Size / / /

Content warning:


normal god,,, pls let me trannier! glintier!! slipperier!!!

buffoon me into our leggiest flight suit . . . now

sic your physickers on our meat and see their mitres

bounce into the rafters! spitspangled i rise,

eyes a pulverized visor, glass forehead agape (three

syllables): i want to be full of bubbling chemicals.

thumb green, gormless green, mattress

commercial purple. give me 1 more life & i’m blind

open as cut venetians! fresh breaths the crescent grip

of a bow i’ve got both shoulders somehow stuck in.

arrows totter from my ass like pillowdown. i waddle

fallow to the mud, i wallow, alive!!

take that to the bank; suck me all the way

up the tube and settle my complaints. 3 pennies tinkle,

grinning on the tray but don’t sully you, leave them!

leave them, god. i'd feel awful if i knew i'd made you change.

i will lose for us both: I'm growing,

so treat me early. LET ME LIVE. SHOOT ME

INTO SPACE



Like any good great terrible wyrm, Palimrya loves you, which is why she spent seven drops of her precious twiceblood to grant you each an arrow-melty mantle, a full belly, and a wet green biome to bleed in. Find her stories, poems, and roleplaying games on your bathroom floor, and feed her furnace @palimrya on twitter.
Current Issue
18 May 2026

Maybe we overestimated ourselves, I thought, watching the ferries hum against the wine-dark sea. Even if we floated above it, we were still bound to the ocean, engulfed in all its weight and inescapable history. To believe otherwise was a kind of hubris. But we had believed otherwise anyway, and so each of us had become something smaller, less human, suspended in a brittle net of want and memory. And then she appeared. At the wrong time, in the wrong place. My Scylla, my monstress, my deathless siren of anglerfish light. Longing, in that empty, unmoving ocean, for things that had not existed for centuries. How could anyone blame her? The only alternative was to grieve. 
My grandmother slit my father’s bones and let them fly with yeast.
the nightingale was caught in a net / and brought to a lab for further study.
Wednesday: Loss Protocol by Paul McAuley 
Friday: The Midnight Shift by Cheon Seon-Ran, translated by Gene Png 
Issue 11 May 2026
Issue 4 May 2026
Issue 20 Apr 2026
By: Athar Fikry
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
Issue 13 Apr 2026
Issue 6 Apr 2026
Issue 30 Mar 2026
Issue 23 Mar 2026
Issue 16 Mar 2026
Issue 9 Mar 2026
By: Lio Abendan
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
Strange Horizons
2 Mar 2026
Strange Horizons invites non-fiction submissions for our March 30 special issue on “Fungi in SFF.”
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