Julie March
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juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
Julie March
@juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
980 followers 520 following 5.1K posts
Sci-fi Author | Autistic & ADHD | Chronically ill & chronically online | TN 💜🤍🖤 she/her | 🚫A.I

Website: juliemarchbooks.wordpress.com
Buy my book: juliemarchbooks.itch.io
Kofi: https://ko-fi.com/juliemarchbooks
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juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
Thank you youtube for picking the weirdest and most sinister thumbnail possible for this trailer
Photo of a YouTube video thumbnail showing an ice cave with large red letters reading "THEM" overlaid.
November 24, 2025 at 6:38 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
Won't someone think of the poor mega-capitalists? Running a mining colony is hard. Surely a few casualties aren't that big a deal.

Well, Cary Patterson and his squad of outcasts have had enough.

OMEGA SQUAD: a novella, arriving 2026

#WIPPit #A #SF #DS #H?
November 23, 2025 at 9:43 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
#WIPSnips one thing about this man, he loves imprisoning maidens (regardless of gender) in ugly minimalist dungeons
“Yes, I got the full report.” Anthony motioned me out. “No side effects from the sedatives?” “Do that to me again and I’ll kill you.” “I’ve come to expect nothing less.” He rested a hand on the back of my neck and steered me toward the elevators. “Come see your new room—and your new roommate.” Anthony pushed the button for the third and lowest level of the sub-basement. I tried not to ponder how many feet of earth separated me from the light of day as we descended.
November 20, 2025 at 4:15 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
Of course my style is the secret third thing. It always has been
Tumblr post by user DaisyWords that reads, "if you put a weird character in a normal situation, people call it "literary fiction." If you put a normal character in a weird situation, people call it "genre fiction." If you put a weird character in a weird situation, you will have produced a forbidden, elite type of fiction that attracts one-star goodreads reviews from the most boring people you can imagine."
November 19, 2025 at 4:22 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
Highly accurate. So accurate it's in the text 😂
I let the shower run over my head, rinsing my hair a third time for the hell of it. It had been days since my last shower, and even longer since my last hot shower. After the better part of an hour in the hottest water I could stand, any hint of smoke or grime was long gone. The bruises, though...they remained.
November 18, 2025 at 3:27 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
im just gonna show you (redacted)

WOULD YOU NOT ASSUME THIS IS AN EXAMPLE NUMBER
2. Enter you employee ID number followed by "@company.com" and click next. Example: Employee ID: 1234567 Login ID: 1234567@company.com (Do NOT use your personal email address)
November 18, 2025 at 12:22 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Bolton having a bad time in the apocalypse, as usual
Up ahead, one of the operatives froze. They cocked their helmeted head a few degrees and turned it slowly in my direction. The sound of fighting half a block away faded to nothing as the hairs on my arms lifted. There was no way they’d heard me, right? I’d barely heard me. A gun safety clicking off doesn’t make much noise. “What the hell?” I whispered. The soldier broke away from their squad. They spoke into their shoulder words I couldn’t make out and strode up the sidewalk in my direction. For a second, I let myself be paralyzed. I wallowed in the fear creeping up my throat—all but relished it. Finally, I had a reason for the gentle pulse of terror that had buzzed inside my head for days: I was about to be killed behind a fried chicken place. I took several scrambling steps before I could break into a full run.
November 17, 2025 at 7:16 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
Hello from the bathroom floor and the cat who swears he doesn't like me
Low angle photo of a fluffy gray and white tuxedo cat with very large green eyes sitting on a bathroom floor next to a discarded pair of jeans. He looks vaguely concerned.
November 17, 2025 at 2:08 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
ay what the heck, have the rest of the scene, which is more of a musing on why i really dont want an iud, thankyouverymuch

tw for cutting that looks a lot like self-harm but isn't
The med tech provided a medium-sized bandage and an NSAID—free gifts from VerdTech in exchange for someone’s soul—and waved the subject onward to the photo station. My knife shook with the memory. I’d come up to the precipice of passing out when they placed mine, overloaded from the pain and the horror of what they’d done to me. For the first year, I had to restrain myself from clawing the damn thing out of my skin every time I glanced at it, even after the angry red inflammation around the chip faded to pink scar tissue. To know that I had been marked, that there was something foreign inside of me forever, turned my blood cold and made my skin crawl with an unnameable dread. Well, now was my chance. I didn’t relish the specifics of what I was about to do, but they more than justified the end result. I plunged the knife into the skin next to the chip and felt around until I found the first barb.
November 16, 2025 at 6:13 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
#WIPSnips tw for medical torture

can you tell this is based on the time i got a pap smear and it was so painful they couldnt finish
Placing an identity chip was a two-step process. With two straps on either side of the site to immobilize the arm, and restraints around the subject to immobilize the rest of them, a medical tech first made a three-centimeter incision with a cauterizing blade—not too deep, so as to avoid infection or nicking any large veins. By the time the subject was done hollering about the first part, the second was already in progress. Debtors got local anesthetic. Cons got numbing cream if they were lucky. The chip itself was about two centimeters long and one centimeter wide, loaded into a sort of punch device that resembled a cookie cutter at the bottom and a syringe on the top. With cold efficiency, the med tech spread the incision and worked the rectangular end inside. A spring forced the chip into the opening. Four barbs, one from each side, released on impact, burrowing into the surrounding skin.
November 16, 2025 at 5:58 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
Copyright page train, why not? This is from my Halloween short from this year. Standard copyright notices and disclaimers, designer credit, and a somewhat improvised "don't steal my stuff for the plagiarism machine" notice
Copyright (c) 2025 Julie March All rights reserved. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. This is a work of art by humans for humans. No part of this book may be reproduced by or used in the training of AI models, artificial intelligence, machine learning, or large language models. Cover design by: Porchlight Design Co.
November 16, 2025 at 4:44 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
No but they've literally had this discussion once Bolton could no longer pretend he was fine
“My struggling lungs would beg to differ,” I replied. “That’s how it always starts. Respiratory...respiratory distress.” Full sentences were becoming a luxury. Sentences require talking, and talking requires breathing, after all. Three short sentences later and I was paying dearly for my hubris. “Well, I’m not shooting you when you start to turn,” Luke said. “We’ll have to be zombies together. Just bite me gently, would ya?” “This isn’t a zombie apocalypse, you dingbat.” “Be a lot cooler if it was.” “Luke!”
November 15, 2025 at 9:05 PM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
tw for whipping and not the fun kind, featuring Cary SpaceMinerGuy having a very bad time (when isnt he)
The first strike took my breath away, arced from my shoulder blade to my waist like a burning comet tracing its path across my body. Every nerve in my torso stood on end at the sudden shift from aching cold to white-hot pain. I choked on a cry trying to force its way out while I struggled to inhale. The second strike made my legs give out. My hands were fastened too high for my knees to reach the ground, so instead I hung helpless, my face pressed against the cold metal of the pole, the cuffs digging into my frozen wrists like blades formed of ice. I stopped counting after three. Though my clothes took the brunt of the whip's sharp edge, I felt blood running down my back. I'd given up trying to stifle any reaction; tears flowed freely into my mouth whenever I opened it to moan. There was an excellent chance I'd be sick, and I almost welcomed the distraction it might provide.
November 15, 2025 at 1:24 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
#WIPSnips hurt/comfort except oops! The comfort is just more hurt
"Can you get your shirt off?" Bal asked. When I didn't respond, he turned my face toward him and gave it a few pats. "Hey, you need to wake up." "Nuh-uh," I slurred eloquently. "Just until your body temperature comes up." He tried to lift my hands to the buttons, but my arms were too exhausted to stay up on their own, never mind that feeling hadn't fully returned to my fingers. "Okay, fine. Harrison, hold him up." Balthazar worked his way down the line of buttons faster than I could have managed on the best of days. My bare, clammy chest prickled in the cool air. A shudder started at the base of my skull before I could resist the urge; it sank sharp fingers into every lash on its way down my back.
November 12, 2025 at 10:09 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
Northern lights down in Tennessee tonight
Photo of pink, white, and green northern lights behind a line of trees. In the foreground is a speed limit sign and a light pole. The lights are in the vague shape of a heart
November 12, 2025 at 4:54 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
#WIPSnips can't stand them (affectionate)
I brought my hand over to Bolton’s and interrupted his chatter. “But that can wait until morning,” he finished abruptly, halfway through a sentence about curfews and local politics. “You need to rest.” I rolled over and curled into a ball. The bed was still made underneath me, and I was too tired to wrangle myself under the covers. Even with the chill of fever gone, my teeth knocked against each other in the cold air. After the artificial, perfectly climate-controlled air inside the Ancorp cells, it was a welcome change, but my gratitude had limits. “Can I have that blanket, please?” I gestured at a folded throw that Bolton had thoroughly rumpled. He passed it to me, then shifted so as to return to his chair. I blurted out before I could argue myself out of it, “And can you stay?”
November 11, 2025 at 12:13 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
#WIPSnips new crutch word unlocked oopsie but here's the Omega Squad thesis statement!
Something's gotta give, man.” I pushed myself upright and started climbing again, though my legs burned and my head swam. Left foot, right foot, left again, and I was a few feet closer to sitting down. “We're all gonna die if we continue like this.” “I can go by myself,” Balthazar offered. “Not the hill, Bal. The machines, the schedules, the bodies piling up. This whole damn place has gotta go.” Balthazar snorted like I’d told a joke that was only a little bit funny, then sobered when he realized I wasn’t laughing. “You’ll get yourself killed, Patterson. And they won’t make it quick.”
November 9, 2025 at 5:34 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
#WIPSnips a moment for Mrs. Davison, the surprise stand-out badass of False Horizon
Leecie shushed whatever reply was on her lips and pointed across the street. My own eyes caught the movement at about the same time. The window of Davison’s office slid open a few inches and a muzzle flash briefly illuminated the crouched body of someone behind it. Someone with a long, dark braid slung over one shoulder. Someone who had had her fill of loss in the last two days and wasn’t going to accept another one without a fight. I’d never taken Amy Davison for a crack shot, but I should have known better.
November 7, 2025 at 10:13 PM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
I really should get off my phone instead of lying awake being my own whump prompt, but in the spirit of misery: here's Cary having a slightly different bad time #WIPSnips

TW: blood
Bal paused and I heard the sloshing of one of them rinsing the cloth. In the brief reprieve, the sound of my own breath in my ears was ragged. I dared another look at the room. The water in Bal's lap was red. Partially obscured by the texture of the jug, little trails of my blood trickled a crooked path toward the bottom, until the water overcame their density and absorbed them into an endless sea of crimson. Aura looked like they might be sick. More than happy to join you, I thought in their direction.
November 5, 2025 at 8:48 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
No matter how long I'm at this, my nervous system still cannot distinguish between tracked changes and being chased by lions
Marbled blue post it note stuck to a desk with green lettering on it that reads, "your editor is not trying to kill you <3". Part of a red-lit keyboard is also visible.
November 3, 2025 at 11:45 PM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
case in point (this goes on for two more lengthy paragraphs)
The admin building was the only structure with any semblance of style in the compound; compared to the drab gray and green squares that housed the actual workings of the colony, it was downright gaudy. I wasn't sure if Prentiss had had any input in its design, but it suited him well: it was useless, opulent, and attractive only to other rich people.
November 3, 2025 at 8:56 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
It's creepy cloud fall
A bank of dark clouds hanging over a parking lot and an apartment complex at twilight. A streetlight glows toward the left. Different angle of a dark cloud bank over a nearly empty parking lot with trees and two streetlights beyond it. In the forehead is part of a sidewalk and an old red truck.
November 3, 2025 at 4:03 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
#WIPSnips feel like it's been forever since i've shared anything from false horizon so here's some angst with a tw for vomit and spoilers for the very end of bos
I held myself together just long enough to keep the battered screen door from smacking Luke’s head. Bolton deposited him on a dusty adirondack chair and rubbed between my shoulders while I heaved onto the patchy, yellow grass next to the back porch. “I’m no better than he is,” I gasped once my stomach had emptied itself of everything in it and more. “I killed someone, Bolton. My best friends’ dad. Point blank. And I killed more today—I’m not sure I even feel bad about those! I sure as hell didn’t in the moment. I’m turning into a monster.” Smoke from the burning husk of the Ancorp van a few feet away filled my lungs and eyes, making my throat constrict. I caved into a sob.
November 1, 2025 at 7:19 AM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
Sorry it's sideways but here are my goobers not knowing how to handle my return after a weekend away. I hope your day gets better
Low angle photo of a fluffy gray cat facing away from the camera in the doorway to a hallway, and a black cat who is mostly a blur because he's walking in the same direction the gray cat is facing
October 29, 2025 at 8:23 PM
juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
From my spooky season Achilles Protocol prequel story (free to read and no knowledge of the series required!) #WIPSnips

[ juliemarchbooks.itch.io/the-last-hal... ]
There was a shuffling outside my window, then Leecie slipped a red-gloved hand under the pane I’d left cracked and pulled it open. “Lord,” she panted. “Do you know how hard it is to get up here in this dress? Whoa. Nice mullet.” I gave my wig one last tug and turned away from the mirror. Leecie maneuvered herself through the window, careful not to snag her miles of red skirt on the outside of the house. She’d found the dress at a thrift store, and between the two of us, we’d figured out how to alter the sleeves to our vision. After that, studding a gold belt was child’s play. “You look awesome,” I said. Me, I’d bought most of my costume off the internet, right down to a prop sword from an artist who was possibly more obsessed with the source material than we were.
October 28, 2025 at 8:27 PM