Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
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acturek.bsky.social
Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
@acturek.bsky.social
990 followers 930 following 4.4K posts
Writes character driven adult fantasy.
WIP: Brother’s Keeper, epic fantasy sibling story
Lives with bipolar - @siegeofthespirit
Clinical Laboratory Scientist
Mountain backcountry horsewoman
🚫politics🚫
Every trail’s the one true home.
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acturek.bsky.social
Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak @acturek.bsky.social · Nov 23
Two brothers—one accursed, one gifted—struggle with the Power of an empathic bond unseen for centuries. As Rushak seeks to escape his curse, Drisal must wield it as evil arises to threaten the world. But the prophesied Power can return only once, and the Shining One is … somebody else. #WIPPIT #F #A
Image: Mood board for Brother’s Keeper WIP: A block of seven images around a central one. Central image: white text on brown background that reads: “Born to be sacrificed: Drowned, shed, burnt and buried, a sin offering for his people. Had he been, all would be free. But he had not, and they weren't. He could never forget it. Brother’s Keeper (working title) A.C. Turek Surrounding images clockwise from center left: column of bonfire, running gray horse, green water, a hand holding a quartz crystal, a view looking up immense tree trunks, a waterfall, a view looking down on a vibrant green forest.
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
dennycore.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity

Gotta say, it's very funny that the only instance of the word "formation" in this lengthy WIP that's very concerned with military and tactics is in a description of...lamps. A sign I should go back over some sections and punch up some descriptions...
The meeting room itself was shadowy, light thrown at strange angles from a dozen green-shaded desk lamps that lined the table in a staggered formation. The Minister was sitting at the head of the table, fingers steepled, great plumes of cigar smoke caught swirling spectrally in that dusty greenish glow. Flanking him on either side of the table were the Colonel and Alex. All three were staring at a TV; Alex staring wide-eyed and fearful, the Colonel with a look of deep-lined grim concern, and the Minister with a flat, blankly intellectual expression.
January 29, 2026 at 2:49 PM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
arachnereid.bsky.social
#WIPsnips
So far, the flatscreen map had been mostly correct in its depictions of water and mountain formations. Piles of debris, fallen bridges, and growing thickets were less predictable. They traveled further and further away from everything they knew.
January 29, 2026 at 3:25 PM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
tellthestory.bsky.social
Luke finds his tribe, though he knows it won't last. #WIPsnips #formation #writesky
They were news nerds. He and Pam, even though Pam had graduated and was now seeing what she thought about grad school while simultaneously applying to news organizations all over the mainland, had become friends and together formed a club for journalism students called The Ink-Stained Wretches. The Wretches went out for kalua pig quesadillas and cheesy potato skins at Moose McGillicuddy’s, at the end of which, Bev would fight anyone for the check like it was a blood sport, good Japanese girl that she was.
January 29, 2026 at 3:39 PM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
sptroweresq.bsky.social
Today in #WIPSnips, a throwback to Bit#1 of the Ambivalence Chronicles, and Phil's first encounter with the Assembly.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity ##WritingPrompts
At some point, while Phil had been asleep, the room had filled with the sort of people who wore suits and went everywhere in formation; specifically, there was one small, serious looking man in a sharp suit, flanked by a large, serious looking man in a suit to one side and a tall, serious looking woman in a suit to the other. ‘Who are you supposed to be?’ Phil asked. ‘The Fairy Godfather?’ The small man stepped forward. ‘We represent the Assembly of Newly Uplifted Systems.’ Phil did some mental acrostics and raised an eyebrow at the man. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘Really,’ the short man said simply. ‘You didn’t think...’ Phil started, then said, ‘never mind.’ ‘Is there a problem?’ ‘No no,’ Phil said. ‘Please, go on.’ ‘As I said, we represent the Assembly of Newly Uplifted Systems. And we believe there is something here that belongs with us.’ He spoke with a slightly threatening manner and a gentle Lancastrian accent, as if Fred Dibnah’s more urbane offspring had joined the Illuminati at some point. from Bit#1: The Chip Whisperer
January 29, 2026 at 4:06 PM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
pjccahill.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - Demon King Daughter - I've used this scene before, but the word fit perfectly, so you get it again! A moment in Himari's perspective, and part of the pressure she's lived under.
#writesky #writingcommunity #fantasy #yafiction #paladin #witch #wlw
-Print/eBook: a.co/d/9WbG4e5
Himari was also the only trainee present without a blessed weapon in hand. Tetsuyo and the rest of their usual group defaulted into a half-circle ahead of her. It was a formation she'd tried to speak out against, but no one would let the Hara heir go forward exposed. No one cared that she could blast most training-level demons away with one spell, shield against almost every attack or curse they could muster, and heal some truly grievous wounds as if they'd never happened. She was the Lord Commander's granddaughter. Nothing else mattered. #WIPSnips a Bluesky Writing Community Tag Hosted by rosie-j-potter.bsky.social January 26th through February 1st. January 26th - commit January 27th - storm January 28th - procrastinate January 29th - formation January 30th - suggest January 31st - academy February 1st - zeal
January 29, 2026 at 4:05 PM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
lynnpeyo.bsky.social
He came with thunder. I miss him. The thunder, I miss the thunder 🌩️

The first few paragraphs of one of my shorts, in revision ✨

#vss365 #obfuscate #WIPSnips #formation #storm #amwriting #writersofbluesky
He came on a stormy night, when the earth felt hollow and the skies drank deep. I felt him on the edge of my awareness, like waves of thunder rolling over the mountain tops, crashing against each other in impossible formations, diving into the clouds, muffling themselves, muted, harmless, before erupting in mind-shattering clarity, growing louder with each obfuscated heartbeat I tried to listen, counting the seconds between sound and vision, trying to figure out which direction he was coming from. There was no sound, at first. No vision, either. Only that sensation of a presence just out of reach. I would sit, chin pressing down, shoulders tense, subtly turning my head from side to side, as if trying to echo locate the disruption, without making the disruption aware of my knowing it was there. Telling myself that surely, I must be making this up. Yet despite my efforts to explain it away, the pressure would not leave. Instead, the location of its presence became more precise. A tingling sensation just behind my right ear. A shiver running from my shoulder down my spine, then chasing its tail back up my neck in a line of raised hairs and an intensity that forced a soft sound from my lips. I remember how very aware I suddenly became of my own heartbeat. Not that it beat any faster. Just that I could feel it, heavy, in my chest. Like an anchor, pulling me down, with my breath an opposite force, pulling me back up. Down, up, down, up. Down, down, up. Down, down, down, up, up, up.
January 29, 2026 at 7:47 PM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
sdwrites42.bsky.social
From the novel I’m querying, “The Boy With Magic in His Bones” Best I could do…

#WIPSnips #AmQuerying #WritingCommunity
January 29, 2026 at 7:58 PM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
professoremily.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writers #writesky

"Formation" -> "structure"

From Mem & Light's first date, before they become enemies. The place he points out here is where her mother died 😢

From #Charagma, my SFF dystopia where all people are marked saved or damned from birth.
They’d come upon a numen bridge now, spanning the gap between East and West St. Verity’s District. Through the translucent floor of light beneath their feet, Mem could see down into the lower districts that floated beneath them—and beyond that, only pitch darkness, where she knew lay Terra Tenebrae, though it was easy to believe there was nothing down there at all. Light touched her arm and pointed up to a tall tower off toward their right, visible over the other structures of the city despite being a fair distance away. “That’s the Garden of the Sky,” he said, “up there at the top. Highest point in the whole city. Have you ever been there?” A dark cloud descended over Mem’s soul. She did not look up at the garden. “Not in a long time.” “It’s beautiful,” he said, not noticing the change in her mood. “Perhaps I could take you there sometime? You know, they say—” “No,” Mem cut him off, harsher than she meant to be. Guilt stung her when she saw the surprised look on his face. “No, I’m sorry,” she said, in a gentler tone. “I’d love to go anywhere with you, Light. Almost anywhere. But not there.”
January 29, 2026 at 2:58 PM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
theronshan3666.bsky.social
-Formation-Arrangement-

The colonists throw an entirely different type of tea party

#WIPSnips #WriteSky
#WritingCommunity #AmWriting #ColonialHistory #HistoricalFiction #NativeAmerican #Algonquin
Boston Harbor -18 December 1773 The harbor was dark, lanterns bobbing like fireflies along the dock. Crates of tea sat stacked behind them, guarded by nervous men pretending they were not about to commit treason. Kitchi stood with several of his people, arms crossed, faces unreadable. The war chief remained silent, his presence alone commanding respect. Samuel Adams cleared his throat. "You have to understand," John began, stiff as ever. "My people have been oppressed for a long time. Our king rules us through tyranny. Taxes, control, laws made an ocean away. We wish to be free from his bureaucracy and manipulation." Samuel nodded. "We're desperate to be heard. This... spectacle... it makes a statement." Kitchi's jaw tightened. "And you must understand," he said evenly, "white men dressing as my people is offensive." The war chief stepped forward. "You borrow our faces when it suits you," he said. "But you do not live our suffering. You do not lose your children to disease brought by your ships. You do not lose your land to your papers." Silence fell heavy. Jeremiah swallowed. He hadn't realized his fists were clenched until his nails bit his palms. John shifted uncomfortably. "We meant no disrespect." "But you show it anyway," Kitchi said. "You wear our skins as costume." Samuel sighed. "We're trying to hide our identities. To protect ourselves." "And we have spent generations hiding from you," the chief replied calmly. "There is a difference." Jonas, leaning against a post, muttered, "Well... that landed like a cannonball." Jeremiah shot him a look. Kitchi turned to Jeremiah, his eyes searching. "You have been learning. You tell them." Jeremiah froze, Then breathed. "They want to be free," he said quietly. "But freedom taken by copying another people's pain is not freedom. It's theft." John stiffened. "Are you calling us thieves now?" Jeremiah met his gaze. "No. I'm calling us careless." Samuel rubbed his face. "We didn't think-" "That," Kitchi said, "is the problem." The war chief studied them. "You want allies," he said. "Then listen." Jonas straightened. For once, he was silent. John nodded slowly. "Then tell us." "Do not wear our faces," the chief said. "Fight your war as yourselves. Do not make us symbols for a battle we did not start." Samuel exhaled. "You're right." John hesitated. Then nodded too. "You're right." A long moment passed. "Then what should we do?" Samuel asked. Kitchi answered softly. "Be brave enough to stand as who you are." Jonas grinned. "I do that daily." No one laughed, But the tension eased just slightly. Jeremiah looked at Kitchi, pride swelling quietly in his chest. This was what it meant to stand between worlds. To tell hard truths, Even to friends. The first crate hit the water with a splash that echoed across the harbor. Men cheered, low and fierce, as the tea burst open, dark leaves spilling like ink into the black sea. Another crate followed. Then another. Samuel Adams climbed onto a barrel. "No violence! No stealing! Tonight we make our point and go home!" The crowd roared. Jeremiah stood back, heart pounding, watching men he knew suddenly become ghosts in the dark - faces hidden, voices lowered. Some still wore the borrowed disguises, though now they hesitated, uneasy after Kitchi's words. John Adams leaned toward Jeremiah. "This is madness." Jeremiah whispered back, "History often is."
January 29, 2026 at 2:01 PM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
sbakelar.bsky.social
#WIPSnips | Formation
No formations, going with structure.
#dragon #climateapocalypse #fantasy #sci-fantasy #WritingCommunity #WriteSky
Of course, while the caldera was still considered active, no one dared build too permanently. This meant the once thriving city was a small town of single-story wooden structures; quickly built and easily replaced when the next ashcloud puffed their way across the high plains.
January 29, 2026 at 1:11 PM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
amber-hathaway.bsky.social
Book 1:

The color had evaporated from his skin, except for the dark circles underneath his eyes. His curls protruded from his head in twisting formations. His gaunt face mirrored her own, drawn thin in all the wrong places to give him a sunken-in, corpse-like visage.

#WIPSnips
January 29, 2026 at 1:03 PM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
drkimiww.bsky.social
Pt384
Sonoria quickly led them down a short path to a large rock #formation, moving aside some branches that #obfuscated the mouth of a cavern just large enough for the horse to enter with them. The branches snapped back, leaving them in darkness. Sonoria fumbled with the supplies.
#vss365 #WIPSnips
January 29, 2026 at 12:49 PM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
woodenvelt.bsky.social
Spencer and company are greeted by an unusual welcoming party.

From book 2 of my romantasy wip about a priest of the dead and a thief with a heart of gold.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #Wrencer
There was no law of nature that said spirits only came out at night. People died at all hours, so it made sense that their shades might appear at any time. In spite of this, in Spencer’s experience, the dead seemed to favor darkness. Even in daylight hours, they preferred dimly lit tombs or darkened hallways or shadowy attics. The only spirit he knew who didn’t seem to care one way or another was Reggie. Maybe it was some deeply ingrained belief that the dead carried with them beyond the Veil, some sense the light belonged to the living. Whatever it was, it made the sudden appearance of five ghosts under the gray light of day all the more unsettling. They wore robes woven with bold lines of red, yellow, and orange that intersected in intricate patterns. Wrists and necks were adorned with glittering gold torques inset with smoothly rounded gemstones and dangling with red-brown hawk feathers. Between the gaunt, grayish skin pulled tightly over their skulls, the feathers, and the way they stood in a vee formation, the spirits looked a bit like a grisly flock of very strange birds. The lead spirit sported a large headdress filled with a variety of feathers and a golden collar dripping with gems and beads. In sharp contrast to their dull skin, the spirits’ clothes and adornments were as bright and new as if they’d been freshly pulled off the loom. “This is your department,” Bruce whispered sharply, nudging Spencer with a sharp elbow in the ribs.
January 29, 2026 at 12:27 PM
acturek.bsky.social
#fantasy #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #WIPSnips #formation

Hounded through the hills by Kudrum and worse, Cerel and company draw near the Agents’ hideout.

- From Brother’s Keeper, first book of my fantasy WIP about two brothers bound by a misunderstood power.
They moved through the forest along the rounded crest of a ridge where the snow topped the horses' knees, slowing their progress. Darkness flew down over the hills, disgorging clouds that obliterated the stars. The cold and weary travelers urged their tired mounts on, and Rush suffered and Drisal wept, and the darkness hounded them until at last Theris halted. “We are nearly there. If they decide not to act, we will simply disappear to their eyes. Stay close." Drisal rode downhill alongside the drag and Cerel stayed close, ready to help if need be. Rock FORMATIONS sprang up to either side, leering like knobby trolls with teeth of ice. A stack of heads loomed over them, carved from a single column of stone: the ancient signpost marking Del Gorrian. The heads wore the faces of all the races and sentient creatures of Rhadhallon. Drisal did not look, but his brother stared at it as long as he could see it. Brother's Keeper A.C. Turek
January 29, 2026 at 1:01 PM
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charliedeltawrites.bsky.social
January 29th – formation

Ol’ren is a spy, sent to do a dirty job in an attempt to delay an advancing army.

Whether or not this went too far will become a point of contention.

#DawnsBlood

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
When everything was just right, he had signaled his people, and they lit the first fires. After that, it didn’t take long. The grass was so dry that the preparations were barely necessary. Tongues of hungry flame consumed the fields between them and the village rapidly. When they hit the town, he heard the first explosions. The shouts turned into screams. There wasn’t much waiting left to do now. He raised his spyglass and looked down at the approaching path. Despite the circumstances, the army was calm, disciplined. They had gathered in formation and were beginning to march out. The villagers, panicked and unsure of what to do, crowded around the soldiers, trailing behind them like lost puppies. Enemy or friend, it didn’t matter now. They wanted someone, anyone, to save them. Ol’ren gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the flint. He continued tracking their movement as they headed for the pass, gaging their pace as he did. When they reached the bend, he struck a spark and lit the fuse.
January 29, 2026 at 8:37 AM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
ellielieberman.bsky.social
There were no flames in the fireplace- hadn't been for at least a year- and even the windows formed a thin film of dust. Yet something within the comforting walls of familiar bookshelves, there remained a brightness that could chase all the shadows away.
- my WIP, When Morning Comes
#WIPSnips
January 29, 2026 at 8:40 AM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
starkicker.bsky.social
From WIP 1.

It really isn't that hard honestly. 🎸

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #lesfic 🌈✒️
A black background image with white text on the left side and white and chrome drums, stacked, on the bottom right. The text is from a work in progress. It reads: “Well…” she hesitated. “Dad’s actually been teaching me a bit.” “Teaching what?” Julie asked, her eyes widening. Izzy air drummed a little as her response. Julie’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck, dude? You can play the drums and didn’t tell me?” “I wouldn’t say play,” Izzy protested. “I’m not that good. I just mess around sometimes.” “But, like, you have drums, and you can hold a beat?” Izzy thought about it. Then nodded. “I guess so.” Julie bounded out of her seat. “Let’s start a band.” “Wait, are you being serious right now?” “Hell yeah, I’m being serious.” “Julie, you said yourself that you don’t even know how to play the guitar!” Julie grinned. “How hard could it really be, Iz? Like, have you seen the dudes that play guitar around here? If some half-baked stoner dude with greasy hair can figure it out, why can’t I?” - And These Words Remain Unsaid, chapter 5
January 29, 2026 at 8:44 AM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
smoking-gnu.bsky.social
G'morning #WIPSnips! I do believe it is indeed time to switch back to Cavern Clipper for these snips in Feb, as I believe I've used this particular passage from TLC three times now.
#WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity
The shape remains dark, contrasted from the red light behind it, until it moves into the light of the corridor we’re in. It… it’s difficult to describe. Mostly it’s a large mechanical sphere, about three meters in diameter, hanging from the ceiling on dozens of cables, or mechanical tentacles or something else, I don’t know. It has three eyes in a triangular formation, and they glow blue-green. I was really expecting them to glow red for some reason. Most of the sphere was covered in curving plate with telltale signs that suggested removable panels. I can only guess what would come out of those. “Driona! Greetings!” Rondu says, and the voice is very different to what I imagined it to be. It was deep and gravelly without any hint of mechanicalness to it. “I must say I was surprised to see you approach and request landing, and I was even more surprised to see the state of your ship. You took a great risk, attempting to fly in that thing.” I look sideways at Driona. “Excuse me?” “It’s good to see you too, Rondu!” she says, pointedly ignoring my question. “I wasn’t expecting to make the trip today at all, really. It was a spur of the moment situation.”
January 29, 2026 at 8:44 AM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
tarasgeir.bsky.social
So I’ve got ‘information’ which technically has today’s #WIPSnips in it. In fairness, Grio has done much worse to Strope. #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity
January 29, 2026 at 9:00 AM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
saranadosfiction.com
#WIPSnips | formation

Very much stretching it for this one - 'formation' -> 'rock formation' -> 'cliff' - but it gets us a snippet, so.

Archer and Sabbat finally making it up the mountain to the Hall and, given the weather, only just in time.

( saranadosfiction.com/2021/08/07/s... )
“How are you feeling?” he asked, after the silence had dragged on for long enough to start becoming worrying. The assassin rolled his eyes. “Like I said the last ten fuckin’ times – been worse, been better.” Archer gave him a look. “Unhelpful.” “An’ what good’d bein’ any more fuckin’ specific do? Aside from makin’ you fuss even more’n y’already are?” “I’m not *fussing.* I’m-“ “You’re fussin’,” Sabbat said, bluntly. “Ain’t anythin’ either of us can do about it – ‘s why we’re talkin’ t’your fuckin’ toff friend, ain’t it? – an’ you worryin’ y’self sick ain’t helpin’.” He had a point, damn him. “We’re almost there. Just around this corner.” “An’ through the fuckin’ rock?” “In a manner of speaking, yes.” The cliff face stretched up above them, the top of it almost invisible in the tree-shrouded gloom. Archer urged his horse onward, following the curve of the path round and into the mouth of a short passage carved through the rock itself, just wide enough for three horses harnessed abreast to pass between its rough-hewn walls.
January 29, 2026 at 9:09 AM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
jangoeswriting.bsky.social
From: ‘Time and Time Again’
Prompt: ‘Formation’

#WiPSnips
Abbot Gorse put aside the designs for the new, larger timekeep the jeweller had furnished him with. He would have turned them over, to hide them, but he knew Witty Cutter well enough to know she had seen everything as soon as she entered and had squirrelled away the information in that formidable mind of hers before she had even spoken. Oh, he knew her well, and she knew him, for his sins. And his sins were plentiful. “Auntie.” Her features didn’t move as he said the honorific, but he could tell she didn’t like it. “Mistress. We haven’t had the pleasure of a visit from you in some time.” “I don’t like being around the echoes of death.” The legs of the chair, sat opposite him, scraped on the stone-flagged floor as she moved it closer to the desk. Before sitting down, she took something from the purse at her waist. “What does this say?” He peered at the piece of paper she placed on the desk, smoothing it out with a thin, liver-spotted hand. He hadn’t realised how old she had become. They both had, but she had been old all those years ago when he had first come to Quellcup as a bright, pious young brother. Before the unfortunateness. “Bingo?” With a tut and a hissed ‘bugger’, she flipped it over, tapping the other side, and he stared at the badly scrawled symbols. “Where did you see this?” “That ain’t important. It’s the words as is important.” She tapped it again. “I need to know what it says.”
January 29, 2026 at 9:13 AM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
cfranciswrites.bsky.social
Ess is a con artist with forbidden magic, able to control minds through touch in a world where skin is taboo. Captured by the second most powerful person in the city-state, she finds herself held prisoner on the front lines of a brutal war.

#WIPSnips
“You’ve quite the imagination. Good. It’ll serve you well.” The imperator clasped his hands behind his back, offering the faintest inclination of his head. “Your virtue—what’s left of it—is safe with me.” Though Ess wanted to say, ‘No part of me is safe with you,’ she heaved a deep breath and pointed out the doors again. “You’re sending me across, aren’t you? That’s why we’re here. You want me to Touch someone in Thessalyn, get them to withdraw?” “All in due time, my dear. But you’re in dire need of a meal and—” he glanced her up and down, “—some home comforts.” “I can’t stop a war, you know.” The imperator smiled. Slowly. “Rest assured, I’m not sending you into the empire. Let our brave soldiers deal with the enemy.” Ess exhaled a trembling breath. For a moment, she swayed, sensation returning to long-numb fingertips. But relief felt like a trap. If not the front, then why were they here? She eyed the imperator as he strode across the atrium, stopping in the doorway, where the wind stirred his cloak. He slung his hands behind his back and stared out at the palls of smoke rising off the river bank. “The Thessalians have never crossed the Ephrates.” Ess folded her arms. “Everyone knows that.” Still, she moved to his side, stopping an arm’s length away. The river churned across the landscape like a black serpent, the soldiers on its banks tiny dots that blurred into the land. She’d seen them leaving the city, marching in formation, their uniforms unblemished, eyes full of hope. And she’d seen them return in pieces, loaded onto carts, an honour guard of vultures to bring them home.
January 29, 2026 at 9:19 AM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
rachels-memories.bsky.social
#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #WIPSnips #traumamakesdrama

Another ‘form’ —
[from Wizards Without Wands]
"But, Abraxas loved you?" "I have said so." "In *that* way?" "In every way. Oh, he was cruel and unconcerned with any small discomfort of mine. And I had little or nothing to compare it to. But he - Abraxas made it seem *right, * he made it seem... *proper.* "And there was simply no way I could separate my - feelings - from his cruelty. It *was* confusing. He came to me that night. He didn't say, 'You are mine now, you belong to the family. You will become adept in all forms of the Dark Arts, and work to champion the family in the world at large."' "Maybe he *did* say it...?" "Yes, yes, my darling boy." "But he hurt you, coerced you." Lucius cocked his head to the side. "Did he? Or did he just make me into the man I was meant to be?
January 29, 2026 at 9:19 AM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
jundlife.bsky.social
Our hero muses on some more space stuff.
From "Hat"
#WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #WIPSnips
I’m not alone. The moon is half lit. People call it a first quarter moon. In reality it is half way waxed to the final full moon before the autumnal equinox, and it guides my path. This time of year the moon sits in a formation of stars we call Libra. A constellation is the word we use. Constellations are also illusions of light. In reality the stars sit at various distances that dictate when the light hits the human eye. As a group, Libra is one of our closest celestial neighbors, even if the visual constellation is nothing more than the intersection of light, distance and time.
January 29, 2026 at 9:48 AM
Reposted by Amanda Turek 💎 Writing Rushak
kathyravyn.bsky.social
Here's two instances of "pattern", I think it's close enough? Both snips are related to each other.

#WIPSnips #Writing #WritingCommunity #AmWriting #Writesky #WIP
Snippet from my manuscript, taken with Ellipsus: "What are you working on?" Mitali asked. "It looks nice. You're really good at knitting." I was but a novice, but sure Mitali, sure. "Yeah, what are you knitting?" Tara asked in the voice she gets whenever she's prying into people's business. "Can't say," I said trying to hide the knitting pattern I ripped out of a knitting magazine Tara got me. A few moments later, I asked, "On a totally unrelated note, when's your birthday?" Mitali pointed at himself. "Me?" "Who else? Do you think I don't know my sister's birthday?" "October 26," he said. "But you really don't have to get me anything." I gave a cheeky smile. "I won't." And it was true. I wouldn't get him anything. I'd make him something. That is if I could finish knitting this in time, which remained to be seen. Who knows if it would even fit him? Snippet from my manuscript, taken with Ellipsus: I opened my eyes, looking down at my face up palms, and then holding up what was in them. It was an olive green sweater. Sam must have knitted it herself. I smiled. "I told you that you'd get really good at it one day. You knitted this whole thing yourself? In only a few weeks?" "It's not that good, and you use patterns for knitting, so..." I took off my old sweater, one filled with holes, and put on the one Sam knitted just for me. It fit almost perfectly, just a little too big. She smiled. "Well, who knew, it actually looks kind of good on you." "This is what you've been knitting this whole time?" She nodded. "Yeah." I grinned. Maybe it was stupid, but that green sweater made me ridiculously happy.
January 29, 2026 at 9:49 AM