The Deep

It sings in melancholic trances The song of the deep Bubbling up from the darkness in a world robbed of light Unknown to most Deadly to all Bring me home to the depths so that I may know your song & steal from my lungs so that I may sing

-4/5/25

An Ode to Libraries

“Get thee to a Library”

In honor of National Library Week (April 6th-April 12th), I want to take a moment to tell you all that libraries are not only places to find books and movies. (Although, I’m not gonna downplay that. It’s so much free material and all you need to access it is a library card. That’s priceless in today’s economy).

You can find so many free resources at your local library. Almost all of them have access to computers and free public wi-fi. They offer cheap printing services and meeting rooms that anyone can book (be it small study groups or larger nonprofit events). They also have a multitude of online resources: from databases to help you with research projects to genealogy services to help you investigate family histories to sites that can provide learning and skills training to bump up your resume. There’s so much to offer and you don’t even need a library card to access all of it (but why not, right?).

Kaelía is Gētnyx’s chosen successor as Vessel, which causes some strife within the Temple when Kaelía kills Gētnyx, because she IS indisputably now the Vessel but she killed the previous one and and she’s only seventeen and wasn’t even godsworn yet when she did it and that’s… awkward. Especially when Kaelía starts saying things like “Gētnyx has gravely misused the image of Corysecli, and I am divinely chosen to right that wrong. As a Senki Temple we are not meant to be involved in mortal politics and I’m withdrawing the Temple’s support for this military dictatorship. Also I’m overhauling hundreds of years of tradition of how Initiates are trained and the duties of Initiates and Divine Soldiers. You all have to listen to me because I am the living avatar of the goddess you swore yourselves to. :)”

Ax Gleam

Dorothy is the one to realize that she has the parts her companions need.

She is a lonely girl in a new world, frightening even among all the wonder and color. A witch is hunting her for the silver slippers she earned from an accident she didn't mean it. Glinda is no help, just telling her to follow the yellow brick road to the Emerald City with no explanation of what she should do if she runs into danger. At least that command leads her to the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion. Joy fills her with each new companion. (She doesn't tell her new friends about the witch.)

The Scarecrow is loyal and so, so smart- imagine what he would do with an actual brain? The Tin Man is kind and for something that claims to be heartless, an actual heart would have to be bigger than normal for him. The Lion is passionate and brave when it matters, now he needs actual courage to back it up.

When they take a break for the night before reaching Emerald City, the Tin Man builds a fire. Dorothy sits in the Scarecrow's lap, serving as a shield from the deadly flames. The firelight catches the ax as Tin chops up wood, making the head gleam silver. Dorothy stares at it. (She's not sure why.)

It's when her pursuer is revealed and the task to kill the Witch of the West is set, when Scarecrow kneels in front of her and promises he's with her no matter what, Dorothy remembers the ax. (And how sharp it was.)

She waits until they stop for the night. Lion has taken Toto with him while he hunts for himself. The Scarecrow went with them to find some more firewood and, knowing him, some more food that isn't what Dorothy just has in her basket. Like before, the Tin Man is chopping wood for fire until he notices her stare. "Is everything alright, Dorothy?"

"I...um. Tin Man?" She taps her fingers and tries to put the suggestion to words. "I was just thinking...what if we didn't have to kill the Wicked Witch of the West?"

If he still could, he would clearly raise a brow. "What do you mean?" Dorothy, staring at the ax, reaches up. She traces her brow, on the skin stretched over her brain, before moving to her chest, feeling her heartbeat. The Tin Man stares at her before her silent message sinks in. "Wha- no. Absolutely not."

"It'll be easier."

"Dorothy Gale, you are fourteen years old. You have an entire life- you need to go home."

"This is a death mission." She snaps, lifting up a silver slipper covered foot as proof. "The Witch is going to keep trying to hurt you guys-"

"Dorothy-"

"-until I'm dead. And I'm not even sure-"

"Stop."

"She'll even stop at that-"

Hands clamp down on her shoulders.

"ENOUGH!"

Dorothy's teeth audibly click when she shuts her mouth. The Tin Man stares her down, eyes so, so sad. (That's she's gotten to this point.) "We are going to figure it out." he says. His grip on her loosens, instead turning into a soft rub to help with any bruises. "We always do. We always find a way. We've done it before." She can't even protest at that.

Because they have. All the way here, they've found ways.

Silently, she nods.

Satisfied, the Tin Man sits down next to her.

"...don't tell 'Crow?"

He stares at her. "Alright."

The trio returns soon after that. Lion boasts about how he fought off a huge vulture, Tin Man argues that claim and Scarecrow is rolling his eyes as he and Dorothy arrange themselves. "It was a butterfly and he hid behind me." he whispers in her ear. She giggles.

She ignores the gleam of the ax.

nine lines nine people

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea, thank you! nine from A Question of Trust today, since i’m about to shove my hands back into the guts of this thing and fix it so help me god-

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @sarandipitywrites @chauceryfairytales @rhikasa @ink-flavored @tabswrites @winterandwords @ceph-the-ghost-writer @artdecosupernova-writing and @charlesjosephwrites

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso @notwritinganyflufftoday (ask to be +/-)

Butcher Shop Snippet

Currently editing Bloodmood and oh my god I would hate to experience Harriet as a customer;

She found a butcher shop and walked in, and immediately asked the butcher “Can I buy some blood?”

With a customer service smile, she replied “No, we don’t sell blood.”

Harriet tried again; “I need some blood for a recipe today, could I buy some?”

“We can ask the abattoir if they could put some blood aside for the next delivery, but in general the carcasses are drained before we get them,”

Harriet pointed to the red pool of liquid at the bottom of a tray. “Can I have some of that?”

“Ah, that’s just proteins, not blood, it would not be good in a recipe.”

Myoglobin. Harriet had not tried giving her test subjects myoglobin before, but how different could myoglobin be from haemoglobin, really? One was a polypeptide for oxygen release within muscles while the other was four polypeptides in a network for oxygen storage and transportation, but both of them made a drink that a vampire was likely to enjoy, right?

“I’d like some of that please,” she said.

“…I don’t think it would be good for cooking,” said the butcher.

“Are you trying to avoid selling me something?”

“No, but in general the juice that comes off the meat isn’t something we can put a price on, and it’s not like I have a ladle for meat juice handy, so I would have to pick up the tray and carefully pour the juice into a bag, and, after that, you’re going to take it home and do something stupid with it and realise that it isn’t blood and it isn’t having the desired effect and it will be my fault for selling you not-blood when you asked for blood. Black pudding is extremely difficult to make unless you have fresh pig’s blood.”

“Okay… can I have the juiciest meats then?”

The butcher seemed relieved that they were steering the conversation from ‘dumb customer request’ to ‘reasonable customer request’. “Sure, what do you want?”

“I do not care, I just want some really juicy meat.”

Snippet Sunday 23/02

Have a little piece from the start of what I'm tentatively calling Nightjar WIP about a travelling cursebreaker, her wife and daughter, and the pantheon of gods she manages to inconvenience along the way.

CW for violence and body horror :)

~*~

It was a grim thing to look at, the creature that had once been a man, slavering as a sinister rumble built up in its throat. Nightjar ran her fingers along the glass bottles strapped to her bandolier, skimming the marks etched into the stoppers for the right concoction.

She had plenty of options to get the job done, but the first port of call was always 'Subdue and Reverse'.

All curses had a source, a tether that could be broken to free a bound soul, she just had to work out how. The easiest and simplest way was to take the gold edged sword from her back and separate the creature's head from its shoulders, but in doing so the Cursed would be lost, mind, body and soul, in their entirety.

The more complicated way was to decipher the symptoms of the curse, trace it back to its origins and sever the tether to reverse the curse.

This creature was animalistic, it prowled on four elongated limbs across the undergrowth, its eyes burning pits filled with a blue flame so hot it was almost white. Taking the third bottle from the bottom, she removed the stopper and poured a handful of small paper parcels into her palm. She whispered a short blessing and felt the parcels grow warm in her hand. Just as they started to smoke, she launched them at the creature, which howled as the smouldering pellets exploded with a series of loud cracks and bright flashes.

At first Nightjar was elated, but as the smoke cleared she could see that despite its vocal reaction, the pellets hadn't left a single mark, not even a singed hair. Swearing under her breath, Nightjar reached for the bottle two up from the previous one, and leaving the waxed stopper in place, whispered another prayer before throwing the entire thing clean across the clearing, the glass shattering against the creature's side with an acidic hiss. The air was suddenly filled with an acrid scent, and Nightjar pulled her bandanna up over her nose as she watched the creature's hide billow with rusty fumes.

The creature released an ear-splitting screech from behind its crooked, broken teeth, and from the rapidly melting hide another two gangling limbs burst forth, accompanied by the wet sound of sloughing flesh.

Swearing again, Nightjar scrabbled backwards and away, towards the treeline. The Fortis had worked better, which ruled out a White House curse, but while she could fairly safely guess at the Red House, there was something wrong the burning in its eyes. Serik's voice griped in the back of her mind, reprimanding her for changing too many variables at once, but in a life or death situation, as this was rapidly becoming, she was starting to question her Uncle's wisdom.

The creature scuttled towards her, faster but more unstable on its new limbs, and took an ungainly swipe at her. Nightjar rolled out of the way, wary of the bandolier of glass strapped across her front. Reaching down she fumbled for the bottle of blue salts by her hip, but the creature lunged again. Just as it was about to strike, there was a loud thunk and it staggered backwards. From her right, Nightjar heard a laughing voice call out to her.

"Humanoid with regenerating limbs, Nightjar? Green Vitriol! You know that!"

Grunting as she got to her feet, Nightjar turned to see a woman emerge from the shadow of the dense forest canopy, crossbow nestled against her shoulder.

"I didn't know it was regenerating until after I'd thrown the Fortis!" She shouted back. "Plus, the eyes are wrong!"

The woman released another bolt and cocked her head to the side as the beast stumbled again, its head whipping round to finally focus on its newest assailant.

"Huh," She began. "You're right. Blue is new."