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I Married a Goblin King and All I Got Was Existential Dread: A Collection of Mini-Stories: Each Story Can Be Read in Five Minutes or Less SAMPLE STORY: The Shared Quiet Moments In the silence deep, We share a love without words, It speaks in our touch. Night pressed against the lighthouse like a wet fist, rattling frost along the rafters. Quaraun drifted through the cramped chamber with sluggish steps, pink silks whispering across stone, heart thrumming with that old jellyfish pulse. Inside his skull, his inner goddess hissed: You rot inside beauty, JellyThing. You drip pink over bones. He hissed back: Silk conquers rot. Silk is control. GhoulSpawn tinkered with a sparking device by the hearth, muttering equations and anxieties, gold eyes flicking anywhere except the lovers on the wolf-fur pallet. He kept his distance because Quaraun's moods snapped teeth these nights, and BoomFuzzy's magic snapped harder. Quaraun's head rested on BoomFuzzy's shoulder, the two of them nestled together in their shared space. He breathed the Lich King's scent: peppermint, frost, sugar-burnt fudge, cold grave dirt; a mix that soothed him, terrified him. BoomFuzzy: A lover returned from the grave. His Unicorn: A lover immortal. The Lich King: A lover for eternity. Not even death could sever their bond. But eternity had a taste, and it tasted wrong. A cold ripple crawled beneath Quaraun's ribs, jellyfish instinct twitching as if some unseen current tugged at him. A whisper slithered along his spine, thin, sharp, wet. His goddess whispered in a voice like knives dragged through seawater: He is dead, JellyThing. He is dead, and you lie in the arms of rot. His tentacles stirred, sensing movement where no movement belonged. A pulse in the floorboards. A breath in the walls. BoomFuzzy's warmth pressed against him, yet the warmth felt stolen, borrowed, artificial, like heat painted onto a corpse. Then the thought stabbed through him, sudden, unbidden: What if eternity meant BoomFuzzy never stopped hungering? What if the Lich King's love lasted forever because forever was how long it would take to finish devouring him? The room seemed to tilt. The shadows leaned closer, eager. For a heartbeat, Quaraun felt teeth just behind his throat- not biting, not yet, only waiting. Terror drifted through him. All was peaceful. Peace frightened him. Peace meant stillness. Stillness meant the shadows could think. His jellyfish hair rippled, tendrils lifting, testing the air like pale ghosts sniffing danger. A tremor skittered down Quaraun's spine. The floor melted into tidal ooze. Tiny shrimp-lights danced along his toes, whispering his sins. A white crab marched across his vision with BoomFuzzy's face, calling him a ""daft pink tangle."" He blinked. Floor remained floor. Mostly. BoomFuzzy ran his hand through Quaraun's hair, the silver strands weaving between his fingers. The room sloped sideways, walls bending toward him like hungry Faerie Trees. Planet Vesonta eats the inattentive. Darkness chews. Woods walk. Light misbehaves. His inner goddess laughed inside him: This house breathes. It hungers for you, Pink Necromancer. He snarled back: Everything hungers for me. I endure. It was the sort of silence that said everything, the comfort of being close without needing to speak. They shared these moments often, quiet, still, and yet full of love. BoomFuzzy nuzzled his throat. He wrapped closer around BoomFuzzy anyway. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Nothing except the faint scraping under the floorboards. Nothing except the whispering goddess. Nothing except the truth that love, true love, always carried teeth, and not even death could fight that.

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