Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein
@deepcuts.blog
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Pulp scholar specializing in H. P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard. Author of SEX AND THE CTHULHU MYTHOS and WEIRD TALERS. Reader of dead people's letters. He/him. Blue checks happen to other people. https://deepcuts.blog
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"She is seven feet tall."

"Seven anna half."

"Four times your weight."

"Lot of that is tits."

"She could break you in half. What were you thinking!?"

"Ever look at a mountain an' get the sudden urge to climb it? Not to plant a flag, but 'cause it's there? She was my Everest. I'da died happy."
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"Three broken ribs, dehydration, major contusions on your face, bite marks on your neck and nipples—what HAVE you been doing?" the doctor said.

"H-helpin' Grilka get her groove back," Momo said, giving a small green thumbs-up. "I haven't been sacked like that since my days playin' Rollerball."
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"Why, to be sure," said Peter, seeming to recollect himself, "people have little, have very little in their power. Yet with any power comes some responsibility. But, my dear Gwen, what is the matter with Mary Jane?—she looks very unwell, has lost her colour, and is grown quite thin. Is she ill?"
misshavishambles.bsky.social
Jane Austen superhero manuscript discovered, looking forward to spidey sense and sensibility.
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(This is no shade on Jeff Vandermeer, who is a fine author and editor, we just have completely different ideas regarding weird fiction and I generally try to avoid him on social media.)
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I don't know why Bluesky is recommending I follow Jeff Vandermeer, but that is a perfect encapsulation of how borked the algorithms are.
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"Pool At Lobos"
by Clark Ashton Smith

Anemones yawn,
Shells walk, peaked and whorled,
In a still crystal world.
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They're not all pleasant letters, especially near the end. There's hurt and turmoil and dark thoughts.
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The goddess couldn't hear her prayer. A week of this pampering had softened her mind. Dulled the edge of her fanaticism. The little spoon pushed through the lips, hit her teeth. Poured the succubus essence into her mouth.

Before she could spit it out, her body absorbed it. The change was immediate.
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Andrew gulped. Back against the carpeted bedroom floor. Monique's hands slipped down to his knees as she bent them back toward his chest. Slow, inexorable strength.

"Been keeping up with your yoga?" she said as his ass raised off the ground. "Such a good boy. Let's see how flexible you are."
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The paladin sucked in her lips. They were swollen. Her tongue felt huge in her mouth. Teeth sharper than they had been a week ago.

A gold spoon with drops of black jelly was pressed against her mouth. If it had been pure silver, the succubus' hand would have burst into flame.

🎶"Here it comes."🎶
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Doing the same thing for "lovecraft" too. I think search is borked at the moment.
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Tales from the Crypt: Demon Knight
sophianyx.bsky.social
Name a Film with a Black Director.
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"New Fourplay"
"Even Newer Fourplay"
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One of my great regrets is that I can't really discuss Lord Dunsany's almost-contribution to the monsterfucker subgenre with anyone because very few people have read "Mrs. Jorkens" or its sequel.
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20.2: we squandered in everlasting squabbles over trivialities — they were not of my seeking; all I ever wanted was to be allowed to enjoy your company, and I always did, when you gave me any kind of a chance.

Your friend,
Bob
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20.1: Well, I didn’t intend to say any of the things I’ve said when I started out, but suddenly a flood of pent-up words broke over the dam when I remember all the futile, wasted hours we could have spent in pleasant association and enjoyable companionship, and which, instead,
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19: You must be totally incapable of the slightest sensation of human sympathy.

Howard could be cutting when he felt hurt or wronged.
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18: Knowing as you did, that I was half frantic already with strain and worry and a load of trouble I can hardly carry, still you did not spare me; you never showed me any kindness or consideration, but it looks like you could have let up on your eternal fault-finding for that one hour, at least.