#i am freeing myself of this mortal plane

[canadianno]

Hold on

I need to make sure that some kids doesn't die

-alz,fuckin visits this late?

Pfft

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Heaven Sent You to Me

Pairing: Apollo (who happens to look exactly like Orestes in Agora) x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3.8k

TW/CW: umm we all know Greek Mythology is like screwed up right? So there’s mean patriarchal men in this, a bit of power play between Apollo and reader, innocence!kink, oral (f!receiving), PinV sex, loss of virginity, talk of pregnancy

A/N: YES I AM AWARE THAT I SHOULD BE WRITING THE MORE THE MERRIER OR ANSWERING THE OTHER 87 ASKS IN MY INBOX BUT MY MUSE IS FICKLE OKAY? She said “Oscar as Apollo or no words at all” so here we are 🤷‍♀️ I watched The Two Faces of January last week and kept thinking that Oscar looks like a Greek god and @lovely-cryptid ‘s greek mythology AU lives rent free in my head and I couldn’t help myself…

Also the title is a lyric from an Ariana Grande because I have fully reverted ten years writing a Greek Mythology AU for my fandom du jour with a song lyric title bc I'm ~artsy~

You should have known he was a god. The way his fingers seemed to fly over the strings of his lyre. That enchanting, mellifluous voice. The smile that shone brighter than the sun itself. You’d encountered him in the woods behind the temple consecrated to him for Zeus’s sake.

Though who could blame you for assuming he was a mortal man? What would a god, an Olympian, want with you – an unimportant peasant in a small, unimportant village? He’d appeared to you as a mortal, a beautiful, alluring one, but a mortal. In fact, he’d been rather short in stature. Apollo’s affairs and exploits were famous, nay infamous, and even now it seemed impossible to reconcile the man who had spoken to you with such sweetness, who had wrung ebullient laughter, as well as previously unimaginable pleasure, from you was the mighty god you and your family had worshiped since time immemorial.

The revelation that you had lain with the god of light, music, medicine, the averter of evil, had been one that raced your head endlessly over the past few days, but it never failed to send a shiver down your spine. You instantly conjured the broad, chiseled planes of his body, so starkly contrasted with the gentle way he’d made love to you. When you revealed that you were a virgin, he was tender with you. Fragments of memories flashed in your mind’s eye but the one that oddly lingered the longest, and the most vividly, was the sweep of his thick, dark lashes across his high cheekbone when his eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy as he met his release. He had been the portrait of pleasure and beauty. You were truly a naive fool for not realizing the divinity in front of you in that moment.

“We must pray that you conceive,” your mother had declared. “You have already secured our family great status, but a demigod? Dmitri, can you imagine?”

Despite her praise, your cheeks burned in shame when she turned to your father for his reaction. You detested how openly and calculated this very intimate, typically private event in your life was being discussed. No one was supposed to know. Yet your sister had found the blood stains on your chiton while laundering it, and she’d coaxed the details out of you.

“Did it hurt?” she whispered.

“No.”

Her brows furrowed, “But you bled. It always hurts. It hurt my first time.”

“I…I don’t know. It didn’t. There was a–,” you blushed bright red and lowered your voice even further, “–a stretch, but it was pleasurable. I didn’t notice the blood until you did.”

Your sister was not willing to let it go. A trait among the women in your family that you’d failed to inherit.

“Well, how large was he?”

“Caris,” you urged her to stop. Yet, you knew your plea was useless, so you quickly approximated your lover’s size with your hands.

“Oh that definitely should have hurt!” Caris squawked in disbelief.

“I’m not talking about this anymore!” you proclaimed.

And that really should have been the end of it. Yet when you, Caris, and your parents made your weekly tribute at Apollo’s temple the following day the priests and acolytes were all abuzz. The god had appeared yesterday.

Initially, you had been as exhilarated as the rest of them, yet your stomach dropped and face blanched as the priest who had seen Apollo described him. Inky curls, olive skin, dark eyes with a strong brow and prominent nose. The god possessed an undoubtedly commanding presence, but there was a playfulness, an exuberance to him.

You and Caris traded bewildered glances. The priest’s depiction of Apollo matched up rather perfectly with Phoebus, the young man you’d stumbled across when you’d decided to take a walk through the forest rather than immediately returning home after your visit to the temple.

“It’s him,” she asserted lowly as you all headed back home.

“Shhhh,” you tried to speed up and away from her, a stupid idea because Caris had longer legs than you. When she inevitably caught up with you two seconds later, you insisted, “Don’t be silly.”

“Apollo is the god of healing and diseases. Is it really so far-fetched to believe that he could minimize any pain for his lovers? Especially the virgins?”

“Caris! Enough!”

The vehemence of your demand had caught your mother’s attention. While in the moment you were able to extinguish any suspicions she had, eventually Caris’s big mouth betrayed you. You had expected her to rage. To punish you. You, an unmarried, unbetrothed woman, had engaged in an activity that was the most important gift in your dowry to your future husband. You readied yourself for the insults and reproaches your mother would hurl at you for becoming damaged goods as a marriage prospect.

Yet, she all but kissed your feet when she found out. She rejoiced, then immediately marched you back to the temple to meet with the clerics. That was when the humiliation began. You were examined to ensure that you had in fact been deflowered. As if that hadn’t been degrading enough, you then were stripped and prayed over for hours, leering men begging Apollo for a sign to confirm that you were indeed the one the god had chosen to ravish. The manner in which the priests brusquely groped and prodded at you couldn’t have been more different than the way the deity himself had treated you, the god they claimed to serve.

When a sign didn’t immediately appear, doubt had set in. A mortal woman winning the attention of their patron god was the most momentous thing to happen in your village in generations, so if you were lying? Eternal shame. For you and your family.

You were kept overnight in the temple in a nicely appointed room, but forbidden to see anyone. You cried yourself to sleep, yet much to your relief, at dawn, Apollo provided the confirmation the priests needed and you were allowed to go. Of course, by the time you returned home, everyone knew.

After having a bit of time to contemplate it, you realized that it wasn't so much the fact that every single person in your life began treating you differently that unmoored and overwhelmed you, it was how swiftly it had all happened. It hadn’t been your choice.

You were required at the temple daily now for rituals. Thankfully, the fact you’d lain with a god disqualified you from becoming an acolyte, you were still needed for “veneration” purposes. You soon deduced this meant that the priests simply wanted to keep you around to curry favor with Apollo.

You hated it. You were the only one present in the chamber currently who had ever meaningfully interacted with the deity, yet you were reduced to a glorified altar ornament for their rites.

The only way to weather these hours-long sessions was to recall what brought you here in the first place. You retreated into your memory of that fateful afternoon when you met Apollo.

It’d been a beautiful day, and you were more at ease in nature. The hustle and bustle of the village and the imposing columns of the temple felt suffocating to you.

You’d heard him first before you saw him. The most beautiful music wafted toward you. You couldn’t have turned away if you’d wanted to. It was as if the mixture of the melody he played and the tune he sang had entranced your feet to carry you to the source of the sound. You hadn’t heard the song before, but inexplicably, it had an odd air of familiarity within your ears.

The sight of him initially seemed to be a joke. He had to be a mirage of some sort. A song so gorgeous coming from a man who was even more dazzling? Had you tripped and hit your head on your stroll from the temple? Surely you were dreaming.

His song ceased when he sensed your presence.

“I’m sorry,” your apology tumbled from your lips at once. “Please don’t stop on my account, I didn’t mean to–I’ll leave. I apologize for intruding.”

Before you could tuck and run, he called to you.

“Don’t! There’s no need.”

You froze, and slowly pivoted back to face him. He’d gotten closer to you, which was terrible for your clarity of mind. In addition to his good looks, he radiated an irresistible air of power, and his proximity only compelled you to submit to it more.

“Thank you.”

Suddenly, the man before you turned boyish and shy before he queried, “Would you like to hear more?”

“Please.”

It was the first time you were treated to his smile. It reduced you to a blushing fool with a startling amount of efficiency.

He motioned to a nearby boulder for you to take a seat on. You obeyed instantly. He took his place on a nearby log and resumed plucking at his lyre.

His song was haunting, beguiling, and hopeful all at once. His voice lilted over the lyre’s strings. He sang in a language you didn’t understand, and couldn’t begin to identify, but you were captivated all the same.

You were slightly embarrassed, though not at all surprised, that there were tears staining your cheeks when he concluded.

He grinned dopily when he saw you dabbing at your eyes, “That bad, huh?’

“Stop,” You chuckled through your tears. “You have a gift.”

He shrugged off your compliment with a frustrating amount of nonchalance.

You needed to know more about this mysterious man. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m merely passing through.”

“Are you a minstrel then?”

He smirked as if you’d said something inadvertently humorous to him. “I suppose you could call me that.”

“Well, what should I call you then?”

“Phoebus.”

“Have you traveled much, Phoebus?” you inquired.

“I have.”

“Could you tell me about the places you’ve been? I’ve never left this utterly boring village.”

“I will, if you tell me what keeps you here. Is it your village’s association with the deity?”

You cocked your head in confusion. It was an odd question to you. You strove to answer diplomatically, “While I wouldn’t say that Apollo is driving me away, I wouldn't say he’s keeping me here either.”

Again, that secretive little smirk tugged at the corners of Phoebus’s quite luscious mouth. “I see. He’s vastly overrated isn’t he?”

“Oh I wouldn’t go so far to say that!” you attempt to course-correct. “We’re blessed with his patronage.”

A mischievous glint danced behind Phoebus’s dark, magnetic eyes. “Say no more. Now, where do you want to hear about first?”

He proceeded to regale you with tales of the most wondrous places. Of seas and mountains and monsters and the divine. You got lost within his stories. You wished you could live within them.

It had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to accompany him on a stroll when he suggested it. Typically warnings would blare in your head - you must not stray any further with this handsome stranger, he could sully you, or worse, harm you, but you felt entirely safe with Phoebus. At the time, it had been impossible to put your finger on why you’d felt so. Now, it was abundantly clear: you’d been in the presence of one of the most powerful creatures in all of existence. Still, he chatted and wandered with you in a remarkably similar manner to mortal men your age.

When you two came across a river and Phoebus proposed a swim, your cheeks had burned with sheepishness. He hadn’t mocked or derided you, he simply offered to turn away while you undressed and submerged yourself into the water to afford you some modesty. However, Phoebus hadn’t been quite as bashful as you had been when disrobing. In fact, the flourish with which he all but flung off his chiton led you to believe he wanted you to watch him, rather than avert your eyes like you immediately did once you realized what he was doing. You hadn’t been quick enough however, and had caught a delectable glimpse of his toned chest, thick thighs, and what you deduced was a well-endowed groin.

You only dared look back up when you heard the splash signaling his entrance into the river. He resurfaced with his black curls matted and slicked back against his skull, an impish grin on his lips. He reached for you and you floated to him without hesitation. The feel of his bare skin against yours was intoxicating.

“I want to kiss you,” he murmured, even though you two were the only people around for at least a mile.

“You may,” you granted him permission in a similarly hushed tone.

Your lips drifted together, and then it was as if you had become a feral animal let out of its cage. You couldn’t get enough. Your lips moved against his ravenously, your legs wrapping around his torso on instinct when he moved toward the river’s bank. While the press of his arousal against your hip was certainly a foreign sensation, you weren’t afraid. He deposited you on the warm silt for a moment before retrieving your tunic and laying it under you, a makeshift bed for what was about to come.

It was then that you confessed. You didn’t know what to expect once the words left your mouth - judgment, indifference, a perverse excitement - but Phoebus smiled softly, and nodded his head, as if he’d expected it.

“Then I shall show you how beautiful pleasure can be,” he vowed.

He took his time, dipping his head between your breasts to mouth at your pert nipples, then lower to between your legs. When the tip of his nose drew a featherlight line along the seam of your sex, you gasped. You may have been a virgin, but you weren't totally naive. Caris had been betrothed recently and regaled you constantly about her rendezvous with her soon-to-be husband, but she had never mentioned this. It was as if Phoebus was sending you flying through the clouds, straight to Olympus, with only his tongue. Your fingers had wound into his damp curls to hold on for dear life as you fell apart for him.

It wasn’t until your pleasure crested that he slid a thick, suspiciously uncalloused finger through your folds and pressed it inside. He cooed comforts to you when you tightened around him, your body’s first reaction to try and expel the intrusion. One digit became two, and after a while, he guided your hand to manhood, showing you how to grip him, coaxing and coaching you on how to bring him back to hardness.

Caris had always advised you to shut your eyes and not to look at a man’s member for too long, since it wasn’t the most pleasant of sights. She was wrong in this instance. Every bit of Phoebus was mesmerizing, and his erect cock was no different from the rest of him. His encouragements echoed in your ears as if he was speaking them to you in the present.

“Yes, that’s it sunshine,” he’d panted, “You can grip me tighter, oh, that is lovely. You are a fast learner, aren’t you? I’m going to make you feel so very good.”

Becoming one had been the most intense sensation you had ever endured. It was all too much, yet you wanted more. You keened when Phoebus had draped your legs over his broad shoulders to penetrate you deeper, your skin suddenly feeling too tight. It was too much, it was too much, you’d chanted to yourself. Phoebus’s girth was unrelenting, but at the same time you never wanted it to end.

Your lover was an attuned one, so when he observed that the position was perhaps too vigorous for his little virgin, he’d rolled you over so you were straddling his ample hips and speared on his desire.

“Here, grasp onto my shoulders,” he instructed you, “so you can control the depth and the pace, yes?”

Phoebus had long fucked the words out of you, so your reply came as a breathless, frantic nod. You wished to thank him, truly, you couldn’t have asked for a more considerate man to share this with for the first time. Instead, you did as he said and found a tempo and pattern of undulating your hips against his that suited you.

Phoebus couldn’t help himself, he began meeting your pelvis, thrusting up into you. You howled in pleasure, and his gaze instantly searched out yours to confirm those were good sounds instead of pained ones. He didn’t look away once he had found the answer he was hoping for in your eyes. Those deep brown irises had bore into yours, and the longer you looked into them, the more convinced you were they held galaxies.

You were so caught up in Phoebus’s gaze that you didn’t notice he’d snuck a hand in between your bodies until the pad of his finger connected with your sensitive bud.

“There you go sunshine, let go for me, you can let go.”

You felt as if you were going to explode out of your body as Phoebus continued to repeat those sweet-nothings as if they were a prayer.

“Let go for me darling, I know you can, let go–”

“You may go.”

The high priest's imperious tone snapped you out of your reverie. No longer were you in the forest with Phoe–Apollo, but rather the towering temple consecrated to him. Your relief that you could leave superseded your annoyance at being interrupted. You desperately needed to return to the privacy of your bedroom for a bit of self-relief.

Perhaps it was because you were in such a rush that you didn’t initially notice him as you flew out of the side entrance of the temple. It was his voice that stopped you.

“You’re not with child.”

“Holy Hera! You frightened me!” You put a hand to your chest to calm your beating heart.

“So you can stop fretting." Clearly, Apollo wasn’t particularly remorseful about the scare he'd given you. "Though to be honest, I’m surprised you’re relieved. Most women, beings far more divine than yourself, are usually thrilled to carry my offspring. They clamber for the chance and flaunt their bellies if they conceive.”

“I…I could not withstand the attention, I do not think. Nor the pomp and the responsibility.”

“The priests would help with the burden.”

“Yes but the child’s father wouldn’t,” you pointed out. “As great an honor to mother a demigod would be, I would prefer a…someone to experience it all with.”

Apollo nodded. “That I could not give you.”

“I know,” There was no resentment or disappointment in your voice. “I would never expect you to.”

“That must be why I yearn for you still,” Apollo mused, “why I cannot stay away.”

“I...my family is expecting me.”

Apollo was not accustomed to being refused. He fixed you with a look of amused incredulity after you spoke.

“I do not want them to know. Or anyone for that matter.” You realized how ungrateful you sounded. To spurn a god was to write your own death sentence. “Not that I don’t desire you, or that I wish to disregard your desires–”

“You want me all to yourself.” When you opened your mouth to amend his statement, he stopped you. “It’s alright. I want you all to myself too.”

“You have me,” you averred. “However, when the priests and my mother get involved…”

“I understand. I do not wish for fanfare either.” He pulled you close to him. Your breath hitched at the press of his hardness into your hip through both of your chitons.

Your mouths were millimeters apart. Instead of closing the distance, you asked, “Why did you tell me a false name when we first met?”

He smiled that bright, beatific grin that warmed you from the inside out. “I suppose for the same reason that you want to keep this a secret. If you believe your family is meddling, then mine is…”

Apollo didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to understand. You giggled, a sound he much enjoyed. At last, he captured your lips with his. Kissing Apollo melted you, you became a molten, liquid being when he pressed his lips to yours.

As transcendent as the kiss was, the god could feel that you were holding back. “What’s wrong, sunshine?”

You were not proud of the flip your stomach did at the pet name. Once you regained control of yourself, you replied, “Nothing, nothing at all. Forgive me.”

“Don’t apologize, simply tell me what is bothering you,” he countered, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

When you hesitated, his fingers tilted your head up so your eyes met. “I won’t be angry.”

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to voice your complaint. It was funny, you’d spent your entire life beseeching Apollo for this or that in the temple, yet when he was standing right in front of you, eager to know what troubled you, you couldn’t find the words.

“Why me?” It was a deflection from Apollo’s question, but still a valid inquiry.

He chuckled. “You’re asking me to apply logic to attraction, something inherently instinctual,” Apollo pointed out. “Though if I had to try to put reasoning to it, I would say it was because you are kind, beautiful, you have a tight, juicy little cunt…” he cupped your mound to demonstrate his point. You gasped at the contact. “...and when I’m with you, I feel the most like a mortal that I've felt in decades.”

Mortal? Was that a bad thing? Were you unintentionally insulting the deity?

Apollo was quick to assuage you, “I enjoy it, sunshine. The immediacy, the urgency. It’s refreshing. You’re refreshing.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. You sought to return his kind words but what was there to say? It was obvious why a mortal such as yourself would fall for a god.

“Now, I won’t ask again. What vexes you?’

“I…after we…our first meeting,” you struggled to select the right words, “the priests wanted to corroborate that we’d lain together, and their methods were…they were not very gentle.”

Your lover’s eyes turned stormy. No sooner had you told him did a crack sound from what you guessed was inside the temple.

“No, please! Don’t hurt anyone!” you begged him just as swiftly.

Apollo’s face softened slightly. “Even after they violated you, you show them compassion. I swear to you I won’t, however, I must ensure that you, and by extension, myself are treated with respect.”

“Of course,” you acquiesced. Gods were not known for their mercy, so the fact he was willing to compromise with you at all was a victory.

Apollo pulled you into another kiss that stole your breath. “If I cannot have you now…then tonight. When the moon peaks in the sky.”

“How will I find you?”

A smirk played across his lips. “Don’t fret, sunshine. I shall ensure it.”

A/N: Sooooo…what do we think?! 🫣 A little more flowery than my usual but I just had too much fun with this and now I have ideas for a few installments 🤦‍♀️

READ PART TWO

Tagging a few folks who might be interested:

@bitch4marvel @luciannadraven33 @oof-its-roobi @twwcs, @ninebluehearts @damnzelsoul @missmarmaladeth @welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction , @romanarose @dameronscopilot

[sky-kiss]

YAS! Free time is best time! Hmm for prompts, I love the idea of low intelligence Tav and Raphael? Like Tav convinced Raphael is a Fae? Man offered her food, won’t call her by her name, rhymes, and wants to make deals. He’s totally a fae, and he gets so pissy she won’t be convinced otherwise.

Or for spicy prompt. I know it’s not everyone’s thing, but innocent Tav being deflowered by Raphael as part of a deal? Or cockwarming, that’s my favorite as well.

A/N: Had to fight, had to actively restrain myself for going for one of these prompts. Will do the scenario though. And I weep. But when Idiot!Tav calls, I answer.

______

R/T: Local Devil Tries to Flirt; Local Idiot Too Far Gone for Banter

______

There are mortal eccentricities he finds charming. Ambition, for one! Their pluck! The gods create meager little creatures, soft, small, and weak, yet they forge ahead! Unconcerned by their relative lack of status in the universe! He'd go so far as to say he admires the trait. And there is something endearing in their youthful naivete, comparative ignorance of the outer planes. Raphael is not so proud as to admit he has not actively exploited this lack of knowledge in the past. It's always served his best interests! 

But it can be, and currently is, a double-edged sword. The cambion strokes his chin, lips pressed to a thin line, as he surveys his champion. His little mouse regards him with narrowed eyes and a vacant stare. "Come, my dear! Eat and make merry for tomorrow," he prolongs the sentence, letting it hang between them with a practiced theatricality. "You may die." 

"Is that a threat?" 

Raphael chuckles, shifting his weight to the back foot, his right hand pressed to his sternum. "From me? Have I been ought but a friend? A champion, an advocate, in this your hour of need?" 

She huffs, "I can't see that you've done a thing for us. You dangle a deal and won't let me take it!"

"The thrill of anticipation, sweetling. Best in all things." He winks. 

She does not reciprocate. Her brows pulled together; she frowned, arms crossing her chest- not the body language Raphael wanted. In truth, he's been finding the whole arrangement a touch challenging. There's no back-and-forth or witty banter- not like he planned it. Tav shakes her head. "And that's another thing. I'm not your sweetling. Or your dear. I'm Tav. Can you manage Tav?" 

"We're certainly feeling combative, aren't we?" The devil narrows his eyes. 

"You can do it, can't you?" 

And he's momentarily struck by the notion that she isn't challenging him; she's genuinely curious if he can do it. Raphael hums, "Nuanced as it is, I am perfectly capable of naming you, Tav. Is that satisfactory?" 

She shakes her head. "I don't trust you." 

"Clever girl. Only you don't have to trust me. There is something deliciously illicit in such partnerships—a hint of intrigue. A flash of- "He leans nearer, flourishing with his right hand. Sparks dance from the tips of his fingers. "Danger." 

"No good ever came from the fae-folk." 

"My dear, I assure you, I…" Raphael cuts off, brain catching up to his tongue. "Beg pardon? Fae?"

"Fae," she repeats. Tav eyes him with renewed caution, hand slipping to the hilt of her (comically ineffectual) cold-iron knife. "I'm many things, Raphael, but I'm no fool."

"Truly." He licks his lips. It's rare for him to be purely baffled, but here it is. Nothing about her suggests she's joking. A quick peak in the little idiot's head suggests she believes her statement with absolute certainty. He crosses his arms over his chest, indicating himself with a hand sweep. "My dear, what do you make of all this?" The horns, red skin, the tail…clearly infernal. 

She shakes her head. "A devil would deal more honestly. I'd be more inclined to trust them. This is…a glamor. Convincing, but false."

He blanches. "What." 

"You bring me here. You make me pretty promises and ply me with wine and sweet words. You speak in riddles and songs!" He wants to argue that those are all devilish traits, but gods, why bother? Raphael pinches the bridge of his nose. "Devils may be evil, Raphael, but at least they're honest."

"To their detriment, apparently." He sighs. "Pet…" 

"Tav." 

"Tav," he corrects, feeling his temperature rise in response to his temper. "I have offered a contract, its terms clearly stated."

"No. You've offered me a deal. No contract, no terms. And the matter with the Orthon! A purely verbal arrangement. No devil worth their salt would go along with that." 

"How dare you! Impertinent, thoughtless…" Raphael catches himself. He makes a mental ten count and assures himself the deal will be done shortly. It all comes back to the crown. He needs them. He…gods, he has to play along. It tastes like bile on his tongue. "Fae, yes. You've found me out, pet. A…creature of chaos. Such am I." 

Tav nods. "Thank you for your honesty." 

He honestly considers strangling the little idiot. 

[thetentaclecommander]

Thaks for the tag @damadisangue! Lesse:

When did you start writing?

I remeber as a lil tentacle in human 3rd grade writing this meandering, long, just where was this boat going like 25+ page story for English class and just had a ball in making up the story. I didn't care that the story was a hot mess, I unknowingly realized I liked lore building. But, I realized that after I wrote it one, I went way over what the class wanted cause of my overachieving tentacle tendency and two, that I hated editing, grammar and all the boring English stuff. I didn't try to write a story again till many years later and realized the story itch had come back to me.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I actually, genuinely like slice-of-life and very inspirational/good vibes type of stories. But I simply like writing drama and assholes too much to write that sort of stuff often.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

My writing style recently got compared to the book House of Leaves. I need to read this but considering the few pages I've seen, I'm honored and can see the comparison at points.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

My big black desk with a standing desk attachment to force my tendriled self to get up, covered in paper that sometimes gets neatened only to get it ruined again due to time or my cat familar. Headset, dual monitors, pc w normal tentacle ergonomic peripherals, crystals, eldritch symbols covered in dark purple black ichor. Normal desk set up.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Do a ritual seance with burnt wormwood and channel into Nemesis' headspace. Find myself mentally projecting on the 56th astral plane with spoitify playing something dank and bizarre to mortal ears and chant ioioioioioio-

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

sheding of human fear sheding of human loss yet knowing such removal only brings more weakness to the fore the loneliness of being the only one the question of faith both internal and external to want is to long to love is to harm until you become one's true self free from greed, from selfish power games and inflicted misery and living in truth not lies strength in finding self not fighting for a control that isn't yours to demand no gods but us  no masters but us utter the lies the waking profane io io io

What is your reason for writing?

breathe and become as we only can bring you hope-

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

- oh and we're back. Sorry, I had a walk about and forgot to finish this. But I hope to be known as a trolly, yet fun author that challenges your sense of taste, and makes you question what is. Though, being known as that fucking persistant Nemesis and Jill shipper is good enough, lol.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Um, I can make up shit on the fly and not need drugs to do so, ig?

How do you feel about your own writing?

Eh, my pre 2010 stuff I think are lame but meaningful as my baby steps as one has to start from somewhere in this dimension?. I think I hit my stride in 2020 when I entered my erie sacrilegious era but so far, I'm pleased that my writing is passable and singularly me.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

Pfft I've never given a damn about what is popular in the greater fandom or fleeting reading trends. Readers will get from me stories under my terms as I've had to fight tooth and nail to get to where I'm at and so, this tentacle writes for themself first and foremost and secondarily to entertain. I am a showtentacle at heart after all. I do enjoy when readers read, mind, but love it most when they take this betentacled offering from me and savor it, like really eat into it and see the wormy layers of plot and intricacy I've baked into there. Just envisioning them consuming, ingesting my work, feeling the trailing of my worms down their throat, into their belly to really get what I'm putting down is wonderful. Hoy, my minions! Feel free to join in! @naerwenia @vopecata @coiled-dragon @s-dei @lmshady

@depraveddove​ @the-bar-sinister​ @unchartedperils​ @sweet7simple​ @meltic-daze​

@misch3fbunni3​ @autistichalsin​ @villaindevotee​ @coffinliqueur​ @scroggles​

@goth-automaton​ @azulas-daddy-kink​ @katophoenix​

and whoever else wants to I'm not your parental aid (edit: what is with tumblr not tagging ppl ahhh)

[huddleston07]

Vampire - First Draft

[RE: Mirrors]

Everyone says we don't cast reflections. Everyone is wrong. We do. We just make sure nobody else does. After all, reflections are one of the biggest tells. The reason it's become so common to think that is because most vamps with a shred of common sense have started to dabble in magic, warding spells specifically. But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?

Your question was about why I never look at my reflection when it looks almost exactly like me, correct? Why I seem to avoid mirrors like the plague. And the answer to that is simple. The answer, of course pertains to souls. Every mortal being has one. The gods made it so. The reason for that is simple. Your soul is connected to your life. That's why people die shortly after selling their soul. It no longer belongs to them, so it leaves their body.

You aren't supposed to occupy this plane of existence without a soul.

Yet, here I am, as well as others like me. Vampirism is the act of destroying the soul, and replacing it with something else. Something other. Even we are not quite sure what it is, but it gives us power. And that is the reason many wish to become vampires. It is a foolish decision to do so. You are not yourself without a soul.

The Other may be able to make us seem human enough, sure, but it doesn't know what to do about reflections. So it will usually ignore them. You have to train the Other how to copy what you look like in the mirror, and it must be by memory. Even so, it will be wrong.

It's the eyes. They are the window to to the soul, after all. And without a soul, there is only a Nothing to look into. The Nothing does not like being watched.

[THIS IS THE END OF WHAT I HAVE THUS FAR]

Feel free to leave any thoughts, questions, ect. in the comments! I'm having fun writing again, and it's given me motivation to do a lot of stuff that I've been putting off for a while! It really doesn't matter to me whether or not this takes off, I would just like for a few people to be able to read the stuff I write.

[inkedwingss]

Lupina Luna

Now the days would be forever lonely. Except for moments of great connection and immersion, which I can never maintain for long periods because even from the wholeness one needs to breathe. Except also when sensitivity runs freely through the forest of my mind, without worries—moments of absurd faith where I feel cradled by the wind like a baby cradled by its mother until deep and peaceful sleep. How I wish to cradle you, little one. Now, it is you who cradles me from afar, perhaps in another plane, and the mournful smile on my face makes sense, it even looks beautiful, a funereal and languid beauty where the most beautiful and fragrant flowers I have ever seen bloom.

But in the steppe where I was raised, and which I regularly visit, there are no flowers except those between my sharp teeth. They sprout in my stomach and grow up my throat. Apart from that, as far as my eyes can reach until they hit the distant mountains, this sea of grass extends with rare islands of shy forests. The steppe would not be the first choice for most, but that's how I live. Always in the most difficult way so I can understand what the world is: scars do not lack me. Here, the fresh scent of endless grass, my imperial carpet, clogs my nostrils with freedom. My paws slide across the ground, and I am not afraid to expose myself to the light of the Sun or the Moon—there is only me, and no one else. Everyone is gone. From afar, I hear voices, their shadow, their spectre, but they cannot approach. Where my paws take me, no mortal would dare tread, especially not within the night: dark and silent, it shines with its spectacle of diamonds in the velvet of the immense sky that rises above me. There is peace, fulfillment, and no questions. The steppenwolf breathes deeply and falls asleep.

And now my eyes open to the world, to this world, so material and solid. It's where I live and desperately wish to escape. It seems like a cage, but it's a very spacious cage. So spacious that I feel trapped inside out, something like too free, purposeless, lost in destiny, without direction. The longing remains intact; the compass, destroyed. My wild self roars and writhes against the limitations of this body—of this universe that sometimes seems so dry, infertile, and cruel. A vastness of disappointment. I sniff out goodness, my solitary hunt sometimes leads to complete exhaustion and I lose my senses, so I dissolve and stop feeling, I’m now a marble statue. But then the warm breeze of a summer memory passes by, and I warm up and melt. There is always something to smile about, if we look closely enough. Maybe I just have a good nose, nothing more.

What to do if not explore, then? What would life be worth if not the magnificent adventure of exploring every corner of the world and discovering all the hidden wonders, treasures, and within people: miracles? Let me live until the end. Not a drop of blood will remain, for I have the thirst of a pack. In every corner, a story, a new universe to discover. I rise from the rocking chair on the porch, and then the endless race begins, the wolf descending a gigantic hill, so colossally huge that we can barely notice its slope. The owner of the night still shines in the clear blue sky, refusing, rebellious against dawn; she does not want to set. I extinguish my tobacco in the ashtray, and the rising smoke fumigates my aura. The dry and warm sensation of this mist that reaches my eyes—like the mist of the early hours of the day—contrasts with the wet grass brushing against my paws. They collide against the ground, noisy, splashing the dew of dawn—now awakened behind the mountains, the invincible titans. I step off the porch, facing the darkness of the night threatening to engulf and transfigure me. I close my eyes, run and run towards infinity, and howl at the Moon.

2016

Originally written in Portuguese, while listening to this 1989 masterpiece in an endless loop. Some southern Brazillian rock with very heavy lonely-wolf-of-the-old-and-tragic-west vibes.

[dewracle]

After Eden

Ve’s life after the downfall

AUTHORS NOTE - This is just a part of a lore based drabble fic I’m posting in ao3! This will be based around my fic Path of Reason

….

Post Eden, post the event that Ve thought would set him free, turned into nothing but pain for the poor man. His stomach hurt, the scar tender to the touch, his neck always sore- he hated it. He hated how alone he was. But at least he was free…

His subconscious had been locked away for years at this point, hidden and trapped inside of the mind plane that Sleep forced him into. But now he felt as whole as he could.

Veon- his newly adopted name- suffered along. His partners who he promised to return to left him… They abandoned the poor man after he sacrificed everything for them. He didn’t understand why at first, but he soon learned it was due to time.

The ves- Ve had been locked away in Eden for 2 years, rotting in Sleep’s grasps until he was strong enough to run. Or at least that’s what he thought…

Ask him, “Did you ever think you’d be alone in the end?”

He would shake his head, smile behind his broken mask and answer you truthfully, “No but that doesn’t mean it didn’t cross my mind. In truth, I deserve this. I deserve to suffer alone, to walk the mortal plane without another. I am the end of myself.”

[ofglories]

Title: To Meet Upon a Spring Eve warnings: N/A Characters: Emrys (as Ambrosius) Time Period: Pre-Camelot, prior to Ambrosius' defection from Rome

He walked through the woods, stars he had never seen before wheeling overhead through the dense branches.

The path was barely visible in the star and moonlight, a trail of bluebells and cowslip, dotted with smooth, white stones. As he walked the flowers grew denser, as did the trees themselves. Heavy and ancient oaks, wild rowans, and between them brambles and ferns. Like a forest from a dream. All the more so as his guides grew in number.

What had started with one, a willowy Fae he had recognized from aiding with a task some months prior, had swiftly grown into a practical parade. Beings the man had never seen before weaved between the various humanoid Fair Folk, all shimmering ever so slightly in the twilight shadows. A stag with coat and antlers a pure, blinding white dashed across the path before him, pausing only a moment to look at him with dark eyes filled with countless stars, before hurrying on its way. Strange butterflies flitted through the air, glowing softly like they had absorbed the gentle light of candle flames. More and more, and all the time the willowy Fae he recognized kept a gentle hand on his wrist, tugging him along through a forest that no longer felt like it belonged in the mortal plane.

Then his guide stopped at a clearing, where a stream flowed in a circle around and beneath the curtain of branches of a willow, older than anything he had seen before. They smiled at him, waving him on towards the stone path through the water, through the leaves.

And, with a deep breath, Ambrosius stepped forth.

"Well come and well met, child of the stars," a voice called out, coming from a tall, broad man with a gentle expression upon his face. Long white hair covered his head, his clothes made of both fur and seemingly leaves of an ancient design that he could not place. But upon his head, crowning him, sprouted a pair of magnificent antlers, winding and twisting together like tree branches, with ribbons and jewels hanging from them. "Come close, child, I wish to look upon thee and speak."

Another Fae?

But the air felt different within this willow canopy. Bright and alive and powerful, more than it ever had with the other Fair Folk Ambrosius had encountered so far.

Like something...from another time.

Still, he remembered the lessons his mother's stories had told, the important old tales. And, bowing his head somewhat, Ambrosius approached the man.

"I am honored to meet you, my lord, though I must admit to not knowing who I have the pleasure of addressing this evening." A warm hand, so large it could have crushed his head easily, cupped his cheek, lifting his face. To meet eyes like those of the stag's from earlier. Deep and endless, with stars and galaxies swirling in their depths. But the chill he experienced with the deer did not come this time, offset instead by the gentle, almost grandfatherly smile upon the strange man's face.

For a brief moment the endless stars seemed to clear, a soft blue in their place that reminded him of his mother's eyes. Only for a moment.

"I am," something was said, a language that sounded more like the rustling of leaves, the flowing of water over stone, than proper words. Ambrosius blinked, a small frown forming. With a snort the man shook his head slowly, tapping his free hand against his chin. "Ah, forgive me, child. I momentarily forgot myself. Age can fog even the minds of us divinities. In times past, thy ancestors called me Cernunnos. I would prefer to be called thus."

Divinity?

Cernunnos?

It made little sense, but... "Forgive me, Lord Cernunnos, but I must wonder what a presumed deity would wish with myself? I am...just a soldier." That was all Ambrosius ever was. Ever had been.

"Just a soldier, and yet thou has done much to help my children wheresoever thine paths did meet." Cernunnos chuckled, a deep rumbling noise that sounded like waves upon a distant shore. Like an oak swaying in high winds. "Modesty suits thee, but do not let it blind thine eyes to thy true worth. But the night is short, for mortal children. And mortal child thou are yet, though a star blazes in thy breast. So, unto thee I have prepared a gift. A blessing of protection, picked by my young Willow who owes a great debt."

A flower was plucked from Cernunnos' branches, soon joined by a berry and, with a squeeze of the god's hand, in their place was a small piece of familiar candied honey.

Something that seemed to amuse the divinity, if the crinkling of his eyes was anything to go on.

"That's...?"

"I learned long ago that mortals prefer such gifts to be subtle in form upon their giving. So it takes the appearance and taste of a favored treat in thy life. Now," he pressed the candy to Ambrosius' mouth before the soldier could react, eyes wide as he met the endless stars in inky depths once more, "eat this and know that it will grant thee my favor. No poison of mortal or mundane creation will bring thou to harm, and those of magical means shall not bring immediate death nor incurable harm. Thus speaks I."

The candy was pushed past his lips, melting away like snow instead of the solid sweet it felt like.

And then it all began to spin before his eyes, everything blurring as Ambrosius gasped and fell, legs suddenly weak. Before sleep fully pulled him under the soldier saw Cernunnos' lips move once more...

"Lord of Nature and God of the Fae, I, Cernunnos, grant this gift."

Then nothing.

Hours later he woke, blinking slowly, as sunlight warmed his face and the taste of honey filled his mouth. The only proof it had not been a dream.

[leon-swedfinqs]

Good Omens D&D AU Master Post

As I start to make and post more and more things about the AU, I decided I would make a master post to sorta keep things organized and easy to find in regards to information and any art that I post/reblog (in case you are curious and happen to miss anything also sorta for myself if i wanna look back at something i specifically posted but didnt write down anywhere else like the idiot that i am LOL). Once I build up the motivation to write the outline and potentially start writing a more "concrete" fan fiction with this idea, I will also post the chapters here as well. Yay organization!!

ART

Initial AU Doodle Dump

Crowley AU Design

Headshot Sketch

Two Idiots Interwoven By Fate

Pre-Crowley Aziraphale

Resting By The Campfire (+ reblog with silly Azi doodle)

They're so gay and into each other (+ other fun doodles)

Reverse AU of the AU Scenario

The sword is the last resort

I have been burned (comic)

Our destinies brought us together

In their youth

Crowley (Post Solaris)

Blessing? Or curse?

The Ram and the Lamb

With you, I have forever~

You flash bastard!

LORE STUFF

Character Master Post

Character Fun Facts

Crawly the Snake

Crowley and Ophiuchus

Comfort in the Past

WRITING

Breaking Aziraphale Free

Their First Meeting

Immortal in the Mortal Plane

Beautiful Eyes, Shielded and Guarded

A Witch’s Letter

A Trip To The Market

Every Action, Crashing Down

Newt's Side Quest

Home Is Where The Heart Is

A New Party Member

Home Is Where The Heart Is - Epilogue

Braided Timelines

ASKS / OTHER INTERACTIONS

@chaotic-french-fries's art

Muriel's Role in the Story

What about Eric the demon?

@rofl-chips's art

@rofl-chips’s art pt2

World Building and Tentative Timeline

D&D and Drummer!Crowley

Character Sheets

Every Frame While We Dance

[x-heesy]

Coming from another realm I'm a work of fiction and I'm never coming back I'm running back into the mind of Howard

Lovecraft plague mask in the back gas is irrelevant

I'm traveling on fuel from the shadow of Hephaestus flames

Crafting a blade for me so I may faithfully

Run up in to WBC and decapitate anything that I see

Funny how ignorance makes me so mean

Like, when a motherfucker believe anything he read or see on TV

Knee deep into propaganda, better pop a hand of xans

If you're too pussy to handle your life like a man

I can't relate I'm on another plane

Can somebody tell me how to live and breathe and die a mortal way?

Im a lost cause really, hey

Never gonna wanna belong, pardon while I burn sage

Everything I read leads me to believe maybe one day

Im a be apart of something so much greater than me

When I perish

Get the kerosene and burn me to oblivion but don't make a scene

I need privacy so the prophecy may be complete and I merge with the images of ethereality

Count on me when I am finally free I will watch you while scrying in the sea

Underground catatonia

I found a scroll in Rome from a secret map I found in Macedonia

Fuck this music, I don't got the time to even hate cause I got secret service people from the Vatican approaching, bruh

Whatchu tellin' me?

I'll shoot an apple off your wifey's head and miss

And hit the bitch in the head like William Lee

A murderous 8th dimension night breed killa Dylan be

Clip on my hip and the chip on my shoulder turned into the monster next to me

Bloodline illuminati 666 lizard people all around me man

Rozzy really bout to take a trip to North Korea and come back a brand new man

Coming back and founding Dylananastan

To build a wall to separate me from the stans

Bitches wanna hold my hand

But they dont even know about the demo of my favorite band

Dylan got the stamina to keep it goin' 90s baby getting buck like Pretty Tony

I don't got no time for phony rap bologna

We gon' fuck the bitch and have a ceremony

Mask on face

Weapons in my place

A hundred million bodies Ima concentrate

Anybody with a cheerful disposition

Who believe in heaven might just meet their fate

Dylan throw it, tell the bitch to go wide

Fuck around, participate in homicide

From sea to shining sea, a christian holocaust

A pagan neo-judaistic genocide

Yesterday, I got so fuming angry that

I stabbed myself, in the thigh, with a fork

Whatchu know about the wretched wicked shit?

Like the atrocities of Malachi York

Busted and dusted, like an angel that just lost its way

And we all gone die anyway so

Fuck it, mane

Mind gone straight lost in a fog of haze

Two brothers from the housing authority

Came to take your kids and dogs away

@bethanythestrange @frenchpsychiatrymuderedmycnut

Wr̵̠͖̂̀̄́́̕e̵̯̞̎̈́̀͑̂̓̽̕͝t̵͎̳̠̏͐͒͆̐c̶̡̙̙̞̊̅̋́̒̔̈̑̑h̶̨̢̺̪̻̱̞̓̓͊ͅe̵̯̞̎̈́̀͑̂̓̽̕͝d̶̖̠̖̳̏̇̏̆͆̂̾̚ (f̵̢̘̦̺̼͈́̒̈́̊͝e̵̯̞̎̈́̀͑̂̓̽̕͝ǎ̸̹͔̅̈́͘t̵͎̳̠̏͐͒͆̐. Ro̵̳̞̖̖̩̻̩̎̍̓́z̴̡͍̹̼̝̣̃̇͑̈͗͘z̴̡͍̹̼̝̣̃̇͑̈͗͘ Dy̵̧̛̝͙̪̘͑͋͌͂̓͌̉ͅl̵̡̬̹̙͕͍͙̜̂͌̾i̴̛͕͍̤̐͆͆͂̇̈́̍̍͊ǎ̸̹͔̅̈́͘m̵̖͌̈́͜͠s̶̢͎̮̝̭̫̞̏̒͛͗͜) b̵̧̙̮̰̜̳̟͈̞̓̀͋̅̓̔ͅy̵̧̛̝͙̪̘͑͋͌͂̓͌̉ͅ Gh̶̨̢̺̪̻̱̞̓̓͊ͅo̵̳̞̖̖̩̻̩̎̍̓́s̶̢͎̮̝̭̫̞̏̒͛͗͜t̵͎̳̠̏͐͒͆̐e̵̯̞̎̈́̀͑̂̓̽̕͝m̵̖͌̈́͜͠ǎ̸̹͔̅̈́͘ṋ̷͆̽̍͊e̵̯̞̎̈́̀͑̂̓̽̕͝ v̷̛̼̣͍͈̮̉̾͗̄̋̉̄̀̄8

[are-my-ocs-ta]

AITA for forcibly breaking a dead person's soul to prevent it from destroying the town?

I (???) am part of a faction of grim reapers who operate under different weather conditions in a particular town. I'm in charge of the people who died in this town when it rains. My job is to collect the souls of people who died during rainy weather before the weather changes. I'm quite good at it but that is to be expected since I was made for this specific purpose.

Now, sometimes the souls aren't happy with moving on and may try to resist and if there's enough determination to keep them from moving on, they will turn into ghoulish monsters that can wreck havoc on the town. For this, I'm equipped with a magic umbrella with a hooked handle as my weapon as well as a magically enhanced raincoat and rain boots as my armor (I always the hood up for extra protection). We trap the monster within a closed space so it doesn't destroy anything while we subdue it. If a soul is to go out of control, our goal is to subdue it and and have it come to grips with reality. Souls should not be destroyed since it's assumed that the soul can't move on if that happens. However, we aren't too sure what happens since it almost never happens and the last time this happened, none of the current reapers were present. But we know it's not good since that reaper isn't around anymore.

So, I was doing my rounds as usual and came across this one person (F 20s) who died after falling of her fifth floor apartment window. Seemed like a simple reaping but when I tried to get her to come with me, she ran. I chased after her and tried to get her to move on but she wasn't listening so it got to a point where she was so determined to not move on that she turned into one of those ghoulish monsters I mentioned before. I set up the closed space and fought her with everything I could. But she wasn't going down and after a while, I was getting worried because the rain was letting up and once it stopped, I couldn't stay on the mortal plane anymore and would be forced back to the Realm of Reapers. Which meant the closed space I set up would dissipate and the monster would run free in the world, destroying everything in sight. With no other options, I used my last resort attack and destroyed the soul. I couldn't do much damage control because almost immediately the rain stopped and I felt myself being sent back to the Realm of Reapers.

Once I got back, everyone was not happy with what I did and they said I broke one of the most important laws we had. I'm to be put on standby until they can figure out what to do with me.

I know I wasn't supposed to destroy the soul but if I let it run free, then we would of have a bigger problem of the whole town being leveled. But doing so seemed to have caused an uproar and disorder in the Realm.

AITA for saving a town from destruction by breaking the soul of a dead person turned ghoulish monster, causing chaos in the Realm of Reapers?

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Hello you gorgeous human! Thankyou for sharing your talents with us. You've such a lovely way with words! Your notifications always make my day :D

For the Flower themed ask.. violet, orchid, crocus and zinnia if you don't mind 😁

Hello lovely! Thanks so much for sending me such a kind ask! <3 I'm so happy to hear that you enjoy my writing!

violet— do you like to cook or bake? if so, what is it that you like to make?

Yes I do! My students always say my brownies are the best (literally, just pull them once I feel like they're done and say a quick prayer on their way in). I am the person in charge of cooking for big family holidays, too. But if I'm just cooking for myself, pasta is really my go to. I do absolutely LOATH doing dishes, so I'm accepting applications for a spouse who doesn't (haha).

orchid— when you're being extremely quiet, what are you typically thinking of?

If I'm being quiet I'm in one of two states: 1. I'm really upset. Like I'm having big mad/sad feelings and I'm working really hard at not lashing out; I have a few people in my life that I make absolutely crazy by doing this but I would rather have hard discussions after I've had time to process. 2. I'm vibing in prayer. Maybe it sounds silly but meditating/prayer is really fruitful for me, I can spend a really long time sitting in silence and just praying/transcending this mortal plane.

crocus— do you have any significant dreams that you remember? what were they about?

Oooh- I hoped someone would ask me this one! I have had low-key prophetic dreams before like not super often but still! I've had dreams that have like literally played out the next day and I've had dreams that have told me something that I needed to hear. Most recently, I had a dream of my best friend telling me something that when I woke up made complete sense and re-framed something pretty difficult that happened a few hours after I woke up. (Also, the story 'From Eden' came from a dream.)

zinnia— would you say you think more with your head or with your heart?

Definitely my heart. I don't know if you're familiar with Meyers-Briggs but I am 100% "Feeling" on that test. The person who proctored it told me she'd never seen anyone score 100% on anything before that. haha! It's gotten me into a little bit of trouble on occasion but I like that about me.

Thanks again for the kind ask and letting me answer questions about myself! Feel free to send me more flower asks! 💐

[thebourbontruth]

Whiskey of the year 2022 Part 1

My top 3 favorite finalists for 2022

If you don’t want to read my commentary or Best of lists, skip a few paragraphs to the heading: “My favorite American Whiskeys of 2022”.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it lots more, Best Whiskey lists have become like grains of sand and more or less “suggestions”. If you really like or trust someone, especially if they are some sort of globally accepted authority then maybe go with it, but always with this grain of sand. Now with hundreds (I’d not thousands of self professed or implied “experts”) my issue has always been that a “Best Whiskey list” is dependent on:

1. The geek having a clue.

2. The geek having no ulterior motive/s.

3. The geek not being on the utter, payroll, or beholden in someway to those on their list or at least those high on it.

4. The geek gets or takes nothing of value from the very brands they have/are rating/reviewing/commenting on.

5. How they accessed the sample they are reviewing/rating?

6. Did/do mortals and muggles have easy msrp access to the stuff still or at least when sampled?

If it was tried on some sort of free junket or given to them as a brand sample this can influence the decision. If it’s a free provided brand sample this could influence the decision or even a rigged sample that is especially good. So basically beware of a flawed system. Similar in many ways to how competitions are flawed. One popular Whiskey Geek that makes a living on tasting provided and free stuff now has a Top 100 list. WTF I say! If you don’t know why a top 100 list isn’t ridiculous already, you might want to stick to beer or White Zin. Bottom line is no one is trying even a fraction of the available Bourbons and Rye for a true.y comprehensive and meaningful “Best of” pick to make it very relevant in any case. Even then, it’s subjective and subject to my 1-6 list above. With that said, I attempt to take a whack in 2023 to my favorite American Whiskies of 2022.

My Favorite American Whiskeys of 2022- in no particular order

I very rarely take free samples from brands. When I do I try and reciprocate in someway to even things out. And yes, through relationships I still sip a thing or two that slips through the cracks but I try my hardest to be honest to the Bourbon Truth. Unlike many people getting/taking free samples, I’m not afraid or fearful that a negative review will

• Piss off the brand

• Hurt the possibility of getting other samples from the brand

• Refusal of the brand to advertise

• Provide interviewees or guests to the blog, podcast, etc doing the review/rating.

Whiskey popularity in 2022 builds on the same rampant confusion and viral nature of American Whiskey appreciation as a lifestyle, hobby, or serious interest. I’ll go to a store, bar, friends home, my basement with hundreds of open bottles and I find myself being drawn back to the whiskey equivalent to your favorite comfy slippers, coat, rusting dented frying pan or whatever. To me that bottle is movie equivalent like “Shawshank”, “Holy Grail”, “Dumb and Dumber (of course), or a dozen movies that rewatching hundreds of times and never get old. We take for granted the great bottles always available practically everywhere in the USA, even on a plane at 30,000 feet. You always know what your going to get and it’s ALWAYS going to be good to great. It’s going to be a great value and a ton of time and effort has gone into that bottle to make and keep it really good.

My 3 favorite everyday sippers in 2022

MAKERS MARK

This stuff has been around since 1958! 65ish years! Wheated Bourbon that many consider to be a close clone to the original Stitzel Weller/Van Winkle family process and recipe. A respectable 90 proof. Maybe even the SW yeast if you study up on the history. Yes, a bit thin at times and admittedly about 4-6 years short of greatness, I’m drawn to it when I want a good value pour without much mystery. The consistency over my drinking lifetime is amazing. My favorite go to for a free pour in several post pandemic trips to Las Vegas in 2022. Maker’s is a welcome friend and always a very nice pour. While the masses are going crazy over the usually spotty quality, often tainted all things Weller for its “Wheated’ ess”, Maker’s is my subtle winner 7 days a week for Wheated Bourbon.

WOODFORD RESERVE

1996, 26 years the good old Woodford Reserve is derived from the standard Brown Forman Old Forester Bourbon Mashbill of 72% corn, 18% Rye, and 10% malted barley. A slightly altered version of the Old Forester Yeast. Lincoln Henderson, Chris Morris, now Elisabeth McCall have kept this on a consistently great path for a long time. Again, great value, always on the shelf and you know you’ll get the same flavor year after year. Sweat Nilla wafer, Maple syrup, Chocolate, with just the right amount of woodiness. A little spicer than a wheated Bourbon so add cinnamon, floral, allspice notes, 90.4 proof that holds up well to a big cube or ice ball (never use small cubes in a whiskey you don’t want over diluted).

ELIJAH CRAIG SMALL BATCH

Used to be 12 years old with an age statement. Now thought to be 8-10 year average without an age statement. 78% Corn, 10% Rye, 12% Malted Barley. This one will be sweeter due to 78% corn. The longer aging is what really shines through on this one. Like the other two above, this is a long time recipe that draws much of its superior complexity from its longer aging. I hope that the suits at Heavenhill draw the line on 8 year being the youngest that goes into this standard Elijah Craig. It will seriously lose its mojo younger. This would wreck my love for the brand. At $25-$35 a bottle and 94 proof I haven’t come across a better accessible Bourbon at such a reasonable price. Since 1986 the original Bourbon standard Bourbon Mashbill has endured. Over 30 years it’s been a safe bet.

Put Woodford, Maker’s, or Elijah against things twice+ as expensive and much harder to come-by. In blind tastings you’ll see why I’m giving credit where credit is due to these solid, safe, accessible favorite everyday bottles for 2022. See my favorite #1 pick whiskey for 2022 in my next post.

[orangeswithsquirrelfaces]

★Intro Post!!★

Salutations! Nice to see ya stopping by, why don’t ya grab a cup of tea and ignore the glitter sticking to every surface of this blog? Nobody knows where it came from. It’s probably maybe not radioactive or a biohazard.

Some important snippets that really nail down what who you’re witnessing:

I go by any pronouns, and my preferred name(s) are Meorey, Sunny, Lumen, and Rowan.

I have an art blog!! The URL is sunnysk3tches

I am genderfluid and aroaceflux, emphasis on the aroace part

I am a creative in many different ways, including visual art, writing, and crafting in many of its forms. I’m always looking for new ways to express that creativity!

I am relatively unhinged (no longer attached to the doorframe) and generally pretty cheeky. I don’t take myself too seriously, though I will respect you :]

I am an absolute nerd and know too much about too many topics for my own good

I am a safe person for all trans, queer, and otherwise not cishet individuals! Share your fun neopronouns with me!! :>

I am, to put it lightly, eccentric. I may go on long rambles, share my absurd sense of humor, flit from topic to topic like an over caffeinated moth, or use excessive metaphors and similes in speech though if you have trouble with those do ask for clarification! I won’t mind :)

I am a therian with a few notable theriotypes. Those include cat, moth, crow, and arctic fox.

Hmm, hmm, what now what now.. I suppose a list of things I adore?

★ Shows: Bob’s Burgers, The Good Place, Gravity Falls, Steven Universe, Carmilla, The Great British Baking Show, and a lot more honestly

★ Video Games: Portal, Inscription, Pressure, Subnautica, Minecraft, The Sims 4, Hades, Dialtown, The Stanley Parable, etcetera etcetera

★ Podcasts: 99% Invisible, Welcome to Night Vale, What Roman Mars Can Learn About Con Law, The Magnus Archives, and more I can’t remember right now

★ Books & Series’: The Skyward Trilogy (and counting? By Brandon Sanderson), The Toby Daye Series (Seanan McGuire), The Sabriel series (Garth Nix), The Manual Of The Planes (D&D book), and probably some I'm forgetting

★ Artists: Will Wood, Lemon Demon, OR30, Halsey, Lindsay Sterling, The Crane Wives, Rabbitology, Fletcher, Penelope Scott, Glass Animals, Jhariah, Marina And The Diamonds, Girl in Red, The Living Tombstone, Poppy, and many, many more honestly I listen to too much music

★ Miscellaneous: (Any unique artistic style such as ascii, hyperpop, found object, etc), (random shiny lights for I am a moth at heart and own many, too many for my own good), (creative and delicious drinks like boba tea, those interesting sodas where you pop down the lid, and any odd flavor of fanta), (anything outdoorsy or nature related, many have described me as having a strong connection with nature and I couldn’t agree more), (collecting random shiny trinkets like a crow)

And now, it is time for you to witness my coveted userbox hoard!

Oh, and important generic DNI to zoos, pedos, TERFs, and proshippers

To everyone else, welcome to my radioactive vessel for glitter and sleep deprivation! Have fun taking mass amounts of psychic damage!

Feel free to send asks, like posts, reblog, or interact with this post in any sfw way!! I’m not a stickler on how you enjoy my blog, if you ever do :)

!!This mortal vessel is subject to change!!

[the-rawry-files]

Kill me before you go

I'd like to cut the string with no repercussions.

As if to stop feeling for just five minutes.

But alas, I cannot free myself from the mortal plane of inconsistency and despair,

for when I try, all I hear are the screams of terror,

from those who fear me,

and share the vessel I'm bound to.

"You've forgotten what it's like to be truly happy."

A depressing claim in itself, but doused in truth none the less.

I've come to terms with the fact,

that I am indeed on everyone else's time but my own.

My clock ticks faster, running with haste as

our, not just mine, time comes to fruition.

I'm tired,

I'm ready to go,

but the knives are dull,

the ammo is gone,

and the pills suffice no more.

i hope one day i finally make my escape all that's left of me will be forgotten be sides my word.

I've waited a personal eternity to feel less alone,

when in reality, the issue is I'm never alone.

Id love to have a family to call my own one day,

someone to hold and hang onto, someone to hold,

someone to call mine and mine alone.

This being said, no one stays.

not even those who are trapped along side me.

whether due to the weather or the changing of tides,

no one is destined to stay by my side.

When you sense this plea, kill me first, and strip me clean of my fleeting dignity.

-Aurora Margaret (2024)

[minority-hunter-zoro]

Ima post poetry from an anthology I made for a class last year :))

Random Thoughts and Celestial Beings

By Minority Hunter Zoro

I

1.Society made me do it

2.Routine

3.You're Not My Lobster

II

1.Sea of Clouds

2.Image Training With a Sunset

3.Planet I

4.The Stars Pirouette

5.Sun

6.Moon

_________________________________________

I

Society Made Me Do it

A firm grasp 

on the leashes strangling my desires.

These chains are not mine,

They were supposed to be a gift.

They were supposed to be agency

They were supposed to be control.

A product of my environment,

The son of all I've done

These chains are not mine

yet they fuse with my skin from the tightness of my grip.

I choke hunger,

for gluttony is a sin.

I choke lust,

for libidinousness is a sin.

I choke aspiration,

for I must be limited to their set reality.

I choke expression,

for straying out of line means death.

I choke all of me,

for living free yet without excess

is more arduous than attempting to bring life into death. 

I'd rather choke on the limitations set by those above me,

Then let anyone see what the chains hold back.

_________________________________________

Routine

I lay down in the bed I set for myself.

Teeth brushed? Check.

Weighted blanket? Check.

Hair Wrapped? Check.

The fresh minty breeze cools every breath, the cool air fills my lungs,

and I feel the warmth leave my body for an instant, as close to death as my lungs will go,

nothing like the coldness of the earth.

The weight on my body squeezes me from it, it’s almost like I could escape,

crawl out of my fleshy prison.

The silk cap on my head keeps what my hair needs inside for the night,

my skull keeps my consciousness down in this mortal plane .

It doesn’t matter how close I can get to death,

I think.

Nothing can beat the original.

_________________________________________

You're Not My Lobster

When lobsters mate,

It's for life.

How sad that must be,

To be a stranger to change.

A rather exciting thing,

Change is.

You think you're safe,

From it?

You think you can,

Settle down?

Will God sit there,

and allow you?

Who are you?

To be so audacious?

Who are you?

To ask for as much as peace?

_________________________________________

II

Sea of Clouds

How can I drown here?

The sea is calm at rest.

It is my being,

not my breath that will drown out.

How can I not be still?

_________________________________________

Image Training With a Sunset

The sun waves excitedly from the safety of the horizon

as it begins to epitomize beauty, color, warmth, life.

But I am not looking at the scenery, for all I see is you.

I see you garnished by the cherry blossom leaves, spreading their sweet fragrance.

I smell you in the warm spring breeze.

However you are not here, at least not yet.

The papers blowing whichever way the wind commands feels more reflective than any mirror as I am forced to confront the reality of myself once more. Painfully aware of my existence in this instance, I look for anything to pull me back into the dark unconsciousness of passivity. How hard can it be to abandon autonomy with so little in your control?

I close my eyes when suddenly, a warm light shines on them, illuminating their darkness to reveal a golden brown that even I forgot existed. Red, orange and purple dance in the sky as the sun performs one last miracle. The colors tug at my heart, begging for one last wish as an unfamiliar sensation fills my chest. I feel myself letting go but this time not of my awareness of the self, but that of the world. A remnant of desire?

Allowing myself to return to the innocence, I dare to dream again. I dream of endless forests complimenting the hills it stands on. I see the sun's rays covering every living thing in a holy aura as life itself is celebrated with every crisp breath I take. My body is deemed my temple and me the god it is devoted to.

_________________________________________

Planet I

I wish to know what lies in these depths.

How is it possible to get lost

Searching for the center of this world?

No matter how many layers I break through,

No matter how straight a direction,

I always end up anywhere but deeper.

Unknowingly I dance around the crust.

Ignorantly I pass the mantle by.

I'm never able to go deeper.

Those who have found their way to this planet,

Those who have entered its depths,

They were welcomed here.

They all sink to the core.

They remove my layers one by one as I unravel before them.

Their warmth protects them from the lack within my depths.

I crumble in front of them, begging them to tell me what they saw,

Wondering why the very ground that stiffens before me,

Swallows them so hungrily.

I wish to know what lies in these depths.

_________________________________________

The Stars Pirouette

The sun's warm rays penetrate my skin, the melanin gleefully accepting the

warmth from space. As big and powerful and full of energy the sun is, all it took was a

cool breeze and the shade of the clouds to plunge my senses back into the reality of

winter, the warmth heading north with the wind. Yet still through the ever so slightly

gray sky, the sun can still be seen, turning every ball of air dirt and moisture into

nimbuses. It promises to return, it calls out to me like a shipwrecked lover being carried

away by the waves of the ocean, our distance only growing, and with that distance from

my sun winter ensues. When one finds a center, winter is inevitable.

Revolution never happens in circular motion: ellipse, entropy- these are the

natural states of being. If I wish to get close to what I revolve, to relive my summer days

hotter, brighter, more passionately than ever, must I endure a winter as equally intense,

and as cold and dark as we were warm and bright? Whether to rush into a summer of

everything I could ever want and have it torn from me again, or to merely admire from a

distance in a perpetual purgatory of my own creation. Even when winter comes, I won't regret my choice, right? I form worlds around the fiery passions which my fragmented pieces revolve, my hands and heart making the decision before my brain can state its case. I can ponder all I want, what I want to do is clear: I'll brave a thousand winters if it means just one more moment in the heat again. Summer was always worth it. Love is always worth it. You will always be worth it.

_________________________________________

Sun

The sun is rising with all its glory,

Day explodes wonderfully over the horizon.

It climbs over the moons corpse,

Its height a consequence of sacrifice.

No one ever blames the sun,

No one could blame it.

It holds the earth hostage,

with its monopoly on life.

Oh why, Mr. Sun, can I not choose?

Must you always shine so brightly?

I wish to rest, to stop marching.

How can I sleep with the sun in my eyes?

You give and give and give and give

So that no one sees you take.

You don't shine on us, oh Mr. Sun,

You blind us.

Only when you are away

Can I cease the charades

Only when you are away

Can night come

And with the moons resurrection

It's finally okay to do nothing.

_________________________________________

Moon

Hello moon, hello!

Oh how I have missed you!

What the sun has taken you can return!

Even. If only. For a short. Time.

Time. Time. Time. Time.

Time is what I've needed.

The sun takes sixteen hours from me

Sixteen hours blinded by the light.

But the moon, oh, the moon,

It wraps its wonder around me.

Ah yes, rest!

How could I forget such an important part of my life

Oh Moon, in your eerie light life needn't exist.

I needn’t exist.

The sun forces me to go, go, go, go,

But in your light everything is oh so so slow.

How happy I am,

To rest.

8 hours.

Is never enough.

It's.

never enough.

_________________________________________

Poets Comments

As the title of this collection says, the themes or categories of these poems are truly just divided into random thoughts and celestial beings. Looking at the poetry I've written and titled and considering what I would want to include and focus on, they just seemed to be the most prominent categories. There needn't be any more connecting the poems other than the origin of their inspiration I imagine, so I feel satisfied with that. A lot of the first section is reactionary to my intrusive thoughts and memories put into the structures provided in my class. The second section is the manifestation of whatever my brain has done with the stimuli of celestial beings like the sun and moon and things relating to the sky. It's mostly been me letting go and just using whatever prompt I've been given as a vessel for whatever tensions have weighed most heavily through the more celestial entity related imagery and the like. It's kind of my favorite section because It just feels more thematically consistent and my favorite poems like The Stars Pirouette are in it as well.