The Many Lives of Kurt Wagner

Kurt fell onto his bed and sighed. It had been another grueling day in the Sub-Real office. In one meeting after another, excitable fanfic authors had asked him to act out weird and far-fetched scenes - everything from blowing up a toy factory to tatting lace.

Then there were the hospital scenes. Burns were a popular malady. So was malnutrition.

And the romance! According to the writers, he was madly in love with Jean, Rogue, Kitty, Ororo, Wanda, Amanda, an unknown woman from his past, Jillian, and *Todd*. It made him so uneasy - they frequently demanded bedroom scenes - that he couldn't bring himself to have a real love affair.

Not that anyone cared about his *real* life, which was in truth fairly dull. Nooo, the authors had to have crazy stories about brutal murders and reincarnation. And not just in the present - they insisted on rewriting his history. Sometimes he was a demon from an alternate dimension, sometimes a slave to Amara. Sometimes he was five years old, and sometimes several thousand. Sometimes his name was Michael, Mikie, Daemon, Aranel, or Zagruul.

Sometimes the authors only needed him for a day, and then he was free from that adventure. Sometimes they smirked and declared that their fic would go on forever.

Sometimes they drew pictures. The artists came up with truly bizarre designs, more than a few of which involved nudity. Others involved extra body parts or clothes that he would *never* wear. But did they ever ask *his* opinion? Certainly not.

He had a hard time keeping opinions, these days. The authors played freely with his frame of mind. He was animalistic. He was a villain. He was nauseatingly ethical.

Kurt rolled over, wishing again that he had a real lover to share his bed with. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Maybe he would dream of Ororo in a garden. Maybe he would dream a secret dream of his own.

*

Kurt flipped open his pocket organizer as he walked into the office, nodding absently at the secretary's greeting. His first meeting was with the InterNutter, about her story _Elf Service_.

Kurt sighed. InterNutter was one of the banes of his existence. Not only was she prone to throwing him into more than one adventure at a time, but she had a history of making him repeatedly fall in love with Kitty. And her backstories! While not as ridiculous as those some other authors came up with, they were long and involved and didn't contain a single molecule of truth.

_Elf Service_, however, largely ignored the "fanfic continuity" InterNutter frequently boasted about. It was a difficult fic to get in character for. An actor in the real world would have needed hours to get dressed for the part. Fortunately, Kurt lived in Sub-Reality and could imagine himself into the role within a few minutes.

He reached his office and sat on one side of the worktable, spinning his chair to face the filing cabinet as he fell into it. Drawer 2, E-J. He squeezed the button, pulled the handle, and peered into the forest of hanging folders. Ah. _Elf Service_.

Kurt drew out the folder and lay it open on the desktop. Unlike some of the ignored Sub-Reality residents, like Taryn and even Evan, he couldn't even begin to keep track of the plots he was involved in. He had made it a strict habit to keep notes on each character he played.

InterNutter was fifteen minutes late. "Hello hello!" she called, barging into the room and dropping her fat notebook with a {thwack}. "You will not believe what my kid did this morning. He found the -"

Kurt nodded politely, tuning out while the author ranted.

"- you listening? *Hello*?"

"Uh?"

"Nice of you to join me," she said sarcastically. "Now in this scene -"

{Knock knock knock}

"Yeah, come in!" she shouted.

The door cracked open, and Duncan Matthews leaned in, peering down at his watch. "Elf Service? Am I late?"

"Not at all!" InterNutter gestured invitingly. "Come on in, siddown. Now, in this scene you guys are fighting. Duncan, you - dammit." Leaning back in her chair, she shouted out the still-open door. "EXTRA!"

Almost instantaneously, a non-descript person of indeterminate gender appeared just inside the room.

"High school student," InterNutter said authoritatively. "Boy. Geek."

The Extra shimmered and took on the stereotypical facade of just such a character.

"Good. *Now*, Duncan, you're pulverizing him against the lockers. SCENE!"

The bare, featureless far end of the large room flashed, much as the Extra had, and became a hallway in Bayville High. Duncan and the Extra took their places.

"Okay," InterNutter sized up the scene. "Duncan is doing the dumb jock-bully thing, and Kurt, you stop him. ACTION!"

Duncan pretended to punch the Extra. Kurt, in the tattooed holographic form required by this role, advanced and grabbed Duncan's sleeve. "Stop that," he commanded.

"CUT! 'Stop that'?" InterNutter grimaced. "You're eloquent in this fic, Kurt. And slightly old-fashioned. I'm going to ignore that line - keep going."

"What did you say to me, freakboy?" Duncan glared at his smaller co-worker.

"I said, uh, I said you have no true power over him," Kurt improvised. "Because, um, those with power earn their respect, not - eh - demand it."

"Good!" InterNutter scribbled furiously. "Keep going!"

In a flash of inspiration, Duncan bantered with "Earn *this*!" He turned from the Extra and faked an attack on Kurt.

"PAUSE! Good! Now Duncan, you're on the floor over there, because Kurt is going to use some nifty non-violent move on you. Go!"

While she spoke, Duncan moved to his assigned location, and the Extra faded into the background.

"Help!" he screamed when the action resumed. "My arm's broke!" He writhed in well-acted agony.

"It's not broken," Kurt said. "I just gave you a Vulcan neck-pinch."

"CUT!" InterNutter raged. "Kurt, can't you remember you're from *Nova Roma*? You don't know Star Trek in this fic!"

"But it's always my favorite show in your stories..." he tilted his head.

"But not in this one," she said firmly. "Take it again from 'it's not broken', but leave off the contractions."

"It is not broken," Kurt announced to Duncan. "I - disrupted a nerve cluster?"

"Better!"

"You will - be able to use your arm again by this afternoon."

"And add something self-righteous!"

Kurt shook his finger at the football player. "Until then, think about the *proper* uses for it!"

"Okay, good." InterNutter nodded, energetically stabbing her pen to form the last iotas and full-stops. "I can work with that. Take a break." Abandoning her writing materials, she strode from the room.

"Jeez," Duncan stood up and dusted himself off. "Is she tough or what?"

"Tell me about it," Kurt groaned. He crossed to the sideboard and picked up the plastic pitcher. "Water?"

"Thanks."

Kurt filled two plastic cups, passed one to Duncan, and raised the other to his lips. His eyes roved the room while he poured the refreshing drink down his throat, coming to rest on the large wall-clock. He looked emptily at it for several moments, then pulled a spit take.

"Shit!" he coughed. "I'm supposed to be in Kitty's room!"

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "*Again*?"

"Shut up," Kurt threw his cup into the trash and bolted for the door.

"What about InterNutter?"

"Lead her into a rant - she'll never notice I'm gone!"

Kurt raced down the hallway, shouldering open the last door on the right. "Sorrysorrysorry!"

Kitty stared at him. "My God, Kurt, what happened to you?"

He glanced down. "Damn magical bindings plot device... what are we working on here?"

"_Ran Away and Joined the Circus_," Kitty supplied.

"Aww, not *that* one," Kurt groaned. "Couldn't they at least come up with a better title?" He paused, concentrating on changing his appearance to one more suitable for his current job. "Who's writing today?"

"Me," Taekwondodo raised her hand.

Kurt studied her. "Are you the one who takes *forever* to say anything? Because I have other authors waiting..."

"It'll be short, I promise."

"I mean, I mostly just sit in a cage for this story, so if you don't really need me then -"

"We need you for this scene," Kitty interjected.

"Do I get lines?" he asked hopefully.

"Well, no, but -"

"Aright," he clapped his hands. "Let's just do this and get out."

"Uh... scene, please," Taekwondodo said to the dynamic room.

The dull grey tiles vanished, replaced by a fairgrounds with a prominent cage in the middle of the area.

"Places and props?"

Kurt climbed inside the cage, while Kitty stood beside it. Half a hot dog materialized in her hand.

"Okay," said the authoress, "so those two girls have just left. What do you do now?"

Kitty affected a teary expression, even managing to make a single drop slide down her cheek. Kurt, not to be outdone, pressed against the bars and rubbed his cheek against Kitty's elbow.

Kitty sighed loudly, looking at the hot dog while waiting for the verbose writer to finish describing her emotions. She glanced around, then stage-whispered, "Here, Kurt. Sorry there isn't any relish or jalapeno."

She poked the sausage into the enclosure. Kurt, with a low grumble of annoyance, took it with his teeth and managed to swallow it. Pretending not to notice there had been just one, he looked around for further offerings.

Kitty stroked Kurt's head. He glared at her murderously, at the same time forcing a loud purr.

"I'll come back soon," she said, then dropped her voice. "Kurt - please be here when I do?"

The two stood still for a moment. Then: "You get that?"

"Yes," Taekwondodo capped her pen. "Thank you."

"No problem," Kitty smiled.

"Yeah." Kurt pushed open the hidden back door of the cage and stepped out. "Listen, can I talk to you about that _Playing With Fire_ story? The one where I'm a miserable wreck and can't seem to perform?"

"It's a result of your traumatic past," Taekwondodo said.

"Right, well, I've been thinking - can we change that?" He fidgeted with his ear. "There are lots of people with perfectly ordinary childhoods, you know. And the whole angsty tortured thing has been done to death."

"Um, well, that's kind of -"

"I mean, Kitty doesn't have any psychological issues in that story. She's just kind of - there? And if I have such deep-seated fears of sexual encounters, why am I pining and fantasizing in every other chapter?"

"Uh..." Taekwondodo's eyes darted back and forth. "Hey, wouldya look at the time! Sorry, other interfics to work on..." She made a hasty move for the door.

"Yeah?" Kurt challenged her back. "And how many of them am I in?"

Taekwondodo froze. "I think I hear the kidlets calling!" And then she vanished with admirable speed.

As soon as Taekwondodo left the room, it reverted to its basic, office-like state.

"I kinda like _Playing With Fire_," Kitty commented.

"I know you do." Kurt, facing away from her, rolled his eyes. "You get to sit and stare at me naked while *she* catches up to the action."

"Yeah..." Kitty said dreamily.

"That's real nice," Kurt said, edging towards the door. "But work awaits - bye."

He strode to the elevator bank, hit the Up button, and waited, humming a directionless tune. Soon the car arrived, and he squeezed in amongst the throngs of other characters traveling through the building.

"Good morning, Robin," he greeted.

"Ohayo," she murmured.

"Good morning, Link."

"Hey, Kurt. How ya' doin'?"

"Can't complain, thanks. Whoops - this is my floor."

He stepped out and headed quickly across the hall to Art Studio 1.

The artist was already waiting for him, her easel set up and a large rock sitting incongruously on the wooden floor.

"Oh, good job!" he smiled. "I love a punctual fanworker. You are... ?"

"Neemers," she offered her hand.

He grasped it firmly. "Right, I remember you. _X-Wars_?"

"Among others," she agreed shyly.

"Okay." He braced his hands on his hips. "What have you got for me today?"

"Brooding in your church," Neemers said. "Sort of laying on the rock, you know?"

"Got it," he moved towards the scenery.

"In your shorts, if you don't mind..."

Kurt paused. "Anything for you," he said flatly, rolling his shirt up over his head and hanging it on a chair.

The work progressed smoothly from there. He merely looked thoughtfully at the opposite wall while Neemers drew. After several moments, there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?"

It opened, and a dark-suited security guard leaned around the frame. "Mr. Wagner - is this a bad time?"

"No, no, just an art job. What is it, Darrel?"

"Sir, we've got a Code 21."

"Unauthorized ficcing?" Kurt's eyes narrowed. "Where's the little miscreant?"

"We're not sure, sir."

"Well, find them!" His eyes flicked around the room. There! What was that in the mirror? He rolled over just in time to see a head duck below the sill of the studio window. The seventh story studio window. "Never mind," he grumbled, sliding off the rock.

"You there!" He threw open the sliding pane. "What are you -"

It was pretty obvious what the girl was doing. She was floating in mid-air, clutching a yellow legal pad and a thick pen. "Uh... hi?"

"Amicitia," Kurt sighed. "You have to stop doing these things."

"Ami!" Jean's voice floated up from below. "I can't do this much longer!"

Ami glared at the redhead on the sidewalk. "Shut up, teleki-slave! Hey!"

Kurt skimmed over the paper he'd just snatched from the hovering authoress. "'Kurt fell onto his bed and sighed, it had been another grueling day in the -' What is this? These things never happened!"

"Oh yes they did!"

"But I'm only a Sub-Reality character! How could I have these thoughts?"

"I've studied philosophy!" Ami floated a little higher. "You can't so easily confuse me with existentialist puzzles! And anyway," she smirked, "I've seen you in Sub-*Sub*-Reality, and *that* means - oh shit." She scrabbled at suddenly very thin air before plummeting towards the pavement. "Back-up plan!" she screamed.

A yellow balloon materialized in her outstretched hand. Instantly, she swelled to four times her normal girth. Her descent slowed. "Good thing I'm also a Super Mario fan," she said in a distorted voice.

She landed gently beside a thoroughly-exhausted Jean, and huffed out the extra air.

"I told you this was a bad idea," the telepath panted.

"But I'm making people so happy..."

"People?" Jean looked up from where she was bent over. "What people?"

"Those people," Ami pointed.

Jean looked. "What?! Not *you*! You like reading about people's private lives, huh? You like intruding on their thoughts? Why don't you go watch the Biography Channel, you voyeuristic freak? Go on! Get -"

*

"Chchchchchaaah," Ami choked, batting feebly at Jean's hands where they were tightly clenched around her throat.

"Stop!" a strong voice commanded. Jean did so, backing away a step. "And no more of that," Terrestra said, jabbing threateningly with her double-naginata.

Ami was too busy thinking about oxygen to come to the obvious conclusion: that her good pal Scribbler was in the area.

"I didn't figure you one for character-bashing, Am," Scribbler said, coming up and giving the younger authoress a solid pound on the back.

"Not," Ami panted.

"Really?" Scribbler glanced at the fuming Jean. "Then how, pray tell, did you come to be throttled by an External Character?"

"Unauthorized Sub-Reality ficcing," Ami admitted, recovering herself enough to not need verbs like "wheezed" or "gasped".

"Oh, Am," Scribbler shook her head sadly. "Why don't you just ask permission before running off like that?"

Ami stuck out her lower lip. "Because I'm providing a peek into the hidden lives of Sub-Reality residents. They can't know I'm here."

"Well, I'm kinda doing the same, just... legally."

"What, you're still working on that ABCDEFG fic?"

"STFIWTGO," Scribbler said, non-plussed. "Yes. Say, can I see what you've written so far?"

"You could, if Kurt hadn't stolen my pad."

"Ouch." The two fanficcers looked at each other for a moment. "So, uh... how is this scene happening?"

"You're writing it down."

"I am?" Scribbler looked in surprise at her spiral-bound notebook. "Huh. Damn writer's reflexes. Listen, I'm going up to the Office. Can you behave yourself, or do I have to ask Terrestra to poke you?"

"Ooh, ooh," Amicitia pulled a tiny video camera from her jacket pocket. "Can I come with? I'll be *really* quiet."

Scribbler eyed her friend doubtfully.

"Pleeeaaase?"

Scribbler sighed. "I'm going to regret this."

*

Scribbler strode purposefully across the Square and into the Office. "Hi," she said to the secretary. "Could you tell me where Kurt Wagner is?"

The woman leafed through the schedules piled haphazardly on her desk. "He should be in the cafeteria now."

"Thanks." Scribbler directed her steps down the hallway on the left. Entering the canteen, she soon spotted her target.

"Hi." She slid onto the bench opposite him.

"Not you again," Kurt sighed around a mouthful of pastry.

"Don't worry," Scribbler smiled reassuringly. "I'm only interviewing today."

"You have ten minutes," he warned. "Ask quickly."

"Okay. Number one. Why do you think you're such a popular character?"

"Because I have canon hints of a traumatic past, and other apparent social issues, and so am easy to terrorize."

"But Scott definitely has a traumatic past, and *he's* not so popular."

"You want a different answer?" Kurt tore his croissant in half. "Because writing fic about me is another way of staring at the freak."

Scribbler leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Do you really feel that way?"

"No!" he laughed. "Not at all. Seriously. Do you see anyone in this room running, screaming, or making hex signs?"

Scribbler looked around. Admittedly the cafeteria was not crowded at this hour, but the few diners were engrossed in their food, their reading materials, or their conversation partners. Not a single one was looking in her direction.

"Why do you think that is?" she asked, turning back to her interviewee.

Kurt shrugged. "Sub-Realtors are even more blasé than New Yorkers in your world. We've seen everything at least twice, what with you authors and your hyperactive imaginations. And anyway, we're all just honest people trying to earn a living."

"Do you earn more for working more?"

"I *wish*!" Kurt popped the tab on his soda can. "If the pay scale worked like that, I'd have retired to Paradise by now. But nope, no Flower Maidens for me."

"I think I'm missing a reference," Scribbler said blankly.

"Never mind. Hey, how are you doing on that long story? _About Monsters and Swords_?"

"_Of Beast and Blade_," Scribbler corrected flatly.

"Right, that one. Is Rogue going to die already or what?"

"What? No, she's not going to -"

"Because she's been pretty much a vegetable for what, four chapters now? Just kill her already! Not that I don't like her, but seriously, it takes you three hours to get down a scene that other authors would wrap in twenty minutes. Always with the descriptions and drawn-out battle scenes and -"

"That's my *style*, thanks."

"Okay, good for you. I've got another meeting. Here, have a cookie." He pushed his plastic-wrapped dessert across the table and hurried out.

As soon as he cleared the cafeteria doors, Kurt slowed his pace. He took his time going back upstairs, even choosing the stairs over the elevator.

_They think I think I'm a freak!_ He snorted. He was mind-numbingly *normal* compared to some of the characters from, say, "Monster Ranchers".

Too soon, he reached his office and let himself in. Nobody noticed his entrance, but not because nobody was there.

"We're working on _Beauty and the Beast_ today," Christa Winters said.

"No, we're working on _Here Kitty Kitty_," objected Meredith.

"You just want to do that one so you can write smut!"

"If I wanted to write *smut*, I'd work on _Quixotic_."

"But since *I'm* here," Christa reasoned, "we're doing tagfic, and I pick _Beast_."

"Fine."

"Fine."

The two authoresses bent over a stack of loose-leaf paper.

Kurt labored over the lace, giving his best effort to keep it straight and neat.

Meanwhile Kitty wondered what gift she would get for Kurt.

He would do this! He would make it right - make it perfect - for Kitty.

She went to the garden to ponder. Since she had missed her chance to buy a present in the village, she would have to make something.

Sitting in the moonlit garden, Kitty invoked the Triple Goddesses. "Hekate, Morrigaine, Diana... advise my path."

Meredith lifted her pen, and Christa quickly scanned the line. "Mer, Kitty is Jewish!"

"It's an Alternate Universe!" Meredith defended.

"She's still Jewish," Christa insisted.

"Fine."

"Fine."

Meredith crossed out her last addition and continued.

Back in the village, Kitty's sisters were employing all their feminine wiles to seduce Duncan and Pietro. Suddenly, Jean gasped. "It is almost sundown!" she cried. "We must hurry home and light the Sabbath candles!"

Tabitha furrowed her brow. "But it is Tuesday!"

"Did I say Sabbath? I meant Hannukah!"

"But sister," Tabitha objected, "it is July!"

Meredith finished reading and glared up at Christa. "Are they Jewish or not?"

"They *are*," Christa snapped. "But it's July."

"Then why does it keep snowing? And the earlier garden scenes *specifically* state -"

"Time has passed!"

"When?"

"You must have missed it," Christa sniffed. "My writing style is different from yours."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Meredith drew a dividing line under the controversial passage and started again.

"I will give him a gift of the flesh!" Kitty decided.

"But I'm a vegetarian," she worried.

"I will worship him with my body," she clarified.

"But I'm still Jewish," she added.

Then Felina completely took over her rational mind and -

Christa, reading over Meredith's shoulder, didn't even let her writing partner finish that sentence. "We are writing _Beauty and the Beast_," she grated through clenched teeth. "Felina is not in this fic."

Meredith threw down her pen. "If you know all the answers, why don't you just instafic it?"

"Because I'm busy!"

"Doing what? Writing every other word of the _Rules_?"

Neither authoress noticed Kurt turn around and run for his life.

Not that he got far, owing to the large crowd in the hallway.

"One at a time, one at a time!" said someone he could not see. "Yes, you can share characters. Who? Yes, fine..."

Fred was much easier to spot. Kurt reached up and tapped his co-worker on the shoulder. "What's going on here?" he asked. "And what are you doing with that Black Mage?"

A voice emanated from the darkness beneath the hat. "I'm not the Black Mage, I'm The Bob! Beware my Hobos of D00M!"

Grimacing, Kurt rubbed the LeetSpeak out of the air.

"Oh, he's doing me," said Fred.

Somewhere, an Innuendo Muse snickered.

"I mean he's *writing* about me."

"Oh. Do you mind if I ...?"

"No, not at all."

Kurt slipped ahead in line, only to come face-to-face with -

"Amanda?"

"Hey, Kurt," she said cheerily. "I think we're going to need you for this one."

"What one?" he asked suspiciously.

"I call it," a strange, darkly-dressed boy outlined a title in the air, "Amanda's World."

"Haven't heard of it."

"Oh, you will soon," the author grinned maliciously.

"I'm sure I will," he said dryly. "Listen, do you mind if I pass you?"

"Yes."

"No," Amanda said quickly.

"Stop right there."

Kurt did. It wasn't worth finding out if the dread-locked girl's glare could get any worse.

"It is *my* turn," said the authoress, her fox-like tail bristling. "And *you* are going to wait."

"I'm going to wait quietly," Kurt agreed.

"Now," the girl turned to face the table. "I am Kiki, and I claim," she pointed at her partner's head, "Ray's hair."

Kurt looked. Ray grinned sheepishly.

The girl behind the table laughed. "I look forward to it!"

"Is that all?"

"Yup, you're all registered."

"Fantastic."

After waiting for Kiki to be a safe distance away, Kurt advanced to the desk. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Yma," the girl replied.

Kurt tugged on his earlobe. "Pronounce that again?"

"Yma."

"That's what I thought. Well, *Yma*, what are you doing?"

"I'm holding a fic challenge for underappreciated characters," she stated. "I'm afraid you're not on the list."

He stared at her for a long time. "I remember you," he said finally. "You're dyslexic. That means you don't follow the rules."

"No, actually it's a learning disability that -"

"Not interested in your excuses!" Kurt said loudly. "Now, I believe you're violating fire code. Clear off your mob, or I'm calling security. And I don't want to have to bother them again today."

"Fine," Yma sniffed. Turning her clipboard to a new page, she wrote the bulky table out of existence. "Everyone who still needs to register, follow me!"

The eager contestants trooped after her. As they passed, Kurt was sure he heard someone say, "That Yma is one sexy slave-mama."

Still with the vague idea of getting *away* from the bickering pair in his office, Kurt proceeded down the hall. Hearing voices near the vending machine, he ducked into the drinking fountain alcove.

"Okay, listen to this," said a feminine voice. "It's Halloween, right?"

"If you want it to be," replied a male.

"Well, let's say it's Halloween. So Kurt's costume is, you know, the Bayville Demon, right?"

"Naturally."

"And then Duncan also dresses up as the Bayville Demon."

"Ah-hah."

"And they're at the school costume party. And Duncan gets jealous of Kurt's costume, and offers to buy it."

"I think I see where this is going."

"Right, so Kurt says no, and Duncan tries to steal it but ..."

"Yeah, I get the idea."

"Do you want to write it?"

"Why don't *you* write it? It's your plotbunny."

"Yeah, well... maybe I'll interfic it."

There were soft footsteps on the carpeted floor, and a third voice joined the conversation. "Have you guys seen Kiki?"

"No, why?"

"She's writing a fic about Ray's hair and I must read it immediately."

"Oh, oh," the man snapped his fingers. "For Yma's challenge? I think they all went downstairs."

"Thanks 'bean."

Kurt pressed back into the shadows as the girl passed, which was fortunate, because just then the door behind him opened. A strange, cat-like person (presumably female) emerged from the ladies' room and padded away without noticing him.

"Ooh!" exclaimed the girl by the vending machine. "Why don't you write a fic about Roberto nailing Ray's hair to the ceiling?"

"No, no," the man sighed. "It has to be his *kidneys*. That's why it's a running gag."

"What if *Sam* nailed Ray's hair to the ceiling? Would that be an amusing variation on a theme?"

"Variation on a theme?" Kurt could *hear* the raised eyebrow.

"No relation to Mer's fic..."

"You know, 'boots, you're not supposed to be in the A/O section."

"Bob goes there," the girl said sullenly.

"Bob is a lost cause."

Unknown Source

Aden

Malk

*Alliriyan

Insane Penman

Tergon

Eleke

Nandireya

Skiltch

*Kladyelf

Jack B. Nimble