look just becausee you dont get his (context clues i am not maintagging this or risking it showiing up via tumblrs garbage search system) sense of humor doesnt mean hes an 8 year old. im losing my miind out here.

Where Loyalties Lie

(Technoblade X reader) 

Request 3: Can we get a little angsty fic or headcanon of Techno trying to get the reader to leave L’manberg?

Requested By: Anonymous

~~~

     “Tubbo please take a deep breath,” You followed him around the rubble as he paced restlessly. 

     “I’m president of a crater (Y/n)!” The boy pulled on his ears with a loud whine, “What am I gonna do. I can’t believe Wilbur blew it up-” He felt your hands touch his own and gently pull them away from his oversensitive goat ears. “What am I gonna do? I-I’m a kid…” You frowned, moving to cup his cheek with your hand. He nuzzled into it desperately, welcoming the comforting touch of someone who he considered family. 

     “You’re going to get through it because you’re strong.” You told him, “and so brave little ram.” He flushed pink letting out a whine of protest especially because he was still surrounded by most of his friends. 

You watch as Quackity walked over to the both of you and placed his hand on Tubbo’s shoulder squeezing it, “We’ll rebuild. We’ll be right behind you Tubbo.” He smiled at the kid and you couldn’t help but smile over at him. 

     “Thank you both. Truly.” 

There was one thing that had you were worried you may come to regret, and that was not taking Technoblade’s hand as he fled from the country. You were close almost touching it, he looked like he wanted to beg for you too but one desperate cry from Tubbo had you pulling away. He looked heartbroken but at the same time, you saw understanding in his deep red eyes. 

Family came first. 

That day he pulled you close pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be back for you.” 

You murmured a soft I’m sorry, turning to find Tubbo to make sure he wasn’t injured or dying. The thoughts of the festival replaying in your head, you couldn’t go through that...not again especially because now Tubbo was officially on his last life. Tommy couldn’t fathom how you didn’t blame Technoblade for what happened that day, but to you, two things were clear: one was that Tubbo didn’t blame him which made it easier on your end to forgive him; two Schlatt was manipulative and overwhelming as fuck you can’t blame someone for something they were peer pressured into doing. Speaking of Tommy you ended up finding Tubbo and him in the rubble that day, the taller male was pressing cloth to Tubbo’s bleeding arm desperately, when you took over and Tommy seemed grateful. 

However, you had to push your possible regrets aside and focus on the new nation you’d help build, and build it you did. You worked endlessly for months on end creating a lovely new nation for people to live in, Tubbo had dubbed it New L’manburg. You felt his pride and happiness, he just loved seeing everyone together again and happy once again. Finally, the server felt somewhat normal after all that destruction, even if there was a Techno-shaped hole in your heart. Things changed rather quickly when Tubbo was, in your eyes, manipulated to exile Tommy by Dream. You had tried to argue for the boy saying that not only was he Tubbo’s friend but just a kid. You were shut down harshly by not only Dream but Tubbo as well, the look in his eyes was filled with so much loathing and frustration. It’s the first time he ever snapped and was harsh to you, you felt your own frustration bubble up in your chest. You turned on your heel and marched back up into your house, you were not going to put up with this behavior. When you slammed the door shut, and turned around to find Technoblade standing in your living room,  with your cat purring fondly on his shoulders; you almost screamed.

     “Heh- why are you scared it’s just me?” The hybrid complained his nose scrunching up, “Don’t be cringe- oof-” Techno grunted as you threw your arms around his waist, the man flushed to the tips of his ears and looked away from you, Taffy hopped off his shoulders disgruntledly, “Yeah, yeah, I missed you too.” He pet the top of your head tenderly and you looked up at him with a smile. 

     “What’re you doing here Tech? If Tubbo finds out he’ll have your head.” 

     “Then I guess we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t find me then huh?” He mused lips, quirking into a smile, and you nodded in agreement. “Other than that just running some errands. I’m in retirement now you know. I have to say that ‘New L’Manburg’ is certainly a name.” He did air quotes around the name and you nudged him, 

     “Be nice.”

     “Boo Cringe. I’m a Blood God starlight. I don’t do nice.” 

     “Bullshit,” You punched him in the arm, “Tea?” 

     “Please.” He cracked a smile as you walked over to your tea kettle heating the water and grabbing some tea bags. 

     “So, you came here to run some errands huh? I almost thought you missed me?” Technoblade shuffled a little behind you, how could you read him so perfectly? It was complete and utter bullshit. You heard him click his tongue distastefully behind you and you couldn’t help but smirk cheekily,

     “Get off my back woman.” He stated gruffly as you laughed, “but I guess I do miss you a little bit.” You smiled fondly and softly cooed at him and he let out another scoff, 

     “A little bit?”

     “What is this interrogation? You a cop now?” You placed his tea in front of him and he took a sip,

     “Yeah, we’re gonna need to do a strip search. Drop your pants.” Technoblade choked on his drink, face turning the darkest shade of red you’ve ever seen from him. You howled with laughter sliding down in your seat beside the man. 

     “I changed my mind. I didn’t miss you at all, you’re a terror.”

     “You love me, admit it.”

     “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He murmured looking at you with a sudden softness that was out of character for him. You didn’t notice the change but it was there, oh if only you knew how much of what you said was true. He did love you. He ran his tongue across his teeth and reached out to interlock your hands within his own. 

     “Come live with me.” 

     “Tech…”

     “I’m in retirement now. I’m going to get some turtles hopefully, maybe some other pets while I’m at it. There’s a lot of room...It gets lonely all alone you know. It’d be nice to have you there with me.” He watched hesitance flicker across your face again just like the day Wilbur blew up L’Manburg. Your thoughts went to Tubbo and how much he needed you, especially now that Tommy was exiled. However, you were also brought back to a few moments ago where Tubbo snapped at you for trying to help. You took a ragged breath and pushed his hand away, he frowned sadly bringing his hand back down to his lap. 

     “I need to be here for Tubbo. He’s a kid Tech...way over his head. Dreams sniffing around him like a dog looking for his next victim to manipulate. I can’t let that happen, not to him. I know he’s President of this nation and you hate him for that, but he’s my brother and I love him. He’s a tough kid with a lot of fire, but I can’t just leave him in the dust. I love you,” You reached up and cupped his cheek and Technoblade felt his cheeks burn at the implication, “but I can’t leave until Tubbo is safe.” 

     “I’ll convince you one day.” Technoblade shot back even though his heart ached, that you wouldn’t be coming home with him. But Technoblade wasn’t known for giving up. He was stubborn as hell, he’d win you over yet. You’d come home with him, he’d confess to you and he’d make you the happiest person in the world. You just...didn’t know it yet. 

     “I’m excited for the day you do Tech.” You snickered softly, you both were startled by harsh knocking on the door.

     “That’s my cue. See you soon Starlight,” Technoblade hummed slipping right out the window, you watched him go longingly. You shuffled towards the door and opened it slowly, on the front steps stood Tubbo who was rocking nervously on his feet. 

     “Hi…” 

     “Hey LR...you okay?” Tilting your head to the side,

     “Is LR supposed to stand for little ram?”

     “Problem?”

     “No…I suppose not.” He murmured before clearing his throat and straightening his back, “I wanted to talk with you.” 

     “Oh?” You raised an eyebrow watching him nod his head sternly, you walked outside and closed the door behind you so you could lean on it. “Shoot,”

You watched as Tubbo swallowed thickly, “First off I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. It wasn’t fair of me to snap.” He watched you nod a little urging him to continue, “however, I am the President now and you have to respect my authority.” Eyebrows furrowing together in frustration you opened your mouth to counter him but he held up his hand, “Dream has an idea of how to rule. He can steer me in a better direction-”

     “Pardon me?” You let out a disbelieving laugh, “A better direction? Tubbo, are you forgetting everything we all fought for, we fought him for independence. He killed us!” 

     “He might’ve changed!”

     “He exiled Tommy!” 

     “He deserved it!” Tubbo shouted back as your nose scrunched up, “He’ll steer me in a direction that you never could!” He snapped before realizing what he said, he slapped his hands over his mouth eyes widening to the size of saucers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that-” 

     “Go home Tubbo.” 

     “(Y/n) please,” He reached out towards you and you held up your hand, 

     “Go reset the day. You need rest,” You frowned, turning back into the house “see you tomorrow.” Inside the house you shut the door on him and slid down onto the floor, you brought your hands to your mouth and swallowed thickly. A part of you wished Technoblade was still here just so he could tell you to get over yourself, he wasn’t skilled in the art of comforting others, but he could make you laugh. To keep yourself sane you reminded yourself that Tubbo was a child and needed you now more than ever, especially if he thought Dream was dishing out good advice. But you were hurt and a selfish part of you wished you could just go live in retirement with Technoblade and not worry about the new country forming, but you couldn’t ditch Tubbo. 

Running a hand through your hair you sighed loudly, one might wonder what exactly could Tubbo do to make you listen to Technoblade’s offer. Honestly, you had no idea if anything would make you do that unless of course they just started executing people or something ridiculous like that. 

Restless was how you’d describe the rest of your night, you tried to sleep but after a few hours of tossing and turning you gave up. You decided to make yourself a ‘healthy’ midnight snack, a small bowl of mac & cheese, you didn’t care, you were sad. You sighed softly scratching behind your cat’s ears, “It’s just you and me against the world Taffy isn’t it?” Her purrs rang in the air as she snuggled against your hand, distracting you just enough to swipe a noddle from your bowl. “You fat bitch!” You hissed as she ran off back up the stairs, you leaned back in your chair and sighed, literally nothing was going your way today. Just as you finished up your snack you heard a soft ping upon your window, turning to the sound you noticed your neighbor Phil awake in his house. He held up a hand and waved at you through it, and with a small smile, you waved back. He shuffled back into his home, I guess you both were insomniacs together, Techno knew how to pick a certain type of friend it seemed. 

You walked back up to your bedroom and slid under the covers once more, maybe you were wrong and things were going to get better. 

Months went by and nothing seemed to change much to your disappointment. Tubbo and you were still a little rocky, you had forgiven him for his harsh words but he always put Dream’s and even Quackity’s opinion before your own. When you came back from visiting Niki one day and saw wanted posters of Technoblade all around the country you almost had a stroke. You confronted Tubbo about it and only half answered you before running off when Quackity called him. That worried you, he normally didn’t like lying, especially not to you. 

The same day you were walking into the market to get some fresh fruit when a hand shot out from the wanted poster and pulled you behind it. You were held flush against someone’s chest who chuckled gruffly, you recognized that chuckle anywhere. “Techno! What’re you doing here?” You asked looking up at him with eyes filled with concern, “don’t you know you’re a wanted man?”

     “I think that just makes this all the more exciting.” Techno mused running his fingers through your hair, “Plus it’s not like anyone here can catch me.” 

     “Wrong I could catch you.” He dared to laugh in your face, 

     “Sure you could, and I’m half sheep.” Technoblade mused and he watched you huff cutely, “Don’t get all huffy at me you know I’m right.” You only waved him off, “seriously though I’m here to do some trading with Phil.”

     “Oh…” You gave a nod, “Will I see you more frequently then?”

     “You could see me all the time if you moved in with me.” Techno joked again and was surprised to see your face fall a little. Are you serious? Was he getting you to crack? “Starlight?” 

     “Ask me again in a few months and I might say yes,” You teased brushing the question off swiftly, Technoblade didn’t pry but he could tell you were almost convinced. Just what was going on in this country to make you want to leave your little brother? “Now shoo, go see Phil before he gives up on you.” You gave him a little shove and he stumbled off with a huff sticking his tongue out at you in the process. 

After that encounter, you didn’t run into Technoblade for another very long stretch of time. About a month or so after that encounter, Tubbo had shown up at your doorstep a complete nervous wreck. He begged you to help him, claiming he needed diamonds for an upcoming project and wanted you to acquire them for him. “Tubbo I don’t understand why I need to go on this trip? I have diamonds I can just give you. You know I don’t care.” 

     “But I feel bad about it,” Tubbo argued with you “please just do this for me.”

     “You know I’ll do anything for you. If you want me to get them this way I’ll do it. I should be back tonight is that okay? Do you need them sooner?” Tubbo looked relieved as he took your hands in his own, 

     “No tonight is perfect!” The boy chirped sounding more like himself than he has in months, you couldn’t help but smile. You ruffled his hair a little before kissing his forehead, 

     “Then tonight you shall have them, Little Ram.” 

Tubbo helped you gather the materials you needed for a trip down into the mines, Tubbo even gave you some fire resistance potions. You thanked him for the potions before putting on your armor and heading down into the tunnels. As you were down in the mine the concept of time was always an illusion, so when you finally found diamonds for Tubbo and you left the cave you were surprised to see the sun was just setting. You hummed softly to yourself walking back into New L’manburg excited to show off to Tubbo you couldn’t help but wonder what he needed them for in the first place. However, when you entered town you were greeted by a gathering going on at the center. Everyone seemed to be there clad in what looked to be butcher’s outfits, your vibe was immediately thrown off eyebrows furrowing in concern. Quackity was giving some sort of speech and that finally drew your eyes towards the podium, locked inside a cage was a fuming Technoblade. You rushed towards the group, pushing past Ghostbur and a blue sheep, and grabbed tightly onto Tubbo’s arm. 

     “Tubbo what the fuck is happening?” He tensed turning towards your face. It was no secret that you and Techno were friends, this wasn’t good at all.

     “(Y/n)! You’re back early!” He spoke nervously rubbing his hands together as Quackity turned towards you, 

     “Welcome back!” Quackity hopped off the podium with a smirk, “Fundy grab them.” 

     “Quackity hey wait a minute-” Tubbo started as Fundy roughly grabbed onto your arms pinning you in place, 

     “Ow hey! Watch it! Let go of me!”

     “Get your hands off them!” Technoblade snarled nostrils flaring grabbing the bars of the cage tightly. 

     “Quackity you said we’d leave them out of this!” Tubbo argued and your jaw dropped staring at Tubbo, “You promised!” 

He waved Tubbo off with a scoff, “they’re just as bad as Phil, Tubbo. She needs to be punished. We can't play favorites when trying to run a country. We’ll execute Techno then deal with the other traitors.”

     “Execute?” You choked, “you can’t be serious! Tubbo you cannot be serious, since when are you okay with public executions?” He refused to look at you, his hair covering his eyes, he only nodded his head in Quackity’s direction. 

     “Do it.” 

     “Tubbo!” You shrieked watching Quackity grin maliciously, moving over to pull the lever that would allow the anvil to fall and crush the man below it. 

What happened next was a cluster fuck, someone began trying to set off TNT, and Quackity pulled the lever. It fell rapidly towards Techno and he pulled something out of his pocket, in a flash of bright colors and bursts of light Technoblade was ripped apart and pulled back together again. He was alive, Technoblade really doesn’t ever die. He hopped on top of the anvil and jumped the bars of the cage, Fundy had long since lost his grip on you, he noticed Dream ushering him inside a cavern and he paused a moment. The hybrid turned towards you holding out his hand one final time, the world seemed to stop a moment and it was just you and him. His face held a desperate look in it, almost pleading you to take his hand within your own. You flashed back to the day Wilbur blew the country up, Tubbo called your name you glanced over your shoulder once towards Little Ram. You reached into your bag and dropped the diamonds you found for him on the ground, you grabbed Technoblade’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Technoblade smiled and yanked you forward, leaving a heartbroken Tubbo in your wake.

PLEASE tsung nsfw alphabet i am on my knees begging

your wish is my command ✨

A = Aftercare

Tsung loves aftercare, though that doesn’t mean he’s always the best at it. Sometimes he’s too overbearing, or hugs you too tight after something more intense, but for the most part he’s very sweet and will dote on you hand and foot. 

B = Body Part

He thinks his hands are the most impressive part of him, which isn’t saying much. In truth, it’s just one of the few things about him that he doesn’t think are ugly or useless, since he’s got skilled fingers and strong muscles that have built up over the years. He likes your smile the most, whether it’s because it arouses him in the moment or not. 

C = Cum

His cum is pearly and oddly not that bitter, though it tends to spurt out in globs that make quite the mess if he doesn’t aim quite right. He loves it the most when you let him do it all over your face, and the expressions you make when he dirties your beautiful skin--and even when you whine about him getting it in your hair. 

D = Dirty Secret

If you’re sharing a bed, then there’s very little chance that you’ll be undisturbed while you sleep. Whether he takes pictures of you, talks to you, or gets himself off using your hand or your mouth if he thinks he can risk it, you’ll be at the mercy of Tsung’s desires the moment you close your eyes. 

E = Experience

He hasn’t really got any. He’s had crushes and a girlfriend or two when he was young, but he’s been out of the dating scene for most of his life and has never really had a steady, long-term relationship before. And with his parents being the way they are, he’s never gotten to choose who he’s dated, which makes being with you all the more exciting for him. 

F = Favourite Position

Any position where he can be ridden is preferable, though it’s embarrassing for him to admit and he probably won’t mention it the first few times you have sex. But he likes it when you have the control, and you can choose to pin his wrists down and make him do as you wish if you like, which is definitely a fantasy he adores but keeps entirely to himself. 

G = Goofy

It’s not his natural go-to, but he can be pretty silly if the moment presents itself. If something happens to break the mood or you get a little giggly, he’ll let any seriousness slide by and tease you a bit or crack a little joke just to make you laugh. 

H = Hair

He’s got a bit of hair, but it’s nowhere near enough to need more than a trim every so often. He doesn’t even really have leg or arm or chest hair, so what he does have is so thin and wiry that it barely even counts. 

I = Intimacy

He always tries to be romantic, selfless, and loving, and that certainly extends to your intimate times. If he isn't pleasing you right he wants to know, and if you're not in the mood after awhile he wants to know that, too. Your bedroom is an open line of communication, which Tsung takes great pride in. 

J = Jack Off

He’ll masturbate about once or twice a week when you’re together, mostly just on occasions when you’re apart or you’re sleeping and he doesn’t want to wake you--if he’s just obsessing over you from afar, though, he could do it anywhere from 1-3 times a day depending on how often he’s thinking of you. 

K = Kinks

He likes to partake in voyeurism, orgasm denial, forced orgasms,  panty sniffing, somnophilia, and dominant/submissive dynamics. 

L = Location

He likes doing it in the shower. The cleanup is easy and the hot water cascading down his skin is a nice change, though he just has to get used to avoiding accidents by slipping or moving you up too fast. 

M = Motivation

Watching you sleep is a huge turn-on for him, as guilty as he feels admitting it. The sight of you all tuckered out and peaceful as you cuddle into your pillow makes him want to do unspeakable things to you--things that might make you sick to your stomach if you ever found out. 

N = No

He won't hit, cut, burn, or bruise you intentionally during sex. Anything that causes you harm, even if he might be tempted by it outside of the bedroom, won't even be considered by him while you're sharing an intimate moment. He just doesn't think there's a place for it during such a vulnerable time together. 

O = Oral

He likes being forced to go down on you, especially if you're shoving his head down yourself and getting on his case if he doesn't use his tongue properly. But sucking him off is just as enjoyable, if not moreso when he gets to see how sweet and sweaty you look trying to deepthroat his pathetic, oversensitive cock.

P = Pace

He usually starts off fast, but slows it down to try and savour it until he starts approaching the end. By the time you're ready to cum, he'll have abandoned his attempts to take it all in and let his hips do the talking for him. 

Q = Quickie

He likes them, surprisingly. It’s less the act itself that he finds so appealing, but more the fact that he has someone he loves that he can do it with. Besides, getting so hot and bothered that neither of you can stay your lust enough to wait is extremely appealing even to the stiffest people, so he’ll be eager to indulge whenever you have an inkling towards it. 

R = Risk

He's willing to try something new if you are, and he can take a lot before he hits his limit. Whether it involves physical pain or emotional strain, his resilience is high enough that you can dare to try a lot of things if you want to introduce them into the bedroom. 

S = Stamina

He's got enough stamina that he can manage the exertion of a few rounds, but after that he'll be toast until he can have some rest or even take a nap in between. Just give him time to recharge, and he'll last for a long time. 

T = Toys

Despite wanting a fleshlight to aid his unquenchable fantasies about you, he's never been brave enough to buy one. But he'd be okay with you owning some or buying them for the bedroom, as long as they're not too intimidating for someone like him. 

U = Unfair

He doesn’t tease you too much because he just likes to focus on your pleasure, and whether what he’s doing is exciting you in the ways that he hopes for. If he practices beforehand and the mood is right, he might be a little more teasing than he normally would, but for the most part it doesn’t happen very often. 

V = Volume

He's quiet in the sense that he's not a screamer or an especially loud moaner, but he whines and begs a lot which can grow into a steady stream of babbling that you won't be able to stop. Lucky for you, he won't mind all that much if you decide to gag him to keep your business to yourselves--and maybe you can tie up his wrists to the bedframe, too, just to add the icing on top. 

W = Wildcard

The first real, precious treasure that he’ll have added to his shrine will be a pair of your underwear. He’ll have laid them out on a silken cloth below the photos he’s pasted up of you, and though he’ll force himself not to use them and risk getting cum all over the fabric, he’ll make it a ritual to bring them to his face and sniff them before he starts his day. If he’s especially lonely or misses you, he’ll even test the boundaries with a gentle lick against the little wet spot you’ve left in them. 

X = X-Ray

He’s about 6 inches long, a bit on the thicker side but not by much. Since he doesn’t have too much hair down there, it’s easy to see how pale his skin is compared to how red and flushed his cock looks, especially towards the tip that feels hot to the touch. He curves up a little, too. 

Y = Yearning

His drive is pretty solid. He can at least handle a session once a day, but if you can egg him on and keep him going then he can probably keep up a few more times for a couple days before he gets worn out. 

Z = Zzz

He can stay awake for a fairly long while after having sex the first time, and he'll often wait until you fall asleep before he follows close behind. He likes to make sure that you're comfortable and cozy before he dares to let his guard down. 

Starker Smut: Spilled Lemonade

This was a fic I was writing for an event last summer (prompt was lemonade) but hadn’t finished in time so it was gathering dust 😅 Finally got it done so it’s my first offering in my 3k celebration. 😊

Summary: Peter’s a good omega. He takes care of his daddy and daddy takes care of him. They have such a good relationship but he’s glad that he gets to choose his own mate and not his father. Or so Peter thinks until one of his friends, another omega, comes sniffing around his alpha.

Notes/Warnings: intersex omega, unspecified age but probably high schoolish?, incest, normalized sex in public, jealousy, hole spanking, creampie, one sided Harley/Tony

WC: 6734

Ao3 Link

💗💗💗

It was 3 AM when Peter carefully snuck out of his daddy's bed.

The older alpha's arm was like dead weight across his belly but with a little wiggling, Peter was able to squeeze himself out. His entire body was aching, mainly his thighs and wrist, but overall, it was a lot better than usual.

Plus, with his daddy asleep, he was able to sneak himself some cookies as a reward for being a good omega. He had a whole bowl of them and a tall glass of milk as he went to soak in the jacuzzi.

He knew he should've showered off the mess before getting into the jacuzzi… There was alpha come and omega slick wetting his thighs, but he allowed himself to be bad just this once.

His daddy, Tony Stark, was going through one of his quarterly ruts. Peter, being his only son and an omega, was helping him through it. 

At least, it was summer vacation so he didn't have to miss out on school. He was one of the top students and while missing a few classes wouldn't have cost him anything, the homework would've been annoying to catch up on.

His daddy's ruts took up a lot of his time and he needed to be present whenever his father fell into a mood. Ruts were normally two to three days of intense sexual frenzy with an alpha fucking an omega and breeding them up… But between father and son, Tony never took him in that manner.

No, all Peter did was… help. 

He was happy to help and while the beginning was rough because of his inexperience, Peter was much better at it now. He knew just how to relieve his poor daddy, whether it was sucking on the alpha's cock or jacking him off with his hands…

Or there were times where Tony just needed a soft, pliant body to rub his cock against… Peter didn't mind stretching out on his tummy, legs spread while his daddy rutted his thick alpha cock against his ass or maybe between his round, soft cheeks… Sometimes, between his thighs. 

It felt nice, after all.

What they did really depended on his alpha's mood, but they never went beyond that. Peter was still a virgin and his daddy was a perfect alpha gentleman, never pushing for more even when he was in a rut. He touched Peter's ass and his pussy plenty of times to return the favor but he'd never actually put his cock inside of Peter's holes, aside from his mouth.

He loved his daddy and his daddy loved him. Things were simple and they both got something out of it.

He had just taken a bite of his third cookie when his father walked in.

He hadn't bothered to put anything on. Clothing, even those of the finest quality, tended to irritate an alpha's oversensitive skin while they were in a rut.

It took two lazy, confident strides for Tony to reach the jacuzzi and one small sigh before he joined Peter in the warm water.

The smaller omega should've expected it but he still squeaked when his daddy picked him up and settled him on his lap.

"Dad…" Peter complained when Tony nipped the cookie from his very fingers.

The alpha's cock was settled against his ass, previously soft but rapidly swelling once the feel and scent of an omega reached his nose. 

Peter bit his lip but like a dutiful omega, he shifted in place so that it could poke between his thighs instead of rub against his ass. He shuddered when the thick length slipped against his pussy.

"Do you think it'll be done in time for my pool party?" Peter asked while he started to stroke it with one hand.

Tony grunted in reply, leaning back against the jacuzzi wall as he let his son work him over. For his father, verbal replies were a bit harder to give during rut.

"Yeah," Tony grunted softly, "Tonight."

Peter smiled and let go of his daddy's cock. Before the alpha could protest, he got on his knees and started to rub it against himself. His actions were met with another grunt and a large hand settling on his hip to help keep him steady.

It didn't take his daddy long to release and Peter himself moaned when he felt the alpha's knot fill beneath his hands.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Tony murmured when he pulled Peter close, kissing his forehead.

"You're welcome, daddy," Peter chirped back.

He nuzzled against the alpha and relished the close bond they had.

It was as Tony said. 

His rut ended that night so Peter was looking forward to the next few days of recovery. He contacted all his friends to confirm that they'd be attending his pool party and made sure that those who needed picking up would have a driver sent to them.

It wasn't a big party but it had all his closest friends and some of the members of his school decathlon team. No one could refuse a party that was being held at the Stark residence.

Good food, good music, good company.

Peter had only been concerned that his daddy's rut would make it difficult for him to set up. But now that it was done and over with, all plans were moving full speed for the weekend.

Then… Then a thing happened, a thing that Peter wasn't particularly happy about.

He was over at Ned's house, MJ listening to music in the background. It was right after his dad's rut had finished so he still smelled strongly of his father. Not that that was a problem.

He was his daddy's only omega so how else was his father supposed to get through his rut?

It wasn't a big deal but as soon as the third of their friend group arrived, it was called out in an entirely strange way.

Harley Keener had transferred to their school a year ago. He was a loud and obnoxious omega who didn't let any alphas, school or otherwise, scent him despite not having an alpha father around. 

Peter had known about Harley's crush on his daddy since the very beginning but he never paid it much mind. Plenty of omegas had crushes on his father but none of them were so brazen and bold about it in front of Peter.

"Is your dad gonna mate you?" Harley bluntly asked, making Peter sputter into the coke he was drinking.

MJ threw a pillow at him but Harley remained undeterred as he stared at Peter with intense blue eyes.

"What– Why would you even ask that?" Peter demanded once he recovered. "Who asks that kind of question?"

Peter's reaction seemed to satisfy Harley for some reason. He went back to idly writing down something in his notebook.

"You smell like him," Harley pointed out like it wasn't obvious. "Usually that means your alpha wants to keep you for himself."

"Or," Peter emphasized, "my dad just had a rut and needed me to help him. It's not a crime to help my alpha when he needs me."

Harley frowned a bit. "He could always ask another omega…"

Peter rolled his eyes and answered, "Dad's too busy to go chasing around omegas. He didn't even ask me the first time. I found him working through it while he was in the lab."

"I always thought he'd mate you, too," Ned pipped up.

"That's… stupid," Peter pulled a face at his best friend. "I just– I love my dad but not… Not like that. And he hasn't mentioned mating either so… So, I'll probably find an alpha of my own someday..."

He glanced down at his fingers and noticed how they were scrunching up his shirt.

"My dad's awesome and he wants me to be happy," Peter said adamantly. "There's nothing wrong with… with that. With um… Alphas and their omega kids… It's just compatibility… But  my dad's never pushed for us to mate."

Harley nodded, satisfied and for a moment, Peter thought the conversation would settle down and go back to something normal. Then the other omega got this glint in his eye that Peter knew spelled trouble.

"Maybe I can offer myself," Harley said casually with a smirk. "I can even become your stepmom if Tony really likes me."

This time, it was Peter's turn to launch something at Harley, another pillow that was deflected but it got his point across.

"Stay away from my dad, you perv," Peter growled, little omega fangs bared. 

Harley only grinned in reply.

It was a joke so it was okay. Harley didn't make much sense to Peter most of the time but he was a decent friend. He just liked teasing people a lot by saying ridiculous things he never really meant. He often did pranks or just… things that he thought were funny so Peter just chalked it up to one of his quirks.

Peter didn't let Harley's casual use of his father's first name get to him. Tony instead of Mr. Stark. That was annoying, but Peter ignored it.

Their hang out day continued normally with a movie and popcorn. Peter didn't think of Harley's jokes for another minute and with the pool party coming up, it quickly faded to the background.

He didn't think about how his daddy didn't look at other omegas. He didn't think about how he'd never thought of looking at alpha boys his age.

His daddy was the only alpha in his life and when he compared his father to other alphas, they all just seemed lacking. Like pale imitations of what a good alpha should be. They were scrawny and filled with hot air, boasting about omegas they'd had and talking about things they knew absolutely nothing about.

The bragging was annoying. Peter was certain their cocks and knots were tiny, pathetic things compared to his daddy.

An alpha bragging about never touching an omega's cocklet? Or never pleasing an omega with their mouth? He didn't even have a bonded alpha and Peter knew he couldn't, wouldn't, mate with an alpha that didn't do any of that. His daddy's hands on him… and his daddy's mouth… Peter refused to settle for less.

Such thoughts made the young omega frown and wonder if he was doomed to never find an alpha that was even a quarter as amazing as his own father.

They were distracting thoughts that he pushed aside. He wasn't planning on leaving the nest anytime soon so what did it matter? He still had the pool party to think about and he spent the next couple of days focused on that and that alone.

The pool party was a success. 

Peter got to show off his new bathing suit. It was a two-piece for male omegas, but he didn't care much about wearing the top. They were tiny little things, little triangles of fabric just barely big enough to cover his pink nipples. They'd probably call more attention to his chest compared to if he went without it.

Besides, his main reason for getting it was the bikini bottom in red and gold. It resembled a tiny, tiny skirt with just enough length that it covered the soft little bulge his cocklet made at the front. It was perfect.

There was food being barbecued and grilled by hired staff nearby. Fresh lemonade was being served in tall decorated cups at the beverage table. There were garlands of colorful flowers hanging on the tables and the small, shaded area near the pool.

The music was turned up, summer in its every beat. Someone had hooked up their phone to the surrounding speakers and judging by the songs, he figured it was MJ.

There were a couple of adults that tagged along with their kids, taking advantage of the stark hospitality. He saw a couple of them engage in unnecessary small talk with his dad, thanking him for the invitation and just being friendly in general. 

They left the kids to do their thing though. Floaties and pool noodles of all sizes and shapes were to the side and readily available.

It was a huge pool. Most of the adults were enjoying the jacuzzi situated next to the pool. Tony, himself, was lounging on one of the pool chairs and only wearing swimming trunks. His tanned legs were stretched out, flip flops hanging off his feet as he basked in the sun.

And of course, he wore his signature shades so Peter couldn't be sure if he was resting his eyes or watching the party around them.

Either way, Peter popped on over with a cold beer in hand and kissed his daddy's cheek before he ran off to join his friends.

Peter was a good omega, after all.

They played a couple of rounds of water chicken. Peter won some as well as lost a couple. It was all fun and games.

They were just about to start a game of Marco Polo when Peter noticed their team was missing someone. Rolling his eyes, Peter pulled himself out of the pool to search for Harley. The other omega had excused himself to use the bathroom some time ago and had never rejoined them.

Peter was about to walk into the house when he caught sight of his target. 

Harley was talking to his dad.

With a slight frown, Peter watched what was going on. The older omega was sitting on the edge of Tony's pool chair, a pink lemonade in his hand. 

Peter could only see the side of his face but the way Harley leaned over his father was causing some emotion to burn inside him. Pool water dripped on Tony's bare chest and Peter's eyes narrowed before he quickly made his way over.

Harley was offering the pink lemonade to Peter's dad and whatever irrational feelings had been brewing, erupted at the gesture.

Unceremoniously, Peter knocked the lemonade out of Harley's hands.

The entire thing flew out of the other omega's grasp and for a moment, Peter was grateful that they hadn't used glass cups. Harley hadn't even noticed him but he whirled to face Peter. 

"What the fuck, Peter?" Harley demanded, face turning a blotchy red at the interruption.

"We're playing a game," Peter bit out. "Marco Polo. Let's go."

Shifting Harley's attention away from his daddy made the uneasiness subside just enough that Peter could act.

He grabbed the other omega by the arm and attempted to drag him towards the pool, but Harley refused to budge.

"I don't want to play," Harley huffed but before Peter could respond, Tony interrupted.

"You're both making a scene," Tony told them, sitting up. He had nudged his shades down a bit, looking at the quarreling omegas with an unreadable expression. "Go on, Harley, enjoy the pool. Think Peter wants to talk to me about something."

Peter gave a bright smile as Harley pouted but reluctantly got up. The omega turned that bright smile towards his father but the look in Tony's eyes–

"Peter." Peter had never heard his father use that tone before. Low, almost close to something like a growl.

A shiver raced up his spine, goosebumps breaking out along his arms.

"Wanna tell me what that was about?" his daddy asked.

It was only then that Peter realized that the lemonade had spilled on his dad. Sticky, silvery trails over his chest and his previously dry swim trunks were damp with the spill.

Peter huffed and wandered closer, claiming the spot Harley previously had.

"I didn't mean to spill it on you," Peter mumbled, tone almost apologetic but not quite there. "But Harley's just being annoying. He keeps saying all these weird things and I know I shouldn't have but–"

He made a sound of frustration, bit his lip, and then sighed.

"I'm sorry, daddy," Peter ended up saying. 

He knew he was wrong to have done that. Harley was a guest, after all, and his daddy had taught him to be polite.

Tony was quiet for a moment but when Peter peeked at him, he had taken his sunglasses off. There was a curious expression on his face before his daddy smiled indulgently.

"Harley had some interesting things to say," Tony said casually. "Something about how he had his first heat recently and he's not adjusting to toys very well."

Peter frowned. Harley had probably mentioned something like that the last time they hung out. Peter had even sympathized because he had plenty of toys but he just couldn't seem to scratch that itch without help. His daddy, though, was more than capable of taking care of him when he whined about it. But Tony was his daddy so he had all the right to know about Peter's heats.

"That's… That's not something an omega should be talking about to any random alpha," he complained. 

The idea of Harley talking about such an intimate topic with his dad… Nope, Peter didn't like it. Not at all. 

Seriously, what was Harley's problem?

"No, it's not," his alpha agreed, "Unless the omega wants to start a heat contract–"

"No!" Peter immediately rejected the idea. 

His daddy was his alpha and he didn't want one of his classmates trying to take his daddy away.

"Pete–" That tone was a warning. Peter's voice had gotten a bit high in volume and the simple word had attracted the attention of some nearby guests.

"What about my heat contract?" Peter demanded.

Tony quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Sweetheart, if I recall," his daddy said, patiently, "you like your toys just fine."

Peter flushed at the reminder.

During his last heat, his daddy had worked him open for hours before finally letting him have his practice knotting dildo. The omega had literally wailed at the penetration, small hips pushed back while he begged for more. 

It had felt utterly perfect… The stretch of the toy and his daddy's alpha scent clouding his mind.

"Maybe… Maybe it's different now," Peter muttered.

And maybe, it was. 

He couldn't look his daddy in the eyes. His face was flushed. How could he explain that he didn't like the idea of another omega taking his place without sounding like a brat?

He'd never allow himself to think about taking his daddy's knot. Their cycles and how they handled them were normal routines that maybe… maybe Peter just hadn't considered that they would change.

That as he got older, he would want more.

"Different, how?"

"Maybe…" Peter shuffled closer. "Maybe I want daddy as my heat alpha."

More silence. Peter was tense as he waited for his daddy's reaction. When he couldn't take it anymore, he glanced at Tony from beneath his lashes.

His daddy looked… pleased?

"You know I'd do anything for my baby boy," Tony said. "We can talk about it after the party, baby. Your heat isn't for another two weeks, anyway."

It wasn't a rejection! 

Peter beamed at his daddy and threw his arms around him in a hug, regardless of the drying sticky mess the spilled lemonade made.

"Thank you, daddy!" Peter hummed then pulled away. He gave his alpha a sheepish grin. "I should go get some napkins or a paper towel… I made alpha all messy…"

He made to get up only to have his daddy's keep him in place. Puzzled, he turned back to his alpha, squirming a bit at the way Tony's hands settled on his waist.

"You were still pretty rude to your friend, baby," Tony reminded him. "Think we need to do something about that."

Peter bit his lip. He didn't think saying Harley deserved it would win him any points with his father.

The alpha gave a low chuckle and then tapped his lips with a single finger.

"And judging by that cute little pout you got, you don't feel very apologetic either," his daddy sighed.

His pout only deepened as Tony pointed out the obvious but Peter knew he was in the wrong so he gave a reluctant nod.

"I'm sorry, daddy," Peter admitted.

"You're not yet," Tony observed, "But hmm. I think–"

Peter squeaked as Tony easily manhandled him onto his lap like a little pup, face down and backside vulnerable. The omega found himself laid across his father's lap, legs kicking out in surprise. 

"Daddy–" Peter complained but then fell silent when the alpha's warm palm settled on his ass.

"Don't wanna play, sweetheart?" His daddy asked.

A slow rub of his palm over the omega's clothed bottom had Peter reconsidering. If he turned his head… A glance around the pool party showed that most of the guests were still doing their own thing. But if Peter did this now… It was inevitable that they'd draw everyone's attention.

Peter felt a rush of mixed emotions. Excitement. Embarrassment. He knew if he really didn't want to, his father would save this for another time. But… His cheeks burned when he caught sight of Harley watching them.

He wanted to flash his fangs at the other omega but instead, he wiggled in place. He could already feel his daddy growing hard beneath him. These kinds of things always excited his alpha daddy… always excited him too, now that Peter thought about it.

Like father, like son…

"I'm– I'm sorry," Peter murmured, going limp in Tony's lap.

A soft rumble answered him and he gasped when his father tugged his bikini bottom down, just low enough to expose his cheeks.

"I believe you, baby," Tony told him, rubbing and squeezing in preparation. "I'll believe you more after you apologize when I'm done with you."

The first swat on his ass had the boy jolting in surprise. It wasn't even all that hard, just the initial impact had startled him.

In the beginning, Peter kept his whimpers at bay. As Tony continued to spank his ass, it brought more and more of their guests' attention to their private little area. They were never so nosy as to outright stare, but Peter knew they were watching.

It… It excited him. His quiet whimpers came out as soft little moans the harder his daddy spanked him.

"It isn't punishment if you like it, kiddo," Tony said above him. 

"Sor– 'm sorry…!" Peter squeaked but it was futile. His cocklet was hard now, too.

His alpha chuckled, and the deep rumble only coaxed more heat into the boy's belly.

Tony paused his spanking and Peter squirmed, the only response he could give that didn't outright beg his daddy for more.

"Such a pretty pink," his daddy admired above him. His large hand rubbed the area of impact, mixing soothing heat and the dull ache into warm pleasure. "It's like you were made for me, baby."

His breath hitched when he felt his father spread his cheeks apart, exposing his pink little hole. His pussy was already wet. There was no doubt in the omega's mind that there'd be a little stain over Tony's swimming trunks.

Whether it was from Peter's slick or the abundant amount of precum his dad's cock was producing, it didn't matter. They were making a mess together.

What Peter didn't expect was for the next impact to be directly over his hole. He gasped, too surprised to let out a proper sound. Tears actually prickled in the corner of his eyes as shock and heat rocketed through his smaller frame.

"Daddy–"

"Too much?" His alpha purred.

Peter shook his head wildly, curls bouncing and tears flung off his cheeks. Nothing was ever too much if it was his daddy.

Another smack right over his hole and the omega cried out, thighs tensing, pussy flooding and dripping with even more slick. His father's cock felt rock hard beneath him now and his knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the pool chair.

Every impact of his daddy's hand had the boy crying out, voice muffled in an attempt to avoid attention. He was almost certain everyone was watching now but he was too caught up to look. 

He squirmed and wiggled, cried out and moaned as the spanking continued. His muscles tensed and jumped beneath his daddy's palm. His daddy varied the spanks and kept him guessing as to where the next hit would land. 

It was exciting and with every exhilarating touch, Peter's mind floated closer to that soft, perfect hazy world where it was only him and his daddy.  It helped that Tony had started to murmur words of encouragement. He called Peter a good omega for taking his punishment so well.

Good omega... Good boy… Peter was caught in a mix of sensations until the pain bled into pleasure and it was white-hot and so good...

When it finally stopped, Peter's cheeks were wet with tears but the omega felt better than ever. His alpha pulled his bikini back over his pink ass but his bottom still felt hot and sore. 

His daddy helped him sit up and he practically melted in Tony's embrace. Warm, loving hands cleared the tears from his eyes and his alpha's gentle purring had Peter sighing in contentment.

He did it. He had taken his spanking like a good omega. 

They weren't done, yet.

The delicious ache had him squirming and his daddy's cock pressed against his wet pussy like a promise. He whined, rubbing against it as he pressed tight against the alpha.

"Daddy– 'm sorry," Peter told him, brown eyes pleading and needing to hear his daddy say those words.

"I know, baby, I know," Tony reassured him. "My baby's a good omega, the sweetest, most perfect omega…"

His touch felt soothing as he gently rubbed Peter's sore bottom. His words, too, soothed the omega's hazy mind as they settled in deep and comforted him.

"You want daddy to bring you inside, sweetheart?" Tony asked. "I'm sure your friends won't mind."

His friends… Peter nuzzled close but glanced at where he had left them in the pool. Once he turned his eyes towards them, it was like the rest of the party came back into focus.

Guests talking. Laughter ringing. The scent of barbecue and hot dogs. The warmth of the sun on his face and back.

"M okay." He melted against his daddy, resting there. His daddy's hard cock against him was a warm, soothing weight. He knew his daddy was more than fine just holding him.

He felt the soft purr rumble beneath his cheek as Tony acknowledged his words. The skin was warm and… sticky.

The lemonade. His fingers ran over the dry sticky part and he looked at his daddy, a lazy smile on his face.

"Alpha…" he breathed. "Wanna clean you up, alpha…"

Whenever they got intimate together, whether it was Peter's heat or Tony's rut, cleaning up always meant feeding Peter every drop of cum his father spilled so it wouldn't go to waste. Peter loved the saline taste of his load and he also loved nursing on Tony's cock when he was insatiable with heat. He often made a mess during his heats, slick dripping all over Tony's fingers while he got Peter off.

Peter always… always cleaned up after them.

And what he offered now was no different.

"You sure, baby?" Tony nudged him, "I know you're shy, especially with your friends here "

"Not shy," Peter refuted stubbornly. Some of the haze had cleared, the omega's fiery personality shining through.

He had just chased away one omega and declared his daddy as his alpha… His sore bottom reminded him of what being rude would incur, but he wasn't being rude now. He was just… Just staking his claim.

"Daddy's my alpha," Peter said resolutely. As he tossed a look at Harley, one sharp fang peeking out.

Tony chuckled and gripped Peter's face to turn those defiant eyes back towards him.

"You wanna show them, baby?" Tony asked.

And even though Peter actually did feel a bit shy, he nodded firmly before leaning forward and brushing his lips against his alpha's in a sweet but chaste kiss.

No one knew his daddy better than him and Peter planned to really rub that in.

As soon as the first kiss ended, he initiated another. He invaded his daddy's space, slender chest pressed against the alpha's larger form. He shuddered when he felt his daddy tweak his nipples, quick flashes of brilliant pain that had his mouth gasping open. It was his daddy way of teasing and warning him to behave, a two in one.

Peter was pliant and willing when his daddy took over. His tongue slipped between Peter's lips and the boy went with it, offering his warm mouth for his daddy to do with as he pleased. Soft, sloppy kisses followed.

He actually whined when Tony pulled away, dragging his heavy eyelids up to stare at his father.

"There's my sweet omega," Tony rumbled, dark and as smooth as sin. "Go on then, baby, clean daddy up. You made such a mess because you got jealous, didn't you?"

Peter didn't like the reminder that he was jealous. Didn't like it because it was true.

So, he didn't say a word, he only settled himself between his alpha's knees with pouty lips and pink cheeks. Tony's cock tented the front of his swimming trunks, an intimidating bulge that had Peter's mouth-watering. He was right about earlier, too. His slick had seeped through and formed a dark spot over the fabric. It only served to draw the eye in that direction.

Some part of him didn't want the others, Harley specifically, to see his daddy's cock, but another part preened that this was his.

He ran his hands from Tony's collarbone, over the bit of chest hair, black and greying, and all the way down to his belly. He gripped his daddy's cock with both hands over the cloth.

"Daddy… I'll take care of you," Peter promised, clever fingers running over the length, outlining the sheer girth of it with his small hands.

"I know you will, kid," Tony murmured before leaning back, legs shifting apart to give his son more room.

Peter settled onto his belly, legs kicking in the air as he uncovered his prize.

His daddy's cock was everything an omega would want. It was everything another alpha would be envious over. His daddy… There was a term for what kind of alpha his daddy was. It was an old term that no one really used anymore, but Peter had heard it once upon a time.

A prime. A stud. The best of the best. His daddy was in peak condition and with his girthy cock and fat knot, Peter was the envy of his class. It'd make sense for Tony to have a harem of omegas to service him but he only had Peter.

And that was how Peter wanted it to stay.

The omega's mouth watered as he drew closer. He hefted his daddy's balls in one hand, gently playing with them just how Tony liked. They felt heavy and full in his hand, the skin soft. He knew it'd feel tight once his father got close and he was looking forward to milking them dry. He'd give his daddy some comfort then.

He knew he was doing it right when he heard his daddy give a low groan of appreciation.

Pink lips closed over the swollen tip and when he looked up, warmth flooded his cheeks. His daddy was watching him, dark brown eyes taking in everything.

His breathing picked up with the realization that everyone was watching them.

But all that mattered was his daddy.

His daddy had already been rock hard so he didn't get a chance to work him up to it. It didn't happen often, but there had been a few times Peter was able to suck on him while he was just starting to get hard. It was always an experience.

From being able to fit his daddy's soft cock in his mouth and then feeling it thicken and grow with each thrust… His lips would drag against the length of his daddy's cock and when he became fully erect, the stretch was almost unbearable. But Peter knew exactly what his daddy liked and how to do it just right…

He maintained a good suction on his alpha's cock, taking the length in with only a little bit of struggle. He knew what got his father going but there was still plenty of practice to be had, especially when Tony's size was just on the good side of too much.

Peter tasted the tart sweetness of the lemonade he'd spilled and the omega made it a challenge to lick every drop from his father's skin. It didn't take long until every sugary hint was gone and then there was only the clean taste of his daddy's cock and the bitter, salty taste of his precum.

When he pulled back, his hands worked on the exposed inches, never leaving a single inch of bare skin unattended. He felt the still soft bulge of his father's knot as his alpha got closer and closer to the edge.

He had yet to be able to successfully take his father's knot in his mouth but he wasn't going to try that today.

Before it could inflate, Peter let his daddy's cock pop out of his mouth.

"Daddy– I want…" he couldn't even say it. 

His cheeks were flushed as he scrambled back up onto his alpha's lap. He rubbed his poor, neglected pussy against Tony's erection, biting his lip so he wouldn't whimper from the sheer need wracking through his body.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" Tony asked, voice tight with restraint. 

His daddy's voice was ragged with hunger. Peter nuzzled close even as he reached back, angling his alpha daddy's cock right where he wanted it.

"Daddy knows," Peter groaned just as he nudged the tip against his pussy. "Daddy wants it, too…"

His stupid bikini was in the way though and he desperately tried to slip it to the side so his daddy can push in.

The alpha's cockhead strained against his bikini, pulling it tight. Peter's squirming allowed the tip to nudge right over his opening and he moaned, hips twitching as he tried to get his father's cock inside. The fabric stretched, even allowed Tony's tip to nudge inside a bit before it couldn't go any further.

"You wanna do that here, sweetheart?" Tony teased. "Give up your first time with a real alpha right here?"

His hands felt so warm and safe on his hips, thumbs brushing against his soft belly in the center. "Right here in front of all your friends?"

Peter moaned and clutched his daddy closer. He fumbled with the stupid bikini, dragging the edge to the side. He was so eager to show his cute bikini off and now he was cursing it for being in the way.

Finally, the part that was keeping his daddy's cock from slipping inside him was tugged to the side.

"Yess…!" Peter hissed as he sank down on his father's cock.

It was nothing like his toys. Warm, hard living flesh pushed inside his needy pussy and Peter's back arched as his knees weakened.

He felt his daddy's warm breath on his neck and he shuddered violently. Daddy just happened to breathe right over his mating gland… The one spot that his father hadn't set his teeth into.

Doing so would claim Peter as his. His omega to fuck and breed, to take as his mate.

Peter's fingers ran through his father's hair, clutching the alpha as he started to eager bounce on his cock. At this point, he barely felt how hot and sore his ass felt from the spanking. All he felt was the pleasure of being filled and that pleasure doubled, tripled, because it was his daddy pushing into him.

"Look at you go, sweetheart…" Tony groaned, leaving a bruise right on his mating gland. "So eager to take your father's cock…"

Tony's arms wrapped around his small waist. The boy whimpered when Tony actually used some strength to hold him down, keep his hips in place as he started to fuck into him.

"Shh– shh, let daddy help, Pete," Tony growled in his ear. "None of your toys are as big as daddy. Gotta open you up… gotta fuck you loose so you can take the knot…"

"K-knot…?" Peter echoed. His face pressed against his daddy's sweat damp neck and his pink tongue dipped out, licking the salt from his sun warmed skin.

"Mhmm…" the alpha enforced with a harsh thrust. "Gonna knot you right here… Think that'd be a good punishment to add, hmm? Being so rude to another omega… Spilling lemonade all over your alpha… Yeah, sweetheart, I think letting daddy knot your sweet pussy is just the thing you need…"

Peter went limp in his arms. He let his daddy drill into his wet pussy, that thick alpha cock spreading him apart and filling him up so good. It was brutal and perfect, his alpha daddy using him just like Peter craved.

Every moan and every cry his daddy pulled from his lips were well earned. Peter was being fucked like a rag doll, body being manhandled easily and pulled up and down with no resistance. His dad wasn't even like this during his ruts though that might change now.

Everything would change with this new element in their relationship.

Peter couldn't find himself to care or worry about it. How could he when his entire body was being flooded by pleasure, his pussy squelching as his father's cock fucked in and out… In and out…

"O-Ohh… God…!" Peter squealed when his daddy's cock finally bottomed out. He felt so full! Felt like his daddy's cock was right there nudging against his womb…

"Daddy– dadddy…" Peter cried out, grinding on his father's cock and body shuddering with how good it felt.

"Yeah, that's it, baby," Tony purred into his ear. "Almost there… almost there, sweetheart. Just squeeze down on daddy's cock, just like that–"

Peter's body knew what to do and was already doing it even before Tony said the words. His insides massaged the alpha's length, squeezing and clutching in such a rhythmic motion. 

Milking his daddy's cock so that the knot would pop.

"O-Oh!" Peter gasped when he felt it. The knot was growing...

"Good boy…" his daddy purred. "Such a good son… Taking care of daddy's knot…"

Then Peter's inexperience overruled his instincts as an omega. The sudden pressure inside him, the knot swelling and catching, had the boy shuddering and trying to escape this weird, exciting feeling.

His father's hands held him securely, making sure that the knot wouldn't be tugged as it was growing.

Peter whined and fell limp in Tony's arms.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Tony reassured him, "Just take the knot, baby… I know you can do it… Daddy's gonna fill you up..."

The soft little whimpers fell away. Warmth surged into his body and Peter clutched onto his daddy. His daddy was… Filling him up… Coming inside him…

After that, Peter could barely keep his eyes open. The surge of warmth filling him up kept going… It'd continue for as long as the knot was firm and plugging him up.

His eyes barely fluttered open when Tony stood, supporting his weight and pulling Peter's legs so they wrapped around his waist. He saw flashes of his friend's faces as they entered the house but the only one that remained with him was Harley's. The omega had rolled his eyes in exasperation but Peter had only returned a bone-deep satisfied smile.

Tony settled them in his bed and their combined scents only had Peter purring in contentment. And when his alpha started grinding into him, Peter only sighed, back arching and lips gasping open in pleasure.

Outside, he can still hear the music blaring and the sound of splashing from the pool. He couldn't smell the barbecue or the sweet tart scent of lemonade being served.

The knot softened and he felt the rush of come spill out of his abused pussy only to be fucked back in, his daddy's cock not softening and eager to spill another load.

He had an alpha to please and Peter knew everything he needed to in order to please his daddy.

52 Project #26: Marc Snowfrolic and the Quest for Biscuits

Look at him. Isn’t he the most dumbass-looking wolf ever? I love him. He’s the perfect faceclaim for Marc Snowfrolic.

I published part of this about 3 years ago. Finally done!

***

Marc Snowfrolic wanted biscuits.

It was really odd for him to want biscuits at a time like this. Also, very inconvenient, because he was a wolf, and couldn’t bake his own biscuits like he could have if this had been last Thursday. Not that he actually knew how to bake biscuits, but on Thursday he could have read a recipe book, and used his bipedal stance to stand at a kitchen counter and opposable thumbs to use tools and pour ingredients and put cookware into the oven and take it out, with appropriate oven mitts on. Today, and for most of the rest of the month, he couldn’t do any of those things, because he was a wolf.

If anyone in the town of Rema had been able to bake biscuits right now, Marc could have gone to that person and made his desires clear. He could read the Bisquick logo even though he was a wolf. There wasn’t any in his own pantry, but he was sure someone in town had some, and had some guesses as to who. And if, say, Heather Digswell or old lady Janice Eyehowler had some Bisquick in their pantry, he could go to their houses, knock on the door, walk into their kitchen when they let him in, go grab the Bisquick out of the pantry with his teeth, bring it to them, and point to the picture of biscuits on the back, and they’d get the idea. They’d be happy to make him some biscuits. If only they weren’t wolves too, right now.

Normally, he didn’t want biscuits when he was a wolf. Bread products were not usually the favored cuisine of wolves. He liked steak, and venison, and chicken, and elk, and pork, and mutton, and swordfish, not that he got much swordfish because Rema wasn’t particularly near any oceans but when he and his pals pooled their money and special-ordered it with 2 day delivery so they’d get it while they were still human, it was still delicious a few days later when they were wolves. About the only kind of meat he didn’t like when he was a wolf were crustaceans, because it was just too damn hard for a wolf to get the good meat out of a crab, or peel a shrimp, and honestly if he wanted to eat bugs there were plenty in Rema just waiting to be hunted. But today, he was really jonesing for a biscuit.

He trotted over to Ken Mayor’s house. The wolves didn’t generally spend a lot of time indoors, but Ken was an exception. Inside, the older wolf had a large flat-screen television, and a gigantic keyboard that he was typing on. Marc could almost make out the words on the television, but trying made his head hurt. He could see well enough to tell that Ken was writing an email, though.

Originally, the town of Rema had been fully self-sufficient. Wolves didn’t need much in the way of shelter or clothing and were quite capable of finding their own food. What little they couldn’t supply for themselves, they traded for with the humans, offering meat and pelts in exchange for things like nails to make the houses they built for their human days sturdier. But once the humans invented the automobile, it had been only a matter of time before they brought a road to Rema. And with roads had come salesmen, and more exposure to the modern conveniences the humans loved, which the people of Rema found pleasant for themselves on human days as well. Freezers, for example. Freezers were great, but they needed electricity, and both the freezer itself and the electricity that ran it needed to be paid for. Then there was the government, demanding that everyone in Rema pay taxes. And so forth.

Pelts and meat weren’t going to pay for all of that. But the citizens of Rema could get to places in the mountains that the humans couldn’t, and never had been. They mined for gold in places the humans had never managed to mine out. Wolves could dig, and humans could put up structures that would keep wolves safe while they did it. Everyone in Rema did shifts at the gold mine, and of course, they supplemented their income with their sales of meat and pelts from their hunts. All of the funds that anyone in the town owned were pooled to make them easier to manage. Wolves were not good at math.

Ken Mayor was the mayor, and had been the mayor for twenty years, not because he was a big or powerful wolf – he was actually smallish, and rather quiet. But he had a remarkable talent. He could read, do math, and, on a sufficiently large keyboard, even type, in wolf form. Back in the old days he’d used a typewriter, carefully, and sent a lot of letters, but he’d taken to this new Internet thing like a duck to water. He managed the town’s funds, paid the electric bills and things like that, and kept in contact with government officials via email to make sure they left Rema alone, or that if they had to come here they only came on human days. He had a teletype phone, like deaf humans used, but he’d made some kind of arrangements with the company that provided the service to make it clear to them that he was mute rather than deaf, because the wolves could understand human speech just fine even though they couldn’t speak it. Lately he was all excited about some kind of new software that would give him a cartoon human avatar when he talked to humans on the phone that ran over his computer, with a voice program that actually sounded human when he typed sentences into it. Mostly.

In the language the people of Rema used when they were wolves, Marc whined at Ken. “I really want some biscuits. Can I have money to go to a bakery and buy biscuits?”

Ken looked at Marc disbelievingly. “First of all, town’s thirty miles away. It’ll take you over an hour to get there if you run all the way, longer if you walk. Secondly, you can’t walk into a bakery and ask them for biscuits. Thirdly, if you act too smart, humans might get suspicious.”

“But I really, really want biscuits. Come on, Mayor.”

Ken growled. “Snowfrolic, you’re being an idiot. Which isn’t unusual for you, but you usually manage to keep your idiocy within a reasonable range. This is a totally ridiculous request. You understand that, right?”

“Absolutely,” Marc assured him. “I am being a grade A idiot here. But you can’t imagine how badly I want those biscuits. I will get in a car and drive to town if I have to.”

“How?” Ken asked flatly.

Marc stood up on his hind legs. He was a large wolf, six and a half feet long, so on his hind legs he was easily taller than most humans. “Trust me, I can reach the pedals and still see over the dash. And if I put my paws through the holes in the steering wheel, it’s not hard to steer the thing.”

Ken facepawed. “You’ve tried it.”

“Why do you think I have a 4 by 4? The snow in the mountains sticks around a lot longer, but you can’t bring warm towels to dry off in and those little hand warmer things for your paws and a nice blanket for sleeping in if you just run up the mountain.” His wolf name might be Snowfrolic for good reason, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate human conveniences for warming up after a good long day of playing in the snow.

“How have you never been pulled over?”

Marc shrugged. “I drive at night and I follow the speed limits. Not a lot of human cops around here anyway.”

“And if I don’t give you the money to go to town and buy biscuits, which you can’t do because no one will sell anything to a wolf, how does the fact that you’re willing to drive your car to town change matters?”

Marc grinned triumphantly. “Because no one will ever suspect a wolf of taking a getaway vehicle! So I’ll just steal the biscuits, and then drive off.”

Ken face-pawed again. It was a very human gesture; most of the people of Rema wouldn’t use it in wolf form. There were always rumors that Ken’s father was actually human, not one of the men of Rema. Marc wasn’t sure he bought it; half-human children were supposed to be human most of the time and wolf only on the change-days. But Ken making human gestures when no one else in Rema did while in wolf form was kind of hard to explain otherwise. Also, there was that whole reading and typing and doing math thing.

“Have you considered asking Jeff Leclair or Mandy Gruenwald or someone like them to bake you some biscuits?”

Marc had rather forgotten that there were, in fact, humans in Rema; human spouses were problematic in the sense that they produced kids who were wolf when Remans were human and vice versa, but they were very important for teaching Reman children how to talk like humans. Remans didn’t start being wolves most of the time until they hit puberty.

He whined a bit and pawed the floor, head down with embarrassment. “I don’t want to ask them for favors. Bob Pigeonchaser isn’t in town this week and everyone else with thumbs is someone’s wife or husband, and, well, you know…”

Remans were notoriously territorial. This often translated to jealousy. Saying hi to someone’s human spouse or inviting them over for barbeque on human days was one thing, but asking them to bake you biscuits was entirely too intimate a favor to ask. And right now, the only half-human in town, Bob Pigeonchaser, was out of town, because he was in human form when it wasn’t a full moon and he could drive wherever he wanted and buy his own biscuits.

“So you’re insisting that you have to go buy some?” Ken sighed. Wolves were not supposed to sigh; a huff, a snort, those were wolf expressions, but not a sigh. Marc didn’t mention this; Ken was oversensitive about his overly human behaviors. “I am going to have to go with you to keep you out of trouble, aren’t I?”

Marc growled slightly. “I’m not sharing my biscuits, dog. You can buy your own.”

“I’m a wolf. I don’t eat biscuits. Maybe you’d do well to remember that you are also a wolf. Wolves don’t eat biscuits. Or drive cars.”

“I’m a wolf and I drive a car, so why can’t I be a wolf who wants a biscuit? I mean, it’s not every day. I’m just really jonesing for one right now. One of those soft chewy ones with a ton of butter inside. Or maybe crisp and flaky. Man, I’m torn. No point in wasting honey butter on a wolf tongue but oh, man, can you imagine what a biscuit would taste like with bacon inside?”

“This is ridiculous but your mother would kill me if I let you run off in a car, and steal biscuits, and get your fool self thrown in a pound or shot by Animal Control or some overzealous human with a gun. So I guess I’m going with you.”

“As long as you don’t eat my biscuits, we’re cool.”

***

The thought occurred to Marc later that maybe, what worked really well in the dead of night when he was driving up a mountain nowhere near human habitation, just possibly, could have been expected to not work nearly so well in broad daylight as he drove toward a town full of people.

“Goddammit, Snowfrolic, that’s a cop! You just blew past a cop at 85 miles an hour!”

“Lots of people go 85 miles an hour around here,” Marc pointed out.

“Yes, but none of them are wolves. And I thought you said you drive the speed limit!”

“I really want that biscuit.” Marc kept his eyes on the road, not glancing back at the blue and dark yellow lights strobing on the car behind him. (He knew perfectly well that the dark yellow light was actually red, because when he was human he could see the color red, but to his wolf eyes it just looked kind of brownish.) “Anyway, he probably didn’t even see I was a wolf. He just wanted to make quota.”

“Yeah, well, he’s gonna see you’re a wolf now.”

“He’s gotta catch me first!” Marc sped up. He’d never tried to push the SUV past 100 mph. Maybe today was the day to do that.

“What? No! What the fuck are you doing? You can’t outrun cops!”

“How much do you wanna bet?”

“I don’t want to bet! They’ll call for backup and they’ll be out here with guns!”

“They won’t have silver bullets, though, I bet.”

“That doesn’t mean it won’t ruin your car and hurt like fuck!”

The cop was gaining on Marc. This was actually exciting. Like a hunt, although he was the one being hunted, which made it slightly less fun. It would be much more entertaining to be the one chasing the cop car.

Hmm. That was a thought.

“Marc, for gods’ sakes, slow the fuck down and pull over! We can both jump in the back seat and pretend the driver bailed on us.”

“Naah, I’ve got an idea that’s more fun.”

“I do not like the sound of that.”

Marc swerved around a rocky outcropping and brought the car to a screeching halt in the truck pull-off right on the other side. The cop car zoomed past, unable to stop or pull off in time.

“He’s gonna turn around and come back. You’ve pissed him off. Just watch.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m counting on it.”

Marc opened the car door, awkwardly – he always hated this part. Getting his paw under the lever to pull it and open the door was never fun; wolf forelegs just didn’t bend the right way. The door swung open and he half-tumbled out, rolled about in the dirt a bit, used his back legs to close the door, and then trotted around to the other side of the car, where he lay down in the dirt of the pull-off and watched from under the car.

The cop car, predictably, came back. Police shoes, attached to police uniform pants, approached the car. “Get out of the vehicle with your hands up!” the officer yelled.

This was Marc’s cue. He popped up on the other side of the hood and barked.

And then immediately ducked back under the car as the cop unloaded a weapon at him, human face dead white and smelling of terror. None of the bullets hit him, but a few hit the hood of the car. Dammit. Ken was right, as usual. The cop really had just fucked up Marc’s car by shooting at it.

This wasn’t fun anymore. Marc growled. He really liked this car.

Through the rolled down window, Ken barked at him. “Don’t do anything stupid!”

“Yeah, no, gotta take a hard pass on that,” Marc said, and leapt onto the hood. The cop screamed and backed up, trying to aim his gun, but in the time it took him to do that, Marc was already jumping onto him, knocking him to the ground and sending the gun flying. He shrieked.

Marc licked his face.

“No, no, get away from me, get – what the fuck?” The cop seemed to realize that this was not going the way he expected around the third slobbering lick. “What the – shit, are you licking me?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Marc said, but since it was in wolf language, he knew all the cop would hear was whining and a bit of a growl.

“Marc. Stop torturing the poor guy. Knock it off.”

“He ruined my car! Shot a hole through the engine block! You see all that steam? There’s no way I’m driving this home!” Marc growled at the cop, who was trying to push him off, and then licked him a few more times for good measure. He strongly considered pissing on the cop, but Ken would have his head. “I can’t even get it fixed for most of a month – the full moon’s, like, three weeks off or something. And it’s gonna rain, and the rain will get in the bullet holes, and the whole damn engine will rust.”

“This is why I told you not to provoke the cops,” Ken said unhelpfully.

He got out of the car, tongue lolling, and trotted over to the cop’s gun. “Good doggie,” the cop whimpered. “Good doggies. Good, good doggies. Stay. Stay.”

Ken did not stay. He picked up the gun with his mouth, trotted over to where there was a scenic overlook down the side of the mountain, and dropped the gun over the cliff.

“Fuck!” The cop pushed Marc off, with difficulty, and struggled to his feet. “Goddamn it, dog, did you just – you did. You dropped my gun off the side of the mountain.”

Ken barked at him.

“Okay! Okay! Good doggies! I’m just… gonna take down this plate number—”

Marc growled and crouched, as if to leap. The cop hastily dropped his pad. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m going. Someone trained you guys to hate the police. I’m just going to back away and get back in my car and call for backup and get Animal Control or something. A couple of officers with guns.”

Marc leapt and knocked him down again, growling and barking. The cop screamed. While Marc had him pinned, Ken trotted over to the cop car. “The things you make me do.” He pulled open the door to the cop car, which was unlocked, with his teeth, and climbed in. The cop struggled as Marc licked him some more.

Ken came back with a good portion of the cop’s radio in his teeth. He dropped it on the ground next to the officer. “Oh what the fuck,” the cop mumbled, head turned toward Ken, staring at the ruins of his radio. “Someone really went all out to train you guys.”

“We need to get out of here,” Ken said. “If he flags down another human who has a cell phone, he can still contact his backup. We’re gonna be doing the rest of this on paws.”

“Yeah. Shit. We only had like ten miles to go.”

“Well, if we run all out, we can get to town in about 20 minutes.” Wolves could run thirty miles an hour, and could keep it up for around 20 minutes, but Marc was impressed that Ken had been able to do the math to figure out that meant they could run the rest of the way to town. He couldn’t quite wrap his wolf head around the equations Ken must have done to calculate that.

“We’ll be wiped when we get there, though. Dammit. I loved that car.”

“This was why you shouldn’t have taunted the cop.”

“Yeah yeah. Rub it in, why don’t you.”

***

They were both panting hard by the time they reached town. Presumably it had been 20 minutes. Marc didn’t actually quite know what a minute was when he was a wolf. He knew it was a measure of time, but he couldn’t really keep track of how long it was.

“Damn, I’m tired. And my paws are killing me. I could use some water. Probably even more than the biscuit.”

Ken just whined, and folded his legs, flopping down on the side of the road. As rural mountain road turned into smalltown America, the road had acquired a sidewalk, but only on one side. Since humans tended to be intimidated by wolves, they were on the side that didn’t have one.

“Oh, come on, Mayor, you can’t be that wiped out.”

“I’m dead. Leave me. Save yourself,” Ken mumbled.

“Come on.” Marc nosed Ken in the ribs, and when that failed to produce a reaction, started licking him in the wrong direction, messing up his fur. “Let’s find some water. There’s a fountain in the middle of town.”

“Knock it off!” Ken growled, the discomfort of having his fur ruffled in the wrong direction finally seeming to overcome his exhaustion.

“I’ll stop when you get up.”

“I will bite you,” Ken said, demonstrating by snapping at Marc.

“No, you won’t. You’re Mr. Civilization and everything. Now let’s—”

“PUPPY!”

Marc and Ken both swiveled their heads to see what looked like a six year old girl running across the street toward them. This was a problem both because there was traffic on the road, and because appearing to be a dangerous animal anywhere near a human child was usually a bad idea. “Oh, crap,” Marc said.

He could hear a car vrooming toward the girl, around the bend. Marc leapt, grabbed the girl’s T-shirt with his teeth as she screamed, and pulled her over to the sidewalk where she’d come from just as the car zoomed past where they had just been.

Then he licked her, because that was what his wolf instincts told him to do with a child who’d had a scare.

“Oh – a car!” It seemed to be dawning on the girl that she could have been hit by that car. “Puppy! You saved me!” She threw her arms around Marc and hugged him.

“No problem, kid,” Marc mumbled, knowing she couldn’t understand him.

“Do you want to come home with me? Do you have people? Mom and Dad said that dogs who don’t have people are scary and I shouldn’t play with them but I don’t think so! You’re such a cute puppy and you saved me! I bet you’re nice!”

“I’m not a puppy,” Marc growled, hoping to intimidate the child into letting him go. It didn’t work.

“You’re so soft!”

Ken limped across the road, apparently having recovered from his temporary bout of death. “Snowfrolic, you need to lose that kid. If a human sees a six-year-old hugging a giant unleashed dog with no owner around – let alone if they recognize you as a wolf—”

“I know, I know! But I haven’t got thumbs, so how do I pry her loose?”

“Another puppy!” the girl yelled. “I wanna take you guys home with me! Do you have owners? Are you lost?”

Ken flopped down at the girl’s feet, behind her, and whined. “Oh, poor puppy!” The girl released Marc and knelt down to pet Ken, who looked absolutely miserable.

“Okay, Snowfrolic, I got her off you,” Ken said. “Let’s go.”

And then he exploded into motion, racing away from the girl, down the sidewalk. Marc followed.

“No! Puppies! Don’t run away! I want to play with you!”

The girl chased after them. The only reason they didn’t outdistance her instantly was that both of them had badly aching paws, both of them were in desperate need of water, and neither of them were city people. Rema was a small town, and very focused on integrating into nature; the few storefronts and public buildings that existed all had luxurious wild patches of green all around them, which the wolves kept trimmed with their teeth. This was a lot more like a small city, with sidewalk on this side of the road taking up all of what should have been green space, only occasional patches set aside to surround a random small tree. It was disorienting.

“We should cross the street again,” Ken panted. “There’s green over there, and trees we can lose her in.”

“Yeah, but that isn’t gonna be the direction of biscuits, now is it?” Marc replied, and put on a burst of speed, letting the cries of “Come back, puppies!” recede into the distance as he turned a corner and raced deeper into town.

“Slow down! I’m an old man, my heart’s gonna burst trying to keep up with you!”

“You’re not that old, and besides, you’re the one who said we had to lose the kid!”

“She’s six! We don’t have to run all the way to California to escape her!”

“Mayor, my biscuits aren’t gonna eat themselves! Gotta find a bakery!”

“Don’t you—” pant pant “—know where—” pant pant “—a bakery is?”

“No, why would I know that? I don’t live around here, I just come here to buy snow gear!”

“Did—” pant pant pant “—it—” pant pant pant “—not—” pant pant ‘’—occur to—” pant pant pant “—you—” pant pant pant pant  “--to check—” many pants “—a map—” so many pants Marc thought that was the end of the sentence “—before we—” a somewhat smaller amount of pants than the last time “—left?”

“No, why would I do that? I can’t read maps, I’m a wolf. I figured I’d just get into town and then walk around until I smell biscuits.”

“I can—” a lot of pants “—read a map—” many pants “—you idiot!”

“Then how come you don’t know where a bakery is?”

If Ken wanted to make a reply to this, he didn’t seem to be able to, with how hard he was panting.

It occurred to Marc that maybe he was pushing the old man a little hard. Werewolves had normal human life spans, so Ken, in his mid-forties, wasn’t all that old, and their regenerative powers made them all healthier and stronger than an equivalent human or wolf at the same stage of life. But Ken’s job as the Mayor made him very sedentary, spending most of his life writing emails and doing math and other not-very-wolflike things instead of healthy and fun stuff like running around town or snow sports or hunting his own food. Marc wasn’t actually sure Ken knew how to hunt. Biologically he was a wolf, but he was so human he might as well be a dog. So he was probably really out of shape in comparison to Marc.

Marc started to slow down, and then a random human man pointed at the two of them and yelled, “Jesus Christ, those are wolves! Someone call Animal Control!”

Ken put on a burst of speed that impressed Marc – he hadn’t known the old man had it in him—and raced past Marc, turning down an alley. Marc followed as Ken weaved through a network of tiny alleys and parking lots and small streets barely wide enough for a car, figuring the older wolf knew where he was going, until finally Ken stopped, less panting than gasping. There was a garbage can lid full of rainwater, but Marc didn’t get a chance to drink any of it because Ken picked it up with his paws and poured the whole thing down his throat rather than lapping it like a sensible wolf.

“Hey! I wanted some of that!”

“Find your own,” Ken panted.

Marc poked his head out of the alley. They were now well into the city proper. “I don’t see anywhere I can get any water,” he complained. “Where are we?”

“Yeah. Good question.” Ken trotted over to the edge of the alleyway and took a look.

“You mean… you don’t know?”

“Why would I know? I don’t live here either, and I didn’t have time to check a map before you dragged me on this quest.”

“Hey, you insisted on coming with me! And I thought you had someplace in mind, you seemed to be running somewhere. What’s with all the twists and turns if you didn’t know where you were going?”

Ken facepawed. “I was trying to lose the kid, you idiot. And then I was trying to lose the humans who wanted to call Animal Control.”

“Uh, they weren’t gonna follow some strange wolves into an alley, and it’s not like Animal Control can teleport. We’d have had time if we’d just strolled, we didn’t have to run like that.” Marc sniffed the air. “I don’t smell biscuits. Or water, either. Dammit.”

“If there’s rainwater in a garbage can lid, there’s probably rainwater in something else as well,” Ken said. He went back into the alley, down one of the ones they came from, and found another garbage lid full of rainwater, and also a random storage bin. “If you like your water with some flavor…”

Werewolves didn’t worry about getting sick. Marc drank the water eagerly despite the presence of mosquito larvae in it. Extra protein!

“I’m guessing we’re more likely to find bakeries downtown, in the touristy areas,” Ken said. “There’s likely to be some in out-of-the-way places near residential neighborhoods, as well, but we’ll never find those. Whereas downtown there might be some bakeries for the day trippers. Huh. Does Panera Bread make biscuits? I can’t remember.”

The last time Marc had been in a Panera Bread, he had not been obsessed with biscuits, and so he had not bothered to observe if they had biscuits or not. “Dunno, but you know where does? Fried chicken places. So it doesn’t even have to be a bakery. We could go to a fried chicken place.”

“Well, they’re more likely to be downtown, too.”

Down at the end of the block, Marc could see the kind of enclosure that usually signified a bus stop. “My paws are killing me. I’m gonna go take the bus downtown.”

“…what? You can’t do that! Animals don’t ride buses! And do you even know if that bus goes downtown?”

“Eh, I’m guessing it probably does.” Marc hadn’t looked at a map, specifically, but he’d seen enough maps of the area in his lifetime to know that the direction the traffic on this side of the street was going in was the direction of downtown. Unless the bus veered off and did something weird, it pretty much had to go through downtown.

There was one person at the bus stop, a young woman wearing headphones. She turned as Marc approached, and whistled. “Wow. You are a big doggie. Got an owner around here?”

Marc wagged his tail and panted in a way he knew from experience looked to humans as if he was smiling. “Aw. Such a cutie. I’d pet you, but I don’t know if you’re friendly if I get up close or not.”

Still wagging and panting, Marc walked closer to the woman, who watched him warily, and then lay down right near her feet. He wasn’t going to miss out on getting some pets.

“Snowfrolic, what the hell are you doing?” Ken called from the alley.

Marc didn’t answer. His language sounded to humans like barking, and barking could startle or upset humans. Instead, he looked up at the human woman, still panting and wagging, with his eyes open as wide as he could get them.

“You’re very tame. I wonder if you were a service animal at some point,” the woman said, and reached down to his head, slowly and carefully. “You wanna sniff my hand?” Marc didn’t really, he wanted pets, but he obligingly sniffed her hand while still panting and wagging. Having gotten that introductory formality out of the way, the woman scritched his head, including behind his ears. Ah, bliss.

“Snowfrolic! What are you… no, never mind. I was going to ask what you were thinking, but it’s obvious that you weren’t,” Ken snarked.

“Wow. Another one of you. You guys look a lot alike; are you related?”

“Does she expect us to be able to answer her?” Marc asked quietly, which sounded to human ears more like a whine than a bark.

“You’re the one who decided it was a good idea to get petted by a human.”

The bus arrived. The young woman stood up. “Well, doggos, my bus is here, so I have to leave you now,” she said. The bus stopped, the door slid open, and the woman mounted the steps.

Marc followed right behind her.

“You can’t have your dogs on the bus unless they’re service animals,” the bus driver said.

“Uh… that’s not my dog. He was just waiting at the bus stop with me. I have no idea why he’s trying to get on the bus.”

“Lady, you’re not allowed to have a dog on the bus!”

“He’s not my dog!”

Marc squeezed under the woman, making her yelp as he slid between her legs and up the stairs, where he jumped onto an empty seat and started wagging and panting.

“Lady, if you don’t get the dog off the bus—”

“How am I supposed to do that? He has no collar and he’s not my dog. Do you really think he’s gonna – oof!” This was said as Ken squeezed past her, getting onto the bus as well. He sat down near Marc, looking downright morose. “Oh, shit, there’s two of them.”

“Just let the woman on the bus!” a person in the back yelled.

“Yeah, the dogs aren’t hurting anyone!”

“She said they weren’t her dogs!”

“They’re service dogs! I can tell!”

“Maybe someone called their service dogs on the phone and asked them to ride the bus to where they are!”

“That’s ridiculous, a dog can’t do that!”

“Sure it can! Dogs are amazing!”

“Uh, people, I think those are wolves…”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the driver said. “All right. Fine. Pay your fare and get on. But if those dogs get off at the same stop as you, I’m having you banned from the bus system.”

“Whatever,” the woman said angrily, mounting the stairs. She ostentatiously went all the way to the back of the bus, head held high, not even looking at Marc and Ken. As she passed them, she muttered, “Stupid dogs.”

“Uh, I kinda think we just proved we’re really smart,” Marc whispered to Ken in a tiny, quiet whine.

“I think we just proved no such thing,” Ken responded, a little too loudly, and it came out as a bit of a bark.

“Oh, look at them! It’s like they’re talking to each other!” an old lady chortled.

Ken’s ears flattened back. Marc recognized the sign of a wolf who was scared that his secret identity as a werewolf might be endangered, and shut up.

The bus drove onward on its route. Sometimes, when the bus stopped, people who had to go past Marc and Ken to get to the door shrank away from them, being elaborately careful not to go too near the “dogs”. Some unwisely petted them or even scritched them, and one man rubbed Marc’s cheeks. Marc tolerated it. Snapping at any of these humans was a great way to turn all the humans against them and get thrown off the bus, or handed over to Animal Control.

As soon as the buildings around them looked tall enough, and the pedestrians thick enough, to be a downtown area, Marc pressed the button with his entire muzzle, when just his nose didn’t do the job. “Did you see that?” someone said. “He hit the stop button!”

“Wow, those dogs are well trained!”

“They’re wolves…” the man who’d originally pointed out that they were wolves sighed.

The bus stopped, the doors opened, and Marc trotted down the stairs and out onto the street, followed by Ken. “Do you have any idea where we are?” Ken asked.

“Gimme a moment,” Marc said, watching the bus. The young lady from the bus stop did not get off with them. Good. This wasn’t her stop, so she wasn’t going to be forbidden to ride the bus. As the bus drove off, he turned back to Ken. “No idea, but I bet there’s a bakery around here somewhere! Or at least a fried chicken place.”

He started strolling down the street, drawing numerous comments. “Marc. We need to hide in an alley. People on the street around here are figuring out that we’re wolves.”

“How’m I gonna sniff out biscuits if we spend all our time in alleys?”

“How’re we going to find your biscuits if we have to run from the cops?”

Marc loped forward, ignoring how humans all around him yelled with startlement, or shrank back against buildings, or stared. He was definitely smelling food. Not biscuits, but where there was the scent of food, there might be restaurants, and where there were restaurants, there might be biscuits. “I’ve got a scent. I’m gonna track it.”

“Oh shit,” Ken said. “I don’t think you’re gonna.”

Marc turned his head to where Ken was staring, and saw a large white cargo van stopping in the middle of the street, its hazards on. The side door slid open and the passenger door banged open, and two men in white with rifles in their hands jumped out.

“We need to run!”

“Why? You know getting shot won’t kill us. You think they’ve got silver bullets?”

“Snowfrolic! Just move!”

Ken ran for the alley. After a moment, Marc followed him – until a bright stinging pain exploded in his right rear haunch. “Motherfucker!” he howled. “They shot me!”

“I told you!” Ken glanced at the wound. “Shit, that’s a tranq. They’ve got tranq guns! Move it!”

“Do those work on us?” Marc asked uncertainly, feeling wobbly. His leg hurt, and it wasn’t regenerating, because the tranq dart wasn’t out of the leg yet, but he had to run after Ken or they’d shoot him again.

“If they hit us with enough of them, yeah.” Ken skidded around a corner. As soon as Marc followed, Ken yanked the dart out of him with his teeth. “They’re following us. Move it!”

This time Marc didn’t argue. He and Ken wove in and out of alleys, pursued by the men with tranq guns, until they finally came upon a dead end – an alley that ended in a tall wire fence with brown plastic slats inserted into it to prevent anyone from seeing through it.

“They’re cornered! Stay back, watch out for them to charge!”

Ken and Marc, whose leg had healed, looked at each other. They both nodded. And then they turned toward the fence and used their werewolf strength to leap over it… landing in a dumpster on the other side.

“Shit! They jumped the fence!”

“Do we climb it?”

“Too slow! Go around, go around! Cut them off!”

Something under him smelled good. Marc started to pull at one of the black garbage bags he was sprawled out on.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… Snowfrolic. Biscuits?”

Oh yeah! Marc had been so enticed by the smell of the garbage, he’d almost forgotten his mission for a moment. “Right! Let’s get out of here!”

They jumped out of the dumpster and ran straight out of the alley they were in – into one of the guys with the tranq guns. “Shit!” Ken spun around and ran the other way, Marc following. Two tranq darts sailed after them, but didn’t hit.

There was a parking lot full of small trucks, folding tables, and tents. The smell of a variety of produce, and also, some scented soaps and candles, struck Marc’s nose. “Is that a farmer’s market?” he howled at Ken, and didn’t wait for an answer – he split off and ran into the parking lot, heading straight for a couple of hipsters holding hands. They shrieked and let go of each other to let Marc go racing through.

“Okay, great! The Animal Control guys can’t shoot at us if they’re risking hitting humans!” Ken followed Marc. More screaming ensued. The piercing shrieks of children, the high-powered cries of women, the deep terrified howls of men filled the air. Also, barking. Quite a lot of barking. Apparently many people had brought their dogs to the farmer’s market.

One of the guys in white had a weighted net. Marc saw it, saw him coming around the side of a truck that sold hot food, and made a decision. He angled himself directly for one of the tables selling produce, ducked under it – and then came up, fast and hard, before he was out from under it. This tipped the entire table over in the direction of his pursuer. Zucchini and tomatoes and apples and he really didn’t have time to notice what else went rolling across the pavement of the parking lot.

Ken joined him as they broke out the other side of the farmer’s market. “That was clever, with the vegetable table. Maybe you’re not a complete idiot.”

“I know, right? Every movie where there’s a chase scene on foot, a fruit cart ends up getting knocked over!”

Ken huffed. “I take it back, you’re every bit as dumb as I think you are.”

They ran down the nearest street. Touristy shop. Touristy shop. Fancy sandwich shop that did not smell like biscuits. Movie theater. Bookstore – wait, movie theater?

Marc opened his mouth, but Ken beat him to it. “Into the movie theater! Quick!”

They went through the spinning door. The ticket taker called out to empty air. “Hey! Dogs aren’t allowed! You gotta get your… the fuck? There’s nobody there!”

Since he was looking at the spinning door and not at the two wolves, Ken and Marc were able to slip past him. Ken pulled open the first movie theater door with his teeth, and he and Marc slunk in, hiding in the darkness.

There was some kind of very loud action scene going on, with car chases and bullets. Ken whined directly in Marc’s ear. “We can’t talk at all unless the movie’s being loud, and we have to whisper. That usher’ll be able to put two and two together if someone tells him there are dogs barking in one of the theaters.”

“Okay,” Marc whisper-whined back.

Movies were not that interesting when you were a wolf. The sounds didn’t have the depth that real life did – wolves could hear in ranges humans couldn’t, and humans only bothered to replicate the sounds they could hear. Wolf vision wasn’t really very good. And there were no smells. It was about as engaging as a cartoon from the 70’s with a low frame rate and lousy acting. Marc quickly grew bored of sitting quietly at the end of one of the rows, and padded over to the trash can.

“What are you—” The scene abruptly changed to a woman in a kitchen, much quieter than the explosions from the last scene, and Ken had to shut up. Marc stood on his hind legs. Jackpot! There was a large popcorn in there, one of those huge jobs movie theaters were famous for, barely eaten. He grabbed it with his teeth and carefully lifted it, stepping back, and lowering himself to the floor with a small enough jolt that most of the popcorn stayed in the tub.

He set it down at Ken’s feet. “Want some?” he whisper-whined.

Ken just glared at him, plainly not interested in popcorn. More for Marc, then. He shoved his face into the popcorn and gobbled as many of the buttery exploded kernels as he could fit in his mouth. They didn’t taste quite as good in wolf form as they would if he was human, but on the other hand, the smell was incredible and wonderful and mostly made up for it.

Now he was thirsty. The water fountain was unfortunately in the hallway outside the theater; there was no way a wolf could stand up and work the water fountain control lever and drink from a stream in midair without someone observing and realizing that went way beyond what a dog could be trained to do without supervision. He strolled back over to the garbage can and found what he was looking for – an almost full Pepsi, one of those super large ones.

Obviously he couldn’t drink from the straw. Wolf mouths wouldn’t do that. Just as obviously, he wasn’t going to be able to get it out of the garbage can with his teeth; it would spill everywhere, and then he wasn’t going to get to drink it. So he leaned into the trash can, carefully pried at the lid with teeth and tongue until he’d successfully pulled it off, and began lapping at the Pepsi.

The usher chose that moment to come back inside. Startled, Marc looked up at the man – more of a boy, really, a gangly teenager – as the light from the lobby of the theater shone through the door behind the usher, directly onto Marc. Who was a huge wolf on his back paws leaning on a trash can.

“AAAAAAAAAAH!” The boy turned around and ran for the door. “Fuck! Fuck! There’s a fucking wolf in Theater 3 getting into the trash can! Get Animal Control!”

This was not exactly quiet. Even over the sound of the movie’s action scene, theatergoers obviously heard it, because they all looked at each other, murmuring. “Did someone say—” “He said a wolf—” “Oh my god there it is!” This had to be them noticing Ken, as no one was positioned to see into the walkway from the theater door to the seating area, where the trashcan and therefore Marc was.

“They’re going to stampede! We need to get out of here!” Ken yelled.

“But I never got to drink my Pepsi!” Marc barked back.

“Take your Pepsi and shove it—” Ken described an activity that was technically possible for a wolf, but vastly easier for someone with opposable thumbs.

The barking set off the rest of the humans in the theater, filling the air with shrieks as they ran for the exits. Ken grabbed the scruff of Marc’s neck and dragged him toward the door out into the theater lobby.

“I knew there were goddamn dogs!” the ticket taker yelled as they ran out through the lobby.

The usher shouted back from somewhere, perhaps a back office, “They’re fucking wolves, Julio!”

Marc didn’t hear anything else, because he and Ken had just gotten themselves into the revolving door again.

Outside, they ran pell-mell down the street, trying to outrun any Animal Control officers that might be showing up. “I’m smelling biscuits!” Marc howled.

“Great, wonderful! I’ve got a plan, follow me!”

Oddly, Ken’s plan did not seem to be “follow the scent of biscuits”, but “follow a well-dressed middle-aged lady who was walking into a hotel.” Marc was willing to give Ken the benefit of the doubt, though; the mayor was a lot smarter than he was, so if Ken had a plan, it would be better than one of Marc’s plans… as long as it ended in biscuits.

The doorman glared at the woman. “Ma’am, this hotel doesn’t allow dogs.”

“Dogs?” The woman sounded completely puzzled. “What dogs?”

“The dogs behind you. The ones following you. Your dogs.”

She turned. Marc opened his eyes wide, panted in a way that looked like he was smiling, and wagged his tail.

“Those aren’t my dogs,” the woman said. “Are those even dogs? They’re huge, are you sure they’re not wolves?”

“I—I don’t—”

Ken barked at Marc. “Come on! We need to hide!”

Marc looked around the wide, open hotel lobby. “Where?”

“Follow me!”

So Marc did, his claws skittering and sliding uncomfortably on the polished floor. Ken shot past the elevators, drawing stares from various humans waiting for it, went around a pillar, and dove into a dim, partially enclosed area with a lot of tables covered with tablecloths. Ken went under a table, and Marc followed.

“So what’re we doing?” Marc whisper-whined. “This is a restaurant, right? Are there biscuits here?”

“There are no goddamn biscuits at a fancy hotel restaurant.”

“How do you know?”

Ken sighed a very human-sounding sigh. “Do I need to get you a goddamn menu to prove there are no biscuits?” he asked quietly.

“What, you can read a menu?”

“Yeah, if you get my glasses out of the pouch on my back.”

Marc stared. Somehow, this whole time, he had never noticed that Ken had a pouch strapped to his back. “…how did you get that thing on in the first place?”

“With difficulty.” Ken lay down. “Don’t break my glasses getting them out.”

Carefully Marc nosed the flap of the pouch up. When he had enough of it up that he could get the flap into his mouth, he pulled it open. It was Velcro, so it came easily. He managed, with difficulty, to get his paw into the pouch, where he managed to snag the glasses and pull them out. “How’re you gonna get these on your face?”

“Give me a moment.”

Ken stuck his head out from under the tablecloth, just a little bit. “You stay here,” he said, and then he bolted. A moment later, he was back, with a menu in his mouth. He dropped it on the floor under the table. “There’s not enough light under here, hold the tablecloth up with your nose.”

“Uh, okay, is that all right? Are we not worrying about getting caught anymore?”

“There is no one in this restaurant but the bartender and he’s not paying any attention.”

Marc obligingly held the tablecloth up, and thus had enough light to see Ken pick up his glasses off the floor like he had thumbs, using both his front paws. Ken set the glasses on his snout as Marc goggled at him, because wolves really could not do that, generally speaking. Then Ken peered down at the menu. “Okay. We have breakfast here. Waffles. Eggs. Sausage. Bacon.”

“Can we get some bacon? I’d love some bacon.”

“Focus, Snowfrolic. Fruit cup. On to lunch. Cold sandwiches: roast beef, BLT, club sandwich, reuben, turkey, ham, Italian cold cuts. Hot sandwiches: hamburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger with bacon, vegan patty, chicken patty. Entrees: not a biscuit, not a biscuit, this one’s not a biscuit either, can you just take my word for it there are no biscuits anywhere on this menu?”

“Then why are we here? You said you had a plan.”

“I do have a plan, I just needed people to stop yelling about the big dogs. The heat’s died down; I want you to walk, not run, behind me, calmly, and look as harmless and friendly as you can. Like we’re two dogs who are trained to run around and get stuff for our owner or something.”

“You’ve got a thing that looks like a harness with that pack on your back, but I don’t have one. I’m not gonna look like a service dog.”

“You’re not a service dog. You’re an emotional support dog.”

“I don’t need a harness for that?”

“Just stay calm. We’ll get you your biscuit.”

The two of them slunk out from under the table and started walking, calmly, down a hallway. “Mayor. Your glasses are still on!” Marc growled at Ken, low enough to make it hard for humans to hear.

“Shit. I don’t have time to take them off and put them away, and if I put them in my mouth I won’t be able to see through them,” Ken muttered. “All right, I’m just gonna brazen it out.”

They continued to walk calmly down the hallway. No one but a small child noticed the glasses. “Mommy, that dog is wearing glasses!”

Mommy, on her cell phone, said, “Oh really! Very interesting!” without looking at the wolves at all, and then continued her cell phone conversation.

Ken pulled a door open by the handle, with his teeth. “Good,” he said, his voice muffled by the handle in his mouth. “No people in here. C’mon.”

Marc followed him in. There was a computer on a table, next to a printer. “Block the door. We don’t want any humans coming in,” Ken said.

“What are we doing?”

“I’m writing you a note,” Ken said. He pulled the chair for the computer out, jumped into it, and sat in it wolf-style. With his right paw, he maneuvered a little thingy around – oh, right, they called that a mouse. Marc didn’t know why. It didn’t smell anything like a mouse.

“You’re what?”

“Writing. You. A. Note.” Ken started typing, supporting himself with his left paw while he delicately used the longest digit on his right paw to peck out a message on the keyboard. “Please. Give this dog. A bag. Of biscuits. In exchange for. This bill.”

“Is that what it says?”

“No, Marc, it says rubber baby buggy bumpers.”

“I feel like you’re being sarcastic.”

“What was your first clue?” Ken did something with the mouse again, and the printer whirred to life, a piece of paper slowly feeding out of it. “Now go back in my pack and get out my ten dollar bill.”

“You have money in there?”

“Just hurry up! While you’re away from the door getting the money out of my backpack, people could come in!”

Marc was pretty sure that if people shoved hard enough they could have gotten in even if he was leaning on the door; he was a big wolf, but a human had better leverage than he did. But there was no point in arguing with Ken about it. He stuck his paw in, felt around, and pulled a piece of paper out. “Is this your money?”

“Yeah. Okay, can you get the glasses back in?”

Marc considered the possibility of picking Ken’s glasses up with his mouth, and then tried to imagine how to get them into Ken’s backpack without breaking them, and came to the conclusion that it was not happening. “Nope.”

“Shit. Well, they’re readers, they’re cheap. I’ll get more from the drug store when I’m on two feet again.” Ken was for some reason sticking his tongue into a plastic dish full of little metal things, next to plastic dishes full of pens and plastic dishes full of rubber bands.

“What are you doing, Mayor?”

Ken glared at Marc, since with his tongue fully extended he could hardly talk. He withdrew his tongue. Oh, that was a paper clip! Marc recognized it now.

Using more dexterity in his paws than Marc could have imagined a wolf was capable of, Ken got the bill, the piece of paper that came out of the printer, and the paper clip together somehow, so that the bill and the paper were now clipped together. “Carry that in your mouth, but gently. Try not to slobber on it, we want humans to be able to read what it says.”

“I’m gonna have a hard time not getting slobber on something in my mouth, Mayor.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you have hands to carry it with, so you’ll have to make do.”

***

Outside, Marc picked up the trail of the biscuit smell again, and followed it down the street, Ken trotting behind him. They had to switch who was carrying the note, because all of that biscuit smell was making Marc salivate.

Marc traced the delicious smell to a glass window, which he pressed his face up against before realizing that he couldn’t actually go through the window that way. Ken pulled the door open with his teeth, which caused the note to fall down. Marc picked it up with his mouth, figuring that in the ten seconds it took him to get it to the counter, it couldn’t get too much slobber on it.

No one was at the counter. He dropped the note there. One of the bakers came out of the back, saw him do it, and stared. “Wow. You are a well-trained dog. Is that a ten dollar bill?”

Marc almost nodded, and then remembered not to do that because humans would freak out at the sight of a wolf nodding “yes” to their statement. Instead he made his eyes big, panted in a smile-like shape, and wagged his tail.

The baker picked up the note. “’Please give this dog a bag of biscuits in exchange for this bill.’ Oh, wow, someone trained you to go fetch them food! I wish my dog would do that.” She peeled the note away from the bill. “Ugh, dog slobber. Well, I guess there isn’t any other way for you to carry it, is there. But how about I give you a bag with handles, that way you don’t slobber on your owner’s biscuits.” She looked over at Ken. “Do you want some biscuits too?”

Ken whined and pawed at the door. “I guess not. You want me to let you out? How about I do that after I get your buddy the biscuits he came for?” She went into the back briefly, and came back with a tray of biscuits. “Fresh out of the ovens just fifteen minutes ago.” Marc had to resist the temptation to just grab one and run when she set it down on the counter and the smell wafted over to him. So close. So, so close to biscuit time.

The baker put several biscuits – more than Marc could count, but that didn’t prove much since he couldn’t count higher than five – into a plain white paper bag, and then put the bag into another bag, a shopping bag with handles that was made of a better, tougher quality of paper. Marc grabbed the handles with his teeth as the baker rang up the transaction, and put the change into a jar full of coins on the counter. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir!” she said, laughing. Ken shoved the door open, and he and Marc both trotted out of the bakery.

Within less than a minute, Marc was in the closest alleyway, hidden from casual human view. He dropped the biscuit bag on the ground, nosed into it, and pulled one of the crispy, flaky, buttery wonders out with his teeth. Biscuit time!

“Well?” Ken asked. “Was it worth all this?”

Marc chewed the biscuit thoughtfully, and then lowered his head, his ears going back a bit. “That’s disappointing. It doesn’t even taste very good.”

Ken’s ears flattened, he growled, and he crouched back in an obvious attack position, preparing to pounce. The body language was clear as day. Before Ken could jump him, Marc ran down the alley, leaving the rest of his not-very-good biscuits behind, as Ken chased him barking insults, curses and general imprecations the whole way.

10 facts about Shana and her mother Darika. Plus the full OC interview with each of them :)

Here they are! Shanna, the “Beauty” of my wlw Beauty and the Beast retelling (which still lacks a definitive title, though I intend it to include the word “rose”), and Darika, her mother.

Shanna 10 facts 1. She is 14 years old during the story’s prologue, 17 when the main plot starts, and 19 by the end.

2. My facecast for her is the late Israeli singer Ofra Haza (best known to some of us for providing the voice of Moses’s mother Yocheved in The Prince of Egypt) when she was very young.

3. She’s mixed race. Her mother’s ancestors were white pseudo-Europeans, while her father’s came from a Middle Eastern-inspired culture. Both practiced the same Judaism- and Shamanism-inspired religion, though. She’s her world’s equivalent of a Jewish person who’s half Ashkenazi, half Mizrahi.

4. Her name is partly a variant of the Yiddish “Shaina,” meaning “beautiful,” and partly an abbreviation of the Hebrew “Shoshanna,” meaning “lily” or, more significantly, “rose.” It has nothing to do with the Hebrew “shana,” meaning “year” – they’re just almost-homonyms.

5. Unlike most traditional Beauty and the Beast Beauties, she’s the eldest of three sisters, not the youngest. Her two sisters aren’t wicked, but they are a bit of a handful because they’re so young, and she’s had to be their responsible caretaker. She plays that role well – her little sister Zuri sooner calls for her than for their mother when she needs help – but it’s kept her from fully exploring her own potential, which she finally does get to explore during her time with Liriel, the lady beast.

6. Her personality is very much like Disney’s original animated Belle: bookish, sweet, emotional, full of dreams, yet intelligent and strong willed too. She’s more socially awkward than Belle, though, and unfortunately, she also has the self-doubt of Robin McKinley or Megan Kearney’s Beauties. Unlike Belle, she’s internalized the idea that she’s odd and oversensitive, so she tries to act like a “normal” down-to-earth villager, until the year she spends with Liriel makes her realize her worth just as she is.

7. She’s an aspiring author and poet. At age 13, before her family fell into poverty, she wrote a play based on the popular story of the heroine Lady Yasfira, portraying her as more flawed and dynamic than in most retellings, giving more sympathy than usual to the “evil” queen who opposed her, and portraying them as having once been friends. (Think either The Prince of Egypt or Wicked, or both.) The play was never performed at the time, but years later, with Liriel’s encouragement, she fine-tunes it, and then they perform it together for Liriel’s animal servants – this plays an important role in their growing feelings for each other.

8. She rarely lets herself get angry, but when she does, she can verbally annihilate you.

9. She realized she was bisexual at age 11 when, after her first crush on a boy at her school ended, she developed a new crush on a girl. She probably realized this more quickly than most real-world bi girls do, because the setting, Zalina Island, has no homophobia. She never acted on her crushes, but only out of shyness, not because she saw anything wrong with liking girls.

10. Despite her gentle personality, she’s not especially femme: she’s more soft butch, or maybe futch. She dislikes dresses (fortunately, Zalina Island has no taboo against women in pants) and generally wears just one or two feminine articles, like a shawl or earrings, with otherwise boyish clothing.

Interview (as she would answer it around the middle of the story)

What did you want to be, when you were a kid? There were so many things I wanted to be at different times. A queen, a princess, a duchess, a prophet, a traveling bard, an actress, a shepherdess, a farmer, a lady knight, a prime minister, a priestess, an acrobat, a cook, a kitchen maid, a dressmaker like my mother, a merchant like my father, a doctor, a midwife, a goldsmith, a fairy… and eventually, I realized that the one way to be all those things was to be a writer.

When did you know you wanted to be a writer? As soon as I was old enough to realize that stories didn’t come out of thin air, but where written by people. I wanted to do it as soon as I knew I could.

Who inspires you? My mother, my father, and a wide array of fictional heroes and heroines.

If you got to choose, where would you like to live? With whom? I’d love to live in a castle. I try not to care where I live as long as my family is with me, but my dreams of living in some splendid beautiful place never seem to die. I wouldn’t want it unless my family was there too, though.

Which item would you never give away? My journal, where I write down my secret thoughts, poems and stories.

Tell us about the biggest mistake you made in your life. Until recently, I might have cited the time I forgot to write an important history essay for school because I got lost in writing my play Yasfira and Anefri. Or else the time I lost my temper with my three-year-old sister Zuri and hurt her feelings so badly that she ran away and was missing for over an hour. But now, there’s no doubt that my worst mistake was asking Mama to bring me back a unique flower if she could find one on her trip to the city. Who would have thought a flower would cost so much?

Did you ever fear for your life? Yes, the moment when I saw Lady Liriel for the first time, after I followed Mama back to her lair – half wolf, half dragon, and entirely terrifying – and even more so, when she sniffed the air and I knew she smelled me hiding there.

There’s people who say you’re strange. Do you have any comment on this? I’m afraid it’s true. So often my imagination feels more real than the real world, my mind flies off to places that no one else believes exist, my emotions swell and crash like tidal waves no matter how much I try to swallow them and put logic first, I’ve always asked too many questions, and I feel less alone with only my books, paper and pen than I do in crowds of people.

Tell us something about you that nobody knows. Well, not many people know how strange I am anymore. I’ve learned to copy Mama and pretend to be as sensible and down-to-earth as she and our neighbors are, instead of spewing my feelings and dreams the way I used to. If the villagers knew about my romantic fantasies or the stories and poems I write in my head, they would laugh or scold even more than the people in the city did when I was small. 

What would make a perfect day for you? A few hours spent reading, a few spent writing, and maybe a trip to the theatre in the evening, with people who understand me and let me feel free to be myself.

Darika 10 Facts 1. She takes on the father’s traditional role in the Beauty and the Beast story. Her husband was a merchant, but he died in the same shipwreck that destroyed his merchandise and left the family impoverished. But a few years later, she learns that one of his ships survived after all, has to travel to reclaim its cargo, but gets lost in a forest… and we all know the rest. Recent BatB retellings have put a lot of effort into answering the question “What happened to Beauty/Belle’s mother?” in interesting and poignant ways. To be different, I thought “Why not make her mother the living parent?”

2. My facecast for her is the New York City Criminal Court judge Rachel “Ruchie” Freier. Not that I know much about Judge Freier, but her face look right for the character.

3. At the beginning of the story, she’s 35 years old. By the end, she’s 40.

4. She was born in a small, poor village at the base of the White Pine Mountains. Her parents died when she was a baby, so she was raised by her grandfather and her older sister, who have since died too. 

5. She worked as a seamstress in the village until she met and fell in love with a wealthy young traveling merchant from an elite port city. Despite the disapproval of his social circle, they married. After his death, she took their daughters back to her home village to start a new life.

6. Her impoverished upbringing and family tragedies have toughened her. She takes a very practical, hardworking, no-nonsense approach to life, tries to teach her daughters to do the same, and is calm and resolute in the face of hardship, focusing on “What are we going to do about it?” She sometimes loses patience with her daughter Shanna’s dreaminess and sensitivity, which makes Shanna, who adores and idolizes her, feel inadequate and weak.

7. Inside, though, she feels just as deeply and intensely as Shanna does. Her love for her family is limitless and she’s actually very dependent on Shanna, who fills the role of the family’s nurturing caregiver more than Darika’s temperament lets her do.

8. One thing she and Shanna have in common, which Shanna learned from her, is strong integrity and deep compassion for others. For her, the best part of being rich was all the good she could do for the poor, while the hardest part of becoming poor again was having so little to give to those even poorer.

9. Her sewing is more than just her job – it’s an art. She embroiders the clothes and quilts she makes with all kinds of colors and unique designs. The vibrant images she creates are an outlet for the emotions she doesn’t express.

10. Her personality is inspired by assorted beloved literary heroines, both classic (Jane Eyre, Elinor Dashwood) and modern (Tamora Pierce’s lady knight Keladry of Mindalen). For all their differences, and though they’re much younger than Darika, all these heroines are quiet, practical, dignified, staunch in their integrity, deeply caring and passionate on the inside, and yet with masks of stoic self-control that they only drop when intensely provoked. I like those heroines and admire them, yet sometimes their popular role model status annoys me, because it’s hard for a highly sensitive, naturally effusive person to act like them. So Darika pays tribute to them, but the story will also emphasize that her daughters don’t need to be like her.

Interview (as she would answer it around the middle of the story) What did you want to be, when you were a kid? A forest sprite or a good witch. I had a wild imagination in those days, before the real world tamed it.

When did you know you wanted to be a seamstress? When I first learned that the flowers and birds on my childhood quilt hadn’t sprouted there by themselves, but were embroidered by my mother, and that the storytelling tapestries that hung on the village temple walls were sewn by other villagers in the same way. I wanted to create beauty like they had, and to tell stories through pictures, while at the same time creating useful things for others: clothes, blankets, handkerchiefs, etc.  I think I willed my own talent for sewing into being to do just that.  

Who inspires you? My older sister Shanna; the namesake of my daughter. We lost our mother very young, so she took on the role of mother for me, and every day her love and strength have inspired me as I’ve raised my own children.

If you got to choose, where would you like to live? With whom? I would live in a clean, elegant, comfortable house with my daughters, a servant or two, and my husband, if only I could bring him back.

Which item would you never give away? My wedding ring.

Tell us about the biggest mistake you made in your life. Three of them, one directly after the other. First, when I was lost in the Great Forest during a storm, I took shelter in what I thought was an ordinary cave. Then, when I found that the inside looked like a castle, I should have turned and left; even then I knew that such an enchanted place would be dangerous. But I was cold, wet, and afraid I would die if I went back out into the storm, so I stayed. Last but not least, when I discovered the greenhouse garden in that castle-cave, I crept in and picked a rose as a gift for my daughter Shanna. Who would have dreamed a single flower would cost so much?

Did you ever fear for your life? I feared for my life when I was lost in the storm, but even more so when I came face to face with Lady Liriel. I’ll never forget the sight of her matted fur and vampire-bat fangs as she glared down at me.

There’s people who say you’re cold and stony. Do you have any comment on this? They don’t really know me.

Tell us something about you that nobody knows. Very few people fully know me, not even my daughters. I play the role of the calm, practical peasant woman, but it’s only skin-deep. Shanna thinks all her wild passions and romantic dreams came from her father, but really she inherited them from me too. My grandfather knew the secret me, and so did my sister, and my husband. But they’re all gone, and as I’ve buried each of them, I’ve buried those aspects of myself more deeply.

What would make a perfect day for you? A quiet day of embroidery by the fire at home, with my daughters all near me and all happy.

The Meaning of Death: BoJack Horseman vs. The Good Place by Wisecrack

When they started talking about “all books have endings”, I couldn’t help but think of comic books, going on and on and on.  Before I switched to manga, I read American comic books, americomi.  So it was a shock to me, to get into one of my first favorite manga series and reach its end.  No rolling into new writers, artists, or storylines.  Just “this is the end of the series”.  And yes, it was nice to have a story so cohesive---with repeating motifs, foreshadowings, properly placed milestones of emotional progression, a perfectly unfolded theme(s)---because CLAMP had an ending in mind, even when they gave Rayearth a sequel series.  But when that first series ended, I didn’t know what to do.  Magic Knight Rayearth had taken up so much real estate in my brain’s fangirling, that I didn’t know what to do with it gone. I felt an empty spot, that was pretty big.  And years later, when Ranma 1/2 ended, there was melancholy and loss too.  ...Though, Ranma 1/2′s open-ended  “ending” to the manga felt reassuring, that Ranma and Akane were still out there, up to their antics.  But I think when that manga ended, some small part of me was still a little unsatisfied with the lack of finality.  Though compared to the vast majority of fans, it was a very small part.  I was actually very happy to feel like Ranma and Akane were still out there.  Even if their further adventures were only in our imaginations.  But yeah, it’s got nothing on americomi that has gone on for years and years and decades.  LOL

I watched Bojack but not the Good Place, so I thought I’d stop watching this video before spoilers.  But I don’t think this is even the first video essay on The Good Place, that I forgot to check out of before spoilers.  Whatever.  I used to be immune to spoilers.  My immunity has gone down, but I still feel that a series is as good as the experiences of its moments, vs just knowing what happens in the plot and the end.  I want a series/movie/story that feels good to re-watch, because the individual scenes are good experiences, in and of themselves.  So what do a few little spoilers---like plot points---matter?  lol  

And maybe that explains why I never liked the idea that death gives life meaning.  It sounds like the moment to moment experiences are negated or invalid.  If you’re suffering, it “doesn’t matter” because death will make it end and that will be meaningful in some retroactive symbolic way. If you’re enjoying a moment, then it “doesn’t matter” unless it’s eventually ripped away from you, or you or someone else eventually suffers.  Maybe it’s the suicidal depressive in me that doesn’t like the invalidation of the hells or heavens of each daily, “mundane” moment.  Once my sister and I watched a suicide scene in a movie and she didn’t understand why the character did it because he was happy in his relationship.  I just told her cryptically, “It’s an artist thing.”  Maybe I didn’t want to actually talk about the fear of good moments turning bad or wanting to seemingly stay in good moments by making life cut off right there.  Not that I agreed with the character. (Personally, I think death/suicide is for ending and resting from the never-ending suffering that is existence.)  He could have continued on, having many more good moments, he couldn’t have possibly imagined with his significant other.  My sister was right.  Death doesn’t give anything meaning.  It’s like what dream-Herb said in Bojack Horseman, “It’s just your brain trying to make sense of things.”  That’s just what human brains do.  But the comforting interpretations of people left behind doesn’t make anything better or worse for the person who had the actual experiences.  Maybe my problem with the idea  “can’t enjoy anything without it eventually ending” (or even “no light without darkness and no good without evil”), is because it probably plays into the same anxious insecurity that I have to deal with in real life.  I’d like to be able to feel secure in good things/experiences staying and not being called “invalid” unless it has an end in sight.  I’d much prefer for things to evolve.  Even if they transition so much that they’re no longer recognizable from the original, then at least each state was gradual and the necessary fit for each corresponding situation.  I’d prefer that good moments be appreciated, instead of being told they’re invalid unless they have an ending.  And I’d prefer bad moments stop, vs being told it has meaning, like the universe giving you “tough love” so you can learn to become “stronger” or whatever.  Sometimes shitty situations/feelings are just shitty.  And anyway, there’s no guarantee that everyone reacts the same enough to predict whether “tough love” will yield a “toughened up spirit” or a traumatically scarred mentality; the only certainty is that the dispenser of “tough love” is being callous, discompassionate, and often trying to make excuses to “allow” such abuse.  If there’s anything that’s given me the closest understanding of objecting to “the ends justify the means”, it’s my objection to the implication that the day-to-day daily moments don’t matter unless Death.  Like Cloud said in FF7AC, “There’s nothing that isn’t important.” 

Though I can be a little bit of a nihilist about life never having any inherent meaning, I actually just like the ideas that life can be given meaning and that there’s nothing cheap about that manufactured meaning.  (Who told that allegory about a man-made fire to sit by, being just as good as a fire that came out of no where?)  Even though I haven’t watched The Good Place, I like a lot of stories/series about immortality, my Personal Myth uses it a lot in Thought Experiments, and I do like muddling over such themes accompanying immortality.  I feel, just like a truly enjoyable movie/series/manga, the value is in the experiences of scenes and moments.  So what if you already have experienced everything for yourself and know how everything is going to end or know what patterns are going to repeat forever?  You don’t know what a moment feels like to someone else.  One of the tragic failings of language is that humans will still never be able to communicate their exact experiences to each other, no matter what the means of conveyance.  Anything short of a psychic hive mind is still inadequate communication, even that could be considered a singular being who doesn’t know how to communicate to other entities.  (Not without some trial and error, like in Eureka 7.)  It would be just the same as like individual humans to individual humans.  But maybe I just find an unusual amount of value and joy in experiencing things by proxy or from the outside.  Maybe it’s because I’m oversensitive and the bluntness of actually having first-person experiences is too intense for me.  But I enjoy watching someone else having an experience or even just imagining how they experience something, even if I myself have experienced it a zillion times.  Like when I watch an anime I already saw, in a video room with other people at a convention, or listen to reaction videos of a scene or movie I’ve already seen.  No matter how jaded I’ve become to the event, watching someone else have an experience and me trying to imagine what it must feel like for them, reminds me of how I felt when I first experienced the same thing.  But not just a recall; rather, the feelings actually re-manifest as a full emotional experience in and of themselves.  Not just a recollection of events in a plot.  Of course, a whole group of immortals jaded with their own experiences could become too dependent and addicted to the need for fresh people to have experiences for them to re-experience things freshly, by proxy...  ^.^;  There’s just something irrevocably new each time, to dealing with someone who isn’t already experienced with everything.  And all because no matter how jaded and “been there, done that” you’ve become, you still have to be kind and empathetic to other people.  Like when I was a teacher’s aid for 3 year olds, for 6 years.  I wonder if empathy is the reason why watching someone else’s experience, second-hand, by proxy, can be just as intense as a first-hand experience.  I wonder if the writers of The Good Place or all the philosophers cited would have had the notion that “once you’re jaded to your own experiences, there’s nothing else to experience”, if they were neuroatypical?  Where any of them HSPs?  And I don’t think that using other people as proxies for reinvigorating re-experiences is the only use of inexperienced people.  I think that genuinely caring for their emotions, not knowing what they’re going to do when you interact with them, having hopes that they’ll experience things well, and adjusting your interactive tactics to help guide them to good experiences, is instinctually emotional each time.  Or maybe my brain is just weird to care too much whenever someone is standing in front of me in real life.  But I really don’t think it’s just me.  As proof, there’s a lot of problems in the world caused by people ONLY caring about people in front of them in real life, so it can’t be that uncommon.  So then why get so jaded after depleting your own experiences?  Am I saying that mentorship is the “ultimate answer”?  lol  I dunno. But it would explain why people like raising children, even children not their own, when working as teachers.  In my Personal Myth, my main character is spiritually dying inside because she’s immortal and life is a never-ending hopeless trudge, that she no longer has the Strength to improve.  So she hopes instead for death, as a lazy way out.  But continually, new people she meets, and new experiences with old people she’s met before, keep pointing to the answer being to return to the Fight, the everyday battle to continuously improve.  After all, even in the jaded mindset, apparently perfection is still unattainable, because even complacency and satisfaction can spoil into stagnation.  So the answer was in the “martial arts anime” genre all along.  That must be why it always rung true enough for me to encounter it again, seeing the same tenants repeated in the artist community.  “Continual self-improvement”, “compare to your past self, not to others”, “progression is only measured by your own path, not someone else’s years of experience or natural talent”, “fear stagnation and complacency”, “be more concerned with self-improvement vs aggrandizing your ego”,  “recognize the True Strengths of Compassion vs Power”, etc.  Whether art or in anime martial arts, existence is a never-ending battle, constantly teetering on the edge of falling, then gritting your teeth to climb back up, again and again.  There’s always so much to do in existence, how can any humans get bored?  Maybe being jaded is less about having nothing new left to experience or do.  Maybe it’s more about being too tired to contract and expand to adjust to other people? Or just being too tired to overcome the fear that nothing will be different, no matter what you do or what happens, enough to stop trying?  Maybe I’m just falling into human cliches to value Evolution.  Or maybe that’s just the necessary value of anything living.  “Sometimes life is a bitch, but then you keep living,” to paraphrase what Diane said in Bojack Horseman.  Believing that Living and being truly Alive has to be about constantly evolving, both spiritually and mentally, is probably necessary for my survival as a living being.  Evolved into instinct, out of necessity.  

"WITH WHOM?!"* a poem  a.k.a.: "She Has "Ruined' Me!"  :)  - Jan. 16, 2019 (Wed)     Dedicated: To all The People sending me [Sensual] Site invitations that I can never just ask to go away, so I just keep clicking them off, about, 1000 e-mail [dating] mailings a day and count myself lucky that I do not have 2000 invitations!

{Does ANYBODY in “The World of Tumblr” think that this is kinda ridiculous: My changing words, here and there, altering potential suggestive words and/or ideas, ever so slightly, so I do not get BLOCKED again, by Tumblr censors because I have violated so-called “Community Standards?”  Isn’t there SOMEONE “out there” that realizes how STUPID the censorial procedures for Facebook and Tumblr and other social medias have become, when you have to pussy-foot (is it, perhaps, “wrong” to use the word “pussy” because it might be considered another violation of the Politically (in)Correct idiocy that is now manifesting on The Internet that USED TO BE considered a place where you could just PUT STUFF, without having to EVERY SINGLE DAY and with every single post - wonder whether you were gonna get reprimanded because of someone’s oversensitive attitude about “this or that!?”) around here like I’m doing?!  Where does it end, you guys and gals, who seem to be so smug, sitting in your proverbial Ivory Towers, spending time (&, I guess, getting PAID for it!!), determining what YOU think is appropriate or not, based on, really, no standards at all - just your particular feelings at that time and on that day - about what YOU think should be shown or not.  Anyway!  Does ANYONE out there think this is at least a little bit RIDICULOUS?  What about you folks sitting there, blocking and deleting?  Do you ever consider that MAYBE you do not know what the heck you are doing?  Do you ever think about that?  Mmmm?  DON’T think about it!  Are you going to “block” me for my venting here, when your “appeal” procedures themselves are done without any input from me, and there seems to be NO real reasons given when I appeal yet another post for violation of “community standards,” when, after reviewing it myself, I am sure there is nothing there that’s more “revealing” than the paintings that you allow on Tumblr because they were done by some French Impressionist painter who has been dead for about 200 years.  IF you are even reading this, you don’t care, do you?  because you have NO phone numbers people can call you at - you are totally isolated!  Yeah!  “ABSOLUTE POWER CORRUPTS ABSOLUTELY!”   (“Bill?  Could you please grab me another coke and bag of chips from the vending machine?  I need some energy, so I can read another one of these sinister posts and determine if I think it’s a little bit too ‘raunchy’ for public consumption!  God, I love my job!  Bill?  O. M. G.!  SOMEONE GET AN AMBULANCE!  Bill is “down,” I think after having read another of those THINGS from The Mystic Poet!  Bill!  Oh, God, Bill!  I love you, Bill!  I WILL marry you!  I WOULD HAVE had s-x with you that last time, but I couldn’t find the key for my chastity belt!  Bill!  Oh, no, GOD!  Dear Lord: Please!  Don’t let Bill die!  What will I do?  Who can I turn to?  Wait!  I am getting a spiritual directive!  What is that, Lord?  What?  You want me to - what? - read, each word and line - of The Mystic Poet’s last ten postings?  Oh, Lord!  Please!  Don’t ask me to do THAT!  Please, Lord!  Bill?  Bill!  You have arisen - from The Dead!  Bill, I love you!  Hey, wait!  Bill!?  What is that t-shirt you have on?  “MYSTIC POET FAN CLUB”  Bill!  Why?  Bill!  (pause) Bill, I will NEVER date you again!  Traitor! (pause)   Oh, Sam?!  Hi, Sam; I really like you, Sam!  Did I ever tell you?  I dream of you at night, Sam!  I do!  Yeah, you agree?  That MYSTIC POET site!  Yeah!  Obscene!  Yup!  Offensive?  Yup!  I LIKE YOU, SAM; you are MY kinda people!  What are you doing Saturday night, Sam?!  I’m free!  but I’M NOT EASY!)   Q.E.D.}

     from a fictitious series of poems entitled: "There can be ONLY ONE!" 

Well-now, YES!  

Here's-the-Bottom-Line:

The "site" you sent-me's GREAT, 

And-I-can say, with-absolute-candor,        (that)-I-DO - appreciate,

All those s-xy bodies (especially)-of-pretty-mo-ning-girls!

I love them sh-rn, even partially, or with their public kurls,

But, HONEY!  y-know, with porn - I-(gotta)-work-hard to-achieve,

Any (political?) election, even partially, so I-REALLY DO BELIEVE,

That SO MUCH WORK? It IS a WASTE,

(For) When-I'm-with-YOU, I am so "graced,"

For - YOU'RE MY ONE AND ONLY, with-your oo-oo's - and-oose - and-smile,

And I pop-eth to attention! Yes-I-do!  Oh, my!   "Sieg Heil!"

(So)- I'D RATHER SPEND MY TIME, (pause) LU-XURIATING-WITH-YOU,

Than-with-A-1000 [date]-night-girls - and this much, Hon, is true:

That you're so super s-xy, and, when you come-(in)to view,

I have it ALL -  all that I need - you are so "coochy-coo,"**

Election-is so natural (so)-with-you I'll-cuddle-and-"kith!"

For-it-does-   TRULY   -matter, 

Who-you-do-it-with!                    :) - I am ruined; no one else is you!

  fin  <3 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNQ_A9bJBt4

 * - in bed

** - or CUDDLY POO!! :)

Mm so there’s a lot of stuff under the cut I just feel like I can’t express directly? Please don’t feel obligated to read the mess going on in my head, I just need to put it somewhere. 

So this is just a big,,, massive dump of things I sometimes wish I could tell people but either it is socially unacceptable to discuss or I simply feel too guilty to do so, or feel as if I will not be understood. It’s really a big mess, so this is kind of a second ‘hey, turn back now!’ warning if that’s the sort of thing you’re not about.  This is a queued post, also, because it makes me feel a little less like I’m begging for attention that way, and knowing that will probably reduce the appearance of urgency it gives by being all big and emotional.

I’ve noticed lately that I’ve been venting, more. Which is natural, I’m in school, I’m stressed, yadda yadda. But like- the things I vent about are never what really upsets me? they’re usually related but not- the thing and I’ve been examining myself to try and figure out why, and it boils down to the fact that what I end up venting about is genuinely insignificant, or at least mostly so, especially compared to whatever’s actually bothering me. 

I’m also always trying to- dismiss and explain away everything that upsets me. “Oh, it’s just hormones”, “Oh, it’s just school stress making me crazy, you know”, “I’m just being oversensitive rn, it’ll pass”. 

But like whoops, no, it’s not passing cause the actual root issues are a lot deeper than “I feel bad bc my teacher laughed in my face when I asked a question he didn’t like”.

And here’s the thing- I can tell myself how irrational the feelings I keep getting are all I want and it will not make them go away? In fact it’s just been forcing me to internalize them and feel shitty for feeling them at all. 

So I guess here’s the part where I actually say what I’ve really been feeling, so I can look at it, and stare at it, and figure out what the hell I can actually do about it. Cause in some cases the solution seems so easy- and then it’s fucking not, and I just feel worse for failing at it.

I feel insignificant, invisible, probably some other word that starts with an ‘in’. Like I no longer exist the moment I’m outside of someone’s immediate vicinity, and only re-enter their memory bank once I’m in front of them or on their screen again. Like my whole existence is just floating in the void and sometimes a comet passes by or whatever and acknowledges me, and I’m just screaming for that acknowledgement and have no way of making it permanent. A lot of this is probably because of the fact that, thanks to my roommates & their situation, all but maybe four or five of the 20 people I met and started interacting with semi-regularly last semester no longer even acknowledge I exist- literally their expressions glaze over and they move past me, even when I’ve directly addressed them ( though I stopped doing that right quick, of course ). I’ve never, in my whole life of being picked on and pushed away from people, felt so small or alone as I do now. And I don’t know how to change that. I keep telling myself there is a way to change that, and I will find it, and all sorts of other shit a therapist would probably say, but ultimately, even if I am not this invisible being, I don’t know how to make myself stop feeling like one. I mean it’d be nice if I could ask people to remind me of that, but wow I guess that leads to the second problem?

I hate asking for things. heck, I hate receiving things without asking for them. A friend told me they were giving me something they’d gotten with digital currency they’ve amassed to a point it is no object and I still almost had a panic attack and immediately had to work out how I could even the score and pay them back. This friend reasoned that they were paying me back, but on a numbers level their gift still sort of dwarfed what I did? And so it still incited genuine fear until I could find a way to repay it back. And it’s not that I don’t want to be given things? Because then if the exchange of things ( be they compliments, edits, art scribbles, inconsequential digital currency gifts, anything because yeah, literally all of those result in the same anxiety- though some I’m better at combating the resulting anxiety than others ), then I start getting that unfortunate human response that makes me sad because I’m not getting things, when it is a commonly accepted concept that when you like someone you give them stuff ( again, not necessarily monetary or physical- applying to compliments and emotional support and all that junk as well ), and to NOT receive those things at all just feeds back into my first problem?? And it’s this awful vicious cycle. And worse than being given things out of the blue ( because the resulting warm fuzzies do generally balance out the panic and make it well worth it ) is asking for something- whether it is something I want, something I need- even suggesting something totally inconsequential that can be given to me to help someone else combat their anxiety over being given something.  But kind of especially asking for things I need? Asking for help, asking for emotional support, asking for an ear to speak to- it’s why I’m typing up this long-ass post I all but begged people NOT to read despite kind of?? really wanting someone to understand what I am experiencing ( because is it real if people don’t acknowledge it or know about it or understand it? ), rather than just- talking to someone. I don’t want to burden anyone with my neediness? I don’t feel I have the right, I don’t feel that I’m a Level 7 Friend who can request emotional support, and I feel like I leveled wrong on my lower levels so I can literally never reach Level 7. Nevermind that people just plain don’t want to hear about this sort of thing because it makes people uncomfortable and that is a fact not many people are willing to acknowledge? Like in my experience ( and I am CERTAIN this is not always true, but for me it has been, or feels like it has been ) no matter how close with someone you are, chances are they don’t want to hear about your deep shit. No matter how much they say ‘never feel bad for asking for help or wanting to talk’ they are also probably internally praying you ask someone else.  And that is fine? Like they gotta do they own thing and I will never begrudge them that ever ever ever because Wow Dude I Get It Big Time, but it really is a struggle when there is no one who IS willing to listen?

And sure, I could see a therapist, I did for a bit last semester and I keep telling myself to find a new one this semester since the previous one left, but honestly that one just allowed me to feel like I was trying because that’s what you do when you’ve got emotional turbulence, you see a therapist- and that’s... literally the only benefit seeing one brought me. Because they seem to be more focused on “well here is a list of ways you have already tried to potentially combat this small par of your problems without actually addressing the source”, along with “do you REALLY have this thing you were told you have because you don’t have any of these stereotypical and often inaccurate symptoms listed in this short passage of a book that is my only frame of reference for it”. ( yeah, that last one is really specific but like- I was trying to talk??? about how betrayed I felt that my freaking mother was told by professionals I’m autistic NOT ONLY when I was a child, but again when I was a teenager seeing a therapist, and then told my EX BOYFRIEND before she finally told me- casually and in passing. And instead of focusing on the emotional issue I wanted to address, she focused on whether or not it was an ‘accurate diagnosis’ ). 

Like I have all these problems and they affect me and how I function, but I didn’t learn what they were or how to address them or in some cases even that I had them until very recently, and I just want to acknowledge them, but if I try I’m just asking for attention or making excuses and I just don’t know what I can do about that but man that is almost a footnote in all this ugh.

And I’m sure this factors in somewhere but heck if I know where but like touch is something humans tend to need and wow I’m very touch-starved to the point I am now touch-repulsed and while the part of me that needs support is downright begging for someone to fucking hug me for like 3 hours is constantly battling the instinct to never let anyone near me ever because what if I’m too clinging what if it hurts what if it turns out it doesn’t help shit what if they take advantage of me what if they get weirded out what if what if what if

And then the final thing- and god I know this is choppy by now and I’m honestly scared of anyone who bothered to read this far cause heck, guess you know how to destroy me now, and also why- is that I am starting to wonder if there is a point to anything I do? Like obviously there is but-- I am a creature that thrives on acknowledgement more than most it feels like and I think that I am suffering a lack of just that has been made a little clear by now so I’m at that point where like- I just want someone to look at my work, really look at it and examine it and explore it and give me deep feedback and talk with me about it but nobody wants to fucking do that, as exemplified in almost all the above points and like if it’s not worth looking at in depth is it really worth looking at, at all?

Am I really worth looking at, at all?

literally nothing but me venting lol

S.,

So, last year I faced a loss that was pretty difficult for me to deal with. You know I didn't have to deal with many of those in my life when it comes to death, only when it comes to people not being in my life anymore for reasons related to relationship problems and such. It actually helped me to write my feelings down so I'm giving it a shot, but with you this time. It's stupid, mainly because it's been 3 years since we last spoke and you'd think I would either have done this sooner or I would have already moved on like a regular person would.

But I didn't. And I can't figure out why. Yes, I have always been oversensitive, felt way too much, but in a lot of ways those feelings were always self consuming. Even when I overreacted, and oh boy did I do that a thousand of times, this would only last a little while. And sure, I know ~deep feelings are forever.

The first person I ever loved didn't love me back the same way and we resumed our friendship after a few years and it's all good. I don't even regret behaving like an idiot ~in love or whatever because I was figuring things out and so was he and that was fun. Even though it was way deeper for me than it was for him. But eventually I moved on with my romantic feelings and since then I only ever felt love for him as my friend, as my brother (and I'm actually kinda mad at him right now, but anyway...)

So we can agree that I am capable of moving on in a general sense, right? Then why the hell has this been going on forever? Why can't I move on from this? It's so humilating, honestly. And I know you'd say it was my own doing. I was the one who walked away, technically. Is it that I can't accept it? I have thought about this so much. So I thought about reviewing things.

First the good. When I started uni in 2013 I was all alone, had no contact with my friends from school, was in the worst of my depression and anxiety and I wanted so bad to meet new people. I had a breakdown everyday after getting home from class. I mean, what the heck was I thinking? Oh yeah, let me get into law school, never mind that I have social anxiety, general anxiety disorder, depression and who knows what else... Anyway, so you always seemed a bit unapproachable but you were cool t-shirts of TV shows I enjoyed and maybe it was the meds I started taking that made me act a bit out of my character, but I decided to go for it and start a conversation and you were pretty cool. You did not watch any of those shows, but that's one of those things that were really great about you, you know? You didn't have to be into anything to be a great conversationalist.

So we didn't get too close in the first semester but from a distance I took notice of a few things you did that were amusing. But what really caught my attention was that you really fit my interpretation of Muse's Bliss "Everything about is how I wanna be / Your freedom comes naturally". I know I can't properly express it and I know you wouldn't get it (and I understand why people who aren't me don't get it), but what I felt wasn't like a romantic attraction or anything of the sort.

But to cut it short, when we became friends during the second semester I felt really honored that you felt like you could be honest about being gay and having a boyfriend and the troubles you had at home because your parents didn't know.

And yeah, during school I barely went out even though I did have a group of close friends. But I never ever thought I would have as much fun as we had during uni. And I feel so grateful for that, even now. For the nights we went out to dance, or drink, for understanding my limitations or how my parents are strict. Or how we traveled to camp or we just took a ride in a political rally bus just to get to another town and spent all day walking around.

And sometimes it was just the stupidest things, like after class going to the mall and eating junk food or when we were driving in your car and we'd go to your house and we'd just do nothing but hang out. After high school I thought I'd never ever have anything like that again.

I'll be honest in saying that whenever people questioned exactly how we got along I just couldn't find an answer. You were mostly carefree, so confident, self assured, but you had your emotions in check, were always a bit colder when it came to that (I always admired that), and you weren't obsessed with stuff like me (either comics, TV shows, games or whatever). I was the opposite and that wasn't a problem at first.

So, yeah, you gave me the friend experience I wanted all along. We did so many things together. When you went through difficult times with your parents, or you messes things up with your boyfriend, I was so glad you had someone to be there for you in the middle of the night to talk to you and make you feel better, because even though you've always had tons of friends, they weren't really that close, but in that moment I was. And I offered you what I thought you had offered me: acceptance. It didn't mean pretend you were in the right, but it meant supporting you even when you were wrong and just needed someone to be there for you.

So things shifted so many times and the years passed and you got integrated into my little group of friends too. That was so great, honestly. You made me feel really alive, and made me feel like someone cared for me. One thing I had never told anyone before is that I always wanted someone to just give a surprise gift, literally doesn't matter what. And you did that, out of the blue, for no reason other than to make me feel happy.

So I should really really say that just like you told me every new year's eve when you called me: I love you too. I'm so grateful for everything we lived together and I smile and cherish every moment, and maybe that's why it hurts so much.

We spent so much time together throughout 6 years of friendship all over town that everywhere I go I'm reminded of those moments and that's nice, but it sucks.

So, yeah, the bad part. I have serious issues. For real. And you had your own issues as well. I can only speak about my own, though. I think I was a good friend, very supportive, but at some point I lost you for whatever reason. Maybe that's just what happens. People change, people get bored, maybe I got boring. Many things happened at the same time. You graduated before I did because I decided to stick around for a while longer so I could spend more time at my internship, so you were dealing with a lot of stress of graduating and thinking about the future. You were starting a new relationship. And our other friends were graduating too. Suddenly you had less time, less patience.

And sure, in general, you were not the best person to talk to when having a mental health crisis. That was good in a way when I needed to get my shit together and just get over it, but it worked horribly when I was actually in a bad state and you didn't really display any empathy or... whatever.

So because of previous bad experiences I panicked and recognized you were drifting away, and I started displaying some pretty toxic behavior. You, on the other hand, just had zero tolerance to talk to me.

We spent months at this. I got myself under control, stopped overreacting to what you said. But I know, and I already knew back then, that those were just excuses and that you just didn't enjoy my presence anymore and you just made up reasons so we could never ever hang out. We lived in the same city and we spent like 7 months without seeing each other. So I tried to be okay with it.

And I get it. Sometimes you burn too many bridges with people. And you lose them and it's too late. But! If there was one thing that you never had a problem with was being honest. Why couldn't you just be honest with me if you just didn't like me anymore? If you couldn't stand me? If you thought we had no repair? You never held back on your comments, no matter how much they'd hurt. So why continue to pretend everything's fine?

So, okay, we still had the group chat and you kept making jokes at my expense and when I expressed any dislike you said I couldn't take a joke. But that's the thing, you know? If I thought you really meant it as a joke, I'd just laugh it off. But I just felt like you didn't even respect me anymore. And there was never a single light moment between us.

The second to last breaking moment was before I graduated... I was changing psych meds and I was having a breakdown ON MY OWN and the way you said so casually "when aren't you having a crisis?" because you know what? It is a daily struggle and I was "being good" for months, and this just destroyed me. It literally didn't matter what I did anymore. You were always gonna see me like that.

And I am truly sorry for the moments I did go overboard and overreacted and caused you any distress, but whyyyy couldn't you just be honest with me about not wanting to be friends anymore?

And then you kept saying you "couldn't make it" to my graduation, but that was just a joke, because haha right? So come march 2019 you and my other friends from uni had basically are decided on everything for a trip and didn't tell me a thing. I asked why and you told me it's because I would just ruin the plans and I never get things done and just freaking attacked me.

I had been sustaining the pretense of a good relationship for months and months but that was it for me. I was anxious. I had been cut off from uni, from my internship, and now even my friends were acting like that... I couldn't have another source of distress in my life. You became a source of STRESS in my life. The absolute opposite of what you had been before. How the hell did this happen?

So, I decided to quit the group chat on behalf of my mental health. I didn't think you'd ever come running after me or anything, but after a few months a mutual friend of ours contacted me to ask me for a favor and I found out she didn't even know we didn't talk anymore.

Did I walk away, technically? Yeah. But you forced my hand! Why the hell would you behave like that? You didn't want to be the ~bad guy and admit you didn't want to be friends with me? So it's better to keep making fun of me and wait until we eventually stop talking? I always said I preferred honesty, even when it hurt. Or didn't you even care about that in the end?

And why didn't you? I know I messed up a lot of times, but that was a reaction, and I'm not excusing my mistakes. But just... why did you stop caring? Someone told me this is normal. Someone can care about you, but then they just stop caring as much and they move on with their lives and so should you and stuff. And it's not a matter of "my fault, your fault, their fault", it's just a fact of life.

But I guess I just can't accept that completely. I mean, maybe I'm just immature (most certainly, actually), but for me such a deep feeling of love built sharing our lives basically everyday for 6 years doesn't just go away. It's forever, even if it changes in some way to be less intense or whatever.

So basically you can get super attached to people like that and then suddenly they can just not "feel it" anymore? Which is valid for them or whatever, but how the hell am I supposed to deal with that?

One of my (two) friends said I became closed off after you. I mean, I feel like I'm open in a general sense in that I wouldn't conciously reject anything, but at the same time it's soooo bleak to think that we had what we had and it can all go away and I won't ever know if it's like that or if it's my fault or what.

How are you supposed to be ~open when this can happen again? It's just insane.. And yeah, it's only made worse by the fact that you barely registered the fact that I was in your life, apparently. You didn't mention our falling out to anyone.

I mean, I'm happy you found the right guy for you, and that you're being recognized for being so smart and capable. I don't know much about that's happening, only when people mention you casually. I don't ask, and I don't want them to elaborate. I was part of that journey up until a point, but now I'm an outsider again and that's fine. There's no going back now, no role to play in each other's lives.

But literally... why? Is that how this works? I already knew life was gonna be a bit lonely because I'm not interested in s*x and that's the gateway to meet people through apps and stuff rn, so I kinda accepted all I had was friendships, but nope. So I don't know. I do feel lonely. And I don't blame you. You were true to your nature to the very end. I guess when it comes down to it the problem is that I just don't understand what happened or I don't want to accept that things work like they do.

Well, thanks for light short talk and I hope you continue to shine

Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist

September 17, 2018

Gahd I love it :<<

Okay, first of all, I have just watched Molly’s Game, like, five-six days ago, and I was instantly hooked with Player X, that is, Michael Cera. So, it is very me to search for the characters of the movies I just watched, and it is also very me to just download random movies (I pick from this huge list from the net). So when I searched for Cera and skimmed through his movies, I instantly mentally noted Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist (NNIP). The poster is very romance-y and I wasn’t really into romance movies, but I recently watched 500 Days of Summer and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and gahd I just loved those sooo much, and so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to try one again (and it’s Cera!). So tonight, I was scrolling through my films and saw NNIP and I knew it’s gonna be a good night (spoiler: it was!).

I loved it. Soooo much. Okay. Some lines I found note-worthy:

“I don’t wanna go. I’m taking a mental health day.” Okay, first line that I thought was really woah. I mean, basically because I wish I could say that as easily as he did (hayz). I also wish I have spare days to take as my ‘Mental Health Day’ too, y’know. I wish we all have that. Kinda like one of those permissible absences we are given in colleges, or leaves in offices. A mental health day off kind of thing.

It could have some repercussions to me tho. I mean, being always reminded to keep our mental health in check kinda had negative reactions to me before. I somehow focused ‘too much’ on my mental health, and ended up overreacting to every little setback I found in my way. I was oversensitive and I just stumbled and stumbled and found it harder to move on because of how easily I was overwhelmed with things.

I mean, I’m not against Mental Health campaigns, sooo not against it. I feel everyone who needs it, everyone who needs help, should be able to get some. It’s just, it kinda didn’t work too well with me, I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t really have the proper guidance when it comes to dealing with my mental health. Bottomline is, yeah, I wish we have that mental health day hehe.

“It’s not that easy, guys. You don’t know what it’s like to be straight. It’s awful.” XDDD I wonder who has it worse, really.

Then we get the Fluffy announcement: “…the rarest show on Earth is rumored to go on after hours so keep an eye out for those little rabbits. You never know where they might lead you.” And you just know Where’s Fluffy’s a metaphor to ‘Where’s Love’, and their journey finding Where’s Fluffy would be Nick and Norah’s journey to love.

“You’re practically blowing him with your eyes.” “You cannot do anybody with your eyes, Caroline…well, you can.” I laughed at this!

I also love how Caroline is like the greatest force moving their story! Also the gum wth HAHA I don’t know what to make of it. It’s disgusting and funny how it was passed onto, like between lovers slash bffs, how the girls took extra care of it, like Caroline picked it up from the toilet, and how Norah slapped Nick’s hands first when he tried to touch it soooo I guess it’s like love? I don’t know HAHA. It was just spat into some random guy in the end tho XD

“Nicky is definitely worth the underwire. He just needs a little push, that’s all.” Aren’t we all?

“…a hundred percent, yknow, gay. Gay every day, all the time.” XDDD I do wonder, are people a hundred percent anything, tho? Everyday, all the time? I mean, aren’t we too changeable to be something all the time?

“I don’t really subscribe to any label.” Man, Nick sure does know things to say. I actually want this tattooed on my forehead right now. Or maybe wear a headband with this sign sticking on top, like taped on the cat ears. Or a hoodie, yep, that’s easier.

“Cherish one another, folks.” <3 Can we all take a moment to stamp this onto our brains.

“…she’s gone. So I think now is the time we cut our losses and go find Fluffy.” I like this scene.

I loved the search party part. I mean, all throughout you could really see and feel their friendship, but the search party part is so fun. I always wished to have those kind of cool nights with friends (I mean, give me car and we definitely will hayz).

“No, just because there was a last bus doesn’t mean she was on the last bus.” This line struck me, yo. Actually I like contemplating on ‘just because there was … doesn’t mean it was …’ logic.

I really find moments when main characters went with ‘hi’ ‘hey’ convo the special ones. And the little things stick with me.

‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand’ idea is pretty cool. (I really don’t know what to type here, it’s one of those ideas you just contemplate on)

“Since when does a queen need an excuse to sing?” Uhh, since when does anyone need an excuse to sing? I also love this Christmas show scene. And the phone booth scene, that’s so sweet!

“…you just feel ignored for long enough and it’s just nice to feel special sometimes.” A very dangerous phrase.

‘my musical soulmate’, I’d like to find mine.

“The way you’re moving in your sleep, the way you look before you leap, the strange illusions that you keep, you don’t know, but I’m noticing.” <3

“the world’s been broken into pieces and it’s everybody’s job to find them and put them back together again.” ‘Maybe we are the pieces’ idea is great!

“Are you sad we missed it?” “We didn’t miss it. This is it.” They found Fluffy <3

---

I have to say, Cera’s smile melts mah heart.

Also, Andy Samberg was in the movie!! I didn’t recognized him in the movie tho, I just saw his name in the credits (yes, we all should finish the credits), and went back and was blown away. I’ve just been obsessed with Brooklyn Nine-Nine, like just this month, share.

Edit: So yeah, I read this blog about why NNIP sucks, and I thought I was a bit too biased writing my thoughts about it. But then I realized, these are my thoughts, of course I could be biased as much as I want to. I write depending on how I felt. And I felt overflowing love watching NNIP. So, some of the character’s may be two-dimensional, and other’s might be too picky about that, but I am not. I focused on the ideas it sparked in me. And there are a lot HAHA. I kinda listed too much lines, but yahh.

[1/3] Hey. Hope this is okay to ask a question - I don't know whether I've been through trauma or not. I've always been oversensitive, so I think I may overreacting. I have probably suffered from ADD since I was a child and I was behaving a bit specifically. I was doing everything my way, couldn’t concentrate, saying things I shouldn't say, awkwardly lying, discussing little things etc. What I remember is that my parents couldn't deal with my behavior sometimes.

[2/3] They were shouting at me and telling me I was doing such things on a purpose. When I wanted to do something my way or discuss it, one of my parents got really mad at me - they were tugging my hand to make me go somewhere/do something they wanted. Sometimes they were laugh at me and telling me I'm crazy. It was making me feel like I'm the worst person on the world. I was rather hating them or myself and I wanted to die many times because of it.

Hi lovely, 

First of all, it seems that there should have been a third part to this question – unfortunately, we haven’t seemed to receive that! I will be answering to the two parts that I did receive, but if there is anything else you would like me to answer or take into consideration, please don’t hesitate to resend (a paraphrased version of) the third part of this ask. Also, it is completely okay to ask a question! We love helping you – don’t ever hesitate to ask a question. ♥︎

Secondly, I am sorry to hear that you have been struggling with all of this – I hope that I can help you a little bit with my answer.  ☺

Because every person is different, there are no “guidelines” as to which events can cause a trauma – what may not be traumatic to one person, can be to the other. Having ADD can cause behaviour that is not always seen as “normal” by society (although this does not in any way mean that it is wrong) and parents can have a difficult time dealing with that. Unfortunately, the way they dealt with it seemed to have negatively affected you. Especially for children, it can be very hard to have their parents shout at them and it is very possible that it has been a traumatic experience for you. Furthermore, your parents laughing at you and telling you that you are crazy can very well have scarred you emotionally. If you aren’t already doing so, I would really recommend seeing a mental health professional and discussing this with you, as it seems to be affecting you to this day. They may be able to help you counter the negative thoughts you have about yourself due to your parents laughing and comments. Furthermore, if you/the mental health professional feels it is needed, you can also talk to a trauma specialist, since they may be able to give you more specific help for this problem.

Since I can’t find the third part of your ask, I don’t know if you are still struggling with the suicidal ideation that you were struggling with before, due to your parents comments, but if you do, it is also a good idea to see a mental health professional about that. You won’t have to feel like you want to die forever, working through the trauma or anything else can really help you “break away” from these thoughts. Also, if you are ever in any danger, please don’t hesitate to call a helpline or contact a web counsellor, either. Even if your parents made you feel otherwise, you are very worthy of love and of life, and you are not crazy, nor are you the worst person in the world.

Furthermore, I would encourage you to talk to your parents about how what they have done has affected you. It is okay to speak up (to them, and to others) about it. They may also be able to explain to you why they did it (although that does not make it alright) and they may even be able to take some of your negative thoughts about yourself away. Because even if they did laugh at you or made negative comments to/about you, it doesn’t mean that they meant it – especially if they did it when they weren’t sure how else to handle the situation, they may just have said it out of “desperation”.  

Lastly, I want you to know that although it may feel like it, these things are not your fault – you aren’t the cause of your ADD, nor are you the cause of the symptoms you experience of them or the things that your parents have done to you. You are definitely not crazy and you aren’t the worst person in the world either. If you still struggle with these thoughts, maybe it can be helpful to use a thought record sheet to come up with counter arguments for those negative thoughts, or you could make a list of all the great qualities that you have, which you can then read to yourself every day/whenever you feel you need it, to hopefully help you feel a bit better? If the thoughts seem to be especially focussed around things caused by ADD, maybe looking at this list that explores the upside of ADD through 151 positive characteristics of people with ADD, can help you, too? 

I hope this helps!

Take care, Bobbie

The thrilling conclusion to the series that began with the instant New York Times bestseller “made for fans of Victoria Aveyard and Sabaa Tahir” (Bustle), Ember Queen is an epic fantasy about a throne cruelly stolen and a girl who must fight to take it back for her people.Princess Theodosia was a prisoner in her own country for a decade. Renamed the Ash Princess, she endured relentless abuse and ridicule from the Kaiser and his court. But though she wore a crown of ashes, there is fire in Theo’s blood. As the rightful heir to the Astrean crown, it runs in her veins. And if she learned nothing else from her mother, she learned that a Queen never cowers.Now free, with a misfit army of rebels to back her, Theo must liberate her enslaved people and face a terrifying new enemy: the new Kaiserin. Imbued with a magic no one understands, the Kaiserin is determined to burn down anyone and everything in her way.The Kaiserin’s strange power is growing stronger, and with Prinz Søren as her hostage, there is more at stake than ever. Theo must learn to embrace her own power if she has any hope of standing against the girl she once called her heart’s sister. Ember Queen (Ash Princess Trilogy #3) by Laura Sebastian Publisher: Delacorte Books For Young Readers Release Date: February 4th 2020 Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy, Romance, Fiction, High Fantasy, Science Fiction, Magic, Epic Fantasy Links: Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39216077-ember-queen Amazon: https://amzn.to/2SsOQVQ Bookdepository: https://www.bookdepository.com/Ember-Queen-Laura-Sebastian/9781509855162?ref=grid-view&qid=1581197022750&sr=1-1 Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ember-queen-laura-sebastian/1132077922?ean=9780593176863#/ iTunes: https://books.apple.com/au/book/ember-queen-ash-princess-3/id1487756107 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/ember-queen-3 Google Books: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Ember_Queen?id=28SdDwAAQBAJ&hl=en_US Review: Ember Queen by Laura Sebastian is a fantastic wrap up to the Ash Princess trilogy. When I first started Ash Princess, I wasn’t expecting to love it as much as I did. These characters are amazing and I really enjoyed living in this world. I really enjoyed Theo’s character through the whole book, but I really enjoyed her character in Ember Queen. Ember Queen did start out a bit slow like the first two books but it doesn’t take long for it to pick up. Theo’s goal is to ave her people and end the war.  The world building is amazing in this book. Ember Queen was wrapped up quite nicely. It is a bittersweet ending to an awesome trilogy. The reader gets a lot more action in this book. I think most readers will really enjoy this trilogy. I do want to warn all of you that you may want to check out the trigger warnings before picking these books up. Excerpt: Link to original source: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/556378/ember-queen-by-laura-sebastian/ Reckoning The sun is blinding when I step out of the mouth of the cave on weak legs. I lift a heavy, aching arm to shield my eyes, but the effort of even that small gesture makes the world around me spin. My knees buckle and the ground comes up to meet me, hard and sharp with rocks. It hurts, but oh, it feels so good to lie down, to have fresh air in my lungs, to have light, even if it is too much all at once. My throat is so dry, it hurts to even breathe. There is caked blood on my fingers, on my arms, in my hair. Distantly I realize that it’s mine, but I can’t say where it came from. My memories are a desert--I remember stepping into the cave, remember hearing my friends’ voices begging me to come back. And then . . . nothing. “Theo,” a voice calls, familiar but so far away. A thousand footsteps beat against the ground, each one making my head throb. I flinch away from the sound, curling tighter into myself. Hands touch my skin--my wrists, the pulse point behind my ear. They are so cold, they raise goose bumps on my skin. “Is she . . . ,” a voice says. Blaise. I try to say his name, but nothing comes out. “She’s alive, but her pulse is faint and her skin is hot,” another voice says. Heron. “We have to get her inside.” Arms scoop me up and carry me--Heron’s, I think. Again, I try to speak, but I can’t make so much as a sound. “Art, your cloak,” Heron says, his chest rumbling against my cheek with each word. “Cover her head with it. Her eyes are oversensitive.” “Yes, I remember,” Art says. Fabric rustles and her cloak falls over my eyes, wrapping my world in darkness once more. I let myself fall into it now. My friends have me, and so I am safe.   The next time I open my eyes, I’m on a cot inside a tent, the bright sun filtered through thick white cotton so that it is bearable. The pounding in my head is still there, but it’s dull and faraway now. My throat is no longer dry and raw, and if I focus, I have a hazy memory of Artemisia pouring water into my open mouth. The pillow beneath my head is still damp from where she missed. Now, though, I’m alone. I force myself to sit up even though it intensifies the pain echoing through my every nerve. The Kalovaxians will return sooner or later, and who knows how long Cress will keep Søren alive? There is so much to be done and not nearly enough time to do it. Placing my bare feet on the dirt floor, I push myself to stand. As I do, the tent flap pulls open and Heron steps inside, ducking his tall frame in order to fit through the small opening. When he sees me awake and standing, he falters, blinking a few times to ensure he isn’t imagining me. “Theo,” he says slowly, testing out the sound of my name. “How long has it been?” I ask him quietly. “Since I entered the mine?” Heron surveys me for a moment. “Two weeks,” he says. The words knock me backward, and I sit down on the cot again. “Two weeks,” I echo. “It felt like hours, maybe days.” Heron doesn’t look surprised by that. Why would he? He’s gone through the same thing. “Do you remember sleeping?” he asks me. “Eating? Drinking? You must have, at some point, or you would be in much worse shape.” I shake my head, trying to grasp what I do remember, but very little of it solidifies enough for me to hold on to. Scraps of details, ghosts that could not have been real, fire flooding my veins. But nothing more than that. “You should have left me,” I tell him. “Two weeks . . . Cress’s army could be back any day now, and Søren--” “Is alive, according to reports,” Heron interrupts. “And the Kalovaxians have received no orders to return here.” I stare at him. “How can you possibly know that?” I ask. He lifts a shoulder in a lopsided shrug. “Spies,” he says, as if the answer should be obvious. “We don’t have spies,” I say slowly. “We didn’t have spies. But we got word that the new Theyn was at his country home, two days’ ride from here. We were able to turn several of his slaves before they returned to the capital. We just received our first missive. The Theyn hasn’t ordered troops back yet. Besides, the vast majority of the army has left. It’s only Blaise, Artemisia, Erik, Dragonsbane, and me, plus a group of those still recovering from the battle. But even they’ll be going to safety with Dragonsbane in a day or two.” I barely hear him, still trying to wrap my mind around the idea of spies. All I can think of is Elpis, of what happened the last time I made a spy of someone. “I didn’t approve the use of spies,” I tell him. “You’d walked into the mine the day before the plan was hatched,” Heron says, his voice level. “You weren’t around to approve much of anything, and there was no time to wait for you to come back. If you came back at all.” A retort dies in my throat, and I swallow it. “If they die--” “It will have been a necessary risk,” Heron says. “They knew as much when they volunteered. Besides, the Kaiserin is not as paranoid as the Kaiser, from what we’ve heard. She thinks you’re dead, she thinks we aren’t a threat, she has Søren. She thinks she’s won, and so she’s getting sloppy.” The Kaiserin. Will there ever come a day when I hear that title and think first of Cress and not Kaiserin Anke? “You said the army had left,” I say. “Where to?” Heron lets out a long exhale. “You missed quite a lot of squabbling while you were gone--I almost envy you. The Vecturian chief sent his daughter Maile to assist us, along with his troops. With Søren gone, she and Erik have the most battle experience, but they don’t agree on anything. Erik wants to march straight to the capital to take the city and rescue Søren.” “That’s foolish,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s exactly what they’ll expect, and even if it weren’t, we don’t have the numbers for that kind of siege.” “That’s exactly what Maile said,” Heron says, shaking his head. “She said we should continue to the Earth Mine.” “But we can’t do that without marching past the most populous cities, without even the cover of forests or mountains,” I say. “It’ll be impossible to avoid detection, and then Cress will have an army waiting to greet us at the Earth Mine.” “Which is exactly what Erik said,” Heron says. “See, you’re all caught up.” “So who won?” I ask. “No one,” Heron says. “It was decided that we should send the troops to the cities along the Savria River. None of them is heavily populated, but we’ll be able to contain the Kalovaxians, free their slaves, add to our numbers, and collect weapons and food as well. And most importantly, our troops aren’t just waiting here like sitting ducks.” “Like we are, you mean,” I say, rubbing my temples. The headache blossoming has nothing to do with the mine this time. “And now I’m here to break the tie, I suppose.” “Later,” he says. “Once you can actually walk on your own.” “I’m fine,” I tell him, more forcefully than necessary. Heron watches me warily. He opens his mouth, but closes it again quickly, shaking his head. “If there’s something you want to ask me about the mines, I don’t remember anything,” I tell him. “The last thing I remember is going in--after that, it’s a blur.” “You will remember, in time,” he says. “For better or worse. But I know I never want to speak of my experience. I assumed you would feel the same way.” I swallow, pushing the thought aside. A problem for another day--and I have too many problems before me as it is. “But something is on your mind,” I say to Heron. “What is it?” He weighs the question in his mind for an instant. “Did it work?” he asks. For a second, I don’t know what he means, but I suddenly remember--the reason I went into the mines in the first place, the weak power I had over fire before, the side effect from Cress’s poison. I went into the mine to claim my power, in hopes that I will have enough to stand against Cress when the time comes. Did it work? There is only one way to find out. I hold my left palm up and summon fire. Even before I uncurl my fingers, I feel heat thrumming beneath them, stronger than I’ve ever felt it before. It comes easily when I summon it, like it’s a part of me, always lurking just below the surface. It burns brighter, feels hotter, but it’s more than that. To show him, I toss it into the air, hold it there, suspended but still alive, still bright. Heron’s eyes grow wide, but he says nothing as I lift my hand and flex it. The ball of fire mimics me, becoming a hand of its own. When I move my fingers, it matches each movement. I make a fist, and it does that as well. “Theo,” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I saw the extent of Ampelio’s power when he trained me. He couldn’t do that.” I swallow and take hold of the flame again, smothering it in my grip and turning it to ash in my hand. “If you don’t mind, Heron,” I say, my gaze fixed on the dark pigment that smears over my skin just as the ash crown had, “is Mina still here? She’s--” “The healer,” he supplies, nodding. “Yes, she’s still here. She’s been helping with the wounded. I’ll find her.” When he’s gone, I dust ash from my hands and let it settle into the dirt floor.   By the time Mina enters the tent, I’ve gotten used to standing again, though my body still doesn’t feel entirely like mine. Every move--every breath--feels like a labor, and every muscle aches. Mina must notice, because she takes one look at me and gives a knowing smile. “It’s normal,” she says. “When I came out of the mine, the priestesses said that the gods had broken me and remade me anew. It seemed to sum up how I felt.” I nod, easing myself back to sit on my cot once more. “How long does it last?” I ask her. She shrugs. “My pain lasted a couple of days, but it varies.” She pauses, looking me over. “What you did was incredibly foolish. Going into the mine when you already possessed a measure of power--when you were already a vessel half-full--you were asking for mine madness. You realize that, don’t you?” I look at the ground. It’s been some time since I’ve been chastised like this, by someone concerned about my well-being. I rack my mind for the last person; it very well may have been my mother. I suppose Hoa did as well, in her wordless way. “I understood the risks,” I tell her. “You’re the Queen of Astrea,” she continues, as if I haven’t spoken. “What would we have done without you?” “You would have persisted,” I say, louder this time. “I am one person. We lost far more in the war, far more in the siege itself, including my mother. We have always persisted. I wouldn’t have made a difference.” Mina fixes me with a level look. “It was still foolish,” she insists. “But I suppose it was also brave.” I shrug again. “Whatever it might have been, it worked,” I say. I show her the same thing I showed Heron, how I can not just summon fire but turn it into an extension of my own self. Mina watches me all the while with her lips pursed, not saying a word until I’ve finished and am scattering the ash to the ground once more. “And you slept,” she says, more to herself than me. “Quite heavily, as I understand it,” I say dryly. She steps toward me. “May I feel your forehead?” she asks. I nod, and she presses the back of her hand to my brow. “You aren’t warm,” she says before reaching out to touch the single tendril of white in my auburn hair. “It was there before,” I tell her. “After the poison.” She nods. “I remember. Not like the Kaiserin’s hair, is it? But I suppose you have Artemisia to thank for that--if she hadn’t used her own gift on you so quickly to negate the poison, it would have affected you far more. If it hadn’t killed you on the spot, the mine certainly would have.” “You didn’t see Cress--the Kaiserin--yourself,” I say, changing the subject. “But you must have heard stories of her power by now.” Mina considers this. “I’ve heard stories,” she says carefully. “Though I find stories are often exaggerated.” I remember Cress killing the Kaiser with just her scalding hands around his throat, the way she trailed ash over the desk with her fingertips. She radiated power in a way that I have never seen equaled. I’m not sure how anyone could exaggerate what I saw with my own eyes. “It’s as if . . . she doesn’t even have to call on her gift. She killed the Kaiser in a few seconds with just her hands,” I say. “And you still don’t feel strong enough to stand against her,” Mina guesses. “I don’t think anyone is,” I admit. “Did you ever hear of Guardians killing with that little effort?” She shakes her head. “I didn’t hear anything about Guardians killing at all,” she says. “It wasn’t their way. If a person’s crimes ever warranted execution, it was carried out by more mundane means. Guardians never did the deed with the gifts given to them by the gods. It would have been its own kind of sacrilege, a perversion of something holy.” I think about Blaise going out into the battlefield, knowing he could have died but determined to kill as many Kalovaxians as possible before he did. Was that a perversion of his gift? Or are the standards different now, in times of war? “The children I saw before, the ones you were testing,” I say, remembering the boy and girl with the same unstable power as Blaise. “How are they?” “Laius and Griselda,” she supplies. “They are as well as can be expected, I suppose. Frightened and traumatized by the horrific experiments the Kalovaxians did on them, but they’re strong in more ways than one.” She pauses for a second. “Your hypothetical friend has been helpful. They like him, standoffish though he might be. It truly is something, to discover you aren’t as alone in the world as you thought.” Excerpted from Ember Queen by Laura Sebastian. Copyright © 2020 by Laura Sebastian. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. About the Author: Laura Sebastian was born and raised in South Florida (the Redlands and Key Largo) and has always loved telling stories–many apologies to her little brother who often got in trouble because of them. No copies of her first book, a Cinderella retelling about angels circa 2nd grade, remain. Thankfully. After getting her BFA from Savannah College of Art and Design, she moved to New York City thinking that she would stay for a couple of years before going somewhere better suited for a small-town, sun-loving girl. Five years later, she’s still here and madly in love with it. When Laura isn’t writing, she’s probably reading, baking cookies or cupcakes, buying more clothes than her overstuffed closet can fit, or forcing her lazy dog Neville to take a walk. Her debut ASH PRINCESS, the start of a YA fantasy trilogy, will be out April 24th, 2018 from Delacorte (Random House). Links: Website: http://laurasebastianwrites.com/ Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15945524.Laura_Sebastian Twitter: https://twitter.com/sebastian_lk Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lauraksebastian/ Giveaway: Prize: Win (1) copy of THE EMBER QUEEN by Laura Sebastian (US Only) Starts: 16th March 2020 Ends: 30th March 2020 a Rafflecopter giveaway Tour Schedule: https://fantasticflyingbookclub.blogspot.com/2020/02/tour-schedule-ember-queen-ash-princess.html March 16th The Unofficial Addiction Book Fan Club - Welcome Post March 17th Inky Moments - Review + Favourite Quotes Ya It’s Lit - Review + Favourite Quotes Star-Crossed Book Blog - Review + Favourite Quotes Paws and Paperbacks - Review L.M. Durand - Promotional Post March 18th Booked J - Review + Playlist Confessions of a YA Reader - Review Discover Elysian - Review Lauren's Boookshelf - Review + Playlist Library of a Book Witch - Review March 19th Moonlight Rendezvous - Review + Favourite Quotes The Shelf Life Chronicles - Review Life Within The Pages - Review Fictitiouswonderland - Review BookCrushin - Promotional Post March 20th The Reading Corner for All - Review + Favourite Quotes Popthebutterfly Reads - Review Books and Zebras - Review Bookablereads - Review Bookishly Nerdy - Review + Favourite Quotes March 21st @the.magicalpages - Review + Favourite Quotes A Bookish Dream - Review Adventurous Bookworm - Review + Favourite Quotes Pacific Northwest Bookworm - Review moon & coffee - Review March 22nd Dazzled by Books - Review + Favourite Quotes @onemused - Review Annej reads - Review + Favourite Quotes Books Over Everything - Review fairytalespines - Promotional Post Instagram Schedule: March 16th The FFBC Tours TUABFC March 17th Inky Moments Ya It’s Lit Star-Crossed Book Blog Paws and Paperbacks L.M. Durand March 18th Booked J Confessions of a YA Reader Discover Elysian Lauren's Boookshelf Library of a Book Witch March 19th Moonlight Rendezvous The Shelf Life Chronicles Life Within The Pages Fictitiouswonderland BookCrushin March 20th The Reading Corner for All Popthebutterfly Reads Books and Zebras Bookablereads Bookishly Nerdy March 21st @the.magicalpages A Bookish Dream Adventurous Bookworm Pacific Northwest Bookworm moon & coffee March 22nd Dazzled by Books @onemused Annej reads Books Over Everything fairytalespines

http://www.dazzledbybooks.com/2020/03/ember-queen-blog-tour-review-excerpt.html

1-100!!!!

1. What’s your middle name, and do you like it?

patricia, and i really hate it actually lol

2. are you artistic?

i like to consider myself to be, though i don’t think so...

3. Have you had your first kiss?

lol yeah, but i feel like a dick not remembering when it was. i thought it was a different time, but i’ve been told otherwise whoops

4. What is your life goal?

being happy and financially stable probably

5. Do you have any experiences with a famous person?

actually, i performed at a bernie sanders rally. i have a picture with him, and i’ve also met shailene woodley through the rally. it was hecking neat.

6. Do you play any sports?

if i hear that marching band is a sport one more time, i’m gonna mcfreaking lose it. so, no. i do not.

7. What’s your worst fear?

abandonment or distrust

8. Who’s your biggest inspiration?

oh man, that’s hard to say. i really like jaiden from a youtube channel called jaidenanimations, because she’s so humble and artistically talented.

probably my mom too, she’s number seven on the greatest wonders of the world

9. Do you have any cool talents?

whistling? i can play ukelele? i’m good at crying idk

10. are you a morning person?

it’s so debatable honestly. i hate getting up in the morning, but i love being awake in the morning. so yes and no.

11. How do you feel about pet names?

fuckin love it, give me pet names

12. Do you like to read?

no not at all, it takes me a really good book to get me engaged on reading

13. Name a list of shows that have changed your life.

parks & rec, supernatural (not bc i loved it but because i befriended people bc of it, i actually am over spn lmao), south park??

14. Do you care about your follower count?

no, because i’m sick and tired of porn bots following me, and they are the huge majority that try to follow me until i block them

15. What’s the best dream you’ve had?

hahahahah, i had a dream that me and my bf were taking care of this proportionably large frog that could speak fluent english and was wearing a diaper. to this day, when we call each other bf and gf, it really means “big frog” and “giant frog” bc of my dream.

16. Have you ever kissed someone of your same gender?

nope, but i’ve dreamt of it.

17. Do you have any pets?

no!!! but we might get a dog pretty soon... 3/4 of the family is all in for a dog.

18. Are you religious?

lmao this sounds pretentious, but i’d say my entire family (along with me) identifies being roman catholic, but i personally consider myself for agnostic. i wouldn’t want to ultimately reject my familial identity because i was raised catholic my entire life, it would be disassociating a part of me. but if it all comes down to my beliefs, i would happily defend people who are a little ignorant against catholicism.

19. Are you a people person?

i used to???? i’m really not anymore, especially with senior year i’m really tired of people’s shit lmao

20. Are you considered popular?

oh definitely not. i don’t mean this in a very modest way either, i mean it in a way that i often disassociate.

21. What is one of your bad habits?

being oversensitive???prolly idfk

22. What’s something that makes you feel vulnerable

cry

23. What would you name your children?

i know i’m homestuck trash but i would legitimately name my child jade. not because of homestuck, but i identify so much relation to the name jade. it’s my favourite colour, my favourite type of plant, and it’s a simple four letter name with a letter j.

in terms of boy names, i really like the names jude or charlie. how fucking weird would it be having two kids name jude and jade though holy shittttt

24. Who’s your celebrity crush?

winona fuckin ryder aka pls adopt me

25. What’s your best subject?

science for sure!

26. Dogs or cats?

unpopular opinion: cats and dogs are both a gift to this world and there’s no reason to point them against each other

27. most used social media besides tumblr?

snapchat, instagram, and then facebook.

28. best friends name

shit.

um i have more than one?? dean, ana, emily, makena, and zany?

29. who does your main family consist of

my mom and dad, and my younger brother.

30. Chocolate or sugar

chocolate

31. have you ever been on a date?

yeah, my first one was ridiculously awkward though

32. Do you like rollercosters?

yeah sure, it’s aight. i have a friend who has a mental list of a bunch of rollercoaster facts, so i refer to him in case i’m really hesitant to go on one.

33. Can you swim?

kinda? i know how to actually swim across water, but i have trouble treading it

34. What would you do in the event of an apocolypse?

ok here’s where my hiding place would be. and i encourage people to do the same actually.

hide the fuck out in costco. the walls are thick as hell so it’d be a struggle for zombies to break into. costco is spacey as fuck, so you can camp out anywhere and it’d be okay. you pretty much have a life supply of food, as well as other supplies because it’s a mega mart.

you’re good pretty much for the rest of your life if you think about it, i know i would!

35. Have you struggled with any kind of mental disorder

i don’t believe so. i’ve never been diagnosed of anything but i also never know.

36. Are your parents together?

yeah

37. What’s your favourite colour?

green, but i can’t decide on any shade of green. i love all the greens.

38. What country are you from/do you live in?

usa! usa! usa!

39. Favourite singer?

currently the 1975 from the top of my head

40. Do you see yourself being famous some day?

absolutely not, i don’t wish to be

41. Do you like dresses?

yes!!!!!! i love dressing very feminine!!!!! dresses with pockets are the best

42. Favourite song right now?

“lifeboat” from heathers the musical

43. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?

kind of, i’m actually a bit repulsed by sex... but mayhaps in the future when i find the right person?? idk

44. How old were you when you first got your period?

12 y/o i think

45. Have you ever shot a gun?

oh no, not really. kinda intimidating

46. Have you ever done yoga?

not as an active hobby

47. Are you a horror girl?

oh HELL yeah, i’m a horror to this socie––

just kidding, yes i do like horror movies. still scared of it though, but i like it!!

48. Are you good at giving advice?

the irony here is that i’ve been told i do tell good advice, but i NEVER follow my own advice

49. Tell us a story about your childhood.

one time, my dad accidentally left the back door locked from the backyard when i was in a kiddie pool. it all of a sudden started raining, and i couldn’t open the door to get inside because it was locked. i was sick the next day.

50. How are you doing today?

honestly, i could be doing better but right now i’m just chilling

51. Were you a cute kid?

i think so!!! i take pride in my days during elementary school....middle school is a different story though.

52. Can you dance?

yes!! it bothers me when people say they can’t dance, when i think anyone can! it’s all a matter of taking pride in your dance moves!! can you take pride in your dance moves?

but, in terms on doing it as a hobby, no! i used to.

53. Is there anything you do that you can’t remember ever not doing?

i don’t understand this question lmao

54. Have you ever dyed your hair?

no, but i actually would love to die the underside of my hair a deep teal/turquoise!!

55. What colour are your eyes?

dark brown, but golden under light. it’s pretty neat.

56. What’s your favourite animal?

i don’t consider this my favourite animal but i still love them a lot

look up the argentine red tegu lizard

also, i really like ladybugs!!

57. Have you ever made a huge fool of yourself?

always everyday

58. Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

with my mom, yes! i tell her everything, and she’s so sweet and patient!

with my dad, kinda!

59. Do you have good friends?

sure :^)

they just are too far away

60. Are you close with anyone of the lgbtq+ group?

a lot of people yes! two of my best friends are bisexual, and majority of my friends are allies!

61. What’s your favourite class?

i actually don’t have one, every class that i’ve ever known has some form of annoying the hell out of me

62. List all the tv shows you are watching.

none currently as we speak, but i’m waiting for the next season of american horror story and stranger things to appear. i am watching a series of unfortunate events with dean, but we’re only on episode 4 together. it’s been a long time since we’ve watched an episode though, because we always want to watch it together.

63. Are you organized?

somewhat? i am more organized than others, but i’m very great at hiding my disorganization from others to give off the illusion that i am organized.

i like to think that my obsessive compulsive personality is the cause of that honestly.

64. What was the last movie you saw? Opinion?

la la land, a fav of mine

67. Which tv character do you relate to most?

shit man, there’s a lot of fictional characters i relate with.

veronica sawyer from heathers

jade harley from homestuck

dirk strider from homestuck

heather mcnamara from heathers

lucy van pelt from charlie brown

terra from teen titans

over half of these aren’t from tv though lmao

68. What are some things that stand between you and complete happiness?

i try to confront it. if i failed even after confronting it, i accept that it’s simply just not meant to be. which sucks if you think about it, but i am way too passive for my well being.

69. If you received enough money to never need to work again, what would you spend your time doing?

traveling, and maybe saving that money for my future children and their college intuition.

70. What would you change about your life if you knew you would never die?

probably being friends with certain people... there’s a lot of relationships i really regret.

71. What would you do differently if you knew that no one was judging you?

being more bitter and negative publicly. people sometimes feel the need to take advantage of others who are considerably weaker than them, and i feel that i often put myself in that position. if i relentlessly take no shit and kinda??? scare people away, i don’t feel the paranoia of getting hurt by others

yikes this is getting negative zero to a hundred real quick

also, i know i’m not really phrasing it right, but hopefully you know what i mean!!

72. If you could start over, what would you do differently?

but at the same time, i’m also really content where i am now. i know i can improve more internally, but i also don’t really care for change.

73. Would you break the law to save a loved one?

definitely

74. When was the last time you travelled somewhere new?

during christmas break, i went to big bear!!

i also went to las vegas that same break, but it’s not a new place hahaha

75. When you think of your home, what immediately comes to mind?

dean

76. What have you done to pursue your dreams lately? How about today?

shit, idk i’m still drowning in teen angst at the moment, i’m not doing anything revolutionary or some shit atm

77. What did you want to be when you were a kid?

a cartoonist. i still kinda wanna be one, especially knowing my art is improving so much, and i’m getting more exposure as an artist, and i’m landing myself on better platforms of art.

but it’s a tough and risky job opportunity. i’d love to do it as a hobby.

78. If you dropped everything to pursue your dreams, what would you be risking?

um, probably my relationship with people now. i don’t have a lot of artsy friends except maybe four; but even so, putting my effort all in an animation project requires a lot of independent work.

probably financial stability too.

79.When did you not speak up, when you know you really should have?

when i realized that i was slowly losing my closest friend.

i still miss them lmao

80. Describe the next five years of your life, and your plans, in a single sentence

financially stable, happily in love with someone who accepts me, in a small home with plants and dogs.

81. What would happen if you never wasted another minute of your life, what would that look like?

i’d probably be on top of my homework, and applying for a full ib diploma

but i wouldn’t really be artistically and musically talented, nor would i have a lot of friends

82. If you could live forever, how would you spend eternity?

i would consistently changing personas every decade and seek out a whole new lifestyle

83. How would you spend a billion dollars?

irresponsibly, realistically

84. If you could time travel, would you go to the past or the future?

future. the past sucks ass no matter what. but years after trump became president and then some, assuming the next president has a lot of cleaning up to do.

85. What motivates you to succeed?

knowing that someone out there genuinely believes in me.

even one person makes a difference.

86. What dream that you’ve had has resonated with you the most?

probably being in love in such a young age. albeit it’s lame to assume of such idealistic things like that, but it’s always something worth fighting for. the future sounds brighter if remembering that someone loves you unconditionally.

also i have met more dogs everyday.

87. Would you rather live in the city or the woods? Why?

woods? i really wanna do a lot on my garden if i can!!

88. Do you believe in life after death

i consider it hopeful/wishful thinking, so i wouldn’t be opposed to it being true.

though i think of eternal bliss as a bigger possibility since i was brought up to believe it.

89. What teacher inspired you the most? How did they?

my sophomore and junior year english teacher, mrs. beatty. she never forgot about me despite how quiet of a kid i was, and she always believed in my fullest potential.

dr. vanstrom, my human anatomy & physiology teacher is really great too, i consider her a really great teacher, but i have no person relationship with her. 

90. What’s your fondest childhood memory?

my old family friend, christopher, and i were vacationing with our families at lake arrowhead during winter break when i was like, eight i think. there’s this very quaint townsquare near the area we were staying at, and the two of us walked around the townsquare.

we really freaked our parents out though, because they thought that we were lost or kidnapped because we left without supervision or telling them where we were going, but i remember going to a candy store to get gummy bears in the freezing cold.

i wonder how christopher’s doing though.

91. If you could have dinner with any one person, living or dead, who would they be and why?

malala yousafzai, just because she’s such an inspiration.

92. What would you have to see to cry tears of joy?

it doesn’t take me a lot to cry over anything, trust me.

i cried once because someone’s chocolate meringue pie was delicious.

i cried once because a really fluffy puppy was rolling over.

93. What is the hardest lesson you had to learn in life?

it’s okay to miss people from a distance, but it’s not okay to ask them to come back. i think it’s important that the toxic relationships you decide to refrain from is a very valid and hard decision to make, so i’m proud of you if you get out of it. you deserve so much better to put yourself back into such a vicious cycle.

94. What do you think happens after we die?

everything is black for eternity

95. What would you do if you would be invisible?

?????honestly?????what CAN you do while you’re invisible other than spying people???

invisibility is such a shitty power, i want the power to read minds selectively so i can ace every academic test in the future and be accepted from every job application FUCK

96. What’s something you can’t do no matter how hard you try?

i can’t really seem to shake the idea of negative thoughts and insecurities. of course it’s inevitable for literally everyone at some point, but it still sucks having

97. Would you want to choose the sex and appearance of your offspring?

no, i really want to give my child the freedom to choose who they want to be or who they want to present themselves as. i as the parent should love them unconditionally

98. How did your first crush develop?

eh, his friend told me that he liked me and i believed it

i shouldn’t have though, because there was really no evidence that he liked me, and he even denied it when his friends straight up told me

thinking about it now, i think he never really did like me, and his friend was just being a dick. and i latched onto that idea which was even worse holy shit

99. Is there a feeling you are trying to ignore? What is it?

yeah dude, i’m sure everyone is though

100. Do you live or do you just exist?

existing for sure.

thanks dude!!!