Category: Tidbits

Donville’s Morning Prayer (Shard-verse)

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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drawing of an action figure's shoulder

Writing – BJD (Puzzle-Verse)

2 comments

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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Cafuné (Shard-verse)

Cafuné (Brazilian Portueguese): The act of tenderly running one’s fingers through someone’s hair.

Rated G. 872 Words. CW: mentions of being in the hospital, weight loss due to illness. Set in the morning after Gökotta

Delia woke to the smell of fresh coffee and dragged herself out of bed. Washing her face and running her fingers through her hair was enough to make her presentable enough to head for the living room. Quigley had said they’d come early, even though it wasn’t Wednesday, to celebrate Nathan being home. Nathan was sitting in the corner of the couch, Joel sprawled over the rest with his feet in Nathan’s lap, each with a book. She leaned down and kissed the top of Nathan’s head.

“Oh, hi!” Nathan tilted his head up and got another. “Our ghost is sneaking around again.”

She scoffed, petting his hair. “You were just distracted.”

“I heard her,” Joel said without looking up from his book. “Hi mom. Quigley’s going to make French toast if you want to tell them you’re up. They said they were starting the dusting.”

“You’re hungry then?”

“I’m a growing kid,” he said dispassionately.

“You can’t use that excuse that much longer.” She ruffled his hair on her way by and rolled her eyes at his fake grimace.

~ ~ ~

Delia couldn’t stop watching Nathan as they ate. It’d been almost three months since he’d been home. He’d lost weight and was even paler than normal. He’d tied his hair back like usual, but instead of it flowing down his back and shoulders like liquid gold, it lay lifeless where it didn’t stick out like dandelion fluff. He smoothed it unconsciously and irritation flickered over his face. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Hey. Love you.”

He shrugged. “I’m a mess.”

“It’s fine.” He squeezed back before letting go to grab another piece of French toast before Joel ate it all. “I have to run into the office to take care of a couple of things that can’t wait. Anything you two want me to pick up while I’m out?”

“Can you stop at Action-Os for my comics?” Joel asked.

“If you give me the money for them.” He rolled his eyes and stole a piece of bacon from her plate.

“Yeah, there’s a couple of things,” Nathan said. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

“Thanks Del.”

~ ~ ~

He was napping when she got back, splayed out on the bed with his arm over his eyes. She smiled and set down the bag from the pharmacy in the bathroom before sitting down next to him. He made a soft sound and rolled over.

“Hey,” he mumbled.

“Hey handsome.” She ran her fingers through his hair and he leaned his forehead against her leg with a happy sigh. “Can I wash your hair?”

“I did it last night.”

“Mm. I got some different conditioner. For dry hair.” He made a face – he’d always had the opposite problem. “I haven’t gotten to play with your hair in ages and a couple of the nurses definitely wanted to keep you, you flirt.”

He turned and smiled up at her. “I can’t help it.”

“In the hospital and still a heartbreaker.” She poked him, gently, in the side. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

He propped himself up. “Apparently by letting you wash my hair.” He rubbed his eyes. “Well, at least I get to see a beautiful body.”

Delia scoffed. “Come on. Let’s get our beautiful bodies off the bed.”

Delia had insisted on a big fancy tub when they moved in and once again was glad for it. Getting into the tub involved more than the usual amount of kissing and groping. Finally Nathan leaned against the side and side. “I’m getting really tired of being tired,” he grumbled.

“You’ve gotten through a lot.”

“Yeah…”

She grabbed the shampoo. “Come here.”

He rouched out and snagged her foot with his. “Nope. Too tired.” She splashed him gently and came over.

~ ~ ~

He sighed happily as she massaged the lather through his hair. “That’s nice.”

She leaned over and kissed a suds-free patch of skin. “Lean back.” She caught his smirk. “And not onto my chest.”

“But I’m tired. I need a pillow.” But he obligated and helped rinse out his hair. He wiped his eyes as she reached for the conditioner. “This is much nicer than at the hospital.”

“You weren’t tempted by the cute nurses?” she teased.

“I didn’t see any as cute as you.”

She shook her head with a smile. “Liar.” Conditioner and leave-in conditoner later, his hair was feeling less like straw and more like its usual silk.

He looked at her with puppy dog eyes. “Braid my hair?”

“Of course.”

He pulled out the seat at the counter and sat as she found a com and hair band, the both of them in just towels around their waist. She was careful as she ran her fingers through his hair to ease out the tangles before follwing with the comb.

“How long are you planning on spoiling me?” he asked as she started to braid.

“I don’t know. How long are we planning on being married?” She was a fast braider and soon she was tying it off. “There you go. Come on, I’m getting cold.”

He pulled it forward and ran his hands over it. “Thanks, love.”

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Gökotta (Shard-verse tidbit)

This is set after Nathan gets home from the hospital following the events in Devotion

Gökotta (Swedish): To wake up early in the morning with the purpose of going outside to hear the first birds sing.

Rated G. CW: being in the hospital is mentioned but no details given, mention of weight loss (not dieting)

Nathan was a morning person, but usually a bit later in the morning. But this was the first time he’d slept in his own bed since his accident. He’d even gone to bed later than usual, not as late as Delia, but it was almost 10 pm before his eyes got heavy. He’d slept so much at the hospital, even if it was poorly and often interrupted. He’d woken up a bit when Delia climbed into bed and wrapped her arms around him.

“God, I missed you,” she whispered.

“Me too,” he whispered, wrapping his hand around her strong ones. This was the final piece of being home – being in their bed, together, entwined. He sighed and fell asleep quickly. If he dreamed, he didn’t remember it. He’d had strange dreams in the hospital, some of them disturbing, most of them just fragments of nonsense.

He woke up, laying on his back. The room was dim and comfortable and Delia was still snuggled against him. He turned over and brushed her hair out of her eyes. He’d missed her so much. She’d always been a reliable presence, strong and graceful. He sighed noiselessly. He was fully awake. He carefully extricated himself from the sheets. Delia was a heavy sleeper, but still.

In the bathroom, he closed the door before turning on the light. He usually tied his hair back before bed but had forgotten, and it was a rats nest of tangles. “You’ve looked better,” he told his reflection. He’d lost weight. He’d fix that in time. He washed his face and then grabbed his brush and sat down to deal with the tangles.

The first hints of dawn were just beginning. He stood and pushed open the window. The air was chilly, but fresh in a way that the sanitized hospital air never was. After a moment, and several knots untangled, the birds started to welcome the sun with joyful song. He smiled and leaned back to listen.

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Iktsuarpok (Shard-verse)

Iktsuarpok (Inuit) – The feeling of anticipation that leads you to keep looking outside to see if anyone is coming. (This definition is questionable – I could only find it in lists of untranslateable words)

One of Magpie’s and Wild Streak’s get-togethers, but he’s running late, as usual, but apparently not for the usual reasons

CW: mentions of parental abuse (literally, it’s just mentioned that Daisy was abused), mentions dangerous driving and police, implied relationship with significant age difference (they aren’t dating at this point, but Daisy is in high school and everyone else is far beyond that)

Rating: G

Magpie put down the lock and her tools. Dammit, she didn’t expert Wild Streak to be on time, but this was getting ridiculous. They didn’t get together that often, and usually at Wild Streak’s place. This time, he’d said – and it was obvious he was being prompted by Charles, the sweetie – that he didn’t want to disturb Daisy while she was doing homework. She’d thought she’d had him figured out years ago, but turned out he still had surprises. No idea who Daisy was, but it was the first time she’d heard that sort of affection from him.

She turned up the police radio. She hadn’t heard anything, but nothing else was as in character for him as catching the attention of some cop. He’d get away, probably, and have a good time doing it. Of course, that’d only be if Wild Streak was driving and his boys had stopped that ages ago. Andre was smart enough to keep the cops from noticing them.

A knock on the door. Finally!

Wild Streak strode in, the mannerless oaf, carrying his kit like it was weightless. She grinned. “What took you so long?”

His smile faded. “Oh. Uh. Daisy was upset.”

Andre prompted from a step behind him. “She doesn’t know who Daisy is yet.” He waved and held up a big cookie tin. “Hi Magpie. Charles sent snickerdoodles.”

“There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

“Got it.” Andre headed that way.

Wild Streak set his bag next to the couch and flopped down. “Somebody was teasing Daisy. At school,” he started, pulling out his lockpicks.

She rolled her eyes. “Backtrack a bit there. Why do you have a school age kid at your hide-out?”

“Her dad abused her,” he said with a shrug.

“Since when do you care?”

Another, more eloquent shrug. “Since it was her.”

Andre returned with a tray with cookies and drinks for all of them. “We don’t get it either, but he adores her and she’s a peach.”

“Okay then, how’d you meet her?” And his face lit up, like she’d only ever seen when he was bragging, and he started his tale.

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Open Locks (Shard-verse)

CW – mentions of ableism towards amputees, mentions of war and injuries from it, abusive personality (it’s Wild Streak…). Word count: 569, rated G

Andre ruminates on Wild Streak’s one friend.

The boss doesn’t have a lot of friends. It’s his own fault, you know – he’s self-centered, impulsive, and quick-tempered. Me and Charles are the only help he’s been able to keep, and honestly some days I don’t know why we stay. Daisy adores him, of course, but he’ll do anything for her. Everyone else in the community? They respect him, fear him, admire him, but don’t like him.

Except Magpie. I don’t know when they met – she’s about me and Charles’ age, younger than Wild Streak. But she can make her smart-ass remarks to him and he’ll smile. I mean, she’s careful, but not terribly so, not walking on eggshells careful the way people like Gimmick are, or the super-respectful way the way gang leaders are when they hire him. And he looks forward to spending time with her. We don’t need to remind him about their get-togethers, mostly, or gather up his stuff for him. And she trusts him – I’ve talk to other goons and nobody else knows that she lives in a big penthouse or that she’s loaded.

Maybe it’s that the boss doesn’t care. He doesn’t even glance at her swanky place or expensive decor. And she’s nice when she comes over – our place is alright, but it’s got scars from Wild Streak’s tantrums and most of our stuff is second or third hand. Charles and I do our best to keep it nice, but we don’t bother with a bunch of decorations that are just gonna get broke.

He doesn’t care about her legs either. She’s too young to have been in the War, but she’s missing both legs. Missing parts and other problems are common enough, but there’s always the people that tend to still treat disabled people a little different. The boss doesn’t care. And she’s never said anything about his eye or skin. He doesn’t try to scare or creep her out either, doesn’t do his usual power plays.

The only thing Magpie and Wild Streak care about is locks – everything from tiny little padlocks to great big safes. Picking them, hacking them, exploits, work arounds, and, if necessary, breaking them. And they’ll compete with each other – and if you know Wild Streak, you know he hates losing. But with Magpie, he’ll just laugh and have her show her or make another bet or whatever. They trade stories, without the type of oneupmanship you see with big shots. He’s even given her things – he’ll make his own picks or turning tools and it’s one of the few times he’ll sit still and work hard on something. About the only other time is when he’s taking care of his clothes. And if he makes something new, he’ll give her one to try out. She does the same, but she seems to buy a lot more of hers.

They sit and race to get through a pile of locks or one of them will have something that just came out or that is rare or especially hard to get open. The boss can practically whisper at one to get it open some days and other days struggle with it for half an hour, but Magpie is consistent. Fast, with those nimble strong fingers of hers.

I don’t know how they met or if there’s anything to their relationship but locks, but damn I’m glad the boss has a friend.

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Saudade (Shard-verse)

Note: Swordcat is another sorta-multiple character in the Shard-verse. The body really is Leon Smith’s, but it was transformed when he picked up the sword, which has a personality that lives in his head and sometimes steers the body around, because swords don’t have hands. Stomlin Ward keeps the sword in the freezers because then Leon can be a calm, somewhat dim, cat. (Relevant vignette/post)

I’m incredibly proud that I managed to get this down to a perfect drabble. CN for implied genocide of humanity and of an alien race, freezing, burning, specieism

Saudade (Portuguese): The feeling of longing for something or someone that you love and which is lost.

Leon dreamt of memories not his own.

Leon wasn’t like its lords before (how long ago? how- its thoughts skittered and it shuddered in the ice). Leon was grey compared to the lords’ passion. That didn’t matter. Glory would be restored, shining cities and green forests. It would be carried again by lords with thundering voices and soft wise words and dazzling eyes matching its own. And then no more coldness, no more loneliness, no more wrong-smelling air – flat, oily like enemies of old – no more furless parodies of people.

No more memories of burning and cold, cold, cold.

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Connection (Shard-verse: Alchemy)

CN: mention of hunting / implied animal death. As always if I miss something, please let me know so I can add it.

Word count: 405, Rating: G. Crossposted to the Rainbowfic community on Dreamwidth

Ostanes and Iosis are from the novel that I have some rough draft chapters up for (you can find them in the Story Index). Basically all you need it know is that Ostanes split himself into two people using alchemy so he could do his great work. Basically, they’re multiple and headmates, but in-story they wouldn’t fit the definition. Ostanes can’t use Iosis’ name and tends to refer them as one person most of the time.

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Two Times Delia Learned About Gender

This is part of a longer piece (6 times Delia learned about gender, and one time she didn’t), but the other bits mostly kinda suck right now, so I gotta rewrite them. This does reference those a bit, but uhhh, you’re gonna have to guess from context, I guess.

CN: mention of snakes in a metaphor, gender feels, mild misgendering-ish. Yes, this is a happy piece. Reminder, Delia is Zanchese-Anitian, which is pretty much equivalent to Chinese-American, and speaks Ie, which is a conlang of mine (that I need to work on more…). Please let me know if I screwed up. Nathan is her husband.

There’s some more notes at the bottom.

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Let’s talk about Swordcat

(TW: mental institution / prison setting, mild threats, cold)

As a reminder: you can request to find out more about the world of the White Knight! Check out this post for topics.

This guy
This guy

Swordcat, aka Leon Smith (the mostly human part) / Lenxoli (the part associated with the sword, which wants to destroy all humans) (See this post for details – tw for ableist language)

 

So they found out that keeping the sword in the freezer helped out Leon one day, during the coldest winter Shard City had had in decades, when the heating system in Stomlin Ward (the special security ward of Stow Prison) broke down, completely.

A little before the normal free time they herded all the prisoners that weren’t horrible security risks into the break room. There were extra blankets and electric heaters. Swordcat was usually found without a shirt [1. Which totally isn’t author appeal / fan service, I swear], but today was covered up, while most of the other inmates were wrapped up in blankets (except Wild Rush, who didn’t appear to notice temperature changes of any sort).

The biggest and baddest claimed spaces in front of heaters, pulling chairs and sofas closer. Wild Rush claimed a couch and heater and curled up next to Daisy. Swordcat dropped a blanket to the floor in front of a heater, growling slightly when another inmate gave him a dirty look, and curled up on the the blanket, his tail covering his nose.

Pretty soon, people were getting cozier, forming clumps of those that could get along.

Magpie sat down next to Swordcat, scratching his shoulders. When that had no negative affect, she curled up next to him. Others joined them. Daisy pulled Wild Rush over, and he sat warming what would have been her cold side.

Finally Techrat was the only one left, sitting on a couch near a heater, with his blankets carefully positioned to not aggravate his phobia of being restrained, and bearing a look that said clearly “Do not touch me. I will turn you inside out. I have the technology” as his teeth chattered. He apparently decided that being close to others was less offensive than freezing and sat between Daisy and Gimmick who both scooted over enough that he was only barely being touched.

It was when the heating was fixed and the store room where the sword was kept rose above freezing, that Swordcat returned to what they had thought was his normal, growly, threatening self, in contrast to the purring snoozing Leon they had found as they checked the break room (It was inhumane to not let the inmates be warm – and there was nowhere they could have been shipped off to – but it would be just carelessness to not check for trading of contraband while they were all so close).

It took only a few experiments to confirm it, and from then on the sword was stored in the kitchen’s deep freezer. While Lenxoli could still be talked to (for those doctors that wanted to risk it), it was much easier for Leon to shut it out.

 

(Note to self – each cell has a window on the other side of the bars made of nearly unbreakable plastic that can be opened as the inmate prefers)

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