The random nerdy interests of a random nerdy person
I found these images to make icons for Rainbow Fic on Dreamwidth and it’s related communities. There’s actually more than I can use. Anyway, I’m sharing them in three sizes – 100px, 200px, and 600px – which should work for wherever you want to use them. (I think it’s Discord that wanted a great big size). Credit to Silvercat17 if you want; I don’t really care. Do whatever you want with them.
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This one is a bit gruesome and very whumpy. And it doesn’t have a real ending, but it works. I’m hoping I caught all the typos
Words: 1293
Rating: PG-13
Trigger warnings: torture of a fantasy being, extreme sun exposure, injury, eye damage, skin damage
It was barely dawn and I had just finished shaving when the screaming started. I quickly wiped my razor dry, dropped it in my pack, and hurried to the street. No one else was paying any attention to it as I followed the sound. It stuttered to an end.
I turned to a merchant setting up her stall. “What was that?”
She shrugged. “What? The vampire?”
“Vampire?”
She waved vaguely toward the center of town. “In the convicts square. It’s been there a couple of days now.”
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Word count: 2151. Rating: all-ages
Summary: before Daisy Hart became Wild Heart, she was just a strawberry blonde in high school. And the Ginger Royals recruit from all red-heads…
Content notes: mild-ish verbal abuse from a parent, fatphobia, alcohol, implied underage drinking, realistic depiction of drowning (everybody’s okay), possible implied violence
Note: the gang’s name alternates freely between Ginger Queens, Ginger Kings, and Ginger Royals
Daisy wiped the water out of her eyes and pushed herself out of the pool.
“Hey Daisy, can we talk after we change?”
She glanced up – it was Lily Mills, who was the fastest swimmer in the class, had red hair that glowed like fire unlike Daisy’s pale strawberry blonde, and was a senior.
“S-sure!” Daisy was a sophomore and she’d taken swim and water safety instead of basic PE because she had thought she was already a good swimmer. Turns out she was only okay – too buoyant after a puberty boost that had turned her from round to curvy, undisciplined, and out of condition. And then she had almost no friends – her best friend ever had moved away last year after middle school, her second best friend had found cooler people to hang out with, and her other friends had so many others that Daisy was lost in the crowd. Which lately was kind of okay, because once she hit puberty her dad had changed from ignoring her to yelling at her. She looked too much like her mom, he said. Why didn’t he take care of herself? She was fat and stupid. And it was harder than ever to act like everything was okay, and school was harder, and she was just hanging on. So it would’ve been nice to have one class that she could ace.
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This is the one I was talking about earlier, with Albert inspired by BaaingTree’s Alpert. But not as cool. This not a nice story. I’ve slightly edited and updated this from the previous version.
I wanted to create an alternative term to ‘golem’ since golems are Jewish and it felt culturely… icky to use in this story and I’ve heard complaints from Jewish folk about goyim stealing it. Feel free to steal this (fenndrell means mud-slave from fen + thrall). I’m hoping I got the Latin correct – feel free to let me know otherwise.
Words: 1755. Rated PG-13
Trigger warnings: slavery, major past torture of a fantasy / artificial being, past sexual abuse of a being unable to consent
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Ocelar is Thunderian oc of mine, from a story that I am likely never to finish writing. She from the Ocalen clan, who are the guardians of plants on Thundera and beyond, welcome even on Plundarr (mostly). Ocalen can sense life force and can instantly tell who is their lifemate. Because they’re the guardians of plants, they eat as little plant matter as possible.
Ocelar ended up crashing on Third Earth after getting caught in a wormhole. The original plan was for her to be Lion-o’s lifemate, but whether I go with that and what form it takes, is very much up in the air now (they might be platonic).
I may end up doing some more reference sheets for her, of her fur pattern under the clothes and her hoverbike thingy.
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CW: mentions of violence, gangs, and religious violence. I did a write-up of Nursgil earlier if you’re curious. Like any religion it can be followed by good and bad people.
Margarida Abreiza Samema Donville said the same prayer every morning. The prayer her aunts had taught her, that their mothers had taught them, probably all the way back to the when Nursgil was brought to the old country.
As she washed, she prayed to the gods: Dunu, protect me from harm. Aldu, guide me with your wisdom. Taus, lead me to where I should be and home again. Lords of creations, send your guides to me and keep me from weakness. And as she dressed, she prayed to the guides: Angels, lead me to reflection and not to self-flagellation. Devils, lead me to passion and not to disgrace. Spirits, lead me to knowledge and not to isolation. And to her saints, as she brushed her hair (and this is where she suspected her aunts would disapprove): Cheinte Samema, as you fed the people, let me too be fed. Cheinta Abreiza, as you led the children, let me too lead my people. Cheinta Margarida, as you guarded your town, let me too guard my streets. Cheinta Samtoma, as you destroyed the unbelievers, let me too destroy my enemies. And she pinned up her hair and set out her cosmetics as carefully as she burnt incense and lit candles at the temple. Dunu, send your angels with health. Aldu, send your devils with passion. Taus, send your spirits with enlightenment. With a steady hand and a firm heart, she lined her eyes with wings as sharp as thorns and painted her lips dark as blood. Amen.
She nodded to the mirror. Time once again for Rita Donville, Odd-eye, Bad Penny, Bloody Rita, to lead the Donny Boy’s gang to the destruction of all other gangs and total control of Shard City.
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I’m trying to do more art. This is for my nsfw alias (Randi D Bugger), but the art so far is clean (nsfw art won’t be posted here – that goes on patreon, pillowfort, and furaffinity…) This is Wolpertimon, a digimon original character (aka digifake or digisona)
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A sketch of my long-time Thunderian oc, Felino. I was surprised that I couldn’t find any non-chibi art of him. He’s the same race of Thunderians as Wilykit and Wilykat, and speaks my conlang Nyjichun.
Decipherment of my notes:
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Set at an undetermined time before Doll Eyes.
Word count: 404. Rating: PG. CN: mild injury (no blood or gore)
The screwdriver slipped from my fingers. This wasn’t working.
“Rowan!” I yelled toward my sister’s flat.
A shouted reply from the other flat. “Oy! Some of us are trying to sleep!”
I ground my teeth. The new tenant. A physician. Moved in two days ago. Kept mostly diurnal hours. I wasn’t sure why Ms. Harris thought he would work out. Bother. What time was it?
I glanced at the clock set to this time zone. Nearly eleven. The doctor would have gotten in an hour and a half ago, most likely and Rowan wouldn’t return to her flat until one. I’d just have to make do until then.
~~~
Ten till one. The smell of curry from the hallway – Rowan’s usual takeaway. I opened my door slightly. “Would you come in?” Her mouth twisted. “Please?”
She huffed slightly. She hated eating anywhere but home, but I wouldn’t ask unless it was important. She pushed the door open with her foot, her expression growing darker as she gazed around my flat. I found cleaning a distraction and rarely bothered.
“What is it?” she said irritably. She caught sight of my left arm and her tone changed. “Oh.”
I’d already laid out the tools on the kitchen table and she gingerly set her bag on the cleaned counters as I sat down. I’d scrubbed the kitchen, as well as I could considering. It’d given me something to do while I waited, as boring as the process was.
“What happened?” she asked as she leaned in to inspect. My arm hung limply, the shoulder slumped.
“I must have jarred it harder than I thought during the fight last night. The rotor’s frozen.”
She frowned, peering over her glasses. “The socket is corroded.”
“I’ll have it looked at.” She glanced up, eyebrows raised. Admittedly, I had the habit of forgetting things, but I’d filed this one as important. “Tomorrow. I’ve no desire to have it fail again.”
It took her only a minute to adjust. The time wasted waiting for her was irritating, but there just wasn’t a way for me to get to the back of my own frozen shoulder.
“I’m reconnecting the terminals now.” She closed the access panel and the skin melded, once again seamless. I bit my lip hard as sensation rushed back down my arm. It was nearly overwhelming but I allowed myself only a hissed breath as Rowan washed her hands.
I rose, flexing my hand to chase away the last of the pins and needles. “Thank you. Enjoy your dinner.”
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I'm alternately known as Silvercat, Silver, and Silver Tyger. Check out the categories for regular features.
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