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.

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 Series Prologue  

• Faeries vs Elves (In The Quaraun Series) A Pink Necromancer World Lore Post

• Worldbuilding MoonQuakes and Disabled Characters for Fantasy Writers

• Trigger Warnings: To Trigger or not to Trigger, that is the question

A Quiet, Relaxing Foot Rub 🌸🦄🌸

The lighthouse stood tall, a solitary sentinel on the edge of the icy world, its pale light casting long shadows across the snow-blanketed landscape. Inside, the air was warm, filled with the heady fragrance of roses, the soft glow of candles reflecting off the gleaming brass fixtures and casting gentle light on the delicate floral wallpaper.

In the small, cozy bathroom, Quaraun lay back in a clawfoot bathtub, his thin, frail body almost hidden beneath a blanket of bubbles.

The water was warm, perfumed with rose petals, and his silver hair, usually cascading down his back, was piled atop his head in a loose, messy bun to keep it dry.

The faint scent of roses blended seamlessly with the briny tang of the sea breeze that drifted in through the slightly cracked window, carrying with it the soothing rhythm of the waves crashing against distant rocks.

The room was bathed in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon sun, its warmth filtering through the gauzy curtains that fluttered gently in the breeze.

It was a quiet moment, wrapped in tranquility, the air thick with the gentle hum of contentment.

Quaraun’s delicate, pale feet rested on the edge of the tub, the water beneath them steaming in languid spirals. The heat from the water wrapped around his body like a soft embrace, the heat from his skin merging with the comforting warmth that filled the air. His toes, long and elegant, twitched slightly with each tender stroke of BoomFuzzy’s hands.

The movement was fluid, slow, like a dance in the quiet of the room, and Quaraun couldn't help but relax further, sinking deeper into the calm, luxurious atmosphere that surrounded him.

BoomFuzzy sat on a small cushioned stool beside the tub, the dim light casting a soft shadow across his strong features. His taloned hands were precise, moving with careful grace, a stark contrast to the raw power they held. He held a soft-bristled brush in his hands, its wooden handle smooth with age, and as the brush whispered over Quaraun’s skin, a shiver of pleasure rippled through Quaraun’s body.

The bristles swept over the sensitive skin of his feet in slow, deliberate circles, their soft rasp almost a caress. The touch was so gentle, so intimate, that it felt like a dream—a dream where time was forgotten, where only the warmth of the water and the closeness between them mattered.

Quaraun sighed, a contented breath that seemed to fill the room, his eyes half-lidded in complete relaxation.

The rhythmic brushstrokes, the scent of the roses mixing with the salt of the sea, and the soft warmth of BoomFuzzy’s touch were all he needed in that moment.

It was a rare gift—a rare moment of peace that felt as though the chaotic world outside had been suspended, leaving them cocooned in their little sanctuary of warmth and affection.

“I love you,” Quaraun said.

“Yis a strange Elf,” BoomFuzzy replied.

“Why? Because I love you?”

“Aye.”

“What is strange about that?”

“I be a Phooka, Love. We eat Elves. Not only a Phooka, but The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. I eat more Elves then most.”

“But would not eat me.”

BoomFuzzy took hold of Quaraun’s delicate crippled hand.

“Ya could not stop me if I tried.”

“But you would never try.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am certain.”

“There once was an old Elf with crippled hands–I regret very deeply what I did to that Elf. It is the only reason I didnae eat ya in Ivujivik, the day yar hands were crippled. It was the sight of ya crippled hands that stopped me. I didnae love ya then.”

“But you love me now.”

“Aye. I love ya now.”

BoomFuzzy’s large, strong hands were the perfect balance of power and tenderness. Each movement was infused with a care and devotion that was palpable, his fingers working with the finesse of a lover’s caress. He set the brush aside, his movements seamless as he reached for a pumice stone, its cool, rough surface solid in his grasp.

As he ran the pumice stone along the bottom of Quaraun’s foot, the sensation was slightly abrasive, yet somehow soothing, as if each pass of the stone was erasing the wear and tear of the world from Quaraun’s skin.

Quaraun winced slightly at the roughness, but soon relaxed as BoomFuzzy adjusted his pressure, becoming more assured with each gentle stroke. The discomfort melted away, replaced by a deep, almost meditative calm.

“Ye’ve got such dainty feet, Love,” BoomFuzzy murmured, his voice a low, rumbling whisper, rich with affection and teasing. The Scottish lilt of his words curled around Quaraun like smoke, a warm embrace that wrapped around Quaraun’s heart. “Like they’ve never touched the ground.”

Quaraun’s lips curved into a soft smile, a faint chuckle escaping him, light and airy as though he were floating.

“I do prefer to be carried, you know. Walking is such a tiresome chore.”

“Aye, but ye’ve walked many a mile in those wee feet,” BoomFuzzy replied, his hands continuing their tender work with the pumice stone, his tone affectionate, almost playful. “Ye deserve to be pampered a bit.”

Quaraun arched an eyebrow, his body relaxed but his wit sharp as ever.

“Just a bit?” he teased, his voice soft, filled with a playful lilt that only BoomFuzzy seemed to coax out of him.

BoomFuzzy’s laughter rumbled low in his chest, filling the space between them with a warmth that mirrored the intimacy of their shared moment.

“Maybe more than a bit,” he replied, his voice softening as he set the pumice stone aside and reached for a thick, fluffy towel.

The towel was soft, plush, like a cloud, and Quaraun couldn’t help but shiver as it brushed against his skin.

BoomFuzzy’s hands, tender yet sure, wrapped the towel around Quaraun’s foot, patting it dry with meticulous care.

Each toe was treated with such attention, as though BoomFuzzy were cherishing every inch of Quaraun’s body, savoring the intimacy of the moment. The towel absorbed the last traces of the bathwater, leaving Quaraun’s skin warm and soft, a faint, lingering moisture clinging to the tips of his toes.

In the quiet of the room, with the soothing scent of roses and saltwater filling the air, they shared a moment that was theirs alone—a moment where time slowed, and all that mattered was the warmth between them, the tenderness of their touch, and the quiet love that bound them together.

No words were needed; everything that was said had already been spoken in the language of touch, of care, of devotion.

The world outside could wait.

For now, in the gentle embrace of BoomFuzzy’s affection, Quaraun was content.

As he worked, BoomFuzzy’s thoughts drifted to the week ahead, the tasks that lay before them, the journeys they would undertake. But in this moment, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the simple pleasure of caring for Quaraun, of giving him this small moment of comfort.

When both of Quaraun’s feet were dried, BoomFuzzy set the towel aside and reached for a small bottle of oil. The bottle was made of glass, the oil within a rich golden hue, infused with the scent of rose and sandalwood.

BoomFuzzy poured a small amount into his palm, warming it with the heat of his hands before he began to massage it into Quaraun’s feet.

The oil was smooth and slick, and BoomFuzzy’s fingers moved with practiced ease, kneading the tense muscles, pressing into the tender spots with just the right amount of pressure. BoomFuzzy sat on a small, cushioned stool beside the tub, his large, deadly sharp taloned hands moving with careful precision.

Quaraun let out a soft sigh, his body sinking even deeper into the water, his head lolling back against the edge of the tub.

BoomFuzzy worked in silence for a while, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire in the next room and the soft sloshing of the water as Quaraun shifted occasionally, the oil making his skin glow in the candlelight.

BoomFuzzy’s fingers slid between each toe, rubbing the oil in, ensuring that every inch of Quaraun’s feet was tended to with the utmost care.

Finally, BoomFuzzy spoke, his voice quiet, almost as if he were afraid to disturb the peace of the moment.

“We’ll be heading to the market in town tomorrow, aye?”

Quaraun hummed in agreement, his eyes still closed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Yes. I need to get some more silver needles. I’ve been meaning to start a new tapestry.”

“Needles it is then,” BoomFuzzy replied, his hands moving up to Quaraun’s ankles, massaging the tension out of the slender joints. “And I’ll be needing more herbs for the apothecary. We’re running low on a few things.”

Quaraun nodded, the movement slow and lazy, as if he were drifting on the edge of sleep.

“We should also check on the traps by the river, while we are out that way. I am hoping we caught some fish. Your grilled trout recipe is divine.”

“Aye, we’ll do that,” BoomFuzzy agreed, his voice a soothing murmur as he continued to work the rose oil into Quaraun’s skin, his hands gentle yet firm, coaxing the tension from Quaraun’s body.

The soft glow of candlelight danced on the walls, casting flickering shadows that mingled with the mist of steam rising from the warm water of the bathtub. The scent of rosewater filled the air, delicate and sweet, mingling with the faint hint of lilac from the candles. The room was wrapped in a tranquil warmth, as if the world outside had faded away, leaving only the two of them in this moment of quiet intimacy.

Quaraun leaned back against the porcelain edge of the tub, his fragile body relaxing into the water, the rose-scented liquid lapping gently against his skin. His eyes were closed, his long silvery hair floating around his shoulders like a veil of silk. He let out a soft sigh, a sound of relief, as BoomFuzzy's hands, warm and steady, worked the rose oil into his feet, the tender pressure of each stroke coaxing out the tension that had settled deep in Quaraun’s bones. The oil was cool at first, but the heat from BoomFuzzy’s touch soon warmed it, spreading a soothing comfort through Quaraun’s body.

BoomFuzzy's hands were strong yet gentle, his fingers gliding over Quaraun’s skin with a careful precision, as if he were not only bathing Quaraun, but also cherishing him. The soft, rhythmic strokes of BoomFuzzy’s hands sent waves of relaxation through Quaraun’s body, easing the stiffness in his muscles, lifting the weight of the world from his shoulders.

There was something deeply grounding about the way BoomFuzzy cared for him—something that made Quaraun feel cherished, as though the love they shared was woven into every touch, every word, every gesture.

As BoomFuzzy’s hands continued their work, Quaraun felt the weight of the day melt away, replaced by the gentle warmth of his lover’s presence. The air was thick with the scent of roses and the quiet hum of their shared connection.

The soft flicker of candlelight cast a golden halo around the room, painting everything in a soft, ethereal glow.

BoomFuzzy’s voice broke the stillness, low and teasing, a playful note in his tone.

“Ye know, Love, yer feet are so perfect, I might just take them to the ball,” he said with a grin, his eyes glinting with mischief as he carefully massaged the tender arches of Quaraun’s feet.

Quaraun’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes fluttering open to meet BoomFuzzy’s gaze. There was a softness in his gaze, a tenderness that mirrored the warmth that swirled between them.

“Why are you kissing my feet?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but the curiosity was tempered with affection.

BoomFuzzy looked up at him, his lips still brushing over the tips of Quaraun’s toes, each kiss gentle, lingering with the kind of devotion only they could share.

“Ye’ve got such lovely feet, Love. Thought I’d show ‘em a bit of respect,” he said, his voice a playful purr, though the sincerity in his eyes spoke volumes.

Each kiss was a promise, a silent affirmation of how deeply he adored Quaraun.

Quaraun’s breath caught in his chest, his heart swelling with warmth as he watched BoomFuzzy.

There was no rush, no pressure—just a quiet moment of intimacy where time seemed to slow, and the world outside became a distant memory.

“Thank you,” he whispered, the words almost a breath, but filled with a depth of gratitude. “You’re the best lover anyone could ever have. I love how much you love me.”

BoomFuzzy paused, lifting his head to meet Quaraun’s gaze, his eyes soft with affection, the depth of his love for Quaraun shining in them. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from Quaraun’s face, his touch tender.

“Anything for ye, Love,” he murmured, the words low and steady, a promise wrapped in every syllable.

In that quiet, intimate space, surrounded by the calming scent of roses and the soft glow of candlelight, they found peace in each other’s company. The world outside was harsh and unforgiving, but here, in the warmth of their shared love, nothing else mattered.

Quaraun let his eyes close again, his body relaxing into the tub, trusting in BoomFuzzy’s hands, in his love, in the promise of a shared life that felt endless, filled with quiet moments like this one. A rare, precious moment in a world filled with uncertainty and danger, a moment where they could simply be, together, in the warmth and comfort of their love.

The 2nd 500 Story Challenge: Story #050 OF 500 | This work of fiction is a part of a long-running series of novels, novellas, short stories, and poetry. (Known as The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane, formerly known as The Twighlight Manor Series). I have been writing & publishing it since 1978 (50th anniversary coming in 2028!) spanning over 3k published works.

Other Stories Published This Week:

• The First Flicker of Dawn, a very short fiction storyA Pink Necromancer Fiction Shortmedium.com

• The Long Road, a very short fiction story A Pink Necromancer Fiction Shortmedium.com

• We’ll Rebuild, a very short fiction story A Pink Necromancer Fiction Shortmedium.com

Quaraun and BoomFuzzy

• On writing a Trans main character and the use of deadnames & old pronouns

The Pink Necromancer, Moon Elf silk weaver & merchant: Quaraun on Noodle Beach. His master chef Phooka turned Lich husband: BoomFuzzy with his 1968 VW Bus Beach Noodle Food Truck. And their on again/off again mad scientist Sheep Demon lover: GhoulSpawn with his 1974 AMC Gremlin time machine. Time Travel setting swings back and forth between 40th century Maine after a comet hit the moon decimating the planet, and the 1970s, Maine. Quaraun in the main character, he and BoomFuzzy are a married gay couple. GhoulSpawn is their shared live-in lover. Art by Wendy Christine Allen.

BoomFuzzy

Quaraun

GhoulSpawn and BoomFuzzy

GhoulSpawn

GhoulSpawn and Quaraun

Faeries vs Elves (In The Quaraun Series) A Pink Necromancer World Lore Post

The Pink Necromancer: The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane aka The Twighlight Manor Series

🌸🦄🌸 Furry Yaoi Fiction about Elves and Faeries and Satyrs and Demons and Unicorns and Technomancer Wizards and Liches living in a Lighthouse and surviving as Travelling Merchants and Food Truck Chefs in Cyberpunk Dystopian 40th Century Maine, and Zombie Apocalypse and Time Travel but it’s Slice of Life Vignettes of Mundane Daily Lives of The UnSeelie Court’s Royal Family trying to survive after a comet hit the moon and turned the Earth into a CyberPunk Ice-Age. 🌸🦄🌸

• eBook Editions from this series can be found on: GumRoad

• Kindle, eBook, Print Paperback, & full colour illustrated Hardcover Editions from this series can be found on: Amazon

Meet The Characters

• How did you build your audience?

Wendy Christine Allen, 2019, able to sit up in a chair for the first time in years, and able to raise up my arm and wiggle fingers. This was when I started playing Witcher 3 on Twitch as part of my physical therapy to regain finger movement. Playing Witcher 3 daily from 2016 to 2019, is how I regained the use of my thumb and two for fingers on my right hand... it is also why I stopped playing Witcher 3 in 2019, once I had strengthen my two forefingers enough to start typing again. Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the September 23, 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) If you are here looking for The Twighlight Manor series, The Crystonite Wars series, The Wild Years series, The White Rock Asylum for the Criminally Insane series, The Twisted Tales series, the Captured By a MerMan series, The Space Dock 13 series, The Kats of Planet Ptarmagin series, the stories about Miss Citten the Eel-Kat, or the stories about Etiole... ALL of those series were combined and consolidated into The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Pink Necromancer series in 2014, so ALL the different series, are now under one series title. List of the published titles still in print: The Index of over three thousand stories in The Pink Necromancer series What the series is about, for those new here: The introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series.

If you want some stories to get you started in The Pink Necromancer series, reading these first will give you a good introduction to the 3 main characters: BoomFuzzy's Chowder Dilemma If your ass ain’t freezing or your brains ain’t scrambled, you’re ain’t really trying A Very Important Clump of Grass The Washer Woman & The Fae Absinthe Slushies: An Ode to Frozen Green Fairy Wine Bone Dice Excited For The New Baby Zwodder: A Drowsy Stupid State of Mind Pink Sheep, Cheesy Burritos, and The Grim Reality of Zombies Open Grave The Phooka's Dragon School The Moon Goddess Laughs From The Rooftops The Jar of Pickled Toes The Book Burning Maggots, a You Can't Spell Hatred Without Red Hats A Day In The Life of a Bumbling Necromancer The Three-Seventeen Pee Expedition

My Elves Are JellyFish...and I asked Google AI and ChatGPT 5.6 what they thought of this.

As requested, my daily writing prompt series is now available print paperback editions on Amazon.

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.1: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.2: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.3: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.4: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.5: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

There are 20 volumes of this writing prompt series currently planned and in varying stages of finishing, hopefully all 20 will be published by the end of 2026. I likely will do a 2nd series of writing prompt books in 2027.

Health update: August 4, 2026 - in recovery for 6 months+ (at least until mid-January 2027...all book and video game releases are pushed back at least 6 months) see video below for why...

@eelkat health update #maine #disabilityawareness #wheelchairlife #wheelchairvlogger #multiplesclerosis ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

Update Sept 3, 2026:

I am able to get around enough to take Koko to dog park... today is 29 days since getting out of hospital. My diet is still mostly liquid, but im eating some solid food again, but its like rice or soft mushy baby food type stuff because I still can not chew yet, though I can swallow again. My jaw is still not functioning good so im having trouble talking still. So there's been slight improvement to my mouth, throat, and jaw, but, zero improvement to my eye, which is a major concern, be Im almost fully blind right now. im legally blind since birth in my left eye, so I have no ability to fall back on using my left eye. My right eye is the one injured and my vision in it is "40% decreased" according to my doctor, but it wasn't good vision to begin with, and right now my right eye is not much different from my legally blind left eye. Which I why I have to have someone drive my car for me instead of me driving my car myself right now, which is very frustrating, because, being a female, I had to fight for over twenty years to be allowed to drive. I started sneaking out at age 31 and dressing as a man to go to Old Orchard Beach high school to get a ged, because us females are not allowed to go to school. And i was 37 years old when snuck out to the DMV and got a driver's permit and started going to college. I was 42 and 8 months pregnant when my family found out I was going to college and thats when I was punished by the backhoe driving over my house and my spine broken with a golf club and my baby born right then and killed with same golf club. So it's very frustrating now, so soon after finally being able to drive , to now not be able to drive because of an eye injury, especially after 14 years of being paralyzed from the golf club and not being allowed to have a wheelchair, again, because i am female and we females are simply not allowed to do anything. I hate the culture I was born into. I wish I had the freedom to go to school and drive a car the way American women do. I wish having my spine broken with a golf club and my baby killed with a golf club and a backhoe driven over my house was not how men in my family punishment women in my family for learning to read and write. Its so frustrating not being able to to drive again, so soon after 14 years being paralyzed, and being paralyzed by the golf club was the punishment for getting a driver's license back in 2013 after 30 years of men not letting me have one. I hate my family's culture and how they treat us women.

I get so sick of Americans telling me how they wish they could be a Gypsy… they are either misogynist woman hating pigs, or delusional idiots who haven't got a clue how shittily we Gypsy women are treated by Gypsy men, because no one in their righ mind who knows anything about Gypsy culture would ever want to be part of it. I hate that I was born a Gypsy. 

update sept 7, 2026

"You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me?

I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking.

So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me.

see video below for more information: 

@eelkat "You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me? I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking. So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me. #mainelife #biddefordmaine #maine #disabilitytiktok #Biddeford ♬ original sound Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

update Sept 15, 2026:

I have some slight movement in some my fingers again again after over a decade being paralyzed

you remember how I used to be a professional doll making, pattern designer, and embroiderer, back before I became paralized and before my son was murdered and being the backhoe drove over my house?

all my equipment, sewing machines, ect were all destroyed by the backhoe driving over my house, and I have been quardepelegic for over a decade because of it so could not use my hands to sew or draw or embroider, and so only continued to do my writing of novels since then because I could do that with dragon dictation software,

well, since 2016, I been playing Witcher 3 and don't starve video games on twitch livestream, one hand two fingers, as part of my therapy to regain nerve and muscle use of my fingers, and now after 10 years of that, I have somewhat more movement in my fingers and im thinking maybe I can try to do embroidery and doll making again, but not sure, anyways, now im rebuying all of my sewing and embroidery equipment that the backhoe destroyed when it drove over my house, and hopefully I can use my hand enough to embroider again.

waiting for stuff to arrive in mail, so soon I should find out if ten years of twitch gaming has given me enough muscle strength to use my fingers to embroider again.

update to the previous video, answering viewer question about lack of hospital vs broken spine

Wheelchair Fundraiser... I need to upgrade to a power wheelchair, the manual one just isn't enough anymore. But the power wheelchair is $25k. Yes, twenty five thousand dollars. Wtf? I can get a car for a quarter that price, why are wheelchairs so damned expensive? That's more money then I make in five years, so I need to start a fundraiser for it.

Books By Wendy Christine Allen
Currently Available on Amazon Kindle:

Index of the Quaraun novels, novellas, & short story collections on Amazon

And GumRoad:

Index of the Quaraun short stories on GumRoad

On Medium:

An Index of the more than TWO THOUSAND Quaraun Short Stories on Medium

(NOTE: a $5 or $15 per month paid subscription required to access stories on Medium)

On Vocal:

Index of the Quaraun short stories on Vocal

On Notd:

Index of the Quaraun Short Stories on Notd

On OnlyFans:

Index of the Quaraun Short Stories on OnlyFans

(NOTE: a $4.99 per month paid subscription required to access stories on OnlyFans)

Pink Necromancer Merch: On CafePress:

An Index of the Quaraun Merch on CafePress

Pink Necromancer Merch: On Zazzle:

Index of the Quaraun Merch on Zazzle

Not Quaraun:

This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.

All Rights Reserved.