Pamela Jeong
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pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Pamela Jeong
@pamelaelaela.bsky.social
760 followers 530 following 5.5K posts
Lifelong writer, aspiring author, mom of two.

Bibliophile, cinephile, serial hobbyist. I'm talking graveyards of crochet needles & ukuleles.
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pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Pamela Jeong @pamelaelaela.bsky.social · Dec 20
I have something exciting to share…

My very first commissioned art from the one & only @nushdeco.bsky.social!

What have we here 👀 Lynx? Goshawk? Cyrus & Danbi on one of their walks? I want a happy ending for these two, but *sigh* I dunno… 😓

Nush, TYSM—your beautiful art has brought me such joy 🥹❤️
A gorgeously illustrated forest, golden afternoon light filtering in through moss-covered spruces. A handsome young man with dark, curly hair wearing a black t-shirt and jeans with a book sticking out of his pocket walks together with a cute young woman in a pink sweater and fitted pants. They’re captured mid-conversation, glancing shyly and affectionately at each other. A grayish goshawk flies through the trees toward the young man, while a blue-gray lynx steps over a mossy log beside the young woman.
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
nushdeco.bsky.social
comm for the royally proclaimed diamond of the season, @pamelaelaela.bsky.social 🤩🤩🤩
two people walking through forest
February 5, 2026 at 1:17 PM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
nushdeco.bsky.social
comm wip for the incomparable @pamelaelaela.bsky.social 💜
February 3, 2026 at 1:40 PM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
charliedeltawrites.bsky.social
February 2nd – perish

#AnthropomorphicNovel, today!

Apparently, I only use ‘perish’ in the phrase “perish the thought” so that’s fun to learn!

Ray finds someone she has been looking for for some time. It might not go the way she planned...

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
“I don’t think so. But I am glad to see you, redacted. I was hoping we would get to meet today.” “Me too.” redacted grinned broadly. “I was so concerned that, after all the trouble I went to with you, I wouldn’t be able to savor the effects myself. It would be like slaving away over a four-course meal, just to see it eaten by the dog. A terrible waste. But instead, here you are, just as I had hoped.” “I’m afraid your ability to savor anything is going to be short-lived.” My hand was already on my gun. “If you surrender, I’ll take you in alive. That’s the best I can offer.” “Don’t be absurd, Rayna.” He scoffed. “Do you really think you can get away from me?” “Perish the thought.” He spread his hands, innocently. “I don’t have any need or desire to run from you.” “I am done playing games with you, redacted.” “I know.” He nodded, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
February 2, 2026 at 8:35 AM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
kayleighdiaz.com
#WIPSnips | perish vibes✨

After finding a trail of blood where a person should be…

(+Context: Shrimp doesn't speak.)

From my post-apocalyptic #WIP featuring a misfit trio of kids.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky #amwriting
Writing snippet: “Micah wouldn't leave me behind,” she said, but even as she did, a small voice inside her whispered: Unless he knew he was going somewhere you couldn't follow. Shrimp took her hand, traced GON— She pulled it away hard. “No, he ain't gone!”
February 2, 2026 at 8:53 AM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
tarasgeir.bsky.social
After Grio dies for a moment, Strope inherits his blood powers and struggles to control them so Halla does her best to help reduce them. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
Halla reached out for the heat. At first there was nothing, not even a glimmer of the potential of Strope's powers. All she received for her troubles was his grumbles. It was in his blood, that she knew, and Halla imagined the burning drops as they scourged his veins. She pictured the heat flowing from his body to hers, a magic transferred as she'd done with so many others. A tingle in her hand made Halla realise that she'd been successful in helping Strope. That and his breathing sounded normal. More heat began to rise through her fingers, crumbling the bones and inching its way towards her arm. She had to stop it before it reached any further. She was not like Strope or his brother. Already Halla could feel her body withering like an unwatered plant and she had to get rid of this stolen heat. If she wasn't burnt from the inside out then she'd perish into dust.
February 2, 2026 at 9:51 AM
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jundlife.bsky.social
Our hero muses on hate
From "Hat"
#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #WIPSnips
The seed of hate is not a seed at all, it is an infection. It is a virus that only knows how to consume. Like its natural counterpart, my cellular structure will be reprogrammed to create only more virus. The process will repeat until there is nothing left but itself. Then we as a species shall perish. Entropy will have its victory.
February 2, 2026 at 10:06 AM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
professoremily.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writesky

Mem sees Light for the first time 👀🏹💓

From #Charagma, my SFF dystopia where all people are marked saved or damned from birth.
Mem had never liked love-at-first-sight stories. Such a notion was completely ridiculous—the idea that one could truly “fall in love” with another person after a single look. One look told you nothing at all. And how could you love someone you knew nothing about? She still believed that. She always would, because it was true. And yet, in that moment, she finally understood what people were always going on about. No love, of course—not real love. But to her surprise, she found it was indeed possible after all to lay eyes on someone so miraculously beautiful it struck her like a curse. She felt as though all the furniture of her soul had been shaken up and rearranged. She almost swooned back against the railing. She didn’t swoon, thank El. But an involuntary gasp did escape her lips before she could stop it. The gorgeous stranger’s lips quirked in a little half-smile, and Mem knew at once he’d heard her gasp and that she would surely perish of embarrassment right where she stood. But his eyes gleamed a bit brighter amid the dazzle of the city. “Are you sure?” he asked. “S-sure—what?” Mem stammered, fighting to get her voice to work normally. “Sure that you’re alright? You looked like you were about to be sick.” “Uh-uhm.” She swallowed down a thick, dry lump. “Yeah—no, it’s just...” She waved vaguely at the door to the club. “It was really crowded in there. I get a little, uh, anxious. That’s all. But I’m fine now. Just needed some fresh air.”
February 2, 2026 at 10:46 AM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
sayaashrah.bsky.social
#WIPSnips 2. “Perish”

Datusha tries to convince Ashrah to do something she doesn’t want to... and in this case, the sword might not be wrong.

#ChroniclesOfTheRealms #SayaAshrah #DatushaCotR #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #QueerWriters
Yielding to the darkness will eclipse the light you gift me. “At first, there would be some conflict of interest, yes. But if you master your darkness, you can make it more susceptible to my purging.” Ashrah nibbled at her lower lip. It had taken her forty thousand Pulses to weave a second skin when most elbhyrs decided on theirs in their first five thousand. None had felt right when she imagined herself dressed in it, not when she had no intention of becoming a hunter of mortals. But since that fateful day when she witnessed the song of freedom and adopted her new form, a form that harmonised the chaos within her, that made her proud to look at her reflection—a pride that filled her soul with joy and not with hunger—she had fought her hardest to keep her demonic flesh wrapped under her spiritual skin. It was not always possible. Feeding on demons did not sustain her as much as she needed. To escape the Abyss, to strengthen herself for important battles and recover herself afterwards, she had sought prey in the fertile souls of the living. She did not regret it; to ensure her liberty, she would doom as many mortals to the Abyss as she must. But she could tread another path now. She could purify herself and extinguish her darkness once and for all—the only way she would ever achieve absolute freedom. The more power darkness tastes, the more it yearns for. Let it wither and perish. And if it resists, I shall strangle it with my blessed hands.
February 2, 2026 at 11:44 AM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
acturek.bsky.social
#fantasy #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #WIPSnips #perish

Rushak and his horse pick their way through the aftermath of a battle. His first experience with war.

- From Brother’s Keeper, first book of my fantasy WIP about two brothers bound by a misunderstood power.
He had no idea how long he had been unconscious. He was no warrior; he had fainted from fear and felt no shame over it. But he had taken life, and he bent now and again to retrieve spent arrows as he walked as though he would take life again. Nausea welled, disgust or homelonging twisting amid his grief. These people had perished in homelonging. The death ground now was silent, but in his ears the drumbeats pulsed. Quietly, as with cloth-covered mallets on hairy heads—almost whispers, as if they came from within his mind; and only the fearsome rhythm, one he had never heard or imagined before, told him they did not. He could not see the standing stone, but he remembered the direction. The woods thickened, pines and fuzzy firs pungent and sticky with sap. Frasca stalked beside him, stiff-necked, ears askew. The pine smell mingled with myriad others, smells of blood and death. But against every prick of instinct she stayed with him, as she always would. Brother's Keeper A.C. Turek
February 2, 2026 at 12:53 PM
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adregem.bsky.social
Another word I rarely use. Here's Maddie ruminating about campfires (from "Little Pieces of God," the WIP I probably won't ever finish) #WIPSnips #WIP #AmWriting #WritingPrompts #Writers #Writing #WritingCommunity #WriteSky
Sometimes, a dry branch will perish in a campfire in a perfect facsimile of its former self, retaining its shape, and sometimes even the texture of its bark. The woodsy browns become deep gray with white highlights, like frost on a January morning. Looking at those still shapes in the dead fire is a little like looking at the plaster people of Pompeii, frozen forever in the moment the volcano claimed them.
February 2, 2026 at 1:51 PM
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sagecollins.bsky.social
No “perish” but lots of death. Vibes

Evie considers the boy she couldn’t save at his grave. Even Apollo’s features have perished

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity
From Hero/Villain 🦸🏼‍♀️⚰️
Black text, green background I hesitate, then touch the gravestone. A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow to push it down. Apollo. I imagine his adorable nervousness whenever he talked to me. I can still picture the beautiful smile he gave me once. The coffin was broken open by Digger, and the corpse's head is visible, but it's unrecognizable. I can't even tell if the bone structure is right to be Apollo's. It could be anyone. "Anyone," I whisper. "Apollo Eastman, you weren't invisible then, but you're unrecognizable now."
February 2, 2026 at 9:17 AM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
jimthevampire.bsky.social
Swapping out perish for die. A bit near the end. Ish.

#WIPSnips
#WriteSky
#WritingCommunuty
#WritingPrompts
#sff
#SciFiWriters
#StatuesErode
71. Kaili She watched O’Connell without much sympathy. The man was curled up into a ball on the deck a handful of paces from the shuttle door in the red strobing light. “Rec, open the shuttle door.” “This is not a wise course of action.” She straightened her jumpsuit and putting on her best Elara voice, said “As the ranking Officer aboard this vessel, I order you to open this door.” “Your rank is unofficial. I could deny your request on those grounds. I am unable to offer you any protection. My automated assistants are out of service.” “I don’t need protection. Open the door. When he comes in, tell him to sit down and wait.” “And if he does not comply?” She sneered. “He is a coward who thinks he is about to die. He will comply. Leave the warning playing and the scary lights. Open the door.” As the hatch cracked open, the blaring sound was louder, she imagined how she must look, bathed in red, hands on hips, striding out to the whimpering mess of a man on the deck. A small, callous smile crossed her face. She’d hoped she looked like a tiny Satan.
February 2, 2026 at 8:34 AM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Mundy has concerns about Danbi traveling to Korea on her own, especially considering the father she was looking for was just found dead in Alaska.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #AmWriting #AmQuerying
📚💙
Chloe asks softly, “Have you tried talking to your mom, Danickers? I know it’s not easy, but—” “No! She doesn’t want to talk to me! And what else am I supposed to do?” My voice comes out loud. There are some other people pitching a tent within earshot, and their heads perk before they resume their business. “I’m sick of having zero information. I’m sick of trying to figure out a future when I know next to nothing about my past!” There is this black hole feeling I get when I have to talk about my family. A dense void that swirls right between my chest and stomach. A brewing emptiness that points only at itself, at the lack of substance. I’ve wondered what that feeling is, and I think it’s shame. Mundy looks down, shaking his head. “D, I’m not trying to discourage you. I’m just…look, when my mom died, I thought I’d never be me again. I could’ve wondered forever, about the me I lost when I lost her.” He gives me an apologetic smile. “I don’t want that for you. But…if you still want to go, of course we’re with you.” I look at him, and the black hole feeling lightens. “Thanks.” “And I’m literally with you,” Chloe chirps, “because I’m totally coming. Thus, the many bags.” I grin. “You didn’t.” “Oh, I did. Bought my ticket yesterday. My dad didn’t even blink. He said, ‘Use the Amex, and don’t tell your mother.’ Thinks she’s going to take more of his money in the divorce, as if she needs it. People do the most insane things out of guilt.” I laugh, throwing my arms around her. “You are insane.” “Now I’m jealous.” Mundy pouts. “Think of all the good food you’ll eat.” I squeeze him too. “I’ll bring you back twenty kinds of instant ramen.”
February 2, 2026 at 2:31 PM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
papadjinn.bsky.social
Suggest → hint | Golm teaches Vashad a valuable lesson about information and experience. Vashad doesn't enjoy it...
#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #bvm #bipoc #amwriting #Fantasy #SFF
“Care for a drink,” Golm offered, eyes never leaving the forms in his hands. Vashad could not tell what the knight’s intentions were. His voice had been even, his manners polite, and there wasn’t a hint of aggression shrouding his body. The lukewarm, almost dismissive, attitude that Golm maintained encouraged Vashad to become more tense, not less. He was but a pebble in the palm of the elder man’s hand – and so he answered honestly. “No... thank you.” “Mhmm,” Golm hummed in reply. Once again, the response left Vashad feeling as if the decision had already been made before he opened his mouth. There was no space to dwell on the thought; Golm continued, “Do you know what a census is?” “A- A census,” Vashad inquired, shaking his head in confusion. Of course he had heard of a census, not that he had ever been personally involved. “Not terribly familiar, I guess. I’m certain my mother has spoken of it before – of her preparing for it, but surely not why.” “Ah, that explains a great deal,” Golm responded with a nod. The elder knight placed the stack of papers in front of Vashad gingerly. “This is a census and – don't strain yourself to read it – all you need to know, is that it has the names of every man, woman, and child that dare lay their head in this village for a year. In summary, it offers all the information I need to conduct my conscription.”
January 30, 2026 at 7:58 PM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
nushdeco.bsky.social
Comm for @khonri.com 💜
✨FASHION ✨
e frontier magazine with naki
January 29, 2026 at 2:24 PM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
professoremily.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writers #writesky

While arguing with one of the elite clans about slavery, an upsetting revelation comes out about Kena's old family ☹️

(Very first draft so apologies if it's a bit overwritten 😅)

From Book 2 of my #Atlantis trilogy.
“Well, his old family owned many slaves, ona?” she said. “The Barley-Eyed Cla—” “Who said they were my old family?” Kena snapped. “I never said that. Nobody said that.” Though he didn’t raise his voice much louder than usual, the sharpness of it silenced the entire room in an instant. Avoiding all the eyes currently fixed on him, Kena dove into his plate of food and began to furiously shovel it into his mouth. Mireia just stared at him, a storm of confused emotions raging inside her. And after a few awkward moments, a man sitting next to the drunken woman, wearing an expression of rage, gave her arm a pinch that made her yelp; then he turned a mask of apology up toward Mireia and Kena. “Please forgive her tongue, young gods,” he pleaded, a slight nervous quiver in his voice. “Wine makes her into a fool. Of course we understand that you both are no longer connected to your former families. We meant no disrespect, Sun Father.” “I never said they were my family,” Kena repeated. Icozoue let out a cough. Xa’aba started to speak, with an uneasy smile, “Well, clearly this is a sensitive subject for Raa Kena, so I suggest we should—” “What proof have you that the ‘barbarians’ are different spiritually from anyone else?” asked Mireia, unwilling to let the subject go. Her words were tense, trembling slightly, not only because of what the topic meant to her but because of this new revelation about Kena’s former family being slaveowners. Why hadn’t he told her? How could she trust him as an ally in this fight if he was going to lie to her?
January 30, 2026 at 2:18 PM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
kayleighdiaz.com
#WIPSnips | suggest vibes✨

Amos offering MC a little food for thought…

From my post-apocalyptic #WIP featuring a misfit trio of kids.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky #amwriting
Writing snippet: “Ain't no humanity left in this world,” she muttered. “And yet here you are,” Amos said, gesturing at the food. “Sitting at our table. Breaking bread.” He bit a chunk out of the loaf and handed the rest of it to her. “What would you call that?” She scoffed. “Pity.” He stared at her for a moment. She kept her eyes down, and he shook his head. “All right then, Lennie, say it's pity. Think sharks have pity on their prey? How about a pack of starving dogs? Ever seen one turn on its master?” He leaned in. “Because I have. Starving animals care for two things only: the hunt and the kill.” “I seen people kill,” she whispered. “And I've seen starving fathers give the last of their food to their children. I've seen mothers squeeze the last drops of water from a cloth into their child’s mouth. I've seen strangers sacrifice themselves for people they hardly knew.” He sat back. “I bet you've seen some of that too.” She picked at the loaf with her fingernail, flaking off some of the burnt crust. “And maybe you're here because someone took pity on you.” He pointed to the closed cabin door. “She didn't have to take you in. She chose to. And maybe it was pity, maybe something else, but I'll tell you this. Pity is a distinctly human emotion.” He pushed a glass of water toward her and she lifted her eyes at last. “So, you being here? Hell. I'd say there's a bit of humanity left after all.”
January 30, 2026 at 9:00 AM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
charliedeltawrites.bsky.social
January 30th – suggest

Fox has made an important discovery about her dream visitor.

#DawnsBlood

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
“What is it you want, Taevyn Fox?” He broke her silence. “I want to know who you really are.” She managed to keep her voice calm, despite the fire in her mind. “No, scratch that, I want to know what they called you, in the end.” redacted paused; despite the hood, Fox felt the smile spread across his face. “You think you’re terribly clever, don’t you?” He chuckled. “I have my moments.” “If what you’re suggesting is true, why would I admit it to you?” “Why not? Even if I tried to tell someone, who would believe me? Besides, I think you’ve been dying to tell me. You’ve been hinting at it this whole time. Why deny yourself the pleasure?” He laughed. “Perhaps you are right. I do prefer when people know the truth. For now, precious few do. But, perhaps it will convince you.” “Tell me, then. I want to hear you say it.” redacted grinned, teeth flashing white under the hood…
January 30, 2026 at 9:57 AM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
tarasgeir.bsky.social
I’ve not enjoyed writing much recently as it’s been about the aftermath of a breakup. Strope is venturing to area of city Halla lives as it’s one of safe places to practice magic. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
January 30, 2026 at 10:13 AM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
jundlife.bsky.social
Preparing for a little moon ritual
#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #WIPSnips
Another thing to put a damper on the day is that the moon will set tonight at 6:27 PM. This means that me and Mel will not get a view of the moon’s five percent luminosity. It also means we’ll be enshrouded by complete darkness. I guess we can at least pretend it’s a new moon. There’s nothing I can do about it. The moon’s cycle has been set since well before mammals began to evolve. It’s not going to change simply because I want to impress some girl. It really makes one appreciate how special a good moon viewing truly is. Anyway, I was able to gather a few items for a ritual suggested by the Internet.
January 30, 2026 at 10:14 AM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
danfbispo.bsky.social
Today's #WIPSnips is "suggest". Here's a bit from the conclusion of #FirstLight book 1 that I still like.

I never formally "moved out" from my childhood home. I left it one day, thinking it would be back to it soon, but I never returned, or saw it again.

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
Her room was no longer her own, and she felt strangely at peace with it. Its walls had been peeled bare, her clothes folded and stuffed in suitcases, her—until recently—entire life fit into a dozen little cardboard boxes. Behind, she had left her desk, her terminal, her mirror, and a slew of memories she still had to learn how to appreciate. She stepped up to the mirror, her old foe, and looked her reflection in the eye. She wasn’t quite sure what she saw behind them, or to make of it still, but for the first time, she saw shape, she saw identity. Suggestions of a past. Wishes for a future.
January 30, 2026 at 10:16 AM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
sayaashrah.bsky.social
#WIPSnips 30. "Suggest"

Mileena and Manyamo are such a fun pair that it makes me sad I don't have more scenes with them!

#ChroniclesOfTheRealms #MileenaSuêòng #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #QueerWriters
Standing from her chair, she gave her audience the smallest of bows. Merchants and nobles scurried forward, begging for an audience. She ignored their supplications and their gifts, and when the barrier erected by the palatial guards didn’t dissuade them, Manyamo let out a roar that pushed some back and made the rest forget their manners in their rush to flee the abuurgan. Only one merchant had the mettle to bow before stiffly walking away. Mileena scoffed under the veil. Her mother advised her against consulting with supplicants when alone, and that was one rule she was more than happy to obey. “Thank you, Manyamo.” “My pleasure, princess.” Her towering bodyguard grinned, a fang glinting in the corner of her lips. “Though eating one of them would’ve taught a more lasting lesson.” “As much as it would amuse me to watch that, I somehow don’t think mother would appreciate you watering her plants with blood.” “And we don’t want to enrage the empress,” Manyamo replied in a way that suggested she would very much enjoy enraging the empress. Mileena smiled to herself, unable to tell if she had been a bad influence on the abuurgan or if Fate had brought them together despite her mother’s best attempts to find a bodyguard that would keep her in line.
January 30, 2026 at 11:48 AM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
woodenvelt.bsky.social
Sam’s mother greets him for family dinner.

From Herbs and Iron, a cozy romantasy about a witch returning home to reopen her gran's herb shop and reconnect with the blacksmith she left behind.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #Herbs&Iron
The cane gave Amma a listing stride, a steady sway side to side, rocking her ever closer. She’d dressed up for the occasion. The steel gray twist of hair at her neck was held in place with lacquered rosewood combs, and her kiyon was layered with all the colors of a sunset. The embroidered coral over-blouse rested on a marigold dress and was belted with a sash of midnight blue. “Hello, Amma.” Satin crinkled stiffly beneath Sam’s fingers as he embraced his mother with a gentle squeeze around her middle. She smelled of the citrus oil she used for cleaning and the herbs she used for cooking, a blend of sage, cardamom, and a dozen other things that were uniquely Amma. “Samhed! You are wasting away.” Slender fingers pinched his sides, digging into what little padding lined his middle. “Do you think hammers swing themselves? It takes food to fuel all those muscles. You need to build up a little reserve around the middle like your babba had, so you don’t faint away in the middle of the forge.” “I am not going to faint in the forge, Amma.” “Of course not.” Amma tugged on his arm, dragging him towards the table. “Not if I have something to say about it. Riya! Make a plate for your brother.” “I can make my own plate, Amma,” Sam insisted, reaching for one of the yellow glazed dishes at the edge of the table. “Nonsense! Riya is happy to do it.” Amma tugged on Sam’s arm, stronger than such a small woman had any right to be, and shoved him towards a seat. “Aren’t you, Riya?” “Yes, Amma.” The sour look on Riya’s face did not suggest any great enthusiasm for the task. “Sit, sit!” Amma flapped a hand impatiently at Sam. “And eat!”
January 30, 2026 at 12:19 PM
Reposted by Pamela Jeong
stevewestenra.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - "Suggest"

From The Erstwhile Tyler Kyle, my queer horror comedy about a cryptid-hunting YouTuber who follows a video of is presumed-dead mom to an isolated island in the Canadian wilderness.

#transbooks #indiehorror #transhorror #booksky #queerhorror
When you make a living on nonsense like me and Josh do, you travel to a lot of weird and wacky small towns. I’ve seen everything: Giant Turnipville, Michigan, where every gift shop—and there are at least five, plus enumerable corner stores and gas stations that triple as the same—features snowglobes filled with to-scale models of town and turnip; Mermaid Bay, Maryland, where the cryptid du jour isn’t homo aquaticus as the name would suggest, but yet another Big Foot rip-off, whose proud simian visage can be purchased in mask or burger form from a hundred seaside stalls; Alien, New Mexico where—well, that should be obvious. Point is, all of them are wacky in this uniquely manufactured way. Every Bumfuck, Nowhere is some variation of artificial, and the artificiality is always necessitated by the genuinely heartbreaking story of how the town slowly suffocated from the death of [insert industry here] till all its young folk moved to Baltimore, or Albuquerque, or whatever passes for a moderately-sized city in Michigan.
January 30, 2026 at 12:30 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Stretching a bit with “refer” instead of “suggest.” A short snippet from a conversation between Danbi and Calla, a new friend in Miterios, about the way things are in the world—either world.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #AmWriting #AmQuerying
📚💙
“Why’s it like that?” I wonder aloud. “Someone’s always trying to keep their foot on top of someone else. No matter the realm.” “Fear of irrelevance, I think. You know how there’s fight or flight? Well, there’s a third option for Miterians. Shield. The whole realm divided in two because of ourosi who think we need a shield from the non-magical to keep the magical alive.” I can only assume she’s referring to the Republic and their disdain for kritosi and skias. “What do /you/ think?” I ask. She purses her lips. “I think that anytime someone feels they need a shield, they’re eventually going to start looking for a sword.”
January 30, 2026 at 1:21 PM