sistersqueaks

[sistersqueaks]

Abscission Hierarch, colored pencils, markers, and white pen on paper by apelure

[sistersqueaks]

🐍 Gifts of Pallas 🐍

"Duty of Care on the Thermadon" by Sister Squeaks. Mixed media - pencil on paper, photography, digital painting. ---

Of all the things you gave me, Through times forgiving, Through times hateful, The stone and venom in my veins Are the gifts for which I'm most grateful.

In younger times, you welcomed me to your home Into halls of gold and dust, Where divinity resigns to rot and rust. They said I had your beauty, but I didn't care. You gifted me your trust.

For a time, you had mine too.

The awful tides came, Shaking with malice, want, and disdain. I was its afterthought, a vessel of collateral pain.

I grit my teeth. The storm passes. And I am alone.

It was you that found me, ruined along with your golden court. They said I brought the storm; Tempting fate by daring to wade the shores. And you were left with one resort.

“The storm is a storm, it will do as it will,” Said your peers and lords, seeking sacrificial blood to spill. An offense had been committed, not by wind and wave, But by me: the siren who lured them to the hill.

You gifted me a curse, for someone else. A pox on my beauty, A gaze of sculpture, a vipers nest to trade for holy spells. The pantheon appeased, A public at ease. I was forgotten... but not cast into the hells.

I bear the fangs as a crown, For venom will feed my soul when the sun goes down. And I'll drink it all night, Cause when the morning creeps in, It's my memories of them that drown.

I had stars in my eyes, that burn brighter now. And when caught in their light, they'll wonder how The world keeps spinning, and they stand still; Enraptured by my beauty, exquisitely killed.

They can call me a monster, and they may be right, but I know what I saw that night. There were eyes in the waves. People within the storm. And the screams of statues sound as quiet to me as I did, Cold as stone, under the pale moonlight.

I'll spit upon the severed heads of demigods.

Hang my old vestments on funny, fearful sculptures.

I don't think I'll pray to you anymore. But I won't curse your name.

The sugar-sweet venom that dulls my veins, and the pretty stone statues that decorates my home Are all the company I need, in my garden of fading pain.

I owe you nothing. But I'm still grateful for your gift. The spite of venom and stone, Has spared me the sympathy of your peers and lords: An apology made of shit.

You knew what I discovered: No god would ever lift a finger, To right the wrongs of their own brothers. ---

Thank you very much for reading! 💚 Feel like leaving me a few dollar-bucks for my time and effort? You can tip me at https://ko-fi.com/sistersqueaks, if you're so inclined. Absolutely no pressure. 🌹

[sistersqueaks]

"Duty of Care on the Thermadon" by Sister Squeaks. Mixed media - pencil on paper, photography, digital painting.

[sistersqueaks]

It's a lovely day for violence! ✨^w^✨

[sistersqueaks]

💰🩸 Eat for Mama 🩸💰

CW: resource inequality, references to war and genocide, anti-establishment/Anarchist art and philosophy, mention of repatriation, non-graphic references to blood, whips, biting, chains.

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Eat.

Drink.

Not because you've done something to deserve it, Don't wait until you've done something to earn it,

Sweetie.

Drink because you're thirsty and Eat because you're hungry, 'cause

Meritocracies exist outside but At home you get to have just what

You need because you need it. Gentleness is not defeated.

Play.

Sleep.

Not because you're a good kid, though. Not rewards for all the things you know.

Play because you're bored or happy. Sleep because you need a nappy.

Mama says you've been told enough How things like these are only for the People who are good enough Have done enough Have won enough,

You are enough.

But that doesn't make it any better, is it?

You're not a pup in my warren, Much as I'd like to keep you safe and warm and

Pretty words are nice to hear but You need more than doors shut In your face when you try to knock, So pack a bolt cutter for the padlock,

Darling.

Cover your face while you smile for the cameras,

Honey.

Mama doesn't care that they said you were too loud, Mama doesn't like that they told you not to be proud. Mama doesn't know how many people will die before they realize this nonsense was never meant to be allowed,

So,

Eat the people who tell you you're not worth being satiated. Drink the blood of the bastards who leave you exanguinated. Play hard with chains and whips and teeth and blood and whatever else you negotiated, and Sleep soundly at night knowing Mama loves you no matter how many times you get repatriated.

The hunters wandered far from the caves and decided that Fire is a thing for burning in battles and people with different hats.

Imagine that!

Mama says its okay to chew on the bones Of people who burn down the world's unknowns, 'Cause if they can't play with animals they shouldn't have treated you like one, What are your teeth compared to their stones?

Burn this shit down with the fire that ravens and magpies and foxes had pilfered. Don't swallow excuses that leave you bewildered.

Eat

Drink

The only things left when the food and the water are gone.

Play

Sleep

Hard when men of the world tell you to fun is wrong.

Mama lost a skrew or two and Doesn't think that you should do

Just what they say when every day They take your toys she made away

On top of hoarding all the drink and food Till all that's left to meet your needs are bone and blood.

They carved a shiv from their desire, So bleed their circuits to the wire.

Eat the rich and Drink their blood and Play too rough and Sleep when they'd prefer you worked a third shift And don't you take to heart any of this toxic shit,

For Mama.

She worries about you when its dark, And this world just breaks her little heart.

---

Thank you very much for reading! 💚 Feel like leaving me a few dollar-bucks for my time and effort? You can tip me at https://ko-fi.com/sistersqueaks, if you're so inclined. Absolutely no pressure. 🌹

[sistersqueaks]

Turn the tv off x2

[sistersqueaks]

Rackdamn Art

[sistersqueaks]

Maria Petrova

[sistersqueaks]

Weird Dog by Jonathan Wesslund

[sistersqueaks]

Poem: "Crone"

I will still say "god bless you," Because I do hope he will; I just don't think he's gonna.

I see the worst in everyone, And I don't think it makes me better than them - Actually, I think it makes me worse.

It makes me feel worse.

God blessed me, once. I came so hard I almost saw her, And ached and bled afterward for days.

Many days.

I'm still bleeding, a little.

Because god never travels alone. Where god wanders, the devil is dragged. Scratching and clawing at things as her holy shadow is cast,

To grab and beat and punish the sinner, For even the things that skitter the trenches of perdition must wonder: "Why would god have allowed things like us to exist, if not to punish the deserving?"

I've seen the face of god.

She's hideous.

Because all things are made in her image, As she unravels them and knits them back in patterns that crassly resemble her. And I see her work in all her crafts.

And I don't think seeing bad things means I'm good.

I feel very alone, and probably do not need to. I feel bitter, in a way I never wanted to feel. I feel like I'm pregnant with the little girl I never got to be.

I feel older and younger than I did before.

And I feel assured that I can be the obstinate crone I need, when there are men and gods and devils and many-masqued monsters who need to be swept out the door with a battered old broomstick.

Something bubbles from the depths of your cup. Are you ready for me to tell you what it is?

Because I'm cursed with certainty, and I'll stay that way whether I share my lore with you or not. .

. . .

Thank you very much for reading! 💚 Feel like leaving me a few dollar-bucks for my time and effort? You can tip me at https://ko-fi.com/sistersqueaks, if you're so inclined. Absolutely no pressure. 🌹

[sistersqueaks]

"Where Does She Go in the Morning?" - Multimedia piece by Sister Squeaks. This art style (which most of my work I share here will be done in,) is achieved by drawing with pencil on paper and photographing my work, before overlaying other photographs and adding color in a digital painting program. This is the first of many dark fantasy "digital collage" pieces that eventually inspired my Deepwood writing project.

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Thank you very much for checking my art out! 💚 Feel like leaving me a few dollar-bucks for my time and effort? You can tip me at https://ko-fi.com/sistersqueaks, if you're so inclined. Absolutely no pressure. 🌹

[sistersqueaks]

A Diviner's Introduction to the Deepwood

What is the Deepwood?

The Deepwood is no single place, and exists in no single time. The Deepwood is the woods you ran through in your childhood nightmares, and the cool breeze in 100°F weather that makes you feel like things are gonna be okay.

The Deepwood resists truisms and purity, and is also devoid of falsehoods and corruption.

All is profane. All is ancient. All is exalted, in the Deepwood.

The Deepwood is a primeval and primordial forest that exists as a grounding realm of magic and mystery. Its where forgotten primal Matriarchs of old guide the witches who are burdened with the anointed ability to see them; those witches from different locales across time and space whose eyes have been opened to ancestral and primal communion in some form: whether they resent or revel in it.

The Deepwood beacons, and the Deepwood approaches; with insect legs and antlers in unlikely places and eyes in the Dark and hope that can only be seen without the harsh light of the high-noon sun.

The Deepwood welcomes you home to the Darkness that existed before you knew what to call it,

Before you learned to be afraid of it,

Before you felt a need for human words,

Before you forgot that you were one of the Dark and wretched and angelic things that belonged there, too.

Welcome home.

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Thank you very much for reading! 💚 Feel like leaving me a few dollar-bucks for my time and effort? You can tip me at https://ko-fi.com/sistersqueaks, if you're so inclined. Absolutely no pressure. 🌹

[sistersqueaks]

(WIP Project) Deepwood Song: Dark Anthology

Hello and good evening fellow internetters. Internetlings? Internetists? Whatever. I'm here to announce my upcoming anthology novel, *Deepwood Song: Dark Anthology.* On this account, I'll be sharing updates on my progress, and even some of the artwork and writing from the book. The book is a collection of Queer Matriarchy BDSM erotica, poetry, and multimedia artwork all relating to a shared setting: an ancient dark fantasy forest that transcends time and space known as The Deepwood. Naturally, there's some parts I'm just not gonna be able to share here. Soon, I'll be setting up a Patreon to share some of the spicier content on; and you're also free to look at some of the parts I've already posted on my fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/10741508 Now, you might be thinking "Squeaks! Why are you sharing your work for free if you're assembling it into a novel to theoretically publish??" The simple answer is, I'm writing this because I need to be writing it. I would classify much of this project as a kind of art therapy, and it is art I like to share pretty freely. I don't feel a need to place every single part of it behind a paywall; and I'd share the erotic parts here too if I felt more confident it wouldn't get this account taken down. Read and view any of my poems, prose, and art here; and when I do eventually figure out how I want to publish, you can pay for a copy if you feel like its worth it. One of my core values is informed consent; and I can't think of a better way of modeling that value than letting you see for yourself whether my work is something you'd like to buy. The works I post on this are my intellectual property; and while I'm allowing that property to be exhibited on my own terms, I reserve all legal rights I have in regards to it, and to my own privacy. I do not give my consent for my work being used by generative or reasoning A.I. of any kind. Want to contribute a dollar or two to me for sharing my work here? Never fear! I have a digital tip jar here, but only if you'd really like to: https://ko-fi.com/sistersqueaks

Thank you kindly for your time and attention. May you see in the dark more clearly than those who would harm you, may the fire of your hearth warm and not blister you, and may all the Dark One's shiny things find their way into your talons, Little magpie.

Sincerely, Sister Squeaks.