Remy Garrett
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remygarrett.bsky.social
Remy Garrett
@remygarrett.bsky.social
68 followers 31 following 72 posts
M/M fantasy and urban fantasy romance author

💛🤍💜🖤

Creative Home: https://reamstories.com/remygarrett

https://linktr.ee/RemyGarrett

remygarrett.com
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remygarrett.bsky.social
Peaceful writing buddy today ❤️ Mama keeps me calm and focused.

#writingcommunity #writesky
A calico cat looks out the window.
October 22, 2025 at 8:22 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Ream Raid starting this Friday, Oct. 24! My book, Marked By A Demon, along with many others, will be available to read free from Oct. 24 - Oct. 31. Come discover new stories and support indie authors - set your bookmarks now!

reamstories.com/shelf/mbv7i9...

#ReamRaid #mmromance #paranormalromance
October 21, 2025 at 6:35 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
A rare writing buddy today - the very handsome Corvo Cattano. He looks like a unicorn lol

#writingcommunity #amwriting
October 7, 2025 at 7:30 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Finally sat down and updated my cover for Marked By A Demon - really happy with how it turned out!

#writingcommunity #amwriting #mmromance
October 6, 2025 at 8:18 AM
remygarrett.bsky.social
My writing buddy for the night. Just look at those judgmental eyes. I can't slack when Cayde's watching me, I feel too guilty 😭

#writingcommunity #amwriting
October 1, 2025 at 11:19 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
👃

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
“You have a tail,” Danny said flatly, shaking his head in disbelief. “You have… I knew I wasn’t crazy.” He hugged his arms tight. “What the fuck is happening?” Nathan lifted his hands, palms out. For once, he seemed apologetic. Good. He damn well should. “Daniel, let me—” “If you call me Daniel one more fucking time, you’re gonna need another eye patch.” The man had the audacity to chuckle. Danny’s fist twitched. One solid punch might be therapeutic. Right in the good eye. “What should I call you then?” How was he always so damned calm? He pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a long, deep breath. “Danny,” he said finally. “All right, Danny.” Nathan’s voice was gruff, but gentle in a way that caught him off guard. Measured and hushed. Like he spoke to a skittish animal. And it was working. “Understand that I’m limited in what I can tell you,” Nathan went on. “At least right now. There are… rules.”
August 30, 2025 at 2:07 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Found only one!

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“I have to go,” Nathan said at last. He turned to leave. “Wait.” Nathan paused mid-stride. “Thanks. For handling… that.” Danny waved his hand, taking in the wreckage. A single nod, unreadable as ever. Then Nathan slipped away, the back door screeching shut behind him. The finality of it lingered in the silence. He stared at the smear of blood left on the counter. Nathan hadn’t gone far, he’d bet money on it. Probably still out there lurking in the shadows. That’s what he did best. The thought should’ve unsettled him. Instead it made him feel safer. And he had no idea what to do with that. Anxious energy welled up, driving him into motion. He tore through the lounge, sweeping glass into piles, righting chairs, scrubbing the bar so hard he thought the lacquer would come off. Anything to drown out the silence. Anything to keep from thinking. Then the rag passed over the smear of blood. His hand stopped. Slowly, he wiped it away. The stain spread into the cloth, dark and stubborn. Just like the man who’d left it there. Nathan’s ravaged skin flashed across his mind. Gouges, deep and wide, blood soaking his shirt. An ache settled in Danny’s chest. Goddamn it. He hoped the fucker was okay.
August 29, 2025 at 6:22 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Broad!

#WriteSky #WIPSnips #WritingCommunity
He ground his teeth. Angels perched up high and untouchable, while his kind bled down here in the streets. No more than decorative guardians. Useless. What did they want with him? He wasn’t theirs. Daniel was his. He swallowed down a sharp bite of jealousy. Speculating on the angels’ directives gained him nothing. It wasn’t important. Unlike them, he had work to do. With Daniel safe inside, he turned to leave… then stopped cold. A breeze stirred, carrying with it an acrid, metallic stench that burned his nose. Every muscle locked tight. He crouched low, scanning rooftops, alleys, sky. The angels gave no sign they noticed. Of course they wouldn’t. Their senses were blunted. Ineffective. Venerants. No mistaking it. In broad daylight, no less. More than one, judging by the tangle of scents. Reckless. Infuriatingly reckless. Normally even Venerants had the sense to keep themselves Veiled from human sight. Not lately. Something had riled them up.
August 28, 2025 at 5:24 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Crawl!

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity
Up close, Danny noticed the slight dimple that softened the harsh planes of his cheek. Stubble shadowed his jaw. The man was handsome, he couldn’t deny it. But with a twinge of I’m-going-to-wake-up-in-this-guy’s-basement. His reddish-brown eye gleamed with a wild and dangerous light that drew him in even as instinct screamed to run. Danny couldn’t decide if the man wanted to kiss him or eat him alive. A sudden desperate need to put distance between them rose. He shot to his feet, the stool scraping along the floor, scooped up the empty glass, and set it behind the counter. “You gonna be okay to drive after this?” Danny asked, gesturing to the glass. “I’ll manage.” Nathaniel smiled again. Almost feral. Heat crawled up the back of Danny’s neck. He felt laid open under that look. The only defense he could muster was a dismissive flick of his hand. “All right, go,” said Danny. “I gotta count the till, then go home and pass out.” Nathaniel didn’t argue. He simply took the envelope and disappeared out the back as if he belonged there. Danny followed and bolted the door shut, feeling safer with the barrier in place, though only marginally. After he left, his scent hung in the air. His presence lingered. Danny felt lightheaded. “What the fuck, Darla?” he muttered.
August 17, 2025 at 2:47 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Street!

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #WritingPrompts
They packed light, taking only what might be needed for a jaunt into a magic-laden forest. As Rodrik opened the door, Aeiran paused beside him. His fingers brushed the vessel hanging on Rodrik’s belt, then curled into a fist. “You banned my spirit from it,” he said, a tremor of amusement in his voice. “Not your problem anymore,” Rodrik said with a smirk. “It belongs to me now.” Aeiran arched an eyebrow. “Belongs? That’s an awfully Tempest thing to say.” Rodrik narrowed his eyes and turned to leave, but Aeiran stopped him with a hand to the chest. The mischief was gone. “Thank you,” Aeiran said. “It would’ve… thank you.” Rodrik nudged his chin with a knuckle and winked. Then he turned and started down the stairs leading into the common room of the inn. Aeiran followed, his steps light but close behind. They’d barely reached the bottom of the stairs when the tavern door slammed open. The barkeep jumped. Mayor Stonebark stomped in, winded as if he’d run all the way here. His coat was askew, his boots thudding heavily across the floor. “They’ve caught someone,” Stonebark said, breathless. “From the forest. There were more, but they got away. They tried to take Elm.” Rodrik’s body snapped into motion before the last word hit. He followed Stonebark out into the empty street with Aeiran at his heels.
July 30, 2025 at 3:40 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Inside

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Rodrik worked slowly. Carefully. One filament at a time, he teased it free. Aeiran writhed, teeth clenched, gasping between cries. Rodrik’s vision blurred; he didn’t know if it was panic, exhaustion, or tears. But he didn’t stop. And Sethara held firm. Her spirit glowed brighter than any other in the room. She twined herself around Aeiran’s essence, holding his spirit fast, tethering him to life as Rodrik stripped the invader away. Just a little more… One more pull… The last thread snapped free. With a grunt, Rodrik shoved the entire twisted mass into the cage and sealed it. Silence fell, heavy and absolute. Aeiran collapsed, limbs slack. His body sagged into the mattress. Sweat dripped back into his hair, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. Rodrik stood frozen, hands shaking as he stared at the cage. The metal glowed faintly. Inside, the entity’s light flickered erratically, like the wild heartbeat of a frightened beast. He lifted it to eye level. The thing shrieked, a vibrating pressure behind his eardrums. It hurled itself against the bars. The vessel didn’t budge. Rodrik’s lips curled into a grim smile. Good. Let it rage. Eventually, the flickering slowed. The light dimmed. Fury drained away, replaced by something else. Fear. The entity sank inward, retreating to the center of the cage where it slumped. It knew what had happened. It was trapped. It had nowhere to go.
July 24, 2025 at 8:11 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Starting to forget which clips I've used already 😅
Needle!

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writesky
They made camp just before sunset, tucked away in a secluded hollow rimmed with trees and scattered with damp leaves and pine needles. No birds sang. No insects chirped. Only the sharp wind and the groan of shifting wood kept them company. Rodrik built the campfire while Aeiran collected kindling. Neither said a word as they lit the fire and gathered in close. Thin flames licked upward, flaring gold against the growing dark. Closing his eyes, Rodrik remembered the warmth of Aeiran’s hand on his lower back. A tingle traveled up his spine. It was a familiar gesture, something he used to do when Rodrik’s temper edged too sharp. A sort of silent signal between them that he should rein it in. How many times had he felt that same calming touch over the years? A faint rustle of leaves caught his attention. When he opened his eyes, Aeiran stood over him with a small wrapped bundle clasped in both hands. When he spoke, his voice was soft, barely audible above the fire’s crackle. “Thank you.” Aeiran didn’t look at him. “He was too rough. I appreciated you stepping in.” “You’re welcome.” Relief settled his nerves. He was worried he’d overstepped, honestly. It wouldn’t have been the first time either. His instinct to protect Aeiran could easily turn overbearing, smothering when it was meant to shield. But not this time. Aeiran hadn’t pulled away. Hadn’t admonished him. He’d needed him in that moment.
July 22, 2025 at 4:50 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
😁

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
With some effort, Rodrik shimmied out of the log's opening and sat up. "Before we go, I need something from you." "Anything, Mr. Rodrik." "I need an item that belonged to Briar. Something she handled often. Something that was important to her." The boy pursed his lips, rocking idly on his crutches as he thought. Then he suddenly straightened. "Oh!" Elm dropped and crawled back into the log. He rummaged around in some recess Aeiran couldn't see from his position, then emerged once again, triumphantly holding up a small wooden knife. Rodrik took the knife and inspected it. "She made that," said Elm. "Carried it around everywhere." Lifting the little knife up to his eye level, Rodrik ran his fingertips along the handle. He made a noise of appreciation in the back of his throat. "It's well made," he said. "She work with wood often?" Elm's head bounced in a nod. "Yeah. Carved me a little cow. Looks just like Blossom. She made a lot of weapons but Mama took 'em all away." Concern clouded the boy's face as he furrowed his brow. "You won't tell Mama, right? That's Briar's favorite." Rodrik placed a solemn hand over his heart. "Never." Elm eyed him skeptically for several heartbeats. Then, satisfied, he gave a single nod and stood. Despite the seriousness at hand, Aeiran had trouble holding back a smile. To see his own mirth mirrored in Rodrik's face filled him with immense relief. Elm truly was a remarkable boy. He seemed to have the power to tame even the fiercest of beasts.
July 9, 2025 at 4:16 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
I'm pleased to announce that my time travel M/M romance story, Wrong Side of the Mirror, is now also available on Radish!

First five episodes launched today - new releases Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
radish.app.link/qtJKs42pzUb

#mmromance #timetravelromance #gayromance
I'm pleased to announce that my story, Wrong Side of the Mirror, is now also available on Radish as a serial fiction story! First five episodes launched today - new releases Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
July 1, 2025 at 12:16 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
-truth-

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
Rodrik saw the tremble in his lip, saw the reddening of his cheeks. He hated himself for it. Guilt rose like bile, sour in his throat. He let the space widen even further. Told himself it was mercy. In truth, he was afraid of what else might slip loose from his traitorous mouth. He watched Aeiran's figure grow hazy ahead, half-consumed by fog. His shoulders hunched as the mist curled around him. Even through the fog he could see Aeiran's shoulders shake. His breath hitched and he broke into quiet sobs. Rodrik squeezed his eyes shut. Something in him burned to ride forward. To reach out. To take it all back. To take everything back and beg for forgiveness. But he didn't.
June 30, 2025 at 3:57 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Lots to choose from today - even showed me a couple spots were I overused the word 😅

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #mmromance
Rodrik swung down. Aeiran followed and stayed close, fingers catching Rodrik's arm and not letting go. Aeiran worked his jaw. His eyes scanned the mist as if he expected it to lash out at him. He'd seen that look before—Aeiran tuned to something just beyond sight, balanced on the knife's edge of fear. He reached for his hammer. Aeiran released him and moved toward the fence with measured steps. The grass at his feet glistened with dew that wasn't disturbed by his boots. The hairs on Rodrik's arms stirred. The air turned cold, sharp and sudden; a deep cold that rose from within. Then—a shape in the mist. A white goat crept toward the fence. Its steps were wrong, halting and stiff. As if the body had forgotten how to walk. Its head dangled loosely, neck twisted like wet cloth wrung out and hung to dry. It looked up. Its eyes were black. Too black, wide and unblinking. It let out a broken, juddering bleat. And then, all at once, the herd collapsed. Every goat froze mid-step, backs arching, limbs curling inward like dead insects. They dropped in a chain reaction, a convulsing wave that spread across the field. The goat nearest Aeiran lay contorted on its side, head bent so far it stared up at the sky from between its own shoulder blades. Its chest rose and fell, but barely. Aeiran stumbled. Rodrik caught him, arms locking around him like a reflex. Their breath plumed in the air. The chill had deepened. "Are…" Rodrik swallowed. "Are they dead?" Aeiran's mouth opened, but no sound came. He stepped forward and ducked through the fence slats. He hesitated, hand trembling, eyes fixed on the contorted goat. Then he touched it. The goat's mouth yawned open—and screamed.
June 27, 2025 at 5:32 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Episode 13 is now available!

***
The Constructor
- M/M fantasy romance
- Slow burn
- Second chance

First five episodes are always free to read.

radish.app.link/jDeFx1ZKdTb

#mmromance #fantasyromancebooks #romantasybooks #gayromance
June 27, 2025 at 4:44 AM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Can't remember if I've used this snip before... but I was desperate to join in today, so I'll post it anyway 😏

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #mmromance
Rodrik gripped the back of Aeiran's neck and drew him close, no longer caring who was angry at who. To his surprise, Aeiran didn't resist. He came willingly, pressing his face into the curve of Rodrik's neck. His forehead felt clammy. They stayed that way for a few moments, until Aeiran suddenly tried to squirm free. "Let go," he said weakly. Rodrik held tighter. It had been too long—too many years since he'd felt Aeiran in his arms. Just a bit longer. "Let go," Aeiran repeated, more urgent this time. He released an anguished groan. "I'm going to be sick." Rodrik released him. Aeiran stumbled through the kitchen and out the back door. A moment later, the sound of retching echoed back through the open door. He stayed where he was, breaths quick and shallow. The skin of his neck still tingled where Aeiran's forehead had been. His arms felt the weight of him, the solid shape of that brief, desperate closeness. He had no right to hold onto it. The entity had been right. Horrifyingly, accurately right. He'd been so afraid Aeiran would leave and find someplace—someone—more interesting, more worthy. And in that fear, he'd belittled Aeiran's dreams, twisted them into something foolish. Tried to make him feel guilty for wanting more. Selfish, that's what he was. Selfish and cruel. He'd crushed Aeiran's wings, just like the spirit said.
June 23, 2025 at 3:15 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
shh, we're whispering today...

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #mmromance
Rodrik hadn't meant to let the contact linger. Not really. His hand still lingered on Aeiran’s wrist, and he didn't know what to do with that. He recoiled, jerking his hand back. "Just… take care of it this time." Aeiran nodded. He ran his fingers over the spiral engraving near the wrist, the sapphires catching the light. "It's really pretty," he murmured. "Thank you." He stood and pulled his shirt back on over his head. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words. Then Aeiran stepped closer. Close enough to catch the lingering scent of cinnamon soap. He lifted his hand, hesitating. For a heartbeat, his palm hovered just above Rodrik's chest, over his heart. The way he used to reach for him. Rodrik didn't move. He wouldn't dare. If he so much as breathed he might lose the moment. But Aeiran pulled back, curling his fingers inward as if burned by his own impulse. And then came a whisper, a tremble so soft Rodrik couldn't be sure he heard it at first. "I should've stayed." The words cracked like lightning in the silence. Rodrik's reply came in a whisper of his own, raw and strangled. "I should've gone with you." His breath stuttered, jaw clenched so hard it ached. Something inside him shattered. Aeiran looked at him with unshed tears shimmering in his eyes. Then, slowly, he turned and slipped out through the shop door.
June 22, 2025 at 1:40 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Going with vibes today. I figure "protect" is close enough!

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #mmromance
The creature dipped low, its face inches from Rodrik's. Its tongue, long and silvery, slid across thin lips. "Your anger tastes…" it hissed. "Bitter. Buried. Beautiful." Rodrik narrowed his eyes. "I have no anger." The entity jerked and roiled, laughter stuttering from its mouth. It began to contort, rearranging itself, limbs shrinking—until Aeiran stared into his own face. It took his shape. His face. His prosthetic. Even the wounds inflicted moments ago. His own voice, warped yet his, came from its mouth: "Why do you protect the one who has caused it?" Aeiran watched as the thing swayed toward Rodrik, brushing his hammer aside. "I know anger," it said. "I see it. I devour it. And yours… it's buried deep." Its hand—his hand—rose and brushed Rodrik's cheek. Rodrik jerked back, swinging upward in a sharp arc. The form dissolved into a thick, gray-white mass, swirling like the birth of a tornado. Aeiran's cloak snapped in the wind as he edged closer, trying to catch Rodrik's eye. But Rodrik was transfixed.
June 21, 2025 at 7:11 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Didn't think I'd find one, but I have a sauce!

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #mmromance
Rodrik sat alone at a narrow table near the Moonlace Cup Tavern's hearth. The waitress greeted him by name and set down a plate—roasted quail and potatoes, a tangle of wilted greens he couldn't name, and a rosemary-crusted bun still steaming in the center. He ate in silence, letting the warmth of the food ground him while plates clattered and firelight danced across the lacquered wood. The smell of meat and smoke hung in the air, familiar and soothing. Once he soaked up the last bit of sauce with the bread, he leaned back and sighed. Laughter burst from a nearby table. Cutlery clinked. Voices rose and fell. None of it reached him. He traced the rim of his wine glass with a callused thumb, the chatter around him a distant hum. The tavern moved around him, but Rodrik sat anchored in a moment that no longer existed. He didn't need to be here. Limbus had no shortage of eating establishments; anywhere would have been better. But habit brought him back again and again, like a man pressing on a bruise just to see if it still hurt. The Moonlace Cup had been their place. He and Aeiran sat at that very table several times a week. For months after Aeiran left the staff asked about him: where was he? When would he return? Was he well? Questions Rodrik didn't have the answers to. Eventually they stopped asking.
June 20, 2025 at 4:17 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Nothing too exciting today, just a little bit of Tempest temper.

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #mmromance
The older man raised a gloved hand. "Gatewarden Graham. State your names and business in Belamros." Aeiran dismounted gracefully. Every motion was precise, practiced. He withdrew the parchment from his belt pouch and handed it over. "Aeiran Orenath," he said. "We come by order of the Archmage of Limbus. We're en route to Norham to investigate a magical disturbance." The younger guard—introduced as Harl—scribbled furiously, not looking up. Graham took the writ, lips moving as he read. Then his gaze slid back to Aeiran and he stared. Not at his face but at his arm. Sensing the shift in mood, Rodrik dismounted and positioned himself beside Aeiran, close enough to count his breaths. "We were told to expect you," Graham said, his voice a shade too neutral. "Name, sir?" "Rodrik." A pause and a scribble. "Last name?" Rodrik's jaw twitched. "Tempest." The name landed like a dropped anvil. Both guards went rigid. There weren't many places in Elima that wouldn't recognize the name. Graham tapped the book. Harl scribbled faster now, pen scratching loudly. It was a wonder he didn't tear through the paper. Then Harl cleared his throat and gestured to Aeiran. "I'll need to inspect that. May I?" Aeiran hesitated. His fingers flexed at his side, metal brushing metal. Then he nodded and raised the arm. Harl stepped in, too eager. He took up Aeiran's wrist. He turned it, hinged the joints. Rapped against the forearm with his gauntlet. Aeiran stiffened. And Rodrik moved. A single step forward. Tension snapped through his shoulders. He stood a full head taller than the Gatewarden and made sure the smaller man knew it. "That's enough," he said, voice cold. The guard froze, holding Aeiran's arm. Rodrik's stare didn't waver. "Let him go." Harl backpedaled, hands half-raised.
June 19, 2025 at 12:41 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
-Sheet(s)-

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June 18, 2025 at 3:56 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Ooh, now "hair" is definitely one I can jump in on. Aeiran's got miles of it.

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #mmromance
As Rodrik dried off and dressed in clean clothes, feeling more refreshed than he had in days, a muffled curse drifted in from the next room. "You all right?" he called. A noncommittal grunt was his reply. "That doesn't answer my question," Rodrik said. There was a long pause. Then came the quiet request: "Can you… help me?" Stepping through the open doorway, he found Aeiran perched awkwardly on the stool beside the tub. His wet hair was snarled around the brush in his hand. Aeiran gave him a pitiful look. Rodrik fought back a smile and pulled up a chair. He sat close, his knees brushing Aeiran's hips. Gently, he eased the brush from the tangled mess. Then he took Aeiran's floral-scented oil—the same glass vial he'd used for years—and tipped a few drops into his palm. The scent bloomed immediately, subtle jasmine and cedar wood, and he inhaled deeply. He warmed it in his hands then combed it through the strands with his fingers. Rodrik moved slowly, mindful of the bruises along his neck and back, the healing cuts where the angry spirit had marked him. The brush glided more easily now and Rodrik slipped into a rhythm of memory. The scent and the feel of Aeiran's hair… he had done this so many times before. On mornings when Aeiran couldn't be bothered, or nights when they'd been wrapped in nothing but each other. It had become a ritual for them. He brushed and braided Aeiran's hair not because he needed him to, but because he enjoyed the closeness. The intimacy of care. Rodrik paused, brush hanging in the air, overwhelmed by the memory of him. His fingers recalled texture, the softness that had once surrounded him as they lay together. His chest hurt.
June 15, 2025 at 2:41 PM
remygarrett.bsky.social
Respect!

#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky #mmromance
Rodrik didn't claim to understand how Weavers worked. Both Constructors and Weavers utilized the same magic—the spirits left behind when living beings died. But from there, the path forked. Weavers viewed these spirits as entities in their own right, as partners. Allies, and sometimes friends. Constructors, on the other hand, saw free-roaming sources of power to be plucked from the air and used to fuel their craft. Neither was correct nor incorrect. Spirits offered power to both. The difference lay in belief and intention. Despite Rodrik's differing beliefs, he and Aeiran had worked together harmoniously for many years. Their mutual willingness to respect and attempt to understand the other's point of view had always been their strong point. But even with all that shared ground, Rodrik couldn't explain what he'd witnessed last night.
June 12, 2025 at 2:15 PM