Shelby L.E. (The Writer)
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shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Shelby L.E. (The Writer)
@shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
440 followers 600 following 570 posts
Writer, devourer of stories, gamer, Environmental science nerd, recycler of memes, and occasionally a complete, strung-out mess.

themagpiemeditations.wordpress.com

If you also use humor to hide the pain, we're gonna vibe.
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shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Remember guys, don't take strange vials of mystery fluid from cute girls in bars!
#wipsnips #amwriting #writingcommunity
“You’ll have to wait until the morning.” Was what I was going to say, but then a brief, ominous knock sounded at my door. “Fuck.” I muttered. “Come in.” The door cracked open and the ambient light from my phone reflected Isephus’s eye with a cat-like gleam, as he growled in a bass I felt, “It’s fucking 3.” I sighed, “I’m sorry–Mac is having an…issue.” “Is that daddy ‘sephus?” Mac’s voice piped out brightly, and I winced as the door creaked open enough to now include both eyes, now widening in outrage. “Tell him I said hi–oh ancients I forgot ‘bout the fucking tether. Shit. It’s probably fine and I can wait until the morn–uh-oh.” A concussive clatter caused me to yank the phone away from my ear with a cry of pain, and when I looked at the screen the call had disconnected. After calling back three times without Mac answering (while I did my best to avoid looking in Isephus’s direction), I slumped in bed. I’d barely opened my mouth when Isephus said in a terrifying, quiet voice, “A gigantic favor, Alexa.” I didn’t even try to negotiate. “That’s fair.” Bargain magic rippled across my skin.
June 24, 2025 at 4:34 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Little worldbuilding details like this always bring me joy. This is the Halvar/Peter novella, which takes place primarily in 2014 in Ireland. #amwriting #amquerying
Halvar took a seat with his back facing the man, wondering if he was possibly some form of boar shifter, and tugged out his own phone. It was amazing what technology could do these days, and he thought for a moment on his earlier centuries–he was only 226, after all. Carrier pigeons, regular mundane post, and magical messaging of course (which was, and would always be, a popular option). His only complaint with texts and emails was their intangible nature; unless you printed them out there was no physical copy–and even then, it was in a set font, not the person’s own handwriting. Like many who’d adventured, he had his own box of letters at home that he would sometimes go through, not even to read the irrelevant contents within, but to admire how one of his long-gone friends wrote their ‘J’s’, or the onion skin thin paper one missive would be written on, while the next would be written on paper so sturdy it could be used to patch a hole in the wall. Emails and texts just didn’t have that same character, he mused. But, with a shrug, Halvar could acknowledge the prosaic: mobile phones were fast and took no magical energy to send a message. They were one of the most direct lines of communication in the world that an average person had access to.
June 17, 2025 at 4:43 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Wulp, guess I'm writing a novella about Peter and Halvar now. 🙃why do I do this to myself? If you've seen my other excerpts these two appear in Wilton & Raven's story.
He strolled back the way he was show in, taking in the busy stableyard and doing his best to stay out of the way–though he was almost run over by a slight man, with hair redder than Nora’s, carrying a bag of oats. “Ah, sorry.” Halvar apologized, dashing out of the way. He only received a scowl in return before the smaller man hurried on. “Don’t mind Peter.” A harried voice said next to him, and Halvar turned to see a taller man with the same nose and chin as the aforementioned Peter–but the red of his hair was darker, the blue eyes stormier and flecked with pewter. He was holding a hay bale so he used his chin to point in Peter’s general direction, “That’s just his way. I’m Tadhg–you must be Halvar Thalimor. We’ll talk more later–I’ll come find you once we get all the horses settled. Tell Mairin I said that you’re to have any spirit you like, as a thank you for coming to work out here with us.” And before Halvar could reply Tadhg was gone in a stumble of feet and cloud of hay dust. With a bemused shake of his head Halvar continued on, assuming that he would hopefully know Mairin when he saw her.
June 5, 2025 at 2:51 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Beware foreign regional delicacies! The atollian drifters are based on Atolla wyvillei, also known as the Atolla jellyfish/coronate Medusa. Also did you know that most aquatic life have the pain receptors for spicy? #amwriting #shamelessselfpromotion
Wilton ended up with the atollian drifter in his palm, a gelatinous cup of shocking red cradling a wobbly orb more blue than the sky above, and sucked it all down in one mouthful. All the textures of the food so far were interesting, if not outright foreign to Wilton–and the atollian drifter’s contents went down silkily, with a hint of thickness. The problem was when a fierce burn flared in his mouth, and he had to suppress a cough. Although there was no way for his eyes to water, the heat from this jellyfish (for now Wilton recognized it, much too late) shot through every part of his body until he felt warm and toasty. He exchanged another glance with his cousin; grateful for all of the spicy food they grew up eating. Actually, now that the initial burn was subsiding, Wilton thought he wouldn’t mind another. It was bedlam in the room as the Umbracline delegation released foamy bubbles of mirth (their version of laughter), as everyone else showed anywhere from mild to severe discomfort at the spiciness of the delicacy. The Seluraen monarchs took it well, a rosy glow suffusing their pale cheeks. Their daughters differed. The younger, who so far in Wilton’s acquaintance had been quiet and stilted, took a hesitant sampling, then drained the rest of her dish with relish. The older, far more exuberant than her sister, took her own hesitant sip, then without making a face she handed her drifter over to her sister.
May 14, 2025 at 7:48 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
#shamelessselfpromotion #amwriting
Francesca was a small, lap-sized dog missing almost all of her teeth, and she tottered around rather happily on stiffened legs. “Overzealous healer.” Halvar said, only his eyes a little grim. “She was trampled by a horse and the only healer they had, in attempting to save her life, did a bit too much and too wrong. Even with rebreaking and rehealing her joints, this is the best she can do. But she is the best snuggler, yes she is.” Halvar cooed, and Francesca’s fluffy, plumed tail wagged with delight. Her liquid brown eyes fixed onto Wilton then, and after a moment of sniffing she barked at him! Wilton felt almost offended, but why was the corner of his mouth attempting to curl up in a smile? Clearing his throat, he said, “She’s got some fire to her.” “Oh yes.” Halvar agreed fondly.
May 13, 2025 at 5:08 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
If you've ever owned a husky, you know the exact look I'm describing. #shamelessselfpromotion #amwriting
“Where did you even get these?” He asked, frustrated, and when he looked at Raven he saw the overturned laundry hamper next to her–with the destroyed sock’s mate in her mouth. He pushed aside his disgust that she was chewing on his dirty socks, of all things, and pointing at her again commanded, “Drop it, Raven.” She only stared at him, frosty eyes alight with mischief, and her tail waved slowly from side to side. “Raven.” Wilton repeated stonily, and he pointed at the floor, “Drop. It.” She blinked at him, and didn’t move. He wondered at her gall of daring to disobey an order, but remembered that he couldn’t keep repeating commands. He’d just have to take the sock out of her mouth himself, and tell her no. Except, when he took a step forward, she bolted, sock still clamped between her teeth. He didn’t have a chance to tell her no, or to stay, and only took off after her–his teeth gritted while her tail wagged furiously the whole time. He almost got her cornered in the living room, but through some straight up trickery Raven managed to dodge him and took him along another merry chase around the house.
May 12, 2025 at 5:15 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
I love bathysphere. It's such a fun word. Well that and bathypelagic. Though whenever I see either of the words I immediately think of Bioshock (such a great damn game with an amazing story). #shamelessselfpromotion #amwriting
The bathysphere ride to Selurae took about four hours. With the current magical technological advances, it could technically be done in an instant, except for the enormous amount of power that would require, and the off-chance of the bodily conversion going wrong. Wilton picked at his teeth with his tongue, chasing any stray bits of hawthorn leaf, and tried to relax into his seat. So far, due to their smooth descent, he felt pressed into his chair, and he tried to ignore how uncomfortable it was. Probably it was uncomfortable on purpose, so you would be aware if something was going awry with your own body, instead of being lulled into a silent death by the slow decrease of breathable air in the chamber. “Don’t worry,” Nebu had said as they both ate the ‘salad’ that was made up of the conversion components, “there hasn’t been a transformation death in decades.” Wilton tried not to think about it–how his body was gradually changing itself to withstand the pressure of the deep-sea, the lack of light the further down they went, as well as whatever other necessary changes they needed to survive down there–like breathing. This was where, he supposed, his water nymph heritage would come in handy. He’d heard how the process was slightly jarring, but maybe to him it would feel more natural? He would know in about three and a half hours.
May 10, 2025 at 3:02 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Right?! Look at this. I didn't realize that the mid-Atlantic range is from Pangaea splitting apart. So all of that underwater mountain range is from continental drift. Our planet is so cool! :3
May 8, 2025 at 10:17 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Dogs are the best. #writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompts #shamelessselfpromotion #WIPsnips
He never thought there would come a day where he would sip his morning tea and watch Raven do her business, just to make sure her poop looked healthy. Yet another thing he could add to the list of ‘secrets that no Threesong can ever know about his life now’. “Good. If it looks off or wrong, get in touch right away. That’s usually one of the bigger signs that she might be coming down with something. Anyway, speaking of poop, I have to go. I have an impacted anal gland appointment coming in, and that’s going to require both of my hands.” “Have…fun.” Wilton said faintly, and he hung up. Then he stared at Raven, who’d tossed the chewed off limb to the side and was now pinching out nips of fluff to throw all over the floor. He smiled, then said, “Raven.” She looked at him, head cocked to the side, ears facing front. His smile faded, and he pleaded, “Please, for the love of the ancients, never let your anal glands get impacted.” Being a dog and not understanding a word of this, she gave a wag of her tail, and returned to murdering her toy.
May 2, 2025 at 4:50 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Pulling from a different WIP today. I found it interesting in my universe that cigarettes still exist, though with a bit less arsenic and crap. I think, no matter the society, some form of vice will always persist. #Writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompts #amwriting #shamelessselfpromotion
Evans slid her a droll stare, took a long drag, and blew smoke in Liz’s direction. The wind was in her favor, so it didn’t do much, but the message was received all the same. She was a mollifier when it came to homework or getting events to move along, not people’s feelings, so she only held out the two news article printouts to him, the more salacious headline on top as bait. Evans stared at her, he looked to be about to flick his ash onto the papers, when his blue eyes darted down and widened. He perked up, let his cig hang off his lower lip, and he mumbled past it, “Well would you lookit that?”
April 20, 2025 at 1:39 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
"A stór" is Irish and translates to "my treasure/darling". I really need to stop coming up with great couples, because I've now given myself another novella to write...about Halvar and Peter (who are even more on the side characters than Wilton). #writingcommunity #writingprompts #amwriting
Each word felt like an arrow to Wilton’s heart, the sting stirring up a reflexive anger in him that caused him to spit, “Ancients-be-damned! I am not some callous brute! Obviously the dog would be cared for–” But Peter was shaking his head, eyes stormy, “No, Mr. Threesong. Whichever of my dogs you take into your care will require more than ‘being cared for’. I do not think,” He added, his cheeks flushed, “that you are intentionally callous or cruel to any innocent being. But benign neglect is still neglect.” Wilton reeled back as if slapped, “How dare you–” “Everything okay, a stór?” A large, broad-shouldered blond man walked through the kennel doors, coming to stand behind Peter like a living statue of a warrior. Halvar, Ingrid’s oldest son, inclined his head respectfully, though his blue eyes glinted with warning, as he said, “Mr. Threesong.”
April 17, 2025 at 5:12 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Lol pretty much. She's very demanding.
April 17, 2025 at 3:07 AM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Wet puppy snuffles in the ear make me giggle uncontrollably every single time. #Writingcommunity #writingprompts #amwriting #writesky #shamelessselfpromotion
He dozed off, the geas had settled for now, and his nerves sparkled with electricity when a wet nose snuffled against the back of his neck. Wilton stayed still, and had to repress a giggle when Raven huffed against what she could reach of his pointed ear. From the corner of his eye he saw Halvar watching, and he gestured for Wilton to stay where he was, but to talk. Unsure of what to say, tired as hell, Wilton just said, “Hello, Raven. It’s nice to meet you.” A little growl breathed across his neck and he felt her jump back, startled at his voice, but after waiting a minute she returned to sniff every bit of him she could reach. Halvar prompted him silently, and Wilton tried again, “Hello Raven. Uh–how are you?” Ancients he felt stupid, but he was exhausted, so when she didn’t jump back this time he went on gamely, “I know we only just met but would you like to come home with me? My house is in a quiet neighborhood, and the backyard is decent. I never use it for anything–” he really only came home to sleep, or take care of personal needs, “–but I think you’d like it.” Raven curiously finished sniffing him, then sneezed on the back of his head.
April 16, 2025 at 5:32 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Yes, keep ignoring the magical obligation - what could possibly go wrong? #writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompts #shamelessselfpromotion
“Damn it!” Wilton gritted out as the porcelain cup slipped out of his shaking fingers to smash amongst his bare feet. It’d been two days since he saw Bernie at the Ocean Hub, and Wilton had given up. He hadn’t gone to look for women, hadn’t bothered looking for another dog rescue, but had simply sat stubbornly at home and stewed; ignoring the growing ache in his gut as the geas protested like a petulant brat. The first day it wasn’t so bad, day two increasingly uncomfortable, but now they were at the start of day three and Wilton had to lean against the wall in order to walk from his bedroom to the kitchen. He was trembling from pain and fatigue and most likely hunger, but any attempts to eat made his throat clamp shut. So far he’d been subsisting on tea alone, but that was rather hard to do when he now could barely get his hands to work. Or, as his knees collapsed under him, as his legs refused to hold him any longer. He managed to slide a bit to the side so he didn’t cut himself on the shattered porcelain, and he gazed at his kitchen ceiling while rapidly cooling tea soaked his pajama pants.
April 14, 2025 at 5:28 AM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
I don't have 'comply' in this novella so I'll go with 'geas', which is an obligation magically imposed on a person. I'm really enjoying writing a slice of life/dog adoption story in my universe, and think it'll be a fun read when finished. #writingprompts #writingcommunity #shamelessselfpromotion
“Well, how do you feel?” She asked thirty minutes and a walk across Merlevier later. Flabbergasted, Wilton tried to think of a polite way to express his feelings on the absurdity of this whole situation. Instead he stared at the dog kennels, blinking stupidly. Next to Ingrid a slight man with pale freckled skin and a shock of fiery hair shifted on his feet, obviously uncomfortable. This is ridiculous. Wilton thought frantically, gaze darting around too quickly to catch on one thing. A dog? Me? I don’t have time for a dog. They drool and slobber, and its fur will get on everything I own–what in the possible hells could Ingrid Thalimor be thinking?! The geas, though, only plucked at his scars as he balked, when it had settled down nearabout when he’d entered the dog rescue that Ingrid’s son Halvar, and his husband Peter, ran.
April 13, 2025 at 4:15 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Thalassophobia, the Undersea, and bargains, oh my! #writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompts #amwriting
“I don’t see why not.” Nebu answered readily enough, and then his light brown eyes, a Threesong family trait, flicked up with a sharp gleam. “That would work out well, as I was hoping to secure your help with these undersea treaties.” He figured that Nebu would want something in return, but that drew him up short. The undersea wasn’t his area of expertise, nor was his work related to the Stepping system. “What would you require of me?” Wilton inquired, leaning forward. “I need an associate for the return trip–you would act as a secretary, unfortunately.” Wilton waved this off, he wasn’t that egotistical. “But my current secretary has an irrational fear of the deep ocean, and all of her possible replacements aren’t nearly as organized as you.”
April 10, 2025 at 4:36 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Unfortunately I don't have supply, so I'm using supply as in "to suggest or offer unasked for advice". Don't feel bad for Wilton, he's 100% deserves the BS he's going through right now.
#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #amwriting
All of the turmoil in Wilton ground to a halt, and all he said was, “Explain.” “Edgar is always spouting off about how Maren taught him everything he knows.” Nebu replied calmly. “Her father died a month before she was born, ergo, she learned everything she knows from her mother. If anyone could advise you, well…” Nebu sipped his tea with a smug expression. “And since she’s a healer, she wouldn’t be able to tell those miscreants that I visited.” Wilton mused. “You’re not suggesting, though–” Spluttering, Nebu said, “Absolutely not. The family wouldn’t stand for it.” And they both knew that if Wilton tried to propose a love match to Ingrid Thalimor, she would eat him alive.
April 7, 2025 at 6:44 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
I'm really excited about this novella, and am basing Raven off of a dog I knew when I worked at a municipal shelter and my own husky, Sif. Wilton, of course, is an oblivious idiot who's about to learn just how much love a dog has to give. #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #Writesky #amwriting
It wasn’t until near the end of the row that Wilton’s interest was sparked. Far in the back corner of the kennel huddled a black shock of fur, and wary blue eyes stared at him and Halvar. When Wilton continued to stare, the dog stood and braced as if ready to fight, and began to bark at him nonstop. “Ah, don’t make eye contact with her.” Halvar said, signalling that he and Wilton should turn around. When they did, the barking continued for a few seconds longer before it trailed off. Wilton went to look again, but Halvar caught him gently by the shoulder. “That is Raven.” Wilton wanted to snort. That poor dog was a mangy bag of bones, and nothing like the glossy, proud creature she was named after. Instead, he asked, “What’s her story?” “Found as a street dog, severely underweight. We’ve only just gone to feeding her three small meals a day instead of four to get her back up to a fighting weight. She had way too many friends–” Halvar slanted a confused Wilton an amused glance and amended, “fleas, ticks, and worms. But,” he sighed, “even when she is back to a healthy weight, she will still require a lot of time and effort. It’s obvious to us that Raven was treated poorly by humanity, and she has little trust to give. Even now, after a month and a half of care, we are still gentle and slow with her.”
April 6, 2025 at 11:28 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
#writesky #writingprompts #writingcommunity #romantasy #amwriting #shamelessselfpromotion
That didn’t upset Miloš–it was Ingrid enlisting the forest-friends in not enabling Miloš' deprecating self-talk, teaching them that it could take a lot longer for a wound to heal if that sort of talk was allowed. Bernie, smartly, kept his validated amusement to himself when the forest-friends took Ingrid’s ‘suggestion’ as an order from the Space Between and promptly harassed Miloš, even if he was only joking sometimes. Instead of attempting to explain (since in this instance the forest-friends had misunderstood), Miloš let out a long-suffering sigh and droned, “You are, of course, correct Zem.” “Well of course I am!” Zem asserted with stout enthusiasm, “I learned everything I know from the glorious Ingrid, after all.”
March 28, 2025 at 3:17 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Pizza with extra toppings makes everything better. #writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompts #amwriting #romantasy
He practically jogged down the lane to Ingrid’s house, not picking up the scent of hot pizza until he was on the porch. He gave a quick knock, then let himself inside. A blond blur nearabout tackled him, and it took Bernie a second to adjust to Milos’ hug. Milos was a little bit taller than him, and was currently rubbing the side of his cheek on the top of Bernie’s head, purring. “Hi Milos.” Bernie said in response, fond amusement tickling his heart. “I missed you too.” “Come on, Ingrid and I grabbed dinner!” Milos announced, and slipping Bernie’s bag off his shoulder the dragon practically dragged him to the table. “We’re having pizza again, and Ingrid let me get extra mushrooms!”
March 27, 2025 at 5:55 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
I love writing scenes where technology and fantasy beings collide.
#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
He stared at the phone screen, and then the small keyboard–there was no way this thing was made to write novels. Just the idea of having to cycle through letters made his thumbs hurt. “What is that?” He jerked in surprise, and the phone flew out of his hands like a slick bar of soap. There was a tickle of something soft against his earlobe, then Zmm leapt down from his shoulder to look the device over. Bernie rolled his eyes to his shoulder, afraid to move, and got a friendly, inquisitive proboscis to the cheek. “Don’t worry, Himaleem won’t hurt you.” Zmm said, though she sounded almost disappointed at the fact. Then, she asked again, “What is this?” Flustered, and not wanting to disturb the hawkmoth that was exploring his face, he said without moving his lips much, “A cell phone.”
March 26, 2025 at 5:12 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Sorry for the potato screenshot! The excerpt is also in the alt-text.
#writesky #writingcommunity #writingprompts #WIPsnips #amwriting #amquerying
She asked, “Would you like me to teach you the message spell, just in case something happens to your phone and you need help from Ingrid?” “I should be okay.” He hedged, thinking that was a good idea but worried that if he accepted her offer it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Everything would be fine, nothing would go awry, and why should he poke at the universe in the off-chance it was waiting to donkey-kick him straight into the figurative mud. “Okay, let me try again,” Alexa replied, lips set in a firm line with a stubborn jut to her chin, “you’re going to learn the spell just in case. I know you never got really comfortable with magic, but this is a good one to have in your back pocket.” “Won’t Isephus want me to share a secret with you?” Bernie asked warily. “Sure, but it can be something…boring. Not all secrets have to be salacious and dark.” She said with a shrug. “Uhhh,” He looked to the sky, searching for a boring secret, and finally came up with, “I think Milos has a cute butt.” Alexa snorted, “That’s not a secret, I saw you ogling him.”
March 23, 2025 at 3:13 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
March 22, 2025 at 12:13 AM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
Ah, possessive dragon boyfriends, there's nothing quite like them.
#WriteSky #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #WIPSnips #amwriting #romantasy
They exchanged a few slow, lazy kisses as they laid together, and Milos grumbled when Bernie went to sit up. "No." Milos muttered, and he yanked Bernie back against him. "Stay." "But I'm-" Bernie protested weakly, shifting in Milos' hold. "Don't care." Milos grouched, and held him tighter. "Stay. Mine."
March 21, 2025 at 3:45 PM
shelbytheauthor.bsky.social
For those who've never heard of a hummingbird hawkmoth:

Sauce: www.hummingbirdcentral.com/hummingbird-...
March 17, 2025 at 4:13 PM