Black text, green background, “recommended” highlighted pink I turn from the lab bench, and my mouth falls open. I must've seen him about a million times at Eastman, Corp. Late-twenties, maybe early-thirties. Tall and plump, dark brown skin, hair spiked up. He's developing a little square bit of fuzz on his chin, and it looks ridiculous because I've always considered him to have kind of a baby face with round cheeks and those big brown eyes. I'm betting he hasn't changed that much, though, and that under his buttoned-up lab coat, he's wearing some sort of nerdy t-shirt, "respectable top" be damned. "Brendan!" "Hey, I... know you." Well, obviously, since I just said his name. Honestly. In retrospect, I shouldn't have. Sure, he's seen me as Evie a couple times, but mostly he knows me as the Chameleon. "I was a friend of Apollo Eastman," I say, quick to cover up why I was at Eastman, Corp., why he'd recognize me. A thought passes through my brain that he might not even remember Apollo, despite working for his father forever. "Apollo. That poor kid." "Yeah," I say softly. At least in his death, he got noticed by people, but I doubt that's enough for either Apollo or Ace. 50's eyeing us, and I change the subject from Apollo quickly. "So how long have you been a Lab Coat?" "Dr. Eastman RECOMMENDED me to the League after...the accident."

It’s Evie’s first day as a Lab Coat for the League, where she finds that Brendan, Dr. Eastman’s longtime assistant, landed on his feet better than poor Dr. E

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From Super/Human 🦸🏼‍♀️🥼

My snip for the word of today: recommend (advice)
Book 2, unedited
Kiradeii feels pressured into leading the free Dragon Riders. Much like her dad used to for leading her village.
Today, she snaps and makes clear she doesn't want to lead.

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My snip for the word of today: recommend (advice)
Book 2, unedited
Kiradeii feels pressured into leading the free Dragon Riders. Much like her dad used to for leading her village.
Today, she snaps and makes clear she doesn't want to lead.

#WIPSnips #Writesky

Ellen Maguire glided across the bridge, cradling the swaddled infant. Bachelors spread shoulder to shoulder, some instinct bidding them lower their batons and hush their pugnacious voices. Her mantle’s hood hid all but her mouth and chin, her lithe figure keeping time with a gavotte every maneye followed. A flame-haired Defender tipped his cap. “G’day to yez, Ellen Maguire.” Her name tumbled off his tongue as if she’d dashed it with opium. Sherkey’s eyes flicked between Ellen and the Defender—calculating—an animal scenting blood, something dark on the hunt. Conall feared a brawl. The bow of Ellen’s lips curled into a smile. “G’day to yourself, Tadhg McHugh. Han’t seen Fionnuala.” “She’s waitin’ for Donie. That wee Maggie there?” Aye, ’tis.” McHugh looked down at his brogues. “M-may I ax yez a q-question?” “Course ye may.” Ellen shifted the babe to one arm and cast back her deep-green hood. Her dark, silken hair was plaited into a crown; her eyes shone like obsidian gems in powder-white sand, soft sable brows arched above, strong cheekbones below—a harmony of youth and beauty. A flicker of mischief flared her nostrils, and the air seemed to thicken around her. Men vied for the smallest scrap of her notice—a furtive glance, a nod—drinking her in like a rare wine. “Lord God!” Peg croaked to her companion. “She’s beyont the common, I tell ye—the sighth’ll pull the lookers clean outta your head. Had I ne’er seen Mary, I’d swear that’n elfin—them eyes she has—black as the sea at night.” Kate drew an ingressive gasp. “Aye, Pride of the Poisoned Glen is she, a child no more, but a woman in full bloom in her mantle so green.”

Kate shook her head as if in disbelief and coughed into her fist. “Divil a purtier. There’s a betwitchin’ power comes off her, Peg. Will ye look—meltin’ all the swains. Ye’d think ’twas the races, the way they line up.” “Whenever will ye marry, Ellen Maguire?” The Defender lilted over her name again, as though pronouncing scripture. Ellen kept her voice low. “Found naught in the cake at Samhain.” Meaning Mary hadn’t yet given her daughter leave to wed. Conall fixed his eyes on his mother. Her face bespoke a raw fear—that one of her sons might take a life to avenge Peter, shattering their eternity together. Taking what God had given was no man’s right. Peter hadn’t killed a soul, yet they’d been quick to take his in the king’s name. And God alone knew Séamus’s fate, though the Maguires held their suspicions. The babe stirred. Ellen peeled back a corner of the blanket and cooed, dipping her head. “Must be along now, Tadhg.” Ellen hurried through the masculine gauntlet. McHugh watched Sherkey scramble to intercept her. Ellen veered sharply to avoid him. Donagh caught his sister’s elbow, blackthorn at the ready. “Blood’n thunder! Ye can’t abide ’twixt Orangemen an’ Defenders.” “That the sheriff’s son?” “So he is.” “B’gob, Donie, what’s he want with me?” Donagh held his tongue and hastened his twin and the babe toward Mary. Sherkey’s baton cracked against Donagh’s bicep from behind. “Maguire!” Donagh quickened his pace. Sherkey jabbed Donagh’s shoulder blade. Donagh whipped around and whacked Sherkey’s fingers, sending the baton skittering across the road.

The drunken biddies pealed with laughter—until they recognized the humiliated man. Red-faced Edmund Sherkey glowered at Donagh. “Comes another day, Donagh Maguire.” Donagh saluted, mocking. “Le do thoil, Éamon Ó Searcaigh.” As ye please. “Ye’ll ne’er be aught but a whitewashed pig, a torncoat to your race.” Sherkey bristled at the Irishing of his name. Tarlach appeared with his cudgel. Sherkey beckoned to his faction. “Who’s me second, then?” Their eyes dropped—fighting Defender-backed Tarlach Maguire would be suicide. A mass faction fight would draw yeomen and regulars, who’d break it with deadly force. Sherkey retrieved his baton from the cobbles. Once upright, his eyes gleamed with dark intent. A scruffy white terrier sniffed at Sherkey’s ankle and lifted its leg, provoking a fresh burst of laughter.

#WIPSnips: fight

Market Day, 8th May 1800. Edmund Sherkey, the sheriff's son, is present with his faction. Although Tarlach Maguire is not a faction man, Defenders are willing to back him in a fight. Both Sherkey & the Defender leader, Tadhg McHugh, have an interest in beautiful Ellen Maguire.

Black text, green background, “fight” highlighted pink "Let go. I have an invitation. Just let me--" The first one backhands me, cold pain reverberating through my jaw where his hand connects. "Shut up, Summer. The king will decide what to do with you." I'm so shocked--from the action itself, the pain, or the cold, I'm not sure--that I forget to FIGHT them, until I realize they're bringing me to Jack's father. The rough one tries to shove me down to my knees, but I utterly refuse to kneel, shoving back against him with my shoulder in an effort to stay standing and free myself. "Why, you--" His hand is poised to hit me again, when Jack grabs it, squeezing so hard purple marks web out from under his fingers across the guy's palm. Mr. Rough grits his teeth, perhaps in an effort to keep from crying out. "Touch him again and you'll find yourself missing a limb," Jack says coolly. "Do you not recognize Prince Summer? If not his face, surely the insignia and crown would give it away."

Though he was invited, Sunny’s sneaking around the Winter ball, until a Winter catches him & tries to make him kneel to King Frost

Sunny may not have fighting skills but he’s got spunk & principles

And Jack

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From Summer’s Cruel Warmth, Winter’s Gentle Chill 🌞🕺

Painful for sure, especially when it burst through your skin
It will definitely give a kick if you survive it

She looked around. What little tidying she had managed to get done in the Infirmary might as well be none at all, for how cluttered it all still looked. In truth, she had no idea what this module had been while Diodorus was squatting here—but it had cabinets, and one of those cabinets had a first aid kit and a dust-covered medical scanner in there, so Yana had dragged two cots and a chair in and deemed it the ship’s infirmary. It was that very scanner that she fished for. It stuck slightly to her hand when she held it, and when switched on, produced a worrying staccato that clawed at her ears and vibrated down her arm, but as far as she could tell, it was perfectly functional. She pressed its flat surface to Rook’s dumb thick skull, ran it up and down, ignoring their protests all throughout, until she was satisfied. “No concussions. No internal bleeding.” Rook glanced down at their ruined uniform. “Just external, then?” “Here, take a fresh towel. Hold it up to your nose until it stops.” “Don’t worry, Captain, I’ve dealt with nosebleeds before.” “Got in plenty of fights back in the homeworld?” Yana asked jokingly. “Yeah.” She blinked. There was a bluntness to Rook’s answer that she had not expected. “Really? You never seemed the violent sort to me.” “Oh, I’m really not. But you gotta get into fights sometimes, you know? It’s just how it is.” She stared them down, unsure of the seriousness of their answer.

#WIPSnips

Rook used to love a good brawl. Still does, but it rarely comes up in their current assignment.

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Morning #WIPSnips.
Day five of unbearable heat and I'm struggling to fight against it. Much like Sam here in this snip.

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My snip for the word of today: Fight
Of Book 2, still needs editing
Rodario has ended the fight with Sarnath. Now the magic runs uncontrollably through his body, burning him from the inside.

#WIPSnips #Writesky

My snip for the word of today: Fight
Of Book 2, still needs editing
Rodario has ended the fight with Sarnath. Now the magic runs uncontrollably through his body, burning him from the inside.

#WIPSnips #Writesky

After Aibreán slipped over the first earthwork, Tarlach crossed himself with the loaded derringer, untroubled by the blasphemy. He watched till she scrambled over the far rampart, then trudged back to the tethered mare, smoothing the bacon fat in the four-barrel’s chambers with his little finger. Couldn’t risk a misfire. Wind rippled the grass as he led the mare to the first earthwork. He climbed it, dropping into a barren stretch of the fosse, then up again to the narrow path skirting the ráth’s foundation. The ancient stones glared down from the battlements, remnants of a time long forgotten. Tarlach kept tight to the revetment, quickening his step. Even after centuries, the base stones still fitted so close a cat’s claw wouldn’t slip between them. A sudden blast of wind knocked a fist-sized stone loose above him. Startled, he halted. Bess nickered and shifted her weight. Another gust rattled a smaller stone free; it skittered past the mare’s foreleg. Tarlach scanned the wall above, too close to see over the crest. Stones torn down by wind and human hands littered the ditch below. He edged on. Gravel pattered down like dice tossed by an unseen hand. Tarlach hunched, shielding his head, pressing his back hard against the wall. Above him—shuffling. Then more. Tarlach froze.

A musket barrel slid out between two merlons, sweeping the field for a mark. A metallic click—the hammer thumbed back. Another barrel followed. Then a third. Tarlach’s heart hammered in his throat. Releasing Bess might buy him a heartbeat to slip away from the ráth and off the plateau. He dropped the reins and urged the mare back into the fosse. Tarlach drew a long breath and cocked the Liège derringer, his finger caressing the paired triggers.

#WIPSnips: shimmy > scramble

Our story: Tarlach Maguire & Aibreán O'Byrne are up in the Blue Stacks, making their way past the ruins of Lios na Carraige Ghoirme, a fort rumored to be the haunt of outlaws. Neither has a shimmy in them, but at least Aibreán has a scramble.😅

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Mornin' #WIPSnips.
Don't have shimmy, but got the next on the list for synonyms from Cavern Clipper.
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My snip for the word of today: Shimmy
I actually used the word yesterday as it fitted a scene.
Not fully happy with some of the sentences, but I like the vibe and small character show and growth.
Kiradeii's (23) caring for Lira as a child (16), gets misinterpreted

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My snip for the word of today: Shimmy
I actually used the word yesterday as it fitted a scene.
Not fully happy with some of the sentences, but I like the vibe and small character show and growth.
Kiradeii's (23) caring for Lira as a child (16), gets misinterpreted

#WIPSnips #writesky

My snip for the word: Resident (Villager)
I only have villagers, residents of a... village
The snip is early in the relationship of Kiradeii and Rodario. Him not being as smooth and cool as he wanted to be

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My snip for the word: Resident (Villager)
I only have villagers, residents of a... village
The snip is early in the relationship of Kiradeii and Rodario. Him not being as smooth and cool as he wanted to be

#WIPSnips #Writesky

Mornin' #WIPSnips.
Pretty sure this is cheating, but I'm too hot and sweaty to really care at this point.
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My snip for the word of today: Chapter
After an argument, they follow an old man that seems to know a lot about them.
She suddenly remembers what he reminds her off.

#WIPSnips #Writesky

My snip for the word of today: Chapter
After an argument, they follow an old man that seems to know a lot about them.
She suddenly remembers what he reminds her off.

#WIPSnips #Writesky

My snip for the word of today: Screw
I don't have screws or nails. I do have a description of a village and a building. There are some nails or screws somewhere.

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G'morning #WIPSnips! Things have gone a bit... screwy for the command crew of the Silverbrow in this snip. However will they make it out??
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Black text, green background, “screwed” highlighted pink We're taking a quiz today, so I try to focus on that instead of Ren's icy stare. How long can he keep this up? This is Ren, spirit of cheerfulness. I never expected him to be mad at me for anything this long. But he hasn't even softened. God, I SCREWED up. I finish my quiz, though I can't say I answered the questions well, or even what the questions were. Then I close my eyes and focus on Ren. Is it just me, or is he harder to sense today? He's not as bright in person, but also isn't as bright in my mind

From beaming yesterday to growing dim today. Blake used a working to control Ren, & Ren may never forgive him for it. But what does it mean when the only Casperfied ghost loses his light?

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From A Paranormal Bromance (1) 👻🪫

My snip for the word of today: Screw
I don't have screws or nails. I do have a description of a village and a building. There are some nails or screws somewhere.

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G'morning #WIPSnips! I had sooooo many to choose from for today's prompt! Here's my choice for today.
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Black text, green background, no highlight It's totally possible-nah, the word is likely-that Mom likes my obnoxiously cheerful dead best friend more than she likes me. "Pass me the salt, Blake," she says, but it's already appeared, at least to her eyes, next to the stove. Ren has his ever-present smile already spread across his face, so when she says, "Thank you, Ren," he has no way of showing his joy except to get brighter, nearly blinding the only person in the room who can see him. Me. "Turn it down." It's the sort of thing I've always said, but instead of grumbling it, I kind of laugh instead. She's keeping him entertained, he's helping her out, they're both happy, and I'm free to escape to my room. How can I be annoyed by that?

Guys, Ren is a ghost who literally grows brighter when he smiles. And I love the word “beam.” So you’d think I would have one instance in 3 books of Ren beaming

You’d be wrong.

So here’s him “beaming” at the beginning of book 3

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From A Paranormal Bromance 3 👻😁

My snip for the word of today: Beam
Rodario has found out that his protector, Alisa, was actually the architect of his parents death. Now his magic has went haywire, bringing the hate of the village for the forbidden arts

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My snip for the word of today: Beam
Rodario has found out that his protector, Alisa, was actually the architect of his parents death. Now his magic has went haywire, bringing the hate of the village for the forbidden arts

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G'morning #WIPsnips!
Had a massive selection to choose from, but decided this one would work quite well, imo.
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Black text, green background, “massive” highlighted pink "I'm a villain." I wring a purple tank top I just took from Evie's dresser as I try to give a hearty villain laugh--the basic "mwahaha" can't go wrong; it's a classic--to chase away the ache in my gut, but I can't get enough breath to support it. "You...did this to me," I say out loud. I need to say it to her for real. I stumble downstairs, the bag still in my hand, and find the Dark's handset in the kitchen next to the sink, where it always sits. I hit the number two for the speed dial to Evie's cell. As usual, I don't hear it ring, but I know it did. "Evie," I say after her generic voicemail message, "I need you to answer me. I need you to find a way to talk to me. I don't know what you're doing to me, but I don't want to feel like this, so please stop. I hate this, and I hate you, but I love you, and why won't you return my messages? Why do I feel like this? I hate it. It's so weak." I lean back into pantry door and let myself sink down to the floor. I haven't ended the call, but I don't know what to say. It feels like there's so much, like it's so MASSIVE, and there's something more I need her to help me work out, and all I can do is sit here, cradling the phone to my ear and holding a bag that's only half-packed, trying to ignore the part of my brain that's calling me a coward for running away. "Everything would be okay if we could just be together."

Ace panics in the face of wishing he’d been Bug’s hero. No, no, he’s a villain!

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From Super/Human 🦹🏼☎️

My snip for the word of today: Massive
Lira is from a tiny and poor village called Brimharrow. An empty shell compared to Fishtide Village across the lake.
She dreams to explore the world, as soon as her mom let's her.

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