#i still haven't played dead kings

[neoendydy]

responses for ask blog thingy as arno

#arno dorian #arno victor dorian #assassin's creed unity #assassin's creed #i still haven't played dead kings #didnt know they existed lol #wanna start it soon

[just-some-random-blogger]

Out Of Luck

"Perhaps I'm not the only one who's going to be wed in King's Landing," Sansa jeers with a grin. I glare at her, "if you weren't my sister, I'd have stabbed you." The girl giggles and takes my arm.

Petyr Baelish & Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader | 3k+ | cw: fem!reader, descriptions of reader (black hair), widow!reader, enemies to lovers?, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: felt right so I'm writing it. Yes, I added Harwin Strong, yes I know it's not canon. It is now in my world 😌 anyway, he's still dead so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ Cross posted on AO3!

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @otteropera

"Father" I call with a smile. He spots me and I lift my skirt as I jog up to him.

The man hides what he was holding behind him. He smiles and meets me halfway in the hall. He greets me good morrow when I link my arm with his and kiss his cheek.

"And is that... a very important tool of the Lord Hand?" I tilt my head as I ask, "might I not even see it?"

He sighs and slowly brings the object in front of him. We both look at the brightly dressed doll. My father has an apprehensive look on his face. I hold back a laugh, "ah, a pretty dolly. Are you quite bored of your job already? Do they give dolls to the Hand or were you duped into buying this?"

"I knew you'd say something like this," he mutters.

"If you knew I'd say it, why'd you still get it, papa?" I chuckle.

"I bought it for your sister."

I make a face, "my sister?" I raise a brow, "which between Arya and Sansa do you think would prefer playing with such an ugly dolly?"

He calls my name out.

"What?"

He lowers the doll, "it's not that ugly."

"So even you agree," I snigger, "and yet you still bought it!"

We both begin to walk down the hall.

He warns me, "I'll tell on your mother."

"For what?" I hold back a laugh.

"For calling me papa," he lifts his nose.

I chuckle at the thought. Mother never liked it when I used mama and papa; improper for a lady, she says. I think it's also because when I use it, I pull on their heart strings and manage to make them do my bidding. Twas the gift of the first born.

"I can hear it now," I grin at the man as I squeeze his arm, "Eddard Stark," I motion vaguely, "stripped of his title as Lord Hand for his poor taste in dolls."

My grin widens at the sound if his low laugh. I give a louder laugh, happy to have gotten the reaction I did out of him. It's been a while since I've heard my father chuckle, or anyone from my family, for that matter.

"I wouldn't worry about it, love," father pulls me into his chest, "the king's taste in dolls are surely worse than mine."

I let out a giggle. My father joins in.

I look out the window as we saunter down the hall and turn back to my father when he mutters, "she's changed quite a lot since we've moved here."

He looks at the doll in his hand.

It takes a moment before I smile and give a playful look, "have you seen any of your daughters play with dollies lately, father?"

My words do not work this time. My smile fades at the sight of the line between my father's brows. I mutter softly, "haven't we all changed?"

He turns to me then stops.

I raise my brows. Ned Stark offers me a smile. He takes my hands and shakes his head, "not you, my daughter," he rubs my knuckles with his thumb, "never you."

My heart clenches at his words. I cannot bring myself to smile back because I knew it wasn't true.

"Forgive me for intruding on a private moment."

We both pull away and turn to our side. There we see a blonde doll wrapped in steel. Ser Jaime bows, "Lord Hand, Lady Stark--" he stops himself and lifts his head, "oh, apologies. It's in bad taste for me to call you that."

My father shifts in his spot.

I play it off, "nonsense. I am born of house Stark," I pull my lips into a tight smile, "and my husband is dead."

"Ah, yes," the knight sighs, "poor man. Just had a taste of being one then--" he shakes his head to make his point. He raises a finger, "he was your age, wasn't he?"

I clench my jaw and nod.

Ser Jaime rests a hand on his hilt, "what was his house again?"

Before I can respond, my father blurts, "have you come to rub salt in my daughter's wounds, Kingslayer?"

I turn to my feet with wide eyes. I slowly turn to the see the fuming look on my father's face and whisper, "papa."

Ser Jaime lifts his nose. An smirk masks his face, "not at all, my Lord."

I look back at the kingsguard, not enjoying how quickly tension solidified between us.

"The king demands your presence," growls the Lannister, jaw hardened, golden mane wafting with the breeze.

Father's face is stern but he nods and raises the doll, "I will go to him after I-"

"Get that bloody Ned here now," Jaime speaks. He watches Ned lower the doll. He purses his lips while father's expression sours even more. He shrugs, "King's words, not mine."

In an instant, all the tension in father's body is gone. He looks like he's about to smile and it makes my stomach churn because I knew what that meant. I take the doll from him before anything else. He looks at me and I nod, "I'll give it to Sansa."

He stares me blankly.

"I'll try to force her affection onto the thing," I look at the doll, "maybe she'll let it chaperone us to the tourney later."

I smile at the sound of papa's low laugh.

He nods.

Ned's smile fades when he turns back to Jaime. Jaime gives a wry smile, "I'll escort the lady back to her chambers in her father's stead."

Neither of us decide to argue over it.

Father walks off, eyeing Jaime as he did, and I purse my lips when I turn to him, "I'm actually headed to the library."

"Mmm," he furrows his brows, "then I'm actually headed there too."

We begin to walk down the hall. I laugh as I look at the doll in my hands.

Jaime turns to me upon hearing this. He decides not to note on the ugly doll, "like reading, do you?"

I look at him and smile, "I do."

"You sure you don't go to that musty room to hide from everyone?"

I raise a brow, "you seem to have experience."

"Tyrion was like that," he looks forward, "except father never bought him a doll as a companion."

I look away just as Jaime looks back at me, "does the library match the fantasies of a book lover?"

I chuckle. I turn to his side again. I am unable to stop myself from thinking how dashing his grin at the moment was, "It definitely is as grand as I expected it to be. Winterfell is not blessed with nearly as many tomes."

"The younger Stark girls must not like reading as much as their big sister, considering the ugly thing in your paw," he nods at my direction.

"I'm sure one of them will find use of it," I lift the thing up and look at it. I glance upon Jaime, "oh, goodness. It actually looks quite like you."

Jaime pulls his chin back, "you clearly have issues with your eyes."

"No, it's uncanny. Yellow hair, evil intent."

"Evil intent?" Jaime stops in his tracks, "you mock and slander me," he raises brow and grips his hilt, "I should have your tongue for it."

"Mmm," I turn to him and slowly walk backward, "kingsguard takes the tongue of the Lord Hand's daughter? Sounds like a page out of my books."

He tilts his head, looking me up and down before chuckling as he turns to his feet. He lick his teeth then furrows his brows, "lend me that book once you're done."

We reach the stairwell the connected to the gardens.

I tilt my head and stop in my tracks when I see Sansa and her handmaiden.

"Sansa!" I call, waving at her. She looks at me and waves back.

I turn to Jaime and curtsy, "I have changed my mind, ser," I rise and smile, "I'll be joining my sister in the gardens instead."

Jaime nods and gives a lopsided smile, "very well, my lady. Bid my greetings to the pup. I pray she doesn't get a heart attack from your father's gift."

I chuckle, "she used to have a wolf, you know."

With that, Jaime and I part ways.

Sansa immediately grabs my arm once I am close enough, "what were you doing with Jaime?"

"Ser Jaime Lannister," I correct her, raising a brow, "I didn't know you two were familiar."

"Was he courting you?" Sansa asks as she releases my arm.

I immediately shush her, "do not speak of such things, girl. You know how quickly gossip spreads here." I hand her the doll, "he was escorting me to the library in father's stead."

"This isn't the library-"

"Clearly not."

She takes the doll, "what is this?"

"A gift from father," I grin, "a chaperone to the tourney later."

Sansa glares at me, nearly turning red as her hair. She chucks the doll to the ground and storms away.

I huff and pick up the doll, "Sansa." I follow after her, "it was a joke."

"I haven't played with dollies for years!"

"I know," I rush up to her and grab her arm, "papa bought it for you to try and ease your worries."

She grits her teeth and corrects, "father should just do his job and stop treating me like a little girl." She breaks away from me and moves past me.

"You are a little girl."

"I'm going to be queen one day," she turns to me, "and you won't be able to make fun of me then."

"Sansa, I'm not making fun of you!"

Sansa does not listen and simply walks away.

Her old handmaiden turns to me and smiles. She takes the doll from me, "I'll put this in her room."

I nod and smile.

By the time we were seated for the tourney, Sansa and I made peace by giving the doll to Arya for her to mutilate. All three of us enjoyed the bonding experience very much.

Right now, we were huddled together, pointing at the players. Sansa whispered to me who she thought handsomest and Arya exclaimed over who she thought was strongest. I alternate my attention between them, swooning with one, cheering with the other, but it doesn't take long for them to get into a clash, as always.

They begin to bicker over me and I would have just snapped at them had we not been in public. I instead silence both of them by swooning and cheering for the Hound once we spot him from afar.

Both young Starks gawk at me in disbelief and disgust.

"You can't be serious," Sansa mutters with a pale face.

Arya tilts her head, "I mean, he is pretty big."

I laugh at both of them, "can't I cheer for all the players?"

"No," they say at once.

I tear my gaze from the tourney grounds to look over my shoulder. I gaze upon the crowds, looking to see if father was already here. I mutter to no one in particular, "I wonder what's taking him so long."

"Look," Sansa, on my left, tugs at my arm, "ser Jaime is going to be riding!"

I ignore her and push Arya, who was seated to my right, behind as I crane my neck to look for farther.

Sansa leans on my back and mutters to Arya, "ser Jaime likes her."

Arya grins and looks down at me, "oooh. The lion and the wolf."

I quickly sit up and eye both of them, "shut it, you."

They giggle with each other.

"Father will not be pleased if he hears you are wanting to feed nasty rumors."

"Oh, but nasty rumors are the most intruding, wouldn't you agree, Lady Strong?"

The three of us turn to the man walking over. He stops just below where Arya was sat.

"Or should I say, Lady Stark?" he smiles and nods at me. He looks to my left, "Lady Stark," then to my right, "Lady Stark."

I offer a smile and my first name, "you can simply call me that to avoid confusion, my lord."

"Petyr Baelish," he grins, blue eyes glistening with apparent mischief.

"Lord Baelish," I nod. I squeeze both my sister's hands, prompting both to greet all the same.

Lord Baelish smiles, "I'm glad to finally meet the eldest Stark," he reaches a hand out to me, "the words spoken about your beauty do you no justice."

Both my sisters make a face when I take the man's hand and he leans in to kiss it.

He straightens up and brings his hands behind his back, "my deepest sympathies to you. Lord Harwin Strong left us too soon. I've heard a great many things about Breakbones, how he puts the strong in House Strong."

Arya side eyes Baelish before turning away to look at tourney grounds.

Sansa stares hotly at him as she clutches my arm.

"Thank you, Lord Baelish," I nod and pull a smile, "if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer not to talk about him more than this."

"Of course," he bows. He tilts his head back as he smiles. He walks off and climbs the stairs to get to his seat just behind us.

"Do you know who's going to fight first?" Arya asks as she leans on my lap. I wrap my arm over her shoulders and turn to where she was looking. I spot Jaime speaking to whom was probably his squire from afar.

"Don't worry, little one, they'll announce it," Baelish speaks from behind, making all of us turn to him then back front. When I look back, I see Jaime looking our way.

"I hope ser Jaime starts on our side," Sansa mutters as she leans into me, though her eyes are still fixed on the Lannister.

Arya turns to me and toys with my black hair, "I hope he defeats the Hound to win your affection."

Baelish makes a face upon hearing that.

I snort at the thought then shoot her a half serious face, "shut it."

"I see you girls are fond of the Kingslayer," Baelish says, making us turn back to him again.

Arya side eyes him once more. Sansa looks away, uninterested.

I respond before turning frotn, "he is a rather good swordsman. Or so I hear."

"He usually doesn't play in tourneys. He says he's too good for them," Baelish mutters, "something must have made him change his mind."

"Maybe he's trying to impress someone," Sansa replies, not bothering to look back anymore, "maybe a lady?"

I squeeze her arm when she says this. She does not even spare me a glance.

"Yes," Baelish darting his eyes below him, "perhaps."

We look to the sky when a rumble suddenly cracks.

"What's taking them so long?! It's going to rain, and then the games will be cancelled!" Arya complains.

"They-"

"They're waiting for the king," Baelish replies.

Arya makes a face. I'm the only one that turns back to the man. I smile at his already smiling face then turn to Arya, "papa's not here either. The king is probably making him do something."

Baelish chuckles under his breath, muttering lowly to himself, "papa? How sweet."

Then suddenly, truly out of nowhere, it began to rain.

My sisters and I quickly stand. I immediately grab them and we run off to the nearest place that could offer cover. We head to a tent, but the trouble was, everyone was heading there too.

The rain quickly begins to pour harder.

I do my best to cover Sansa and Arya's head, but my hands could only do so much. The three of us look up when something comes above us.

I feel someone behind me. I turn and see it's Lord Baelish. He's taken his tunic off and used it to cover us.

"Come, my Lady Starks," he speaks over the loud patter of the rain, "I will escort you back inside!"

We turn to him, his dress shirt now dripping and stuck to his form. I nod at him, "thank you, my lord."

"Don't thank me yet," he smirks, face wet with rain, "one of you may yet slip on mud."

Lord Baelish leads the way, uncaring of how wet he's gotten, and offers his arm out to us intermittently. Meanwhile, we hold up his tunic overhead and huddle under it, treading as quickly yet carefully as we can on the mucky ground.

"I do hope the rain does not ruin your fine garb, Lord Baelish," I call as Sansa and I lift our skirts up and do our best not to trip on it.

Arya was very much glad to be wearing pants, and cheerfully steps into puddles without a care in the world.

But then she slips.

Baelish manages to grab her arm before she falls. He pulls her upright and chuckles, "careful now. You wouldn't want to take your sisters down with you."

Arya let's out a hmp when she is released.

"And don't worry about my tunic," he smiles at me, "I'd rather it be ruined than have 3 ladies get sick under my watch."

Sansa gasps and grabs my arm when her heels sink in the wet dirt. I help her keep her footing and smile back at the man, "thank you, Lord Baelish."

"As I said, don't thank me yet. It's still quite a walk to the Keep," he comes to Sansa's side and helps her straighten up, "and call me Petyr."

I part my lips at the thought.

He shakes his head and chuckles, "I insist."

#game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #jaime lannister #jaime Lannister fanfic #petyr baelish #petyr baelish fanfic #petyr littlefinger baelish #petyr Baelish x reader #jaime Lannister x reader #jaime Lannister fluff #petyr baelish fluff #jaime fluff #baelish fluff #game of thrones fluff #jaime x reader #petyr x reader #petyr baelish fic #jaime lannister fic #petyr baelish fanfiction #jaime Lannister fanfiction #got fanfic #got fanfiction

[shuttershocky]

That previous TM post reminded me of something.

What really tells me the Koei Tecmo writers did their homework with Type-Moon is how Fate/Samurai Remnant slightly changes the TM theme of decay to portray that Iori has something wrong with him.

A common trope that Nasu likes to weave into his stories is how the people living today are living in the past's skeletons. Unlike a lot of media that tends to portray the past as some grandiose and magical time that met an untimely end from disaster, the past wasn't always great, it was just... Large.

A theme of slow decay permeates a lot of Nasu's works. Once, the Nanaya, the Ryougi, the Asakami, and the Fujou were fearsome, powerful clans of oni hunters, but over time they all fell to ruin slowly, with only the Nanaya really having a singular incident that can be pointed to for their fall. The Tohno were (and still are) an incredibly wealthy and influential family of oni in the guise of businessmen, but one cruel act out of line after another, and there's just an enormous, empty mansion containing a single Tohno, the family dead or scattered. Mahoyo's longest chapter takes place in a lavish, abandoned amusement park, filled with everything from a multistory house of mirrors to a giant rollercoaster where everything still works, but couldn't survive more than a few years, a foolish waste of a fortune. Kara No Kyoukai is about a rich girl that grows increasingly distant from her wealthy noble family until she leaves them to live in a completely empty apartment instead, the flashbacks to the Ryougi family showing no warmth or nostalgia despite the luxury.

Even Fate, the series all about digging up ghosts of the past and showing you how kickass these guys are, always goes into how heroic spirits are often filled with regret, having led bloody and tragic lives that caused them so much pain and yet meant that they would be remembered forever—literally removing them from the cycle of death and reincarnation to be put into another one where they are reborn and killed on a mage's whims.

The past was grand, wealthy, larger than life, and it rotted from the inside out and failed the people living today, who have to build new, simpler lives from the pieces, but might be happier that way.

FSR does something similar, though with an important difference. Just like in other TM works the past in FSR is larger than life, being the Sengoku period and the Shimabara rebellion, with both the incredibly cool sword saints and horrific massacres, but the people living today (1651) could not be happier about living in a peaceful, much more insignificant time and have no interest in what they left behind whatsoever. They're not living in the decaying remains of the past, they've rebuilt on top of it completely. You would have to be insane to look back even out of curiosity, because that would be staring into unimaginable bloodshed.

Nowhere is this better illustrated than Nasu himself talking about how the name "Miyamoto Musashi" is seen today, compared to in 1651 after Musashi had just died.

A sword-saint now, a legend, and at 60 duels with 60 wins probably the most skilled duelist to have ever lived, but for his contemporaries, he was a terrifying man that killed dozens to prove his martial skill. Nobody in Miyamoto Iori's time remembers him for being Musashi's son the way we do.

But Iori, Iori looks back. The first hint was that servants always have some connection to the master, and there's seemingly nothing in common with the king and god-slayer Saber and the humble Iori. The next was Saber's reaction seeing Iori's seemingly fearless behavior towards an enemy that could kill him in one blow (something you don't even need New Game+ to see btw, I haven't played NG+ myself lol), it was recognition.

There's a reason why Iori's main rival is Chiemon, a character whose only defining trait is being unable to let go of the bloodshed he experienced in the Shimabara Rebellion.

In FSR more than in any other Type-Moon title, the past is buried deep to the point where it can barely be seen, and yet inside Iori is the desire to dig it up. Study it. Surpass it. Find his father resurrected in his prime and kill him (her) again, to prove he would have been an even more terrifying monster than she ever was, had he been born just a little earlier.

There's something wrong with him.

#Fate Samurai Remnant #FSR spoilers

[sparkbeast20]

Theories for WHB

These are purely speculative and base on what we got from the official site, character sheets, etc.

Lucifer and "Some of the devils from Paradise Lost" are Fallen angels

Bathin and Buer despite being or former of Paradise Lost are not Fallen angels.

Morax and Marbas both lose an eye, which judging from we saw from the angels. They all have one eye different or hidden, because that eye is a sign that they are affiliated to Heaven, best example is Michael's eye.

The only that holds theory back is that Marbas has his missing eye on his left, not right.

Also... That means that Lucifer's design might have him with an eyepatch or his bangs is covering it.

Belphegor's Strain/Distant Relationship with the other kings

This is purely speculative because of his placement in the Gacha screen.

Like I and many others assume the dummy at the back is Lucifer, but with closer look, Lucifer's sigil is on the dummy next to Satan and Leviathan.

This is gut feeling and with the knowledge that Belphegor rebel against heaven he didn't want to work. That Maybe they use that part of his lore but with the kings. Like he did something that made the other kings distrust him in the past.

The connect of Solomon "Death/Disappearance" to Beelzebub's leaving Avisos/Abyssos.

The only thing that hold this theory together is the date/year it all happened. B.C. 931

The Possible of Andrealphus' family and friends isn't really dead

Thanks to @d34dlysinner for bringing to my attention.

So in the missing Solomon teaser, the devil crossed out might be Andrealphus' friends and family.

And with knowing that Raphael is the angel in this post, it make sense!

But what I'm thinking is that... Raphael might not killed them, and Andrealphus assume that they might be dead, but what if they were turned into angels.

This would be more painful for Andrealphus if he's being killing angels and he might've killed his own friends and family.

The Final Temptation is the reason the other three will reveal themselves to MC

So, from what we've seen, the main goal of "Season 1" is breaking the contact with the 72 nobles/devils. But what I was wondering is that they never once mention about the Final temptation concept in any of the vids about the story and game play/system.

And this made me think... what if the Final Temptation mention in the app stores version was a hint of plot of a future story in the game.

And I'll even go out and say that this might be their way to introduce the other three sins/kings.

Like, I was curious is to why the other kings haven't been revealed yet when we see some of their nobles.

Then I had a thought, maybe they didn't want to get involve with MC just yet, but as soon as the idea of the Final Temptation was mention they thought that maybe its time to meet MC.

So here's how I think it'll go.

MC finish all 72 devils contracts and even it pains the kings and nobles, MC has to go back to the human.

But even with their power is fully unlocked, it's still not enough to win or end the war.

So some of them tried to look for a different way to end the war and that's how they stumble upon the Final temptation. Or one of the other kings (Lucifer, Asmodeus or Belphegor) brought this to the other four kings.

And there we have a plot for Season 2 :D

The breaking of the contract required both party (MC and said Nobles) feel mutual or has strong feelings

Now, this is just me and my thoughts on this moment with Zagan.

Here's a thing, I have no problem with Sitri calling us as Solomon, because he at least knows that we are our own person.

While with Zagan... He compare us with Solomon.

Now, here's my theory with this... What if when MC and Zagan try to break his contract is because Zagan doesn't have real feels or doesn't see MC as someone to respect.

So when he and MC tried to figure out what's the reasoning, they get to know each other better and there, Zagan is MC as their own person.

Thus, when they tried it again and this time it works.

This also give a reason why MC can't just go around and breaking the contracts, it gives the other nobles a chance to develop and make the story interesting.

So far, this is all my theories for now, and there are some I missed because I forgot about it or I missed it completely.

You guys can share your thoughts on these :D

#what in “hell” is bad? #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad? #what in hell is bad #whb theories #whb thoughts #whb sins #whb kings #whb angles #whb solomon #whb andrealphus #whb zagan #whb belphegor #whb lucifer #whb marbas

[thosehallowedhalls]

three princes walk into a bar

Books: Crimes of Passion, The Royal Romance, Rules of Engagement

Pairing: M!Trystan Thorne, Liam Rys, Leo Rys

Rating: Teen

Word count: 1200+

Summary: Liam has been roped into fixing Trystan's public image. Leo? Leo is just along for the ride.

A/N: This is the seventh chapter of the Round Robin 2024 saga, hosted by @choicesprompts.

Over the rim of his martini glass, Trystan examined the two men watching him. 

"You two trying to get into comedy or something? Three princes walk into a bar?"

"I'm a king," Liam corrected.

"I've had to deal with a lot of bullshit this week, Drakovia," Leo shot back, hunched over his own glass. "Don't test me."

"I'm just trying to understand why the two of you sought me out here, Cordonia One and Two. Aren't you," he pointed at Leo, "one of us degenerates in need of a PR miracle? And you," turning to Liam, "a little busy ruling a country?"

Leo downed his whiskey like a shot of tequila. Appalled, Trystan shook his head. "It ought to be a crime to treat a fine blend like that."

"Believe me, if you'd had the week I had," he glared at Liam, "you'd want to gulp down a good whiskey too." 

"Which brings us to why I'm here," Liam added. "I've been assigned as your partner."

"You're fucking with me. How the hell does a king get roped into playing PR consultant in a reality show?"

"Hypothetically, a king gets a desperate call from an old friend after your original partner quit."

"I see Bertrand is not above a guilt trip. Good for him. But what makes you think I want your help?"

Liam leaned closer. "Let's be honest here, Trystan. Your public image is a mess. At this point, short of solving a murder, I'm your only option."

"I'll take the murder. Got any dead bodies handy?"

"Afraid not. And no offense, but I really don't see you as a detective. You're too scatterbrained for that."

"Ouch." Trystan sipped from his martini. "Enlighten me, then, Coach. How do you plan to make an honest man out of me?"

Liam took Trystan's wrist and pushed it down. "First of all, you put that drink down. According to a cursory Google search, there are barely any pictures of you from the past three years, minimum, where you're not holding a drink."

"You're calling me an alcoholic?"

"Considering I haven't seen you in almost eight years, I have no idea. But you certainly look like one, and that’s what matters."

"Ohh, appearance makes reality. Is that a royal saying? I always thought it was a Queen Viktoria saying." 

"It's a rational person saying. The next step is making you look like you have other thoughts besides who you're going to screw next." He made a face. "Maybe Leo could take some pointers there."

"Hey, you're not my partner, I'm just along for the ride. Besides, may I remind you, I'm happily married."

"I'm aware, and I also know you're faithful to Katie. But if you keep acting like you did before you were married, the public will think it's not a big leap from getting wasted and puking on bushes to cheating on your wife."

Trystan exchanged a commiserating look with Leo. "Was he always like this?"

"Unfortunately."

"Pity."

"Back to you," Liam continued unaffected. “You were exiled almost eight years ago, and it doesn't look like you'll be welcomed back into the fold any time soon. We both know you didn't have anything to do with Countess Juliana's death..."

Trystan drank again. "Do we?" He asked softly. 

"Right. I know you didn't have anything to do with Countess Juliana's death." He jerked a thumb in Leo's direction. "So does he."

"You're a lot of things, Drakovia," Leo agreed. "But a murderer isn't one of them."

"Too bad everyone else disagrees."

"Indeed. But you're still a prince, your actions still reflect on your country, and it's only a matter of time before King Maksim and Queen Viktoria tighten the leash."

Trystan sighed and ran a hand over his jaw. His stubble contributed to the general air of dissipation that enveloped him like a mist.

"If you want to keep your comfortable life," Liam continued. "You'll make sure to go from 'drunken waste of space'..."

"Christ, Rys. Why don't you tell me how you really feel."

"... to 'proper gentleman.'" 

"Proper gentleman? Seriously?"

"He can't help it," Leo put in. "Put a man on a throne long enough, he'll start to sound like an etiquette manual. Then again," he turned to his brother. "I'm not sure you weren't born this way."

"Carry on like this, brother dearest, and I'll make sure your partner swaps places with Olivia. She finished with Carrera early anyway, I'm sure she could fit you in."

Leo grimaced. "As I was saying, Liam makes excellent points."

"Coward." Trystan gestured to the waitress. "Bring me another one, will you, darling?"

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did anything I said in the past twenty minutes get through?"

"Maybe? I vaguely recall something about proper." He laughed when Liam dropped his head into his hands. "Relax, Your Majesty. I'll be on my best behavior all week."

"By whose standards?"

"There goes my loophole." Trystan sighed. "Look, I couldn't care less about my public image, but I'm not in any rush to face my mother's wrath. Besides, you're quite frankly pitiful right now. Saying no would make me feel like I was kicking a puppy. A sweet, annoying puppy."

Leo slapped a hand on the table. “Thank you! That's what he reminds me of! A thirty plus year old mystery, solved in a single night. Maybe you really should be a detective.”

Liam looked heavenward when Trystan and Leo laughed and clinked glasses. Praying for patience, no doubt. "Not quite what I was going for, but I'll take it."

"So what's the plan, oh wise one? We've already covered my drinking.”

“We’re going over the basics.”

“How to Be a Productive Member of Society 101?”

“Exactly. And as your partner…”

Trystan sighed. “Can we come up with a different word? I don't really do partners.”

“As your mentor…”

“Partner it is.”

“... It's my responsibility to make you look squeaky clean for the cameras.”

Leo groaned. “Liam, no. I'll grant you that he needs to improve his reputation, but squeaky clean won't do. People will start theorizing that he died and was replaced with a clone. Or a very elaborate AI video.”

“You might be right. What do you propose instead?”

“He leans into the role of loveable rogue. He works hard, he plays hard. He's aware of his privilege and doesn't take it for granted.”

Liam turned to face his brother. “That's rather good. Why the hell haven’t you been doing that?”

A shadow passed over Leo’s face, but he grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know? But you’re not my partner, thank God. So let’s focus on our exiled prince here.”

Trystan blew out a breath. “Look, I’d like to get out of this island sooner rather than later. Can we get this over with?”

“Surprisingly, Leo makes a good point. Too big a change wouldn’t feel authentic. You still need to come across as you, just…”

“An upgraded version?”

“Exactly. So.” He pulled out a leather-bound notebook and a fountain pen. “We begin.”

Three hours later, Trystan had a headache, Liam was inching ever closer to a migraine, and Leo… Well, Leo had his face buried in another drink. But the sense of satisfaction permeated the air.

“There’s hope for you yet, Thorne,” Liam said delightedly. “Two more days or so and you’ll be ready for the cameras.”

“Oh joy.”

“But.” He planted his hands on the table and leaned forward. “If you screw this up, I’ll personally make sure that your next partner isn’t as nice as me.”

Trystan laughed. “Fear not, young Jedi. No offense, but I’m done with partners. Never again.”

#round robin 2024 #trystan thorne #liam rys #leo rys #crimes of passion #the royal romance #rules of engagement #playchoices #30 drabbles in 30 days

[factual-fantasy]

Heya Factual! Congrats on the 23,000! Yet another well deserved milestone earned by your hard work and dedication! Really sorry about the cold- we always seem to get sick at the worst of times! Definitely don't do anything crazy till you're 100%, but thanks for making that really cute celebration piece- you can really tell how much the factual Fam cares about you from their worried expressions...and then there's Gerald, who refuses to let his happy demeanor waver for a second! Though then again, he is still quite young- he might not even understand the concept of getting sick yet!

And on that note, at least till you're better, I definitely won't send any unnecessarily exhausting Asks like last time ( thanks for answering that so thoroughly though- that was really cool! ) and just keep it simple- and my ask today is regarding the simplest Mario enemy, the goomba!

You've mentioned them in the past as beings created by Kamek- How does he do it? How long has he been doing it? Are the goombas sentient, or just savage constructs? How many are there, in ratio to the Koopas? Did the bros have to fight through a bunch of them on their way to the castle? And do any of their variants exist, such as the micro goombas, para goombas, or giant goombas? We require the Goomba Lore!

Thank you! :DD I'm doing my best to take it easy.. I've spent most of my days recently either sleeping, sitting, or playing Pokemon Scarlet XDD that's relaxing right? Yes, I believe so-

As for Gerald, he isn't ignorant to my condition- he's actually meant to be surprisingly emotionally aware. :0 He's smiling though all this because he wants the others to be happy. And if he's calm and smiling, maybe we'll smile too.. 🥺

I was intending to draw a comic that goes into Gerald's character a bit more... But I just haven't been well enough recently to take on a project like that.. :((

And don't worry about "exhausting asks", I encourage them! :D I could really use some lengthy asks as a form of distraction to be honest.. 🥹💔

Speaking of asks, about your Goomba questions..

Well, starting with Kamek actually- I have intentions to make him a few hundred years old. Being the most powerful magikoopa there ever was supposedly.. and he's been associated with the royal Koopa family for generations.. though this idea is in canon limbo, because I'm having trouble figuring how exactly he's managed to live so long. Considering how magic works in my au.. his lengthy life span shouldn't be possible..

None the less, even though I haven't gotten that idea to fit yet- I love it so much that most of the au kinda branches off from it- <XDDD so with that established, Kamek brings Goombas to "life" using magic of course!

I was thinking that the ability animate dead/inanimate things is a very complex magic that took Kamek years to learn. And he was only finally able to master it in the last 100 years or so.

Now for the Goombas, they are not sentient for sure. They are just these little.. zombie like.. machines. They start as poisonous mushrooms and when they are "brought to life", they gain this desire and need move and attack anything that doesn't appear to be a Koopa.

As for the Koopa to Goomba ratio.. I'd say they make up 1.5/10 of the kingdoms population. They are very disposable and "easy" to make.. but they are relatively fragile creatures and take a while to grow.. plus the Goombas don't live very long. Since they uproot themselves upon being "Goomba-fied", they eventually wilt and die.. :/ so that number doesn't ever go over 1.5.

I'm sure Mario and Luigi had to squash some on the way to save Peach the first time. But it was only after her rescue that one landed a bite on Luigi..

As for their variants, the micro and Giant Goombas surly exist! Though king Goomba might not because the original brown mushrooms probably don't grow that big-

As for para-goombas.. hmm.. I know there won't be any Goombas with wings going around. But perhaps there could be a Goomba that can release airborne spores.. or at the very least can attack from afar.. that could get them the title of para-goomba! :0

I think I covered everything, I hope at least-

Thank you for the ask and interest in my au! :DDD it was a nice read and took my mind off of all my ailments for a short time 🥹💖

#my response #super mario bros #i really gotta work on kameks plot holes #i want him to be super oldddd #being loyal to the koopa family for generations.. #hes personally met them #all the family stories and secrets and grief this man knows... #OH OH ALSO #it would be so cool if he was 100s of years old and when you look closer at him you realize not much of his original body remains- #he would be so creepy and haunting #you'd wonder how much of this man is “kamek” and how much is a brainwashed drone meant to serve the king.. #ooooo hes so fun i love kamek #i wanna draw him so baaadddd 😭😭💔

[useless19]

Do you think Bowser has hinted at marriage once in awhile randomly or do you think he's chilled out about rushing things finally. Sure he was pretty dead set on marrying the Princess not only from his own interests and political benefits but prehaps abandonment issues caused him to see marriage as mostly a way to insure himself they wont leave him since it a final say writen on papers? (divorce exist but if you got unspoken issues the smaller details are usually ignored)

Honestly I've always been fascinated by peoples take on Bowsers possible attachment or abandonment issues

He absolutely has.

"Or I could just lock you in the dungeon when it's time for you to go back," Bowser said. He laughed when Luigi started to protest. "I know, I know. No kidnapping. It was a joke." -Bowser, in the middle of planning Luigi's kidnapping.

I imagine a lot of the earlier proposals got passed off with a similar 'I'm joking' sort of thing. But because Luigi's still got fairly low self-esteem, he takes Bowser's word when he brushes off Luigi's bemusement with a 'I'm not being serious' or the like whenever Luigi comments on a pretty place and Bowser hints that it might be a good place to have a wedding.

Ultimately, Days!Bowser had a (at his best) distant dad, a mum who died when he was barely old enough to remember her but not young enough to have not remembered her at all, and some relatives who couldn't be around very often for their own safety. And then he only reinforced that by kidnapping people. So yes, he sort of thinks that marriage will make someone stick around (and it did during the main plot!).

(I considered going for a Bowser who lost both his parents at a terribly young age (playing into the fact that some of the Yoshi games refer to him as King Bowser, even though he's a pretty young kid), but a Bowser who has literally never been accountable to anyone is going to be different to the Bowser I was putting together for Day 7/9.)

Anyway, this means it comes as a shock the first time Bowser goes all out on a proposal. Luigi is not a fan of surprises or being the center of attention, and Bowser's not going to half-arse something as important as a proposal. It'll be loud, there'll be a crowd, and Luigi's going to have the frightful time of figuring out how to say 'no' without Bowser assuming that's the end of the relationship. (He doesn't do great).

Luigi escapes the resulting fiery chaos and retreats to his room. He feels awful and has some miserable thoughts on whether or not this relationship is viable if they keep having stuff like this happen. (It's not been that much that often, Luigi's just spiralling here). He gets ready for bed automatically, but doesn't get any sleep.

And trying to figure this out turned into just writing fic... It's first draft, but here you go.

Luigi yelped when his bedroom door slammed open. Bowser stomped in, only to stop short when he noticed Luigi.

"Knock, please," Luigi said.

"You haven't escaped yet?" Bowser said.

Luigi clutched the heavy book he'd been trying to use to send him off to sleep. "Do I have to escape?" he asked carefully.

"Not yet," Bowser said. He began to pace around Luigi's room.

Luigi put the book aside and laced his fingers together. It was hard to even know where to start. How were you supposed to tell your partner that you weren't ready for marriage when they so obviously were?

"I'm sorry I messed things up," Luigi said.

"You should be," Bowser snapped.

Luigi flinched. Bowser stopped pacing and took a deep breath.

"I'm furious," Bowser said on the out breath.

"I'm sorry, I -"

"You said you wouldn't leave without telling me why," Bowser said, looming over Luigi.

"Do you want me to leave?" Luigi asked.

"What? No!"

Luigi patted the bed next to him. Bowser huffed. Instead of sitting next to Luigi on the mattress as Luigi had intended, Bowser slumped to the floor and leant his head on his folded arms on the bed.

"I don't want to leave," Luigi said.

"Then why didn't you say yes?" Bowser asked, a note of hurt in his voice.

"Because I don't want to get married yet," Luigi said. "It's a lot to say yes to. It's a huge decision."

"Figures I managed to bag the one mushroom person afraid of commitment," Bowser grumbled. "What do you think a relationship is except a precursor to marriage?"

Luigi hadn't considered it like that. "I don't know. There's still a lot we haven't talked about with... us and everything it entails."

"The proposal can be a surprise but the engagement shouldn't be," Bowser said.

Luigi blinked in surprise. "Exactly. Where did you hear that?"

"Can't remember." Bowser shrugged, knocking Luigi off balance.

Luigi lifted his hand to put it on Bowser's arm then hesitated. Would his touch even be welcome right now? When he dropped his arm, he caught sight of Bowser's red eye watching him.

"Hate me so much you can't stand the thought of touching me?"

"No." Luigi braced himself. "Do you hate me?"

Bowser closed his eyes. "I asked you to marry me a few hours ago, what do you think?"

"I think a lot of people would hate someone for saying no."

Bowser huffed and reached out to pat Luigi's leg. If he wanted to hurt Luigi, it would have been so easy, but he didn't. Luigi reached forward and threaded his fingers through Bowser's coarse hair. Something he hadn't realised was tense relaxed as Bowser gave a rumble of contentment.

"Was it just a no?" Bowser asked. "Or was it a not now? Because it felt like the former, but you waffled a lot before you got there."

"That's it exactly," Luigi said, relieved beyond measure at finally getting the right words. "I don't want to get married now, but I might change my mind in the future."

The lateness of the hour hit Luigi and he was unable to stifle his yawn. It must have been gone midnight by now. Tomorrow was looking better than it had been, but too little sleep wouldn't help anyone.

"We should probably try to get some sleep," Luigi said, untangling his fingers from Bowser's hair with a pang of disappointment. "Would you stay with me, tonight?" he blurted out before he could wimp out of asking for what he wanted again.

"In here?" Bowser waved at Luigi's quite-big-for-Luigi-but-small-for-Bowser bed.

"If that's okay?"

Bowser crawled onto the bed. There really wasn't much room for Luigi, but he'd spent enough time in too-narrow or too-short beds on adventures that he could probably doze off. Bowser curled his hand around Luigi's body. Luigi put his hand over Bowser's finger.

Heavy, absurdly long breaths were becoming a welcome sound to drift off to. Luigi snuggle down, enjoying the extra warmth a fire-breathing Koopa added.

"How long will it take before you're ready?" Bowser asked in a tone that he'd probably meant to be casual but missed by miles.

How long did it usually take before people were comfortable taking the next step in a relationship like this? Luigi had known people with whirlwind engagements who would have had a kid already on the way at this point, and others who had been together more than five years before they even hinted at marriage.

And it didn't matter how other people did it, Luigi had to figure out what worked for Luigi.

"I don't know," Luigi said. He clutched Bowser's fingers. "If I try to pick a date, then I don't know if I'll be ready by then and the extra anxiety over whether or not I'll be ready by then will probably just make it take longer. And I don't think you'll do very well with a specific date to get your hopes up for."

Bowser grumbled unhappily, but didn't disagree. Luigi rubbed Bowser's claw with his thumb and was relieved when Bowser gave him a gentle squeeze in return.

"I can promise that when I'm ready, you'll be the second person to know," Luigi said.

"After Mario?" Bowser said, disgruntled.

"After me," said Luigi.

Bowser laughed sleepily.

#bowuigi #days #fanfic #ask #this got long #would've loved to work in Luigi making a comparison between his certainty that no one likes him with Bowser's certainty that everyone leave #but i couldn't figure out where to fit it in #(first draft problems) #(who knows that it would even make sense here)

[lookismaddict]

Lookism Chapter 438 Memes/Thoughts I Have:

(SPOILERS !!! I don’t own any of the Lookism panels and the translations. Only the memes that I made.)

God. It’s like every week, I get even more tired than the previous week. What has my life come to? I feel so dead inside.

Anyways, wooooo new chapter is here. Let’s goooooooo!!!

“DiD yOu JuSt HiT a CoP ?” Yeah mf. Call it “injustice” or a “crime”, IDC. Daniel gon beat yo ass GTA style. 😤

It’s ok Daniel, go get him!!!

*h e a v y s i g h*

. . .

PLEASE. EXCUSE ME FOR A SECOND WHILE I… “TAKE CARE OF SOME BUSINESS”.

*stays in the bathroom for about 30 min*

I'M KIDDING... not really.

BRUH EVEN DANIEL IS NAKED? AROUND GUN??? This is dangerous. 😭😭😭

OHHHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYY GAAAAAAAHHHHHDDDD.... SIRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!! THE WET HAIR THOOOOOO. 😩😩🤤🤤🤤🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

I def know what I want for Christmas this year... 👀

Santa would definitely kill me in my sleep...

N S F W M E M E W A R N I N G !!!

(If you don't wanna see the inappropriate meme, just scroll past it.)

God, my 😺 been quivering... What? I bet those of you who read Rendezvous would agree that you want him too. I'M LOOKING AT YOU!! READERS WHO'VE READ THOSE CHAPTERS ACTING LIKE YOU HAVEN'T THOUGHT ABOUT IT, SMH. 👁👁 Don't lie.

Man, this is giving me mad inspiration to write again. Who knew that some steamy shower panels would bring me back to continue writing for that story? How ironic. 😅

YESSSSSS GUN BBG, MAN WHORE, DADDYYYYYYY. 🥰

DAAAAAAAAMMMNNNNN DANIEL, BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE FANCY FIGHTING SPINS!!! Also, "I'm gonna get punished severely when I get back." 🧐 Is Gun gonna make you give him 🧠 or nah? Like what?

BRUHHHHHHHHHH. DANIEL NOOOOOOOOOO!!! 😭😭😭

AWWWW BABY, DON'T BEAT YOURSELF UP ABOUT IT. JUST CONTINUE TO GIVE IT YOUR ALL!!! 🥺🥺

Awwwww shit... Is this where I think this is going...? 😭

Hey Alexa, play "Lose Yourself" by Eminem.

OMG WAIT. HE DOESN'T LOOK THAT DIFFERENT FROM WHEN HE WENT CRAZY MODE IN HIS OTHER BODY!!! :O God, it's like the same demon possessed Daniel or something.

OK DANIELLLLL!!! I SEE YOUUUUUU, KING!!!! 😩😩👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

AYO, IS THAT JAKE'S OLDER BROTHER??? 👀 HOW TF JAMES LEE KNEW ABOUT HIM AND NOT EVEN HIS OWN BROTHER, JAKE KIM KNEW ABOUT HIM UNTIL TOM LEE MENTIONED HIM??? 💀💀💀💀

Geez, I'm starting to feel bad for Jichang. Like, ok Daniel, I get it. Your fight with Jichang started because you're trying to find out more about Jinyoung and all that, but... y'all can't just... talk it out? 😅 "Civilized folks" style? No? Ok.

Oh crap... that's not good. 😬

B R U H. THESE PANELS GAVE ME MAD GOOSEBUMPS. SHIIIIIT. I HOPE DANIEL'S HOMIES ARRIVE!!!! 😖

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I KNEW ITTTTTTT!!! I TOLD Y'ALL WTF. 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I EVEN KNEW IT IN THE LAST REVIEW HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I GOT PSYCHIC POWERS. 🔮

SEE???? I CONCLUDED THIS LAST WEEK WITH MY OWN WORDS, BRUH. CALL ME A... G E N I U S. ✨ (Actually don't. I'm still a dumbass.)

"Thanks. I almost died just now." 💀💀💀💀 Idk why I thought that line from Hudson was funny to me LMFAOOO. Just caught me off guard because I mostly see him being so serious all the time. Also, Jichang... don't underestimate Daniel lol. It'll be your downfall if you do.

I stg. Almost every chapter, Daniel always gets even more attractive. 😍😍

I always see people comment on how Daniel is turning more into Gun due to how he has improved in fighting as the story progresses. HOWEVER, I've never heard Daniel becoming James Lee before and I find that concept very interesting. I'm not sure if PTJ is leading Daniel towards that path of him becoming the new "James Lee", since he is a self-righteous character who seeks truth.

Even though I find this moment to be very cool, I worry that Daniel might create more enemies for himself and I hope he doesn't kill anyone then spiral into long-term guilt like James Lee.

God, I still can't get over the GUN SHOWER PANELS. AHHHHHHHHH!!! HIM... NAKED??? I MEAN, COME ON MAN. HE LITERALLY IS EXPENSIVE ALCOHOL WHO REALLY AGED SO GOOD. SO TASTY. SO DELICIOUS. SO SCRUMPT-DIDDLY-UMPTIOUUUSSSSS!!! CALL ME A CONNOISSEUR, BUT HE CAN BE THE YAMATO TO MY HENNESSY, WITH HIS HIGH PRICED SEXY ASS. 🤤🤤🖤🖤🖤🖤

If any one mentions him in the shower, yk Imma be "showering" down there. 💦

ALSO, WE NEED MORE SHOWER FAN SERVICE PTJ. KEEP 'EM COMING!!!

The correct answer is "Both".

They'd be amazing Calvin Klein models.

Anyways, BYE- 🏃🏽‍♀️

#THIS CHAPTER IS SO GOOD!!! 😫 #GOLLYYY MY SENSES ARE TINGLING #MY LIL MEOW MEOW 😩😩💦💦 #Gun plsssssssssss make me your baby 💀 #lookism #lookismaddict #lookism 438 #lookism spoilers #lookism spoiler #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism memes #lookism meme #daniel park #park hyungseok #kwak jichang #gun park #park jonggun #james lee #kang dagyeom #jay hong #hong jaeyeol #hudson ahn #hyunseong ahn

[thesimulationswarm]

Balsam Prelude and Chapter 1: Some Kind of Noble Calling

This is a story about trauma. What trauma does to a person, and what trauma does to a community. And how, in the midst of it, people find their way to joy, delight— even love.

Pairing: Joel Miller x original female character Summary: After the events of tlou, Joel and Ellie try to establish a “normal life” in Jackson, but neither of them are any good at normal. A town doctor tries to care for residents who have experienced unspeakable trauma, and struggles to overcome her own past at the same time. Joel finds himself drawn to her, as their lives become increasingly intertwined. Meanwhile, outside Jackson, troubling things are happening... Rating: explicit 18+ MDNI Word count: 6k Warnings: slow burn, I promise there will be smut but not yet, f/m relationship, not a reader insert, canon-typical violence, descriptions of medical situations, descriptions of trauma and PTSD, Ellie and Joel figuring out how to be family, Tommy and Joel figuring out how to be family, angst, fluff, based on show Jackson because I haven't played tlou part ii, this is the first fic I've been brave enough to put out in the world so be kind.

Series Masterlist

PRELUDE

The boy struggled to work the crowbar; his fingers were so cold he couldn’t really feel them and his grip kept slipping. Finally, though, the old wood splintered around the bolt latch and gave way. He pushed through the door of the shed and fell to the ground inside, spent.

The cold hurt. He was so tired. He’d gone past ordinary hunger, to that desperate place beyond. So now that he was out of the cutting wind, all he wanted was to go to sleep.

Coco had followed him in. She sniffed at the boy’s face, and he felt the warm breath on his skin for a brief, lovely moment. Then she padded away toward the back wall of the small room.

“Come back here, girl,” the boy called out. But she didn’t come back. Was she leaving him now, too? He just wanted to burry his face in her fur and smell her smell as he drifted off. If his father couldn’t be here with him, at least the dog he’d loved could.

He heard a brief, sharp bark. He lifted his head. Coco was sitting by a metal rack on the wall, pointing her nose at something on the second shelf. 

“What is it, Coco?” She barked again, still pointing. 

He moved slowly, regretfully, as he pulled his aching body up again. She was pointing at an old shoebox, and didn’t stir as he approached.

He brushed the cobwebs away and lifted the lid. It was full of small, dark brown packages. He lifted one close to his face, to examine it in the light coming through the open door. 

MEAL, READY TO EAT, INDIVIDUAL, it read. CHICKEN A LA KING.

CHAPTER 1: Some Kind of Noble Calling

“You need to take her to Dr. Conner,” Maria said brusquely, as soon as she’d walked in the room. Ellie was curled listlessly on the couch, face flushed and mottled and hair slicked down with sweat.

“Dr. Conner? Where is he?” Joel asked.

“She is on 2nd street, top of the hill.”

He nodded and looked away from Maria’s icy face. Just what he needed, for her to add sexism to his list of sins. He squatted down to lift Ellie in his arms, held back a groan as his knees popped, and headed toward the door. He was always surprised at how little she weighed, given her sheer force of nature.

“I can walk. I’m not dead yet,” she whined at him hoarsely, squirming against his hold. It was half-hearted, and he kept his grip.

“Not happening.”

Dr. Connor’s was a narrow, two-story building, and the windows were covered with dark curtains. The sign above the door was painted simply with a red cross on a white background.  He knocked but didn’t wait, yanking the doorknob and shouldering through the entryway.

Inside was bare, with a row of wooden chairs and a hand-written sign instructing visitors to take a seat. Two doors stood closed, and Joel was eyeing them to determine which he should open next when a breezy voice called from behind one.

“If you’re breathing and not bleeding out, hang on and I’ll be there in five.”

He sighed and set Ellie on a chair before dropping down beside her.

“Nicer than the FEDRA clinics at least,” Ellie deadpanned, her voice creaky and strained.

He looked around the little waiting room. It wasn’t exactly impressive, but if you’d only ever seen a QZ medical facility it must've seemed like the height of luxury.

“There used to be places like this. You got to see the doctor in a room by yourself instead of a big ward with half the neighborhood lined up.” He paused. “It was nice. Especially if you had somethin’ going on you didn’t want to share with everybody you knew.”

She quirked a sweaty eyebrow at him. “Like what?”

“Pass.”

They looked up in unison as a door creaked open and a woman strode in, dressed in jeans and a canvas apron. She was small, tawny-skinned and dark-haired. Younger than he’d expected, although not young-young on second inspection—the start of lines spreading out from the corners of her eyes, a resigned slope of her shoulders. In her 30s, maybe: the last generation to remember life before.

“Please, follow me.” The woman gestured into a small room with a bright overhead light. She pointed Ellie to a cot covered with a faded, flowered sheet and Joel to a stool beside it. 

“I’m Nina, I work as a healer,” she said, extending a hand first to Ellie—who limply grasped it—and then to Joel.

He kept his arms down by his side.

“I thought you were an actual doctor,” he said sharply. 

He didn’t come here for one of Maria’s communist friends to do some crystal healing, align Ellie’s chakras or some shit.

She gave him a small smile. “People call me that because I’m the closest Jackson has, and I’ve been treating people for years. But no, I’m not old enough to have finished medical school 20 years ago.” Her voice was mild, even friendly, but her eyes asked a question: Are you going to be a problem for me?

He set his jaw but sat back on the stool. He’d at least see if she could help.

“It’s Ellie, isn’t it?” Nina moved closer to Ellie and smiled brightly at her miserable face, looking her up and down. She pulled an old glass thermometer out of a pocket and held it up for Ellie to see before popping it in her mouth. While she waited for it to take a measurement, she slid her other hand down to grasp Ellie’s wrist and held it lightly, watching the numbers on her watch as she felt for a pulse.

“When did she start feeling bad?” She nodded her head slightly in Joel’s direction—Ellie had her mouth full—but kept her eyes on her patient.

“Two days ago. Hit her like a ton of bricks. She’s had fever and chills, and won’t eat anything. Barely takin’ sips of water when I beg her to.”

“Sore throat?”

“Says it feels like knives.” Ellie nodded bleakly to confirm.

The doctor—or the healer, or whatever the hell she was—pulled the thermometer out and nodded at it. She raised both hands to Ellie’s neck, but paused before touching her. 

“I’m just going to feel here for your lymph nodes, Ellie.”

She waited to see confirmation in Ellie’s face before continuing, running her hands carefully down below her jawline.

The exam went on, through the familiar steps: Open your mouth as wide as you can, that’s good, now I’m going to check your ears.

He had a sudden, clear memory of sitting in the pediatrician’s office. Watching Sarah as she sat on a paper-covered table.

He could smell the disinfectant and powdered latex, and see the silhouette of her doctor standing there. He was a gray-haired man, always friendly in a fake-feeling way, who whore a crisp white coat over a shirt and tie.  Made him feel self-conscious, looking down at his dirt-caked boots and browned forearms.

Sarah used to sit on that exam table and cry when she had to get shots. Not all hysterical or fighting to get away like some kids—just silent tears that slipped out of the corner of her eyes.

He remembered how, when she was five years old, she’d swallowed a penny and he’d rushed her over to the clinic. It wasn’t like her to do something like that: she was thoughtful and sweet even at that age, a rule-follower to a fault. His heart had jackhammered in his chest as he had visions of her intestines puncturing or her being rushed to emergency surgery.

The doc explained patiently that these things usually “passed” on their own. With a little chuckle he gave him a plastic bowl that fit inside the toilet and instructions to check it for the next week to make sure the penny came out the other end. 

He recalled the rush of relief and the flush of embarrassment. Watching the doc laugh and feeling like a moron for having gotten himself so worked up.

“Earth to Joel,” Ellie croaked. He turned to see two pairs of eyes on his: Ellie’s red-rimmed and liquid brown, the doctor’s—he was now noticing— so dark they were almost black.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Most likely it’s strep throat, although there’s no way to tell for sure without tests I don’t have,” the doctor said. “I’ll give you some antibiotics, and if it is strep, it will start to get better right away.”

“What if it’s not strep?” Joel asked, heart in his throat.

She smiled. “Then it’s a virus, and she’ll get better on her own.” Her tone was reassuringly confident.  Joel watched her disappear briefly out the door, then return with a paper packet she pressed into his hand.

“Take these twice a day. Even if she starts to feel better, do not stop the medicine until it’s all gone. I know we’re all used to stretching supplies, but it doesn’t work that way with antibiotics—she’ll get sick again, and worse.” She looked to him for acknowledgement, and he nodded.

“Keep pushing her to drink fluids.” She turned to Ellie now, who was hunched over and looked about ready to pass out. “You’re dehydrated, kiddo. It’s part of why you feel so bad right now. If you don’t drink, it’s only going to get worse.” She spoke pointedly but gently, and Ellie shrugged an assent. “And if you aren’t feeling better in two days, come back and see me.”

It was late when Tommy got home. Pretty much every part of his body hurt after the day’s work— fixing freeze damage to their well system— and he had been dreaming of crawling into bed with Maria. 

Not the way he sometimes dreamed of crawling into bed with her, even now with her looking like she’d swallowed a watermelon. Maybe he’d have the energy for that in the morning, but tonight he just wanted to feel her in his arms and time his deep slow breaths with hers.

She was already fast asleep, so he moved as carefully as he could, lifting up the covers and sidling in behind her. She was curled on her left side and he tucked his body tightly against hers, his arm snaking gently around her bare belly. When he was lucky he could feel the baby kicking against his hand in this position, although right now both baby and mama were at rest.

He lay there, willing himself to relax into sleep. But there was too damn much on his mind these days. 

This winter had been brutal, even for Wyoming. The town had held together with a lot of hard work and ingenuity. But out there in the countryside, others had not been so successful. He’d heard awful stories: starvation, cannibalism, raiding parties far and wide. The patrols kept running into trouble, and although so far the groups had been small enough to handle, who was to say they’d stay that way?

Tommy knew that people in Jackson looked to him and Maria to keep them safe. It was more responsibility than he’d ever had before in his life, really. He was proud of himself— and scared shitless.

He breathed in Maria’s smell, nose pressed against the nape of her neck. He tried to count all the blessings in his life, savoring each one. It was a trick he used sometimes, to make his thoughts shut up. This incredible woman who had saved his life. The baby she was growing for them. This town. A full stomach. A warm bed. Joel doing so good, for once, with that kid of his.

Although Joel was maybe not the best topic to think about, if he wanted to sleep tonight. Not that he wasn’t grateful, or happy to have him nearby and safe. But his feelings were complicated. Sometimes he hated to admit how much of a hold his big brother still had on him. Made him feel like a little boy, hungry for approval. And at the same time reminded him of the lowest points in his life.

If he was honest with himself, he’d felt a lot of relief along with the guilt and sadness when he’d left Boston. He’d felt the same when he cut off radio contact.

Something had changed with Joel though, lately. He was still a bitter man, tightly wound and full of pain. But Tommy had seen moments of tenderness from him that he thought he’d never see again. Even moments of joy.

He felt the prickle of tears in his tired eyes. He knew he was being naive, that a little bit of good couldn’t undo all the darkness that they’d been through. But he clung to the hope still, as he started to drift off to sleep: him with his baby, Joel with his girl—maybe they would all be okay.

“Tommy!”

He turned with a smile as the doc walked up, clapping a hand against his back. “Hey Dr. Connor! How’s it been?”

“I’m going on your next southwest patrol,” she said. Announcing, not asking, as she had a frustrating tendency to do.

He took a sharp breath through his nose. “Nina—“

“It’s time to harvest willow bark. I need enough for the next year, for all of Jackson.”

“I understand, I really do. But this winter has been rough and people are desperate. We’ve had some kind of trouble almost every patrol. It’s just too dangerous to stop and hang around out there.” He used the most authoritative tone he could muster, trying to stare the small woman down.

“And people won’t be any less desperate until we’re well into April. By then the trees will be in full leaf and we’ll be out of the window for harvesting. And I’ll have half a dozen angry locals wanting to know why I don’t have the tea for their arthritis or their heart condition.”

She fixed him with a dark stare, and he fiddled with the frayed edge of his jacket cuff. 

She knew how Jackson worked, and if he said no she could and would bring it up at the council meeting. Where she would no doubt whip up the town’s crotchetiest and most infirm—who had nothing better to do than sit in on every meeting of every committee—into a rage over herbal tea. Shit.

He nodded curtly. “Friday at dawn. If there are any signs of trouble before we hit the riverbank, we’ll have to turn back.”

“I really appreciate it Tommy,” she said with what she surely thought was a winning smile. Which he did not return: he was not in the mood.

Marisa stirred the stockpot of oatmeal gently between customers, to keep crust from forming on top. She stared out at the dining room and watched the clusters of people. Some were deep in conversation; some wolfed down their breakfasts so they could hurry on with their days; others looked half-asleep still.

A group of teenagers were tucked way back in the corner, as far as they could get from the adults, clearly enjoying their morning bullshit session. She remembered doing that just a few years ago, with Anya and Jamal, when her dad wasn’t around to see her goofing off. He believed that if teenagers had energy to run their jaws, they had energy to work.

The new folks came in with a blast of cold air. 

They were an odd pair. The girl was rude and mouthed off too much, but she had a lot of energy and seemed like fun. The kind of kid Marisa had always been fascinated by, when she was that age. Wishing she could move in the world with that kind of confidence.

The man, though, gave her the willies. He was intense and stern, like her dad. He never smiled, although he did at least say please and thank you. She couldn’t hardly believe he was Tommy’s brother. Tommy was his exact opposite, gentle and friendly.

She used to think Tommy was cute. She still did, really, but she didn’t think about him much lately. She was too busy daydreaming about her Beloved. 

She called him that after an old romance book she’d found in an empty house and hidden under her mattress. The book took place during the Civil War, and the buxom narrator fell in love with a dashing soldier. She wrote letters to him every day, addressed to My Beloved. The soldier in the book had beautiful blue eyes, just like Marisa’s Beloved.

Tommy was out there now, talking with Dr. Connor. He looked unhappy. Dr. Connor could do that to people. She was always so nice when you were sick or hurt and went to see her. But out in the real world she could be mean as a snake. Or maybe she was more like a fox: someone sly, someone you had to watch.

Brandy Burkholder had started working with her last summer, after a several month campaign. Nina had eventually determined that she was serious about learning to practice medicine, despite the fact that she wasn’t terribly serious about anything else. She was an outgoing sixteen-year-old with a pretty smile and a flare for the dramatic, and she came by on Tuesdays and Thursdays to help Nina with various tasks.

Today it was supply inventory. Every other week she went through what she had, checked her levels on common medications and herbs, and looked through her equipment for signs of damage or wear. 

Nina enjoyed inventory, even if what she had to inventory was often pathetic. There was something calming about lining up all the bottles, looking over her orderly shelves, and counting all the pills and needles and rolls of gauze. 

And there was some extra excitement this afternoon: they were going through a bag of random medicines and gear to see what could be salvaged. Anya and Clemons had found in an empty house on a hunting trip earlier that week.

Brandy held up an orange plastic bottle of pills from the haul. “Dox—y—cy—cline,” she sounded out carefully. “That’s an antibiotic, right? So it goes in the cabinet above the sink?”

“Hold up. What’s the date on the bottle?”

“Um, let me see.” She squinted to read the fading print. “Damn. It’s from 1999. This is an antique!”

Nina shook her head. “Toss it. Expired tetracyclines can be toxic.” It was a shame— she really could have used it. 

She pulled out a bottle of Benadryl tablets, and pried open the lid. Some of the pills had swollen with absorbed moisture and cracked, but they were mostly intact and there was no mold. She added it to the keep pile.

Brandy showed her a box of individually packaged 22 gauge needles. The plastic wrappers were warped and brittle and had cracked open along the seams. But the needles inside were straight and sharp. She would sanitize them in the autoclave and they’d be good as new. Another keep.

A bottle of cough syrup had hardened to a shiny paste— toss. Two inhalers were empty—toss again. Half a tub of vaseline went in the keep pile. Then she found something really good at the bottom of the bag: an almost-full bottle of Valium.

“Isn’t this the stuff that bored housewives used to get high on?” Brandy asked, smirking.

“Yes, and that’s why it goes in the locked cabinet,” Nina said pointedly. She didn’t need Brandy getting any ideas. “But more importantly, it’s the best treatment when someone’s actively having a seizure. It’s also very helpful for setting bones.”

“Sweet! There was some good loot in that bag.”

Nina looked over the shelves appraisingly. “Yes, but it’s not enough. This all has to last until Mo comes by in April.”

“Are you going out to meet him?” Brandy’s eyes sparkled at the mention of the smuggler. Nina knew how people talked about him: the dashing Robin Hood who stole from FEDRA and gave to the people. But it’s not like he gave them anything: they paid him, in valuable farm goods like butter and honey, for every last thing.

Nina didn’t say anything about that to Brandy, though; let the kid have her fantasies. She also didn’t mention the fear that kept her up at night— that next time she went out to meet Mo, he wouldn’t show. She knew it was only a matter of time before his line of work caught up with him, and that when it happened they would be shit out of luck. Jackson did a lot of things well, but manufacturing antibiotics wasn’t one of them.

“Yep, April ninth. Three weeks after the equinox,” was all she said.

The sun was melting into the horizon, bathing the street in golden light and purple shadows. Joel was walking to the saddler when he saw the woman up ahead and quickened his pace.

“Hey! Dr. Connor!”

She turned as he approached and raised an eyebrow. “So I’m enough of a doctor for you now? How’s Ellie?”

“Well, she’s a hundred percent better. Givin’ me shit and drivin’ me crazy.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” The doctor seemed genuinely pleased. “I’m sure you deserve whatever shit she’s giving you,” she added.

“Look,” he said, furrowing his brow. “I wasn’t very fair to you the other day. And you helped us out anyway. I appreciate that.”

She looked at him, meeting his eyes with an intensity that startled him. There were those deep brown irises he’d noticed in her office, framed by thick black lashes. 

Then she smiled, holding out her hand to him. Her grip was surprisingly firm as they shook. “You’re not the first person to doubt my expertise. I appreciate you putting your daughter in my care.”

He looked over her shoulder, at the reddish sky reflecting in the window of a supply depot, and took a breath. “I know people don’t pay for things here or anything, but I feel like—I mean, I would like to give you something at least. For the medicine.”

She waved dismissively. “I’ve seen you go out on patrol. You keep Jackson safe, I keep Jackson alive. We all do our part.”

She laid a hand on his stiff shoulder and gave him a pat. Then she turned and headed back in the direction she’d been walking, before he could figure out how he ought to respond. He watched her for a moment, her dark curls swinging over a denim jacket, his shoulder tingling with a phantom pressure where her hand had been a moment ago. 

Jackson made him real fucking uncomfortable, sometimes. 

He didn’t like owing people favors, and he didn’t feel like he belonged in a town where everyone was so nice all the time. The doctor was case in point— he’d been mean to her when they’d first met, and that hadn’t been right. But he’d tried to be nice to her too now, and it still felt weird as hell. Maybe he’d entirely forgotten how to be nice.

He walked on, hands shoved in his pockets. If he was honest, he didn’t want to be living here. In the house across from his little brother, like some kind of post-apocalyptic sitcom. It brought back all kinds of things he didn’t want to think about.

He was going on patrol Friday and he was looking forward to it. At least out there he knew what to do with himself. Stay alert, keep moving, assess the situation, maintain control— with force if needed.

Ellie looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, then quickly opened the door below the red cross and slipped inside. She sighed with relief to see no one inside the waiting room, and sat down with her backpack clutched to her chest. 

Dr. Connor stepped into the room, thankfully alone, and smiled warmly as she pointed Ellie toward a door. Ellie darted in and jumped up on the cot, then looked down at her sneakers. One had a bit of rubber starting to come loose around the toe, and she gently wiggled it with her other foot. She heard Dr. Connor close the door behind her, and then the expectant silence.

“How can I help you today, Ellie?” 

Her cheeks burned, and she found she couldn’t look up. Why did the town doctor have to be beautiful? For an old person, but still. She kept studying her feet, as she heard the scrape of a chair being pulled over and the soft thump of Dr. Connor sitting down a few feet away.

When the doctor spoke again, her voice was soft. “I’ll ask you a few questions. All you have to do is say yes or no. You don’t even have to speak, just shake your head. Okay?” Ellie exhaled, then nodded.

“Did someone hurt you?” Ellie shook her head no emphatically.

“Are you having a problem with a private part of your body?” Ellie paused, then nodded once.

“Is it your related to your period?” Head shake. “Are you having pain?” Head shake. “Itchiness?” Nod. “Discharge?” Ellie felt like her cheeks were going to catch on fire as she nodded again.

“Are you sexually active?”

“No!” Ellie shouted, looking up at Dr. Connor with a startled stare. 

“It would be okay if you were. You wouldn’t be in trouble. And I wouldn’t tell anyone—not even Joel.” Her voice was even and conversational, as if she were talking about the weather and not about fucking. 

“Well, I’m not,” she snapped. “I don’t know why this is happening. It’s never done this before.”

“Have you ever taken antibiotics before?” 

She thought for a moment. At FEDRA school they gave you pills sometimes if you were sick, but they never even told you what they were. Some of the kids said they were sugar pills, and some of the kids said they were tranquilizers designed to make you behave. She shrugged. “I don’t actually know.”

“Did your symptoms start after you began taking the pills?” Ellie nodded. 

“I’ll want to do a quick exam to be sure, but yeast infections can be a side effect of antibiotics. Your vulva actually has a lot of bacteria living in it—good bacteria.” Ellie raised her eyebrows and fixed the doctor with a horrified look, but she ignored her and went on speaking. 

“It’s like a garden with lots of different plants growing side by side. The plants are healthy, and there are enough of them that they fill up the space and keep the weeds out. The antibiotic got rid of the bad bacteria in your throat, but it also wiped out the good bacteria in your vulva. It’s like we picked all the good stuff from that garden, and now there’s good soil and plenty of space for bad stuff to grow. That’s allowed the yeast to take over—it’s actually a fungus.”

“Like cordyceps?” Ellie asked, eyes widening. 

“Yes, like cordyceps. But it’s a different species, and unlike cordyceps we have medication that will kill the yeast. You’ll be back to normal in no time.” Ellie felt relief wash over her. 

Wednesday morning was for house calls. As she left the dining hall, her supply bag bouncing heavily against her left hip, she ran into Ellie and Joel on their way in. The girl smiled sheepishly and looked away; the man twitched a corner of his mouth and held the door for her.  Which for gruff types like that, new to civilization, was as good as a pledge of everlasting fealty.

She watched her breath fog through the cold March morning as she walked, feeling vaguely anxious.

Miss Nora’s house was on the corner, a low redbrick ranch. She let herself in, knowing Miss Nora’s son was out prepping the fields for planting, and headed into the living room that doubled as Miss Nora’s bedroom these days. She was sitting up in her bed, carefully knitting a big orange sweater. “Dr. Connor! So good of you to come by.”

Nina leaned in, letting Miss Nora plant a papery kiss on her cheek. “You know you can call me Nina,” she said, pulling her stethoscope out of her bag and sitting on the edge of the mattress. 

She gave her brightest smile, trying to hide any trace of the dismay she felt every time she walked in there.  Miss Nora was 67, and until last fall had looked a decade younger than that. Now every week she seems to age another 5 years, her face growing gaunter, her hair thinner, her skin more sallow.

Her son Jamal, ever diligent, tried to tempt her with all her favorite foods, but she would push the plate away after a bite or two. He fought with her over it, convinced that if she would just force herself to eat she would regain her strength. 

Nina, on the other hand, was not so optimistic. She thought Miss Nora’s body was shutting down: the lack of appetite was only a symptom of something much more serious.

She suspected cancer, but couldn’t say for sure what kind. Obviously, it was affecting the liver or the common bile duct, based on her yellowing eyes and skin. But that could be a metastasis from a solid tumor somewhere else. She once again felt the woman’s abdomen gently, palpating for a mass. Still nothing. Not that it mattered, ultimately—even if she could magically intuit that it was, say,  pancreatic cancer, she wouldn’t be any closer to being able to treat it.

At least her lungs still sounded clear. Nina pulled the stethoscope from her ears and slung it around her neck.  “Are you ready for your breathing treatment?” 

The woman nodded enthusiastically as Nina carefully packed the pipe she’d brought with dried leaves.  

It was old, crumbly, and low quality, and it was hell to get ahold of. But like the opium she kept carefully hidden away in her locked cabinet, marijuana was one of the more potent herbal medicines in her arsenal. 

She had nothing else to offer Miss Nora.

She saved Maria for her last stop of the morning. Maria could have easily come to her clinic, even 7 months along, but Nina wanted to confer with her anyways. And she loved Maria’s house—with the late morning light pouring through the windows she could almost believe she was in the suburbs of her childhood.

Maria was making tea when she arrived, and they sat in the living room with a mug each. The steam felt good against her face—while they were out of the worst of the winter, the wind was still brutal on these mornings as she walked from house to house.

After a little small talk she eased Maria backwards on the couch and pulled out her Pinard horn, rolling it between her palms for warmth. Nina had carved it herself out of maple wood, shaping the little trumpet painstakingly to match the illustrations in an old midwifery book.

She could still remember the sense of triumph when, years ago, she first pressed it into a woman’s belly and heard the fetal heartbeat buried inside. People thought medicine was some kind of noble calling—and there were moments when it felt that way to her, too. But more often she was driven by that magic feeling of the body yielding up its secrets to her.

Everything looked good on the exam, despite Maria’s “advanced maternal age.” The same as it had been every week of her pregnancy so far.  

Still, Nina worried. 

There was a lot that could go wrong bringing a baby into the world, for both baby and mother. Maria was her friend, and she knew how devastated she would be if she lost the child. She also knew how much Maria meant to Jackson, and she worried about the impact of losing Maria even more.

“I’d like your thoughts on something.”

Maria fixed her with one of her looks. “It’s usually not something good when you say that.”

Nina sighed. “I had a patient come in yesterday with what was almost certainly the clap. I treated him, but the man in question was married, and I have reason to believe he didn’t get it from his wife.”

Maria’s brow shot up. “Jesus, Nina. That’s not something I want to know about.”

“I would rather not have to know about it either. But we need to know about it. Both women he’s sleeping with could have infections.” 

Maria’s expression hardened as she listened. 

“And if the women have other partners, who knows how many people in Jackson are affected? Gonorrhea isn’t just a drippy dick. People could have pelvic inflammatory disease, ectopic pregnancies, miscarriages. Babies can be born with infections.”

“Do you know who the other woman is? You could treat her, too,” Maria offered.

“I… have my suspicions. But I’m not 100%. And he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

She thought about Derek Starkey sitting in her clinic, head buried in his hands. Starkey’s wife, Jenna, had given birth to their first kid last summer. They’d always made a beautiful couple: Starkey was a big guy, tall and broad, with ruddy cheeks and icy blue eyes. Jenna was tough and sweet, with a blonde ponytail and freckles across the bridge of her nose. The son they doted on took after them both, depending on the day.

She was inclined to hate Starkey’s guts. 

A guy who couldn’t take it when his wife wasn’t dressing up as prettily as she used to or wasn’t as available as she once was to him, because she was busy caring for his infant child. Marisa Robinson, who worked with Starkey in the kitchens when he wasn’t on patrol, was younger and needy and made puppy dog eyes at him while he kneaded dough with his big strong arms. It was a tale as old as time: another shitty man behaves badly.

She struggled to hold onto her resolve, though, as they spoke. Starkey’d been barely sleeping since the kid was born. Every night in bed he was flooded with images of terrible deaths. He saw his child infected, shot, decapitated, drowned. All those monstrous things he’d seen over the years and had been powerless to stop, and which he now felt powerless to protect his beautiful boy from. Life in Jackson had given him a measure of peace, which had seemed like enough when it was just him and Jenna. But it felt too horribly tenuous now to trust. And Jenna didn’t get it. She slept like a rock between feedings. She told him to get over himself, had no time to talk him down from his panic attacks. Someone else had been willing to hold him while he shook with fear.

“Then we have to tell the wife, at least.”

Nina shook her head. “I keep going back and forth on it. It might break up a marriage, and that could have reverberations throughout the community. And the other woman, there could be consequences for her, too.” She thought of Marisa’s controlling father, who always creeped her out. 

“But also the next time someone has symptoms like this they might not come to me, because I wouldn’t be a safe person to tell. Then this stuff would spread around town and we wouldn’t even know.”

Maria gave her an exasperated look. 

Nina wasn’t sure what she had expected. It would feel so nice to off-load this problem onto Maria. But her friend was maybe too absolutist to navigate this one. Or else there just was no way to resolve things that would feel right. 

“I’m going to have to think on it some more,” she said, as she packed her supplies. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

#tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x original character #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #Ellie Williams #Tommy Miller #Maria Miller #soft!joel miller #series #tlou fluff #tlou show #tlou

[sharkfinn]

After what you just posted, I couldn't even form words for five minutes. That reaction image was the exact face I was making, lol. I'm not even mad because I am way too baffled by this reveal. Bro, I love this au an uncontrollable amount.

I kind of caught on a bit ago, but I didn't know that Draxum like truly truly cared about the turtles in this au. I knew he loved Spot, but I didn't know where he truly stood with the others...I'm not 100% sure he's the good guy yet. But I can tell that you've fully embraced Dad Draxum. He definitely would've been a wonderful father in the show. That's one of the main things about Rise that I so desperately wished we got to see more of. In a way, this au is healing a part that part of my soul :']

I guess the turtles really don't remember anything. I don't know if Splinter is actually dead or not because I still think there's more to the story. But I'm pretty confused since we haven't actually seen him yet. But if he is, then that really sucks :'( Leo did mention them already having a father figure, so I hope that's him mentioning Splinter.

Man, the poor babies watched their Dad get killed right in front of them by someone they don't even know. I still have no clue as to why the Rat King is after their family! I don't know why he killed Lou. I don’t know why he took the others. They were literally just playing together, and then out of nowhere, the Rat King just dumped Yoshi's body on the ground. Draxum had to watch it, too. And all he could do was save Spot from that monster.

So I guess you could say Little Brother is a bit like a separation au with a mission. It's kind of like the Life Mission au, ngl. I'm still excited about that project.

Anyway, all the signs were there.

Draxum talking with them. It's a lot more gentle than he did in the show, too. Wanting them to meet Spot and telling them, "There's so much you still don't know." I just assumed he was talking about Spot. Nope, there was so much more meaning behind those words.

Spot drawing a picture of him saving his brothers from the "Rat King" because he quite literally watched them get taken and was defenseless to stop it. Either what happened is actually what happened. He just wants to save his brothers and be with them again. He also believes the Rat King still has him under their clutches. But what about Draxum? He's met them already, and he's met April. What's his side of the story? And if Splinter is still alive, then that opens room for Spot to question, "What? How?". And since his brothers don't remember him and don't remember being taken, then he's gonna think they got brainwashed. Then that's gonna be a whole ordeal that'll start conflicting Spot about everything. That's where I think he's gonna start turning against Drax. Only if Splints is alive. I just don't believe they've been taking care of themselves this whole time. Because then April's relationship with them would be a little more complicated.

And this part? Wow, it makes so much more sense now. His brothers, in fact, do not remember him for a reason. And Spot is, has, in fact, NOT grown. It's just, from the angle you put him at, he looks a lot taller than what he actually is. Because it had literally only been three weeks later from where we're at now. Anyway, I'm assuming that the reason he's chasing April is because Draxum saw them with her and assumed she's the enemy. So, where I think this is going is that this is Spots' first real try at getting his brothers back. And I now know that he most likely hasn't turned against Draxum, lmao 💀

I mean, it's still possible since I have a little inkling that Draxum may be lying about something. Or may have gone in Spots memory or whatever. It's just a hunch, I guess. It's not like I want it to be the truth, though. I would love to be wrong and for him to truly just be a wonderful Dad. And for him to want to save his babies and get revenge on the Rat King as much as Spot does. I'm just trying to piece together what could have happened to Yoshi.

And that nightmare he keeps having? It's just a replay of what happened that night, over and over. My boy is traumatized, and all I wanna do is wrap him up in a weighted blanket and give him his brothers back :'(((((((

Aaaah, Finn. I love this au so muuuuuuuch, it's killing me. And you're cute frickin adorable artstyle that I wanna gobble up isn't helping. Also, the new design for the Rat King is SO COOL. He is AWESOME, so here's a gold star for amazing character design ⭐️⭐️⭐️

GGGRRRRHGGRGRGRAAAAAAAAAGGRGHHHHHH!!!!!!! SHAKING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS

#little brother au #sharkfinnasks #rottmnt au

[insomniac-dot-ink]

(they are all universally Sapphic romances too)

Fool's Errand

Genre: Adult fantasy

Summary: A jester is beheaded for blasphemy and sent to find a witch to sew her head back on. The witch doesn't want to get involved with the court politics and a half-dead knave, but the fool is entirely persistent.

Words have power in a world of a paranoid king and a queen playing the game with unseen chess pieces. Including a headless one.

You Are the Bitch

Genre: Horror parody

Summary: Much has been said about The Last Girl, but what about the First Girl? The Bitch is always the first to die in her slasher movie universe. A cycle that repeats itself. After remembering her last death, Jessica “wakes up” and decides to stop the cycle through celibacy, studiousness, or changing the game itself. Unfortunately, the literal world wants to kill her.

A Ground Hog's Day story asking the real questions: What is a bitch? Why is a bitch? How is a bitch?

Damned is the Daughter

Genre: Mafia crime body guard romance

Summary: Set in a secondary world of Saints and Sinners, Genevieve is the heir to a crime empire after her eldest sister seems to have disappeared with all her secrets and spy network with her. Contrary to popular believe, Gigi did not get rid of her sister to get ahead and instead plans to track down the darkened path she led.

Genevieve's childhood friend, Landyn, left their seaside city to become a combat medic in the Great War, but was propelled into deeper sects of the bloodshed. She returned only to be summoned by a crime lord. Best friends with both Genevieve and Cecily growing up and now skilled, their father will pay her to keep his daughter safe-- and away from the underbelly of the city. Genevieve on the other hand, has no use for a cage.

Childhood friends bodyguard AU.

(Inspired by The Green Bones Saga but I haven't decided whether to add a magical element now or not)

A Practice in Imperfection

Genre: Contemporary romance

Summary: Dannie is a perfectionist and knows it’s probably ruining her life especially in the realm of romance. She decides to do something about it through the only way she knows how, practice.

Ash needs a place to lick her wounds after her band breaks up in the worst of ways and their tour is cut short. She agrees to the free rent at Dannie’s place in exchange for the oddest agreements she’s ever heard of: help recreate an imperfect relationship to practice on.

Complete opposites, both are sure they would never fall for each other. But there is something about a fake very bad relationship that might make a good one.

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I still haven't figured out where I want to post my next serialized novel after MRIAC. I may just go back to Tapas, we'll see, even if they do take a pretty big cut though.

(If anyone has any hosting sites for chapter by chapter works, let me know. I'm looking for something that is discoverable, has a tipping option/payment option, and relatively no-pressure to use. Thank you!!)

#polls #story ideas #thank you!

[dem0nic-darling]

Making Up For Lost Time (Ryomen Sukuna x AFABReader) 18+

18+ CONTENT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning- Size kink, creampie, breeding, squirting, unprotected sex, monster fucking, dirty talking

Synopsis: Sukuna hasn't seen his wife for over a millennia and when they're finally reunited his lust for her quickly gets the better of him.

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"Crap, are you okay?" The tall pink haired boy asked, looking down at you with concern. "Yeah, I'm fine." Your vessel replied, picking herself off the ground. "I'm really sorry for bumping into you like that, you're sure you're not hurt right?" The boy asked, scratching his neck, concern still evident on his face. You rolled your eyes as your vessel offered him a small smile of reassurance. "Don't worry, it happens. And yes I'm totally fine, it's sweet for you to worry though." Red dusted the young boys cheeks as he shot your vessel an awkward smile "I'm Yuji Itadori by the way." He said, nervously offering you his hand which your vessel shyly took, bringing a malicious grin to your face. The world of your vessel fading away as you and Sukuna's domains bled into each other.

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When the domain union had reached completion you stood before a shrine that was a magnificent fusion of you and Sukuna's domain, exactly as it once had been before the jujutsu sorcerers had torn the two of you apart over a millennia ago.

At the familiar sight of your beloved you felt your cold dead heart fill with life once again. "Ryomen!" The curse quickly turned around at the sound of your voice, his heart also thrumming back to life in his chest at the sight of you. You quickly cascaded the shrines steps before leaping into Sukuna's awaiting arms that pulled you into a passionate kiss. The kiss was desperate and overwhelming as a thousand years worth of heartache and love flowed through it. It angered him that because of the sorcerers he had forgotten the sweet taste of your plump lips and how perfectly they melded with his own.

After a few minutes Sukuna finally forced himself to pull away, the sight of your kiss-swollen lips tempting him to capture them in another mind-numbing kiss and never come up for air. But his need to drink in your ethereal beauty, which he had found himself fantasizing about since the day you were ripped away from him was of a much greater temptation.

With a tenderness only you could receive from the King of Curses he gently caressed your face. "How I've missed you dear wife." His eyes filled with admiration softening as you placed your hand over his. Like the rest of you it was small and delicate in comparison to his own, lighting a primal instinct within him that caused his cocks to twitch to life.

The large bulge that poked you through his kimono was hard to miss and who were you to deny your husband the pleasure you too desperately yearned for. The need to have your husbands cocks buried inside you had you rubbing your thighs together, slick drooling from your cunt.

Your reaction brought a smirk to Sukuna's face. "Can you blame me? I haven't gotten to feel that perfect little cunt of yours for an eternity. You're lucky I didn't stuff you full the moment I got my hands on you, dear wife." You scoffed, a small smile playing on your lips "Such a vulgar man I've married." you teased only for him lovingly nip at your ear before flashing you a toothy grin. "Don't act like you don't love it."

You eagerly captured his lips in another passionate kiss, reveling in the groan that sounded from Sukuna's throat as you seductively tugged at his lower lip, biting down softly before releasing it. One gaze into your sultry eyes destroyed Sukuna's little remaining patience, leading him to teleport the two of you to your bedroom, where he then tossed you onto the giant bed and crawled on top of you with eyes full of hunger and lust.

With a growl he tore the fine silk that tightly hugged your soft flesh off of your body, leaving it in a shredded heap on the edge of the bed, his kimono soon joining it in a similar state. Sukuna took a moment to drink in your beauty, you doing the same with him. As beautiful as you looked dressed in fine silks and linens and adorned in jewels he much preferred when he could freely gaze upon your naked flesh, with nothing to conceal your perky breasts, plump ass, and the delicacy that hid between your thighs.

Similar sinful thoughts polluted your mind as you traced your hands over his chest and beautifully sculpted abs, admiring his strong physique and the many markings that adorned it. You hands soon trailed down to his two monstrous cocks and you began stroking them, enamored by their thick veins and bulbous tips that heavily weeped pre-cum.

The feeling of your small hands caressing his throbbing cocks broke the trance your ethereal beauty had placed Sukuna under. Despite how much he had missed the sight of your hands being unable to wrap around his massive lengths he could no longer restrain himself from shoving his hard cocks into the plush walls of your pussy.

Ripping your hands away from his manhood and intertwining your fingers with his own he placed a quick peck to your lips and stared down at you with lust-clouded eyes. "You asked for it my little vixen." He said, before sheathing himself inside you with a guttural groan. "Ryomennn!~" He didn't give you a moment to breath, folding your body into a mating press with ease before fucking into you at intense speed. "Fuck, I've missed this pussy so much~ Bet you missed my thick cocks stuffing this sweet cunt full, huh baby?" You could only nod, the feeling of being split open on his cocks after so long having left you a drooling mess. "Don't tell me I've fucked you dumb already wife, I still have a millennia worth of cum to fuck you full of."

At the feeling of your pussy spasming around him he let out a series of groans that joined your symphony of moans and whimpers. "Does my poor wife need to cum already? Fuck you're so hot baby, go ahead squirt on these dicks!" Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of his long fingers, calloused from years of fighting, rubbed your sensitive and aching clit, while one of his cocks pounded into your sweet spot. Sukuna let out a loud groan at the feeling of your nails tearing into the flesh of his back and your gummy walls clenching around his thick cocks as your body spasmed in ecstasy.

"That's it baby, fuck your pussy's squeezing me so well~" Sukuna grunted into your ear, continuing his rough assault on your tender pussy as he began to batter your cervix with the bulbous heads of his cocks. "Fuck, be a good little wife and milk this cock for me, yeah? Fuck!~" You only whined, too caught up in the way the veins of his cocks rubbed against your walls and the monstrous cocks of your husband stretched you out and dominated your insides.

"Fuck, I can't wait for us to regain our forms so I can fuck my seed into your womb and make your body swell with my offspring." Your pussy clenched around him at his filthy declaration, the idea of getting to carry his strong children awakening a burning need inside of you. "Please Ryo...needit...needit so bad." You slurred, raking your nails down his back. With a growl Sukuna leaned back on his hind legs, his cocks still buried deep inside of you, and began bucking into you like an animal, roughly groping your tits he couldn't wait to fill with milk as the mouths he conjured on his hands hungrily sucked and nibbled on your nipples. "You want that? You want me to fuck a child into you? Yeah? Oh fuck, keep milking my cock like that. Fuck, ah fuck, take it, take my fucking cum baby ngh~" The both of you moaned in unison as he emptied his cum into your womb, once again causing you to squirt on his twitching cocks.

After a few minutes filled with panting and sloppy passionate kisses Sukuna bucked into you with a smirk on his face, nowhere near done making up for lost time and practicing to knock you up. The two of you completely without care for the crisis you had left your vessels with, both of which who were currently panicking from the marking that had appeared on their hands after making contact.

#+18 content #fanfiction #no minors allowed #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #smut #minors do not interact #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen smut

[sophsicle]

Part II

(Part I I will be honest, they're not exactly parts, but they're close enough, like they're mostly just sketches of ideas for something so the continuity is real sus, but there is some connection, also I barely edited this so sooorrrrrrryy I just had an idea so I did a little tappity tap tap)

Regulus is alone. Which is a new and not entirely unwelcome experience.

Usually there are servants, courtiers, advisors.

Regulus is very often lonely. But he is seldom alone. And yet...here he is.

He stands in his brother's bedchamber, the bed still unmade, empty bottles of wine on the tables, piles of books on the floor. Clothes everywhere - over the chairs, balled up in the corners. Some are his brother's, some are, quite clearly, not. Mostly what Regulus sees is the small piece of parchment placed so delicately on Sirius's pillow. There's not much on it. Just five words. I asked you to come

It's hard to swallow. Regulus isn't sure what it is he feels exactly. Anger, grief, betrayal. Betrayal more than the rest of it. Their father has barely been dead three days.

"You haven't sent out a search party."

He grimaces, wiping his face clean before he turns around to face his mother. She's dressed in an ornate black gown, covered in jewels and lace, the most extravagant widow in the whole kingdom.

"No," Regulus says finally. "No, I don't see much point. We have no idea where he's gone."

His mother's dark eyes narrow. "Don't you." It is only many years of training - of beatings - that keeps Regulus's eyes from rolling. "I told you, he didn't tell me anything."

Lets steal a ship. What?

Come on Reg, you and me. Lets steal a ship. Lets go discover something. I don't want to die an old man in my bed.

You'd rather die a young man on a ship?

I'd rather live.

Regulus turns away from his mother, walking towards the window. You can see almost the whole grounds from here. The intricate gardens, the orchard to the west, the forest just on the edge of the property. The best view in the palace.

Makes sense, Sirius is the king after all. Has been. For a whole three days.

"You have a plan then? For finding him? Because the second the families find out he's gone for good this time-"

"I know."

"- they'll come for our throats. And I mean that quite literally."

"I know."

The families are the three other noble lines with a claim to the throne. The Blacks have been in power barely thirty years and their hold on the kingdom has always been shaky. Sirius leaving could ruin them. Will ruin them. Which Regulus thinks, is probably part of the reason his brother did it.

"We haven't got the army or the funds to fight a civil war, let alone win one," she's crept up on him, standing too close, a shiver running down his spine. "So I hope you have a plan to bring him back." Down below a man walks into view. He has long shaggy brown curls, barely contained by a leather strap. He's playing with one of Sirius's dogs - a giant black hound - throwing sticks. Not exactly courtly behaviour.

"I think I know someone who might have some information."

"Well then give him to Greyback so we can get it already."

Regulus feels himself go very still. Fenrir Greyback was one of their father's most trusted advisors, and oldest friends. He's also a torturer. No one uses that word, of course. No one says it out loud. But that is what he does.

"I don't think that will be necessary," the man below him bends down, scratching the dogs head so thoroughly that the ridiculous creature quickly plops down and shows him his belly. Even from this distance, Regulus can make out James Potter's laugh.

"Regulus, you can't be soft about this."

That's her favourite word for him.

His brother is reckless.

But Regulus is soft.

He takes one final look at the pirate below him before turning away. "I'll get the information mother. Don't you worry."

#I like it kinda tho #like the first one is weak #but I feel like there's something here #I'm trying think of a title #currently it's Of His Bones #we'll see #that'll change #soph rambles #jegulus #pirate au #royal au

[erathene]

New fic idea: Modern Middle-Aged Man in Middle Earth.

His wife and kids have left him and he's alone, low self-esteem, mental health in the dumpster. Slumped on the sofa on a Sunday afternoon, surrounded by wrappers and empty crisp packets, TV on with the Netflix "are you still watching?" banner on the screen. On a nearby table are final demand letters and bills, an eviction notice, and a photo frame with two children at the beach.

Modern Man decides to have clear out; might as well before the bailiffs come and the eviction becomes real, less stuff to move out with etc. He comes across an old PlayStation 2 games console that belonged to his son. He decides fuck it, let's plug it into the TV and have a go.

Lord of the Rings: Return of the King has been left in the disk drive. The menu loads up. Modern Man grabs the controller and begins to play as Aragorn getting through the paths of the dead.

The console short-circuits and transports Modern Man to Middle Earth (yes I know I know it's basically Jumanji blahblabhlaja)

He encounters other male characters (maybe in Rohan but idk) and sees how they are men of honour, role models, fighters, doing their duty for their homeland

Cue the CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

He starts eating well, sparring in the training ground and working out. Many, many years of eating junk food and sitting at an office desk haven't done him any favours, but shit it's not like there's much else to do in a world where electricity and desk jobs are not a thhing.

He starts working through some of the Issues that he has avoided for years. Finds out that talking about them helps, a lot.

Figures out why his wife (who is called Penny) left him: he loved her but didn't regularly show it, kept his feelings bottled up, didn't open up to her, made her feel shut out. Reeealllyy want Boromir to help him figure this out, don't ask why. Already knew his missed his kids (called Charlotte and James btw) but now knows he really misses them, would trade anything to hug them one last time.

Participates in a battle. Isn't an amazing warrior but has had enough practice to hold his own. Has a few close calls. But keeps going and keeps going. He starts to tire; he's not invincible and there are so many enemies.

Eventually takes a fatal blow. 😭

Wakes up back in the Modern World.

Realises he's been given a second chance, gets his Shit Together. Hugs Charlotte and James as soon as he sees them (and probably doesn't let go for a while despite their cries of "Daaad, get off!") . Gets evicted but finds a better place to live, closer to his kids. Joins the gym. Makes up with Penny. Things are looking up.

The PlayStation 2 console is packed away..... For now.

There are some bits that are not entirely... original.. But idk, I would read it?? Maybe??? 🤔

#might delete later

[caparrucia]

For the prompt meme, Cor and Nyx reunite after time apart, if it strikes you? Congrats on finishing your fic!

Thank you! Have some Witch!Nyx, because I haven't played with that verse in an age!

They meet again in the Nebulawood, exactly two years after the fall of Insomnia.

Rumor has it there’s a witch hiding in the woods, that she trades potions and elixirs for basic supplies. With the King dead and the Prince AWOL, the remnants of the Crownsguard and the mutinous forces from the Kingsglaive do not have the steady access to such things they once did. All the stashes remaining are carefully inventoried and painstakingly dosed out. But still, the rumors remain.

A witch in the woods, who cannot be found on command but who, if actually encountered, will trade a crate of potions for a week’s worth of water.

Once, a fledging recruit from Lestallum’s stronghold comes back with a crateful of elixirs and insists the witch asked for nothing at all.

It the rumor is true, Cor reckons it’s the elusive Witch of the Thicket, who’s been missing ever since Caem went up in flames. But it’s just as likely the rumors are false and it’s just a trap waiting for idiots to fall for it. Well, no bigger idiot than him around.

After a somewhat harrowing hunt – really, a series of increasingly annoying hunts, including what appeared to be a corrupted behemoth – Cor determines the following: the witch is no witch at all, and he is no she at all.

“You put on the ring, didn’t you?” Cor asks, watching Nyx sit back after their initial scuffle, which might have devolved into some playful sparring if not for the fact Nyx ran out of stamina halfway through.

Nyx grins, overgrown hair giving some credence to the misguided rumors, as it hides the bits of his face the obligatory witch-like cloak and hood doesn’t. His skin is charred and scarred, but not healed, glowing still like embers at the back of the fireplace.

“You know I’m a sucker for a bad deal,” Nyx replies, and beneath the ruin of his appearance, his eyes glint with the same stubborn, monstrous light they always did.

“I thought that was my line,” Cor says, offering a hand, trying to reach out.

“You shouldn’t get too close,” Nyx rebuked, but gentle, the way he always did whenever Cor tried to take a bunch of bad habits, some recurrent dates and their insistence to orbit one another, and make it into something approaching a relationship. “I’m due combusting any time now.”

“Combusting,” Cor says, deadpan.

Nyx grins, wide and wild and more than a little bit mad.

“They keep trying to smite me,” he says, eyes bright, “and I keep stealing their magic when they do.”

“Which you then turn into the supplies you’ve been distributing out of this shithole,” Cor surmises, impressed nonetheless at the sheer viciousness of it.

Nyx laughs.

“Hey, my shithole,” he shakes his head. “Fuck, it’s downright homey at this point.”

“You live in the skull of a dead behemoth,” Cor points out, because he can never resist the urge to quip back at Nyx and the reflex is there, like no time has passed at all.

Nyx laughs, a clattering noise, like a magpie but worse.

“I wouldn’t be a very good witch if I didn’t, right?”

Cor knows better than to nurse something as poisonous as hope in his heart. He knows better.

But of course, that has never stopped him before.

#rie answers #garbria #fanfic #cor leonis #nyx ulric #cornyx

[the-monkey-ruler]

who were Nezha's brothers, also why did he try to kill his father?

Nezha has two brothers Muzha and Jinzha, and a sister Zhenying, as well as an adopted sister Lady Earth Flow.

Muzha who we actually see quite a bit in Xiyouji as he is GuanYin's disciple, whom she often takes with him on her outings and fights by her side. He did most of his work in the first few chapters fighting Bajie and Wujing but he plays as more of a message for the rest of the series, making people forget about him a bit. He was also in Fengshen Yanyi though I haven't gotten around to reading that yet.

And Jinzha who honestly I know less about since I still have not read Fengshen Yanyi despite being watching the 2003 Nezha series. He is the disciple of Wenshu Guangfa Tianzun.

King Li tried to kill Nezha when he was born, not because he hated Nenzha but because he was not born a baby. He was born a ball of flesh, and they thought he was a Demon. Until the flesh ball was cut and out came a new three old baby boy! But even then Nezha was the one to give his life for his family after he ripped out Ao Bing's spine, and his entire village was in danger of being drowned, he took his own life. But while his mother Madam Yin made a temple for Nezha that was worshipped, King Li found out about it and burned it because he was still upset at Nezha for putting them at odds with the heavens in the first place. When Nezha was brought back to life he did a "Nezha will remember that for later" and certainly didn't forget that his father burnt his temple down. Nezha went to confront his father and fight him but Muzha stood in his father's place as King Li ran away. And Nezha did end up accidentally killing Muzha hi throwing a gold brick at him… he came out fine! I think... still need to read up. I mean he’s alive now, so you know probably got better. The family relationships are very strange in this. King li have two kids that got dead and both are traumatized and very good at fighting

#anon ask #jttw #journey to the west #xiyouji #Investiture of the Gods #Fengshen Yanyi #li nezha #nezha #li muzha #muzha #jinzha #li jinzha #ask