Tag: rainbowfic prompts

Swordcat attacking

An anthro catman leaping off an abandoned wooden bridge toward the camera. He's snarling and slashing toward the camera. He's wearing just pants

I really need to model up his sword and a full version of his costume.

Rainbowlist prompts: Fade to Grey 10. Malison; Kohl 7. lipliner; styles: illustration, novelty beads (see image below), folk art (it’s in Daz3d); supplies: seed beads, beading wire ( https://www.vogue.com/photovogue/photos/best/gallery#5118846 ), parchment (what do you mean I haven’t done anything for Shard-verse since 2023?)

Bingo board prompts: Untranslateable Words January 2019, L’appel du vide (French): Literally translated to “the call of the void”; contextually used to describe the instinctive urge to jump from high places. Body Parts July 2022: body hair

Cross-stitched text: there are approximately 1,013,900 words in the English language, but I could never string any of them together to explain how much I want to hit you in the face with a chair.

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The Mercy of Shadows (writing)

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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Bonfire Hearts and Fool Waters (Shard-verse)

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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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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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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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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