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chickpeaiswriting.bsky.social
@chickpeaiswriting.bsky.social
160 followers 300 following 250 posts
Editing is my passion and torment. There are ten things wrong in the words I just wrote. No, eleven.

'!' means I really like what I just read.
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chickpeaiswriting.bsky.social
chickpeaiswriting.bsky.social @chickpeaiswriting.bsky.social · Jul 17
Editing continues. You're good people & I'm not going to lie to you. Will re-read 5x and find 10 things and re-post some, most, or all of them.
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jundlife.bsky.social
IM BACK!!!!!!

I have returned to my computer and normal life..(booo)
Anyhow, let's start out a bang - Someone's first kill.
From "Endlings"
#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #WIPSnips
Reggie's skin was blackened, his eyes were gone and he could see bits of bone under destroyed flesh. Maraha looked at his hands, totally unmarked, not even a drop of blood. Would you ever kill a human? Vayen had once asked him. Yes, a thousand times yes, he answered mentally. He felt positively lethal.
August 4, 2025 at 8:30 AM
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tiffanyeauthor.bsky.social
#WIPSnips August 3 *trend*

From Ice Quake, a 40+ midlife Ice Butch novella.

#IceQueen #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #WritingPrompt #QueerWriters #ButchFemme
A text snippet from Ice Quake by Tiffany E. Taylor.
August 3, 2025 at 9:29 AM
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42sms1701.bsky.social
Reality Entertainment in the future might not be any better than it is now...

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #amwriting #military #Intrigue #sciencefiction #spaceopera #sffchat #writesky #writingprompts #bluesky #humor
“I am not going through three-hundred and seventy-whatever manifests for now when we’ve got this much of a trend. Spot check a few more then we’ll call the others. Lucky us the Transit Void manifests are part of the public tax filings.” Windsor grunted and swung her feet up onto the glass desk. Pallas Mordecai did the same from the other side. “Not being able to just ask the ship to do all this was worse than Tislayak neurochemistry and they have three pituitaries.” “Oh, that’s new. Why three?” “They morph genders every standard decade or so after puberty. The first pituitary becomes inert then the other two trade dominance. They’ve turned a lot of the equatorial belt into a relationship counseling tourist attraction. They're apparently really good at it and you get free sessions if you agree to let them broadcast some of them.”
August 3, 2025 at 9:58 AM
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maximejaz.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
From my bodyguard WIP.
Duncan waits for Spencer to get ready to go out, and they banter, as always, since at the start, they can't stand each other.
Duncan listened to the shower, the toilet, whipping his gaze away when Spencer walked out wrapped in a towel. “Oh, shy?” “Put something on. I’m not paid enough to look at your body.” Spencer scoffed, his voice coming from the dressing room. “That’s my line.” “Yeah, well, it’s mine now.” Waiting, fuming a bit, that half-eaten plate getting on his nerves. He hated wasting. He looked at Spencer when he walked out, in tight black jeans and a loose dark red shirt tied at the waist. He had left it unbuttoned at the top, down to his navel. His eyes just lightly rimmed in black, he was looking at his nails, various silver rings on his fingers. “I need to have a manicure… maybe tomorrow. No time now.” His mocking eyes went to Duncan. “Get ready and bring the car over. Oh, don’t dress like a penguin… something less posh even if that club is just that. Maybe dark jeans and a shirt?” Duncan had stood. “I don’t need your fashion advice.” Spencer grinned, lighting his joint again as he sprawled on the sofa. His eyes went to Duncan, half-hooded, with that insolent smirk on his sharp lips. “I think you do. Shoo-shoo… Hurry.”
August 3, 2025 at 9:41 AM
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ms-writes.bsky.social
Here's a fun one. The voice is a character that i could just sit and read his dialogue forever and wouldn't get bored.

Do you think he's just a trick of Alex's brain? or something else?

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting
“Come on Alex, don’t be such a pushover. Crying won’t make it better.” A man’s voice echoed throughout the bedroom. Alex flung his head up. “What? Who is this?” “looking for me? You’re looking in the wrong direction friend. I am in here.” The voice rang out from everywhere at once. Alex swept a nervous gaze around the room, but darkness and furniture were the only residents. “Told you. I am inside.” “Inside my head?” Alex knit his eyebrows. “Oh… you’re just another hallucination from the garbage collection that’s been haunting me lately.” “Those are not hallucinations Alex. And I promise you, I am very real… right? I mean crazies who see their deceased mother hanging at the edge of their door think she’s of flesh and bone. So real is relative, but I digress.” “Who the hell are you?” “That’s a difficult question. You see, I don’t really remember a thing.” He paused. “But ah, how would you address me then? After all, I am staying here a while. So, how about this? to make communication between us easier, you can call me voice. I am currently without a body… yet.” “So first I have visions, and now I hear voices? Great. Just great. I am going to go sleep.” “But why? Let’s stay here and enjoy the scenery of the couch.” The voice suggested. “What are you going to comment on everything now?” “Not to your liking?” “Who likes living with a commentator inside their head?” “Everyone has a voice inside their head Alex. The voice of self, the voice of reason, of guilt, and many more. But the voice inside your head? Well…” He broke into a loud laughter, one that resounded through Alex’s skull like a death knell. “I think your brain is following a… different trend.”
August 3, 2025 at 9:01 AM
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camalin.net
Here's an example from my WIP #Ellamir: it's the fantasy equivalent of being drunk and picking up a kebab on the way home, getting carried away with the salad and sauces, opting foolishly to top it all off with a really hot pepper, then regretting it shortly after eating:
A snippet from Ellamir by C A Malin As the coach left Upthorpe Thoroughborne, Nicholls was just beginning to regret his temerity in rushing off to answer Lady Lamont's summons without taking breakfast when he caught the tempting smell of roasting meat wafting in through the open windows. Just coming into view was a roadside stall, where a rotund halfling was turning a porker upon a spit, beneath a sign that read 'Mingo's Meat Parcels' in bright red letters. "Hi there," called Nicholls, "stop the coach!" Climbing down - "perfectly steady upon my feet, I assure you - anyone might take a slight tumble from as high and noble a carriage as the Barouche, and I suffered no hurt from it" - he had ordered the largest available of all the halfling's meat-and-bread offerings, and urged him to add to it in abundance every type of good thing he had upon the stall: fried onions, leaves of lettuce, wedges of tomato, a generous helping of Mingo's 'famous' garlic sauce, and to top it all, a long, lurid-coloured pepper. Thus furnished with much-needed sustenance, and a large paper flagon of pale ale to help it go down, he had returned to the Barouche extremely pleased.
August 3, 2025 at 11:51 AM
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peterrobin.bsky.social
#WIPSnips August 3 "trend"

From The Deadman Deck

In which a member of the Australian Council of Mages learns the hard way: Never bring a wand to a gunfight.
I decided to knock on the door and see if he would let me in. He did. He asked how the Deadman thing was going and I said that as near as I could determine I wasn't dead yet. He laughed and ushered me into his lounge room. He was wearing a purple smoking jacket with a fancy pattern, similar to the one worn by Albert Marcus when I met him. It must be some Magus fashion trend. He turned round and said, “I presume you have come to kill me. I'm afraid you won't find it as easy as you …” I shot him in the middle of the forehead which was an amazing piece of beginners luck since I was aiming for the chest. Wrists still too weak to control the kick up I suppose. He had been raising his arms as I shot him so I suppose he was about to spring whatever magical trap he had lured me into.
August 3, 2025 at 8:10 AM
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charliedeltawrites.bsky.social
August 3rd- trend

Going for a synonym with fashion.

Av’ry reflects on his upbringing. It was not pleasant, but it did teach him how to get what he wanted from the wealthy.

cw: child neglect

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
“For a brief time during my youth, it was considered fashionable for the wealthy elite to adopt a poor orphan child. Show how terribly charitable they were, brag to their friends, that sort of thing. “They would come around to the orphanages and pick one out, the way you might pick a puppy. One that was suitably cute and pathetic, but old enough that seemed like they wouldn’t be too much trouble around the house.” His lip curled briefly in disgust. “I would dress myself up and redden my cheeks and go stand around looking sad and soulful whenever the wealthy ladies wandered by. “Eventually, when I was about 8, a woman named Maerta March took me in. She was an older widow, and she wasn’t really interested in having an adopted child, but she needed one to show off at parties, or her friends would think she was terribly gauche. So, she brought me home, foisted me on one of her servants and went about ignoring me unless she needed me for something. “That suited me fine, I didn’t really want a mother, either. I got nice clothes, food, and an upper-class education. Most importantly, I learned that to get what you wanted, all you had to do was bat your eyes and tell people what they wanted to hear. “So, when Maerta eventually died and I was out in the cold, I decided to apply that lesson to maintain my standard of living.” “You didn’t inherit anything from your adoptive mother?” Mikiva asked. Av’ry barked a laugh. “No. I wasn’t her real son. In fact, I suspect the only reason she didn’t send me back once keeping orphans went out of fashion was because she had forgotten about me entirely by then.”
August 3, 2025 at 7:50 AM
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saranadosfiction.com
#WIPSnips | trend

Back at the start of Silver in the Ashes, in Fest's POV, and a brief pause for drinking and relaxation

( saranadosfiction.com/2021/03/06/s... )
“Conversation? What- Oh, about the Revolution.” “Indeed.” He crossed to the drinks cabinet on the far side of the room, opening it and rummaging around among the bottles for a few moments before extracting a bottle so dark and weathered it looked to Fest for all the world as though it might’ve been pulled from some smuggler’s hoard or pirate cave straight out of one of his penny dreadfuls. “Ah-ha. I *knew* that was in there somewhere.” “Begging your pardon, sir- Archer, but what is that?” “This, my young friend, is a bottle of the Sincha Navy’s best. More specifically, it’s a bottle Sabbat and I liberated about eight years ago from a frigate that made the mistake of chasing after the *Arrow* on her own. Her captain kept a very well-stocked hold, and ours was happy enough to let us avail ourselves of it.” *I was right – it* is *pirate loot!* He was probably grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t stop himself – though the last couple of weeks of adventures had trended a good deal more on the terrifying side than he’d have liked, the fact he was looking at the outcome of an honest to the gods pirate raid was still far more exciting than it had any right to be. Judging by Archer’s expression, he was *definitely* grinning like a fool. The older vampire smiled, pulling a brace of tankards out of a box under the cabinet and setting them up on the side. “Let me take a mug of this through to Sabbat, and then, if you like, I’ll tell you the whole story over a drink.”
August 3, 2025 at 7:39 AM
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jangoeswriting.bsky.social
A similarly spelled synonym from “Prophet Hearing”.

#WiPSnips
The man whipped away, his beard curling around his neck, which looked very much in need of a good strangling, and moved to accost someone else. The problem being, as far as Barking was concerned, that the madman had drawn too large a crowd for Barking to perform his usual service for humanity, that is, weeding the crop of people and doing his bit to combat overpopulation. A smaller one he could handle by merely handing out a few well-aimed threats, but a crowd this size tended to have a few people who informed first and worried about their continued ability to breathe later.
August 3, 2025 at 8:10 AM
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woldry.bsky.social
From my #darkfantasy WIP, "We Who Walk in Shadow," a snippet from a letter sent by the noble elven bard, Perfirion, to his sister.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FantasyWriters 🌈✒️ 🩷⚔️🧙‍♂️
Lord Lausumaton confided to me that he contemplates stepping down from the Avikellan Council. In your prayers to our Wingèd Mother, petition Her to guide the Council to offer this opening to one of noble birth—perhaps a certain bard of your acquaintance? The trend in recent twelveyear of appointing lesser kinds to the Council has troubled me.
August 3, 2025 at 11:13 AM
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aaronsher.bsky.social
A snippet from Applied Leverage, book one of the urban fantasy series Origin Key (see my pinned post).

Turns out, a deluxe mansion can be just as scary as a haunted house… if you’re not supposed to be there.

#amwriting #WIPsnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #fantasy 📚💙
At least the floors in this place would never dare to creak. White would probably have them flogged if they did. The tracker finally registered a signal as we were creeping down a hallway that, based on glimpses through open doorways, seemed to run along behind a grand central entry hall. Nia gave the closed-fist military "stop" hand sign. I walked into her. This affected her not at all, and I recovered quickly. She pointed in a direction, and off we went again, padding silently down the darkened halls. Several times she checked the tracker and led me through one door or another, always trending in the same general direction. I just hoped that whatever we were hunting was on this floor; otherwise, we'd have to find a staircase and then do the whole thing again.
August 3, 2025 at 11:24 AM
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triempery.bsky.social
#WIPSnips The word for August 3 is TREND

The Triempery novels are so not about trend. But a trend can be a 'direction' of sorts, so this passage in which Emyli talks with someone who saw Aubrey at Askyllon--and that Aubrey has met a certain hateful someone.
#epicfantasy #WritingCommunity #WriteSky
Screenshot of a text excerpt from THE RILL LORD, sixth and final (Spring 2026) book of the Triempery Revelations series by L.L. Stephens. The scene features Emyli and an old friend, and the revelation that the Kheld woman Aubrey has met Dorilian Sordaneon--something Emyli never saw coming. Kathanos’s gaze drifted out the window. Following that look, Emyli saw that he watched Aubrey Amundda, standing without a cloak in the courtyard and talking spiritedly with her uncle, who had mounted for the return ride to Thunes. “I think it is time for Essera to accept that Khelds have a place here.” Emyli had few secrets from Kathanos, who had been one of her father’s closest confidants and shared many of the late King’s convictions. “Aye.” Kathanos looked lost in thought. “But how high a place, I wonder.” Emyli noted his direction and smiled. “Are you afraid a beautiful Kheld woman will catch my son’s eye?” “Your son’s eye? That may be. But I was thinking elsewhere.” The old man returned her look, a gentle contemplation brightening his amber gaze beneath brows of pure white. “I have seen that young woman before. She caused quite the stir in Askyllon.” “Askyllon?” Emyli had heard of the fortress. Hebron’s stronghold had served to host a gathering of the Royal North’s highest lords prior to launching the campaign against Stauberg. Kathanos had been present. Outside the window, Aubrey was standing alone now, watching her uncle ride away. “Last I saw her, that young woman was wearing an impossibly lovely gown and staring with the strangest stunned expression at Dorilian Sordaneon.” Emyli inhaled sharply. Of all the things she had not foreseen….
August 3, 2025 at 11:29 AM
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mr0mega.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #Fantasy
Only two uses. MC is taking a day to rest and went to the theater, seeing what's popular in the new city he's in compared to the shows back home. It let me come up with a random myth and show one way it's portrayed. I still need to finalize the name of the main city.
Back home, the big trend was historical drama, exaggerated tales of the founding of (City) as we know it. Here, the current wave was mythical and operatic; Gods and Saints with a whole lot more musical accompaniment. Much more enjoyable to listen to, but all the magic setwork in the world couldn’t portray feats of divine power in a way that felt right. This one was about one of the local saints, Shimusa the Sculptor. A bit more obscure these days since their miracles were related to old magic crystals, carving statues that performed all sorts of miraculous feats without compromising the crystal itself. She was one of gods knew how many saints of the arts, the one whose name was invoked when you worked in their chosen medium. The great statue seeding a desert and making a field of flowers bloom was a nice final spectacle, but these days that sort of ending felt wrong. It was almost mocking us for our lack of power or resources to fix such a broken land. But the folks who wrote that story ages ago never knew what was coming, and the crowd liked it. Maybe it was just a me problem.
August 3, 2025 at 11:33 AM
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marinestjean.bsky.social
#WIPSnips *trend*
Had to go back to Tyton for this one.
#lesfic #sapphic
“What’s your name?” Callie deflected. “Talia.” Damn her voice was something. Callie wondered if it was DocPod altered. But why would she alter it down? That had never been a trend. “Callie.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. Talia’s face lit up. “I was looking at the model,” she confessed, shifting awkwardly. Talia’s smile widened. “No wonder everyone is after you.” Callie blushed. Hard. Even in the heat of the dancefloor she could tell her skin had gone up several degrees. Talia leaned in, as if giving Callie top secret information. “Everyone else in this room wants to be the one holding the rope. They like the control.” “And you?” Callie felt her voice falter. Talia gave a half shrug. “I love control.
August 3, 2025 at 11:44 AM
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erikaarivett.bsky.social
“Movement” as in “tendency or direction” was about as close as we got to “trend.”

Ryo’s been on the hunt without sleep for about two days at this point. No idea how much his life is about to change. #WIPSnips #amwriting #writesky #writingcommunity #YA #fantasy
August 3, 2025 at 11:59 AM
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starbuds-and-roses.bsky.social
two synonyms for “trend (verb)” in one
#WIPSnips #writesky
a screenshot of white text against a black background, the words “turned” and “leaned” bolded. it reads: "You're awake." Cecyl froze and found Bazyli standing in the kitchen with him, still in his coat, flecked with melting snowflakes. "I was just about to draw you a bath." Cecyl gestured behind himself, met by a kiss the second he turned back to Bazyli—eyes wide at first, he quickly leaned into him, pulling Bazyli closer by his waist; his face held in his gloved palms.
August 3, 2025 at 10:30 AM
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jrdn-michelle.bsky.social
#wipsnips *trend* #lesfic #sapphic #queerwriters #writesky
"These things are scary." Her voice trembled and her hand tapped nervously on her knee. I put mine over hers. She was making me nervous. Charlotte, of course, took that as permission to take my hand and bring it up to her lips. It was like she didn't even have to think about it, like it was some kind of reflex. She had done it the first time we'd met, and it had become a trend, something she did every time we had seen each other. Luckily, she let my hand go so that I could clasp them together in my lap. "How have I never heard of them?" In truth, it was somewhat humiliating to realize there was an entire species of magical beings that I hadn't known about. "They don't live in the city, and there are none in the Other World. They live in forests and rural areas in North and South America. Where I grew up, we were on the edge of the forest. We weren't allowed to play in there after dark." "Oh, Charl--" "Shut up!" Charlotte shouted at the mimick, who was using Sebastian's voice again. "We killed it. We're here, Charlie." This time, it was Lorelei's voice, soft and warm. I could tell it made Charlotte pause. "Charlie, it's us. It's us. It's us. It's us."
August 3, 2025 at 7:43 AM
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camalin.net
Another synonym for today's #WIPSnips: "trend" = "fashion"

There's no love for adventurers at Lady Lamont's at-home gathering! This is from the very first page of my WIP #Ellamir

#WritingPrompts #WriteSky #AmWriting #Romance #Fantasy #Romantasy
A snippet from Ellamir by C A Malin "I have no doubt,” answered Lady Lamont with only slightly perceptible acidity, “that to a newer family, such concerns are but slight, Miss Oakhall. But it is to be expected that, yours being a smaller household with fewer servants, you do not hear what I hear. A good deal of this new money coming into the Kingdom is of questionable gain. It is said that many of these young fellows are not gentlemen at all, but are setting themselves up with the spoils of adventuring.” At this there was a good deal of head-wagging, and Lady Lamont, pleased at last with the effect of her words, drank from her cup with quiet satisfaction. A number of her ladies were in firm agreement with her: there was unquestionably much to be dreaded; adventuring was the very opposite of what made for a peaceful, respectable village. Adventurers were known to march about the countryside singing by day, and sleep in the open or under hedges by night; they wore the most outré fashions and sometimes wore barely anything at all; they revelled in shocking acts of violence, and dabbled with the worst kind of magic.
August 3, 2025 at 7:41 AM
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adamreisinger.com
#WritingLifeMonthly August Day 03

The first word Chloé ever said to Freja was “bronze”
"Hello Beth. Good to see you. And this must be the great Chloé LaFleur you're always raving about. I hear the Golden Girl is joining our cast next season." "Bronze," Chloé says, tersely. "What's that?" "I won bronze in Beijing, not gold. And I'm proud of it."
August 3, 2025 at 12:34 PM
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mimicofmodes.com
From The Happy Secret of It All: books2read.com/u/470Rd7 #WritingLifeMonthly
“Sorry,” said the person in a mellow alto tone, and she realized that they were a woman. “Didn’t mean to give you a scare.” “It’s … it’s fine.” Her heart was still hammering, but it was slowing down as she breathed. The other woman cocked her head as she took Patience in, even going so far as to fix a monocle in her right eye. That was downright unsettling. What did she think about what she saw? To distract herself, Patience took a bite of a strawberry tartlet, only for the crust to crumble in her glove and her palm to be filled with custard. Typical, truly typical.
August 3, 2025 at 12:42 PM
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pamelaelaela.bsky.social
It’s a reeeach, but I’m going with “pattern” for this one. This snippet comes from a chapter from my villain’s POV.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #AmWriting #AmQuerying
📚💙
The bitch had to go. As Hedda strode into her house, high on the Sulfur Cliffs, this was the recurring thought prowling through her head. She dismissed her Colts with a wave as the heavy steel door slammed shut behind her. She halted before the richly patterned aubergine rug filling the space of the living room and kicked off her heeled shoes. Stepping onto the velvety high pile, she rubbed her feet down, and a little sigh of satisfaction slipped from her lips, though contempt still curled their edges. Nice things were marvelous for moments like these, when she needed reminding. That she had squeezed all this from mere dregs. That all those choices others found so unsavory had been made in service of a life worth living. That she existed among beautiful things—and Arin Blake was just a gutter rat.
August 3, 2025 at 12:02 PM
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professoremily.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwriting #amquerying #writingcommunity #writers #writesky

No "trend" in any of my WIPs, so we're going with "fashion."

In this culture, only elite families are given proper names, which can only be granted by the gods - one of Mireia & Kena's jobs. From Book 2 of my #Atlantis trilogy.
Two movable thrones had been placed before the altars of Mu’u and Raa. Mireia took her seat beneath the towering statue of the Sea Mother, while Kena sat at her right side beneath the statue of the Sun Father. Down the length of the sanctuary, on either side of the long sacred pool that ran down its center, a procession of grandly dressed people approached, several of them dressed in the furs and dragon scales that distinguished Northern-style fashions. Mireia noticed that a few of them were also covered nearly head-to-toe in elaborate tattoos, of a similar style to Kena’s own phoenix tattoo—a sign that they belonged to the Cult of Laiar, the God of Time and Memory, who enjoyed quite a large following throughout the Northern regions. The northerners all dropped to one knee before them and bowed their heads in reverence. Then two of them—a man and a woman, who seemed to be the chosen representatives of the clan—stood and stepped forward toward Kena and Mireia. “Great Mu’u and Raa,” said the woman, who wore her iron-gray hair in austere braids twisted around the crown of her head. Her lower lip had been pierced with an orichalcum ring, and a glossy dragon scale dangled from it, resting against her chin. As she turned her head, it seemed to shift in the light from green to pinkish-orange. “We are here on behalf of a great clan of Tekolis, to beg you will recognize us as firstborn descendants of your children.”
August 3, 2025 at 11:24 AM