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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again.

@vl-lanius.bsky.social
1.8K followers 3.7K following 321 posts

📜 Writing epic fantasy. Obsessed with ancient history. 🎲 DM and mini painter. 🏳‍🌈 Genderqueer (Any/All) | Aroace | ND Projects: 🐲 Royal Magpie series - Dragons, Queer Romance, Rome-flavored 🏛 7 Days of Fire - Historical Fiction, Fall of Carthage

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Reposted by V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again.
Madelyn Knecht ✨🌈 @madelynknecht.bsky.social · 28/10/2025
💖ANNOUNCEMENT💖 So excited to share that I'm now represented by Danai Christopoulou and Ann Rose at @TheTobiasAgency !! I'm so excited to share my queer, speculative, macabre stories with editors 💖
Blonde girl in strawberry dress and apron holding hands with brunette girl in all black, standing in front of a storefront. Text reads Hearts to Mend
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 03/10/2025
Day 2 - Weave A day late but in my defense I have a migraine. #inktober2025 #inktober
A woven basket full of yard, spindles and distaffs
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 03/10/2025
If you wish to hunt the monsters, you must first compile the shaders. #monsterhunterwilds
Stuffed horse plush staring at a loading screen of Monster Hunter Wilds, with a pink backlit keyboard and pink and white mouse next to it
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daleillustration @daleillustration.bsky.social · 01/10/2025
1. MUSTACHE (or Moustache) - Once again I’m taking part in Inktober this year and following the prompt list instead of doing my own thing. As you can see the walrus I’ve drawn is super excited about it.. enjoy! . #inktober #inktober2025 #illustration #walrus #mustache
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Hache @hacheescribe.bsky.social · 01/10/2025
1. Mustache. #Inktober2025 #Inktober #handmade
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 01/10/2025
Day 1 - Mustache #inktober2025
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Jan Karlsson @jangoeswriting.bsky.social · 25/09/2025
Bit of a synonym stretch. ‘Interest’ instead of ‘absorb’. From ‘Prophet Hearing’. #WiPSnips
It was always the way of the gods to not take too much of an interest in the dealings of the Mortal Realm, because that only encouraged them and there were only so many days in eternity to be wasted on people wanting blessings on their favourite sports teams. Money didn’t change hands when gods made wagers, they dealt in more esoteric, more ineffable commodities. Favours, mostly, but favours of gods were usually worth having, even if that favour was owed by Klart, who the other gods refused to allow near the dice in case he got snot over them.
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Nicole "Ashrah" Hidalgo 😈🧄👻 @sayaashrah.bsky.social · 25/09/2025
#WIPSnips 25. "Absorb" A chance to show off the "new" name plus mama and daughter working together 💪🏽 #ChroniclesOfTheRealms #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity
A rebel grunted when Askaly poked the gash in her stomach. Showing no remorse or hesitation, she dug her fingers in, pulling a scream out of the nensii before she passed out. Seven alive out of sixteen, by Nitara’s calculations. Soon to be six, judging by how much that one was bleeding.

Done with her analysis, Askaly stood, her tousled hair shining a bright red. Her skin absorbed the fresh blood on her hands, giving them a rosy tint that she covered with her fingerless, clawed black gloves.

“Anything useful?” Nitara asked.

“Sambre.” She pointed to one of the corpses. “That one talked about visiting the city a few weeks ago.”

“Did you find out why?”

“He didn’t know. More of an extra pair of eyes than someone involved in whatever they were planning.” She snickered. “This whole gang is just a bunch of nobodies.”
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💀🫜 Charlie (Chelizabeth) Delta 🦊👻 @charliedeltawrites.bsky.social · 25/09/2025
September 25th – absorb On safety. Av’ry and Mikiva discuss their plans for the evening. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
Fox nodded, finished the last bite of her sandwich before rising. “Enjoy the orchard.” 
	“Is she alright?” Mikiva asked, watching her go.
	“Probably just exhausted,” Av’ry replied. “She’s hardly slept in weeks, pushing to finish with the Blood.”
	“I suppose that is true. You really think we are safe to sleep here?”
	“No. Not even a little bit.”
	Mikiva blinked. “That’s less encouraging than I was hoping for.”
	“Normally I wouldn’t be worried, but Fox is bleeding a lot of power right now. She can’t suppress it like she used to, and without all the stone around us to absorb it, it is going to be like a beacon, drawing any Sensitive in the area right to us. And if redacted is smart, he’ll have them spread all over, looking for her. We can only hope they won’t be close enough to sense her, here.”
	“Why didn’t you say that to her?”
	“Because she knows as well as I do. Nothing she can do about it right now; she still isn’t entirely in control. We keep watch. We hope to get lucky.”
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Isaac ⚔ Isaac @isaacxisaac.bsky.social · 25/09/2025
Today's #WIPSnips from a conversation between Alexander and his tutor, Mr Calver. Religious swears are considered super vulgar in the period (more than the anatomical, which are our worst). The more idiomatic form is "Why the Devil" but even Alexander's softer form is shocking in some company.
“You seemed to be deeply absorbed. What were you talking about?”
“Gossip is a vice, Mr. Aldridge.”
“This is conversation, not gossip,” Alexander said, exasperated. “Is a little curiosity such a harm?”
“Yes, at times.”
“And is this such a time? Why in Heaven are you being so evasive?”
“You really ought not to speak in such a vulgar way, Mr. Aldridge. It is not becoming in society.”
“Just tell me; else you make yourself seem to be engaged in some sort of conspiracy.”
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Sam Vimes 🫜 @reaper-man.bsky.social · 25/09/2025
Scruffy pretends to be drunk in order to blend in during a covert meeting. He's faking it quite well, isn't he? 🥴🍺 From an action-comedy novel about a girl, a robot, and the heist crew they call family. #WIPSnips #AmWriting #WritingCommunity #WriteSky 💙📖
    The moment they were out of earshot, Scruffy leaned on the bar counter and spoke solemnly. “Now, before you shcold me, Fifi, let me ekshplain.”

    Fia crossed her arms. “Go on...”

    “I met Florenti’sh contact,” he slurred. He tried to slap the drunkenness out of his face, but only managed to rearrange it slightly. “Our spy’s the pretty redhead over there, her name’s Max.”

    He took another sip of ale out of habit, promptly mitigating the effect of the cheek slaps. “But she brought her colleague, who ishn't one of Florenti’s agents. Couldn't shake her, apparently. And she also kept ordering rounds. One after the other. The woman can drink, let me tell you. And then, right, I thought, well, if I don’t drink, they’ll think I’m shushpicious, and maybe they’ll leave. So I maintained my… hic… cover, and adapted. I abshorbed the situation.”

    He’d absorbed a whole lot more than just that. Fia was about to say something about it, when Max walked over to join them. 

    “Your drunk act was fantastic,” she said to Scruffy cheerfully, looking sober as a judge all of a sudden. “Seriously. That was clever, getting Caitlin to loosen up first. Smart play there, old chap.”

    “Yesshhh,” said Scruffy sagely, eyes straining to focus. “It wuz all… hic… an act! A rooshe, if you will.”
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 25/09/2025
Making this vague enough to prevent spoilers. From Royal Magpie's Lament #WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writingprompts #queerwriters #transwriters
“Um, this time they almost had a taste. Different tastes. Salty. Bitter. Sour.”
“You’re eating them.”
“I’m what?”
“You’re eating them,” he repeats. “Absorbing them and gaining energy.”
“Oh.” She doesn’t like that idea at all. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m not sure. You’re the magical one; all I can do is form theories based on what information I have.”
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Tilly Bramley @tillybramley.bsky.social · 12/09/2025
You need money desperately….so you go to a demon to sell the only thing you have…your body 📘: Resolute by Tilly Bramley book 1 of San Hades Chronicles Available on KU 🔥Demon/human 😈Daddy dom #monsterromance #kindleunlimitedromance #paranormalromance #smuttok #smut #romancebookscenes #BookTok
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 11/09/2025
Life's been busy! I can't believe it's been almost 3 weeks since RMO, my debut novel, was released into the wild. Slowly selling and distributing my latest batch! #indiepub #selfpub #fantasy #booksky #queerwriters
Stack of books on a shelf, with one facing the camera. Cover is a six winged feathered dragon mosaic set on a painting of the sea.
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 24/08/2025
📚💙 New release! Royal Magpie's Oath, an epic fantasy/romance full of all the things you love. Like dragons. Amazon: a.co/d/4G3gHM0 Kobo: tinyurl.com/sbkff4uhz #fantasy #queerromance #dragon #queerwriters #writingcommunity
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 21/08/2025
📚💙 Royal Magpie's Oath releases TOMORROW! Available on Amazon and Kobo. Immerse yourself into a new world inspired by Imperial Rome, full of magic, dragons, meddling deities, vibrant characters, and rich worldbuilding. #fantasy #queerromance #dragons
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 28/07/2025
I didn't need to search for this one, I knew I had it. From 7 Days of Fire #WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writingprompts #queerwriters #transwriters
They removed the Samnite’s body with reverence, for he had died well. Slaves ushered Canius from the arena, and he started down the cavernous tunnel. Already, they were raking the Samnite’s blood into the sand, covering it for the next pair of combatants. The funerary games would continue until the feasting the following night. Most of the time, Canius wouldn’t give a single thought to the dead they honored with their bloodletting, but he had known the deceased his entire life.
His master—former master—found him in a patch of nettles as a newborn, discarded with the rest of the trash. It was a story the old man loved to tell the other patricians in his dining hall. What would Canius do now that he was dead? His new master, the son of the old, already disapproved of Canius’ gladiatorial dreams. Canius needed to remain quiet and avoid drawing attention to himself during the funerary feasts and sacrifices. The man already didn’t like him.
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HMH Murray @nillcord.bsky.social · 27/07/2025
#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts wotd "apologize" Our Heroine is trying to figure out the polite way to apologize for ruining the Ottrava family's life. And planet. It's difficult.
I had yet to explain to the Ottravas how I’d doomed their entire world. I wasn’t sure how to bring that up. “As I said…” Perhaps trying to sound like so much like Davad had been a mistake, but I was committed to the Terran accent now. “I want to offer an apology. My good friend Wade Skybourne made me aware that your daughter had been mistaken for me, so I...” I gave my best Davad-version of a smile. “Uh, I stopped by to apologize in person. I am so sorry for the misunderstanding!” “Hrm.” Ma eyed me. “Did you know my Jason’s a Guild Elder?”
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M. Walsh - Author @m-walshwrites.com · 27/07/2025
#amwriting #WIPsnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky
	“Excuse me … Lily, was it?”
	She cringed at the unfamiliar voice and failed to contain the moan it inspired. “What now?”
	Deemer-Lewis took her response with good humor. “Yes,” he said with a chuckle. “You do seem to be getting it from all sides tonight. I beg your pardon, but I only wish to apologize on behalf of my comrades.”
	She almost misheard him. After everything she’d been through tonight, she thought he asked her to apologize. Fortunately, his words sank in before she could scream, leaving her befuddled. 
	“You what?”
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Jan Karlsson @jangoeswriting.bsky.social · 27/07/2025
Anti-mage prejudice. They have a point, though … From “Threads of Fate”. #WiPSnips
“Can’t have his type in here.” A very large, immoveable hand pressed against Ilbnot’s chest and, no matter how much he tried, Ilbnot could not move around it. “He’ll have to stay outside.”

“What? Why? Oh.” As he threw up his hands in exasperation, several people screamed, one man fainted and a whole host of people appeared from nowhere carrying buckets of sand and wearing large, metal, ill-fitting hats. One threw the sand over Ilbnot and didn’t bother to apologise. “I see. Look, I assure you I have no intention of casting any magic. We simply need somewhere to … talk.”

“Oh, they all say that, then it’s ’You know, it’d be far easier to cast a very tiny spell to do such-and-such’ and then we’ve got people transformed into Belisha beacons, raccoons discussing politics and strange pillars of salt wanting to know the way to armadillos.” The enormous hand, presumably attached to an equally enormous person, hiding behind the door, pushed Ilbnot, not-too-gently, backward. “We don’t even know what a Belisha beacon is. So, no, thank you. Politeness be damned. You’re staying outside.”
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 27/07/2025
I have plenty of "sorry" but only one "apologize." From Royal Magpie's Lament #WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writingprompts #queerwriters #transwriters
Davros pours the tea—first Imai’s, then his. He lowers his head. “Otogi Imai, honored guard. I must apologize. I don’t hate you. I was…afraid of you.” Davros’ hands tremble. He clenches them into fists. “I feared your reaction to my true nature and assumed something untrue.”
“True nature?”
“Yes. I—” His voice catches. Davros glances over at Takuro, who makes a ‘get on with it’ gesture. “I’m the sipu. The one from the myths.”
He said it. Surely now, Imai will hate him. Silence stretches for several long breaths before the guardsman says, “And?”
Davros’ head jerks. “What do you mean, ‘and’? You don’t care that I’m something out of a horror story?”
“No.” Imai sips his tea. “It does not fit. You are too anxious.”
Takuro’s laugh splits the air. Davros glares at him. It only makes the fox laugh harder. “[Herald]. You must stop assuming the worst of your new companions.”
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M. Walsh - Author @m-walshwrites.com · 22/07/2025
#amwriting #WIPsnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky
	“I don’t need a sword. I want Leeroy’s magic boom-thing.”
	“You don’t even know how to use it. You’ll end up hurting yourself.”
	“You don’t know how to use it either, you twat!”
	Before she could blink away the black haze clouding her vision, Katrina realized she couldn’t move her arms. Her neck was stiff and screamed in protest when she tried to lift her head. The pang of agony rolled past her shoulders into her lower back, stirring pins and needles that had gathered. Her senses returning, she understood she’d been bound in a chair and left to sit with her head hanging limp for some time. 
	“Besides, you have Papa’s scythe. What do you need any other weapons for?”
	“I earned it.”
	“We earned it! And I bet I would wield it better than you!”
	“Lamont? You awake?”
	Voices in the blur. Whispering beside her. Some sounded familiar, though not in a good way. They echoed in her brain like a ringing bell, making it throb. A part of her mind—perhaps operating on instinctual survival mode—didn’t want to dwell on where she was or how she got there, knowing it might set off yet another panic attack. Remembering things only hurt. But reality continued creeping in like an overflowing river. Whether she liked it or not, Katrina knew she needed to contend with her situation.
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M. Walsh - Author @m-walshwrites.com · 22/07/2025
▪️THE GHOST PRINCESS▪️ ⚔️fantasy adventure ✖️multi-POV 💔failed chosen one 🏴‍☠️unwilling outlaw 🔪serial killer 💀immortal juggernaut 🌲haunted forest ☄️misleading prophecy 😈demons & monsters www.books2read.com/ghostprincess or: m-walshwrites.itch.io/the-ghost-pr... #BookSky #itchio #ReaderSky #SFF #Fantasy
Banner for M. Walsh's fantasy novel "The Ghost Princess" with the tagline, "Sometimes... destiny isn't all it's cracked up to be..."

Also shows cover blurb:
"Graylands is where people go when they don’t want to be found.
A neutral, mostly frontier country between two opposing empires, it is a haven for drifters, pilgrims, outlaws, and everything in between hoping to build a new life, find adventure, or just disappear.
"Katrina Lamont is one such individual.
"Once upon a time, she was the Chosen One—a warrior charged with a great and heroic destiny. But when she finished her journey, there was no happy ending waiting for her. Now she lives as an embittered, alcoholic drifter, haunted by the ghosts of her past.
"But when an evil sorcerer, Jacob Daredin, seeks to fulfill an ancient prophecy that may grant him god-like power, Katrina will have to take up the sword once again as she finds herself caught in a race to find the young woman whose sacrifice is the key to Daredin’s mad dream.
"Along the way, she will contend with Krutch Leeroy—an infamous outlaw who is not all he seems—and cross paths with Lily Blackthorn—a perky, but mysterious woman with a dark secret of her own.
"As Daredin’s forces close in, they will traverse a haunted landscape of pirates, demons, killers, con-men, an immortal juggernaut, and worse in an adventure where the line between destiny and plain bad luck is razor thin."

The book cover and background image depicts a black tower on the edge of a cliff by a dark sea and stormy skies with a red horizon. 
Art by Anthony Jensen
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Reposted by V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again.
M. Walsh - Author @m-walshwrites.com · 22/07/2025
🔸THE JINXED PIRATE🔸 ⚔️ fantasy adventure ✖️ multi-POV 🃏 bungling outlaw 🥃 fallen princess 🏺 lost artifact 🌇 corrupt city 🏟️ gladiator pit 👿 reluctant demon 🎪 evil carnival 🔥 riot www.books2read.com/jinxedpirate or: m-walshwrites.itch.io/the-jinxed-p... #BookSky #itchio #ReaderSky #SFF #Fantasy
Banner for M. Walsh's fantasy novel "The Jinxed Pirate" with the tagline, "Being dead inside isn't for everyone..."

Also shows cover blurb:
"Graylands is where people go when they don’t want to be found.
"Within this unsettled country of drifters and outlaws is a city where the worst of the worst gather. A place of thieves, brigands, and murderers known as Seba. In Seba, law is an illusion and order is kept through cruelty and bloodshed.
"On the run from Sentry Elite and bounty hunters, supposed pirate Krutch Leeroy finds himself in this bloody city where his infamous reputation garners him the attention of Seba’s various feuding powers. Despite his efforts to lay low, Krutch is soon caught in the center of backstabbing schemes and deadly plots.
"Meanwhile, after the disaster on the Blind Cliffs, fallen princess Katrina Lamont finds herself nearing rock bottom. Her drinking and temper worse than ever, she sets out on a desperate quest to find what remains of her people. Her journey will also lead her to Seba, where she will tread the line between salvation and damnation.
"Amidst this are the Synclaires—a family just moved to Graylands in the hope of a fresh start. However, chance of fate and rash decisions will draw the family into a sinister plot that threatens to bring tragedy and doom to their door.
"As Krutch, Katrina, and the Synclaires face threats from all sides, they will each unwittingly find themselves caught in a battle that may destroy the delicate balance keeping Seba from consuming itself in chaos."

The book cover and background image depicts a black-bladed sword covered in blood and stuck in the ground. Around the sword, a medieval city is on fire. 
Art by Anthony Jensen
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M. Walsh - Author @m-walshwrites.com · 23/07/2025
#amwriting #WIPsnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky
	Lock shook his head at the irony of Graylands being a place where people could escape the old world and old ways just to embrace the same principles. “Why not call themselves King and be done with it? If they’re running their cities like private kingdoms, why bother with the lesser titles?”
	“Kings ask for trouble. People will put up with a Baron and a Duke and Lord, but the only people who dare call themselves King are the guys who try to unite Graylands. And kings don’t last long in this country.”
	He nodded and gazed at the woods surrounding them. Evening drained the land of color, turning the trees and road into darkened shades of gray. Even the snow seemed dimmer as rain slowly turned it to wet ice. As strange as it sounded, he understood the logic. A baron or duke, while still denoting authority and status, seemed minor and temporary where a king or queen had a sense of finality. A lesser lord would eventually pass. A man calling himself King meant to stay that way.
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Headless🎃Horsewoman🪉💎🏹🐴⚔️ @acturek.bsky.social · 23/07/2025
#WIPSnips #fantasy #WriteSky #minor #WritingCommunity Rushak is engulfed by the terrible mood swing he calls The Bitterness, and at a very inopportune time and place.
In the roaring water Rushak heard, beneath the
Song, the screech of his faithname. It swept over him on tattered wings, bleeding images he had known in the heartstone and in his nightmares. 

And she dropped down, spreading veils to banish them: a Lynsheltri. He backed
away, but she slid her blue-green gaze deftly beneath his wall, polluting his anguish with the wellspring of peace she offered. He recoiled, almost physically sick. He was unfit for her grace. 

He cowered in his darkness, submerged in safe self-torment and crabbed back, well
beyond her reach. He thought. But a short motif in a minor key darted from her lips: an echo of the River's
Song, yet somehow of his own heart too.
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Jan Karlsson @jangoeswriting.bsky.social · 22/07/2025
Ilbnot tries to be threatening. From “Threads of Fate”. #WiPSnips
“Let us in you miserable old git!” The words projected from Ilbnot toward the walls of the tower. “Or I swear The Guild will cut your funding.”

No mage could ignore consequences so dire. No mage could live with the knowledge that The Guild had severed the steady stream of money that paid for essential things, such as tobacco, talcum powder and gout remedies. The words travelled along the fleece strands of magic, hiccuped, fell to the ground, transformed into several dozen ears, exactly how Ilbnot had pictured them, with extra-added mouths holding thin, sharp, needle-like teeth, that then proceeded to attempt, unsuccessfully, to eat through the wall. Little teeth snapping and flying in glittering arcs in all directions.
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Jan Karlsson @jangoeswriting.bsky.social · 23/07/2025
An immortal being is stymied by fog … From “Threads of Fate”. #WiPSnips
“Wait. Is that …?” After walking some great distance, the Hand of Fate reached out to touch something that loomed out of the fog and let out a strangled cry, beating his fists against his own breast. “It’s the same tree! How can it be the same tree? I’ve passed it five times already!”

It was but a minor inconvenience to spend time calming down, breathing in through his nose and our through his mouth, spreading his hands, arms and inner calm outward in an expression of pure, unassailable peace. Opening his eyes, the Hand of Fate lifted his hand, found the correct direction and headed that way. This time, very, very slowly, watching every step he made.

No bloody fog was going to get the better of him.
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 23/07/2025
Similar to the "jaded" post (same conversation). From Royal Magpie's Lament #WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writingprompts #queerwriters #transwriters
A small part of her is alarmed at her reaction, but she’s too deep, tethered to this man through the strings of her magic. Every breath, every pulse of his heart, the dull ache in his limbs, the residual pleasure of their conjugation—he’s so alive, so real, a burning torch against the dullness of the room.
“My entire life is deception,” he continues. Firelight plays off his aquiline nose, his sharp cheekbones, the hard line of his jaw. His hair, tousled to uncharacteristic messiness, hangs over his forehead, the dark gold of it a pleasing accompaniment to his amber eyes. “To most, I’m the eldest son of a minor branch of gens Minia, walking the path laid out for someone of my station, a scion of Gaius Minius, my father, and his father of the same name, all the way back to old Fresian royalty. And when I get married and have a son, his name will be Gaius Minius, and so the story will drone on and on.”
His sardonic words are flavored with a bitterness that burns like vinegar. Julia latches on to one word, the one accompanied by sharp anxiety. “Married?” she asks.
“Married. Not my choice, but that hardly matters.”
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Jan Karlsson @jangoeswriting.bsky.social · 19/07/2025
A moment of reflection and a list (abridged) of horrible things that happen to people/things entering the Guild House of Mages. From “Threads of Fate”. #WiPSnips
His truth, in this moment, was that he had been hijacked into this particular search for ‘the truth’ for reasons other than those Gammer Goodhiding had said in the message delivered by a rather confused crow. Entering the grounds of the Guild House had an effect upon those not taking the correct precautions. For animals and birds, those effects included, but were not limited to, death, lingering death, strange transformations, strange transformations that led to death, and an acute sense of existential ennui. The crow sent by Gammer Goodhiding had got off lightly. Or the Guild House had.
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Jan Karlsson @jangoeswriting.bsky.social · 20/07/2025
Calculating a moon … From “Threads of Fate”. #WiPSnips
This kind of thing would take the mathematical genius of the kind of person that could take a stick, a piece of string and a hearty lunch, and calculate, to within fractions of an inch, the exact size, area and mass of not only the Sun, but the Moon and the world before lunchtime. It would take precision and an exactitude far in excess of that capable by a child, no matter how clever and precocious she may be. One change in the tapestry of the world would require a million, billion minor changes to the rest of the world, simply to reconcile the fact that, somehow, from somewhere, a door had appeared where once there wasn’t one. Or had always been there. It would take a god to keep it all in order.
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Jan Karlsson @jangoeswriting.bsky.social · 21/07/2025
‘Confirm’ instead, as Gammer Goodhiding questions a ghost … From “Threads of Fate”. #WiPSnips
“Tell me again, my lovely, if ye please.” The witch peered outside, onto the balcony he had created for Ilbnot because the secretary had needed air. “From the beginning, if ye will.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are quite possibly the most fascinating woman this world has ever produced?” His ghostly form hovered toward her, stopped by the silver string of essence that held him eternally connected to his body. “Such poise. Such grace. Why I …”

“Oh, dearie.” She looked sympathetic, but, with no evidence whatsoever to confirm it, Pidson could swear she had not a jot of it. Not for him, at least. “Ye will tell me what I need to know, my lovely. Eternity is such a long time to spend alone. So I hear.”
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 21/07/2025
✨Vibes✨ again. From Royal Magpie's Lament #WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writingprompts #queerwriters #transwriters
“I’m not making it up,” Davros says. “I know it sounds like it, but…I promise it’s all true.” He searches Romero’s expression. “I wouldn’t lie to you. You know that, gari.”
The wizard drops his head at the use of his old nickname. “Shit. I want to believe you, but…”
Davros sighs and takes out a small bag, pulled closed with a drawstring. He opens it and dumps a stone into his palm—the amber shimmers with internal radiance, pulsing with magic.
“Lucius—I mean, Regillus Pica—didn’t want to believe I’d need proof. Here. Standard two-loop enchantment.”
He hands the stone to Romero, who turns it over in his hands. His eyes widen as he taps into the magic, reading the enchantment like a written inscription.
“He let me grab a tiny piece of his aura.” Davros continues. “He almost overloaded the stone.”
“There were rumors that Pica had left the legion,” Romero says. “There’s all manner of speculation why. Some people think he’s going to overthrow his father. Others think he’s fleeing the empire.” Romero looks up at him. “He came south. Why?”
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 21/07/2025
Yesterday's but that's fine right? Drip-feeding lore through environmental interactions is my favorite. From Royal Magpie's Lament #WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writingprompts #queerwriters #transwriters
The children sing in Caltavian, their clear voices turning the normally guttural language into something more lyrical, albeit off-key. Anouk recognizes a few words, but most slip past her understanding. 
“The Day the Moon Flew Away.” The soft voice makes Anouk flinch. When she opens her eyes, the canis is less than five feet away. No, the term isn’t right. Anouk looks over the new arrival with widening eyes—narrow vulpine face, red-furred body, and two tapered tails. Then, with dawning horror, she realizes something else.
He addressed her in Soutorian.
“Shh. Do not make a scene,” the fox spirit says, holding a slender finger to his lips. “You are not in danger, herald. The queen has foretold your arrival.”
“A-ava,” Anouk manages.
“This one is sorry to approach you in such a manner.” The fox’s speech is archaic, extremely formal, best for addressing nobility. “It was this one’s assumption you would not want your public face associated with such a servant.”
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Headless🎃Horsewoman🪉💎🏹🐴⚔️ @acturek.bsky.social · 18/07/2025
#WIPSnips #fantasy #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #together Bráthal and Rushak take a moment. Context: they’re at a celebration. Bráthal had tried to murder Rush earlier that day. Bráthal’s POV From Brother’s Keeper, book one of my fantasy WIP about two brothers born into a misunderstood power.
They arrived at the River together, though they had taken separate routes. Rushak smelled of blackberries and cloves, of the potent red wine that now seemed to leak from his every pore as if he sweat blood. He said nothing, but extended the chalice to Bráthal without looking at him. Bráthal shrugged, and drank. It was as if he had not, only hours ago, been holding that one’s dainty maiden-face under water, waiting for an end to the pain. In this chalice, the Beyerfind Rose celebrated Cerel, chastened Bráthal, and scorned the hatred and rivalry that brought him and Rushak closer than many friends.
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Jan Karlsson @jangoeswriting.bsky.social · 18/07/2025
Emotions are rich and complex … From “Threads of Fate”. #WiPSnips
Broth seemed to find that acceptable and, together, they continued along the road to the town one human had called ‘Pompous Valley’. It sounded vile. No. That was the wrong descriptive. It sounded ‘lovely’. As they walked, listening to the child breathing and the sounds of the world around them, Fay began to understand another emotion that she had started to feel. It was very similar to that she felt for Broth, but different. Deeper. More primal. Protective. She looked at their progeny and felt … love. It was quite painful, but in a fashion that she enjoyed. She reached out her hand and clasped Broth’s free one and, for the first time, she felt as though they had not made a horrible mistake.
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Sam Vimes 🫜 @reaper-man.bsky.social · 18/07/2025
I wanted Fia to have her own chapter, and it quickly became one of my favourites, full of world-building. This is how it starts. From an action-comedy novel about the adventures of a girl, a small robot, and the heist crew they call family. #WIPSnips #AmWriting #WritingCommunity #WriteSky 💙📖
The sun had already packed up its dwindling pinkish rays and loitered away into the horizon by the time Fia and Sophie left the zoo together. Evening reluctantly shuffled over the middle tiers, cloaked in crumpled indigo with a hem still glowing a faint orange. The clouds rumbled with soft thunder, too lethargic to express their displeasure any louder. 

Shorespine, of course, didn’t notice any of that. Cities rarely do. Daylight, moonlight, gas lamps… it was all the same to her. She was always up to something. All the time. Only people needed the comfortable illusion of beginnings and endings.

The city bustled along without concern for the two figures making their way down towards the docks, or for the troubles tomorrow held in store for them. People slipped through her cracks all the time, after all. 

But every now and again, something remarkable would sprout.
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M. Walsh - Author @m-walshwrites.com · 18/07/2025
#amwriting #WIPsnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky In which Krutch feebly attempts seduction...
	“So …” he said. “You’re a Dinah.”
	She sprang to her feet, startled, and fumbled her glasses back on. She glanced over her shoulder to see if he’d addressed someone behind her and cleared her throat when she realized he meant her. “I … I am.”
	“Neat. I … uh …”
	He had no idea what to say. She stared at him, understandably perplexed. There was suspicion in her eyes, suggesting she knew he wouldn’t speak to her unless he wanted something, but not so much she would ignore him. 
	“I would be cautious, if I were you, Leeroy. Princ … er, Lady Lamont will return shortly. So, if you think—”
	“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, lifting his hands to reveal the metal bonds holding his wrists together. “And I’m definitely not looking to get on her bad side. I just … uh … I want to talk. You know?”
	“… okay.”
	“So …” 
	Still nothing. Her eyes kept shifting to his oversized hat, so he snatched it off and smiled.
	“You’re a Dinah. How’s that working out for you?”
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 18/07/2025
Congrats, Davros, you're a bird mom now. From Royal Magpie's Lament #WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writingprompts #queerwriters #transwriters
The bird trembles in his hand, peering up at him with big blue eyes. Big enough to be a crow or even a raven. He settles onto the bed, speaking to the little bird softly, soothingly, flooding its body with magic.
Rapid heartbeat, pain, residual terror. There’s intelligence in those eyes, a cautious understanding. It doesn’t struggle or peck, just stares up at him as he heals it. The pain lessens. Broken bones and flesh knit together, whole again. 
He opens his senses to it further, letting his magic catalog the living flesh and blood, the intricate twitch of muscles, the movement of feathers and limbs. His fingers open, and the little bird cautiously steps out of his palms to balance on his knee. Post-healing fatigue permeates its fragile little body, but it still opens its wings and flaps, testing, trying.
“You’re just like me, huh?” he whispers to it. “Just learning to get around. It’s a big world out there, isn’t it?”
It cocks its head and regards him quizzically before hop-jumping toward him, stumbling along his leg and up his tunic to settle into a deep fold in the fabric.
Well. Now what?
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M. Walsh - Author @m-walshwrites.com · 17/07/2025
#amwriting #WIPsnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky Only use of "jaded" in the whole MS:
	She stood up and went to the horses. Dinah-Celeste, who’d been minding the bacon on the fire, looked like she wanted to say something but remained silent. Based on their interactions thus far, Krutch suspected it would’ve involved questioning or criticizing the Princess’s life choices, which would no doubt prompt bile and venom in turn. Still feeling groggy, he was grateful the Dinah chose to bottle it.
	He helped himself to some strips of bacon and wondered how much more abuse she was willing to endure. She clearly believed the Princess was just a surly and jaded hero who needed someone to guide her back onto a righteous path. That thinking might fly in fairy tales, but even he knew the real world didn’t work like that. A part of him wondered if he should warn her the last person to play that game with Katrina Lamont turned out to be a con-man intent on selling her to be sacrificed. It did not end well for him or anyone else involved.
	He put it out of his mind and munched on the food. It wasn’t his business, and if he did try to involve himself, he’d only make things worse. Neither would pay much heed to his advice even if he had some to give. His only concern should be finding a means to escape. He had more important things to worry about. Like Lily.
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Jan Karlsson @jangoeswriting.bsky.social · 17/07/2025
I have ‘weary’ instead. From “Threads of Fate”. #WiPSnips
He wasn’t accustomed to boots, for instance. He would never have know that before coming on this journey, nor that the taller the heel of those boots, the less accustomed to them he was. Walking, he was most certainly not accustomed to. Strolling, in the topiaried gardens of the Guild House, yes. Shambling to and from the privy several times a night, of course. Wandering the halls and corridors of the centre of magical power on the world (debatable, to hear witches talk), of course. Long, wearying, brutal marches through landscapes that, though he new existed, had only ever seen in lovingly illustrated books that only bore a slight resemblance to the real thing and did not give any impression as to how badly most places smelled up close.
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 18/07/2025
✨Vibes!✨ Gaius Minius has opinions about his noble family. From Royal Magpie's Lament #WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writingprompts #queerwriters #transwriters
“My only goal in life should be to hoard power and prestige and carve my family name deeper into the stones of history. Never mind that nothing I do will make gens Minia more prestigious.” He pauses, glancing at her as if waiting for her acknowledgment, before chuckling ruefully. “Pica didn’t mention anything about that, I suppose. Of course not.”
Julia suppresses a stab of irritation at his flippant comment. “No. He didn’t,” she says, her words clipped. “Should he have?”
“Perhaps. Preparing you for what you were going to face by being associated with him would have been a courtesy.”
“He had other priorities,” Julia says through her teeth. “Like ensuring thousands of people didn’t die horribly.”
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Isaac ⚔ Isaac @isaacxisaac.bsky.social · 16/07/2025
Remember that Civil War that you don't need to worry about from yesterday's #WIPSnips cause everybody is hunky-dory now? Yeah…
“It is never too late, and there is hope as long as faith endures. Nothing is yet decided. A king died once; a king can die again. For only one King reigns immortal over these isles, and as long as His patriots here remain, the memory of freedom’s taste still upon their lips, there will yet be soldiers ready to fight and kill for His triumph.”
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Sam Vimes 🫜 @reaper-man.bsky.social · 16/07/2025
Fishman is thinking outside of the box. Outside of the entire room, if we're being honest. Maybe even the building too. From an action-comedy novel about the adventures of a girl, a small robot, and the heist crew they call family. #WIPSnips #AmWriting #WritingCommunity #WriteSky 💙📖
“Is that how it works?” asked Fia.

In the warm consommé of Fishman’s mind, a small crouton of memory bobbed up. Something about either knowing where you are, or where you're going, but never both precisely.

“I think it's called the Uncertainty Principle,” he ventured.

“What's that?”

“I'm not sure
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M. Walsh - Author @m-walshwrites.com · 16/07/2025
#amwriting #WIPsnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky
	Lily always chose her prey carefully. She refused to feed on the innocent and only hunted for evil-doers. Simple enough in theory, but more often she faced ambiguity and shades of gray. Some were easier to distinguish than others. On occasion, she fed on those she pitied. But every once in a while, she did come across someone who truly deserved it. Men or women evil to their core in ways that gave even a demon such as her pause.
	She sensed darkness in Henry Castle when she first encountered him. So potent, she was tempted to take him that very moment. As she fed outside Maude’s Stopover, his memories poured into her and confirmed what she had felt. He was a thief, murderer and occasional mercenary who took particular pleasure in torturing his victims. He’d been nicknamed “The Doctor” by those who knew him, and he roamed the country advertising himself as a physician to lure unsuspecting prey. He had indeed done vile things in his time and would have continued for as long as he pleased.
	Lily never took pleasure or pride in feeding, but sometimes it came easy. And on those rare occasions, she could at least feel better about it.
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Jan Karlsson @jangoeswriting.bsky.social · 16/07/2025
A reacquaintance that Ilbnot would rather not be acquainted with. From “Threads of Fate”. #WiPSnips
“Quite the problem, isn’t it, my lovely?” He knew that voice. He dreaded that voice. He had hoped never to hear that genuinely pleasant, indescribably terrifying voice ever again. “What do ye make of it?”

Ilbnot turned, very slowly, to find a short, smiling elderly lady, of indeterminate age, which was the way for most accomplished wielders of magic. He knew her very well. Had only met her once, but it was more than enough and he had shivered in terror on many a night due to the memory of it.

Gammer Goodhiding. And if she needed help, then Ilbnot didn’t want to know what from. He took a long drink of the water. He needed it.
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V.L. Lanius 🏺 is writing, again. @vl-lanius.bsky.social · 16/07/2025
Everything else is a spoiler, naturally, so have the opening paragraph of the shapeshifter's POV in book 2. From Royal Magpie's Lament #WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writingprompts #queerwriters #transwriters
Davros slams his palms down on the wall and vaults over the side, sailing over the gap between the two buildings. He rolls as he lands, righting himself and running along the clay tiles of Caltava’s rooftops. His split-toed shoes cling to the slick surface, the traction of the leather pads propelling him forward as he sprints across a narrow beam of wood and onto a thick rope. The banners hanging from it sway as he bounds lightly across it in three large steps and settles on the apex of the city’s largest inn. He crouches for a minute, his breath steaming in the morning air as he looks out over his new home.
It had taken him a week to be able to balance on the slick tiles and another to make the leap between two buildings. His left arm twinges at the memory of that first break in his forearm, a hard-won trophy of his hubris. Fortunately, his magic had swiftly seen to his injury. Too bad not all of his wounds are so easy to mend.
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