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@jonsparksauthor.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 6:57 AM

#WIPSnips 12/10: #WIPSnips are from The Skilthorn Inheritance, Book 9 of The Shattered Moon.
There is just one instance of ‘pulse’.
#books #writing #WriteSky #writingcommunity

"All of it. Buildings, land, slaves… the entire Skilthorn estate, under covenant, to secure the future of the school and of the people." He could, if he were honest, understand why Mother sat aghast; he could not pretend, to himself or to her, that he had not felt the allure, that his pulse had not quickened when it had still seemed possible that he might one day be master of so much, of a place easily ten times the size, and ten times the worth, of Ferrowby.
@rodario.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 6:52 AM

My snip for the word of today: Pulse
This is near the end of book 1, where Kiradeii battles Rodario who is being controlled by an 'evil' entity called Sarnath. Her magical bow pulses/flashes under the magical attacks of Sarnath.

#WIPSnips #Writesky

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@pauldixon.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 6:44 AM

Heartbeat for pulse today. From Second Carpathians. Fun fact about me: two separate times in my life I had work, if briefly, as a professional eel feeder. At least sort of. It's a long story.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

She opened her mouth to respond, forgetting for a moment that she was underwater. Water rushed in, and she convulsed, lungs spasming, filled with the horrible certainty that she had just drowned herself. Except she could breathe. Without trouble, because it wasn’t water but oxygenated gel, the kind of thing she had sucked into her lungs so many times during high-gee transits. “Who has?” she asked. “Magellanix,” the moray said. It twisted and turned grotesquely in the remains of Alejandro’s rotting skull. “You have been chosen.” “I don’t understand,” she said. “Of course, you do. They’ve come to take you home.” “Take me… home?” she repeated dully, still not comprehending. “It can’t be. You’re wrong. They would never have picked me.” “The best and brightest.” The eel was mocking her now, its voice unmistakably Alejandro’s, but when had that happened? “Congratulations,” it added, grinning. “But…” Could it be? Was such a thing possible? In an instant, she knew with utter clarity it was true. “I’ll come back. I promise!” “No, you won’t. No one ever does. You’ll forget this place in a heartbeat, Captain.” “But…” she stammered, confused. “A heartbeat is a long time!” Thinking — mine only beats twelve times a minute.
@nickpwilford.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 6:43 AM

Artificial Life might have no pulse but it's still a riproaring ride. At least I have two synonyms of the noun and verb, "tremor" and "pulsate", in this short snip. #WIPSnips #amediting #WriteSky #writingcommunity

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@wellandbooks.comOct 12, 2026, 6:34 AM

This is taken from a story called "You've got mAIl" sort of ChatGPT Cyrano de Bergerac tale and forms part of an upcoming collection called, "Surplus to Requirements".

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #newstories

Text excerpt from The Book Abattoir in which Oliver returns home and feeds Moby Dick, his hungry golden fish. He checks his Gmail and finds comments on The Blind Bride on Medium, along with a message from CheapsideDuchess. Nervous with anticipation, he opens the message and discovers something magical.
@saranadosfiction.comOct 12, 2026, 6:33 AM

#WIPSnips | pulse

For context here, this is post experimental ritual that backfired badly enough to destroy Archer's vision in his remaining eye - luckily, in a way that his healing could fix if he got the blood for it. As for where that blood came from...

( saranadosfiction.com/2022/12/03/s... )

Archer came to with a start, his mouth still fixed on Sabbat’s wrist. He had no idea how much time had passed – usual, when drinking from a willing volunteer, but still unsettling – but, judging by the white and grey blur that had replaced the previous black and red blur which had swallowed his vision, it’d been long enough that the blood had started to do its work. *And more than long enough for something to have gone wrong.* He pulled away, running his thumb gently over the incision in order to ensure that enough saliva stayed behind to clot the wound properly. “Sabbat?” No response. “Sabbat? Can you hear me?” The skin under his hand was still warm, thank the gods, and there was a pulse beating under his fingertips – but it was threadier and slower than it should have been, sluggish where it should have been strong. “Sabbat?” Still nothing. With mounting panic (and cursing the speed of healing that meant that he was still all but working blind) he ran his hands over the assassin’s chest and face, searching for any sign of life other than that pulse beating so worryingly slowly at his wrist. *Please. Please don’t let this be the end of it. Please.*
@douglasjern.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 6:32 AM

The door slid open, then shut. Silk robes rustled like windswept silvergrass. Then a warm hand touched her shoulder. She suppressed a shudder and fought back the red that pulsed behind her eyes. The centipede stirred, but she pinned it with her heel. She would never hurt Mitsu again.
#WIPSnips

@ellielieberman.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 6:30 AM

The earrings had been a desperation not unlike hunger, an impulse that cared little for logic or sense. Consequences weren't considered until she was forced to face them. Now, they ran dizzying circles in her head.
- Seven Years' Love (a.co/d/0eIAuPWG)

#WIPSnips

@sainiku.northsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 6:27 AM

#WIPSnips

Some world and character building.

Their technology utilizes raw magic as a power source. The engines described here have simplified properties of real-world electric motors, but use magic and mythril in place of electricity and magnets.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

Lusana drove us in her carriage west, to the city of Kressa. She made me promise not to ask about the carriage. She made me promise not to mention it to anyone. She made me promise not to inspect the carriage. She made me promise not to even think about the carriage. Both trains and carriages were fascinating technologies. The engines produce alternating pulses of raw magic from batteries which — with clever usage of the attractive and conductive properties of mythril — create motion. Miniaturization for carriages, however, was still fairly new. So new… that nobody owned a carriage. Only very specific businesses even had permits to have them. So I was very happy not to ask where she obtained her extremely illegal carriage.
@lesterdcrawford.comOct 12, 2026, 6:14 AM

#WIPSnips October 12 - pulse
Hope feels discombobulated.
"Her pulse raced" is cliché. I put a note in the manuscript to remind me to find a better way to say it. "Thoughts swirled" is probably also cliché.
#AmWriting #AmWritingFantasy #AmWritingSciFi

Text that says: Mister Emery described the techniques he would teach in their upcoming sparring sessions: lunge, thrust, stab, strike, block, deflect, advance, retreat. Hope's thoughts swirled. Could she do this? Should she do this? Her pulse raced (this is cliché). She breathed and silently hummed. — The Dragon Universe Hope (working title, work-in-progress)
@caucasiansuasion.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 6:06 AM

Pretty sure pulsars are called that because they pulse 😉 #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

The darkness comes as quiet resurrection. A dead sun never sets; only drifts, a lighthouse built upon the sand, and Calliope is always the first to feel the ebb of that tide of light as the pulsar’s beam sweeps away from the Zhóu’s orbit and out into deep space. The way the bearded jawline of Shamil’s face unconsciously unclenches next to her as he sleeps, breath deepening with the pressure drop. The way shadows creep closer from underneath the edges of radiation shutters that none save the eyes of another synthetic such as hers can ever see, ghost trails of ionized dust receding in the x-ray’s wake. The terror a natural has at the sight of Calvera, leaden curtains rising on a hyper-flattened disc of impossible density revealed all at once, smeared halo of galactic starlight swirling about in fluid arcs of silver and gold, shíkōng itself dragged behind. But not her. The Glaze cracks at last in her mind. Reverential silence replaces the heavy load of magnetic static, wetware dreams free.
@peterrobin.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 6:06 AM

#WIPSnips October 12 "pulse" (heartbeat)

From Australian of the Year

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

“Disappointed?” asked Scott. “No,” said Liberty. “We came into this election to make waves, not win. I came within a heartbeat of upsetting a conservative seat. Waves don't come bigger than that. I don't think I'm really cut out for the life of a politician.” “In that case,” said Eddie, handing her his phone with the latest results showing, “I have some really bad news for you.”
@jamieraeallan.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 6:01 AM

Lots of pulses to choose from. This one I like, tho.
#WIPSnips #Writesky

Her sister’s skin cracked, burned, then healed in a sickening cycle beneath her tattered clothes, dark purple rivers coursing across the seared landscape. Air stuttered through her throat, every breath crying as it entered her dying lungs. Every muscle shook as if she were inside a blizzard. She would die here, after losing both Cady and her sister. Never did she dream that she’d fail them so spectacularly in the end. Aria raised a hand toward Riley, then jerked it back. Heat pulsed from Riley’s perfectly still body in waves, crashing warm against Aria’s frigid, clammy skin.
@rachels-memories.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 5:57 AM

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #WIPSnips #traumamakesdrama

‘Pulse’ in Skipping a Generation

"BUT I WAS AFRAID I'M TOO OLD, NOW. TO BE INITIATED." SILENCE — NO. NOT SILENCE. THERE IS THE POUNDING OF SCORPIUS' PULSE, THE QUIET RHYTHM OF GRANDFATHER'S BREATH ALONG HIS NECK, AND THE DRAG OF HIS THUMB AT SCORPIUS' JAW AS IT *OPENS* — "DO YOU *FEEL* TOO OLD?" "NO, I —“ LUCIUS STROKES SCORPIUS' JAW, COVERS HIS MOUTH — JUST FOR A MOMENT, AND SCORPIUS THINKS ABOUT TOUCHING HIS TONGUE TO THAT OPEN PALM — BUT IT IS ONLY A MOMENTARY THOUGHT, BECAUSE LUCIUS MOVES HIS HAND TO CUP SCORPIUS CHIN. AND ANGLE IT ENOUCH TO MEET SCORPIUS' EYES. "YOU *KNOW* ME, SCORPIUS. ALL OF YOUR YOUNG LIFE, YOU'VE *KNOWN*—“ "OH. NO, PLEASE DON'T —“ "WE'VE HAD *YEARS* TOGETHER -" NOT LIKE THIS. THIS IS *DIFFERENT.* IT IS — *EVERYTHING.*Skipping a Generation by rachels_memories DRACO IS TOO CONSUMED WITH GRIEF TO INITIATE HIS SON IN THE OLD WAYS. SO SCORPIUS CONVINCES HIS GRANDFATHER TO PERFORM THE RITUALS THAT WILL MAKE HIM A REAL MALFOY. LUCIUS IS HAPPY TO DO IT. FAMILY IS EVERYTHING.
@rachels-memories.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 5:54 AM

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #WIPSnips #traumamakesdrama

‘Pulse’ in Spellbound

*Speak,* Hermione." "I... it's..." She shakes her head, once. "Muggle-born — mud-bloods, we are - thought to be, inherently *less,* we are — thought to be — at a disadvantage..." "Are you now." "Yes —“ "Because of your 'dirty blood.' Mm? Your *filthy* —“ "No, I —“ Lucius slips his hand down to rest at the edge of her curvaceous clavicle. He lets his fingers encircle the base of her throat, thumb and fingertips touching the pulse on each side. It's a gentle hold, only a little threatening. "Shh, my dear." Hermione nods, or perhaps she is only stretching her neck for air. "Do you *like* being a *lesser* witch? No?" He laughs — and doesn't release his hand, even when she grasps at it. "Wait, Hermione. Wait, now."Spellbound by rachels_memories
@acturek.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 5:53 AM

#fantasy #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #WIPSnips #pulse

Shalhra comes for Drisal; his horse has not forgotten him.

- Brother’s Keeper, my fantasy WIP about two brothers bound by a misunderstood power

Drisal woke. Night still covered him, cold and unforgiving. Agony danced with nothingness and each kept him fast against the ground in their turn. His eyes closed again, his cheek rested on the earth and he felt a pulse. Faint but familiar, a rhythm beneath him, vibrating his stone-hard bed of frost, knocking gently on his heart. His eyelids fluttered. A sound came closer, a heartbeat racing in fours, in threes—ever so gently growing louder yet calming, slowing—threes, slower, now twos. Now four again, close, two twice, much closer—now silence. Drisal lay trembling, listening, afraid to stir a muscle until a loud, damp puff in his ear blew him over, onto his back. Thick hair dropped and tickled his face. Warm breath and nibbles on his chest and a low, soft whicker. He lifted his hand. Brother's Keeper A.C. Turek
@alyssalouttit.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 5:36 AM

#WIPSnips I might have laughed when I saw that this one was 'pulse'. So many choices considering I'm writing a vampire-centric story. I decided to go with the first time my FMC's pulse is mentioned.

She turned to look at her vanity. She didn’t wear makeup. Her mother only did for formal occasions. Besides, no amount of lip color or powder could fix what she lacked. She looked nothing like any of the Malstroms. No sign of fangs. Not a speck of red in her eyes. The one time she’d been told to drink blood like them she’d gotten ill enough to be bedridden for weeks. Her pulse was too loud. Her blood spilled too easily and for too long. Her body too frail. Her skin took on color too easy. Her hair curled and too light of a color.
@silassummersauthor.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 5:32 AM

#WIPSnips - October 12, 2026

Noble and Nyx are about to start the bonding ritual between vampires and humans, something that is a lifetime commitment between the two.

It starts with the vampire drinking some of the humans blood.

#TheRomanticTalesSeries #OwnVoice #WritingCommunity

“You don’t have to do this.” I spoke quietly with a bit of reverence. “This is only one step in the whole process of this partnership. I want you to understand what this means.” Noble rolled his eyes, “I’m not a child, Nyx. I know exactly what I am doing, I know exactly what I am offering, and I want this.” "And yet, you’re rolling your eyes like one," Nyx countered. Noble sighed but relented. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He stepped forward, his bare chest resting against mine. “Nyx, I want to be bonded. It will make us stronger. It will protect both of us. And, in the end of it all, I only see myself wanting you.” I cleared my throat, unused to these kinds of affirmations. After what seemed like hours of contemplating, I agreed. “Alright. I agree with you, hunter. You have shown me beauty I never would have seen otherwise.” Leaning my face to his neck, I checked one last time. “You’re sure?” “Yes.” With that final word, my fangs extended from my mouth and sunk into the pulse point on his neck.
@asteyni.bsky.socialOct 12, 2026, 5:28 AM

Surprised I don't have this one yet, but I do have a synonym or two.

From my sci-fi conspiracy story. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity

He sank into his dressing chair, and Viridian squatted down to clean the wound. Xe wasn't gentle. It hurt like a motherfucker. Viridian expertly sandwiched complaints and censure between schedule updates, but all of it fell on deaf ears. He hadn't lost that much blood—at least, he hadn't thought so—but the fading adrenaline and throbbing pain made it difficult to focus on anything else. His lieutenant mechanically stripped him out of his clothes and left him alone in the bathroom with stern instructions to finish cleaning himself up. Naturally, Rei ignored those entirely and curled up on the floor with his cheek and brow pressed against the cold marble tile.