heart begins hammering in my chest as she settles back onto her haunches to watch me with that hungry expression of hers.

Almost unbidden, my hand reaches out to touch the smooth fabric of it. A familiar gnawing need starts up in the core of me. The heat of her magic flares in response and I jerk my hand away. Letting her place her jewels on me is one thing, but this…

Her eyes gleam knowingly.

“You want this,” she purrs. It's an observation, a suggestion, and a command all at once.

I stand there, frozen in indecision, torn between the comfort of the familiar and the thrill of the unknown.

“You are allowed to want things,” she says, rising to her feet and pacing around me. The scales of her snout brush my ear and her hot breath caresses me as she whispers, “you are allowed to have the things you want.”

I dare not move as she raises one of her talons to the collar of my shirt. She slices the fabric with barely any effort at all. Terror and arousal seize me. Despite the implicit threat of her claws and her teeth and her magic, I want this. I want to want this. 

Scraps of my old life literally fall to the floor around me and I somehow find myself even more exposed and vulnerable than before.

For reasons I can't comprehend, she rumbles in appreciation at the sight of me.

Then she nudges me towards the gown and I stumble into motion. With shaking hands I pull the gown on. When my hands falter, attentive claws assist. She treats me and the down with the same delicate care that I've seen her handle her other treasures.

Her other… treasures.

I have become part of her hoard, haven't I?

The thought does not distress me as much as I expect it to.

The closeness of her, every one of her breaths on my back, sets the magic she laid in my skin ablaze. I feel it seeping into my bones, wrapping itself around my soul. I don't know what it will do to me, but part of me is growing more and more eager to find out.

Finally, she gently turns me to face the mirror.

“You see,” she rumbles, “such a pretty little thing you are.”

[tgirl-tamag0tchi]

I’m just a girl with biology bachelors who gave up on her former dreams of becoming a college professor, in order to cut contact with her family and write weird queer ttrpgs.

[shakyfoundations]

HOW does this keep happening to biology BSCs

[tgirl-tamag0tchi]

It’s the circle of life.

[shakyfoundations]

I’ve got a really vivid image of Simba singing ‘I just can’t wait to be something big in academia’ and then it smash cuts to tgirl Simba staring blankly into the middle distance as she hits ‘publish’ on Gumtree

[fayemouse]

lol if you imagined me as anything but repugnantly unattractive that's your fault

[fayemouse]

sigh

hey girls, get yourself a mirror and hang it across from your bed so when you're sad and self-loathing and bedrotting, you can look up from your computer as you are about to self-loathing-post and go "oh hey that's a relatively cute girl in that mirror" and have a moment when you're the baby realizing that it's you, that's you in the mirror.

you're worth it, cutie.

[ace-trainer-alice]

now perhaps it was a bad idea for any number of reasons, but i think it was actually really really funny to make "snap out of it!" and "remember who you are!" deepeners so the whole time its friends were trying to free it, it was locking the fuck in even harder and getting excited about being rewarded by me later.

[super-ion]

"Dragons are covetous creatures," she explains, her breath hot on my neck. "We desire things of beauty. That is our nature."

I dare not breathe as she drags her tongue, rough and wet, across bare skin, down my neck and across my shoulder. The lick is saturated with her magic, and it leaves a trail of tingling skin as her power seeps into my flesh.

"Do you still not yet understand why I might want you?" she asks me.

"N-no," I reply, my voice small and unsteady, barely more than a squeak.

She nips my ear, razor-sharp teeth pressing dangerously close.

"Because you are beautiful, " she purrs.

[super-ion]

"Why do you not sing?"

My hand slips, and the strings of my harp let out a discordant screech that brings a frown to her face. I don't know that I want to find out what happens if she stops finding my music to her liking.

"Pardon?" I ask as I do my best to recover.

"I have known many musicians who would sing to music such as yours, yet you are silent. Why?"

She cocks her head to the side to better fix one of her gleaming eyes on me.

I want to reply that many musicians do not sing, but that is not the answer to the question she is asking. I have no doubt that she possesses some magic that can see into the very heart of me.

I decide to be honest. I do not want to find out what happens if she catches me in a lie.

"I do not care for my voice," I admit.

"Why?"

I feel my skin crawling with the weight of her attention, the power of her magic.

"My voice is too deep," I say, barely louder than a whisper. "Too rough."

"Do you find my voice too deep?" she rumbles, amused.

I shake my head, powerless under her scrutiny.

She grunts a self-satisfied sound, and reaches out a claw to carress my face.

"Maybe you will sing for me, maybe you won't," she says as she traces the claw down my cheek with unimaginable gentleness. "But you will come to know what a pretty little thing you are before I am done with you."

[super-ion]

With impossible delicacy she fastens the necklace on me. Her retreating claws intentionally trace the places on my neck where she licked me. The magic that still lingers there heats at her touch, bringing a thrill to my chest.

She cocks her head in that appraising way of hers and grins, flashing her razor sharp teeth. 

I face the mirror to examine the jeweled collar that now rings my neck. The fine silver filigree and chains shine bright against glittering sapphires and opals. It is the finest thing I have ever worn, worth more than I have ever owned.

A rustle of fabric behind me makes me turn and my body betrays me by letting out a soft gasp. 

She has produced a gown of shimmering silk that gleams with an opalescent sheen. It is just as fine and beautiful as anything else I have seen in her hoard.

My heart begins hammering in my chest as she settles back onto her haunches to watch me with that hungry expression of hers.

Almost unbidden, my hand reaches out to touch the smooth fabric of it. A familiar gnawing need starts up in the core of me. The heat of her magic flares in response and I jerk my hand away. Letting her place her jewels on me is one thing, but this…

Her eyes gleam knowingly.

“You want this,” she purrs. It's an observation, a suggestion, and a command all at once.

I stand there, frozen in indecision, torn between the comfort of the familiar and the thrill of the unknown.

“You are allowed to want things,” she says, rising to her feet and pacing around me. The scales of her snout brush my ear and her hot breath caresses me as she whispers, “you are allowed to have the things you want.”

I dare not move as she raises one of her talons to the collar of my shirt. She slices the fabric with barely any effort at all. Terror and arousal seize me. Despite the implicit threat of her claws and her teeth and her magic, I want this. I want to want this. 

Scraps of my old life literally fall to the floor around me and I somehow find myself even more exposed and vulnerable than before.

For reasons I can't comprehend, she rumbles in appreciation at the sight of me.

Then she nudges me towards the gown and I stumble into motion. With shaking hands I pull the gown on. When my hands falter, attentive claws assist. She treats me and the down with the same delicate care that I've seen her handle her other treasures.

Her other… treasures.

I have become part of her hoard, haven't I?

The thought does not distress me as much as I expect it to.

The closeness of her, every one of her breaths on my back, sets the magic she laid in my skin ablaze. I feel it seeping into my bones, wrapping itself around my soul. I don't know what it will do to me, but part of me is growing more and more eager to find out.

Finally, she gently turns me to face the mirror.

“You see,” she rumbles, “such a pretty little thing you are.”