iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

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K.A. Hela ✨ Finally Querying✨ @jundlife.bsky.social · 04/08/2025

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.

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Daughter of WW2 vets. Fuck fascism! @42sms1701.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

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.”

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Maxime Jaz🌈🏳️‍⚧️ @maximejaz.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#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.”

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

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.”

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Cameron A Malin @camalin.net · 03/08/2025

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.

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Robin Herbert @peterrobin.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#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.

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💀🫜 Charlie (Chelizabeth) Delta 🦊👻 @charliedeltawrites.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

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.”

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Finn McLellan @saranadosfiction.com · 03/08/2025

#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.”

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Jan Karlsson @jangoeswriting.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

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.

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Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈 @woldry.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

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.

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Aaron Sher @aaronsher.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

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.

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L.L. Stephens @triempery.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#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….

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MrOmega @mr0mega.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#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.

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Marine St. Jean @marinestjean.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#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.

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Erika Chandler @erikachandler.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

“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

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roz is here & not here 🪄🌹🦇🫧 | Rozlai Eyler @starbuds-and-roses.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

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.

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Cameron A Malin @camalin.net · 03/08/2025

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.

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Amelia Sandrine Reisinger 🏳️‍⚧️ @ameliasandrine.com · 03/08/2025

#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."

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Cassidy Percoco @mimicofmodes.com · 03/08/2025

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.

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Pamela Jeong 🎃🫜 @pamelajeong.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

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.

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🫜Prof Emily🫜 @professoremily.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#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.”

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Nicole "Ashrah" Hidalgo 😈🧄👻 @sayaashrah.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#WIPSnips 3. "Trend" Didn't think I'd have this one at all, but Book 3 of World Without Love saved me. You can bet people living in the Aphrocalypse still care about looking fashionable! #WorldWithoutLove #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

Briaca seized the gap that opened for Aalis to spur Persé through the crowd and settle at her place beside, but a little behind, the Charis. Aalis half-turned towards the general, a smile colouring her pale face. She conserved the appearance of a twenty-something-year-old girl, and her hair, smooth and white as foam, set a trend across Soliakó. But that smile… there was something indescribably old about it, older than her hundreds of years. Not in a bad way, no, but in a way that said, “I have seen the world, and I know everything will be all right.”
Perhaps Aalis was right, and all it would take for people to forget this new rebellion was to feel Aphrodite’s Love emanating off her.

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Kira of the Wind (Erika McCorkle) @kiraofthewind.com · 03/08/2025

#WIPSnips #BookSky #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #snippet For a moment in history, it was trendy and fashionable to wear hats with wide brims and a variety of fake fruits, veggies, animals, feathers, etc. on it. A haberdasher came to the inn when Grilled was very young and started his love for hats

She flicked her fingers as if shooing him away. “No, dear boya, not unless you can convince your innmaster to buy one of my hats. Aya, don’t you think she’d be pretty in a nice fruit hat? They’re very trendy right now with fashionable ladies in the big cities. And she tells me you’re all named after vegetables. Why, imagine if she had a hat with a ring of shallots around the brim for herself and closer to her ears were the vegetables representing her family? Saints bless, but I want to make it!”
“Wouldn’t they rot after a while?” Grilled asked. Shallot had a lot of hats already, but they were fairly plain, brown and black Mornese brimmed hats, and she only wore them when going out to town.

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🫜Prof Emily🫜 @professoremily.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#MythAugust 3 The gods in my #Atlantis trilogy are a big mix of morals. The vast majority I'd say fall into the neutral category: kind to their particular favorites, but not exactly "good" or "bad" beyond that. Some, however, lean more clearly on the good/evil side. 1/8 #WritingCommunity #Writesky

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Justine Lombardi @jlombardi.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

Text-to-voice is the writer's friend. I catch most of my silly mistakes when listening to Word's Narrator function.

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chickpeaiswriting.bsky.social @chickpeaiswriting.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

Allians (and All-Sonians) believe that the All created the universe and is the source of everything good in it. They continuously reinterpret the All's objectives to align with their evolving ethics. For e.g., animal sacrifice --> first fruits --> humble worship clothing & prayer for others

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🫜Prof Emily🫜 @professoremily.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#MythAugust Day 3 Tell me about your gods' moral alignment! Do their morals align with humanity's? Would they be considered "evil" by human standards? Or are they neutral/have their own set of rules? If you have multiple gods, are they all the same or a mix? #WritingCommunity #Writers #Writesky

#MythAugust prompt for Aug 3:
How does your deities' sense of morality align with that of people? i.e. Are they moral, immoral, amoral, a mix...?

Background image features a classic painting of Thor wielding his hammer with lightning, about to smote his enemies.
Below the hashtag in small text it says "Presented by @professoremily.bsky.social."
At the bottom of the image in small text it says "Feel free to yap about a fantasy mythology you already have, or use these prompts to create a new one! Don't forget to interact with others :-)"

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Headless🎃Horsewoman🪉💎🏹🐴⚔️ @acturek.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#WIPSnips #fantasy #WriteSky #WritingCommunity I don’t have #trend in my WIP, but I have fashion. It seems to be Cerel’s week, so let’s have a look at him. From Brother’s Keeper, book one of my fantasy WIP about two brothers born into a misunderstood power.

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Cerel was walking slowly toward them with his
bay mare, Lalash, at his shoulder and Lara beside him with pearlescent Nuömar. He wore the green and blue of the Loëthgils and carried his bow and long knife. Though
hollow-eyed with grief, he had regained some of his color and strode with assurance.

He was winsome in all the
ways that charmed the ladies, with wide cheekbones and a
strong jaw that tapered to a well-defined chin.
He wore his thick, golden yellow hair short in open defiance of fashion, declaring to the world that he would be a leader,
not a follower.

Brother's Keeper
A.C. Turek

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Amber Hathaway, Little White Flowers author @amber-hathaway.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

From Book 1. The joys of 2008 fashion 😂 The roller bumped Riley's shoulder as he lowered it. “Going all-in on the paint splatters trend, I see,” she said. He grinned. “I'll be the most fashionable person for miles by the time we're done.” #WIPSnips

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Amelia Sandrine Reisinger 🏳️‍⚧️ @ameliasandrine.com · 03/08/2025

The #WIPSnips word for August 3rd is “trend” Lost the one instance of it in revisions, so going with “fashion” which is one of the many areas Freja and Chloé can’t find common ground on early in the story.

I've never seen her wear anything but practice gear, so I'm pretty sure she doesn't share my interest in fashion. And based on that insipid ringtone of hers, she has horrible taste in music. So we skate. I point out areas she can improve. She thanks me politely for the advice. And we get back to work.

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Pixies a/k/a Map Nerd @mcburnellauthor.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#WIPSnips 'trend' oofta

It was a tiny thing to stack on the scales against her guilt. It was a trend she had been watching for a while now with unease, but only now did she come to articulate it: the more trouble mages caused, and the more monumental the mistakes they made, the more powerful they became. Not just in terms of strange abilities reawakened by the Mage-Killer, but in mundane, worldly ways. Perhaps they had always had the power to exercise this degree of power, but once, they had refrained. This was no longer the case, and she wasn’t immune to it.

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Kara Moon 🏴‍☠️💜⚓️ @karamoonauthor.com · 03/08/2025

#writinglifemonthly It's a bit long, but I wanted to show a chunk of the scene: unrequited love at first sight... from Marcie 🧛🥀🕊️ my vampire novella currently in revision

1.
She was tall, with limbs too thin and light. The last light of day shone behind her in the doorway, setting what I thought was dark hair aflame. As the curtain shut behind her, I saw it was a colour perfectly between: a gold too burnished to be blonde, a brown too light and mellifluous to be brunette. Strands of it fell down to cup her face, too short to be pulled back with the rest of her hair which was bundled artlessly back. She had a strikingly handsome face of indeterminate age, smooth and yet too commanding to be youthful. She wore a flowing dress of blue-gray linen so light that it moved like water with every step. Her deep red cloak, the colour of a fresh and deadly battlefield, hung over shoulders unexpectedly architectural with bony strength. She wore no adornments, which was unlike most women of this city; but she wore her lack with the bearing of a queen.

As she passed to take a seat in a dark corner, I clutched to the bar, setting down my collected tray of used vessels before I could drop it. My knees were betraying me, calling on me to grovel on the floor before her.

None of this was right. The bar smelled of smoke and cheap alcohol; the early patrons were too raucous, my old favourites like the gruff aged satyr who I usually shared an easy joke with was laughing too loud in her presence; no one was playing music yet (though if they had been I suppose they would have played some bawdy tune that would have been ill-fitting); I could see puddles of condensation and food crumbs on the benches - none of this was good enough for the woman now settling in my dingy taberna, far as she could be from the nearest wall sconce.

2.
It was still too light for my father to be out serving patrons, and I was of an age now where he expected me to play the hostess. So it was that, whether I wanted it or not, it was my duty to greet her and learn what she wanted. I emptied my tray of cups, then paced over with it held over my abdomen, as if I needed a shield of sorts between the woman and myself.

"Good evening. My name is Marcia, how might I -"

"Where is Gaius? Is this still his establishment?" Her voice was low and hard. A stone came to mind, heavy and smooth, and I the flour all too eager to be ground down by repeat listening.

I had paused too long. In the way that a sparrow tilts its head to one side to regard something, the woman looked at me. But her storm-cloud eyes were not those of a sparrow; rather she was a hawk.

"Y-yes, this is still Gauis's establishment. He will be down shortly. Can I get you something to drink, while you wait for him?"

I stood affixed to the spot by her intense gaze. Before I could decide whether it was fury, disgust, or some other emotion unbeknownst yet to me in my inexperience with life, she looked away, and said only, "Red wine."

She barely touched the wine I served her. I know this because whenever I was not serving someone else or cleaning the bar, my eyes stole over in her direction, taking in every detail I could about her. When Gaius came down, I listened as close as I could, which was how I learned her name.

"Neith!" he cried out with far more exuberance than was returned.

Neith. So there was the name engraved of my heart from the beginning of time; I needed to hear it, as I was illiterate yet to the language of that organ.

She rose to receive him at her table, but I noticed that he did not embrace her, as he embraced many of our patrons. They held a quiet, intense and stilted conversation for a hour, perhaps a little more. I watched, my distraction earning me stern words from some of the regulars from time to time. When she spoke, Neith seemed to grow taller where she sat. Though her words were too low and quiet to reach me, the rhythm of her speech was full of cautious meditation. When she listened, it was as if nothing in the world but Gaius existed. Her body was still, her long, thin hands pointed toward him on the table, her eyes locked on, invested in his every word. I wished so desperately that it were I being pinned in place by her eyes, rather than my father.

Then, with no great fanfare, her seat was vacated. I caught the red of her cloak, the gold of the back of her head as she strode out of the taberna. The curtain's fall back into place wrenched my insides.

Gaius joined me at the bar. I took a moment to swallow my heart back down.

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Cassidy Percoco @mimicofmodes.com · 03/08/2025

I went with "style", as I had no "trend"s! #WIPSnips #WriteSky

The parlor for cocktails before dinner was a different one from the afternoon-tea parlor, a grander one with more expensive furniture in the newest style and flat, polished wood paneling on the walls. Albert was ensconced behind a bar built from the same bright wood paneling, filling up a shaker with ice and speaking animatedly at a tall man with scrupulously correct posture and a fair-haired woman in a glittering gold gown, both facing away from the door.

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Alyssa Lauseng 🖕🏻🧊 @5feetofredfury.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #writingprompt Talismans of Sin (I used "popular" instead 😅)

Still, Obito had to ask, “What makes you think it was her and not Senator Ming?”
“Did you smell that when I moved the blankets? It’s plum blossom perfume.”
“And how would you know?”
“There’s a group of women who like to talk to me whenever we’re on morning patrols—you’re usually too far ahead of me by the time we’re near their brothel to notice them, but I promise they’re nice. You should stick around sometime. Anyway, the plum blossom perfume’s been popular this year, so they all wear it. It’s heavy.”
“I almost hate to say it—”
“—What? Come on, that was—”
“—I know. I was about to say it’s a solid observation, and I think you’re right.” Obito held back a laugh when Daisuke glared at him.

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Khonri 🫜🎃 @khonri.com · 03/08/2025

I will indeed loudly describe character features because I like picturing characters as authors intended. #WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky

Fioné Voss was a few moons younger than Zola, more of an average Fannaren with stronger northwestern Dolybian descent. She had warm, fair ivory skin patterned heavily with freckles all over, of which the ones on her face she made effort to hide with foundation; currently loosely curled and thick red-orange hair that reached the middle of her back; bright, sky blue eyes that competed with Mana's red ones for most noticeable feature of their group at first glance. Although her height marked her as the shortest of them and hardly making it to a solid five-foot-three, her build was more attention grabbing than she openly wanted: a very large chest, wide hips, and a narrow waist that emphasized her other features further by fashion trends year after year.
While that specific observation seemed like one that of course a man would make, the Fioné behind closed doors was more than happy to embrace the attention, leading to a portion of the day's predicament.

A halfbody art piece of Fioné Voss, a young woman with a curvy, very hourglass build, long red-orange curly hair, sky blue eyes, and light makeup. She's wearing a yellow ribbed crop top with a blue and pink windbreaker with Lisa Frank inspired trim/inner liner, and grey jeans. Her hands are up towards her face and she's giggling as her Zefhond, a wind beluan that looks like a green corgi, runs circles around her in the air. Art commissioned from bsky user birdko.bsky.social.

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Kim Findlay (she/her) @authorkimfindlay.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

I flipped open the flaps and found scrapbooks. Not the current trendy kind with special paper and whatever. These were old fashioned, blank pages covered with clippings. Restraining my curiosity, I passed it to Justin. He set it on his lap and opened it. I peeked at the pages as he stared. #wipsnips

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Kara Moon 🏴‍☠️💜⚓️ @karamoonauthor.com · 03/08/2025

From Rainbow Stars Unite! 🌈✨️⚔️ my magical girl short story, second draft, which I handed in to my critique group late last night

Look, I need you to know one thing, all right? We didn't write the song. It's embarrassing, but some people we saved once wrote us a theme song, and unfortunately, it stuck. The instrumentation is so retro, and not in a good way. The lyrics are godawful. And the rhythm of the rhyme scheme? A waking nightmare. But I shouldn't be so mean. It's not like I could write anything even close to it. Besides, the band are just kids like us, but from another school. I feel like I maybe even saw them there tonight, screaming in the crowd at the town square as the Inklings defeated us. I hope they're all okay.

But I digress - the song. As if everyone associating the song with us wasn't bad enough, Emerald Star kept playing it on loop for about a week after it released. So at the slightest provocation, I can get it stuck in my head all over again.

Like right now.

Weirdly though, it feels like the exact thing I need. Earnest. Adoring. Cringe. It could be the only thing which keeps me together through what's about to befall me.

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B. van Bodegom 📃is AGENTED @bvbodegom.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#WIPSnips from HAPPY DEATH INC. BLACK MIRROR × SEVERANCE × SORRY TO BOTHER YOU #WritingCommunity #amwriting #specfic #scifi #satire

There was something to be said about the technology and comforts made available to the employees of Happy Death Incorporated. It had, in no small part, had a direct influence on Wren's choice to send in his application. Getting a company car, tablet, and hair product was among some of the best benefits one could hope for these days. Of course, they'd come as advances as you advanced within the company. So far, he was glad to be able to wear his hair the way he did: styled in a retro dark blond pompadour, fixated in place by company-sponsored hairspray.

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🌚Sam (SK Kelley)🌝 @skkelleywrites.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

#WIPSnips “trend” Apparently, “trend” never appears in any of the Sidetracked books, so here’s a snippet from Something Familiar.

"What sort of party is this, again?"

His voice spooked me. It was unnaturally crisp against the loud, busy atmosphere in Jenna's living room. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching me. Then I hissed, "One you're not invited to," under my breath.

"Ohh." He laughed. "I see how it is."

I was at Jenna's New Year's sleepover party. She's hosted one every year since eighth grade, and each one was roughly the same—listen to trendy music, eat food, watch a recording of the New York ball drop, and play "Never Have I Ever" to gauge how our lives changed over the past year before passing out on the living room floor sometime before 6AM.

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M.M. Rees @mm-rees.bsky.social · 02/08/2025

From my rewrite of The Oracle’s Journey. Ozanna’s POV. I fixed a lot of writing problems in this scene, so I’m sharing a long passage. Mind you, it hasn’t seen an editor yet. 😅 Here’s art as a bonus! #wipsnips #writingcommunity #writesky #romantasy

12:12
الده
84
didn't have to work as hard to climb, though she didn't seem to need much help. She scrambled ahead of me like a squirrel.
Once over the edge of the ridge, I aimed us toward the road. I had intended to let the guards know I had the princess so they could retreat, but they were fully engaged in surviving the wyvern. There was no getting their attention.
Then came a roaring gust of air, like the whoosh of a great bellows, moments before scythe like claws gripped the ravine lip. The father wyvern slithered over the edge on our heels, propelling himself forward on the long, webbed fingers of his wings. Faster than a creature that size had any right to be, he was just a blur of red feathers and green scales.
I drew a dagger from my vest and braced myself for the inevitable. It would only annoy him if, by some miracle, I struck him, but it was the best I could do in my terror. I pulled Emmelina close, to shield her with my body, and threatened the beast with the dagger in my trembling right hand. Then it was just a matter of closing my eyes and waiting for claws and teeth to rend my flesh and crush my bones.
Instead, there was a snuffling sound, and its breath tickled along my knuckles. After a few roaring heartbeats of confusion, I dared to open one eye. He greeted me with a curious tilt of his red, feathered head, and studied us with huge, copper and gold-flecked eyes. The dark green scales of his flesh had a peculiar pearlescent sheen that shifted from pale blue to shades of pink. Of course, I was too dumbstruck to appreciate any of it in the moment. I just gaped at the creature in terror and awe.
He was simply magnificent.
Then his eyes drifted to the young woman at my side.

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Ray Ingles @ringles.bsky.social · 02/08/2025

#WIPSnips 2: engage Jim's mere existence causes problems for a bunch of people in the new timeline. Especially for those studying him. #ScienceFiction #SciFiBooks #IndieBooks

A very fraught pause. Then Baiyokee hissed, “I almost wish you were not [my fiancée].”[1] Addressing Atosho but exchanging a glance with me. His voice was controlled, despite being clearly enraged.

[1] That might sound a little mild to your ears, dear reader, but it was actually quite serious. An official engagement–especially between clans, not cousins and such within the clan–was a significant matter. Criticism of the betrothed was… discouraged. Except that managing to phrase it diplomatically was acceptable, and here gossip and stories and jokes revolved around especially good ‘polite zingers.’ Yet even hinting at displeasure about the actual engagement itself was much more fraught. What he said here was about as far as you could go without openly declaring war, so to speak.

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