Fox Veros, Novelist
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verosthewriter.bsky.social
Fox Veros, Novelist
@verosthewriter.bsky.social
970 followers 210 following 11K posts
Psychologically focused, character driven, socially conscious fantasy. Literary agents, ask for details.
Sorry, I'm not commissioning art.
He/him/his.
BLM. Pro-LGBTQ+. Anti-genocide, no matter who's doing it. Down with white patriarchy.
AI is unwelcome.
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verosthewriter.bsky.social
#DecemberWorldbuilders
Gallara's nigh-encyclopedic knowledge of plants includes a dangerous parasite called garroteweed. It's not a misnomer.
“You do know how to handle the garroteweed, right?” Zedenko asked. “You never said you did.” She would have given him a much nastier look if he hadn’t technically been right. “It’s a parasite that grows extensive root systems primarily inside the bark of deciduous trees, but it can also attach to the roots of other plants and the moss on rocks. It releases seeds into the wind in autumn, which take hold in other plants and develop their own root systems over the winter; the sprouts break out in early spring and are mobile enough to grab things almost immediately, but not strong enough to actually harm you until early summer. They absorb the blood of the animals they kill through the abraded skin, so they prefer furless creatures like the civilized races and goblins. The variety with narrow leaves has short thorns to tear the skin open and draw blood more easily. The variety with broad leaves just has a raspy texture and secretes a muscle-numbing toxin that takes effect before your lungs even hurt from strangulation; it can be roughly neutralized with rock heather or lorg weed, but it barely lasts a quarter of a day, anyway. Broken animal bones can be an indicator that garroteweed is close, although scavengers tend to drag dead bodies at least a little ways away from the garroteweed so they don’t get killed while they eat.” The priests smiled. Zedenko didn’t. “Okay, fine.”
December 6, 2025 at 6:28 AM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#Smutcember
Grinks & Co. isn't a "steamy romance." It's pornography, and sex takes center stage in every chapter (even though there's also plot and dialogue and fun characters). No slow burn here.
Context: Grinks is half Taraltos' height.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writingprompt
Her money had barely touched the barkeep’s counter before she was bolting up the tavern’s stairs, room key in her teeth and Taraltos’ hand in hers, with the elf eagerly sprinting to keep up. Their room door slammed shut behind them, and Grinks leaped into Taraltos’ arms, wrapping her legs around him and kissing him with every bit as much enthusiasm as his. Their tongues wound around each other as Taraltos squeezed the ass he had so admired, with Grinks grinding every inch of herself against him. At last she broke the kiss and leaned back a little, her arms and legs still tight around his body. “Sorry if I seem a little forward,” she grinned, breathing harder than she had after her escape from the guards. “Getting away with something always makes me horny. Not that you need the help.”
December 6, 2025 at 6:19 AM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#SFFChat
The Prophecies duology satirizes lots of tropes from video games and other media. This reference to games like Legend of Zelda that lock you in a room with the boss monster as soon as you enter, doesn't actually factor into the scene or the plot; it was just amusing for me to include.
As Jorang and his allies entered the room, the doors somehow swung closed behind them, and locked with an audible click.
December 5, 2025 at 12:43 AM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
In Grinks & Co., Laylee encounters Davik for the first time. First impressions aren't great, but she quickly sees how kind and humane he is.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writingprompt
Dropping into a crouch, Laylee hurried toward the source of the sound, nearly silent as her hooves landed on only the softest grasses and mosses. Another angry squall ripped through the air, and this time she recognized it as a bane lynx’s. It sounded trapped, and scared. Maybe it was one of those city people that the fauns had been having trouble with, who said they were from a place called Memliss. Well, she wouldn’t mind putting her staff upside a few of their heads, especially if they were hurting an animal - but helping the animal was more important. She started running even faster. She reached the edge of a little clearing, and saw one of the city invaders, sure enough: a human, with a bow and a quiver full of arrows on the ground next to him and a long hunting knife on his belt. It might have been just her imagination, but it seemed that he took a deep breath and glanced in her direction. Laylee ducked behind a tree, keeping a firm grip on her staff as she watched him. The man was kneeling by a handmade game snare with the yowling bane lynx in it, and grumbling as he tried to get closer. “It’s all right, it’s all right …” he was telling the cat. “Just let me untie the - Damn it!” He pulled away again as the cat swiped its poisonous claws at him. He paused and thought for a second, then pulled some dried meat out of a pocket at tossed it just under the scared animal’s nose. “See? I’m on your side. I don’t want you in that trap, either.” The cat didn’t even sniff at the meat, and continued screeching at him. The man sighed and backed away from it, letting the lynx’s yowls trail off into a low growl. “Fine, then,” he muttered. “I guess I’ll see you after you’ve fallen asleep.”
December 4, 2025 at 5:29 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
Sometimes I feel bad for Gallara (who has social anxiety). Other times I remember that she isn't real.

#writesky #booksky #writingprompt #writingprompts
“What kinds of beer do you have?” Alakshi asked, just in case Rilben had been bullshitting about there only being one kind of dwarven beer. Maybe it was a trick these people played on “tourists.” “Dwarven. Only kind worth drinking, am I right?” the dwarf bellowed, and most of the dwarves held up their drinks and cheered. He turned back to their table. “So, how many should I bring you? Eight?” “Do you have uisce beatha?” Gallara asked. “Gesundheit. How many beers do you want?” “Just one for me,” Gallara said quietly, looking down.
December 4, 2025 at 5:36 AM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#AwesomeCharacters
Gallara introduces Prax to the other MCs, and hopes the conversation will end soon. He's the only one she feels comfortable around.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writingprompt
“Oh, cute. Is he your familiar?” Prax had always been easier to talk to than people, ever since she first found him eating voles in her raskovnik patch and bribed him into sticking around for pest control. He’d let her pet him two days later, and he was riding her shoulder after a week; thankfully for her, they’d become pretty much inseparable after that. “Um, no. We’re just friends.” Couldn’t they please go back to ignoring her?
December 3, 2025 at 11:40 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
I hadn't intended to get political with this story, but I think it's inevitable for me that this point. I am okay with that.

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“Patrols and occupying a whole town?” I wondered aloud as we crept along. “That must cost Liege Hessa more than she’s saving by stopping the illegal shipments. I thought she was in financial trouble because the mines were running out.” I glanced at Drohim, as if I expected him to make sense of it somehow. “Is punishing the miners just more important to her?” “She probably thinks punishing them will help break the revolt and intimidate them out of rebelling again in the future, meaning more money for her in the long term,” Drohim answered; his tone indicated that he did not approve of that kind of thinking. “It’s all about dominance,” Rhugada added, with no particular emotion. Well, the two of them had made sense of it. I found myself hoping the Many would let Drohim and me … do something about her while we were in Ulen.
December 3, 2025 at 9:18 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
This scene from Prophecy #71 was just me having fun with genre clichés.

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“Excuse me.” They all looked up, and saw that the eyepatch-wearing guy had left his shadowy corner to loom over their table. He gave a conspiratorial nod. “You four want a job?” Gallara looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “What?” He stared at her for a second, then gave his conspiratorial nod again. “You four want a job?” “Are you seriously just walking up to strangers in a tavern and offering to hire them out?” Zedenko asked. The guy shrugged. “You just walked into a bar in the middle of the day. You couldn’t have much else going on. Anyway, are you a people person? Are you a motivated go-getter? You can become a licensed dealer of quality home products! Set your own hours and be your own boss! You’d have to pay me a percentage of your profits, but you can recruit your friends and make them pay you! That’s actually where most of the money comes fr-” “Plothük, get away from the customers!” the serving girl bellowed, stilt-stomping up to their table with a tray full of mugs and bowls. “We’ve told you before, people come here to get wasted, not to join your pyram-” “Okay, I’m going, I’m going!” Plothuk shouted defensively, scurrying back to his corner and covering his head like he expected her to throw something.
December 2, 2025 at 6:05 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
Jorang's reason for sticking with the other MCs is mostly pragmatic through most of Prophecies; he simply needs to be a part of something and to feel valued, and he can't seem to find it anywhere else.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writingprompt
Although he truly regretted it, the priesthood of Renai had failed to demonstrate the strength of principle and leadership that Jorang could have followed, just as the constabulary of Oasis City had. Jorang had considered seeking employment under King Haldremere of Caldera once the princess was rescued, but the dwarf’s obstinate manipulation had not boded well for that. Each of those entities had proven unworthy, even more clearly and far more quickly than the Order of the Iron River had. His dedication must be to his companions, then, this small group to which he had belonged these past several weeks. They were his purpose now. He needed that purpose.
December 1, 2025 at 7:29 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
Jorang hasn't felt loved in a very, very long time, but ...

#WritingPrompt #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #Lovember #writingprompts
“Thank you!” Alakshi hugged both Gallara and Zedenko at the same time. They hugged her in return, and each other. The sickening loneliness crept over Jorang as he - “Captain Jorang! Get over here!” He moved to his friends’ side as quickly as he was able. All three of them put an arm around him or a hand on his shoulder and another around each other, and welcomed him as he did the same to them. Even Prax leaned in and nuzzled all their foreheads. Their touch briefly brought to mind a long-past memory of being held with warmth, some time before he had entered the Order of the Iron River. He had not realized that he still had such a memory. But he was being held now. By these three, who were more than his allies. Jorang was happy.
December 1, 2025 at 1:43 AM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
Seff and Drohim do their best to not get killed by a necromancer who brings help and fights dirty.
This scene was one of the toughest for me to write, and editing it for clarity will take some effort. It's all part of the process.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writingprompt
Every one of the dead people Drohim had re-killed got up again. “They’re behind you!” I shouted. As Kevra turned back to me, I jabbed my staff into her chest and shoved her back, then pounced on the sword lying next to the severed arm on the ground. As I reached for the hilt, the arm reared up and closed its hand over mine. I tried not to waste my breath screaming, and failed. I still managed to grab the sword and come back up parrying; it was awkward and off-balance with the bloody arm hanging from my hand, but it was enough to save myself from the hammer again. Thank the Many that even with numbers on her side, Kevra clearly didn’t have any training - her attacks were obvious and uncoordinated, she kept trying the same bone-stab every time, and she’d just stepped into Hammer Guy’s way. I frantically grabbed the severed arm’s wrist, yanking it free from me, and threw it at Kevra’s face. Then its owner crashed into me from behind, locking his remaining arm around my neck. I had one brief moment of trying not to panic and praying that Drohim would get him off me in time; then I remembered to throw my hips back and pivot, and breaking out of his grip was all the easier due to his missing arm.
November 30, 2025 at 9:32 AM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
Seff considers her future as Drohim's protégé and a Blade of the Many in her own right ... or as an ordinary person who chose not to live a life of violence.

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That would be worth all the violence and fear and hardship of a Blade’s life, right? Especially since I’d be a lot better able to handle it. Drohim had re-killed three trained attackers at least twice each while I was just trying to keep two of them from killing me, and that was with Kevra getting in their way; all the mercenaries and fake guards I’d killed or knocked out the other night had basically been ambushes. If I trained up to be a real Blade of the Many, there honestly wouldn’t be much for me to fear. It would sure as hell pay better than being a squire, even if it would never make me rich. And he’d called it “a significant step up in social status.” I still remembered how I’d felt when he’d called me “young miss” two years ago; it would honestly be pretty nice if people talked to me with respect all the time. I would probably even have a squire of my own. Wow. Either that, or I would have to tell Drohim someday that I was returning the training and admiration he’d given me with a great big “Sorry, I should have told you earlier, but everything you’ve dedicated your life to is meaningless to me.” And then I would have a chance to live for another fifty years or so without anyone trying to stab me, curse me, turn me to stone, or reanimate my corpse. Hopefully.
November 29, 2025 at 6:41 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
What flavor is your OC?

Art of Alakshi by Mona Finden.
Alakshi, a half-human, half-elven warrior in a leather vest, patched trousers, and boots. She's holding a spear in one hand and hoisting a tankard of beer in the other, and smiling. A long dagger is attached to her belt. She has muscles. Art by Mona Finden. Samuel Smith oatmeal stout, the best beer I have ever had the pleasure of drinking
November 28, 2025 at 10:35 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
Desert raiders with a sand hydra on their side accost a traveling caravan, but the caravan has a few people with it who know how to fight. Gallara isn't one of them, but she does her best, anyway. No one knows what's going on.

#writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts #writingprompt
The sand hydra surged forward, knocking the bandits’ horses aside as it pounced into the row of guards. Brandolok heroically charged it head-on, parrying and wounding whichever heads weren’t already swallowing guards whole. In fact, he seemed to be doing a good job of keeping the entire hydra busy. Well, at least there was that. Leaderless, the riders jostled each other as they frantically tried to figure out who was going to stab which pedestrian, and a few managed to charge. Fighting down her fear, Gallara flicked her finger at the leading horse’s front hooves; it stumbled to its front knees, nearly throwing its rider from the saddle as her fellow brigands crashed past or reared to avoid her. Alakshi yanked the spearhead from her belt and said a weird word; her spearhead was abruptly a full-length spear that she was already driving right through a bandit’s leather armor. Jorang parried an axe with his staff and somehow tripped its wielder’s entire horse to the ground - and some *other* guy that Gallara hadn’t even noticed yet leaped up from among the the horses, swiping a saber through a highwayman’s throat. She backed farther away from the increasingly sloppy melee, as fast as the sand underfoot would let her, pointing with two fingers and turning her wrist; an eighth bandit screamed and fell from his horse, clutching at the sudden tearing pain in his spine. His foot got stuck in one of the stirrups as his horse turned and bolted in the opposite direction, dragging him off into the desert.
November 27, 2025 at 7:43 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
Seff is in the first real fight for her life, and trying to avoid killing anyone - but there are hazards to fighting in a magician's house, and to playing nice when people are trying to kill you.

#booksky #writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompt #writingprompts
“This is for Celder, you bastards!” The human woman got to me first, coming in for a stab with her long, thin sword. I managed to parry like Drohim had taught me, then shifted forward and inside her reach, and kneed her in the crotch as hard as I could. Drohim hadn’t taught me that one - fighting with bullies had. She hadn’t even fallen yet before the gnomish guy came in with a stab of his own. I barely parried in time, and he immediately tackled me at the waist, grabbing behind my knee with one hand; I managed to throw my other leg back and recovered part of my failing balance - instead of flopping onto my back, my body half-turned and fell against the edge of the table, smashing my kidney pretty hard. I gasped in pain and did my best to parry as he straightened up and stabbed again, and I only partly succeeded; the point of his blade drove painfully into my collarbone, but my brigandine stopped the edge from getting through. I tried to breathe through the pain and rushed to get my feet properly under myself in time to parry his next thrust; he was already moving back, out of my range, but he kept his arm extended and his sword hand where I could lunge for it. My blade went clean through at least two of his fingers, using his own hilt like a chopping block; he howled and dropped his weapon, and I drove my foot into his chest. It sent him stumbling backward, into the corner with the enchanted floorboard. Magic sigils suddenly appeared on both of the corner’s walls, and translucent spikes burst out of them - and right through his torso in five places. Great Many, that wasn’t what I’d meant to do. … was it?
November 26, 2025 at 11:32 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
Gallara relates the time she impeded a guy who deserved it. She didn't know he was a demigod.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writingprompt
“Like I said, I was trying to read when that guy walked up to me,” Gallara continued, as Zedenko quietly made a little more space between them. “It was like he just couldn’t imagine that someone would tell him no. He started getting … aggressive about it, so I finally told him fine, I’d meet him that night. Of course I wasn’t there. The place where I said I would meet him was full of hanging garroteweed.” She glanced around and acted surprised that people were giving her horrified looks. “It was the middle of spring! The garroteweed wasn’t strong enough to be dangerous yet. It would have just held him there all night to give him something to think about, without actually hurting him. Well, maybe some bruising.”
November 26, 2025 at 10:47 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WriteStuff
I wish people would think to celebrate family/friends and remember to be kind, without a blatantly materialistic holiday covered in a micron-thin layer of religious paint. The pressure to give presents, and the expectation to receive them, stresses people out more than it's worth.
the Grinch in a Santa Claus outfit, standing in the middle of a wreath and giving the finger
November 26, 2025 at 10:03 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WriteStuff
I count Barry Levinson's "Toys" as a Christmas movie. It begins and ends with a Christmas show, and I think its themes of personal growth, loss of innocence, and retention of goodness are appropriate for the holiday/new year season.
I posted about this film yesterday, too. Sorry.
Movie poster for Toys, directed by Barry Levinson
November 26, 2025 at 9:54 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
Seff's interrogation at the cop house is not going well.

#WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #writingprompt
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” he informed me, leaning forward again. I heard a clinking sound, and saw the human deliberately shifting her stick so it rattled against the side of her chair. I could only wonder whose pay they were in, and if I said anything that led them to suspect that Drohim and I knew about Torvandin’s kidnapping, they could trace it back to Telo despite Drohim’s promise that wouldn’t happen. Drohim had already told them that he was a Blade of the Many, which was a dead giveaway, but I didn’t have to make it worse. I shrugged, ignoring the aching in my wrists and hands. “I came here with my master. It wasn’t my choice.” “Mmmm, she’s being evasive,” the woman mused. “Oh, that’s all right. I like it when they don’t cooperate,” the elf said. “I get to do all kinds of things to them. A few things are coming to mind for this one already.” And he gave me a look that I really didn’t like. I had a feeling I wasn’t supposed to. “Hey! Threats from constables - and investigators - are illegal, including during interrogation,” I told him, clenching my teeth. “Oh, you’re familiar with the justice system,” the elf nodded. “So you’ve been in trouble before.” No, I’d just had to accompany Drohim when he’d apprehended criminals on behalf of the church, and learned a few things. “Which doesn’t change the fact that threats are illegal,” I countered. He stood up from his chair, slowly made a fist, and then smashed it into my face. I tried to tighten my neck and lower my forehead into it, but it still sent sparks flying inside my head as I tumbled backward off the stool, biting back a cry of pain. The human grabbed me off the floor and forced me to sit on the stool again.
November 25, 2025 at 7:33 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#Novmemeber
Prophecies is a two-novel story with four MCs, two male and two female. Spoiler alert: there is no romance. I'm sick of friendship being seen as a sad second best to romance, and of the idea that every story is incomplete without romance. Besides, the MCs just don't click that way.
Daimora the Witch leaned forward in her chair, interlacing her fingers. “Now then, you are finally here,” she said. “Such nice, relatively attractive people. Are any of you in love by now?” Alakshi choked and coughed half a mouthful of cookie bits onto the floor. “Shorry,” she said, “but I’m not in a good plashe for that right now.” “I’m … still struggling with the idea that people could even like me,” said Zedenko, and looked away. “The four of us have only known each other for a couple months, and we’ve been in extraordinary circumstances the whole time,” said Gallara. “That might bring on a temporary infatuation if we weren’t thinking straight, but that’s hardly the same thing as love, and there’s no way we could keep the feelings going for the long term.” “No,” said Jorang. “Are you sure?” the Witch said. “You’ve had some banter that seemed promising.” “Figging hell! Friends can banter!” “That’s too bad,” Daimora said. “Some people would really like grandchildren, you know.”
November 25, 2025 at 7:17 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#FantasyIndiesNovember
25. Share artwork or artist

@monafinden.bsky.social is the only artist I've commissioned for artwork. I've shared the MC portraits she created for me several times, so I'm reposting her pinned post from her profile here. Check out her art and see how brilliant she is.
FantasyIndiesNovember 25. Share artwork or artist
November 25, 2025 at 7:06 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
Share a 90s movie you think deserves more love
Movie poster for the film Toys, by Barry Levinson
November 25, 2025 at 6:33 AM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
Gallara has foraged some wild plants for lunch. Zedenko weighs his suspicious nature against his lifelong food insecurity.

#WritingPrompt #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #writesky
The way she was holding it out made it look like she was offering it to him, along with her friends, which wasn’t like her at all; Zedenko immediately started watching her hands for vials of poison or bits of wire she might sneak into his share. Still, it was hard to turn down any nutrition he could get. Well, it wouldn’t make sense for them to try to kill him yet. As long as he watched her carefully, he was happy to eat what was available instead of digging into his limited supplies. He just needed to see her eat some of it before he did. Soon the roots were roasting over a small open fire on long slivers of fresh-cut wood, and he had to admit they smelled pretty good. Gallara handed them out to everyone, including a little one for Prax, and she took the first bite. Zedenko waited until she and the others had swallowed at least three mouthfuls each, pretending he was letting his cool, before tasting it. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten – specifically, food. He’d never thought having a botanist around would be this useful, he mused, and swallowed. Oh right, he was supposed to be acting civil. “Theg hoo,” he said, then shook his head and tried again. “Tthhgg uuu …” Oh, balls. His tongue bloating to the size of his fist wouldn’t have been so bad – even the pain coursing through his entire digestive system was almost bearable – if only the swelling in his neck would ease up enough for him to breathe. He tried to move, and slumped onto his side, instead.
November 24, 2025 at 5:57 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
This is not a first that Seff was looking forward to.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #writingprompt
beacon, making sure the stiff material wouldn’t give enough to press the jewel while it was in my pocket. “This should be deep enough,” Rhugada said from inside the pit, “and we really should be going.” I definitely agreed with that. I checked how much of the Trokaan’s stuff I could fit into my backpack and Drohim’s, and set it all aside. When I looked up, Drohim was already dragging two of the bodies toward the pit. I jogged to his side and helped, and felt my stomach turn just a little. It was my first time handling a dead body, instead of just making one, and I wasn’t sure whether I should have been more or less bothered by it. I threw the Trokaan’s riding gear into the hole once the corpses were all in it, and all three of us pushed the dirt back over them with our hands as fast as we could. Rhugada sprinkled some kind of powder over the obvious mound of turned earth we’d made, then spit on it; a curly, almost moss-like grass started climbing up out of the dirt all over the burial patch, so slowly it was hard to be sure how long it kept growing. It didn’t have the same texture or shade of green as the grass all around it, but it was a hell of a lot less obvious than leaving the burial site bare would have been. “We should definitely be on our way.”
November 24, 2025 at 5:42 PM
verosthewriter.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
So the prophecy says your enemy needs magic beans in order to cause a metaphysical catastrophe ...

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“If he needs to *raise on high the magic beans*,” Zedenko said, with a brief grin, “we could grab them before he does and, I dunno, sell them one at a time in a big port city, so they’ll go all over the world and he’ll never find them all.” “We should destroy them,” Jorang pointed out. “All of them, to be sure.” Gallara choked. The idea of wiping out a rare species made her feel sick all over again. Even if it made sense, in this case. Zedenko grimaced. “That would be … okay, fine, we could do that.” “Or we could just eat ‘em,” Alakshi shrugged. “Yeah, you go ahead,” Zedenko grunted. “I don’t want to grow a giant beanstalk where it’ll do me the least good.” “What if it grew where it would do you the *most* good?” He winced. “I think you’re overestimating my ambitions.”
November 23, 2025 at 5:00 PM