Grilled Cheese

ExploreLog inSign up
Terms of UsePrivacy PolicyCommunity StandardsHelpGet the app

Grilled Cheese is a product of Village Compute

Version devBuilt at: 2026-10-15 13:20:56 EDT

Explore

PostsPeople
LatestRanked
Load more
@k13uanh.bsky.socialOct 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This is part of an unpublished #poem 'wash your armpits'.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.socialOct 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.socialOct 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.socialOct 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.
@tempestteapot.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 3:08 PM

#WIPSnips #amquerying #writesky #epicfantasy 💙📚 🪐📚

From my Epic Fantasy novel Demon’s Bargain. No one has heard from the saints in centuries until Kahyla's Ordeal.

One last chance to appease the saint before the next draw. Smearing blood down her arm, Zorrik tucked the haven inside the knot of linen against her skin. Surging up her arm, the saint’s presence crashed over her mind, overwhelming her thoughts. Parkith help me, don’t ever do that to me again. When you cut the connection in the garden, I barely got myself back into the haven before lockdown. Almost had parts of me lopped off like a half-eaten earthworm. More of the saint unfolded from the haven. I’m truly sorry about your brother. If half my clutch-mates had been killed, I’d be upset, too. Wrapping around her throat, the saint touched a nerve to make her breathe. “I, Podru, cousin of Parkith and scout in his clan,” said her body but not her voice. “Claim this daughter for Parkith.” Zorrik dropped the knife, which clattered unnoticed to the floor. “Now that formality is over,” the saint’s voice continued, deeper and louder than her own. “What in the void have you people been doing while I was sleeping?” Kahyla winced as Podru rummaged in her memories. “Why is my candidate restrained? Why was a full grown demon wandering loose? Where are my fellow saints? Where is Parkith?”
@gmgray.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 3:03 PM

#WritingCommunity #WIPSnips

I have several snips with "cousin" in both Triple Strike and Entropic Son, but funnily enough, two of them are about the tech, so I'm sharing both for compare-contrast 😅

(and yes, chelics are 100% MGS Gekkos with scorpion tails why do you ask 🫠)

As the official records of the Hummingbird popped onto one of Shailen’s monitors, the Kea’s communications officer said, “The Crimson Hummingbird is hailing us.” Shailen hesitated, casting a glance over the data, before agreeing, “Bring them up on the main view screen.” Hummingbirds were warbirds, the smallest of the fighting-class vessels. In a dead sprint, they were almost as fast as the scout-class Swallowtails, and when it came to a skirmish, they were just slightly less armed than their larger, predator-class cousins. Thus they made for the perfect vessel in a fire fight. Yet Hummers used a disproportionate amount of energy, both for Gating and propulsion, in addition to their even bigger drawback: a comically short range. Unlike other Navy ships, designed to be self-sufficient as they traveled between stars for months without dock maintenance, Hummingbirds spent most of their careers being serviced in port. This led to the joke that Hummingbird captains needed two Hummers — one to sail while the other remained docked. He wheezed as he fumbled through his pockets for his emergency stash. His hands trembled with almost comedic intensity as he tore at the individually packaged dose with his teeth. The pills popped out before he could seize them and tumbled to the ground. He cursed, and as his shaking hands fumbled for them, a mechanical screech cut through the screams and chaos. Dread whispered down Janus’ spine. It occurred to Janus that this stampede was not random misfortune, a peril of crowded marketplaces, nor the regrettable side effect of the Outskirts’ inevitable gang violence and assassinations. That was the sound of a chelic. Chelics were the bigger, meaner cousins of arachnids. They were not designed for patrol or reconnaissance. Chelics were Zephyr Corps' autonomous peacekeepers. They were built for assault and riot-control. Janus had never seen one in action, but he knew this distinctive sound from the periodic sweeps they did cleaning out the larger Outskirts gangs. Three chelics with no human assistance were enough to decimate an entire borough. Even one could end a full-on gang war.
@scandalfrombohemia.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 2:57 PM

#WIPSnips: cousin

Things we could do before cell phones and internet searches

#WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #WriterSky

Before the nurse left, I got her to tell me the time my father was coming to get me. I then called the school office and said I was Arielle's cousin and her great grandmother had died. Since Arielle had no more great grandmothers, she wasn't as upset as she would have otherwise been when she came to the phone. I told her to pick me up an hour before my dad was due.WIPSnips Prompt: cousin
@krovris.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 2:57 PM

It kept an eye on every sensor, every drone that patrolled the general area, every skyward-facing camera in case there were transports coming in to try raiding this place or any other in the immediate vicinity.

#WritingCommunity #Amwriting #sci-fi #horror #WIPsnips #Writesky #WritingPrompts

District 61’s outskirts boasted historical brick buildings, towers that only extended as high as 45 floors. This one was firmly under Eight’s control— the entire surrounding four blocks were. It kept an eye on every sensor, every drone that patrolled the general area, every skyward-facing camera in case there were transports coming in to try raiding this place or any other in the immediate vicinity. Of course that meant the entire building was fair game, and Dennis had the gall to choose the topmost floor as their shared living space. But the second floor had this lab and a lot of other very important things Eight liked to work on in its spare time— though none of its work involved bodies, here. Dennis would always pitch a fit at the mere thought of its more unethical work. And was he so wrong to raise his objections? Perhaps not.
@krovris.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 2:49 PM

... And to see all that come to an end over an oversight like this would be beyond heartbreaking. The loss of its company might just kill her.

--

#WritingCommunity #Amwriting #writesky #sci-fi #horror #WIPSnips #WritingPrompts

Ridgwell Farm was absolutely massive. The land itself was divided between her and her siblings, her mother and father, and a single cousin. Bianca lived in her cottage alone, and had an adjacent cabin with a basement that Eight used whenever it stayed on-site. The two worked together on projects of many kinds: it taught her how to dissect the human form and replace whatever needed replacing— organs, brains, skulls, limbs. The time they spent together was truly magical…And to see all that come to an end over an oversight like this would be beyond heartbreaking. The loss of its company might just kill her.
@kiraofthewind.comOct 11, 2026, 2:40 PM

#WIPSnips

From the snowball fight scene with the inn gang as kids vs. their cousins, Onion's daughters who later work on the farms but make occasional appearances.

Art shows Shanks and Turnip in their older teen years, but in this scene, they're about 8 years old

Welcome to the Good Thyme Inn She tossed snowball after snowball at the young Kraken boy, but he remained immovable, unfazed. Between Beetie’s tosses, Turnip risked throwing her own snowball. She hopped out from behind the tentacles, threw, and lunged back behind the safety of Shanks’s body. Through the small space between his tentacles, Turnip saw her own snowball hadn’t made it very far. Barely over the river, it landed far from Beetie’s feet. Turnip didn’t have the strength of her cousins. She couldn’t throw as hard or as fast as they could. “Use your breath,” Shanks suggested. Beetie hit Shanks several more times, each snowball as useless as the last. “Ugh, this is annoying! Come out and let me hit you so we can start a new game.” Turnip did as Beetie asked. Thinking she had surrendered, Beetie threw the snowball with little enthusiasm. Turnip threw hers, too… And hit Beetie hard in the chest. Shanks and Turnip drawn by Bear Pettigrew/Crossroad Art. The two characters are from the Good Thyme Inn series. Shanks is a tentacled Kraken-man with pink skin and some purple splotches. He has tentacles around his face and coming out of his back, as well as the lower half of his body instead of legs. He is wearing a plain brown apron. Turnip is a fox-like girl with purple fur from her chest up and white below. She has six visible tails in this picture, all of them very fluffy and white, tipped with purple. She's wearing a green, white, and pink waitress apron. She has white hair, big foxy ears, and fangs. The two are holding hands and looking at each other sweetly while sitting on a wooden bench
@jessmahler.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 2:35 PM

#WIPSnips Oct 11 -- Cousin
closest I've got is 'relative'
#HuntedAndCalled

Daniyal sat on a comfortable spot of roof and ignored the Field-Called's latest lecture. There was something about the former monk sitting next to them that bothered Daniyal. Montu appeared to gleam, as if lit by moonlight even though it was midday. The non-existent light was one Daniyal had seen often since being Called by Iowe the Moon. Each time it had meant something different, and they were still learning the nuances. Would be learning, they expected, for a very long time. Iowe was change given form, so of course their abilities as her Called would change. For years, living in the slums of the city, Daniyal had prayed for Iowe to bring them change. They didn't believe in big changes — escaping the slums, inheriting a large sum of money from a distant relative, getting a respectable job… Those kinds of changes were for others, and often brought as much destruction as benefit. They reminded Daniyal of lightning. But the little, small, daily changes of Iowe, those they had been able to believe in. To strive for. All too often, to fail at. But they never stopped believing, and that belief had brought them here. A lightning change for a follower of Iowe. It was almost humorous, but Daniyal couldn't help watching and waiting for the destruction that was sure to follow.
@pjccahill.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 2:34 PM

#WIPSnips -NICEF-
Subbed 'family' - This is early in the book, and Taegen has already deduced that Selene has a crush on her, AND Selene genuinely impressed her during the big duel, so she's trying to offer a kind of reward during their victory party. Loud music is playing.
Buy: pjccahill.carrd.co

Selene swallowed a lump, fidgeting her hands at her stomach as her eyes darted around. Such focused attention was enough to throw her for a loop, but serious praise was making her insides flutter nauseously. "I-I just disconnected the overload from the interface. I'm no medic." Taegen leaned close enough that her nose brushed some of the strands of hair at Selene's ear. "You knew what to stop, and you knew it needed to be done immediately. You had no hesitation. Please don't dismiss something so impressive." Selene caught the gasp in her throat, her eyes staring through everything straight ahead as her blush spread over most of her body. "...Have I offended?" followed in a gentler tone. Selene jerked herself out of her haze, leaning enough to look into Taegen's eyes... which she found tenderly concerned, perhaps a touch worried for any offense she might've given. Selene had to huff a breath to get her system moving again. "N-no, no! I'm sorry. I... don't know how to receive praise! I... Tough childhood. Family situation. Not much slack. Stuff like that." She resisted a groan, her eyes shutting at how little sense she was making. Taegen relaxed, smiling in that gentler manner again. "Ah, of course. Well, I don't mean to cause discomfort, but I assure you, I meant my words." She eased out from the wall with her smile. "Perhaps, if praise is uncomfortable, I could offer a dance?" Selene desperately tried to act calm, her head shivering a little tilt to one side as she squeaked something in her throat, then finally got out, "A d-dance?" Taegen offered her hand with just the barest touch of seduction to her smile and gaze again.
@ambooneauthor.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 2:30 PM

It turned out that Detective Choi was possessed by the essence of an Imirionian magician, who was *not* happy about having to share a body with a human. RIP.

From 40-something trans dude phantom thief WIP.

#WIPSnips

The next morning, Void woke me up around sunrise by poking me in the cheek. Lysander was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs crossed. “We need to talk,” they said, then sighed. “I know I fucked up,” I said quietly, rolling onto my back. “I got distracted.” Lysander matched Void’s sigh, but didn’t say anything. “It wasn’t your fault,” they finally said. “Things are starting to escalate, and you need to be on high alert.” “Right.” “The real elephant in the room is that detective,” Lysander said. “Only Royles should be able to hear Void, and only Royles and Madeiras should be able to see the dark magicks that haunt the Imirionian artwork and jewelry.” I nodded. “Maybe he’s not human and came here from Imirion?” Void shook their head. “He’d have to be a very powerful magic user to do that. Going from Imirion to Earth is difficult. It’s not something you can do accidentally.” “Oh. Uh… Maybe he’s related to the Royles or Madeiras?” The words felt stupid just coming out of my mouth. He was Asian. The Royles were Black and the Madeiras—from what Lysander had said—were Latino. Also, ew. If he was like… a cousin three times removed or something… I didn’t want to think about it.
@lousytshirt.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 2:23 PM

#WIPSnips from Monah Bk. 1 -- from Evlin's first visit to Monah's home. Wasn't sure I had this word, and I think I'll need to edit. They have cousins in Piatra, but she was looking for the English equivalent of the Romanian word. 😆🫠
#writesky #writingcommunity #queerwriters #writingprompts

“We? Are you a witch?” Now, I moved closer to her, reaching for her arms much as she’d taken mine earlier, though she was now awkwardly turned away from me to keep her attention on Joni. “I am; my mother’s lineage also comes from the Grey, and I gather my power from them. My father is of a different lineage; one that aligns with your father. In a way, as among the peoples here, you might call them ‘cousins.’” “What is this different lineage, Evlin? Why are you being so secretive about this?”
@poeticsofthemask.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 1:57 PM

Isabelle and Jason got too good at playing Ping-Pong by the normal rules, so they invented a slightly more chaotique version. #WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #cousin

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt: Jason stops at the ping-pong table and picks up a paddle, memorizing the way it feels in his hand, reenacting past swings. It’s the one with burn marks from when their cousin Virginia once put it down on a hot grill. He picks up a yellow ball. “Wanna play one more game before the world-ending storm hits?” Isabelle picks up an orange ball and a paddle of her own. “Our way?” Jason nods. They serve at the same time. Isabelle sends the orange ball towards the opposite side of the room; Jason sends the yellow ball towards the ceiling. Isabelle leaps to intercept the yellow ball before it hits the floor; Jason runs to hit the orange ball once it rolls down all the rungs of a ladder. Isabelle then bounces the orange ball off the backhoe while Jason returns the yellow one. The orange one rolls off Jason’s head and behind a crate of Halloween decorations. The yellow one brushes Nasrin’s cheek as she walks through the door. She catches it. “That doesn’t count as a drop!” Isabelle says. “It totally does!” Jason yells while trying to maneuver behind the crate. Isabelle can already hear the bouncing stop. “That does! Un punto para mí.” She takes the yellow ball from Nasrin and serves it again. In so doing she knocks the chainsaw off the wall. The sudden thump causes Jason to knock over the Halloween decorations and break a glass pumpkin. Jason cringes. “On the bright side, no one’ll see the mess if a hurricane blows it all way.” Isabelle lowers her paddle and looks at him with disappointment. “I still think we better play normal for a while.”
@tyrantofnothing.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 1:46 PM

Crossworld Nodus - The Afterstory, Chapter 2

Julian Young, a necromancer from the Guiltless Gang. He thinks he's second-in-command of the group because his cousin, Grayson, is the leader, but he's really just some punk who's semi-useful.

#WIPSnips

“Ophir!” someone yelled from the other side of the warehouse. “Stop drooling over Mal! You don’t want Gray to catch you, do ya?” Ophir jumped back like he was caught stealing some candy from the convenience store. He even grinned innocently as the speaker stepped forward. Julian Young, Grayson’s cousin and (self-proclaimed) right-hand man, sauntered over to Ophir and me. He dressed like the stereotypical college-aged slacker with one exception. A dark robe that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight was draped over his shoulders. The one souvenir Julian kept from his days in Tolkien. “W-we were just talking!” the round man defended, shrinking into himself as Julian came closer. “I wasn’t bothering her! J-Johnny was-... I-I’ll just go now…” Immediately, Ophir scurried away, following Johnny’s path and leaving me alone with the mage himself. “What a weasel,” Julian said smugly as he came to stand next to me. “If you want, I can have one of my familiars keep an eye on you to make sure the fatty doesn’t try anything.” He gave me a wide smile that made Ophir’s look like the picture of gentlemanly poise.
@swilkinsonwrites.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 1:33 PM

I used 'cousin' 41 times, so I went with a snip that nicely sums up the external plot. For context, the snip takes place just after Viv has downed 2 whiskeys in quick succession.

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity

“Not a wedding person?” Caden asked, trying for lightness while encouraging her to stay a few moments longer. For her mental stability, yes, but selfishness too. He liked the hint of attraction even if he ultimately screwed it up by comparing her to Celia. “Not when it involves my cousin marrying my ex, no.” Caden grimaced. And he thought his love life reeked. So much for lightening the mood. Glancing at the full table, he ruled out the possible suspects. Clearly not the man hovering at the edge of his seat, staring at the bar. What future groom acted like that? Assuming the ex was a man and not the woman in this scenario. “And not when I have to confess I lied about having a plus one.” Caden’s head snapped toward her voice, distracting him from his Where’s the Bride and Groom game. This poor woman. What had she done to piss off the relationship gods? What had he done? Oh, right. He obsessed over one woman whenever she deigned to drop him a few breadcrumbs. Like this rendezvous?
@gaycrimes92.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 1:21 PM

Here's a conversation between Roberto and his human boyfriend's cousin, Vince, who happens to be a cop. They are forced to work together, and Vince is (rightfully) suspicious of this vampire criminal dating his cousin.
#WIPSnips

His knuckles whiten around the steering wheel. “You need to leave Aiden alone,” he says. “I’m his cousin; I’ve looked out for him our whole lives, and I don’t care if you’re offended when I say you’re a dangerous person.” “He’s an adult, Detective.” “He hasn’t seen you like I have.” “And he never will. He’s not involved in this mess, and he will stay out of it.” Vince says nothing else until we park at the station. But instead of shutting off the car, he twists to face me. “You didn’t tell Aiden that I shot you,” he says. “Getting shot is hardly noteworthy,” I reply coldly. Vince makes a sharp exhale and shakes his head, then exits the car.
@beyondtheonions.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 1:13 PM

#WIPSnips #cousin (vibe) #writing #western #horror #fiction
Excerpt from the #novel Sunsetter, sequel to the #novel Weathervane -- a tale of ancient evil in the wilds of the west.
🤠 vs 🧛

*Bloodlines: Maddie reveals a secret - a common ancestry.

“Only whispers ever spoke of what became of Taamatik and the Mammoth Clan,” she continued. “Some said they fell, aged and small in number, they had become easy prey for the wolf. Others spoke of the world swallowing them whole; angered gods and a descent into madness – but truth of legend is just that, only legend to be whispered at the fires, to keep the little ones close. “It was Noah and his tragic tale that showed me what my people had never truly known. “The blood that flowed through Taamatik, that now flows through my veins and once through the heart of No ha is one and the same. And it was a son of the clan itself, that laid the people to waste.” She caught my motion to protest before I actually could. The fact she had communed with the fiend caused my inners to stir, both with concern and, yes, the pinch of a jealous twinge. I admonished those thoughts and settled myself, allowing her to continue. No ha, she said, was that son and in many ways still is. from the novel Sunsetter by Ross McDermottPhoto, no description
@scarletvmitchell.bsky.socialOct 11, 2026, 1:05 PM

#WIPSnips

The start of one of the later chapters in the mystery, where we take a moment to observe the rich history of our surroundings.

Talia has arrived at Woodhenge in southern Illinois…

(Note the tense change from past to present, briefly, as I nod to ongoing reality.)

Over a thousand years ago, just half a mile west of the dramatic Monks Mound, the people of Cahokia erected a ring of wooden posts. Other rings appeared in that same space over the course of hundreds of years, as the earlier versions rotted and were replaced with rings of increasing complexity. It is unknown if anything was attached to the posts, if they were carved or otherwise decorated, but it didn't appear to be a dwelling. There were no signs of domestic use. The only things that survived into the modern era were the distinct stains in the soil where the posts had rotted away. These were discovered when the state constructed the highway through the area. Most experts agree that, like its sandstone cousin on Salisbury Plain, it was likely some kind of clock or calendar by which the citizens of the bustling ancient metropolis ordered their days. It seems fairly clear that the posts aligned with solar events such as solstices and equinoxes. A reconstruction of one of the later variations of this ring was erected in the eighties, and public events marking those same solar movements have been celebrated each year since. Talia parked in the little lot next to the posts, eerie sentinels of a lost city, and watched as the sun dipped, blazing, behind the trees