🫜Tara S Geir🫜 (@tarasgeir.bsky.social)

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 16, 2026, 8:02 PM

Yeah, ‘boy’ was such an interesting book and still think of some of the stories.

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 16, 2026, 2:23 PM

Maybe a vodka and coke. Need to create some courage to talk to people.

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 16, 2026, 6:28 AM

#LitHodgepodge
There are so many on Bluesky and beyond but I’ll go gremlin energy and suggest Roald Dahl and David Walliams as think Dahl would rip into Walliams and I’d sit back and eat popcorn.

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@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 16, 2026, 6:24 AM

Thanks Teisha! Hopefully book tour one day. Though I’m surprised you picked @jimthevampire.bsky.social in the living category. 😉

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 16, 2026, 6:22 AM

Wow, it’s so atmospheric. Great picture!

@barrows.itch.io Oct 14, 2026, 8:05 AMReposted by @tarasgeir.bsky.social

#WIPSnips

Stoneheart is an asshole

"You will work for your stay. This, the Dowager commands."

"And what does she need of us?"

"She needs nothing from you." The Outsider bristles. "You need her, and you will do as she commands, or die."

"What does she command, then?"

"There are whispers of godshard trafficking in the Dowager's territory," he says. "A foreign operation. They have claimed domain over Burnhollow Row and refuse to negotiate with our agents." Their sickles rub against each other hungrily. "It is unacceptable."

"Then why doesn't the Dowager do something about it?"

"She is," Stoneheart hisses. "She is sending you."

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 14, 2026, 6:32 AM

No chance at all!

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 14, 2026, 6:09 AM

No territory but soooo many districts. The aftermath of when a district has been burnt down. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

The fire that had coursed through the district now seemed to be dampening down. Strope tried to see if other wizards were there to help as he'd tried.

There was only one.

Out of the darkness and flames emerged a figured dressed in startling white robes. Their golden curls shone like a hallowed aura and their glistening cloak billowed behind them. Not a speck of ash or dust had caught them. A cascade of light dripped from their fingers only to float upwards into the night and dart into the broken buildings. More flames were dragged from wherever the light touched and all the glowing figure did was stand and watch. When Karl dragged Strope past, he looked up at the face of the one who tried to stop the carnage.

Grio responded with a smile and a wink.

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 14, 2026, 5:46 AM

#LitHodgepodge
I really enjoy comparing buildings to nature and thought this simile worked for a village after a raid. And thought the second excerpt worked well for a character who's obsessed with food to describe a city with a huge wealth disparity that has been largely unnoticed.

The village was like a ring of mushrooms that had been trodden on by some careless child.

These last weeks had given Strope a belly full of disgust for Dragaul. He'd spent his life skimming on the surface of the city, a delicate crust that covered a putrid feast for those who lived above.

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 13, 2026, 9:20 PM

Simile and metaphors! The only grammar terms I understand!

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 13, 2026, 1:54 PM

#LitHodgepodge
Thanks for the examples, Pam. Even though it's a city, Dragaul has been created as a jail for a god so there's a feeling of confinement and a desperation for both freedom and a better life, which is what the god promises those who will release her.

@tinaduncan.bsky.social Oct 13, 2026, 7:02 AMReposted by @tarasgeir.bsky.social

It’s been a little while since I’ve done a #WIPSnip
Colour plays a big role in the magic system in my stories, so there was a lot of mentions of blue.
This one is from the prologue of the trilogy, when we get a little insight into Mòrag’s motivations.

The choice wasn’t really made there, in that vault. Mòrag had already decided, from the second she had seen it - such an obnoxiously bright burst of magic for a mere witch in training, with far more blue to it than she’d seen in centuries, and the girl didn’t even break a sweat. This girl was the best chance she had ever had. A gift from the universe, and likely the last. One last, final chance, before she would have to admit to herself that it was over.

@barrows.itch.io Oct 13, 2026, 8:09 AMReposted by @tarasgeir.bsky.social

#WIPSnips

A little bit of worldbuilding regarding the underground Trails and how the most traversed paths remain illuminated.

At the helm, sitting atop a bull tamoe's horns, a human man in a full suit of chitin armor breaks off from the caravan and leads his mount towards the nearest beacon. Upon reaching it, he jumps to the floor, reaches into a pouch, and leaves a tithe of tamoe tallow on the glass bowl. The luminous insects swarm around it with renewed vigor, flashing in hues of dark-blue and violet, and feast on the offering. The caravan leader carefully shakes the writhing winks from his grease-covered hand and shouts at his mount to resume. It does.

@jmweaverauthor.bsky.social Oct 13, 2026, 5:37 AMReposted by @tarasgeir.bsky.social

#WIPSnips

Here's one from very early in Savage as You. An exchange I always liked a lot between Hailey and her mom. Dutiful readers will remember she definitely doesn't *just* take her wheelchair the first day. But she'd have to admit her mom was right sooo let's just spackle over that!

Finishing my makeup with a healthy dose of setting spray, I admired my reflection, then the fresh coat of polish on my nails, a shimmery blue, same shade as my eyes. I stared at them; they made me smile.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” my mom said, parked in my doorway, watching me.

“Thank you,” I said, in a tiny voice.

“How’s your leg?”

“Still attached.”

She smiled warmly, coming to my side, kneeling to reach my eye level. One hand through my hair, to my cheek. “My beautiful girl,” she said, kissing my forehead. “I have your wheelchair ready downstairs—we can stop at Wawa for breakfast.”

“My wheelchair? But . . . I’m just gonna use my cane.”

“I know, you don’t wanna feel so vulnerable around the other students, but, look . . . you haven’t been on your leg for more than forty minutes or so since the accident. We don’t know how much stress your knee can take yet.”

My mom was a very caring woman, almost to a fault. “Mom, I’ll be fine. It’s school, not a line at Disney World. I won’t actually be doing a whole lot of standing.”

“Please, Hailey. Just for today. For me.”

Aaaand now I’ll feel guilty all day if I don’t take it. “OK, Mom. But just for today.”

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 13, 2026, 6:17 AM

A description of one of the more destitute areas of the city, the religious district called the Orbo. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

Worn statues and moss covered buildings lined the weed-covered streets. The only plants that grew this low in the city and they grew in abundance. Damp clutched the foundations of the once pristine temples and the few remaining acolytes begged in the street. Their hand-me-down robes were once blue and white but were now grey and worn. Karl put his hand over his heart as he passed each of them. He may have no funds to share but he had respect.

Strope mirrored Karl but it was half-hearted and he cringed in embarrassment as they passed each of them. Most of them were children, the Orbo took in any unwanted child and the elders of the district did their best to find them adoptive parents or apprenticeships once they reached the age of five. These were the ones who no one wanted to take on and Strope felt a degree of sympathy for them. If it hadn't been for his aunt then it was likely he would have joined their fate.

@woodenvelt.bsky.social Oct 12, 2026, 11:57 AMReposted by @tarasgeir.bsky.social

I couldn't resist sharing Wren and Spencer's first kiss.

From Thief of Death, my romantic fantasy about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold.

#WIPSnips #Wrencer #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

“Shhh.” It was barely a sound, the gentle whisper of Spencer’s breath against her skin.
“Give me something else to think about.” She breathed the words into the space between his collar and jaw, uncertain what she was asking for. But Spencer knew— how did he always know? His mouth pressed against hers in a kiss that shoved the terror back down before it could gain any purchase.
Wren curled her hands into folds of his shirt, tugging him closer. Lips parted, she drank in Spencer’s breath and let his tongue trace a trail of hungry fire inside her mouth. One arm was trapped, pillowed beneath them, but his free hand moved, roaming over Wren’s thigh and then her hip, finally resting against the small of her back. She arched into him, sliding a hand up his chest and over his shoulder until it curled around the back of his neck, locking him into the kiss until they had to break free or pass out from lack of air.
Wren buried her face against Spencer’s shoulder to cover the smile that spread foolishly across her face. No one could see her in the dark, but still she felt the urge to hide. He pressed a kiss against her hair and she returned it in kind, a soft peck against his collarbone that made a shiver course through him. Wren’s pulse was racing again, but for an entirely different reason. Maybe that had been Spencer’s plan all along. It was difficult to panic about being trapped at the bottom of a grave if she was panicking instead about desperately wanting to kiss him again.

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 12, 2026, 9:04 AM

Ngl, I was thinking of the goo in Ghostbusters 2 with this snip.
A brief glimpse of the god inside Slate. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

There was no longer any flash, now Slate's eyes pulsed a vivid shade of blue. Brighter than a clear, summer sky. For something that should have been a comfort, all Halla now felt was a chilling fear. Slate's face changed subtly. It became blanker and her skin was clear but also had a waxy sheen. A mask that had pushed its way up through her pores.

"They're trying to free her."

The voice wasn't Slate's and the face was one Halla had seen many times in the Orbo. Cracked and weathered above temple entrances. The Fifth Sister, Calchas. Halla caught her breath, feeling cold air rattle through her teeth. She had witnessed a god so many times, but the Sixth Sister had been cowed and pathetic. This god was none of that. Her eyes blazed with such a heat that Halla expected Slate's face to shrivel.

Instead, it melted.

Slathers of pink slime began to run down Slate's head, from forehead to chin.

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 11, 2026, 5:34 AM

I use Ellipsus as find it more personal, it’s anti-AI and I can use it as easily on my phone/laptop as Googledocs.

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 10, 2026, 12:40 PM

All good but Seymour is now sleek rather than scruffy!

@tarasgeir.bsky.social Oct 10, 2026, 8:23 AM

Maybe he needs to get a new dynamite supplier. Keep away from Acme! Also, you’re back!