cunctafluunt
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This is the origin of the Lambs: Having lost the flesh of her flesh, Yngya mourned. The Cold Mother wept and the Mountain wept with her, and all the land was blanketed with her tears, which froze and were as snow.
A brief writing exercise based on the prose style of the Old Testament.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,212
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 10
- Hits:
- 49
Recent bookmarks
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You wake up. You think it's a nightmare. But a text from your sister -- from Jasprose -- makes you realize this is all too real.
Your name was DAVEPETASPRITE^2.
Your head is horribly, horribly empty.
The date is April 13th, 2009.
How do you cope?
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 26,312
- Chapters:
- 10/?
- Collections:
- 2
- Comments:
- 491
- Kudos:
- 1,283
- Bookmarks:
- 303
- Hits:
- 20,231
Bookmarked by cunctafluunt
10 Feb 2026
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Summary
In the deepest matters of the Bazaar, always look to love.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,302
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 11
- Kudos:
- 116
- Bookmarks:
- 24
- Hits:
- 980
Bookmarked by cunctafluunt
16 Jan 2026
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Summary
Nothing ever changes in the Neath. The courtiers court ears, the pickpockets pick pockets, and the everlasting night lasts on.
You came to the Neath to chase secrets and adventures, discover new ways of being.
But you are no longer the lovely girl who sailed across the Atlantic in search of mystery. You are not lovely anymore — entrancing, perhaps, or hypnotic. Fascinating might be an appropriate term. And you are not a girl anymore. Not really. Or not always, perhaps.
Series
- Part 1 of our coming of age has come and gone
Bookmarked by cunctafluunt
23 Jun 2020
Bookmarker's Notes
this is one of the best fl fics i've ever read! the pure vibes the atmosphere the character... the contrasts between the neath and the surface even though the more different they seem the more they stay the same..... i would rec this fic to people who haven't even played fl!!!!! duuude... the style of this fic, the clarity of the prose... it flows so well
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Why one small American town won’t stop stoning its residents to death by Charlotte_Stant for sophiahelix
Fandoms: The Lottery - Shirley Jackson, The New Yorker RPF
24 Dec 2025
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Summary
The picturesque village of Buell, Maine is one of the last in the United States to continue the tradition of the “harvest” or “prosperity” lottery. Its residents insist the lottery makes them stronger, even as condemnation from outsiders grows.
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Summary
The pain does not serve him, but he must carry it anyway.
The not-pain does not serve him, but at least the pain will not be so lonely.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 42,253
- Chapters:
- 20/20
- Comments:
- 543
- Kudos:
- 673
- Bookmarks:
- 198
- Hits:
- 14,420
Bookmarked by cunctafluunt
12 Jan 2026