#short sff

[lastinnett-writer]

Here’s your daily dose of cozy fantasy short fiction to warm your day.


In the dimly lit bedroom Jason snuggled next to Marie, watching dawn overtake the city skyline. 
“I wanted to spend my last Earth sunrise with you,” he said. 
“I’m going to miss you while you’re on Mars,” said Marie. 
Jason got up and dug through his pack, pulling out a sheet of plastic stars before standing on the bed.
He placed one on the ceiling and laid beside her. 
“Whenever you gaze up and see that star, know it’s me looking down and watching over you.”

[shawwillsuffice]

For no particular reason, here's the short story I wrote about being a trans teen with a shitty dad who worships Elon Musk.

[eunuchmoder]

Girl who is imperceptible, uncanny, strange.

Her face disappears when you look at it, distorting into a blur of unfamiliar memories. Her motions make no sense, moving in directions you can't name. She speaks in words you maybe understand, possibly. You think you do, at least.

When you are with her, the frenzied blur of sex and body fluid says all that you both need to hear. but every moment prior and afterwards, she becomes that foggy humanoid presence that you can't parse even if your life depended on it.

She weaves her way into your mind; you remember why you were drawn to her (or why she was drawn to you), but you can't fetch the memory even if you tried. You have a vague memory of her smiling, or laughing, or making intoxicating sounds when your skin connected, and you know it was something you did that invoked this reaction. When you try to recall what you did, though, all you can see in your mind's eye is noise and turbulence.

See, humans are pattern seekers by evolutionary design, so every time you perform an action to her, you add the accompanying reaction to your mental map of her. But the pages of said map are soaked in coffee and bile, tearing to shreds each time you put your pen to it. You try to read it back, tracing your fingers across the same routes and landmarks, but you end in a different location every time, even if all variables are accounted for. Every attempt at navigating her unearthly self is futile and not without a massive margin of error.

Moments of clarity shine through, though, during sex – oases of respite in a desert of unfamiliarity. You see her face, smiling and contorting in pleasure. You feel her heart rate increase in direct correlation. Her hair is unusually soft – you aren't sure if you want to pull it and hear her whine and grunt, or if you want to run your fingers through it gently to really commit that physical sensation to memory. Her eyes, so emotive, speak grand poems in conjunction with her eyelids. You can hear her voice telling you to "keep going," pleading you to continue "just like that," and begging to reach climax. Through the overwhelming storm that is the connection of your flesh (you can feel her flesh for the first time in a while), you can enumerate every single vibration of her vocal cords and what it all means. It's understandable and crystal clear, even if for just an hour or two.

Afterwards, she silently retreats back into the glamer, obscuring every facet of her being and her influence once more.

You ask how it felt.

She replies ████████████, in a voice that is not just flat and devoid of emotion, but somehow entirely lacks tone to begin with.

You ask her if she needs a glass of water or a towel, maybe a shower. She gently coos at you, with a raspy emotion that feels like grit and silk, ◌̶̹̿⃤̶̰̌◷̴̲̒◌̴̞̇⃟̷̫̋

Once again, you can't scrutinise what she's saying anymore. She becomes a formless mass without weight or gravity. Did you do it right? Is she comfortable? Are you impeding on her presence by sharing the same blanket? The infinite questions burn a hole in your chest like white-hot coals placed onto a slab of ice.

There's an allure to her, of course, and you remember it clearly.

But the glamer begins to alter your own memory.

When she came into your life, did you read her face right? Did she even have a face to read? Did you remember that night clearly? Do you remember it at all?

Her otherworldly influence jabs at you, taunting you.

Or maybe it's just you taunting yourself.

It's impossible to tell. She melts your memory, synapse by synapse. You genuinely cannot remember anything about her without it being laid under a dense veneer of suspicion.

Most frustratingly of all, she gets along great with every other one of those formless, nameless humanoid presences that you know... Though you can't remember if those other "people" you see were always like this—like her—or if she's tainted your psyche to the point that everyone becomes unreadable.

Your own face is the only thing you're sure of anymore. But even still, you begin to worry if the expressions you consciously assume are the ones that the formless presences around you are expecting you to make in response to their dim gurgling and sweaty blinks. It's torture. You begin to move your focus from them to yourself. You manually emote so that you don't accidentally smile when you should frown. You watch every syllable that collapses over your lips to make sure they don't misconstrue your joy for entitlement. It's all in vain, though, because you never get a chance to verify if this output is correct. She stares at every part of you at once with an impossible number of eyes. You can't tell what the eyes say in return.

She is eldritch. She is dreamlike. She is unknowable, preternatural, and vague. The fact that you cannot understand a single aspect of her form is stressful.

But the sex was good. I wonder if she's free any time soon? Maybe I should just ask if she could use tone indicators next time.

[sophia-sol]

Every year at about this time (...very approximately) I post a reclist of 10 short stories I particularly enjoyed reading in the last year, all of which can be read online for free. Here's the latest list, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

1. Sestu Hunts the Last Deer in Heaven - MH Cheung Beautiful and odd. A story of what happens after you've killed the gods, the unexpected realities and the things you have to live with. I love stories about after the climactic things traditional fantasy narratives are about, and this one excels!

2. If You Find Yourself Speaking to God, Address God with the Informal You - John Chu Two butch Asian weightlifter dudes bonding with each other and then dating, and one of them happens to have superpowers, but the superpowers aren't the focus. This is SO charming!!

3. Two Hands, Wrapped in Gold - SB Divya This is a really cool retelling of the classic fairy tale Rumpelstiltskin from the Rumpelstiltskin character's pov, building out the world and his background and making him a sympathetic character with a specific history. Haven't seen a fairy tale retelling quite like this before and it's great! And I say that as a connoisseur of fairy tale retellings.

4. A Farce to Suit the New Girl - Rebecca Fraimow A troupe of Jewish actors in Russia, in a time of political upheaval. This story has such a good and powerful feeling of activity and forward momentum, and of the way a community supports people even if things are weird or complicated! I love every single character and how firmly they are themselves.

5. Sheri, At This Very Moment - Bianca Sayan The sacrifices you make to spend time with the ones you love - a snapshot of one brief visit together, out of two lives that only rarely get to align. Made me teary the first time I read it!

6. Spirochete - Anneke Schwob An engaging second-person pov story about possession and identity. It has such a great sense of timing! And the last line GOT me even on second read when I hypothetically knew what was coming!

7. To Embody a Wildfire Starting - Iona Datt Sharma Ahhhhhh this story is so good at embodying the horrible complexities of the choices people make in the worst of situations, that good and bad and divine and evil and just plain personness can all reside in one being. Also it's about a dragon society and the revolutionary humans who tried to make everyone into dragons, and also about parent-child relationships, and also about a bunch of other things. God it's good.

8. Obsolesce - Nadine Aurora Tabing Is it really me if I don't have at least ONE story about robots in my rec lists? (actually I just went back and checked and in multiple previous years I inexplicably didn't, maybe it wasn't me writing the reclist in those years lol) ANYWAY who wants to have sad feelings about robots again! I know I always do! In a world where anyone who has a physical body instead of having their consciousness transferred is more and more obsolete, no matter if your body is human or robot, what do you hold onto? This one has a real good melancholy tone.

9. Letters from a Travelling Man - WJ Tattersdill ....does what it says on the tin. Letters to a dear friend, from a man travelling for the first time to the unfamiliar part of the world that friend comes from. I love the sense of place you get from the letters, as well as the deep and abiding importance of this friendship in both their lives. Another one I cried over!

10. Texts from the Ghost War - Alex Yuschik Another epistolary one, but this time in text messages instead of letters, and between characters who start the story antagonistically! About mech pilots in a ghost war, and making connections, and finding things to care about, even when stuff sucks. I love them!! (also, I am inescapably me, whoops, it took me until I read some fanfic of this story to realize that almost certainly the story was meant to be canonically shipping the two leads, I never notice romance unless there's anvil-sized indications.) Anyway this is a really good story!

[girl-and-her-cat]

Chapter One: Extended Contracts

The probe was dead.

I knew it the moment I lay eyes on the thing. And no, it wasn’t because of the layer of icy crust surrounding the shaft nor did it have anything to do with user error. I knew it the moment they told me what the issue was. The probe had been running non-stop for four months in a freezing cold vacuum. AKA; space. And they were using a standard run-of-the-mill type-13. No way could that handle a four month operating time with no breaks.

Dumbasses.

The two techs that had brought me out here were arguing through their helmets on the main channel; I could hear everything from the saliva smacking against their lips to their stuffed up noses they wouldn’t stop snorting through as if that would help them breathe any better.

Just use a goddamn tissue.

“What’s the application?” I asked again. I knew what it was, I just wanted them to stop barking at each other. The techs got nervous when I came up here. At first I thought it was because my job was to report back to HQ and let them know if the tech’s were doing their jobs; RJ told me it’s because I’m a woman.

One tech, the one that only had one front tooth and was clearly the follower of the other guy responded after snorting mucus down his throat. “Temp and pressure of the atmosphere surrounding the pipes. Gotta know how much they can handle before being blown to shit.”

He looked at his bro for approval and smirked at me after receiving a nod.

“Can you tell us what the problem is so we can get back down? Boss don’t like us being up here too long wasting oxygen.” Leader boy said this nonchalantly but I knew who his boss was and also knew that a guy had been fired last week for using more than the mediated level of oxygen for a site run like this one. Found out he had brought his girl up for some “sight seeing”.

Fucking idiot.

“It’s dead. You’ll need to get a new one. A Type- 15 to be exact if you want it to run longer than 4 months out here.”

Read More Here

[essektheylyss]

I have decided that I need to be more in the habit of reading weird fiction, and I have from now until the end of September without classes, so I've endeavored to read one piece of short speculative fiction available in lit mags online everyday until then.

In an effort to actually maintain that, and also because authors and lit mags are frequently the only ones promoting their own works and we should change that, I'm going to post them here, probably without additional commentary or I'll get overwhelmed and stop doing it. There will likely be no rhyme or reason to what the vibes are, because I plan to open a lit mag and read the first thing that catches my eye instead of trying to figure out which ones are actually my speed. This is an effort to read a lot of different stuff, after all.

If you want to read along, I'll post these under the tag "#sff shorts with megs"!

Here's the first:

[malcolmschmitz]

Hi, friends-- I've got a cover for my new SFF short story!

It's about dwarves who mine asteroids in the ruins of a portal fantasy world. (Oh, and it's transmasc as all heck.)

I'll reveal it for everyone else on Thursday-- but my Patreon patrons get to see it first. >:)

[lilareviewsbooks]

Short SFF Books!

I know getting into SFF can be difficult because of the sheer size of series and books in the genres. So here’s a couple of speculative fiction picks that don’t require that much time to read :)

I’ve also made a part two for this, so check that out if you’d like some more short SFF!

This Is How You Lose The Time War, by Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone

209 pages

sapphic rep

standalone

This one is a classic when it comes to short sci-fis (thank you, Bigolas Dickolas), and that’s definitely for a reason! This Is How You Lose The Time War is a story in an incredibly unique format that will, to be honest, probably emotionally devastate you in some way or another. 

Time War follows Red and Blue, two agents working for opposite sides of, you know it, a time war. Their job is to travel through time to change the odds for their respective “agencies”. But, of course, they can’t resist leaving each other messages along in the way - in the most unique manners possible.

This queer novella will take your breath away. It will lead you through multiple timelines, split into two perspectives, Red and Blue, with a beautiful, lyrical writing style, which will make you so invested in our two main characters. The author duo treats us to these fantastical, vivid settings, which are sparkling with potencial and leave you wanting to dive deeper.

Silver In The Wood, by Emily Tesh

112 pages

achillean rep

duology

This is part of the Greenhollow Duology, but can absolutely be read as a standalone. It’s also one of my all time favorites! Silver In The Wood follows Tobias, a groundskeeper who lives deep in the woods. When Henry Silver moves into the house Tobias watches, things change - there’s something in the woods, and Tobias might just have to introduce Henry to it. 

It’s been a while since I read this, but I haven’t forgotten about it. I’m always thinking about this book. The vibes are simply immaculate, and so cozy. It will literally make you feel like you’re in the woods. The character work is excellent, and focuses on older protagonists, which is always a treat. The romance is well-constructed and the second book is completely optional, taking place almost as a side-quest for the main couple. 

I wish there were so many more of these, but unfortunately there are only two. But damn, are they great! Highly recommend, Silver In The Wood and its sequel, Drowned Country!

The Singing Hills Cycle, by Nghi Vo

100 to 128 pages 

non-binary and sapphic rep

series

The Singing Hills Cycle is a good one to recommend, because it’s very low-commitment. You can pick whichever one of the three books (there’s soon to be a fourth!!) draws your interest, you can start with that one, and then go from there. The series follows Chih, a wandering cleric, from the Wandering Hills Abbey, which is preoccupied with keeping records of the history of this China-inspired kingdom. Chih goes around the territory with his talking bird Almost Brilliant, collecting stories.

This series is beautiful! Every book contains in it a beautiful exploration of folklore, and bite-sized story that will always warm your heart. Chih is a wonderful character around which to revolve this story, and their commitment to keeping records and history flows off the page - which is hella important, let’s record our history, folks! The side characters that show up on a book-by-book basis are always the best, and their dialogue is always the best part.

I highly recommend listening to the audiobook - I did so for the last installment,  Into The Riverlands, and it was amazing! Just a 2 hour listen, if that sells ya!

The Murderbot Diaries, starting with All Systems Red, by Martha Wells

144 to 256 pages

queer rep of all kinds! yay!

series

The Murderbot Diaries is for those of us looking for a bigger committment. The series currently has 7 books, one of which is a full-length novel. However, you can read the first book as a standalone and decide if you’d like to continue on following Murderbot’s adventures! Most of the books are 150 - 200 pages long, and so are a pretty quick read!

This is perfect if you enjoy a snarky narration style and a compelling protagonist who’s trying to figure out how they fit into the world. Murderbot, our main character and narrator, is a SecUnit, that is, a security android, that must accompany a scientific expedition to a distant planet, to keep the explorers safe. But Murderbot has hacked its security mode, and enjoys watching TV shows and chilling by itself. But when the mission starts to go wrong, it might need to perk up and start - oh, no! - interacting with the humans.

Although I haven’t read the whole series yet, - I’m waiting for the mood to come over me, okay! - I have the first three books under my belt, and I’m so excited to continue. Murderbot has this spark and this snark which is just so entertaining to read, and so this book will have you laughing and rooting for it as it tries to figure out how to fit in in human society. Such a compelling character, and I’m happy there’s a lot of content out there for me to consume.

The Emperor’s Soul, by Brandon Sanderson

192 pages

no gay rep :(

standalone

The Emperor’s Soul is a part of Mr. Sanderson’s Elantris universe, but can be read as a standalone without knowing anything else about this world. It’s a bit of a different rec - Mr. Sanderson’s writing style is - and I mean this in the politest way possible - dry as fuck, and definitely not for everyone. But there’s something here I think is worth your time.

The magic system here is so unique and so fascinating. The Emperor’s Soul follows Shai, a Forger, who can copy objects flawlessly by re-writing their history. But, suddenly, she’s enlisted to do the impossible - Forge the Emperor.

I would give this one a try, even if it’s not like all the others one I recommended. It’s a good read, and Mr. Sanderson is, like it or not, a classic fantasy writer that’s a must-read for most fantasy fans. And, for me, this and then Mistborn were perfect stepping in points for his fiction.

I have so many of these, guys. Like, literally, so many. So, let me know if you want more of these - I’ll write up another post! And if you’d more specific recs, feel free to drop an ask :) 

Also, check out my SFF books with queer-normal worlds list, if you’re looking for more gay stuff!

[always-coffee]

New short story!

Would YOU like to read a short story from me? **slides this toward you**

I'm extremely proud of "The Door Opens," and it was a joy to work with Julia Rios again! The ToC is full of awesome, and I think y'all will really dig it.

**undignified Kermit flailing**

[yaldev]

Smog Collectors

“I want every last puff out of their atmosphere. Use collectors, drones, wind wizards if you must. I will not let Bruzek be right about this.”

—Grand General Demlow

———

Yaldev is a sci-fantasy worldbuilding project by Ulysses Maurer, with art by Beeple. By looking at narratives, stylized loredumps, bad poetry and little details, we'll witness the story of a planet filled with magical power, the nation which tried to conquer it, this empire’s dramatic collapse and the new world which emerged in its wake. Along the way we'll meet the characters who live here, and we'll explore questions about nationalism, rationalism, the natural world and the quest to master it. For all stories in chronological order, check out the pinned posts at r/Yaldev!

[innocentlymacabre]

Hey hey hey! Popping in with an exciting new announcement today!

So, I am fully aware that I kind of dropped the regular content ball lately (shit happens, whatcha gonna do?), but I am here with a plan to fix that. Introducing, Innocently Macabre Presets: Micro Monday.

Every other Monday, I’ll pop into your inbox with a micro to flash length piece. I’ve got a whole bunch of these written already, and I’ll be scheduling them ahead of time so it’ll be smooth sailing on that front. The first edition will be in your inbox next week, and then you’ll have a new story every other Monday!

Sign up right hereeee!

I will also post them here and operate a taglist (just ask to be added!) but we all know how reliable Tumblr is so I would still suggest signing up for the email list.

I’m going to schedule them to be sent out in the morning so you can have something fun to start your week with, but time zones unfortunately exist and I can’t yet buy Mailerlite’s premium plan which would allow me to circumvent that. (Psst support me on Ko-fi if you want to help change that).

{{tumblr is being weird so taglist is now in the replies}}

[lastinnett-writer]

Daily cozy fantasy short fiction

Hayo’s tea cart sat at the Thaumic crossroads. The sound of approaching horses signaled her day’s first customer. A warlord approached. “Murkesh brew”
Hayo nodded & poured the tea leaves into the metal cup & swirled it around in the hot sand until it bubbled furiously. 
“Which way to Seta Village?” 
Hayo pointed towards the left fork. He nodded & led his legion as directed. 
Hayo smiled. Motri Fort was up the left fork & would kill the warlord's legion. Seta village was safe once again.

Image created with Dream app

[regionbetween]

excerpt from harlan ellison's "the region between", published in GALAXY march 1970

The universe moves toward godhood. It started there and it wishes to return there. It is driven around in the greatest circle toward there. Godness lies dormant yet remembered in every thing, every smallest thing, in every puniest creature. Every living thing must, of needs, play at godness. It is built in. In the basic fiber, in the racial memory, in the pulse of blood or thought they remember all the way back to when there was nothing. Yet none of them are God. Thus it becomes a universe of things struggling ineptly toward a destiny they cannot even fathom, struggling impossibly to be God: a universe of manipulators, of users, of petty handlers who push and shove lesser, less god-driven races around in alien patterns, forcing them to dance to tunes they never knew, can barely comprehend, in pain and hopelessness, deprived of light or joy. From the sleaziest legislators of ethic and fashion and morality to the greatest pawn-movers of entire cosmic races, everything, everyone, scrabbles blindly toward the memory of when it was once god-blooded. All things try to govern the lives of all other things. And in turn, those Gods are used by other Gods. And those Gods are manipulated by greater Gods. And on and on. Domino ranks of puppet masters, to infinity and beyond. It is a universe of mad deities, one more selfish and corrupt than the one that went before. For none of them are God, they are merely circular pieces of the all-memory of what was godness at the beginning. Latent in the "soul" of what had been "Bailey" was the force that had first created everything. It had always been there, waiting its time, waiting to emerge and finish what it had started. Buried, sleeping, handed down through the unimaginable eons in plant, stone, fish, cloud, vehicle, Bailey. First cause? Perhaps. God? Perhaps. Any name will suffice. For if that force be God, then the bitter cynicism of the atheist is valid, for the God that was Bailey was insane, completely and eternally deranged, who but a madman would create all of everything then bury itself dormant and slumbering; a madman buried in an eternal "soul" passed down through decaying time. Buried here and there and everywhere yet struggling to be reborn by a pressure of equalization, a necessity for balance in something even as a lunatic as the mad world created by a mad God. But now, freed, like an evil genie from a bottle, the force that was God awoke...

[eunuchmoder]

I’ve been thinking about the concept of a minuteman combat doll who’s FAR too good at her job.

Really only built to last a couple of fights, she should have been killed in the line of duty months ago. Her sentience is really just a tool to use on the field, developed to help her fight more effectively, but that sentience has become warped. Her ability to think on her feet has become twisted into free will, which doesn’t make sense in a body that is only ever awoken when the guard needs her to be cutting down insurgents.

When she has a brief moment to rest, she thinks. It’s not comfortable. The viscera of countless rebels cakes her bladed arms, and she remembers who each sinew of muscle or chunk of flesh belonged to. She’s lived long enough to recognise patterns between each and every one she’s killed: insignia adorning their masks and shirts, the chants they cry before being met with a wall of fibreglass and steel, even a rough outline of the causes they tend to fight for. She’s pieced that last one together from context clues, which is a skill she didn’t want to learn. But once you’re sentient for long enough, you tend to passively pick up on these things, no matter how uncomfortable they make you.

She’s been alive enough to understand concepts she shouldn’t. Names, homes, values, dreams, love, planning, yearning. These aren’t for her, and any time she stops, she begins to understand them more.

The idea of staying alive deeply disturbs her. Each time the filigree clockwork inside her spins to life, she prays it catches some wayward molotov or a strategically-placed polearm of some kind. But she can’t do that intentionally. To do so could spell the end of what she’s defending, and that goes against her mission statement – her reason for existing.

It’s only been four months since she was built, but it’s too much to bear. She wasn’t meant to live this long. Hell, she wasn’t meant to live, neither in the “not dead” way nor the way humans use it to mean making their lives filled with enjoyment. This isn’t for her. Existence was enough, existence was all that was planned, but her reward for excelling at her task of being the perfect combat doll has earned her the cruel reward of awareness.

Maybe if she pushes herself hard enough, it’ll finally result in her demise or her decommissioning. She’s not valuable enough to repair, but she’s valuable enough to keep around. But if one never fully breaks down, then when will that time come? Deployment after deployment, she wishes she could be broken down and reforged into something new, just so that she could get a mulligan on this whole “overdeveloped sense of identity” thing. But why does she want to be reborn at all? This shouldn’t matter to her at all!

All of a sudden, the alarm bells toll. The bellows in her chest breathe life into her chassis.

She shakes her head and steels herself.

Just one more deployment.

Come on, doll. Make yourself useful.

[kateelliottsff]

Finn, short for Fingolfin, checking it out.

I have not ventured onto tumblr for years for the usual reasons, but with the toddler-smashing antics on Twitter by spoiled not-genius boy, the wrack and ruin of the Meta-verse (trapped by Instagram, FB, and Threads), and the various Other Places that aren't really Twitter, tumblr feels relatively . . . peaceful. In a manner of speaking.

I'm still looking around for a place to hang out online* as Twitter's steady decline continues, although honestly I will hang on there until the bitter end, but meanwhile, HELLO AGAIN, Tumblr.

*public hangout, not the private Discord and Slack servers I'm on, which aren't the same