iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 09/10/2026

From CultWIP first draft. A child from a different religious order has gone missing, and the Seekers, under the queen's command, have taken over the search. Obviously they suspect their enemies are behind it. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

“I told you my name is Callix,” the Seeker said. “And you never told me yours.”

“Because I don't think that's relevant information to you.” Rowan paused, watching the man's body language. He was not coiled and on edge as Rowan was, assessing every little thing in the forest. He was calm, collected, almost appearing bored with the interaction. “Are we done now? Or would you like to continue your meaningless interrogation? I have nothing of substance to offer you.”

The Seeker – Callix, if that's what he demanded to be called – cracked his neck and leaned against the tree, crossing his arms over his chest. Too at ease. He wasn't worried for his safety at all. “Your Order has been rather quiet lately,” he said. “Most Rekshimyr Orders have been, actually. No raids or riots, no destruction of S'kekshayran temples. I haven't even seen any of you in the city recently.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Okay. So what's the question?”

Callix shrugged. “Not really a question. More of a comment. The queen grows concerned when she hasn't heard from certain citizens of Vayashtos in a while, and with the child missing…well, you can imagine. She's been very on edge.”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 08/10/2026

veil or a headdress depending on the occasion. Natalia and Rowan do not have any jewelry. There's actually this interaction that Rowan has with Callix early on concerning jewelry.

“Are you stupid?” Rowan asked.

The Seeker's eyes widened, startled, but they still glimmered with amusement. “Pardon?”

Rowan reached for the loose chain bracelet dangling from the man's wrist and yanked it toward him. “Do you not see how easily I could subdue you in battle with all this ridiculous shit you're wearing?” His fingers curled around the man's wrist. “You are deliberately putting yourself at a disadvantage, and for what? So that you can make sure everyone in a ten-mile radius can tell you're S'kekshayra's whelp?”

The man's expression shifted only a little – a slight twitch at his right eye betraying his growing irritation. “Well,” the Seeker said, placing his hand over Rowan’s and pulling it away from his hideous adornments, “lucky for me, we're not in battle.” His tone was mocking. He clearly didn't see Rowan as a serious adversary.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 08/10/2026

Lizard --> snake Reposting this with trigger warnings: mentions of violence, corpses, and dismemberment From the first draft of CultWIP. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

In between each room was a painting or tapestry depicting scenes from historical battles or the battle-scarred faces of Rekshimyr's most blessed generals and priests. One of the paintings showed the slaying of Halykos, the old death god lying on a pile of corpses and bones with his eyes full of terror and his arms outstretched to his attacker, begging for mercy. Close by, the earth had opened up its gaping maw, and in the dark abyss of its hungry mouth lay the souls of the damned. The wispy figures curled around each other like smoke, their eye sockets empty and dark and their jaws unhinged like snakes, frozen in silent screams as their desperate hands clawed at the pieces of Halykos's body that had already been severed and discarded. This was what had set off the first War of the Gods and invoked S'kekshayra's wrath.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 07/10/2026

Comparison --> compare From CultWIP first draft, right after Rowan and Callix fight the shadow creatures. #WIPSnips #writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompts

For a long while, they just stood there, with nothing but their own weary breaths to break the silence. Rowan destroyed his sword – an act that was far less painful than creating it – and waited as his heart slowed and his breathing returned to normal. There was blood all over him, oozing from cuts and scrapes and a long gash that one of the creatures had slashed into his left leg. It hurt to put weight on it, but it was manageable. Barely a scratch compared to some injuries he had endured in the past.

Callix was the first to break the silence. “Are you okay?”

Rowan glanced at him, wary. No one had ever asked him that after a fight. If he was too injured to go on, he simply went to their healers. If he wasn't, he kept fighting. And he always kept fighting. Admitting that it was too much was admitting weakness, and Rekshimyr's followers could not be weak.

“Yes,” he answered. “Why would I not be?”

“Because I'm sure as shit not,” Callix said. “I have to imagine you're doing worse considering you made all of that.”

“I'm fine,” Rowan said.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 05/10/2026

From CultWIP. Rowan returns late and empty-handed. Natalia waited up for him, but so did Father Silas. #WIPSnips #writingprompts #writingcommunity #writesky

“Is he angry?” he asked.

Natalia shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting away and refusing to return. “He had to postpone the cleansing ceremony. A lot of people are angry. I heard Alec tell Mother and Father that he thinks you're fucking up Rekshimyr's awakening, and he thinks it's because they were too soft on you growing up. They were humiliated. They went back to their chambers, and I haven't seen them since.”

His parents were humiliated by him all the time, every single day that it was their son that lived and not their god, so he wasn't concerned about what they thought of him. “Father Silas…” he said. “Is he angry?”

Natalia chewed her bottom lip and suddenly found a loose string on her shirt very fascinating. “He's furious. Not the yelling, throwing things, smacking people around kind of furious. The calm and quiet furious, where you can't really tell he's mad unless you know him really well. I could see the vein pulsing in his temple though. It's the size of a damn worm.”

Rowan sighed and leaned back against the wall next to Natalia, folding his arms over his knees. “That's what I thought.”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 03/10/2026

Had a rough start to the morning and almost didn't go on the hike, but I'm so glad we did! I'm tired and sore, but I think it's worth it.

A large waterfall surrounded by trees and a lake

Trinket, a brindle and white hound, standing on a rock and smiling at the camera

A calm river around piles of rocks in the middle of a forest

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

Hi everyone! I'm MK. She/her. I write primarily fantasy romance but sometimes dabble in just romance. Currently working on a queer enemies-to-lovers fantasy romance about two opposing cults. Thanks for hosting this, @pamelajeong.bsky.social! ☺️

A literary this or that challenge with my answers as follows: PAPERBACK vs hardcover, SERIES vs standalone, LAUGHS vs tears, COFFEE vs tea, HERO vs villain, CHARACTER DRIVEN vs plot driven, COMPUTER vs pen and paper, SWEET vs salty, SILENCE, vs soundtrack, DOG-EAR vs bookmark, PANTSER vs plotter, MINIMALIST vs lush, SLOW CRAFT vs vomit draft, MIDNIGHT vs morning

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

Happy spooky season everyone! From the first draft of CultWIP. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky

Pain coursed through Rowan, so intense it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. He reeled, pressing his hand to Callix's chest to try to regain his balance, but the world was tilted, swirling. He was on a sinking ship, quickly approaching the waves that would pull him under. “Don't,” he hissed, and before he knew it, he was on his back instead, Callix's thighs bracketing his hips as he pinned Rowan's hands above his head, and there was a searing pain in his wrist that he didn't recognize.

“You fucking burned me!” he yelled, thrashing against the weight on top of him. He stared at the raw pink flesh, freshly blistered and oozing a little. The acrid smell filled his nose, nearly masking the scent of Callix's magic, which had been dizzying and pungent when the sun had been out. Now, it was barely noticeable, even as Callix held a flame in his free hand, flickering dangerously close to Rowan's face.

“You tried to stab me!” Callix yelled back. His grip on Rowan's hands was still firm, but his thumb was gentle as it brushed lightly over the injury. Still, the feel of it made Rowan flinch. “It's not as bad as it looks.” Callix's voice had softened too. He extinguished the flame in his hand, leaving them in near darkness. “I'm sure your healers have something that can clear it up really fast.”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 29/09/2026

Anisa, Natalia's sort of partner, has just informed her that the elders of the Order have commanded her marriage to another woman. They fight about it. From CultWIP first draft. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

A tear rolled down Natalia’s cheek. “We could leave together, Anisa. You and me and Rowan and –”

“Stop it!” Anisa screamed, tossing one of her shoes back to the ground in her rage. She had her teeth bared, her fists clenched. Natalia recoiled, pressing herself as close to the wall as she possibly could as silent tears continued to fall. “You are weak in faith, and I refuse to spend the rest of my life with someone as skeptical and disobedient as you. Leave if you must, but you will not drag me or anyone else down with you. Especially your brother. He is Rekshimyr’s perfect plan, and I will be by his side when doomsday arrives.”

“Holy hells, okay,” Natalia said, barking a humorless laugh. “Fine. You do that, Anisa. Fall on your own blade for a god who doesn’t even know your fucking name. If that’s the life you want, then who am I to stop you?” She stood as well, making her way toward the door. This was her room, a shared room with four other people. She would have to sleep next to Anisa for the next several nights until she was married and moved in with Petra. If this was High Priest Silas raining wrath upon her once more, then he had finally won.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 28/09/2026

Got this really cute little RPG to play with the dogs when we walk them. They get stats based on traits, training, tricks they know, etc., and you have to complete challenges on the "quest" to "buy" items and upgrades and such. It's adorable.

A notepad of Barkane, a RPG you play with your dog on their walks. A game by Seppy Yoon and Mark Eberhardt

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 28/09/2026

Prime --> prepare This is directly after another snip I posted a few days ago, when Father Silas punished Rowan for not complying with his orders. From CultWIP first draft. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

“You were so confident before you left,” Father Silas said, crouching beside him. He offered a hand to Rowan, and tentatively, Rowan took it with his uninjured hand and pulled himself to a sitting position. “What happened?”

Callix happened. He had confused Rowan, addled his brain, said things that he would never believe a Seeker would say. He talked, he insulted, and Rowan, despite his rage, despite everything he had ever been taught, had been a fool, transfixed and hanging on every last word that dripped from the damn viper’s mouth. Hatred burned low in his gut.

“I attacked him, Father,” Rowan said. “I intended to kill him, but my mental fortifications were not as strong as I thought they were. I failed you, and I failed Rekshimyr.”

“You did,” Father Silas said. “You will do well not to underestimate our enemies. We are strong, but so are they. When Rekshimyr ascends, we will surely have our work cut out for us, but we will conquer. We will thrive. That is why I do these things.” He gestured to Rowan’s arm. “I must teach you. I must prepare you. I do not take pleasure in seeing you writhe in pain, but it is what must be done.”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 27/09/2026

Rowan has a unique ability that's debilitating to everyone around him, including himself. From the first draft of CultWIP. #WIPSnips #writingprompts #writingcommunity #writesky

“If he doesn't hate you, then he's just a piece of shit,” Callix said. They were back to back now, weapons raised, surrounded by the creatures that remained. A few were still crawling from their shadowy depths, but they had slowed considerably. Rowan had managed to calm down. His heartbeat was steady, his thoughts were no longer muddled. He was in his element here. Rekshimyr just needed to remind him of himself, that was all. He needed to sharpen his focus. A blessing and a curse.

“You have no right to say that,” Rowan said. “You just don't get it.”

“Then explain it to me.” Callix swung his weapon, taking out two more of the shapeless beasts. “Tell me why a god who supposedly loves you and takes care of you would give you this power.”

“Because he wants to strengthen me! He wants me to be ready when he comes back.”

“And does he do that to everyone?”

Rowan hesitated. He was giving away too much information. This entire trip had been a complete failure on his part. He had wronged the High Priest, wronged his Order, wronged Rekshimyr. He was the one to blame for Rekshimyr’s delay.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 26/09/2026

Observe --> watch TW for mention of animal sacrifice, self-mutilation, and scars From the first draft of CultWIP. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky

“I always imagined Rekshimyr’s rituals involved lots of animal slaughter and blood and entrails,” the Seeker said as he picked up one of the berries to examine it. After a moment, he decided it was safe, then popped it into his mouth. “That’s what he likes, isn’t it? For you to spill your blood for him?”

“Never unnecessarily,” Rowan replied. The Seeker's gaze fell to his mouth again then back up to meet his eyes, so quick Rowan might have missed it if he hadn't already been watching him so intently. The scars on his face had never been something he'd been insecure about before; they were proof of his resilience, proof of his determination to persist, to bend but never break. They were proof of his devotion to his god's plans and how he fit into them. But each time the Seeker focused on them, something squirmed in his gut that he was absolutely certain he should not be feeling. Shame. Humiliation. A desire to hide. He just doesn't understand, he told himself.

So show him, something else whispered within him. Let him see there is beauty in pain.

“I wouldn't expect you to get it, Seeker,” Rowan said.

“I told you my name is Callix,” the Seeker said. “And you never told me yours.”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

Nation --> country Callix's mom is berating him for being two hours late to a meeting. From CultWIP first draft. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky

The corner of her eye twitched. “Do you actually care about what we're doing here?” she asked as she rounded the table, approaching him. “Because it certainly seems like you're making a mockery of our goddess and of me. Each time you fail to obey me, it's a mark of shame that I wear like a scar for everyone to see.”

Callix swallowed, watching as she tapped her fingers against the edge of the desk. Her nails were long and painted a deadly red, weapons all on their own.

“Of course I care,” he said. He would never let her know his true thoughts about the Seekers. That would be her greatest shame, to know how little respect her only living son had for her and this useless organization. They were nothing but obnoxious, self-important stewards who took orders from the goddess and her temple, running errands and negotiating contracts and sticking their noses where they didn't belong. The Queen's Guard did meaningful jobs, making sure to keep the country safe from invading forces. The Seekers? All they were good for was harassing people who didn't devote their lives to S'kekshayra and training for a godly war that would never come.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 24/09/2026

✨️Vibes✨️ Rowan and Callix are questioning each other and getting absolutely nowhere. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

“What are you doing out here?” Rowan asked. “I was told there have been Seekers spotted in areas they haven’t bothered to patrol in years.”

The smile never left the man’s face. This was a game to him, a careful push and pull, and he thought he was winning. “Scouting,” he said. “Everything else is information that doesn’t concern you. My turn.” He kicked at the basket still sitting on the ground. “What are you doing out here? Doesn’t Rekshimyr know how dangerous it is out here? You would think since he fancies himself a war god, he would be smarter about these things.”

“He is a war god,” Rowan hissed, “because the war god your goddess spawned doesn't do his job. And Rekshimyr didn't send me anywhere. I have orders from the High Priest.”

“The High Priest.” The Seeker barked a single laugh as he bent to examine the contents of the basket. “To pick flowers and berries?”

Rowan’s fist clenched. The man had his back turned. His defenses were slightly lowered. He could attack now. There might not be a more opportune time later. “Yes,” he answered, smirking.“Everything else is information that doesn’t concern you.”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 23/09/2026

Tumble --> fall Callix just wants to finish his scouting mission, but Rowan is making it difficult. From CultWIP first draft. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky

“You people are always so quick to violence,” Callix said, shaking his head in disbelief. “What is your problem?”

Rowan didn't answer. Instead, he lunged, catching Callix around his waist and knocking him to the ground. Callix swung at him with his blade, but Rowan was quick, stopping the blow just before it grazed his throat. He squeezed Callix's fingers, bending and prying until finally, with a defeated huff, Callix let it fall into Rowan's hand.

“You're stronger than you look,” Callix said, with no hint of irritation or defeat. He almost sounded impressed, which Rowan couldn't quite make sense of.

“I've been trained to deal with people like you since I was born,” Rowan hissed, pressing the tip of the blade to Callix's throat. He watched the flutter of Callix's pulse underneath his skin as a single drop of blood spilled and trickled down. Callix swallowed. He did not look afraid. Why was he not afraid? Rowan was about to kill him. “I'm more acquainted with our warrior priests than I am my own parents.”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 22/09/2026

Vibes today. Natalia's partner just gave her some bad news that led to their breakup. From CultWIP first draft. #WIPSnips #writesky #writingprompts #writingcommunity

She made it past three people and down two hallways before she could no longer hold in her tears. At first they were quiet, but the longer she stood there with the memory of Anisa’s vicious, hateful expression etched into her mind, the worse it became. Her shaky legs gave out on her, and she fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands as sobs wracked her body. Great, gasping breaths tore from her chest. Tears and snot mingled on her mouth. She almost screamed. She wanted to scream. Instead, she bit down on her palm as hard as she could to focus the pain somewhere else and muffle the sounds of her agony.

Anisa had been hers for six years, her occasional reprieve from the chaos and misery of her everyday life. She had managed to find pleasure and joy in a place where she didn’t think it was possible for those things to exist. Anisa was her light in the middle of a storm, her lifeboat when she was drowning out at sea. No, they didn’t agree about things, but now that she thought about it, had she and Anisa ever really had any deep, meaningful conversations outside of this fucked up religion they’d been born into? Had she been falling in love with an idea instead of a person?

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 21/09/2026

Both of the times I've used "stream" are in very troubling scenes. TW for religious abuse and burning From CultWIP first draft. #WIPSnips #writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompts

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 20/09/2026

Signal --> gesture Part of Rowan and Callix's first interaction. Rowan has been instructed to take out the Seekers that have been spotted around his Order's settlement. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

They will try to hurt you. Do not be afraid to draw blood.

Rowan’s gaze traveled over the man briefly, searching for any other weapons he might have on him. The stench of his magic made Rowan’s nose burn. There was something else there below the citrus, something salty like sea air, and something sweet, like honey.

“You think I can't subdue you?” he asked.

The Seeker lifted a brow. “I know you can't, but I have no interest in fighting, and I have nothing against you. So put your claws away. You're about as intimidating as a feral kitten.”

Rowan glared at him, his free hand wandering to his side to grab his dagger. He hated him. Hated him. S'kekshayra devotees always thought they were better than everyone else. He had to make sure he struck first.

“Look,” the man said, releasing Rowan’s arm and holding his hands up in a placating gesture. He moved slowly, as if Rowan was now the deer, and he was trying not to scare him away. He grasped his bow and tossed it to the side, then his morningstar. “I'm not armed. We are capable of having a peaceful conversation. Can I ask a few questions?”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 18/09/2026

From CultWIP first draft. The High Priest is trying to talk Rowan through his doubts and fears. It's...kind of working. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

“Yes,” Rowan replied, as if he even needed to ask. It was routine at this point, the only way he knew how to live his life. Rekshimyr was one of the only constants he could count on. He could feel him every second of every day, the pain that throbbed through him, reminding him of his god's love and devotion to him. If Rekshimyr did not love him, if he did not trust him, then why had he given some of his abilities so freely for Rowan to use? Why had he not struck him down by this point? He had plans for him. He cared for him. So why did Rowan have such a difficult time returning that trust? It was his body, it was his life, such a meager price to pay to make the world a better place.

“You're right, as always, Father,” Rowan said. He shifted uncomfortably. The way the High Priest stared at him reminded him of a wolf that had just gotten a whiff of blood and was ready to devour what bled. “Um…you had a task for me?”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 17/09/2026

From CultWIP first draft. The High Priest is not happy that the apocalypse hasn't started yet. 😒 #WIPSnips #writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompts

“Tell me, child,” the High Priest said as he lowered himself into the seat behind his desk with a groan of effort. “Is there something within you that is keeping our savior from us?”

The accusation in his tone made Rowan wince. Yes, he wanted to say, but fear held his lips closed as he waited in silence. When the High Priest said nothing, Rowan swallowed and said, “I feel that I am as complete as I can be for him. Perhaps it is the circumstances of the times that are not ideal.”

He knew that answer would be unsatisfactory, and the low “hmm” that came from the High Priest confirmed it. “I am not judging you, Rowan,” the High Priest said. “You will find no judgment within these walls when it comes to your faith. I merely want to help you overcome what is darkening your heart and keeping you from our Father's warm embrace. So tell me, is there doubt lingering in your soul? Do you question Rekshimyr's plans for you?”

Rowan finally looked up at him, his breath catching when he met the High Priest's intense stare. There was no hint of anger on his features, only a warm beckoning, an understanding that made the tension drop from Rowan's shoulders. It was okay to not be okay, he told himself. It was okay to ask questions, to not understand.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 15/09/2026

Using "outside" instead of "exterior." From CultWIP first draft. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

It was the work of an amateur, a child who had just learned how to hold a paintbrush, but as he watched Natalia fall to her knees and run her fingers over the red of the tulips and the sharp lines of the stars, he felt something like pride swell in his chest. “It’s beautiful,” she said in awe. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with some emotion he couldn’t describe, something he hadn’t seen there in a long time, or perhaps ever. “Is this what you would do, if you didn’t have to live like this?”

Rowan shrugged. He had never thought about what he would do outside of the compound because there was no life outside of the compound. “I’m not sure,” he said.

“I think I would own a bakery,” Natalia said. “I would make the best cakes in town. There would be lines out the door and all the way down the street full of people demanding my goods. I would bake tarts so delicious that the queen would refuse to serve desserts from anywhere else.”

“That’s ambitious,” Rowan said. He’d never even known Natalia liked to bake; she always complained when she got put on kitchen duty.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 12/09/2026

My writing buddy for the day. Happy #caturday ❤️

Tuxedo cat sitting above my shoulder on the back of a grau couch. She looks mad, as always.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 04/09/2026

From my dark romantasy WIP. CW for poisoning and its side effects #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

A loud gasp cut off the singing abruptly, plunging the room into an uneasy silence as one of the men who had his arm slung over Dorian’s shoulder collapsed to the floor with a thud. His eyes were rolled back into his head, and foam and spittle fell from his lips and down his chin as his body convulsed. Someone screamed, and then there were people surrounding him, others pushing forward to see what was happening as the barkeep flew across the room, leaping on top of tables to get to her fallen patron. Dinha stood, wavering a little, unsure of what to do. And on the other side of the bar, Dorian stood amidst a group of onlookers, whispering urgently as he stared in horror at the scene before him.

He was a good actor; Dimitri could commend him for that. But he was all too aware of how his brother handled his problems, and this had Dorian written all over it. He had no idea who the man was or what he had done, but at some point he had offended Dorian, and now, he was receiving the consequences of his actions. In a few moments, he would be just as dead as Enzo but with far less of a mess.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 03/09/2026

I actually have the word today, sort of. From my dark romantasy WIP. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

With a sigh, he leaned against the building and stared out into the night. He suddenly felt drained, a bone-deep weariness that usually plagued him when he'd exerted too much magic. He'd barely even done anything tonight, and yet, cracking someone's mind open had nearly taken everything out of him. He had to figure out how to do it effectively. Each failure, he knew, would only fuel the flames of his father's rage, and once he got done taking out his anger on Dimitri, he would take it out on the rest of the country. He was not allowed to fail. He had to be the perfect weapon, the protector of the throne, just as he was meant to be. It was all he could be. He had no choice. His choices were voided the second he was born into this family. His life did not belong to him, and it never would.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 30/08/2026

Subbing "stew" today. From the first draft of my dark romantasy WIP. #WIPSnips #writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompts

“There's a table over there,” Dorian said, gesturing to the only empty table left in the room. It was right next to a fireplace, which burned bright despite the summer heat. A pot of stew cooked above it, and a gray-faced hound slept soundly in front of it.

No one looked their way as they made their way across the creaky, ale-stained floor, but Dimitri felt eyes on him anyway. They used to not have to hide themselves so much because no one expected the Mirkovich children to be among them, and no one had ever been looking for them. Now, they had grown into their signature family traits and could hardly be mistaken for anyone else. Dimitri's eyes strayed to a place behind the counter where two portraits – his father and his grandmother – were hung, and he couldn't help but feel anxiety creeping in. If anyone so much as glanced at him, even their sluggard, drunken minds would be able to put the pieces together. He should have disguised all of them before they arrived, and as he slowly eased into the seat next to Mayumi, he had a feeling that they might have made a dreadful mistake by coming here.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 25/08/2026

Somehow I don't have "panic" yet, but I have plenty of "fear." From my dark romantasy WIP. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

“I don't harm innocent people, Dinha. If someone is with the resistance, that means they wish us dead. They want to throw this country into chaos and create their own government, but they're fools. If they kill us, their problems don't disappear; they only grow larger. I am saving them from themselves.”

No sound broke their silence save for the breaths leaving Dimitri's lungs and the loud drumming of his heart. The rage had fallen from Dinha's features, replaced by wariness and perhaps a little fear. He had never wanted her to be in a position where she was afraid of him, but there was nothing he could do to make her feel better. This was who he was, who he was always meant to be. It was written in his blood, and there was no escaping his own blood.

“You sound just like them,” Dinha said, her voice laced with disgust. “Is that truly how you feel?”

He didn't have to think about the answer. It had been ingrained in him for most of his life. “Yes.”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 21/08/2026

Just vibes today. Dorian usually spends his entire visit to his family's castle drunk. From my dark romantasy WIP. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

“How are you doing?” Dimitri asked, just to change the subject. He could already tell how Dorian was faring. He was leaning against the door, the slow, swaying motion of his body and the redness of his cheeks betraying how much alcohol he had already consumed. As Dimitri took in the sight of him, Dorian pulled a flask from within his cloak and took a swig from it.

“The same as always,” Dorian replied, his words slurring just slightly. “It's always such a miserable chore to leave Mae'ara and come back to this shithole. It's lovely to see you, of course. Can we go out into the hall? I can't stand to look at that corpse a second more.”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 19/08/2026

From my new romantasy WIP. This is the first time Dimitri's been able to read someone's mind and see their memories. Enzo is a prisoner he and his parents are interrogating. #WIPSnips #writingprompts #writingcommunity #writesky

Enzo had fled. He had family on the other side of the village, and instead of trying to reach them, he'd fled.

The screams rose again, shrill, childlike, calling for their father to come and save them. He wasn't even sure if the memory was real anymore or if it was just Enzo’s guilt. All he knew was that it hurt, it hurt so badly, like his skull was being split in two as he tried to hold onto it. He could feel it slipping away. He could feel his control waning. There were more screams, the fear of hundreds as they tried and failed to escape their demise. Dimitri's throat felt raw. Had he been screaming too?

“Kill…me…” Enzo pleaded again, and then, like a dam breaking, all of his memories came rushing at Dimitri at once, flashing in his own mind so quickly he couldn't even keep up with them. The pain was unbearable.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 18/08/2026

I started listening to Daggermouth yesterday. I'm about 1/4 of the way through. All I saw were 5-star reviews before it came out, and now there's AI accusations and all I see is that it's bad. Anyway, I checked it out from Libby to form my own opinion. #booksky #amreading

A screenshot of the audiobook Daggermouth by H.M. Wolfe

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 17/08/2026

So far only one "dark" in the first draft of romantasy WIP. CW for mention of blood and emotional abuse. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

“Let him try again, Ivan,” Katerina said, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. Her dark hair was falling out of its previously perfect braided bun, and there was still blood splattered across her pale face that she hadn’t bothered to wipe away. It should have been terrifying as she turned her gaze to Dimitri and smiled her soft, affectionate smile at him. “This is a new ability he’s been trying to learn. He’s allowed to make mistakes. No one is perfect the first few times they try something.”

Dimitri should have recoiled. She was just manipulating him like she had so many times before, but the glint of compassion in her eyes made his heart ache with longing. It would be gone within seconds, he knew. All his twenty-five years of life he had done nothing but chase after his parents’ love and attention, and the only time he received it was in times like these, when they wanted his power. He knew their games, he knew their lies, and yet, he fell victim to them every time.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 12/08/2026

From my romantasy WIP. I'm changing a lot of stuff about how my characters interact with one another, so this might not be around long, but I like it. Dinha's POV. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

every time she was forced to return to this nightmare land, it felt like something inside of her cracked, making way for all of the memories and emotions she had tried so desperately to bury. She hated Dimitri and Dorian almost as much as she hated her aunt and uncle, but every once in a while, she remembered that at one point they had been her best friends. She and Dorian used to bond over their love for horses. Dimitri used to ask her to sing in her father’s native language when he cried because her voice soothed him. On late nights when they had all filled up on too much dessert at dinner and were too hyper to sleep, they would sneak around the castle playing hide and seek in the shadows. They had all had their first tastes of wine together, had shared stories of crushes and first kisses together, had laughed and cried together so many times she was sure their bond was cemented in stone for the rest of their lives. She had always been the one to wipe Dimitri’s tears, and Dorian had always been the one to offer her a helping hand whenever she fell. Her bruises, her scars, her heartbreaks– all of them had belonged to Dorian and Dimitri as well.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 11/08/2026

Oh good. I revised this last night, and it's the only time this word appears. From my new romantasy WIP. #WIPSnips #writesky #writingprompts #writingcommunity

“I sincerely hope so. They're planning something, I can feel it.” He sighed again, then nodded toward the room. “Come. End him.”

Dimitri followed his father back into the cramped space and glanced over at his mother, leaning against the wall and picking at a loose string on her dress, and then at the man, if he could still call him that. He was really more of a lump of flesh now, and his breathing was so shallow that Dimitri wondered if he would just die on his own. He didn’t understand why it always had to be him that did this, why his father couldn't drag a blade across their captive's throat or his mother couldn't stab him in the heart, but he thought it was a test of some sort, to make sure they still had control. They had wrestled him into submission a long time ago, though. The leash they had him on had proven impossible to break free from, no matter how many times he’d tried. So he’d stopped trying.

“Do it,” Katerina said. “I'm tired of listening to all his moaning.”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 04/08/2026

So many boxes in this paragraph. From my dieselpunk fantasy WIP. Faye contemplates what cargo the Vespertine crew might be carrying. #WIPSnips #writesky #writingprompts #writingcommunity

Slowly, she got to her feet and made a circle around the boxes, searching for perhaps the tenth time for some sort of signal, but they were just plain brown crates, something that fruit might be shipped in. She leaned forward, placing her hands on one of the boxes as she sniffed the air. No smell. She tapped the side of the box and got nothing, then shook it a little and thought she heard something like the tinkling of glass, which brought her back to thinking it might be moonshine or some other alcohol stored in jars and bottles. But would they be this shady about sending alcohol to the troops?

Another thought that occurred to her was body parts. That wasn't something she was seriously going to entertain; there was nothing about the transport signaling it to be true. For one, she thought that the crates and the ship would have to be kept cool to store bodies correctly, and Fontaine had not mentioned anything about temperature control. And if there were body parts, being in the warm cargo hold so close to the engine would have surely caused a stench.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 03/08/2026

I posted this earlier but had to fix something, so here it is again. From my new romantasy WIP. CW for mention of murder and suicide #WIPSnips #writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompts

The man was sobbing now, his whole body shuddering with the weight of his terror. They knew no greater fear than what they felt in their final moments, knowing his face would be the last one they saw.

“Kill us then,” he said. He didn't even try to get up, didn't even try to fight anymore. It was mildly disappointing. “Get it over with. I'm sure you've got more important things to deal with.”

Dimitri's lips curled into a small smile. “I won’t have to kill you. You’re going to kill yourselves.”

“Wh –” the man started to ask, but the vines silenced him, constricting around his head, his shoulders, his torso, his limbs and pinning him to the ground. His cries were muffled, his eyes wide and glassy with a fresh wave of tears. It sent a thrill rushing through Dimitri’s veins as he pushed his way into the man’s mind, gliding past his recent memories and searching through the darkest recesses to find his greatest fears, his deepest regrets.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 02/08/2026

From my new romantasy WIP. CW for blood and strangulation. Marked graphic just in case. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

The man with the knife took a step back, bumping into his friend. He staggered and dropped his weapon just as the shadowy vines rose from the ground and wrapped tightly around his limbs, and he let out a pathetic squeak as he tried to free himself. Each movement made the vines grow tighter, the dark thorns dig deeper into his skin. Little drops of crimson rose up along his wrists, dripping down his fingers and onto the ground. Where each drop fell, a new vine emerged, shooting up like venomous snakes and sinking their fangs into the man's skin.

“Let me go!” the man yelled as another vine shot out, wrapping around his throat and squeezing, squeezing until the man let out a weak wheeze. His eyes bulged as he thrashed about, his hands coming up to try to claw the shadows away, but they passed right through.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 31/07/2026

I just saw one of these things for the very first time. I love discovering brand new critters. ❤️😭 it's called a genet, and there are so many variations and I loooooove them.

A genet - small, slender, cat-like in appearance with big round eyes and ears, black spots on light brown fur, and a fluffy striped tail

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 29/07/2026

I've been listening to this audiobook read by the author. It's wild and extremely validating to see that so many people had similar upbringings as me and had the same feelings about leaving and deconstructing. My therapist and I have a lot to talk about tonight.

A screenshot of the audiobook "The Exvangelicals: Loving, Living, and Leaving the White Evangelical Church" by Sarah McCammon

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 28/07/2026

From my dieselpunk fantasy WIP. The first time Jonah and Stella meet, he's pretty much head over heels immediately. Stella is desperately in need of allies and uses his attraction to her advantage. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

“But if you do know how to use it…” Her eyelashes fluttered a little as she moved closer to him, her lips hovering just inches from his ear as her voice dropped to a low, sultry purr. The lavender smell assaulted him, making him feel dizzy. He could barely breathe as her fingers brushed against his arm. “I would be very grateful for your assistance with something. It’s a little bit illegal, though.”

Jonah swallowed hard. He had absolutely no idea how to pick a lock, and he couldn’t comprehend why a woman from the Center was asking him to commit a crime for her unless she was trying to bait him somehow. His eyes met hers once again, and a sweet, innocent smile touched her lips. “I…I don’t know –”

Eli clapped him hard on the shoulder. “My friend here is the best at picking locks. You’ve come to the right person.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Perfect. We can talk later then. Can I find you here again?”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 27/07/2026

This is from my new WIP. The word isn't there, but the ✨️vibes✨️ are. CW for brief mention of injuring someone #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

The man's face fell in defeat. He knew his threats were useless, so he tried a different angle. “Please,” he said, voice breaking. “You said you didn't want to hurt us.”

“I don't,” Dimitri replied, “but you've given me very little choice.” He pulled back on the vines again and heard another snap of bone. Anton let out a muffled scream as the shadows crept over his face, surrounding him in darkness. They didn't have much time before someone came to investigate, which meant he needed to end this now.

The man trembled, then slowly, he released his grip and let the dagger fall back to the ground. He raised his hands in surrender. “We weren't thinking,” he said. “We've been drinking, and we let our emotions get the best of us. I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement –”

“You're trying to negotiate with me?” Dimitri asked. His voice didn't feel like his own. More vines rose, wrapping around the man's ankles and tugging him to the ground. “You are a traitor to the crown, and traitors do not get to make bargains.”

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 25/07/2026

From my dieselpunk fantasy. This is the only instance of "double" I found. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

“Hey,” Stella said, nudging him with her shoulder. They were walking through a hedge maze, and Lorraine and Hattie had pulled a little ahead of them, taking wrong turns and then doubling back to lead them in the other direction. “Are you having a good birthday?”

He nodded, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was true.

“Good. It’s much better than staying in bed all day, right?”

He shrugged.

Stella sighed, falling silent. Fen ran his fingers over the vibrant green leaves, wishing that they would slow down a little bit. He felt like they were running from one place to another, trying to do as much as they possibly could in one day instead of lingering to appreciate anything. The expo would be here for a month, so they had time. Or, they should have. He kind of felt like they had a time limit, and the countdown was getting close to zero.

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mk 🎃👻 @mkwritesfic.bsky.social · 23/07/2026

From my dieselpunk fantasy WIP. Stella's party dress is blue! But she's not really in a party mood here. #writingprompt

“I look forward to our future exploits, ladies,” Fontaine said, ushering them toward the door. When he swung it open, they nearly collided with an auburn-haired woman in a blue dress holding a notepad. Her cheeks were red from drinking, and it looked as if she had been crying recently. “Ms. Hartwell. I did not expect to see you here. Is something the matter?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “Well…no. I was speaking with Hattie earlier, and she said some things that got me thinking about…” She glanced at Faye and Ari warily. “My parents’ deaths. Can I speak with you for just a moment?”

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