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@wipsnips.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 6:56 PM

Here are the #WIPSnips words for October 12th - October 18th.

Synonyms, variations & ✨vibes✨ are fine, please include Alt Text on graphics with the snip text, Trigger/Content warnings if necessary, & no unsolicited editing on posts.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

The #WIPSnips words for October 12th through October 18th are: October 12 - pulse; October 13 - blue; October 14 - territory; October 15 - pass; October 16 - dazzle; October 17 - suit; October 18 - autumn.

@paulgbriggs.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 6:42 PM

#WIPSnips “First”—he turned to Arkhöa—“your cousin said to tell her before you take the copies to the rendezvous, right?”
“She did,” said Arkhöa, “but if I don’t tell her, I’m still going to a rendezvous she set up. So either the king’s men will be there anyway, or no one will be there.”

@mcleansix.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 6:36 PM

Lanzo shook with the uncontrolled weeping the sight of his broken #uncle pulled out of him. I quickly made my way through the garage to confirm we were alone. Whoever had killed Moreau was, for better or worse, not in the shop anymore. #WIPSnips #booksky #skywrite

@nvulnerabletide.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 6:27 PM

#WIPSnips, 9/29: Well

I don't know what this is. Maybe the opening of a short story?

White text on an ombre blue background, with a blue pencil off to thr right. The blue pencil is pointed downwards, as if to write.

The text reads:

"The well was old. The stones were the same gray limestone as the pebbles on the ground and the hill rising in the distance. My mind started to catalogue it all as a side-thought: probably quarried nearby, back when the quarry near town was still in use. Master stonework. The well looked weathered but not crumbling. There was no little roof to shelter the well from the rain, though there were bolts in the side where one may have been, and the bucket hanging over the well was coated in a fine patina of rust."

@norashear.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 5:55 PM

For today's #WIPSnips I had no "cousin" so I switched in "family."

In this one, Paige is remembering how Liese up & disappeared for a week, last year, & she hasn't been the same since.

(I REALLY need a new name for Liese.)

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

A dark image with white text that reads:

Liese had been keeping strange hours over the past year, sleeping long into the afternoon. When Paige had first met Liese, she was a bundle of energy, always running to one environmental event or another. But a little less than a year ago, during a time when dozens of people were being reported missing across Philly, Liese had gone to a party and hadn’t come home for days, her phone untraceable. Liese’s family had been frantic. Paige had been frantic.
Liese had returned to the apartment after a week, apologizing to everyone. But a few days later, she quit her job and as far as Paige could tell, she spent most of her time writing in bed or making smoothies. For a few weeks, Paige had tried to ask Liese if she was okay, but Liese had smiled like she had a delicious secret, promising that everything was wonderful. Paige had no idea how she was paying her half of the rent, but as long as they stayed housed, she wasn't going to complain.
Even if curiosity burned her up every so often.

- From NO SKY LIKE MIDNIGHT, by Nora Shear

The word "family" is in bold pink font. There are star decorations in each corner and a meteor decoration above the text.

@nicolelsopergorden.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 5:12 PM

Kip may or may not help Camden escape for a night away from his cousin Alex 🤭

From Tennyson's arc of The Atlas Brothers Break the Multiverse

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #AmWriting

Below, Alex devolved into cursing and speaking loudly to his friends, who sounded like they were protesting something in response.
“So, Alex?” Kip asked.
Camden winced. “He’s my cousin. My mom asked him to watch out for me at college. She didn’t want me to go at all. Wanted me at home until I reached mandate age. So Alex was her compromise – me living with him while I go to the university. But Alex and I have never gotten along well.”
Kip nodded. “He doesn’t like heights, does he?” he asked, feeling mischievous.
Camden snorted. “No, but he won’t admit it.”

@mikestruan.com Oct 11, 2026, 5:10 PM

I hate it when that happens and you just don't remember the name of someone... #WIPSnips
To be fair, dwarven families are extensive.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

“What are you doing here, Dagna? You’re not supposed to be here. You’re exiled, remember?”
So much for staying incognito. Now that she thought about it, she was sure she had seen the woman before. Wasn’t she the wife of one of her cousin’s half-sisters? She tried to remember her name, but came up blank.
“I know. I’m just…”
What would Valir do? Didn’t he say that stacking too many lies on top of each other made stories unbelievable?

@marcherwitch.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 4:49 PM

#WIPSnips

normal regency romances: soft, gentle conversatiobs filled with yearning and morès

my regency romance:

How did he stop men from Whitehall having him killed?

He couldn’t repudiate the title while his aunt and cousins lived in the country seat.

His shoulder slid against plaster as he levered his legs the rest of the way.

How did he tell Tess how much her ability to switch from sex to violence had rattled him when she’d done it to protect him? Her fingers slid into his, weaving her thumb around his.

Shaking out of his own head, Tobias turned to look at the fingers linked with his. Reaching out with his other hand, he drew the tattered glove away, padding and all. This was her injured left hand. He’d never seen it bare.

“It’s ugly.”

She was wrong. He’d never understood revulsion towards scars. Perhaps it was being a soldier, perhaps it was having his own. Still, the missing section of her hand, the two fingers and thumb that remained, while they were not revolting…

“I can only imagine how difficult it is to lose fingers.” He gently rubbed her knuckles. One had blistered and split and the other was red and swelling.

“Frost bite,” she was tense. Baring her hand troubled her more than beating a man while naked.

“Who cut them off? Althea?”

@patrickjohanneson.com Oct 11, 2026, 4:17 PM

#WIPSnips Oct. 11: "cousin"

A wintry interlude at the family farm.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #PrairieSFf

Christmas at the farm was a sedate affair. My Grandpa Ormansson, Mom's dad, cleared the land and broke it for farming in the early 1930s. He married Grandma in 1935 and they farmed till sometime around 1982, when Uncle Charlie—Mom's brother-in-law, Auntie Janet's husband—bought the place. But I always thought of the place as Grandma and Grandpa's place, and it never seemed to bother Uncle Charlie to hear it called that. Mom, for her part, always just called it "home". "We're going home for Christmas," she'd say, or "home for the weekend."

The whole world was white. Snow covered everything. My cousins John and Lori (Janet and Charlie's kids) and I were expected to spend a certain amount of time outside each day. We crunched through snow, past evergreens with their boughs bent nearly to the ground, wandering through the yard. We rested our forearms on the weather-silvered top rail of the barnyard fence, watching the cows walking between the three-walled shelter and the feed trough. We tried to throw snowballs at each other but knew it wasn't going to work because it was too cold and the snow was too dry to pack.

@olinj.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 4:14 PM

A #WIPSnips from the book I'm releasing at the end of the month. (link on my profile)

The smile faded from Zach’s amber eyes. Amber, like Kai’s. Before the wolf, I’d told myself they were probably relatives—cousins or half-siblings since they didn’t look alike in any other way—but now the color of his eyes made me wonder if Kai wasn’t the only werewolf at Hunter’s Glen. “No, he’s not here today.”

@robertjduperre.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 4:09 PM

The girls, brought on to investigate a string of murders in the town of Stockard, are about to perform an autopsy.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity
From Punga and the Silver Siren book 3, "A Murder of Beasts"

From what Reggie could see, Alaric’s body had been very well cared for. He looked just as pretty in death as he’d been in life, with his sandy-blond hair oiled and slicked back, even though his eyes and lips were stitched shut. His cheeks had sunken and his skin had developed a waxy, blue-gray appearance, but the cold seemed to have successfully held back full decomposition. More than a week after his death, the cadaver didn’t seem to have swelled very much, if at all. Then again, the only part of him currently visible was his head.
“Be careful with him,” Daniel said, his voice echoing in the small room.
“I promise he won’t be hurt,” Reggie snickered. She then nodded at Emiri, who grabbed the corner of the sheet covering the corpse and yanked it away.
“Well isn’t that something,” said Brian. Three feet to his left, on the other side of the door, his deputy let out a whimper.
Emiri looked like she’d just sucked a lemon, while Reggie clucked her tongue. “At least they didn’t touch his face, huh?”
“Hrm.”

@lockheartfiction.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 4:00 PM

#WIPSnips

Book 2 of Resist. Rollan just witnessed a recording that disturbs him.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

“Gerent Zach was the one who led the expedition,” Stone explained. “The man who died at their feet at the beginning of the clip was the gerent’s cousin.” They crossed their arms. “I’m sure you can understand my hesitation to help you.”
Rollan nodded. In fact, Rollan never expected to be led right to the tree. “Don’t then,” he sighed. “I can’t force you to trust me. Nor do I wish to. As I said, all I need is for you to not kill us.”
This was bad. Rollan rubbed his face as his mind led him back to the Fire Run. Nicolov was not the type to take something of power for altruistic reasons. He needed to send some type of call back to the UnderDistrict. They had to know that they were in danger. Rollan opened his mouth to ask when a knock interrupted. Stone stepped away to open it.
With a smile and a nod, Tack said, “They are here.”
“Let them know that we will be just a moment,” Stone responded. Turning back to Rollan, they said, “The other gerents are here to meet with you. They are the ones you will need to convince. Not me.”

@caseyadamsstark.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 3:53 PM

The commander was indeed keeping watch for signals from his young cousin Francis Drake. He watched the shoreline activity through a spyglass, that fire being his center of focus. "Ready the cannons," he had said to his master gunner waiting dutifully by his side. "Just in case."

#WIPSnips

@maikelyarimizu.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 3:45 PM

Running a little behind this weekend, but the #WIPSnips for Oct. 10 was 'fuzzy'

A good adjective for an animal, but in the #mythic fantasy, it's actually used for a flower

excerpt from 'How a Bride Found Lohiau' in the book 'Sea of Life, Heart of Fire' by Maikel Yarimizu
the word 'fuzzy' is highlighted
---

With a sigh of annoyance, Hulikali planted her knees in the deep moss and bowed to the plant. “O great mess of foliage, your leaves are mostly straight and your color is a decent enough shade of green, I suppose. Sorry am I for any rudeness. Now may we please have some flowers? I say farewell to friends this night, and your blooms make fine decoration. Please?”
There was a question of how much the bush could understand, even with the spiritual force so evident within its branches. Did it know words, as well as action? If so, did it have a grasp of tone and expression? Puanani might have known, but the green fairy girl was not here, and so the two of them were about to learn some of the truth for themselves through experience.
Those boughs of green dipped once more before spreading themselves wide to reveal delicate blooms. Lehua flowers are fan-shaped and fuzzy, more a spray of wispy individuals than a single blossom. Along their tips they carry traces of that powder which plants share between themselves, and at their roots is a honeyed dew so treasured by birds and bees. As the flowers were now revealed, their little friend the honey-creeper looked up from its meal of sweet dew, blinked at them, and then sang its farewell as it took wing.
The bush no longer avoided their touch, its soft leaves caressing them as they picked fresh blooms—white from the left side and red from the right. They bowed again in thanks before quitting the glen for the sunny sands of the cove.
“We have just paid our respects to a bush.” It was a statement, but Hulikali made it sound like a question directed at the very nature of reality itself.

@k13uanh.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 3:37 PM

This is part of an unpublished #poem 'wash your armpits'. Inspired by a #cousin who has since, improved his grooming. I would never be this disparaging but this is the type of intimacy family has. It's silly but it's in the submission pipeline. It may end up here anyway 😛
#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity

I've told you, dear cousin

on many occasions to

wash your armpits

but the audacity to not even care?

with odour emanating

from soggy cardboard

soaked by layers of dog piss

baked in the sun

Poem by @k13uanh

@bornangelauthor.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 3:36 PM

#WIPSnips Today's comes from A BRAVE SACRIFICE, Book 2 of the Kalista Chronicles as I edit and reformat it, since the last format was messy on the back end. It looked good in print and ebook, but it was a mess. ANYWAY, ⚠️FIGHT SCENE⚠️ AND BANTER!
#UF🌃📚 #PNR🔮📚 #WriteSky #BookSky #FightScene

Snapshot Dark Mode Document: A BRAVE SACRIFICE, Chapter 15 of 22

He leapt up, scales growing from his forearm again as his skin mottled black, but the rest remained tan. I watched, hand inches from my knife, and waited for the right moment to strike.

“I like my women feisty. You should know this by now, Iliana.” He lunged again and propelled himself with Angelic speed. I manifested a silver staff, threw it up, and held firmly in both hands. The sword screeched as it hit the staff sending out sparks. “If only you were blonde.”

“We’re not here to talk about me. I’m here to talk about you,” I growled and shoved him back. He slid back a foot, planted both feet to stop himself, and flashed a grin. On anyone else, I would have called it dashing, but he made it awkward like having to kiss your cousin during spin the bottle.

“Pray tell, what have you learned about me?” he asked as I twirled the staff in my left hand. I took a slow deliberate step to the left, and he stepped to the right.

@thebrambler13.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 3:32 PM

I don't have "cousin" in this #WIPSnips, but my readers can tell you I'm very specific about how I describe people's features. So, the fact I ued "dirt-black hair" here was a very deliberate connection to Ata.

Also, his name is pronounced "Kil".
#Raven+Bear #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #shortstory

An excerpt from The Eisteddfod (Raven & Bear: 6) by Bramble.

Transcript:
Sir Corbyn spoke first, “apologies young lord, do I know you?”

“My name is Cul,” each of his gasps emerged in a cloud of fog, punctured by needle-thin raindrops, “no need for titles. I know a knight of Branwen holds authority equal to a vassal.”

“Then, Cul, can I help you.” The knight held that umbrella over him, tone sterner than sea salt, “you were watching me.”

“No Sir, your page.” He straightened up, “I found them oddly familiar and can’t place it. Have you ever been to Celliwig?”

“Aye, though not with her,” a patient glare pummelled this youthful noble, who shivered pitifully. Each word from Sir Corbyn broke against Cul’s ears as waves did cliffs, “before we met a year ago, she had never left Dinas Glyndŵr in Gwynedd.”

“Then I must have the wrong of it and I’ll leave you be.”

After a nervous apology and swift farewell, that boy hurried into a downpour which washed out any colour. The old man’s cold stare darted toward his familiar dirt-black hair and rounded features when he passed by. A resemblance, he was certain. It nearly tempted Sir Corbyn to call Cul back. Yet, a great weight dragged down any words until they drowned inside him.

[End]

@bornangelauthor.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 3:21 PM

#WIPSnips missed yesterday cause I was busy with art, editing the last chapter of A BORN ANGEL, and writing the Epilogue. NOW, here is a 😬 moment from Chapter 22 of 24. When Best Friends "fight"... #UF🌃📚 #WriteSky #Book1 #Booksky

Snapshot of PDF document A BORN ANGEL, Chapter 22:

Ramah wanted me to ask about your mystery man. I remember talking with you about him but it’s fuzzy,” he said with a glance in my direction. I stopped and pulled him back a step.

He turned to me with my wrist pinned, and I stared at his mismatched eyes. Would he remember everything or just things that people told him? I let my subconscious slip into his mind and find the memories of that moment, feeling guilty for even daring it. He didn’t remember everything. The memory of me telling him to forget was gone. Everything was going to be fine. I pulled from his mind and stared at his eyes again.

“He’s a friend of my father. That’s all I’m going to say,” I replied, firm and unyielding.

We stared each other down, and I heard his thoughts: ‘She can’t think that she can keep him a secret forever. Why is she being stubborn?’

“I’m stubborn because you won’t understand, and you’re jealous,” I said, yanking my hand from his arm. He stared at me, and I shook my head.