USEDlighthouse__GetOutintotheCommunity

Get Out into the Community



By Wendy C Allen

Quaraun did not leave the lighthouse.

The lighthouse left him.

BoomFuzzy hauled.

Quaraun resisted.

Cane scraping stone. Silk snagging iron. The sea roared approval. The lighthouse door banged shut behind them, offended. Quaraun twisted, jelly tendrils lashing, venom beads trembling with agitation.

“No,” Quaraun said. Flat. Mechanical. “This is unnecessary exposure.”

BoomFuzzy laughed. Loud. Joyous. The sound Humans ran from.

“Ye been calcifyin, love. Get stiff in yer habits. Gods rot when they stagnate.”

“I am not a god,” Quaraun said. “I am busy.”

BoomFuzzy dragged him anyway.

"Ya gots to get out and show that you are a part of the community."

"I do not want to be in the community," Quaraun wailed. "I know this because my cane snags on every second cobble, because the wind tastes of fish rot and wet rope, because Humans exist. Because you, Unicorn, exist with intent."

"Aye, and I intend to get ya socialized, yis becoming a hermit."

Pink silks wrapped tight, shawl double knotted, gloves locked. He dug his heels. The ground slid anyway.

“No,” Quaraun said. Clear. Measured. Final. “I am engaged in vital solitude.”

BoomFuzzy laughed and kept walking. Cheerful as a knife in sunshine.

“Aye, an ye been engaged in it for two centuries, me wee jelly prince. Community builds resilience. Also builds gossip. I like gossip.”

Quaraun flailed. Jelly hair hissed, tendrils twitching like offended punctuation.

“I do not require resilience. I have survived apocalypses. Plural. I made two of them! I am The Pink Necromancer! I summoned the zombies to rise!”

“Aye, but ye survived em indoors,” Unicorn said. He tugged again. “Come on. Noodle Beach Village. Fishers. Nets. Soup. Old women what stare. Character building.”

Quaraun made a sound that was not language. He sat down. Hard. Snow puffed. Cane skittered.

“I will not be paraded like a carnival jelly.”

The path down toward Noodle Beach Village cut through frozen grass and old bones. Ship ribs. Human ribs. Quaraun catalogued them without emotion. Familiar inventory. His limp worsened on the slope. He hated that. He hated being moved without permission more.

“You are taking me toward Humans,” Quaraun said.

“Aye.”

“They are livestock.”

“Aye.”

“They carry disease.”

“Aye.”

“They scream.”

"Not as loud as you does."

"I will blow them up!"

"Aye." BoomFuzzy grinned wider. “That part is my favourite.”

Noodle Beach Village appeared as it always did. Too small. Too damp. A knot of shacks leaning together for warmth. Smoke from fish oil stoves. Nets hung like dead spiders. Humans moved slow. Bent backs. Salt hands. Eyes that noticed. Too close. Too exposed. Nets hung like warning sigils. Boats pulled high. Doors already closing. Shutters slamming. Smoke died in chimneys. Silence snapped into place.

Good.

They knew.

Run.

Fear The Pink Necromancer.

Quaraun straightened. Adjusted silk. Pink against grey. His presence rippled. He felt it. The subtle pull. The way dead things leaned toward him under the soil. The way the living leaned away.

Quaraun leaned against the wall. Counted breaths. One. Two. Three. The village smelled of life and rot and soap that did not clean. He watched hands. Nets. Knives. Nobody touched him. Good Humans. Rare. Valuable.

A bell rang once. Not a greeting. An alarm.

BoomFuzzy released him. Just long enough to loom. He shifted. Not fully. Teeth wrong for a Human smile. Eyes silver coins punched into meat. Phooka truth leaking through the shape.

A child pointed. A dog barked. Someone whispered. The word pink travelled. Quaraun tightened his shawl. His skin prickled under silk. Germs. Breath. Coughs. Touch. He held his hands close, gold gloves gleaming, fingers locked.

“Out,” BoomFuzzy called. “All of ye. Bring offerings.”

Footsteps scrambled. Doors cracked. Bowls placed on thresholds. Fish. Salt. Knotted twine. Cream. Fairy cakes.

A baby’s shoe.

Quaraun noted the mistake. That would cost them later.

A fisherman knelt too slow. Fear thick. Sweat sharp. BoomFuzzy levitated in front of him, nose to nose.

“Ye remember Pepper Valley?” BoomFuzzy asked, voice cheerful.

The man nodded so hard his teeth clicked.

"Ye...yea..yes, sir. You, you, you ate all the Elves."

“Good lad.”

BoomFuzzy stood. Crisis averted. For now.

Quaraun breathed through rose and absinthe. Focused. He did not look at the baby shoe again. He marked it. Later.

“This is inefficient,” Quaraun said. “We are wasting time.”

BoomFuzzy slung an arm around his shoulders. Heavy. Possessive.

“Community engagement, Love. Ye cannot terrorize proper if ye forget their rhythms. Gotta drop a gingerbread house on them every now and then and remind them who ate their children.”

“I do not forget,” Quaraun said. “I curate.”

They walked the narrow lane. Humans pressed flat to walls. No eye contact. Smart. A woman crossed herself with salt. Quaraun approved of the accuracy. Though laughed inside at the stupidity. Salt was for Demons not Elves. Not Faeries.

A child cried. Bad. BoomFuzzy stopped. Turned. Smile vanished.

Silence fell like a dropped knife.

The crying stopped.

BoomFuzzy resumed walking.

“See. Social.”

Quaraun’s mind snagged on inconsistencies. He hated that. He catalogued rules to regain control. Do not touch. Do not inhale deeply. Do not let them speak first. He muttered numbers. Prime sequence. Stabilizing.

A door opened without permission.

That was wrong.

A man stepped out. Braver than smart. Held a knife. Fishing knife. Laughable. He spoke. That was worse.

“You do not own this village,” the man said.

BoomFuzzy froze.

Quaraun felt it. The pressure drop. The air thinning. He reached for his wand by reflex. Pink dial warm.

BoomFuzzy laughed. Soft. Dangerous.

“I eat kings, wee man. Or did you forget that?”

The knife shook. The man dropped it. Fell to his knees. Begged. Words tangled. Snot. Tears. Quaraun tracked spittle distance. Too close.

BoomFuzzy leaned down. Whispered. Not kind. The man pissed himself. Quaraun smelled it. Ammonia. Fear. He stepped back.

“Enough,” Quaraun said. “This is sloppy. Unsanitary.”

BoomFuzzy straightened. Mood snapped back to bright.

“Aye. Ye right. We came for practice, not harvest.”

He kicked the knife into the sea. No blood spilled. Today.

They reached the centre of the village. Old shrine. Broken saint. Offerings piled. Left for the MerMan of MoonSnail Cove. Quaraun's great grandson. Quaraun inspected them. Corrected alignment with his cane. Improved symmetry. Control returned. Etiole will be pleased. This was a good offering. His mind drifted back to the baby shoe. He scowled. They left with a jar of pickled kelp and no blood spilled. Victory. Outside, wind again. Freedom. Quaraun exhaled too hard.

“You see,” BoomFuzzy said. “They remember us.”

“Yes,” Quaraun said. “They fear us correctly.”

“That is community.”

Quaraun considered. He disliked the word. But the data held. Fear maintained order. Order reduced unpredictability. Predictability reduced contamination vectors.

He did not like being here. But he understood it.

A Human coughed. Wet. Close.

Quaraun recoiled. Jelly tendrils flared. The ground answered. A corpse hand punched up through frozen sand. Grabbed the coughing man’s ankle. Held. Not killing. Teaching.

“Distance,” Quaraun said. "Your germs will not contaminate me. I will summon the UnDead here if you defile my aura!"

The village obeyed.

BoomFuzzy clapped.

“There he is. Pink Necromancer proper.”

They turned back toward the path. The lighthouse watched. Waiting. Quaraun loosened his grip on the wand. Did not put it away.

Behind them, the village remained intact. Shaken. Alive. That was mercy enough.

BoomFuzzy leaned in. Bit Quaraun’s ear. Affectionate. Sharp.

“We will do this again.”

“No,” Quaraun said.

BoomFuzzy laughed.

The sea swallowed the knife.

The path cracked with frost. The sea kept breathing. The community remained, small and damp and alive. Quaraun allowed the thought to sit beside him, not inside.

The lighthouse opened.

The lighthouse door opened like a mouth that had been holding its breath.

Quaraun crossed the threshold first, dragged only in the sense that gravity dragged stars. The stone floor recognized him. Settled. The air thickened with rose petals and absinthe and old salt. The door slammed behind them without being touched. Locks slid. Wards sighed into place.

Home.

Quaraun stopped just inside, cane planted, shoulders rigid. Jelly tendrils unfurled a fraction, tasting the familiar damp, the old blood worked into mortar, the slow hum of necromantic circuits buried in the walls. His fists stayed clenched. Gold gloves creaked. He did not remove his shawl.

BoomFuzzy kicked snow from his bare feet, laughing, already halfway into the room.

“Ahhh, hearth an horror. Missed ye, didn’t ye, old tower?” He slapped the wall. The lighthouse groaned back, indulgent.

Above them, something thumped.

GhoulSpawn appeared on the stairs, blinking, fleece rumpled, horns catching the lantern light. One hand dragged along the banister, the other clutched a mug that steamed faintly with sulphur. He squinted down at them, omega eyes unfocused.

“…Why are you both fully dressed,” GhoulSpawn said. “And why does it smell like fear and fish guts.”

BoomFuzzy beamed.

“Mornin, sunshine.”

GhoulSpawn frowned harder.

“You went out.”

“Yes,” BoomFuzzy said. “With purpose.”

Quaraun said nothing. His jaw worked. He stared at the far wall, at a crack shaped like a spine. Counted stones. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twentyteen. Twenty-oneteen.

"If it was just you, I'd think you were out digging clams." GhoulSpawn descended another step. “But you got Quaraun to go outside with you?He won't let clam juice defile his precense. Where'd you go?”

BoomFuzzy slung an arm wide.

“Noodle Beach Village. Paid the neighbours a visit. Community outreach.”

GhoulSpawn stopped. Mug froze halfway to his mouth.

“You took HIM there?”

“Aye.”

“To the fishing village.”

“Aye.”

“To the Humans.”

"aye."

"Did he obliterate them?"

BoomFuzzy’s grin sharpened.

“They still breathing. Call it success.”

GhoulSpawn looked at Quaraun. Took in the white-knuckled grip on the cane. The way the jelly tendrils twitched, not curious, not relaxed, but tight, coiled like wire under tension.

"Still breathing?"

"Aye. Though one pissed his pants."

“…You terrorized them,” GhoulSpawn said.

"Socalized."

"Terrorized."

BoomFuzzy shrugged.

“Socialised. Terrorized. Tomato, tomahto.”

GhoulSpawn sighed.

“You know, you could try being nice to Humans. For once.”

BoomFuzzy barked a laugh so loud the lanterns flickered.

“No fun in that. Fear shakes better. Makes the day sparkle.”

"Why's Quaraun so angry?"

"Him always angry. It's his default state of being."

"Yeah, but, he looks more angry then normal."

"Does he? Eh. Hadn't noticed. Probably on account of my being blind."

"It wasn't that bad, going to visit the Humans, was it?" GhoulSpawn asked Quaraun.

Quaraun’s fist slammed into the wall.

Stone spiderwebbed. Dust fell. A corpse somewhere below twitched in sympathy.

Silence snapped.

GhoulSpawn flinched.

“Okay. So it WAS that bad.”

Quaraun turned slowly. His eyes were bright. Not watery. Bright with calculation and insult. He spoke very carefully.

“It was worse.”

BoomFuzzy leaned against the table, delighted.

“Here we go.”

Quaraun lifted one trembling hand, still clenched, then forced the fingers open one by one, as if unlocking a mechanism.

“Someone,” he said. “Had the audacity to offer me clothing.”

"Uhm." GhoulSpawn blinked. “…Clothing?”

“Yes.”

"And that upset you?"

"Of course it did."

"Of course." GhoulSpawn paused wondering if he had missed part of the conversation. "Uhm...? Uh... when you say clothing, you mean, like, clothing?"

"Clothing."

“As in—”

“As in they looked upon my resplendent, handwoven pink saori silks,” Quaraun said, voice climbing, reaching hysteria pitch. “Red tussar. Eri gathered. Spun, dyed, woven, and consecrated by my own hands. By me. And they decided this was insufficient.”

BoomFuzzy snorted.

“The nerve.”

“They treated it,” Quaraun continued, pacing now, limp pronounced, cane striking sparks. “As if it were rags. As if I were cold. As if I were a beggar. As if I were Human. They treated me, an Elf, like a lowly Human!”

GhoulSpawn opened his mouth, closed it again.

“Okay but—”

“And it gets worse,” Quaraun said. His jelly tendrils flared, venom beads quivering.

"It does?"

"Yes!"

"How?"

“It was not merely clothing."

"It wasn't?"

"No!"

"What was it?"

"It was shoes.”

"Shoes?"

"SHOES!"

BoomFuzzy howled with laughter.

“Shoes!”

“Shoes,” Quaraun hissed. “I am an Elf. We do not wear shoes. Do you see shoes on my feet?"

"No."

"I always walk around barefoot do I not?"

"You absolutely do. Even in deep s drifts and on icy roads. I had noticed this."

"I am am Elf!"

"As you keep saying."

"We make shoes. Have you not seen my collection?”

GhoulSpawn stared. “You have… a shoe collection?”

Quaraun swept past him, gesturing sharply toward a peg-lined wall. Dozens of slippers hung there. Pink silk ballet-style shoes, delicate, absurdly ornate, long silk ribbons looped and knotted, hanging like offerings. They gleamed softly in the lighthouse light.

“These,” Quaraun said. “Are art. These are craft. These are carried.” He hooked one bundle over his arm to demonstrate, holding them like a purse. “They are not worn. Ever.”

"Uhm..." GhoulSpawn nodded slowly. He did not understand anything that was going on, but decided it best to nod and agree with everything Quaraun said. “…Okay.”

“And not just any shoes,” Quaraun went on, voice cracking with controlled fury. “Baby shoes.”

BoomFuzzy slapped the table again.

“Oh that is blasphemy.”

"Baby shoes?"

"Baby shoes. They offered me, a Moon Elf, baby shoes."

"And that's bad?"

"YES!"

GhoulSpawn frowned.

“Why?”

Quaraun stopped dead. Turned. Stared at him as if he had spoken nonsense in a dead language.

“Why.”

GhoulSpawn shrugged, hooves clicking on stone.

“I mean. I am from the nineteen seventies. Shoes are shoes. Also I have hooves. I have never worn shoes. I don't really know much about shoes, y'know?”

BoomFuzzy leaned in, voice dropping, delighted and dangerous.

“Faerie law, lad. Offerin clothes is an insult. Offerin shoes is a declaration. Offerin baby shoes is… complicated. We eat babies.”

"Yeah... I've heard that about you."

"Goblin King. Eating babies comes with the job."

"Yeaaah... I don't... I don't understand Faerie laws. I'm a Demon."

Quaraun’s voice went flat. “It is an accusation.”

"Of what?"

"Of being beneath them."

GhoulSpawn processed that. Slowly.

“They thought you… needed them.”

“They implied,” Quaraun said. “That I was unfinished. Unclothed. Improper. That I required correction. That I, an Elf, was infantile, was beneath a Human.”

BoomFuzzy grinned.

“If I had not intervened, there would be no village.”

GhoulSpawn rubbed his face.

“You intervened how?”

BoomFuzzy winked.

“With restraint.”

"Restraint?"

"Aye. I did no lop off their heads for insulting me Elf."

"They insulted me," Quaraun agreed.

"And you didn't kill any of them?"

Quaraun turned away again, fists clenching anew.

“I did not kill anyone,” he said.

“This is evidence of growth.”

“Yes,” BoomFuzzy said cheerfully. “I am very proud.”

GhoulSpawn watched them both. The god who killed ships for routine. The king who ate Elves for pleasure. Standing in their lighthouse, offended not by blood or threat or death, but by a baby shoe.

“…Next time,” GhoulSpawn said carefully. “Maybe we put up a sign.”

BoomFuzzy laughed. “Next time we go again.”

Quaraun did not answer. He lifted the bundle of silk slippers higher on his arm, straightened the ribbons, and walked deeper into the lighthouse, every step precise, controlled, furious.

The door locked itself again.

Outside, the sea kept quiet.

The End?

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Seen in image: 

- IMAGE 1: The Pink Necromancer, Thullid Infested Moon Elf silk weaver, travelling merchant, & Royal Court Mage of The UnSeelie Court: Quaraun Swanzen on Noodle Beach. With his unhinged temper, his 12 foot long prehensile, venomous jellyfish tentacle hair, his deadly laser wand, and his inability to stay sober long enough to cast a spell properly, he is the most feared being in the known universe. Quaraun is literally a Space JellyFish (A Thullid) whom has taken control of the corpse of a dead Elf.

In the year 2525, a comet struck the Moon. Now, in 40th century Maine, Earth is frozen, the Moon is fractured, and UnDead Lobsters are a serious problem. And then there's Quaraun: The Pink Necromancer. Most feared super villain on Earth. Possibly the galaxy. Maybe ever. But all he wants is tea, silk embroidery, and a calm evening in his lighthouse.

- IMAGE 2: Master Chef Phooka turned Lich King of The UnSeelie Court: King Gwallmaiic aka BoomFuzzy the Unicorn with his 1968 VW Bus Beach Noodle Food Truck. He is king of the entire fucking planet. Defy him and he'll serve you as the main course of the next UnSeelie Court feast. The world's only known Unicorn, in his true form he is a tiny lilac coloured Shetland Pony with a gleaming silver horn. In his Lich form he is a blue crystal skeleton of a Friesian stallion. 

BoomFuzzy, the Unicorn Lich King of the UnSeelie Court, is Quaraun's dead husband. Technically dead. Officially terrifying. Unofficially the best baker left in the apocalypse.

- IMAGE 3: The Satyr-like, mad scientist Sheep Demon: Gremorse Liore aka GhoulSpawn with his 1974 AMC Gremlin time machine. He is Quaraun's apprentice, and fast becoming the most powerful wizard in the universe.

GhoulSpawn, their brilliant, baffled companion, fell through time from 1978 and never found the way home. Now he juggles tech repairs, running from zombies, and being madly in love with the two most dangerous men of the apocalypse.

 - Art by Wendy Christine Allen. 

- Not seen here: Toobe: a deceptively innocent looking tiny flying silver metal orb that hoovers around GhoulSpawn, giving science reports and scanning for dangers, Toobe is a sadistically insane sentient AI from thirteen thousand years in the future, who is the real brains behind the plot of global domination.

The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane - A Pink Necromancer Short Fiction Story 

Domestic Lives of Dangerous Faeries - LGBTQAI+ Queer MPreg Cozy Fantasy Fiction w a F2M Elf Wizard, a Gay Faerie Chef, & a BiSexual Demon Time Traveller, Free To Read Online

Series Trigger Warnings:

 * Polyamorous married gay couple and their live-in lover

 * Intersex main character, who lives as a trans man

 * Furry Yaoi 

 * Characters often drink, swear, use drugs, and smoke hookahs.

 * Transman Mpreg

Not all things appear in all stories. 

Series Heat Level:

 * Short Stories: Sweet, Fluffy, Lime, or Limon

 * Novellas: Lime, Limon, Orange

 * Novels: Orange, Lemon

What is the series about?

It's three god-level, planet destroying, alien invader Space Elf, Space Faerie, Space Demon megalomaniac super villain bumbling wizards, and their ship's crew (The UnSeelie Court) with big global domination plans, whom have invaded 40th century Earth, settled in a lighthouse in Maine, started a zombie apocalypse, are hellbent on destroying all Humans and taking over the planet, but are never getting anything done because they are too busy throwing temper tantrums, having hissy fits, and flinging food, sea slugs, insults, and sexual tension at each other, to ever get around to destroying the planet.

It's slice-of-life survival horror in a post-apocalyptic necromantic dictatorship, told through dysfunctional domestic intimacy between soul-stealing villains who rule the world. Welcome to the spiralling madness of Quaraun’s eldritch, sensory-heavy, character-driven, neurotic, dysfunctional, intimate, sugar-dusted Fae-punk world. This is the hostile, dystopian, necromantic, and hyper-sensory domestic horror of Quaraun’s everyday life with BoomFuzzy (and sometimes GhoulSpawn), in a grim world ruled by undead Faerie warlords where society has collapsed and survival is brutal, intimate, and corrupt, and Humans are often on the menu of UnSeelie Court feasts.





While there are around 20k pages on this website, most of them are blocked from search engines, with only around 800 of them available for appearing in Google/Bing/etc search results. The remainder can only be accessed via the various links found throughout this site. This was done deliberately on my part, and I did it because the bulk of the pages on this website are chapters from 138 novels and 423 novellas, so only the first page of each novel and novella indexed by search engines, and the remainder are linked in order, one page at a time, via clicking "next page" at the end of each. So if you are looking for a specific page from a specific novel, Google can't help you.



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Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻
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