Saiyuki AU fic of crack
May. 20th, 2007 12:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
new_kateI believe someone doth wanted a Saiyuki AU fic about a house of ill repute? Pure crack, heavy on the genderswitch, hardly R, 2200 words.
Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hibem
He would walk past that door just like he passed every single establishment on the street: smiling serenely at the half-naked girls trying to pull him inside, gently shaking their hands off his sleeves. This building, however, had neither girls nor boys waiting on the porch to drag in the passers-by. The tightly shut door had a small engraved brass plaque on it, and he paused in front of it, curious, trying to discern the letters in the dark.
The door flew open with a sharp crack, and a small blond girl appeared in the doorway. She huffed, blowing a long silky fringe off her nose, and pulled out a man in a business suit. He looked half-conscious, struggling weakly, clutching at his tie which she had wrapped around her slender hand. Even though he was hardly resisting, the ease with which she hauled him around was certainly impressive.
“If I see you again,” she said, depositing him in a filthy puddle by the steps. “I’ll cut your dick off and sell it to a pie shop. Move it, asshole, there is no loitering here.”
He chuckled, and she whirled on him, narrowing her cold bluish eyes suspiciously.
“What are you looking at, perv?”
“Now, child, you should show more respect,” he said humbly, adjusting his dog collar. “I’m a man of the cloth, you know.”
“Well then, there is nothing for you here, father. All our girls are of legal age. Bummer, huh?”
“You have a lot of anger,” he said softly. “I wish we could talk. It would do you a lot of good.”
“I’m busy,” she barked and turned back to the door. He moved to block her retreat and heard her snarl a little, deep in her throat.
“I could buy your time, if it’s for the good cause. How much are you, child?”
“The fuck? Which part of the my security uniform looks like a kinky outfit? I’m a bouncer, not a fucking whore! Why do I keep getting this shit from you people?”
She wore a sleek black tuxedo, a little baggy around the hips for his taste, but on a body like hers anything would look obscenely good. He muttered a half-hearted apology, staring down her cleavage.
“Hey,” she said with a nasty little smile. “I think I know someone who really needs some spiritual guidance. Come with me.”
The inside of the club was submerged in comfortable shadow, apart from the centre stage. He expected to see a couple of topless girls on ridiculous heels gyrating slowly against the poles, but instead there was just one, in a tiny golden bikini, barefoot. She seemed to be still in her teens, and her compact build and choppy haircut made her look even younger. As he followed his guide deeper into the room, the girl cartwheeled around the stage, executed a perfect handstand and launched herself at the pole with a loud whoop, just as the heavy techno beat of the music hit the crescendo.
“Dammit, she’s like a monkey or something,” murmured one of the spectators, downing a beer. The girl clasped the pole between her thighs and let the momentum carry her around for a several full turns, hanging upside-down and swinging her arms happily. Her small breasts were firm and round under the flimsy fabric, sticking upwards pertly.
“Yuup, she can swing from my branch any time,” laughed another one and choked on his drink under the bouncer’s glare.
“You better be admiring her athletic ability, dickwads,” she grumbled. “Here, man of cloth, there's your victim. Do your thing.”
The proffered victim was dealing blackjack at a small table, strategically placed so the players faced the stage. That distraction, combined with the sight the dealer herself presented, left poor suckers with no chance to keep their eyes on the deck.
She wore red, of course, but the banality of it was divinely inspired. It matched her beauty, too loud, too striking for anything less. Her lipstick was a different red, and the clash struck an unsettling, irresistible chord. Both shades were of blood: darker – as if spilling from a vein; brighter, spraying from an artery. When she turned to face him, her right eye stared at him boldly, challenging, measuring. The left one, half-hidden under a black veil draped over the side of her face, blinked softly, peering through the thick mesh, sweetly vulnerable.
“Hello, child,” he said. “May I talk to you?”
There it was, what the bouncer obviously had hoped for, a moment of nervousness, something close to fear clouding that gorgeous face, an instinctive guilt trip a sinner feels in the presence of a higher moral authority. It showed for less than a second, and then it was gone.
“Well, well,” she purred, leaning close to the bouncer till her bosom was threatening to spill out of its red silk prison. “Still trying to save me, baby? Want to make me an honest woman? I know you stay up all night counting my sins and fretting we won’t one day play harp on that cloud together…”
The bouncer took a half-hearted swing at her, and the dealer timed the ducking motion perfectly to end up almost in his lap.
“Forgive me, Father, for I am so clumsy,” she breathed in his face, anointing him with the scents of wine, tobacco and unsated lust. “Aren’t you worried you might not escape this place of filth with your virtue intact?”
“It’s all in our Lord’s hands,” he said humbly, supporting her with one gallant hand on her hip. “Will you be the one to tempt my resolve?”
“I’m not whoring,” she smiled, slinking back in her seat. “Just here to play cards. Can tempt you to fall prey to the sin of gambling.”
“Why aren’t you whoring, I wonder,” he brushed his fingertips against the edge of her veil and bit down a chuckle, watching her struggle not to recoil. “It can’t be because of your injury. You shouldn’t hide it, you know. A beauty like yours can not be tainted. Any mark will only make it more memorable.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be memorable,” she mumbled. Oh, he loved the tough types. So easy to make them crack, so soft underneath.
“You’re not abstaining because you detest this work. You’re drawn to this place. People wanting you, desiring you, willing to give up their hard-earned cash just to hold you, just to bask in your light… It seems like bliss. You want it.”
“No,” she said sharply. Already falling to pieces, and he barely started. It was too easy, almost boring, but he could do more here.
“You promised someone that you wouldn’t sell yourself. Unfair of them, to deny you the freedom of choice. They want you to wait for love, and they don’t care how lonely and cold it is, waiting for something that might never come.”
“You don’t know anything, Father,” she said brusquely, already almost shaking, scrambling frantically for a cigarette. “She – my sister – it happened to her. She married a great guy and they are very happy!”
“Your sister. She worked so you didn’t have to,” he sighed, shaking his head sadly. “Now she sold herself wholesale, hoping to secure your future, and here you are, a step away from the pit.”
“No, they love each other. They do. And I was only twelve, I couldn’t…”
“I think you knew even then you could be making more than her. A girl with your looks, and only twelve - that would sell so well. You chose to stay safe while she…”
The bouncer’s little hand squeezed his shoulder and hauled him out of the chair. That would leave bruises. At least, he hoped it would. He’d like a souvenir from this little adventure.
“Enough,” she grumbled. “The joke’s failed, now shut your mouth and get lost.”
“No, come on, it’s no big deal,” the dealer said, recovering admirably fast. “Let him have a drink on me.”
“Oh?” said a new voice coldly, unpleasantly close to his ear. “Are you treating an old friend? I’d love to be introduced!”
The dealer’s face softened, almost glowing, and he regretted having missed this opportunity. To play on this could be so much more fun than just worrying old scars. The girl was in love, in this tender, almost subconscious stage of affection that’s so vulnerable, so easy to make twisted and damaged…
The newcomer to the stage was a slender woman, pretty enough, but rather mousy in her bland business suit and thick-rimmed glasses, her dark hair slicked back in a tight bun. She carried a long wooden ruler, cracked on one end.
“Hey,” the dealer said, beaming with barely concealed puppy delight. “Taking a break?”
“I have to replace some damaged equipment,” the woman held up the ruler and poked at the crack with a gloved finger. “This is dangerous to work with.”
“Oh yeah, you have a ten o’clock…”
“Yes, he’s already here. But it will do him good to wait in the corner and think about his behaviour. Shall we all have a drink together?”
“Hey!” the dancer waved at them and performed an excited somersault. “I want a drink too! No wait, aw, I love this song, later!”
She skipped back to the pole, and then turned to the bouncer, tugging at the straps of her bikini top.
“Can I take this off yet? I’m so hot and it chafes!”
“Not till you make five hundred in tips,” said the bouncer morbidly. A good dozen of hands shot up right away, waving crumpled notes in the air.
“We have a situation here,” said the dealer, still smiling widely at the dark-haired woman, scooting over to make a place for them to sit side-by-side. “We really can’t let the priest escape undefiled! Honour of the house is at stake!”
The woman gave him a cold levelled stare. She had beautiful green eyes, but her glance almost made him shiver. Not in a good way.
“I’d love to give this gentleman a good session,” she said. “Flagellation is a well-renowned meditative practice. It might help with his spiritual quest. Besides, something suggests this gentleman struggles with the concept of humility. I could help with that as well.”
“I must respectfully decline,” he droned, lowering his eyes. Still he couldn’t resist imagining the sting of wooden ruler against his skin, her voice, hoarse and breathless with exertion, commanding him to keep still. That could’ve been nice. That might break the tedium.
“I don’t think you can tempt a random guy with spanking, that’s for connoisseurs. Hey, is Hazel free?”
“No,” said the bouncer. “She’s with the casino guy.”
“Again? He’s here every day like a zombie. How does she do it?”
“Voodoo?” suggested the mistress. “She is from the Louisiana, you know.”
“Kamille?”
“Still having a fit over that guy breaking her favourite bead necklace. Though let me try,” the bouncer squinted at him, pondering. “This is exactly her kind of ugly, I think, this will cheer her up.”
“Oh, I’ll cover this one, girls,” said another woman, approaching them gracefully in a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke.
She wasn’t young. Older than him by quite a lot, probably. Yet…
Her eyes were blue and very clear, serene and alert at the same time. She looked like she’d seen and tasted everything, and it still filled her with the fresh wonder every moment, every second of her life. There were wrinkles in the corners of her mouth, the kind that form from too many smiles. She was smiling now, and the wrinkles didn’t mar her face, were just deepening that smile, making it all the more real and knowing.
“But, no, no,” the bouncer stuttered. “You can’t – you’re the boss, you have to run the place, we need you here!”
“You can look after the place for an hour or so. I have every confidence in you.”
She handed her pipe to the bouncer, took his hand and pulled him gently towards the stairs, and he went, weightless, dizzy, stepping blindly. It felt like sleepwalking, having no will of his own, no desires but to be seen by these eyes, to be really noticed. Somehow, that was the most important thing that he ever had to achieve.
“Are you really a priest?” she asked, huskily and sweetly, smiling just for him.
“I think you can tell.”
“Mm. Yes.”
“Are you really a woman?”
“Oh. No. I didn’t think it made a difference to you.”
“I was only wondering if the breasts are real.”
“No, it’s only padding, to make the dress fit,” the smile turned dreamy, indulgent. “I like dresses. They are pretty, don’t you think? Bright colours, soft fabrics, pleasantly breezy around man’s physique. Much healthier than trousers.”
“Is the hair real?” he asked, daringly touching the thick long braid, once golden brown, now streaked with grey. He wanted it to be real. He wanted to see it loose.
“Oh yes.”
And then they were in a room which he couldn’t bring into focus, and that hair was tumbling down onto his upturned face, and a hard naked body was pressing him into covers. He felt himself shaking, overheated, overeager, unable to act.
“What do you want?” the question was soft, curious, casual.
“I don’t know,” he panted, desperate, filled with a strange vague hope, he couldn’t tell what for. “I don’t know. Can you tell me what I want?”
“I can’t work miracles,” the man above him sighed, stroking his face with unexpected gentleness, and kissed him.
And of course, that wasn’t a miracle by any count, but somehow it felt close enough.
Betaed by
hibemHe would walk past that door just like he passed every single establishment on the street: smiling serenely at the half-naked girls trying to pull him inside, gently shaking their hands off his sleeves. This building, however, had neither girls nor boys waiting on the porch to drag in the passers-by. The tightly shut door had a small engraved brass plaque on it, and he paused in front of it, curious, trying to discern the letters in the dark.
The door flew open with a sharp crack, and a small blond girl appeared in the doorway. She huffed, blowing a long silky fringe off her nose, and pulled out a man in a business suit. He looked half-conscious, struggling weakly, clutching at his tie which she had wrapped around her slender hand. Even though he was hardly resisting, the ease with which she hauled him around was certainly impressive.
“If I see you again,” she said, depositing him in a filthy puddle by the steps. “I’ll cut your dick off and sell it to a pie shop. Move it, asshole, there is no loitering here.”
He chuckled, and she whirled on him, narrowing her cold bluish eyes suspiciously.
“What are you looking at, perv?”
“Now, child, you should show more respect,” he said humbly, adjusting his dog collar. “I’m a man of the cloth, you know.”
“Well then, there is nothing for you here, father. All our girls are of legal age. Bummer, huh?”
“You have a lot of anger,” he said softly. “I wish we could talk. It would do you a lot of good.”
“I’m busy,” she barked and turned back to the door. He moved to block her retreat and heard her snarl a little, deep in her throat.
“I could buy your time, if it’s for the good cause. How much are you, child?”
“The fuck? Which part of the my security uniform looks like a kinky outfit? I’m a bouncer, not a fucking whore! Why do I keep getting this shit from you people?”
She wore a sleek black tuxedo, a little baggy around the hips for his taste, but on a body like hers anything would look obscenely good. He muttered a half-hearted apology, staring down her cleavage.
“Hey,” she said with a nasty little smile. “I think I know someone who really needs some spiritual guidance. Come with me.”
The inside of the club was submerged in comfortable shadow, apart from the centre stage. He expected to see a couple of topless girls on ridiculous heels gyrating slowly against the poles, but instead there was just one, in a tiny golden bikini, barefoot. She seemed to be still in her teens, and her compact build and choppy haircut made her look even younger. As he followed his guide deeper into the room, the girl cartwheeled around the stage, executed a perfect handstand and launched herself at the pole with a loud whoop, just as the heavy techno beat of the music hit the crescendo.
“Dammit, she’s like a monkey or something,” murmured one of the spectators, downing a beer. The girl clasped the pole between her thighs and let the momentum carry her around for a several full turns, hanging upside-down and swinging her arms happily. Her small breasts were firm and round under the flimsy fabric, sticking upwards pertly.
“Yuup, she can swing from my branch any time,” laughed another one and choked on his drink under the bouncer’s glare.
“You better be admiring her athletic ability, dickwads,” she grumbled. “Here, man of cloth, there's your victim. Do your thing.”
The proffered victim was dealing blackjack at a small table, strategically placed so the players faced the stage. That distraction, combined with the sight the dealer herself presented, left poor suckers with no chance to keep their eyes on the deck.
She wore red, of course, but the banality of it was divinely inspired. It matched her beauty, too loud, too striking for anything less. Her lipstick was a different red, and the clash struck an unsettling, irresistible chord. Both shades were of blood: darker – as if spilling from a vein; brighter, spraying from an artery. When she turned to face him, her right eye stared at him boldly, challenging, measuring. The left one, half-hidden under a black veil draped over the side of her face, blinked softly, peering through the thick mesh, sweetly vulnerable.
“Hello, child,” he said. “May I talk to you?”
There it was, what the bouncer obviously had hoped for, a moment of nervousness, something close to fear clouding that gorgeous face, an instinctive guilt trip a sinner feels in the presence of a higher moral authority. It showed for less than a second, and then it was gone.
“Well, well,” she purred, leaning close to the bouncer till her bosom was threatening to spill out of its red silk prison. “Still trying to save me, baby? Want to make me an honest woman? I know you stay up all night counting my sins and fretting we won’t one day play harp on that cloud together…”
The bouncer took a half-hearted swing at her, and the dealer timed the ducking motion perfectly to end up almost in his lap.
“Forgive me, Father, for I am so clumsy,” she breathed in his face, anointing him with the scents of wine, tobacco and unsated lust. “Aren’t you worried you might not escape this place of filth with your virtue intact?”
“It’s all in our Lord’s hands,” he said humbly, supporting her with one gallant hand on her hip. “Will you be the one to tempt my resolve?”
“I’m not whoring,” she smiled, slinking back in her seat. “Just here to play cards. Can tempt you to fall prey to the sin of gambling.”
“Why aren’t you whoring, I wonder,” he brushed his fingertips against the edge of her veil and bit down a chuckle, watching her struggle not to recoil. “It can’t be because of your injury. You shouldn’t hide it, you know. A beauty like yours can not be tainted. Any mark will only make it more memorable.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be memorable,” she mumbled. Oh, he loved the tough types. So easy to make them crack, so soft underneath.
“You’re not abstaining because you detest this work. You’re drawn to this place. People wanting you, desiring you, willing to give up their hard-earned cash just to hold you, just to bask in your light… It seems like bliss. You want it.”
“No,” she said sharply. Already falling to pieces, and he barely started. It was too easy, almost boring, but he could do more here.
“You promised someone that you wouldn’t sell yourself. Unfair of them, to deny you the freedom of choice. They want you to wait for love, and they don’t care how lonely and cold it is, waiting for something that might never come.”
“You don’t know anything, Father,” she said brusquely, already almost shaking, scrambling frantically for a cigarette. “She – my sister – it happened to her. She married a great guy and they are very happy!”
“Your sister. She worked so you didn’t have to,” he sighed, shaking his head sadly. “Now she sold herself wholesale, hoping to secure your future, and here you are, a step away from the pit.”
“No, they love each other. They do. And I was only twelve, I couldn’t…”
“I think you knew even then you could be making more than her. A girl with your looks, and only twelve - that would sell so well. You chose to stay safe while she…”
The bouncer’s little hand squeezed his shoulder and hauled him out of the chair. That would leave bruises. At least, he hoped it would. He’d like a souvenir from this little adventure.
“Enough,” she grumbled. “The joke’s failed, now shut your mouth and get lost.”
“No, come on, it’s no big deal,” the dealer said, recovering admirably fast. “Let him have a drink on me.”
“Oh?” said a new voice coldly, unpleasantly close to his ear. “Are you treating an old friend? I’d love to be introduced!”
The dealer’s face softened, almost glowing, and he regretted having missed this opportunity. To play on this could be so much more fun than just worrying old scars. The girl was in love, in this tender, almost subconscious stage of affection that’s so vulnerable, so easy to make twisted and damaged…
The newcomer to the stage was a slender woman, pretty enough, but rather mousy in her bland business suit and thick-rimmed glasses, her dark hair slicked back in a tight bun. She carried a long wooden ruler, cracked on one end.
“Hey,” the dealer said, beaming with barely concealed puppy delight. “Taking a break?”
“I have to replace some damaged equipment,” the woman held up the ruler and poked at the crack with a gloved finger. “This is dangerous to work with.”
“Oh yeah, you have a ten o’clock…”
“Yes, he’s already here. But it will do him good to wait in the corner and think about his behaviour. Shall we all have a drink together?”
“Hey!” the dancer waved at them and performed an excited somersault. “I want a drink too! No wait, aw, I love this song, later!”
She skipped back to the pole, and then turned to the bouncer, tugging at the straps of her bikini top.
“Can I take this off yet? I’m so hot and it chafes!”
“Not till you make five hundred in tips,” said the bouncer morbidly. A good dozen of hands shot up right away, waving crumpled notes in the air.
“We have a situation here,” said the dealer, still smiling widely at the dark-haired woman, scooting over to make a place for them to sit side-by-side. “We really can’t let the priest escape undefiled! Honour of the house is at stake!”
The woman gave him a cold levelled stare. She had beautiful green eyes, but her glance almost made him shiver. Not in a good way.
“I’d love to give this gentleman a good session,” she said. “Flagellation is a well-renowned meditative practice. It might help with his spiritual quest. Besides, something suggests this gentleman struggles with the concept of humility. I could help with that as well.”
“I must respectfully decline,” he droned, lowering his eyes. Still he couldn’t resist imagining the sting of wooden ruler against his skin, her voice, hoarse and breathless with exertion, commanding him to keep still. That could’ve been nice. That might break the tedium.
“I don’t think you can tempt a random guy with spanking, that’s for connoisseurs. Hey, is Hazel free?”
“No,” said the bouncer. “She’s with the casino guy.”
“Again? He’s here every day like a zombie. How does she do it?”
“Voodoo?” suggested the mistress. “She is from the Louisiana, you know.”
“Kamille?”
“Still having a fit over that guy breaking her favourite bead necklace. Though let me try,” the bouncer squinted at him, pondering. “This is exactly her kind of ugly, I think, this will cheer her up.”
“Oh, I’ll cover this one, girls,” said another woman, approaching them gracefully in a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke.
She wasn’t young. Older than him by quite a lot, probably. Yet…
Her eyes were blue and very clear, serene and alert at the same time. She looked like she’d seen and tasted everything, and it still filled her with the fresh wonder every moment, every second of her life. There were wrinkles in the corners of her mouth, the kind that form from too many smiles. She was smiling now, and the wrinkles didn’t mar her face, were just deepening that smile, making it all the more real and knowing.
“But, no, no,” the bouncer stuttered. “You can’t – you’re the boss, you have to run the place, we need you here!”
“You can look after the place for an hour or so. I have every confidence in you.”
She handed her pipe to the bouncer, took his hand and pulled him gently towards the stairs, and he went, weightless, dizzy, stepping blindly. It felt like sleepwalking, having no will of his own, no desires but to be seen by these eyes, to be really noticed. Somehow, that was the most important thing that he ever had to achieve.
“Are you really a priest?” she asked, huskily and sweetly, smiling just for him.
“I think you can tell.”
“Mm. Yes.”
“Are you really a woman?”
“Oh. No. I didn’t think it made a difference to you.”
“I was only wondering if the breasts are real.”
“No, it’s only padding, to make the dress fit,” the smile turned dreamy, indulgent. “I like dresses. They are pretty, don’t you think? Bright colours, soft fabrics, pleasantly breezy around man’s physique. Much healthier than trousers.”
“Is the hair real?” he asked, daringly touching the thick long braid, once golden brown, now streaked with grey. He wanted it to be real. He wanted to see it loose.
“Oh yes.”
And then they were in a room which he couldn’t bring into focus, and that hair was tumbling down onto his upturned face, and a hard naked body was pressing him into covers. He felt himself shaking, overheated, overeager, unable to act.
“What do you want?” the question was soft, curious, casual.
“I don’t know,” he panted, desperate, filled with a strange vague hope, he couldn’t tell what for. “I don’t know. Can you tell me what I want?”
“I can’t work miracles,” the man above him sighed, stroking his face with unexpected gentleness, and kissed him.
And of course, that wasn’t a miracle by any count, but somehow it felt close enough.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-05-20 12:09 am (UTC)But it will do him good to wait in the corner and think about his behaviour.
I love Hakkai the Punisher! Also the details in the club, like the two colours of red that Gojyo is wearing. Lovely.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 03:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-20 12:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 03:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-20 01:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 03:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-20 02:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 03:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-20 02:48 am (UTC)“Not till you make five hundred in tips,” said the bouncer morbidly. A good dozen of hands shot up right away, waving crumpled notes in the air.
Hee! Sanzo's motivation technique is brilliant, really.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 03:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-20 03:41 am (UTC)She carried a long wooden ruler, cracked on one end.
Of course she does.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 03:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-20 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 03:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-20 06:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 03:56 pm (UTC)...I swear I'm not making it up.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-20 10:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 03:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 03:59 pm (UTC)*dances*
Thank youuuu!!
no subject
Date: 2007-06-02 02:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-11 04:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-21 04:39 am (UTC)But in the end, I feel like the whole thing - genderswitch, seedy dive and all - was actually to set up that gorgeous
Nii-changinglife changing moment when Nii meets Komyou. I think the setting for it is perfect, because underneath hiscooloily exterior, Nii is soiled, desperate, utterly alone and crying out to be saved (so his persona as a priest was beyond perfect).Soooo good! You make me want to write
more!no subject
Date: 2007-06-21 09:54 am (UTC)well, I'm french, so I can't appreciate this fic like the others. but I'm pretty sure your fic is great.
I enjoying, but not toatlly. too bad.
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Date: 2007-07-23 04:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-31 07:03 pm (UTC)Wonderful stuff!
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Date: 2011-06-04 05:11 pm (UTC)Thank you for sharing this. It is lovely.
no subject
Date: 2011-06-17 09:37 pm (UTC)