Some thoughts about the President of the United States speaking about ending a civilization. The president speaks genocide. Anyone who has been involved in that conversation or associated actions would be complicit. And so we too must speak. Not only about crimes, but about their legal punishment.

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True enough.

😂Hey--that was fun!! Thank you, Jared!!

Did I miss the part where Americans started supporting genocide and other war crimes?

23 people could stop this genocidal war criminal. That’s it. 23.

20 Republican senators and 3 republican reps in the house and he’d be out of politics forever. But they won’t.

They’re addicted to power. A drug so strong they’d rather see a civilization die than give it up.

“They were the best of times, they were the best of times…”

This pOst could've useD a sharp editOR.

We won't last 33 more months of this.

This must stop.

We must make it stop.

When she got to the intersection where she first met Kate, Kate was standing there. At the same time, Sophia knew that she wasn’t. She couldn’t — not unless she grew wings or could run faster than Sophia could ride, and to be fair at this point she couldn’t rule either of those possibilities completely out, but there was something different about the whole thing, and Sophia decided that what made the most sense was that she saw her standing there, but not standing then. It was the most realistic memory she had ever had.

Memories always take the shortcut.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky

Great image!

They rode into the sunset that day. A crumbled asphalt river was their guide, with worn dust paths snaking alongside, occasionally cutting shortcuts over hills, or down to water sources. It was a mystery who traveled those paths.

#WIPsnips #shortcut

So, they had retraced their steps, more or less, back towards the border. Dray and Mira knew many shortcuts and drier paths, so it had taken a lot less time to cover the distance. They had also stopped at caves, huts and platforms in trees that Bert and Cat hadn’t noticed on the way. They all had water and food caches in them, as well as comfortable bedding and wood for fires. All in all, it had been a much better journey back. Until they fell upon a group of scouts. The men were wearing armor, carrying weapons and had crow emblems all over. They had been moving stealthily, but Mira had spotted them long before they got close. She didn’t think they were part of a larger army, but rather just a group sent to keep a lookout for dragons. Bert had no idea how any of it worked, but she seemed to know what she was talking about. The plan was to sit quietly and let them pass, but Bert had messed it up. Of course it had to have been him. He had belted on his sword, feeling like a big shot. Everything had been going well as they waited for the men to pass. Mira had the four of them moving quietly to stay out of sight. They had been behind a tree and Bert hadn’t realized his sword scabbard had been stuck in a branch. As he stood to follow, he had pulled hard and the branch had fallen loudly on the ground, sending birds flying in fear from a nearby bush. Cat and Dray had taken off quietly in one direction and they hadn’t been heard from since. Mira had shouted to grab the attention of the five scouts, who had immediately turned to chase her. Bert had followed. Possibly out of shame, but he was telling himself out of bravery.

This one's from Dragon Tongue, which is book one in my YA Fantasy series. My WIP is book 2.

My MC takes his friend home to Failsworth. As the train system collapsed and cars are only toys for the rich, it's horse and trap all the way. He decides to avoid Manchester because of how busy it was the last time he visited.

The #WIPSnips word for April 7th is "shortcut" #WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity

From book 2

I figured where this was going, and we short-circuited a lot of vocabulary negotiations. The roles were, in fact, fundamental to most societies. I did a little drama of ‘first character’ coming into ‘second character’s’ house. The ‘second’ offered food and drink, shelter, and protection. I indicated myself as I stood in that position, and said, “Host.” I switched to the first character position, and used more words. “Guest,” with the same ‘me’ gesture: fingers on breastbone. “Not hurt host. Not…” I mimed yanking something from the ‘host.’ I hesitated a second… but it seemed prudent, necessary. “Not go… other place, no say.” I waved out the windows, at the city. Their words were ‘gohsih’ for ‘host’ and ‘sholoo’ for ‘guest.’ In almost no time Atosho was able to make things explicit. “You be good guest, I be good host.”

#WIPSnips 7: shortcut

Vibes, even has the same meaning...

#SciFi

Mac wondered if they'd tested it properly. He'd read too many stories of the shortcuts made by billionaires. Years before, a deep submergence vehicle had imploded while diving on the Titanic wreck. The billionaire engineer involved hadn't tested his design as thoroughly as expected. Mac didn't want Peekaboo to fall victim to that kind of cowboy ship design. The assemblage moved on to the C-5 hangar. As they did so, Mac drew up beside Peekaboo and Bird. "Hey," he said, leaning down to bring his face more even with that of the petite Acoma pilot. "Hey, Dougie Mac," she said, and gave him an enthusiastic smile that lifted his heart for no reason at all. "Don't you hit on m'girl," Bird warned and draped an arm around Peekaboo's shoulders. She leaned into him and nuzzled as they walked. "I'm not hitting on the lady," Mac protested. "I just wanted to say, that was some next-level teardown of that Osprey back there." "It was just doing my homework," Peekaboo said. "I'm an Osprey jockey, you know." "I know. Do you know if all those design improvements are actually, you know, improvements?" "Oh, Doug, have a little faith." "Yeah, Stalker." Bird passed him a fiendish grin. "Have a little faith. Maybe over there with Xena." Mac let that float on by. Bird knew him well enough not to be actually concerned. "I was thinking the whole time, Peekaboo, that the Osprey hasn't had the best reputation. Hey, Jarhead! What do they call the V-22?" "The Widowmaker," Jarhead called back.

From Stormbreak. The pilots-in-training are introduced to an improved vertical takeoff and landing plane. Doug, who thinks he knows everything, is warning Peekaboo, who will fly the plane, that it's dangerous. He doesn't know that she test piloted the aircraft.
#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity

I hear a raven's voice from her.

From draft one of Book 3 (TMF), chapter 15, Isyra POV: They passed an old woman who was sitting on the ground. She was missing both eyes; the skin had grown over the sockets. She raised her head as they passed and cackled. “They say the godsingers broke the land,” the old woman said. “So we cut them to pieces and buried them amidst the sands of the Ashirak.” Finn quickened his steps, and they hurried past her, but Isyra’s eyes stayed on the woman, and the woman, blind as she was, seemed to look back at Isyra. “I see you,” she cackled, and Isyra hurried to catch up. Finn approached an inn called The Gilded Scorpion. More destitute people sat and lay in front of the inn, and Isyra could not help but feel for them while she avoided eye contact.

Our circus crew have just arrived at the desert country of Thalis… 🎪🖤✨ #WIPSnips from TMF subbing “avoid” for “shortcut”

"My next marriage is going to last. I've agonized over our breakup, and this issue was all on me. I was going to bring a child into a situation when we'd agreed not to do so. I wasn't mature enough to recognize a problem and discuss it, so I tried a shortcut. That was on me.”
#wipsnips

My snip for the word of today: shortcut
I have to go for vibes again. The wyvern (2 legs, 2 wings) Grifnir grows slower than anyone else. The serpent (6 legs, no wings) Virell has a magical shortcut

#WIPSnips #Writesky

I definitely felt it. Bravo!

God, I ache for him, just to be near him, just to hear his voice. I wonder how anyone else has ever survived this. It’s like there’s something physically wrong with me, the pain is so real, so intense. There’s a tightening in my chest, like it’s trying to compensate for something that’s missing, to close in on the hole that now resides there, but I won’t let it. That hole is filled with his memories, the memories that have already started to fade. I can’t let any more of them disappear. I need those memories like I need air. I need them to survive, for him to survive, and I’m certainly not going to let my body cheat me out of that. I pull my knees up into the sweatshirt and spot Marc’s button down lying on the extra set of pillows. It’s the one thing I hadn’t shoved back into the laundry basket and I wonder how it happened that the one piece of laundry that has meaning is the one piece still lying on my bed. I reach for it and look at it questioningly, expecting it to light up or open some secret passageway or something.

I didn’t have today’s #wipsnips word “shortcut” so I went with “passage”. #writingcommunity #writingprompts #writersky #writesky #amwriting

The hint of a playful smile tugging at Dan’s lips. Magda knew that expression, that stance: he was about to teach her something, and it was… thrilling. Thrilling to watch him negotiate, lay down terms she’d never have thought about herself. Not getting it done here. Abiding by the standard terms, through a call from the human world to the Obverse, and yes, this was more difficult now, yet there were ways to circumvent this—having the spirit’s name, for starters. And more: the need for a proper contract. No time limit on her decision making, regardless of the result. No retaliation. Clauses of secrecy, in acceptance and in refusal. The Riddler themself seemed taken aback; perhaps he had expected such savvy from a mage, not from a vampire.

I don't have shortcut, but I have circumvent. That should work?
#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #DreamNoMore

Context: Dan negotiating with a Spirit on Magda's behalf.

“It was soft, the body. It had molted recently. At that size, the leg should not have come off that easily. The rest of the body was too easy to break as well. That and ... it’s never had a mate, and it sure isn’t now.” Although baffled by Bedlam’s knowledge of the arachnid, I wasn’t about to doubt the confidence in his voice. Ethgar and Damion were still out cold, and while we had a general idea about our destination, there was no telling what kind of forks we might expect. The path should’ve been simple, from what Damion said. However, he had never encountered these spiders, so there was no telling if there were alternative paths that could lead us astray.

#WIPSnips Shortcut. I went with "Alternative". Vibes, right? Bedlam the minotaur had just dispatched a giant spider, surprising our hero with his knowledge of the ararchnids.

Text in the alt.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky

Text

#WIPSnips #fantasy #writesky #writingcommunity

Foley gulped his beer. “Heavier lading’s a divil—ships’ guns an’ the like. An’ o’ that we carry plenty. A shipwreck on the coast brings carriage guns, powder kegs, rifles, an’ shot all movin’ down our pier.” “From wreckers?” “Aye—wreckers jibberin’ the kibber, as they will. But His Lordship helps the insurers win back their ladin’.” “Know the man Warwick?” “Aye, an’ hard as flint is he. Ye keep out o’ Cap’n Warwick’s path, else he’s through ye for a near-cut. But the man knows his ships—does higher tasks for His Lordship. How ye know him?” Captain Warwick? “Chanced to meet him onced, aye. Mhuise, told me of an African fella in Derry—a man come off a whaler. Will ye blieve that now?” Maguire feigned a laugh. “Now where in the green hills o’ Donegal would ye hide a dark fella?” Foley wrinkled his forehead. “We had one onced—a great dark man an’ och, strong in labor was he. No taildraft, I tell ye. Ye might see such a man on ships up from Spain or Portugal, had yez a mind for it.” “When did he work?” “Couple year back.” “Yez ever carry travelers?” Foley tipped his head. “Well, ye might call ’em that—His Lordship transports convicts for the king.” Maguire’s heart leapt. “Convicts?”

“Aye, we bring ’em partway to Van Diemen’s Land. Quare thing, though—ourselves vittlin’ of a night, the masther, he warns us, ‘ye can go down the hold, but nary a foot to the orlop,’ which made us all the more curious of course. The lockups weren’t finished, see, an’ wouldn’t ye know—by an’ by a drunken wench comes up topside. Couldna tell was she laughin’ or cryin’. Foley tossed his head. “Swear she’d supped a whole puncheon. An’ a couple dozen more held below, said she.” “Ah, but she looked no convict, sure—all eyesweet an’ bejeweled an’ in finery like ne’er afore did I see. We figured the masther fetched her aboard as his laced mutton.”

#WIPSnips: shortcut > near-cut, in Ulster since ~1614.

Conall Maguire has turned up an important clue by plying a Derry ship's steward with drink.

Mhuise [wisha] is a light curse (Ir.).
CW for insensitive speech.

#MistyMonday

📍Pennsylvania

If he does... will THAT be the signal that someone should start talking about the 25th?

It think it's overdue.

🤣

Who remembers what happened in 1956?
Do any Westerners still know what this means?