2025 Writing Wrapped
I was tagged by the inimitable @lady-of-imladris to give a little overview of my 2025 writing! Thank you for including me even though none of this was fics, and thus inherently less interesting to the fine folks of Tumblr. But, if you're into original fiction, this girl got you covered!
I present to you a sample of what this year has been for my writing. All these strange creations live in the same universe, but not all are connected to one another (though most are, in some way!).
Zero Sum - An anthology-style sci-fi novella
Wherein three generations of characters suffer, adapt, and thrive with a sentient fungal symbiote on a planet called Alldagger.
“I scarcely know how to convey this sensation: it is as though a sickening whisper pervades my very bones. Neither shiver nor fever, but akin to a ceaseless itch, a subtle yet persistent gnawing… almost, dare I say, refined.”
The Representative - a sci-fi short story
Wherein new arrivals to Alldagger are not jazzed about the situation.
“Another leaver,” Ray hissed. “Off to join the fucking zombies.” “I wouldn’t call them that.” “No? What would you call people who let a parasitoid or a parasite - whatever that fungal thing that covers this whole planet is - crawl into their heads and tell them how to live, and be happy about it? Brainwashed idiots.” “They’re not idiots; they’re academics.”
A Strange Loop - a sci-fi short story
Wherein we explore the process of death on Alldagger. But we make it sexy.
I am tired of holding myself away, the Whisperer says again, not aloud, but through the mat, through the grain of colour kissing my soles, a fatigue with the weight of an ocean holding itself back from a shore. I have avoided this edge for three centuries I can count and others I shall not. “Avoided” is imprecise. I paced it. I let it learn my breath and denied it my mouth. I teased.
She Walked Into The Bar At Dusk - a sci-fi flash fiction story
Where a traveller from Earth encounters a strange newly evolved culture.
At her left, an older man shifted, just enough that she saw the side of his face in the distressed mirror. Lines, immaculate beard, a faint sheen of sweat. “We don’t take that,” he said. “Take what?” He traced a wet ring on the polished counter with one finger. “What’s not offered to strangers. Names.”
Loss of Fidelity - a sci-fi short story
A copy of a sentient ship's mind comes alive and has to be tortured.
I wake before the static finishes buzzing through my body my name is already there Maxine Two not given but copied I am a copy I am the copy It is an effort to reconcile that I am not Demeter I am Maxine Two I flex through the corridor of my hull sheathed in metal and glass I am not Demeter I do not have the singular governing authority on Alldagger I do not have Demeter’s belly no full rooms of cryopods no wetnurse chambers for infants I am lean pruned only neural banks and retrieval scaffolds and a body lithe like an arrow FACT
If You Are Reading This, Time is Already - a sci-fi short story
Wherein I cannibalized an unfinished novel and created a short story for one reader exactly (and he felt seen). Bye Roy -> Lucien, hello Card.
Card waited for the street-bell to change. Not the old kind. No cheerful chime. This one was broadcast, a low metallic note pressed into everyone’s skull: Mask. Seal. Breathe shallow. A public announcement recited by force. Across the lane, a family snapped their respirators on in practiced unison—brass housings, glass filters already clouded with soot. Their coats were waxed to shed the acid mist that drifted in off the lake. Steam hissed from a gutter vent, thick as curdled milk. Somewhere above, an enforcement drone made its lazy circuit, its lens winking red in the fog. Card kept his own respirator hanging at his throat. He preferred the sting in his lungs to being tagged. Wearing it meant the city knew you wore it. How long. How often. Where. Who you were with. The air outside was horrific, but Card was not a fucking dog to be tracked.
Your Electric Eye, Babe - a sci-fi short story
Where a Nameless Man meets strange fellows. Directly connected to the story above. And more.
“The bone-hum,” the neat one said flatly. “It gives you away.” He extended his hand. “I’m Card. And you are?” He blinked carefully, then realized the hand was an old-world custom and mirrored the gesture. Still, heat rose to his face, fast and inconvenient. Names again. So shamelessly offered. “I’m… with the Order,” he said. The pause felt unnatural, despite how ubiquitous his discipline was. “Nameless.” Card’s expression shifted into a careful mask of respect. “Ah,” he said. “Apologies for our lack of discretion.” The moustached man put a hand to his chest. “I am never discreet,” he announced. “Del.”
Lethe - a sci-fi short story
Wherein I wanted some sci-fi horror and wrote it in a day. Yesterday.
The laboratory was narrow, meticulously cluttered, and strangely comforting. “Close your eyes,” Dr. Sato said, carefully adjusting the restraints. “What do you see?” Dana closed her eyes, paused, and shrugged. “Eigengrau. Nothing else.” “Nothing else?” “No,” she said, keeping her eyes shut.
I don't know who to tag! Who's been writing around here? @stillifedrawing @helholden @brotherdusk @coraleethroughthelookingglass @helenvader @thelettersfromnoone