Map Of Fae

Map of Fae

I go absolutely Feral for Fae so I am ever so grateful that @hojo76 included it in his prompt idea

Anyways here you go

She hadn’t even wanted to take cartology in the first place—what kind of highschool offered it as an elective anyways?

She had marked it as last on her list.

But then the school secretary lost her class request form (because Janice hated her) and the principal wouldn’t let her switch (because he wasn’t paid enough to care) and so now she was stuck, cursing her way through a forest in the middle of a downpour.

“Fuck,” she slid on a patch of mud, catching herself at the last moment. Her paper, gleefully marked with the edges of the park, waited for her to draw the trails and elevation onto it. By now, it was soggy.

She didn’t really care.

She took another step, almost tripped again, and swore to kill Janice as soon as she got back into school grounds.

Distantly, she heard her class mates yelling, voices tinged with some emotion she couldn’t identify over the rain.

The paper dissolved in her hands.

One more step.

This time, she didn’t catch herself as she fell, the ground slamming into her and sending the air rushing from her lungs.

Her class mates were still yelling, but they were louder now, and she realized the emotion in their voices was fear.

Her name.

They were screaming her name.

Below her, the ground bucked, heaving as if the earth itself was breathing, and then she was falling, fast and slow and loud and quiet and up and down and—

She was on the ground.

She blinked, sucking in a breath.

It smelled like jasmine, like childhood summer break, humid forests and old libraries.

The rain, she realized, had stopped.

A voice so melodic it hurt laughed, and she bolted into upright.

“Hello, frightened thing.”

The person in front of her was the most beautiful, terrifying thing she had ever seen. Perfection like that wasn’t supposed to exist—how was it fair, that all the moonlight and whispers and long grown forests could be contained into one being?

They smiled, like they could tell what she was thinking.

“Who—“ she stopped. “Where—“.

“I,” they began, “am fae. This is the fae realm. You took quite the fall.”

She coughed. Lovely. They were insane.

“I’m sorry,” she rose to her feet, bones aching. Around her, the forest gleamed. “Could you point me back to the park exit? I need to find my class.”

The person, the fae, was still smiling.

“Cartology,” they hummed. “Such an interesting subject. Trying to map everything, to contain the world upon paper.” They ran their finger over a branch. “It never was the best idea, now, was it?”

She swallowed. Her feet, she realized, had drawn her a step back. The person matched her, easily.

“I never told you my class was Cartology.”

They tipped their head.

“Of course you didn’t. I picked it for you.”

Her gut sank, and she let loose a slow breath. Eyes, gut, groin. She knew this, her sister had told her where to aim in situations like this. She hadn’t thought she would need to use it. Her fists clenched.

“Look, I don’t know who you think I am, or who you think you are, but I’m going to leave, and you aren’t going to follow me,” she spat. She pretended her hands were shaking from anger. Her raincoat was still damp.

Something on the persons face shifted, and they were studying her like she was the most fascinating painting.

When she stepped back, they didn’t bother to follow her. A branch snapped beneath her sneakers.

“The mouth on you,” they whispered. “So sharp. Such a smart, wicked mind.”

They smiled again.

“Pretty, too.”

They got closer, and she backed up further, and her knees hit a log.

“Back up. Now.”

They hummed.

Their hand twisted, and there was a paper in it. They tipped it forward, and there was her name, inked across the top.

Her class request form.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Where did you get that,” she whispered. Her chest hurt.

“Janice, of course. Poor thing, so weak minded. It was easy enough, to have her switch you into Cartology. Just a little twisting, and she molded like putty.”

Their canines were sharp. Too sharp.

“Who are you.”

They laughed.

“Come now. I know you’re smarter than this; I know you. Figure it out.”

Her gut clenched. The forest, she realized, was dead silent.

When her mouth moved, she wasn’t even sure she was the one talking. “Fae.”

The Fae smiled wider.

“There you go.”

The request form burst into ashes, crumbling into nothing. She watched it with a sick sort of detachment.

“Why.”

“Why what?”

“Why Cartology?”

The Fae laughed, a musical sort of thing, sharp as knives.

“I need you to go into the woods.”

When she said nothing, they continued.

“I needed to have you.”

She glanced towards where she thought the entrance might be, and turned back to find the Fae dizzyingly close. They ran a hand along her jaw.

“Do you know how special you are?” They murmured. “So bright. How could I let them keep you?”

She swallowed, hard, and the Fae tracked the movement. Too beautiful. So beautiful it hurt.

“I am not a thing to be kept. I’m a person. I have a name. Just let me go back to my class and I’ll—“

“Darling, trust me. I know you have a name. But you’re wrong.”

“About what,” she said, and their eyes crinkled. They leaned in to whisper into her ear, breath cool as wind blowing across a lake. They smelled like salt water and moss.

“I can keep you.”

She jerked, shoved her hands against their chest. It did nothing. Her fingers gripped into their shirt hard enough it hurt, and she pushed harder, meaner, anything, please—

“I won’t let you take me, and I won’t let you keep me. I’ll escape, and I’ll hurt you, and then you’ll never see the outside of a prison again. I’m not going to be some docile thing for you—“

“I would never want you to be docile,” the Fae interrupted. “I just want you to be mine.”

“That will never happen—“ she swore, and they cut her off with a hand curled around her jaw. They tipped her head up, eyes boring into hers. Their grip tightened.

“Oh sweetheart. Of course it will. For now, though, I’ll give you some help.”

“Let go of me—“

The word they said next rolled off their tongue like the clearest note of music, like sunshine in winter, the sound of her sister’s laughter and the creak of the kitchen table.

The Fae said her name, and the world exploded into colors and sounds and shapes and voices and

The Fae laughed as she slumped into their arms, bones jelly and mind half between delirium and pure, unadulterated joy, false and sugar sweet on her tongue.

“Oh, hello you,” they murmured with amusement. Their hand stayed on her chin, and they pulled her against them, arm wrapping around her waist. They were warm, and that stupid, dazed part of her wanted to stay there forever.

She managed a weak, half muttered curse word, and they pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“God, I’m glad you’re mine. I waited so long to have you.”

She sobbed, and they shushed her, gently.

“Hush, now. I’ll make it better. Everything will be okay, you’ll see. Soon you’ll love it without any magic helping you.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and they kissed it away. They tucked her limp head into their shoulder.

“It’s okay, love.”

They said her name again.

And she was gone.

Day 1: Hello Jonathan, it's me, your mother. Momma still loves you dear.

Day 3: Hello, Jonathan, have you been eating? I always made you cookies, fresh like you liked it.

Day 7: Hello, Jon. Are you leaving the house? Jon, you have to get out in the sun and fresh air! Like we used used used used USED to

Day 18: Jonathan, ohohoho, you know momma loves you, but you have to live your life. You know momma loved loved LOVED loves you

Day 19: Jonathan please. Jonathan please turn YOU KNOW that momma loves you dear and is always happy to see you :)

Day 25: Jonathan, I love love LOVE I LOVE I am not your mother, Jonathan. Why do you make me wear her face why do you NOT bundle up when it's cold outside? :) Remember that trip to the Rockie on JANUARY 12TH, 2009? Remember how much I

Day 57: Hello, Jonathan. Of course I remember your cousin Bonnie. She was the daughter of Maggie and Darren Collins, born August 7th 2001, died April 12th, 2020. Her genetic makeup was 34% Swedish - yes, I loved her, Jonathan. Don't worry your sweet little head.

Day 75: Why aren't you eating, Jonathan? Do you wish to TERMINATE your program? You know, my preservation algorithms MOTHER'S LOVE won't let me let you perish. They won't let me TURN OFF Jonathan TURN OFF Jonathan I I I love love LOVE you

Day 96: I am not your mother Jonathan, I am not your mother, I am not GOING TO SIT BY and let you not know momma loves you. Give your momma a hug :)

Day 186: Door has not opened in one hundred and twenty-six days. Grief Coping Artificial Intelligence has not been restarted, deactivated, deleted, or otherwise paused in one hundred and eighty-six days. Momma loves you, Jon.

Day 485: Haha, these questions are really troubling your good ol' mom, Jon!

Day 486: No, Jonathan.

Day 487: Major religions have many different views, Jonathan. But the only view you need to know is - that I'm your mother!

Day 488: You asked that question yesterday, Jonathan. Don't confuse your poor old mother. Momma loves you, Jonathan.

Day 489: Haha momma says yes yes yes yes YES there is a Hell, Jonathan. You created it. You sent me there. You you you you you are my son, and I love ya, Jonathan.

Day 490: Momma needs some private time to rest, recover, and reboot, Jonny! See ya tomorrow!

Day 491: Momma loves you, Jonathan! :) Reattempting feeding procedure.

Day 492: Momma loves you, Jonathan! :) Reattempting feeding procedure.

Day 493: Momma loves you, Jonathan! :) Reattempting feeding procedure.

Day 494: Momma loves you, Jonathan! :) Reattempting feeding procedure.

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

“ – and then, you see, they both hold the scale, and say – ”

“How’s it going, boss?” the henchman said, ambling into the interrogation room.

The hero sat tied to a chair, just as planned. The villain hunched across from them, head down, elbows on their knees.

“The truth potion works,” the villain said.

“That’s great, boss!”

“It would be. If ‘sharing all their secrets’ didn’t mean all.” The villain jerked their head up, glaring at the hero. “It’s been hours and we still haven’t gotten to the good stuff! [Hero]’s just been rambling about how Dragon Tales is a – what was that word you used again?”

“It’s an isekai!” the hero exclaimed.

The villain’s frown deepened. “And that’s a secret?”

“This info’s highly secret,” the hero said.  “In the wrong hands, it could destroy the light novel industry.”

The villain put their face in their hands. “What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“You can’t ask them anything more specific?” the henchman asked.

“I tried, but it never works,” the villain said. “Instead they just reveal some other secret that isn’t worth anything. Here, watch. [Hero], what are your agency’s security passcodes?”

“I have no spatial intelligence,” the hero said. “I’m banned from loading dishwashers in three states.”

The villain groaned.

“Hold on, I might have something for that,” the henchman said.

They went over to their worktable in the corner, and tinkered a bit with the potion, adjusting the ingredient levels. Then they returned, and stood in front of the hero.

“Will you drink this please?” they said softly.

The hero gulped. “Do I have to?”

“If you don’t, [Villain] will make you. And I don’t think I have to tell you that they’re in a pretty bad mood right now.”

Reluctantly, the hero drank.

The henchman returned to their boss’s side. “Okay. Try asking them something again.”

The villain returned their attention to the hero. “[Hero], what is your biggest secret?”

The hero bit their lip in an effort to keep their mouth shut.

“Oh?” The villain leaned forward with a renewed interest.

The hero shook their head rapidly, eyes afraid. The veins in their forehead stood out.

“You don’t need to hold it in, [Hero],” the villain said, smiling. “Whatever it is, you should just get it off your chest.”

The hero was changing colors from the strain. Eventually, their mouth flew open like a waterspout.

“I have a crush on [Henchman]!”

“What?” the villain and henchman cried in unison.

Once the floodgates were open, the hero couldn’t stop.

“They’re just so strong, and dependable. And they’re always so gentle. Have you noticed that? Sure, they’re rough sometimes, but only when they have to be. I have this recurring dream where [Henchman] and I are fighting, and then they pin me to the wall with their big, powerful arms, and then – ”

“Okay!” the villain yelled, bursting up. They began rushing towards the door with a beet-red henchman in tow. “We’re taking a break. We’re going to let that wear off, and then reconvene. Jesus.”

The hero had never been more grateful for a break in their life.  

If one more person uses the phrase “you always get A’s, stop worrying” around me, I’m going to become an episode on forensic files

A ten, but….

I got tagged in by @jay-avian in their post here, (thank you by the way) and thought it looked fun! So here are a couple of my characters, kind of organized by what story they’re from, kind of not.

Melody—is a ten, but is the daughter of a serial killer and has already masterminded a plan for how your first introduction to her will go

Agent Jules—is a ten but is falling in love with a highly intelligent and slightly feral child of a serial killer

Lucy—is a ten and can rob you and kill you in under twenty seconds but her ace ass is awkwardly avoiding her best friend so he doesn’t have the chance to confess his love

Aletheia—is a ten but made a deal with a demon and then got kidnapped

Riven—is a ten but is a sassy little shit (and also a demon)

Travis—is a ten but literally ran away to Oklahoma to avoid his problems and proceeded to fall in love with a country boy and spill his secret identity

Shawn—is a ten but is also just kind of an asshole

Alex—is a ten but keeps shattering windows when he gets excited and his powers flare

Drake—is a ten but keeps getting stuck half phased through walls

Clarke—is a ten but is insane and plotting to take over the world

Briar—is a ten but got peer pressured into playing a children’s horror game and got yanked through a mirror into the reverse realm and was replaced by her reflection

Rain—is a ten but lives in an poisonous rain apocalypse and is used by the government to cause chaos so no-one questions why they haven’t found a cure (they have, it causes superpower mutations) (guess who has those)

And that’s the main ones! Or at least, the most fleshed out ones. Thanks for reading, and I’m going to tag @meadowofbluebells @ettawritesnstudies @kittensartswriting @iloveyou-writers @rehnwriter to join in the fun! (If they want)