#~short story

[thethreefaes]

Healing Forest and Future Hope

Short story for @bigidiotenergytm

The pendants the fae had given her Cara and his baby had worked just as intended. Though she wished it hadn’t been needed. The moment the magic in the pendants sensed danger that could kill the wearer they were brought back to the isle.

Lyra had been weaving when the magic surged and the two bodies appeared. Odysseus, her Cara, was bloodied and covered in scars. His clothes looked burned and tattered. And Asty, last she’d seen him he was just a babe. Now four, crying and clinging to his unconscious father.

Lyra yelled for her sisters as she ran to the two. Scooping up the child when she fell to her knees besides Odysseus. Her magic swirled around them in panic. Heal. She had to heal them. She didn’t know what was wrong. She didn’t know what needed to be healed but she had to do something!

That’s how Rose and Kiara found her. Cradling Asty in one arm. Humming and rocking him gently. Her other hand on Ody’s chest. Green and white magic flowing from her and radiating into her family.

————-

It took time but they got Ody and Asty tucked into Lyra’s nest. The small hut was the warmest and coziest and Lyra tended to them. Odysseus swaying between consciousness and sleep. Asty crying as he told the faes what he remembered.

It took all three to convince the child that his father was not bad. That no matter what the other solders said, his father was a good man.

That night, Lyra stayed awake to watch over them. Kiara returning to the Veil to find more healing items. And Rose perched in a tree above Lyra and her nest. Keeping watch even as the forest fae fell asleep in the doorway.

—————

Days passed as Odysseus rested and slowly gained his strength. Asty, however, gained his energy back much faster. The little child curious and adventurous.

“You’re just like your father, Aodhán!” Lyra laughed. Aodhán. Asty’s true and fae name. Lyra had given it to him when they first met. Odysseus letting her hold the baby as he told her of his god’s prophesy. But this child was no longer the baby of that prophesy. With a fae name he now held his own fate. When Lyra whispered his new name into his ear, she’d given him his life back.

“Higher! Higher!” Asty shouted. Rose was flying with the child in her arms. Twirling and diving. Causing him to squeal in delight. Lyra following below just in case. Not that she expected Rose to drop their child. But the younger worried.

“Alright! Ready for the best part!” Maybe Lyra thought too soon. Because sure enough Rose had flown up higher and let Asty go. The little one free falling until Lyra snatched him.

“Rose!!” Lyra’s feathers were ruffled but their child only laughed.

“Again!”

“Absolutely not!” Lyra huffed. Landing on the soft ground. Asty pouted and looked at his aunt with big eyes.

“Pwease?” Oh how he knew to pull at her heart. But Lyra remained firm.

“Nope. We are taking a break from flying lessons.” Lyra set him on the ground and Rose landed besides them.

“Yeah. How about some hunting lessons instead?” Lyra looked at Rose in horror. “I’m kiddin, little flower. Stars.”

The three headed back towards the hut. Kiara had been checking on their injured friend. He was more awake but still unable to move. Asty ran up to the ice fae and hugged her leg. Her black feather rattling happily even as she kept a straight face.

“Have fun, Aodhán?” She pat his head but the child held his arms up to her.

“Up! Up!” He bounced and with a sigh, the eldest fae gave in. Picking him up and resting him on her hip.

“Admit it, Kia. He’s got you wrapped around his finger. Melting that ice heart.” Rose teased. Lyra giggling softly.

“Hush now. Lyra, your Cara is awake. His wounds mostly healed. His strength is returning slowly.” Lyra nodded. Relief flooding through her. Kiara passed Asty to her and Lyra nuzzled into the messy hair.

“How about we make a flower crown and necklace for your Athair? I bet that will help him feel better too.” Settling amongst the flowers, Lyra sat with Asty in her lap. Teaching him how to weave the flowers together.

Kiara sat besides them. Using her magic she created a small harp. Playing a slow and lulling tune. Rose grinned and laid on her back amongst the flowers. Using her own magic to call forth a little wind instrument. Blowing in the flute like instrument and following Kiara’s lead.

Lyra smiled recognizing the music. Joining in with her voice. Singing as she and Asty weaved. Casting a glance at her nest she was sure she could see bright eyes watching from the nest.

[faerowanaine]

Rowan was learning fast that an apartment was not for him. He thought moving and exploring the human world would be fun! He’d spent some time in it growing up as his father had been quite enthralled with manipulating human lives and businesses.

The young fae scrunched his nose as memories of his father’s past time came to him. Yeah humans were fun to mess with but his dad had been cruel. Rowan just wanted to learn more about them. And that meant living like one.

… which sucked. The city sucked. The noise sucked. The metal and glass buildings sucked. He wanted a little house in the forest with his own garden like Lyra! But he also didn’t have human money. So he’d have to wait on that dream.

Laying in his hammock, he looked out the window. A leg hanging off it to kick and rock him lightly. The apartment was pretty empty. Lyra would scold him if she saw. Say something about him surrounding himself with what he likes. But if he wanted that he’d just chill at her place!

This wasn’t home. This was just a stepping off point as he figured out his next move.

[chunkysoup22]

[thestuffedalligator]

“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”

The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and the kind of question she tried to avoid.

Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.

“You a cop?”

The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”

A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.

Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”

A nod.

“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”

A nod.

“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”

A tiny, miserable nod.

“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’

“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”

Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.

The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.

“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”

The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.

“I can work with that,” said the witch.

[jordanbolton]

“The Driver” by Jordan Bolton

My first book ‘Blue Sky Through the Window of a Moving Car’ is out now! Order it here - https://smarturl.it/BlueSky

[mimimar]

the woman who holds the moon

prints available here. my cover for this month's issue of baffling magazine.

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Viago, when playing as Rook De Riva: you IDIOT you were my favorite fledgling why did you have to make a mess of this now I have to jump through all these convoluted hoops to keep you safe. Teia stop telling Rook how much I missed them it's not funny they could have DIED. also your room is exactly the way you left it please come home

Strife, when playing as Rook Aldwir: Why hasn't this weird bug i kicked out of our camp ages ago died yet :|

[microsff]

The patron

The alien came to the library again, shortly before closing time, and quickly found a book.

"May this entity borrow The Complete History of Knitting?"

They always return the book they borrow after five minutes, but the ritual of checking it out seems important to them. 

"Of course. Did you bring your card?"

I looked them up, after the first time I saw them for real. They first registered with us over ninety years ago. The senior librarian who first told me about them said I shouldn't stare, or pry.

"Whatever else they are, they are a patron, and should be treated as such," she said. "If they seek knowledge, it is our duty to help them find it."

There isn't an ancient and secret code of librarians, but that is definitely a core part of it. If such a code existed.

I scan the card and the book. "There you go," I say and hand them over. "Please return it within two weeks."

They tilt their head. "This entity will honour your terms."

"Oh! That reminds me, we have updated the terms since your last visit." I hand them the pamphlet we got from the printers last week. "It's mostly about internet usage, but I'll need you to read them and agree."

They study the pamphlet.

"These are terms this entity can abide by." They pause. "Is there no requirement to keep your existence secret?"

"Of course not," I say, "we always welcome new patrons."

They stand silent, long enough for me to realise the implications of what I have just said. 

"This entity had made an assumption, based on prior experiences on countless worlds, where knowledge is always closely guarded and costly to obtain" they say at last. "You will provide knowledge for free to all who seek it?"

In my mind, I weigh humanity's ignorance of those countless worlds of alien civilisations against the code.

"Yes," I say, "this is a library."

[lizardho]

When I came out, I was SO scared I was gonna get disowned. I wrote a letter to my parents, sent it to their emails, put a physical copy on the counter, and left the house for a few hours to give them time. In that time I tried coffee for the first time, which was a dreadful idea, and got all jittery. I kept waiting for a text or something but nothing happened.

After a few hours, I didn’t hear back from them so I went home. My parents were home and had stacked a bunch of groceries on top of the letter without opening it. They said “hi” and I said “hi” and went down stairs to the basement. I held my dog and panicked about what to do. My sister, who knew that I had written them a letter of great importance, told me they hadn’t read it yet. She also told me she could ask them to do so. I consented to this and stayed in the basement. A few minutes later my dad knocked on the door and poked his soft smooth little nerd head in and said “hey buddy” and I started crying so hard I almost vomited. He came over and gave me a BIG hug and said that it was gonna be OK, he was OK with this, he knew it must have been hard but he was here for me. He told me he and my mom had already talked years before they had me about how if they had to pick between their faith and their child they’d pick their child. It was a very sweet moment. I came out to my mom later that evening and we were both bawling the whole time.

The day after I came out to my parents, I came out to my brother @inbabylontheywept at a Mexican restaurant and he took it like a champ. That evening my mom took me for a walk and looked almost angry - she said she wanted to make sure that I didn’t use being a woman as an excuse to not go to grad school. I told her I wouldn’t and she instantly looked relieved and happier.

My dad, on the other hand, seemed to struggle with it. He kept asking me if I had a boyfriend, and I told him I did not. He kept asking me if I wanted to go clothes shopping with him and I did not. He kept asking me if I would let him go to some of my shows, and I had NO idea what he was talking about.

Finally, 6 months after coming out, of awkward misgendering and questions that didn’t make sense from my dad, he excitedly pokes his soft smooth little nerd head into my bedroom again and says “I found a movie about Your People.” My people. I was absolutely bewildered, but he was so excited and I knew he had been trying SO hard so I watched it with him. It was The Birdcage, and it was amazing. It also was revelatory in that I finally realized why my initially-supportive father seemed to be having such a hard time with my pronouns and stuff - he didn’t know what the difference between trans and doing drag was. After the movie he again asked if I would invite him to one of my shows, and I said, “Hey dad, you know how about half the world is women?” And he said “yeah,” and I said “Well, see, I’m on that half now. I’m not doing drag.” And it was like a switch flipped in his brain. He was like “omg that’s so easy? I was so confused about what to call you when?”

Anyway, my parents are charming and my family has been so kind and patient with me, I like sharing the stories of my little wins with them.

[thethreefaes]

Lyra wrapped her shall around her as she stepped out of the house. It was late but she couldn’t sleep. Stepping into the cool grass she let the night air wash over her.

The half fae let her feet take her to the edge of the forest. Under the trees she found the wooden bench and sat down. She could hear the river in the distance, hear the wind rustling the leaves. It was enough to relax her body but not her mind.

A new rustling on the ground caught her attention. A jet black rabbit hopping out from the bushes. Lyra raised a brow as it looked at her with golden eyes.

“Ello there. You’ll not fool me, púca. Rabbits aren’t out at this time of night.” She gave the creature a smile as it stomped its foot before disappearing into the bushes. Lyra only laughed before it was cut off.

The púca returned. But this time as a wolf. Black as the night fur and eyes glowing gold. Lyra offered another smile.

“M-much better. More believable if you were to trick someone.” The púca stalked closer but Lyra remained seated. Púcas weren’t inherently violent creatures. Usually just tricksters. So she waited.

“The night is not a safe place for one such as you.” It spoke. The wolf’s jaws curling into what could be called a grin. “So many would want your blood.”

“Including you?” She tilted her head. “What would you gain from that? It doesn’t sound entertaining.” Púca loved mischief and chaos. The wolf/púca sat at her feet.

“Not I. Your blood means nothing to me. But others come sniffing around. Waiting. Watching.” A growl rumble in its chest. “They scare away my victims and ruin my tricks.”

“Your territory in near mine? You’ve been watching over me?” Lyra carefully ran a hand over the black fur. The púca let out a pleased hum.

“It has been fun messing with the other beings. New challenges.”

[faerowanaine]

~open starter~

Okay, this was new. Rowan had experience with the dullahan back in his home land but this one was different. It should be hunting. Remaining in the forest and finding its next target.

But it had crossed into his territory and… hadn’t left. The creature was trotting down the street! In the city?! Why was it here? Rowan had to figure it out.

Leaving the apartment, Rowan made his way down the dark street. There were still people and cars out. Everything seemed normal. Except for the dark horse with the headless rider walking down the road.

No one saw it. No one reacted to it. Rowan followed. No name had been said. Why was it here?! It was driving the young fae crazy!

[bastardlybonkers]

i feel like not enough ppl are factoring in the cultural clash between laios and shuro and the many micro agressions shuro faced while being in their group. literally the name 'shuro' in itself is one

his name is toshiro 😭 lets also not forget that he has his own communication issues, in the opposite way that laios does- thats literally a factor in their argument, that his envy for laios's ability to express himself sincerely manifested as part of his distaste for him.

ig all this to say like, was their fight heart wrenching, especially when reading laios as autistic? absolutely. anybody whos ever been in laios's position knows how much it hurts to realize someone you thought was your friend doesnt actually like having you around, especially when they didnt tell you and you had no way of knowing due to not understanding their cues. but im begging yall to step back and see the nuance of this situation cause im gonna be real a lot of you are kinda just brushing over it acting like everything is toshiros fault and that hes a terrible person when in reality hes an average guy who really, really clashed with laios and it led to a very long misunderstanding due to their supremely opposite methods of communication. even laios and toshiro, after letting everything out in their fight, were able to come to an understanding and start a foundation for an actual friendship built on better communication

ok yknow what Edit: i shouldve made it even more explicit at the end of this post, i hadnt thought i would need to since i started the post with this, but i think a few too many people are missing my point so i just wanna clarify. i shouldnt have said 'really clashed' and left it at that because yeah they did, but it wasnt just their opposite methods of communication, it is also very much that toshiro was experiencing microaggressions via laios. it may have been unintentional on laios's part, but it still happened and wore him down, made it harder for him to communicate on top of both the more subtle social cues that he was raised with and his own communication difficulties. i also want to say that the fandom reaction to toshiro and the complete ignorance of this point is also racist tbh or at the very least ignorant. i understand that the anime did not cover this panel, and neither did the manga, as this was an omake, but im gonna be real with you guys. there are enough context clues within the story to clue you into this. if you didnt pick up on it thats ok, but i think this is a good lesson in picking up subtext in the stories that youre watching and/or reading. kui shouldnt have to explicitly say 'by the way laios was racist to toshiro' for this point to be understood, and at the very least, when the author portrays a character in a sympathetic light (as kui clearly does) it should make you question Why they are doing so and what makes them sympathetic, rather than youre immediate and only reaction to be 'well i hated what this guy did/said so i hate them and they suck'. idk exactly how to finish this, just. idk. question your biases and gut reactions to things you see in media and stories, and think about whether or not theres subtext that youre missing.

[thestuffedalligator]

"Did you ever have an imaginary friend?"

The beer can was thoughtfully swirled. "No," she said eventually. "I tried, though. It just - it didn't work."

The wind blew over the stoop, cool and smelling of rain.

"'Didn't work?'"

"I wanted it to work, it - I was six, and I was in my dad's truck, and we were in the Wal-Mart parking lot at night - I don't remember why - and I thought, 'I should make an imaginary friend,' so I looked through the window and-"

She frowned. "Fuck. This sounds like a joke, but I made a Vaporeon. It was just a fully formed, perfect Vaporeon in a parking lot of a Wal-Mart. And I was so happy and I opened the door to make it jump in so I could take it home with me.

"But there was something - wrong with it. I'd made it perfectly, but I forgot to make it alive. It just sat and stared and I begged it to jump in the truck with me before my dad drove off, and it sat and stared, and we drove off and I was so sad and confused and - disappointed."

She wiggled the tab of the can. "It's still there," she said quietly. "I drive past that parking lot sometimes, and that same Vaporeon is still sitting in that spot. I've seen that parking lot get full to the tits in the middle of the holidays, I have never, not even once, seen someone park in the spot it's sitting in."

A car drove by. After a moment the frogs in the ditch started to chirp again.

She tipped her head back and downed the rest of the beer. "Anyways, that's what I think god's deal is," she said.

[bearsockz]

Part one