Tessera

Ross Trevelyan 🗻🌲🦪🦀🚵‍♂️

@jumpintraxjack.bsky.social

Freelance Editor. Author. Realpolitiker. 2026 WIPs: ◆ Black as the Sea at Night, 1816 Irish picaresque ◆ Lakeshore Heights, psych noir thriller Excerpts on #WIPSnips. Слава Украïнi! 🚫AI, DM #editors https://www.trevelyanwrites.com

1458 Posts26074 Follower 47853 Folgt

Aaron Rupar @atrupar.com · 5h ago

El-Sayed: "Mike, I'm gonna say it right now, I know you're gonna say no because you're a coward: Five debates, alright? ... By the time we're done, you are not gonna have safe quarter from people holding you accountable to what you've done for them here in Michigan. We will send you back to Florida"

Moonlit Trickster | D. C. Sheldon @moonlittrickster.bsky.social · 4h ago

Maybe a touch overwritten but funny to me. #writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompt

Steph 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ | Editor 🦦✍️@ottersediting.com · 4h ago

Since I finally feel better today, I can market again! I'm a neurodivergent, chronically ill freelance editor. Editing is my only income. I still have plenty of spots open this fall! I edit short stories, poetry, novellas, and books in the fantasy, LGBTQ+ or sci-fi genres! ottersediting.com

Otters Editing

Welcome to Otters Editing Welcome! I’m Steph, an empathetic editor who cares about you & your writing. I’ll be your Guide Otter here to help you swim through your publishing journey…

ottersediting.com

Dan Sato @tellthestory.bsky.social · 4h ago

Upon his arrival in Seattle, an obsequious Japanese cart driver takes #FrankMatsura to a hotel. In an early draft, Shishido was a villain. Here, he's just a streetwise operator, a bit of a hustler. #WIPsnips #carrier

“If I may ask, Matsu’ura-sama”—again, that respectful suffix—“what brings a man like yourself to America?”
“Frank,” I said in English, “call me Frank.” Shishido asked a lot of questions for a cart driver. I didn’t want to tell my story to every stranger, so I improvised. “Gold. I came to find gold in the mountains.”
Shishido looked me over, and at the way I was dressed, then back at my heavy trunk. He had easily seen through my lie. “As a lark, an amusement,” I added feebly.
“Gold owari, all gone,” Shishido responded in pidgin English, dismissing my claim with a curt gesture of his hand. “No find gold now. Plenty danger in mountains, ne? Dorobo,”—highwaymen—“waiting for gold miners, no matter what kine, Chinee, Japanee, hakujin, kokujin,”—white people, black people—”no matter. Take money, maybe kill. Too mucha danger.”
“Thank you,” I said, “for your advice.”
A silence fell between us as the cart bumped and lurched over the road.
When the cart drew up to the Cooke Hotel, he brought my trunk into the lobby and I paid for the transport. My money in his pocket, Shishido and I shook hands in the American fashion. Before departing, however, Shishido gave me a sly smile and left me with a last bit of counsel: “Plenty gold in city. Come every day on boat.” I considered the profit he had just made for carrying me less than a mile, and agreed that he had found his gold mine right there on the docks.

Pallro the friendly fire dragon @pallroragon.bsky.social · yesterday

Michael and Lucifer getting on eachother’s nerves.

Jax Karma @jaxkarma.bsky.social · yesterday

When your token elven infantry remember they hate you and take all your shit #WIPSnips

Back at the armory a final tally of missing inventory represented hundreds of automatic rifles, thousands of rounds of ammunition, a couple boxes of meat from the mess hall (for distracting dogs apparently), and a box of grenades.
"Oh, and a rocket launcher."
"Are you fucking kidding me!" Now a high-ranking human
general was onsite and much more emotional than Otto's stoic order barking had been. He kicked a chair clear

CJ Mann III @cjmann3.bsky.social · yesterday

Queen For A Day by CJ Mann III The word “box” has taken us to Chantara’s Royal Orchards, where Cobeah finds no reprieve from the weight of her actions. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #DarkFantasy #IndieAuthor

Were she in any other mood, Cobeah would have enjoyed the royal orchards. The rows of trees ran like disciplined ranks, and the wind pushed warm seaside air through leaves heavy with fruit. The scent of ripening apples and pears sweetened the breeze. It mixed with the sharp musk of soil and manure. She found it almost intoxicating. Near the trunks, planter boxes full of rosemary and mint were set out as cheap wards against insects.

The orchards had been one of her favorite walking grounds during breaks from duty. Now, with the palace in upheaval and the nation balanced on a knife’s edge, she found little warmth in any of it.

Cobeah didn’t mind the apple’s juices running down her chin. It was the first real food she’d had all day, longer still if she counted what her stomach had rejected earlier that morning. She craved a rod and line, bait on hook, and the honest heft of a fish hauled up and killed and eaten for what it was. Fuel.

Pyrephox @pyrephox.bsky.social · 2d ago

Chen Zhiyuan had realized that you didn’t have to always sell something. On occasion, people would pay you for nothing. In this case, the nothing of empty space in the storehouse, in a series of locked boxes which gained the protection of the merchant’s guards for a low, continuing fee.

Rachel Schneider @writingrachel.bsky.social · 19h ago

I found a pretty box in Kinnear and sent Kathleen some money so she can buy it on her way in. Patrick came by and I gave him the Kahlua chocolates in the pretty box. "Remember to be a gentleman tonight." He gave me a hug and a yes mom then said he would call later. #WIPSnips charming chocolates 2

Abbey Chord 🎵@abbeyisme.bsky.social · yesterday

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

They picked up a pizza on their way home for the therapist. Alice was silent. She was deep in thought so Margaret called in the order, but she made Alice go in to get it. When she walked in, she was sprayed in the face with water. “What the fu--?” She was handed a pizza box and another white bag. Inside was a slice of pineapple pizza. Vincent was laughing. “You know the rules. Don’t worry, I’m not going to charge you for it.”
“Do I have to take it?”
“Yes. Get it out of here.”
“Why not just not sell the pineapple pizza?”
“It’s fun to spray people.”
Alice grabbed a bunch of napkins and dried her face off.

Nicole Cutter - THE ORANGE PEEL GAME @nicolecutter.bsky.social · yesterday

I just can't pass this one up with my project! The Box is what every player in a strange scavenger hunt wants unlocked, set in 1949 Cleveland 🍊 My debut 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘗𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘎𝘢𝘮𝘦 is coming soon 🧡 #readsky #tbr #amreading #bookrecs #booksky #bookish 💙📚

Excerpt from The Orange Peel Game reads: A small, wooden box, golden and virtually glowing with varnish. It was thoughtfully carved. Scalloped feet. A border of inlaid, yellow flowers crowned its sealed lid. Caroline neared a step closer to determine it was a music box, though just slightly larger than most. With another shuffling step aside, she realized it could rather be a jewelry box, just slightly smaller than what a woman would prefer.
Whatever it was, it looked awfully benign. It was something that very clearly didn’t belong. She could easily step over it, or around, but it arrested her by the now sealed doors at her back and demanded her every attention. In a stripped-out theater, this small object was what remained, pristine.
As she craned her neck to look around its corners, everything about it seemed entirely innocent— all except for a massive and brutish industrial combination lock, biting on its delicate features. Caroline looked up, with an unease rising in her gut, as it all had started to feel…
Artificial.

Dan Sato @tellthestory.bsky.social · yesterday

1913. Noriko becomes the mentor that Frank has been searching for his entire life. #WIPsnips #box I'm getting bored of marketing and am looking forward to getting back to writing every day. #indiepublishing

“Like me and Stieglitz. I wanted to make pictures that looked like his.”
“Until you realized that you have a gift for portraits. When you look at people, you see them, not like most people. For most of us, we see the outside, the role, the label. ‘This person goes in this box. This other person goes in that one.’ You don’t see people like that. Your photographs capture people’s souls.”
I smiled at this, remembering how superstitious people said the same thing but in a literal sense.
“Like that studio photograph of Charley Leo. He looks like an emperor. You captured his dignity, his seriousness, his strength of character. In your portrait, Charley Leo looks like a man to be taken seriously. Do you think the people here see that when they look at him? To them, he’s just that Indian rancher. Do you know what I heard a keto rancher say about him down at the clinic? He called him an ‘uppity Injun.’ Doesn’t that mean namaiki?” She mimed a haughty person with her chin up, looking like a proud peacock.
I nodded, smiling at this performance.
“No keto, including Bill, or even William,” she continued, “would ever invite Charley to their dinner table. They might not say it, but they think they’re better than him. But they invite you. You charmed your way in. And now, your photograph can reveal to them what they have not seen.”

Judith Lalone @poeticsofthemask.bsky.social · yesterday

#WIPSnips #WrittingCommunity #box

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
A grandfather clock in the cave strikes 10. Its face is decorated like the inside of a playhouse, with a music box motor on a stage at the bottom. A wind-chime version of some opera song plays while the numbers separate from each other in six sections: 1/2/3, 4, 5/6/7, 8, 9/10/11, and 12. The sections part to reveal a rotating blue disk decorated with gold musical notes. The disc revolves counterclockwise while the numbers rotate in alternating directions. Periodically, the numbers stop and change rotations. After a minute, the music takes on a sleepier tempo, then the disc begins turning clockwise until the numbers arrive back in their proper place. The music stops and the clock resumes its normal appearance.
“Oh. I see.” Ceylan crosses her arms. “You encountered a timestorm in the past and now some of the resulting anomalies have started rearing their heads. Has it hit in the present yet?”
“I think it’s about to,” Aiyana says. “I’m pretty sure I remember seeing Isabelle and Jason on our ship.”
“Speaking of them,” Nasrin says, “I should get them home now that we’ve got the tarasques taken care of. It’s late, and they’ve always got homework to do.”
She grabs the air with both hands. Isabelle and Jason materialize at her fingertips. They’re both in sitting positions, so they immediately fall on their behinds.
“Come on,” Jason whines, “you couldn’t give us five more minutes?”
“Nope. Sorry. A security guard already saw us, and who knows how much reinforcement he’ll come back with. Best to skedaddle now.”
She vanishes and takes them with her.
“Um…” It takes Aiyana a minute to formulate her question. “Did she seem weird to you?”
“Weird’s normal for Nasrin. It’s probably just past her bedtime.”

Kasolka @heliosc7.bsky.social · yesterday

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts Oh I think he's mad. Or far beyond it. And the guy is a douchebag.

Andrew Halliwell @spike1967.bsky.social · yesterday

The #WIPSnips word for August 4th is "box" #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts From book 1

After spending a few days in the different world, my MC took Detective Inspector Stephens back to his, briefly, to phone his boss.

Mark Weaver @markweaver.bsky.social · yesterday

In "Pass The Duchy", the new duke has inadvertently invited half the duchy to have dinner with him.

“Why don’t you do it as a charity thing?”
“How?” asked John. “It’s me paying for the dinners.”
“I mean as a way of raising money for charity,” said Emerson. “You could ask for donations towards a good cause.”
“The Duchy Charity would be a good one,” said Colin.
“They’re the lot with the statuette collecting box of a child with almost every ailment known to humanity, aren’t they?” said John.
“Don’t forget about the squirrel,” said Emerson. “That thing used to give me nightmares as a kid. I used to wake up in fear of being swarmed by diseased squirrels covered in green spots.”
“It’s a worthy cause, and it’ll be good PR for you,” said Colin.
“Do they have a rep I could talk to?” asked John.
“Mrs Cartwright’s one of the main ones behind it. She can be a bit of a busybody, but her heart’s in the right place. I’ll set something up. Of course, the Duchy Herald will want it as an exclusive.”
“I wasn’t aware that there was another newspaper in the duchy,” said John.
“There isn’t, but it doesn’t hurt to splash ‘Exclusive’ over the front page from time to time,” explained Colin.

Armin Jace ✍️ At The End of the World @arminjace.bsky.social · 2d ago

Armin and Calida are ambushed by pirates during a brief orbital cruise. #starwars #starwarsocs #arminjace #calidahighmoon

"Hey, I thought you were a pilot?" Armin shouted over the comm unit.

"I am," Calida retorted. "I pilot fighters. Not this nerf."

"Watch it," Armin warned. "Just focus on keeping us in one piece."

"Are you planning on shooting anything anytime today?"

Armin ignored the jibe, training the laser turret on one of the pirate snubfighters. The unwieldy-looking ship centered in Armin's targeting bracket. The box lit up in a green color, and Armin pulled the trigger. Verdant energy poured into the smaller fighter, which ignited in a flash of flame. "Like that one?" he asked as the fireball dissipated.

"Yeah, one's great, but don't get cocky," Calida responded. "You've still got at least 3 out there."

"Fine. You point, I'll shoot," Armin answered.

STEPHAN MICHAEL LOY @stephanloy.bsky.social · yesterday

#WIPSnips The word is 'box.' In Stormbreak, Mac shows he's growing up some. He visits God in the hospital tent and she bursts into tears from what got her there. So he holds her to help her feel better? #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

"You… You tell anybody about this…" she gasped, "and you're a dead man."
"I won't."
"A tortured, mutilated dead man, buried alive."
"I won't."
She cried, heaving, and Mac held her close.
A minute or so, and it got uncomfortable. God stopped bawling, then her hitches and sobs began to dry up, then she grew gradually stiff in Mac's embrace. Mac was no dummy despite what she liked to claim; he knew when enough was enough. A quick two pats on her shoulder, then he released her and returned to his chair. She leaned back in her bed, folded her arms across her chest, and focused her gaze on the far wall of the tent.
Awkward.
"Umm, need a tissue?" Mac asked.
"That would be good."
He got up, went to the table down the middle of the tent, and snagged her a couple of Kleenexes from a box. She took them without looking at him and dabbed at her cheeks.
Mac sat down.
"So," he said, working hard to sound casual, borderline disinterested, and non-judgmental. "What was that?"
"You tell anybody, you're a dead man."
"Understood."
"You even think about using it as leverage, you're a dead man."
"Also clearly understood." He waited. Nothing came from her but a few deep breaths and sniffles. "So. What was that?"
"That, Stalker, was a minor breakdown."
"Really? From you?"
"Well, who the hell you think it was, Jay Leno in a mask?"
"Well, I just, you know… You're God."

Rodario @rodario.bsky.social · 2d ago

My snip for the word of today: Box Kiradeii and her dragon Kalia learn how to fight together. The magic bow she found giving her an edge in reading her enemies (or teachers in this case) #WIPSnips #Writesky

Robert Ellison @robert-ellison.bsky.social · yesterday

#WIPSnips - Box #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #Writing #FlashFiction #ShortStory

Kim Findlay (she/her)@authorkimfindlay.bsky.social · 2d ago

She was smiling again, that dimple on display. I wanted to press a finger into it, and then my tongue— Bad Corwin. The woman was here to help me out. If she had any idea the turns my mind was taking, she’d probably remove my balls with something in that tool box. #wipsnips

Colin J Lewis @colinjlewis.bsky.social · yesterday

The choice was a box or to box... The wonderful English language where two words spelt the same but have different meanings and pronunciations... From my #WIP A Conspiracy of Ravens #WIPSnips "box" #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

McDuffy watched him leave; while coughing again into his hand, he looked up and saw two men he didn’t recognise hanging around on a corner, they caught his eye and immediately walked away. He looked over to Halford as he got into a carriage, before going back into his home and picking out a box on his shelf. Inside was his Adams Revolver, his pistol of choice during the Ashanti war, he took it out a and loaded each chamber slowly, turning the cylinder with his thumb, before easing the hammer down, before putting it in his pocket. He calmly sat down and picked up his newspaper, flipping it open and reading the stories.

Ramblings of a Wannabe Writer @kaylee-scott.bsky.social · yesterday

Today’s #wipsnips word is “box” #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky

“My grandfather passed away fairly young from heart complications. I was 18, I think. In college. I’d always been pretty close with all of my grandparents. Big Italian family and all that. My parents and I, on the other hand, have had our differences. We’re just very different people and they haven’t always supported my passions. I’ve always wanted to write but my parents constantly steered me towards a less competitive job with a 401k or a pension and health benefits. With more security, in their eyes. To them, writing books was just something that was too risky, too likely to fail and leave me starving, living in a cardboard box somewhere. Or worse even, mooching off them the rest of their lives.”
Matt’s food came and he slid it between the two of them, nodding for her to share. She grabbed for the fried pickles.
“Ohhh, I love these things. Anyway, the last time I saw my grandfather was the day before he passed. We were all visiting him at the hospital. He turned to my mom while pointing at me and said ‘This one’s going to do great things. This one is going to be something. Just you watch.’ I will never forget that. Though sometimes I’m pretty sure I just keep letting him down.”

🌱 El(iza)beth 🌬️ K 🔥 T 🌊@arachnereid.bsky.social · yesterday

When I did a lot of work trade on farms, I learned about simple solar ovens, & they make an appearance in my debut novel Light After the Fall. #WIPsnips #box #permaculture #solarcooking

On sunny days, they brought out the solar oven, a glass covered box lined with black pitch– evergreen sap mixed with herbivore feces, sanitized through heat. Sheets of shiny metal reflected light to the absorbent dark areas, heating up the box.

Sage 💙👻🌞❄️🦸🏼‍♀️🦹🏼🦴✨🤖👽@sagecollins.bsky.social · 2d ago

Yeah, yeah, I know. I clearly have a thing for strong women carrying heavy boxes #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity From Master/Puppet 🦸‍♀️📦

Black text, green background, "box" x3 highlighted pink

Danny and I down some water bottles--I'm a fan of Crystal Geyser, not so much of Fiji water--and pack the rest into the BOX the grocery store gave us to carry them all. I transform into a muscle-bound, weight-lifting champion version of myself and haul the BOX out of the apartment.

"Well, now I feel like a wimp," he says.

"Feel free to take an end."

"No, no, I wouldn't want to infringe on a woman's right to carry a heavy BOX."

Boys.

Mark Johnston 🍁@markjohnston905.bsky.social · yesterday

From book 2 of my YA fantasy trilogy. I'm about 45k/100 into the final book now. More on trebuchets! #WIPsnips #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompts

25: Moonlight
Bert and Sana had been split up from the group and were planting new bushes in a field beside an open space where workers were trying to repair a trebuchet that hadn’t been firing properly. Bert saw an opportunity and decided to speak up.
“Not to interfere, but I’ve seen diagrams on the workings of a trebuchet before,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes to the ground. In many ways, talking to a guard was just like talking to a dragon for the first time. Eyes low, look small, small movements.
One guard laughed, but the other looked up. “A try-bush-aye, huh? Didn’t even know what it was called. You think you can fix this?”
Bert didn’t dare correct the man. “I can take a look, at least.”
“Well, come on then.” The guard waved him over. “You,” he said to Sana, “keep planting.”
She offered him a hiss in return and rolled her eyes at Bert as he walked over.
Bert had always been good with machines, and he stood looking at the trebuchet for a moment, comparing it to his memory of the diagrams Eldritch had in his tower. “Can you fire something small over the wall?” he asked. He thought he might see an issue, but wanted proof.
The men loaded a small rock and fired the device. The rock flew true, but not very far, especially for a smaller rock.
Bert nodded and climbed up the device and into the counterweight box. It hung on the short side of the arm, opposite the basket where ammunition was loaded. It was meant to act as the weight that launched whatever projectile into the air. Bert noticed the rocks inside the counterweight box were mostly to one side. As the counterweight fell, it was scraping the side of the trebuchet frame and slowing itself. As a result, it wasn’t firing with the intended full power. He kicked the rocks around and moved a few of the heavier ones, spacing them out evenly in the box. He climbed back out. “Try now,” he said, standing near the counterweight to watch it fall.

George Conway ⚖️🇺🇸@gtconway.bsky.social · yesterday

Aaron Rupar@atrupar.com · yesterday

Cornyn: "There's nothing we could do to rein in the president"

@lakerpatrick.bsky.social · 23h ago

On this day in 1944, the Gestapo found Anne Frank and her family in their Secret Annex. Her diary stands as a warning against hatred and persecution. Eighty years later, we should recognize the warning signs before it’s too late.🙂‍↕️

Ross Trevelyan 🗻🌲🦪🦀🚵‍♂️@jumpintraxjack.bsky.social · 20h ago

Almost done!🥂🥳

Donegal, Ireland.
The year is 1816. Napoleon has fallen.
And summer never came.

Volcanic ash from a distant eruption hangs over Europe, choking out sunlight and rotting the crops. Young women are vanishing—their fates whispered in frightened voices, their disappearances blamed on old superstitions. Something is abroad in the darkness. And it isn’t the wraith they know as the Taibhse.

Conall Maguire loses everything when redcoats drive him from Ravenscliff, the only home he has ever known. The bitter weather is nothing compared to what comes next: the three women he loves most disappear without a trace—taken into a world he can neither see nor reach.

What begins as an eviction becomes a chase across the known world—from the wind-bitten wilds of Donegal to the fog-shrouded French coast, the sun-bleached islands of the Aegean, and the labyrinthine ports of the Ottoman Empire.

His unlikely ally: Father Liam Burke, one-eyed Vatican spy, swashbuckler, and keeper of dangerous secrets. Together they must expose a British lord’s hidden mission for the Crown and dismantle a machine of kidnapping, murder, and human trafficking before the slave markets of Constantinople consume the women forever.

Steeped in the language of 1816 Ireland, Black as the Sea at Night is a novel of betrayal, survival, and vengeance—historical fiction at its most human. And its most savage.