Category: Writes…

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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Great-Uncle Bubba and the Magic Shop (fiction)

One of the ways Ursula Vernon deals with trolls on twitter is telling stories about her (fictional) Uncle Sven. (so far as I know these aren’t collected anywhere, which is a shame). I decided to follow her example, and this is the story that resulted.

While I used some bits of my actual family as very vague inspiration, everyone and everything in this story is fictional and probably wildly inaccurate to the supposed time period, whatever that is.

(CW: references to period racism – in that I say it exists and that people would use words that decent people don’t use these days, poverty, malnutrition, drunkenness, references to pre-antibiotics tuberculosis, illiteracy, corporal punishment at school)


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The White Knight #1 – Devotion

Content warnings for talk of police corruption, references to military service, chronic illness, hospitals, shooting (nothing graphic), blood and medical issues, prejudice against fictional people, talk of gangs, non-graphic violence, mentions of drug and alcohol addiction, misgendering (in the context of someone assuming the gender where it’s not known), mention of spiders and rats, smoking, and swearing.

Many thanks to LB Lee and KristyCat for sensitivity and beta-reading. Any mistakes are my own.

Please let me know if you see any typos or other mistakes. Thanks.


Shard City doesn’t love anybody, but I can’t help loving it. It has its bright spots but unless you stay in those small oases it turns into a very ugly place at night, The cops hardly try anymore – too many crimes, too many gangs. It’s funny how you get used to it. Used to watching out for the sun setting, for the alleys like open mouths, for the people with gleaming eyes and hidden weapons. I’m sick of it. And I mean to do something about it.

My name is Delia Tyelu. I’m the White Knight.

 

* * *

A family photo - a tall white, blond man in doing bunny ears to a shorter, chubbier white, blonde man, who is holding the hand of a short Asian woman. She has her arm around her teenage kid who has his arm around her shoulders.
Left to right: Leonard Burton, Nathan Burton, Delia Tyelu, and Joel Tyelu-Burton. Picture taken on Joel’s 19th birthday.

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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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Snippet – Wild Rush does not react in a healthy way

TW: abuse, assault, threats, threatening with knife, blood, victim blaming

(I’ve decided Charles’ pronouns are ne / nem / neir / neirself)

Wild Rush had the habit of threatening / yelling at / blaming / etc Charles and Andre before Daisy came along.

They’d been expecting it. The boss was predictable about a few things at least. And when they heard his office door slam against the wall, they glanced at each other and dropped their mugs in the sink (less chance of them getting broken that way – they had to replace dishes too often already).

Now Wild Rush has Charles pinned down against the table, one of his knives that always seemed to appear from nowhere pressed against the back of neir neck. It was kind of amazing that the boss could so easily take down someone as big as Charles. Mostly terrifying, but kind of amazing.

“You told me it was guaranteed,” Wild Rush growled.

Andrew watched the sweat trickle down Charles’ neck. “Practically guaranteed. How was I supposed to know that Tectrix would decide he wanted it?”

Charles thought it was funny that of all the things that gave Andre panic attacks, getting chewed out wasn’t one of them. And he’d been the one with a knife against his throat or a gun against his chest plenty of times. Ne wasn’t laughing right now, of course. Ne’d gone pale – you’d think they’d get used to it – and ne was trying to breathe as little as possible.

“You’re supposed to find out these things. What am I paying you for?”

The knife twitched. “Gimmick said-”

“What are you doing?” Daisy shrieked. She pulled Wild Rush off.

He blinked at her. “I- they- we were just talking.” He sounded way too reasonable for someone with a bloody knife dangling from his fingers.

Andre pressed a clean washcloth against Charles’ neck as ne sat up. “It’s not bad,” he whispered.

“You were not!” Daisy said, her voice only slightly less high. “Why would you do that?!”

“They screwed up.”

She made a pained sound and pushed past him to them.

“It’s fine,” Charles said. “I’m fine.”

“No, it’s not!” she said. Andre glanced at the boss. He’d expected him to be pissed, but he just looked confused.

Wild Rush put a hand on her arm. “Daisy…”

“Don’t touch me!” And she fled. Wild Rush glanced at them, still puzzled, and went after her. Andre heard a door slam.

~~~~~

Andre scowled as he heard the door unlock. He’d just finished bandaging Charles’ neck – it really wasn’t that bad, hardly worse than a papercut, but it’d bled a lot – and the andrenline surge was dying down.

The boss perched on the chest at the end of the bed, bent all in angles. “Why is she upset?”

“We’re not exactly thrilled either,” Charles said coldly. Andre squeezed neir hand warningly.

“So what? Why is she upset?”

“She likes us,” Andre said.

Wild Rush’s brow furrowed further. “I like you too. So?”

“Generally people don’t assault people they like,” Andre said, suddenly tired.

“If you hadn’t fucked up-”

“Yeah, we know that,” Charles said. “She doesn’t. She hasn’t been here that long, remember?”

He pursed his lips, then said, “She won’t talk to me.”

“She probably needs to calm down,” ne said.

“From what? I didn’t do anything to her!”

“Didn’t her dad used to hit her?”

“Yeah, but…” He glanced away, his eyes crinkling as he thought. “I won’t let anything hurt her. I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“You’re missing the point,” Andre said.

“She knows I wouldn’t hurt her.” He looked back at them. “Doesn’t she?”

“I don’t think that’s the point. She probably doesn’t like to see her friends get hurt either. Most people don’t.”

“And there’s a difference between knowing something and, y’know, feeling it,” Charles said.

“But you fucked up,” Wild Rush said.

“Yeah, we know,” Andre snapped. “You don’t have to threaten us. We know.”

Wild Rush frowned, apparently still baffled. “Okay. Talk to her, okay?”

That was the last time he pulled a weapon on one of them.

I don’t think Wild Rush fits any specific diagnosis. (I’m not doing any research for him at least). He considers Charles and Andre his closest friends and he’d be upset if they got injured or killed, but only to the extent of how someone would be if their favorite shoes got ruined. ‘Well, shit, how am I going find some that good again?’ But he’d be wrecked if Daisy got killed.


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White Knight notes for later

This is mostly a note to myself and lots of rambling.

I want to revamp my character diversity – I have a huge number of characters, but there are a lot of diversity categories not represented or poorly represented (like, there are a lot of Asian characters, but very few black people…) (I don’t know what the breakdown of ethnicities actually is, that’s just an example). My plan is to basically use random numbers to fix this (I already use a random generator to determine relative weights, heights, and some other things).

Percentages I’m going to use: (I’m intentionally inflating numbers to increase representation)

  • Intersex: 1%
  • Transgender (binary): 4%
  • Non-binary: 15% (I truly believe that a lot more people would be non-binary if it was more widely known and accepted – which it is in my story) (I’ve decided Delia is a demi-girl, and one of Wild Rush’s henchmen is going to be non-binary)
  • Neurodivergent: ???
  • Invisibly disabled: ???
  • Disabled: ???
  • Race categories… (gonna get the statistics for the US and round up)
  • I’m not sure what else?

Plan for the generator:

Have list of categories, with what numbers mean the character fits in that category. For example, race/ethnicity* could be White, Native American, Black, South Asian, Pacific Islander, Middle Eastern, East Asian, etc, and by having a list people could easily be more than one ethnicity.

Like any generator, results will probably be tweaked by hand.

* obviously for this, I’d use the words that fit my actual map, since there isn’t a one-to-one correspondence between my fictional world and the real world.

Diverse characters I know I have:

  • Lt. Aurita – cop, black / Pacific Islander,  Caling, an ethnic group that whose average height is under 4 feet Pygmy (I can’t tell from googling if this is an offensive term or if there’s alternatives – she’s not a little person, because she doesn’t have dwarfism, she’s ethnically a Pygmy) (Seriously, if I’m screwing up here, let me know). (Edited 4-27-14)
  • Mask – Middle Eastern, disabled (I need some Middle Eastern characters that aren’t criminals – don’t judge me for that, the majority of my characters are criminals.)
  • Delia Troy Burton – Asian, demi-girl
  • Joel Burton (Delia’s son) – Asian, disabled (fictional disease similar to Parkison’s)
  • Emily – Latina, Selective Mutism (I’m not sure if that’s neurodivergent, disabled, or both…)
  • Charles – (Wild Rush’s henchman) gay, non-binary
  • Andre – (Wild Rush’s henchman) gay
  • RV – black
  • (Since Ostanes is set in the same universe, I can count Iosis & Ostanes and their mom for Asian, and Dr. Maurell for asexual and Latino) (basically I already diversitied-up that story, so I’m not worrying about it)
  • (I really need some more asexual characters)
  • (I swear there’s more, I just can’t think of them right now)

Characters that I’m not counting as diverse:

  • Swordcat – multiple, through alien intervention (I need some naturally multiple people)
  • Wild Rush – neurodivergent, mostly likely diagnosis is sociopath (it’s more complicated than that and I don’t want to try to count him as representation of anybody because he’s a really terrible person)
  • Tectrix (I think that’s what I’m going to call him) – Middle Eastern (although that might change. He’s currently problematic and I’m trying to figure out how much of that is stuff I need to change about him and how much can be fixed by having other characters as counterweight) (He’s really just kind of a horrible person and I might just make him white, because making white people horrible doesn’t say anything bad about white people.)

I swear I almost should just make all the really horrible people white, because I’m totally racist against my own race. (That’s mostly sarcasm). (Anyone who non-ironically mentions ‘reverse racism’ will get laughed at and banned. Not kidding.)


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CL logo

Where my stories come from

I generally prefer to call my stories that, instead of writing, because I don’t write the majority of them down, and even the ones that I decide I should, usually don’t get written immediately. (For example: my vampire mystery novel that might have to end up being a trilogy or getting a lot of stuff cut out.)

All my stories start as daydreams, generally when I’m laying in bed, but I’ve started stuff to keep me from falling asleep in class, when I was in the car, visiting family for the holidays, etc, whenever I have mental energy that isn’t getting used (which is often…). Most of the stories start with me using the names and characters of whatever I’m currently obsessing with. The characters will get stretched and molded to fit wherever my mind roams. I also have character types of my own creation that show up under a variety of names.

A lot of my imaginings are blatant Mary Sues, interacting with my favorite characters. My most current one, who I’ve been using in more or less the same form since I graduated high school (so thirteen years now) is a fire mage who can do anything she can imagine in fire terms, including shape changing and traveling between worlds and into stories. She beats up demons, monsters, and the occasional god. And runs a school for other superheroes, including recruiting a young version of the Phantom of the Opera. Like I said, blatant Mary Sue. Incredibly blatant. Which is why I’ve completely discarded the notion of ever recording those stories (just getting rid of the copyright infringements would… well, basically remove most of it, honestly, and it’s too much of a massive crossover for me to want to do it as fanwork). I’m trying to replace her with another mental centerpiece but I haven’t come up with a story for her yet (and she’ll probably end up horrendously overpowered as well. It’s a recurring problem.)

I lot of it, I’ll just repeat the same stuff over and over. The fire mage and her friends have been working as singers at the Iceberg Lounge for like three years now, with various misadventures including demons showing up to fight Erik, helping Batman, and mostly just lots of snark and banter. Before that she was redoing the file room in Arkham and occasionally getting dragged into doing security work. Yes, it’s all very very self-indulgent.

But some of the smaller stories, the non-epic length ones and the one-shots, end up pretty good. And I try to write them down. The problem becomes when it’s a series of adventures with no specific end. And then I don’t know where the plot is going and it becomes a mess. I have two of those novels in process.

A lot of them I can pick out what influenced them. Some of them I can’t, aside from liking certain things (why do I like whump? No idea, but I sure do. I only just learned there was a specific term for it, for pete’s sake.) And it’s usually a giant mix of things (I have one – that’ll post once I get it edited a bit – that has an character inspired by Alpert, one of LB Lee’s characters, some of the set-up inspired by a Sherlock fic, and most of it just my own really messed up brain.)


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