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four poems by archy by CenozoicSynapsid for merellia
Fandoms: Archy and Mehitabel - Don Marquis
29 Nov 2021
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Summary
in fact i did recently
come across a poet s
soul in the body of a
silverfish he was picking
out the words of his latest
composition by biting them
out of a disused
encyclopedia- Language:
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- 1,446
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Bookmarked by eileenlufkin
13 Mar 2024
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The Girl Who Failed by CenozoicSynapsid for raspberryhunter
Fandoms: The Instrumentality of Mankind - Cordwainer Smith
18 Dec 2019
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The expedition succeeded: on that, all the witnesses agree. Even Lady Mmona, who warned so direly at the outset. Even Lord Jestocost, who was personally responsible for the cleanup...
“It went wrong,” said the girl Santuna at the inquest. “And it was my fault it went wrong. If that was a success, I want no more successes.”
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- English
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- 5,702
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Bookmarked by eileenlufkin
13 Mar 2024
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Bookmarker's Notes
"This is maybe a "what if Cordwainer Smith took acid and thought about intersectionality" AU."
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Genesis, Revised and Expanded by CenozoicSynapsid for psychodive
Fandoms: The Mysterious Stranger - Mark Twain
24 Nov 2022
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"I was there for that ‘Let there be light’, and I tell you, there was ten million of us angels out there to gather it up, and not a steamer or a donkey-engine to haul it with, neither. I could write a whole book of the Bible about the hauling and the digging behind those ‘Let there be’s. For ten cents I would write one. That world of yours took us a solid week of work without so much as a dinner-break."
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BERNARD: I think everyone imagines going to their own funeral, at some point. Wandering among the mourners, listening to what they say about you. And in a sense, everyone does. We bring them with us, different versions of them. Lovers, colleagues, rivals.
- Language:
- English
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- 3,134
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Bookmarked by eileenlufkin
12 Mar 2024
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A collection of fragments from Angharad Scott’s research and correspondence. In which another, less familiar, world is revealed, and stories are told.
I have stood in the shadows of the lamassu. I have explored a Palace of unending rooms, utterly silent beyond the rushing of waters below and the caw of birds above. Your stories are true — and more than that, they are only a fraction of the stories that can be told.