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pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Pame-fa-la-la 🎄 la-la-la-Jeong
@pamelaelaela.bsky.social
700 followers 510 following 4.8K posts
Lifelong writer, aspiring author, mom of two.

Bibliophile, cinephile, serial hobbyist. I'm talking graveyards of crochet needles & ukuleles.
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pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Pame-fa-la-la 🎄 la-la-la-Jeong @pamelaelaela.bsky.social · 11d
Forgive me for the sentimentality, but this Thanksgiving, I’m so grateful for this writing community that’s welcomed me in. You’ve given me joy, wonder, hope, and friendship during a tumultuous time in my life. Thank you. ❤️

Here’s a poem I love. No machine can dig this way. So let’s keep digging.
Digging By Seamus Heaney Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging. The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft Against the inside knee was levered firmly. He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep To scatter new potatoes that we picked, Loving their cool hardness in our hands. By God, the old man could handle a spade. Just like his old man. My grandfather cut more turf in a day Than any other man on Toner’s bog. Once I carried him milk in a bottle Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up To drink it, then fell to right away Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods Over his shoulder, going down and down For the good turf. Digging. The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge Through living roots awaken in my head. But I’ve no spade to follow men like them. Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I’ll dig with it.
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hookandquillpress.com
Hello, friends! Did you know about the Hook & Quill Press newsletter? We're doing a lot of fun stuff, and we make sure we share it all here!
hookandquillpress.com/from-the-qui...

#hqpress #indieauthors #quillbert4ever #booksky
December 8, 2025 at 3:26 PM
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carska36.bsky.social
It's always fun to share your favorite things, and I'd love to learn more about some of yours 🩷🩷
An infographic with the words "my favorites". On top of a background with green squares are white cartoon bunnies, a picture of cheese and pepperoni pizza with chicken wings, an iced coffee, a poster for the movie Midsommar, a picture of the book Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain, and and episode title card that reads "Neon Genesis Evangelion Finale: Take Care of Yourself."
December 8, 2025 at 2:59 PM
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walkerharris.net
Digs getting ready for Unification Day. It's funny, this bit of worldbuilding was completely inspired by the picrew image maker I used to figure out her look happening to have a nice side braid option.

From Felcrown, my fantasy adventure serial about a megadungeon that becomes a city.

#WIPSnips
Screenshot of a work-in-progress manuscript with the word 'four' highlighted. Growing up being on display once a year as a symbol of hope to an entire city was a challenge. This year seemed so much better. Last night, her mother made her usual three long remembrance braids on either side of Digs’s face in honor of her father and her adopted older brother Rajak’s birth parents who died in the battle to slay the Oppressor God. She told her daughter about what they were like. The thrilling adventures the four of them had. Embarrassing stories. About dances, and proposals, and deciding to start families. All the while, weaving the memories into the braids. A picrew illustration of a woman with purple skin, pale blue eyes, and white horns. She has dark blue hair in faux locs with three tight braids on either side of her face. She is wearing a white shirt with a high neck, blue vest, a black scarf, and silver round glasses. The name of the artist who created the picrew is in the upper left. Crowesn
December 8, 2025 at 2:40 PM
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charliedeltawrites.bsky.social
December 8th – fourth

#AnthropomorphicNovel, today!

Nothing has gone wrong yet, but Ray has a bad feeling about what they are walking into.

Though she is kind of afraid of elevators, so maybe that’s all it is…

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
“It’s probably nothing, never mind. Let’s just… Let’s just get there and see what we find.” While his attention was on the road, I reached down and checked the gun in my holster, making sure it was easily accessible. Things just might get more interesting than James had bargained for. We pulled into the parking lot of a small office building, and Simon parked the car. He moved to open his door, but I shook my head. “Wait just a sec.” I scanned the lot but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “Do me a favor? Pull up your hood,” I instructed. “Ok…” He did as he was told, adjusting his sweatshirt. “What is going on, Ray?” “Probably just me being paranoid. Let’s get inside. Keep your head down and move quickly.” We crossed the parking lot and entered the building without incident. My hand didn’t leave the gun under my jacket. Simon led the way to the elevator. “We need to go up to the fourth floor,” he said. “How about we take the stairs?” I nodded at the door to the stairwell door.
December 8, 2025 at 11:06 AM
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sayaashrah.bsky.social
#WIPSnips 8. "Fourth"

You know things are serious when the trickster isn't joking anymore 🙃

#ChroniclesOfTheRealms #NetherTouchedSareena #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
She dispatched of the first demon cluttering her way with a swift arc that cleaved it in half. Organs clattered to the ground, alerting the nearby otoshel. A head rolled before it could turn to her, then she raised her swords and brought them down on a third demon. The fourth otoshel raised its spear, but before it could throw it, Sareena flung her sword, hacking its legs at the knees. Standing above it, she stomped on its head. Again and again and again. It took some time, but it finally broke into viscous metal shards. Hargassorv’s tail smashed an entire line of slaves near her. The surviving demons, preferring to fight someone their size, rushed Sareena as the Archdevil’s spawn slithered towards the fortress.
December 8, 2025 at 12:06 PM
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professoremily.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writers #writesky

I feel like I haven't posted many snips with Nat! In this one she learns a new card game from the boys. Just a chill snip 😊

From #Tenement, my dystopian mystery about people living in an infinite building.
“Hey guys,” she said shyly. Luna squirmed and scrambled out of her arms, darting back into the Gellars’ apartment. “Sorry about earlier. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much.” “No big deal,” I told her. “Sorry your friends were being jerks.” “It’s just Abby. She’s like that.” She sat down. “What’re you playin’?” “Don’t Blink,” said Jon. “You have to try to get rid of your cards as quick as you can by makin’ different combinations. But you gotta be quick when you grab the cards, or you’ll miss your chance. Kazuo made it up.” Kazuo had turned red again the moment she sat down. “It’s sorta dumb,” he mumbled. “Sounds fun, actually,” said Nat. “Could I play?” I grinned at her. “Uh, sure. But just so you know, Kazuo always wins.” After we explained the rules to her, Kazuo shuffled the cards and dealt us our starting hands. It took Nat a few rounds to get the hang of it, but by the fourth round she was keeping up with us as well as if she’d been playing the game her whole life. In the fifth round, she won. Kazuo still had two cards in his hand, and was reaching for the draw pile, when she threw down her final cards. He blinked at her. “What?” “I won,” she said politely. “I think? Right?” “Holy crap,” said Jon. I chortled.
December 8, 2025 at 12:08 PM
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woodenvelt.bsky.social
The only instance of fourth I've got, but it's a good one.

From book 2 of my romantasy wip about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #Wrencer
Wren couldn’t get up. She just couldn’t do it. Her arms and legs and fingers and toes had taken all the abuse they could bear and they refused to suffer one iota more. Rain pattered against her skin, carving tiny runnels through the gore that smeared her skin. At least I’ll die with a clean face. Wren laughed at the thought but her chuckle quickly turned to a gurgling cough as her open mouth caught more rainwater than she’d bargained for. She turned her head and shoulders to the side, half surprised that her body hadn’t completely betrayed her. The mutiny was evidently localized to her arms and legs. Wren lay back and tried to catalog the aches and pains and minor agonies that were playing a rousing ditty across her bones but she kept losing count and having to start over. She drifted for a bit, slipping in and out of consciousness. Each time she came to with a sudden start, half expecting a flash of steel or gnashing teeth aimed for her throat. The fourth time Wren woke, her eyes opened on an oval of white skin framed by damp black curls blotting out the sky overhead. Waterlogged and weak as a babe, paler than she’d ever seen him, Spencer still looked to Wren like an angel that had descended from the heavens to carry her to paradise. He cradled her head and shoulders in his lap, sharing what precious little warmth he had with her.
December 8, 2025 at 12:17 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Danbi trying and failing, trying and failing, trying and failing…

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #AmWriting #AmQuerying
📚💙
“Think of what this place means to you, Danbi. How it made you who you are. And reach for the heat at your fingertips.” I listen to the forest. I think of my days in the woods, turning over stones, floating in the creek, dreaming up worlds. Of sitting in the brush outside the apartment building, peering up from my book to search for my mom in the window. My hand reflexively reaches to the side, and I imagine the feel of hickory bark beneath the pads of my fingertips. And then I feel something. A kind of intensity in the air—a broad, gentle warmth, like holding your hand over a frying pan to test its heat. I shift my fingers an inch, and they feel hotter now. Elated, I lunge for the heat, my hand swooping through the air. The heat vanishes. I open my eyes. Nothing. “Try again.” “I felt something, but it was—” “It takes time. You must be steady. Try again.” I do. I try a second, third, and fourth time, but to no avail. Every attempt, something is off-balance—I move too hurriedly or too sluggishly, grab for the heat too aggressively or too softly, render the mental visual too vaguely or too inflexibly. After the twelfth attempt, Vega calls it a day, and we leave the Habitat. I trudge through the woods in defeated silence. But as we part ways, she says, “Come here again tomorrow. We made progress today, whether you realize it or not.”
December 8, 2025 at 12:09 PM
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charliedeltawrites.bsky.social
December 7th – empty

#AnthropomorphicNovel, today!

Ray and Simon escape an ambush with Liz, who may be more…interesting than they initially expected.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
Liz turned left onto a quiet residential side street, away from other traffic. “Do we have any pursuers?” I looked back and studied the road behind us; no cars in sight. “Looks like we are clear.” The succubus took a few more turns, deeper into the maze of streets. The empty roads would make anyone following us painfully apparent. She had some training; some experience in the craft. “What exactly did you do for the Council, again?” I asked. I caught a quick smile in the rearview mirror. “I…kept an eye on things for them. Asked questions, gathered information, that sort of thing. Nothing too serious,” Liz replied casually. “Right.” I raised an eyebrow. “We couldn’t rely on the Organization for everything, after all. So, when the Council needed to know something, they would send me to…have a talk with people.” “People like me?” Simon finally spoke up. “Well, you were in a terrorist organization, so, yes, people like you.”
December 7, 2025 at 9:48 AM
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professoremily.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writers #writesky

It's a nice snip today! 😅 Mem & Light are walking home late after Clara abandoned Mem at a club, and we learn one of Mem's favorite interests.

From #Charagma, my SFF dystopia where all people are marked saved or damned from birth.
They’d fallen back into conversation after leaving the club, but now walked on for a few minutes in silence—not an awkward silence, but a comfortable one which felt no need to be filled with forced chatter. Out here, away from the public plazas, there were far fewer people about; in fact, the streets were almost completely empty. Around them, the perpetual hum of Numentech filled the night with its mournful sound, seeming louder than usual in the absence of other sounds. Above, clouds shone silver in the light of the moon, and patches of black sky peeked out here and there between them. “Have you ever looked at the sky through a telescope?” she asked Light. “Hm?” “I did once,” she said. “When I was young. My parents took Clara and I to the observatory to look through the great telescope there. We couldn’t believe how many stars there were. So many more than what you can see with the naked eye.” “Oh?” Light glanced up at the hazy sky. “I didn’t know there were that many more.” “It’s because of the city lights,” Mem explained. “Arx Lucis is so bright, it makes it hard to see most of the stars. It’s like there’s a fog of light around us all the time that hides other lights.” “I suppose that might be the only benefit of living in Terra Tenebrae, then,” he said. “It’s darker, so you could see more stars.” “Yes,” Mem said reluctantly, feeling a little uneasy at the thought for some reason. “But I doubt anyone out there feels it’s worth the exchange.”
December 7, 2025 at 2:02 PM
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eliwoodsgheist.com
Happy #WIPSnips 7 - Empty!

Listen, I write horror, but nothing so horrifying as late stage capitalism
Edie couldn’t remember the last time she’d just sat and talked with someone. She’d been working herself raw under the looming threat of cutbacks. When Edie had gone under guillotine, all that extra-effort energy went into getting another job, and the more she fruitlessly put into that, the less time she found for anything else. The constant cycles of applications, interviews, and rejections left her too empty for anything except watching the trashiest television shows available, and ignoring the few people that still cared about her. And all this just to find another job where she barely saw the sun or dated or went out with friends, so she could spend her days staring at columns of numbers and talking to people she didn’t care about, in order to figure out the best pitch for products she thought were dumb or crass or both, to try to impress people who didn’t care about her, who in turn called her Addie.
December 7, 2025 at 2:57 PM
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woodenvelt.bsky.social
Wren & Co try to find lodgings at a town in the middle of their yearly watercress festival.

From book 2 of my romantasy wip about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #Wrencer
“So all the inns are booked and the pubs are selling space sleeping on the floor after last call,” Molly explained in between bites of some sort of piping hot fish chowder. “All the villagers have rented out their spare rooms and attics spaces if they’ve got them, but if we take the south road out of town, there’s still some farmers out there letting people pass the night in their barns.” “What about horses?” Wren asked, trying to squeeze into an even smaller ball around her bowl of soup as a line of people edged by behind them, looking for an empty table in the impromptu restaurant. The structure consisted of little more than a couple of tarps strung between poles and an open pit fire, with planks thrown over buckets for seats, but it was doing brisk business and the chowder was delicious. “There’s a posting house on the same road. The innkeeper spoke well of them, said they wouldn’t try to rent us any nags.” “Well, we were headed in that direction anyway.” Wren shrugged and sopped up the dregs of her bowl with a crust of bread. “We’ll pick up the horses, then ride out towards the farms and see if anyone will put us up for the night.” “So we’re turning south then taking Abbey Road?” Bruce confirmed as he started in on his second bowl of chowder, scooping up great heaping spoonfuls as he talked. “Mm-hmm,” Wren nodded, still chewing her last bit of bread. “The road ends at the Medicus Abbey, but there’s a village nearby and I’ve got a guide waiting for us there to take us the rest of the way. A few more days and we should be there.” “Gods willing,” Bruce closed his eyes and pressed his hands together as if he was praying. “This stuff’s pretty good, but what’re the green bits?” The mercenary swirled his bowl of chowder around, poking at it with his spoon. “I think it’s watercress,” Spencer replied, smirking as he dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief. “Of course it is,” the mercenary grumbled, dropping the bowl onto the table with a disgruntled thud.
December 7, 2025 at 5:31 PM
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papadjinn.bsky.social
Empty | Tok meets, and rescues, our good friend Aesus for the first time. The Zhaly is near dead, but he's a survivor deep down.
#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #bvm #bipoc #amwriting #Fantasy #SFF
For Tokonus the moment was bittersweet. Seeing the sudden spark of hope in Aesus’ eyes made him smile softly. It was the portrait of suffering that decorated the Zhaly that pained him. There was nothing that Tokonus could do to right the wrongs of the past, but it did not stop him from wishing he could. The horrors Aesus must have undergone – the other empty cages helped tell the story of his fate as well. There was nothing good that could have come from the evil of this dark crevice. Was this, too, the pain that the Ibo endured at the hands of Rodderick during their stay in his iron entrapments? “Pain come way... it come way from dis man... Thank you for dis joy...” “What happened here? Why were you locked away?” Othelia inquired.
December 7, 2025 at 8:21 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Because friends push each other to be brave… ❤️

@kleighdiaz.bsky.social
@professoremily.bsky.social
@reaper-man.bsky.social

I’m trying to do more art and maybe share some from time to time. Here is a very special lynx from my book.
A sketch of a lynx sitting behind a mossy log and some very lazily drawn grass. Pencils and erasers beside the sketchbook.
December 7, 2025 at 6:13 PM
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reaper-man.bsky.social
Oh to be a lil' fishercat,
Fishin' on the pier,
Wiggling his little tail,
To draw the fishies near.

🎣😺
A lil black and white cat in a red hoodie, fishing off a pier. There's some fish in the water and he's cracked open a cold can of milk.
December 7, 2025 at 3:39 PM
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sayaashrah.bsky.social
#WIPSnips 7. "Empty"

I can't resist sharing cute Ashtara moments 🥺🥰

#ChroniclesOfTheRealms #SayaAshrah #CaptainNitara #Ashtara #Lesfic #QueerWriters #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
Nitara buried her fingers in layers of soft hair, massaging Ashrah’s head. Despite all the battles still ahead of her, all the chaos raging outside her ship, the weight in her chest unspooled in a content sigh, washing her entire body in a wave of peace. “May I spend the day with you?” Her eyelids fluttered open, meeting the light in Ashrah’s eyes, so tender but bright enough to light up the entire room. “I’ll sleep, and you’ll get bored.” “I promise I will not.” She laid her head against Nitara’s chest. Closed her eyes. “Your body on mine, it warms me. But this fire does not hurt. I hear your heart beating, so close to my empty chest, and for these moments, it is as if I have a heart, too.”
December 7, 2025 at 12:22 PM
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kleighdiaz.bsky.social
#WIPSnips | empty

From my post-apocalyptic #WIP w/ a misfit trio of kids.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky #amwriting
Writing snippet: “It's here,” he said, tucking the map away. “This is it.” Lennie glanced around the clearing that housed the small building. There was nothing around, no signs of life. The remains of a charred campfire covered in fallen leaves. One window stood open, a frayed curtain blowing through in the frosty breeze. “Oh, Micah,” she whispered. He caught her eye and looked away again. “No, this is it.” He kept the bow low as he approached the door, but Lennie didn't follow; because she knew whatever was left in there was not what Micah had hoped to find, that it was either empty or home to a rotting corpse. There was no plan, no miraculous savior. But that was something he'd need to discover for himself.
December 7, 2025 at 11:13 AM
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eliwoodsgheist.com
Happy #Smutcember 6!

Luke and Isabelle have been in feelings-denial for weeks, but as Werewolves in the world of EYES SHINE SILVER IN MOONLIGHT, the full moon is helping...accelerate things 😏 Isabelle shows up at Luke's room, and he's definitely not mad about it.
“Did you want me to come here?” Isabelle finally asked. Her hand lifted, hesitating before her fingers could touch his bare chest. Luke wrapped his hand around hers, pressing her palm where she could feel his racing heart beneath his skin. “Of course I did," Luke murmured. "I just didn't know if you..." Luke could feel the heat radiating from Isabelle's body, could sense her moonlust taking over her as swiftly as it was rampaging through his blood. When her silver-slicked eyes met his, a tremor ran down his spine, heightened by her cherry lips meeting his. At her tongue’s insistent touch, he opened to her, devouring her. A small, pleading noise escaped her, and he pulled her tighter against him. When Luke’s mouth moved to her throat, his tongue running over the salt and roses of her skin, Isabelle pressed her lips to his ear.
December 6, 2025 at 1:56 PM
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audconnelly.bsky.social
#Smutcember: first kiss

I've shared Wesley/Owen's first kiss before but never Owen/Kenzie's in entirety because it's still a first draft BUT... I like that it's not a passionate collision but 2 people who've been very close for years just... calmly experimenting.

Dw it'll cook down in edits
he was going to walk out of her apartment and pick up right where he’d left off. And one day—soon, by the way things were escalating—he wasn’t going to have his phone on him, or he wasn’t going to be able to tell her where he was, or she wasn’t going to get there fast enough. And that would be it. There would be no more lying on the couch together watching the weather channel. Kenzie was not prone to outbursts of emotion. But she kissed him then, pushing up onto her knees to bring her mouth to his. If she’d surprised him, he recovered quickly. He dropped the flytrap and plunged his hand into her hair to cup her head. His hips and legs shifted expertly, making room for her between his thighs, space she could relax into, with the blanket still between them. His lips were like sun-warmed rose petals. His tongue was doing something interesting without going so far as to seem rude, and his hands pressed without groping. With a start, she realized he was good at kissing. That she was the less experienced one. Everything he did, every tilt of the head and brush of the hand, was accommodating. But then—he washed the dishes every time he came over, she did not know why he should kiss any differently. That did not make him any less eager. His heart galloped in her hand. His knees drew up and in, pressing against her, like it was not enough to simply hold her in his arms. They passed the first half of the morning lazily entwined on the couch with no real goal and no real hurry,
December 6, 2025 at 12:57 PM
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papadjinn.bsky.social
Hook | CW: violence, light gore, implied death - A battle has begun and blood will be drawn!
#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #bvm #bipoc #amwriting #Fantasy #SFF
First Re’Lu and then Ge’Fu powered through the screams and the bodies to make it past the gate as expected. It was the horse of Te’So, however, that caught an arrow in the chest, making the beast spasm and trip forward and unsaddling the Ak’haanas. The elder man scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could and brandished his hook sword. The armored men rushed him and were met by a demon, his arms swinging in arcs that split some and pummeled others. A spear buried itself into his side and became stuck in his powerful muscles. The man unfortunate enough to cause the wound was lifted from the ground by his skull. The guard’s head was crushed between powerful fingers, popping him like a grape in a vice. Once his body went limp, it was tossed at his allies to stagger them. Removing the spear from his body, the Ak’haanas hefted it at a man rushing him. The weapon caught its target, flung his body back as it impaled him. Te’So fought with all of his being, but blade after blade, arrow after arrow, and body after body slammed against him like a tidal wave. Te’so breathed in deep and bellowed out a sound like thunder that rocked the night and all who surrounded him. The roar of defiance that he howled made the Lumberians shiver to their core and only too late did they realize that it was a call to action. His body refused to fall to the ground and stood tall as his call was answered.
December 6, 2025 at 2:36 PM
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charliedeltawrites.bsky.social
December 6th – hook

Returning to the crew exploring an ancient draconic ruin.

Av’ry prepares to climb down a floor, and he can’t resist teasing Fox just a bit.

#DawnsBlood

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
“No time to waste, then. How’s your climbing these days, Ave?” Fox asked. He spit on his hands and moved out to the edge of the chasm. “Worry about the rope, not me. Think it’s long enough?” “It had better be.” Setting down the torch and reaching into his bag, Av’ry extracted another tube, cracking it to release the chemiluminescent glow. He shook it vigorously, then hooked it to his belt. “I guess there is only one way to find out.” Dangling his legs over the chasm, Av’ry wrapped the coil around one leg to take his weight and slid over the edge. “Hey, wait, let me…” “You don’t always get to go first, Fox. And I am the one with the light.” “Fine.” She chewed the corner of her lip. “Shout when you reach the next level.” “Of course. And I’ll scream if I fall. So, either way you’ll know.” Fox scowled at him. “Just hurry up.”
December 6, 2025 at 8:43 AM
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kleighdiaz.bsky.social
#WIPSnips | hook

Umm idk what to tell you about this one. It's what came to mind when I saw “hook.” Shrimp being weird…again. 😅👽

From my post-apocalyptic #WIP w/ a misfit trio of kids (one a little stranger than the rest).

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky #amwriting
Writing snippet: Micah pierced the wriggling worm onto the hook just as Lennie dropped hers for the second time, cursing. He glanced over. “Need help?” “I can do it,” she said, picking up the bait again. “Damn, wriggly mother—” “Yeah, I'll help,” Micah said, setting the rod on a stone beside him. He sat next to her, took the hook and worm from her muddy fingers, slid the little thing on and handed the rod back. “Thanks,” she mumbled. Then her eyes went over Micah's shoulder to where Shrimp stood, Micah's line and hook in hand, as he dangled the worm over his open mouth. “Shrimp, don't!” But he'd already dropped the worm, hook and all. He smiled at her for a moment. Then frowned.
December 6, 2025 at 9:22 AM
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tarasgeir.bsky.social
Closest I have is 'curve' for todays #WIPSnips. Halla remembers when she once saw one of the river monsters, the waden. #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
The waden were something Halla rarely saw as they were invisible. They guarded the Sixth Sister, preventing her from ever escaping via the water. The only time Halla ever caught a glimpse of the waden was after they'd eaten. A lone finger or the curve of a shoulder. Once she'd seen the face of a waden. It must have eaten recently, something huge. As a clerk, she heard stories of fishers on the river who fell from their boats and never emerged, or adventurous children who climbed on top of the river defences, and then there were executions. No one was ever killed by hanging, or fire, decapitation or any other method. They were always drowned. More food for the waden. There'd been a rebellion in the Orbo, more demands for better conditions and it had ended with the riot leaders being pushed from the bridge as the city watched. And that feast had given the waden a face. A smooth, glassy exterior with no features but a mouth. A wide, open mouth full of long, piercingly white teeth.
December 6, 2025 at 9:35 AM
Reposted by Pame-fa-la-la 🎄 la-la-la-Jeong
sayaashrah.bsky.social
#WIPSnips 6. "Hook"

"You always said that I'd come back to you again
'Cause everybody needs a friend, it's true
Someone to quiet the voices in my head
Make 'em sing to me instead, it's you" 🎶

#ChroniclesOfTheRealms #BattlemageAskaly #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
When they were both already sweating and panting, the cryomancer whirled around and yelled, “Why are you following me?” “My heart told me to follow you, and so that’s what I’m doing.” A stupid answer, but it was the truth. “We can talk, if you want.” “Talk?” Xiuying scoffed. “I don’t need to talk, I need to punch something. Or someone. Are you offering yourself up for that, too?” “If it will help.” She frowned. Askaly raised her fists. “I mean it. Come on.” Still suspecting some mischief but unable to pass on such a good offer, Xiuying came at her, arms trembling as she threw one punch after the other. Askaly evaded or blocked with her palms, giving the other girl something solid to hit even though those bony knuckles hurt more than she had expected. No weapons, no magic, no fancy moves. Just jab, jab, hook, jab, each fistful of grief accompanied by a cry of anger. “Fight back, damn you!” Xiuying yelled.
December 6, 2025 at 11:55 AM
Reposted by Pame-fa-la-la 🎄 la-la-la-Jeong
professoremily.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writers #writesky

Constance Blake takes one of her newborn twin daughters (but which one?? 😈) to an illegal forger to get her a fake charagma.

From #Charagma, my SFF dystopia where all people are marked saved or damned from birth.
She gestured for Constance to lay the baby on the workbench, then went to a nearby shelf to gather her tools. Though it pained her to let go of her sweet girl, Constance reluctantly pulled her out of the sling and laid her down on the blanket, prying her fingers away from the chubby fist that clutched at them. As soon as the girl lost the touch of her mother, she began to grumble, then to cry. The other girl, still secured snugly in the sling, also began to cry in sympathy with her twin. “The trick is in the ink,” the forger woman went on, unbothered by the twins’ wailing. She brought back an elaborate machine with a long cord hooked to a slender appendage almost like a pen, but ending with a fine needle-point rather than a nib. Beside it, she lay a bottle full of pale glowing fluid whose light seemed to pulse faintly. “Plain liquid numen—like what they use to infuse the food—it looks fine in ordinary light. But under certain lights it reacts differently than a real charagma. Most couldn’t see it with their naked eye, but the Shepherds’ lenses can pick it up. That’s why we have our own recipe.” “Will it hurt her?” Constance asked, gently stroking her crying daughter’s head, brushing her thumb over the place where her charagma should have been. “Yes,” said the woman, without bothering to soften it. “It will hurt her quite a bit. But that is the price if you want her to live a normal life. A few minutes of pain for a lifetime of peace.” “Until she dies,” Constance whispered. “Until she dies,” the woman agreed grimly,
December 6, 2025 at 1:29 PM