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Glam Kink Meme Post #1

The Glam Kink Meme Post #1 is now open.

Have fun prompting, writing, reading, and feedbacking. :)

ETA: All prompts are listed here.

ETA2: All filled prompts are archived here.

ETA3 This post is now CLOSED to new prompts.

Glam Kink Flat View
Glam Kink Regular View



Oct. 7th, 2010 08:53 am (UTC)
Want Your Hex 1/??
It starts like any other show.

Adam gets to the meet and greet a little late—most of the restaurants in this part of town are pretty much hidden, and if not for a local on his Twitter feed who very kindly gave him directions to a little French place that looks more like a bar than a restaurant from the outside, he'd probably still be wandering between 6th and 12th Street, trying to find something that isn't McDonald's. Everything is close together, though, the way things are in cities that were built long before Ford went into business, and it's a fast walk from the restaurant to the back door of the theatre.

Neil is ready to take Adam's head off, but Adam manages to quiet him down by pointing out that five minutes is not the end of the world, if it comes down to that he can always stop at two colours of eye shadow, and Neil calms enough to let people in.

It's the usual motley crew, couples and singles and a couple of little kids, and one guy in his early twenties who won't quite look Adam in the eye and is at pains to make sure Adam knows the album he's signing is for the guy's sister. Adam doesn't usually offer hugs first, but he feels compelled to give the kid one because even though he's never been in the closet, he definitely recognises the look. The guy hugs back, and then finally looks at him and offers Adam a fantastic smile that might have a little bit of another kind of offer in it. Adam won't take him up on it—it's just not his style—but he still kind of hopes he won't be the only one the guy ever makes it to. Tommy ran the town through a search engine before they got here, and Adam knows this place, too, is finally starting to open its eyes and arms to the rest of the human community it's been shunning, if they can let go of their fear.

He takes a picture with an old married couple, and then Neil waves to get his attention.

“Some chick brought you something,” he mutters, obviously trying to keep his voice down, and Adam ducks his head a little in response. Neil has a great poker face; Adam doesn't.

“Bad?” Adam asks. The worst he's gotten in the past three years was screamed at by Westboro and he doesn't think anybody really feels like trying something more, but he'd rather not find out firsthand if he's wrong.

“I don't know, but if you're taking it I want to be in here when you open it,” Neil answers. “Don't wait until later.”

Adam nods; he's gotten used to trusting Neil's judgement, and when he takes the box from a hand with some really incredible black and silver nails (which, she tells him, are something called a two-tone French manicure, and Adam makes a mental note to ask Sutan about that) Neil is hovering without appearing to hover, the tension in the energy around him practically palpable.

There's nothing in the box but a piece of cotton batting surrounding something small and hard, and as Adam folds it back he feels Neil relax. Then he grins, charmed by the little silver Aquarius pendant in the box.

“Oh, this is cool!” he says, lifting it out to look at it. There's a pair of tiny, dark-red stones set between the lines, and they sparkle where the light hits them. “Garnet, right?”

The girl nods, the “yeah” she gives him sounding almost embarrassed. “I was taking an Advanced Casting class this last semester and we had to make something we'd like to see in a real jewelry store . . . “ she explains, flushing underneath what Adam thinks is a totally sick painted-on Mardi Gras-type mask.

“It's awesome! Thank you so much!” he tells her, already wondering if the chain is the kind that tangles too easily to be layered in with a bunch of others that have to be quickly changed. “You made this?”

The girl nods again, and this time she smiles. “I'm an Aquarius too but I really wanted you to have it,” she says, brushing back heavily-teased hair. Adam definitely approves of her sense of style. “I was following your blog—“ Adam resists the urge to tell her the blog isn't exactly his, more like a blog everyone on the tour shares that he posts in sometimes—“and I saw you talking about sign properties and things . . . “

“Yeah, garnets are really strong protection,” Adam fills in. Neil might think she's kooky, but then again, Neil thinks Adam is kooky, so not a whole lot of surprise there.
Oct. 7th, 2010 08:59 am (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex 1/??

Also, omg, astrology and jewelry are clearly the way to Adam's heart. :D
Oct. 7th, 2010 09:26 am (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex 1/??

I'm really, really intrigued, and I love the start of stories, when you're trying to envision what will happen next. Adam meeting the closeted boy was really sweet, and his interaction with the girl makes me want to draw hearts all over the scene.

Oct. 7th, 2010 09:36 am (UTC)
Want Your Hex 2/??
He thanks her again and signs her magazine (Cosmopolitan, and how the fuck he ever got onto the cover of Cosmo is still beyond him, although he remembers the interview, mostly because he was pleasantly surprised by the way the interviewer asked him the usual Cosmo what-do-you-look-for-in-a-guy questions pretty much the same way Adam imagines they'd be asked of a woman), and after a picture she's on her way, beaming. Adam shows Neil the pendant.

“No poison gas or red buttons,” he says, offering up the most ridiculous grin he can summon, before Neil rolls his eyes.

“It could have been something really dangerous, Adam,” Neil points out. “After that Westboro thing in Missouri—“

“They're not going to risk somebody touching one of the unclean ones,” Adam answers, rolling his eyes. “God forbid one of them get a little glitter on their clothes. Is there anybody else out there?”

“Some weird blonde guy in too much makeup who wants to know if he can borrow your jacket because his got left in Virginia. I'm not sure I should let him in.”

Adam snickers and waves a hand at Tommy, standing out in the hall waiting for the meet-and-greeters to be gone. “Knock yourself out,” he calls, and Tommy nods and disappears.

“Speaking of getting shit on your clothes, you'd better watch out if he's taking your normal jacket, it'll come back with McDonald's fumes on it,” Neil remarks. “If he's in there too long you might even be able to smell fries in your sleeves.”

Adam flips him off and heads for the dressing room (this place has nice ones, too—they're new, he can tell), where Sutan flips on some instrumental stuff and tells Adam to sit down and close his eyes. Adam sits, then remembers the little pendant in his hand and holds it up.

“Oh, nice,” Sutan comments. “Gift?”

“Yeah. I thought I might wear it tonight, it's pretty sick,” Adam says. Sutan takes it from his hand and brushes at it.

“Something sticking,” Sutan says, then fastens it around Adam's neck. “Looks great. Now close your eyes, I'm using glue here.”

Adam complies, listening to the instrumental from the iPod on the makeup table and letting the sound wash over him while he goes over blocking in his mind and Sutan does unspeakable things to his face with a kohl stick.

“Design tonight?” Sutan asks. Adam waits until the pencil's away from his eyes to answer.

“Sure. I saw the line out there. People are going nuts with the glitter. It's a good night to turn the glam up to eleven.”

“You bring that out in people,” Sutan comments, drawing a design off Adam's eye. “And you walked right out to get food and nobody recognised you.”

“Neil got me a security jacket,” Adam answers. “Tommy's borrowing mine because it's about fifty sizes too big on him.”

“You two are crazy,” Sutan says, and then dusts Adam's face with setting powder. “You're ready. You might want to call Tommy and tell him if he's not back in ten minutes I'm—“

Tommy slouches in, practically swimming in Adam's old jacket, before Sutan can finish. Adam ducks into his own dressing room (one that's actually just his, unlike some of the venues they've been in; he doesn't mind sharing if he has to, but being able to undress and dress in peace is absolute heaven) so he can change and warm up before he can get caught in Sutan's inevitable lecture on Walking Out Less Than An Hour Before Show.

Adam runs into the new keyboardist in the wings; Cam was with them for the first part of this tour, but now they have Dawnie, who's got a great sound and makes Tommy look big. He gives her a hug and a kiss on both cheeks—Glamily traditions for wishing good luck and good show are way better than gathering in greenroom to yell obscenities to ward off bad luck, Adam thinks—and then stands up so Mike can wire him into the handsless mic he's using this time around.

“Ready?” he mutters to her, glancing way far across the stage where he can just barely see Tommy and Isaac hanging out in the wings opposite. She nods.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” she says, beneath the pounding bass of Justin Timberlake, and then at a cue the lights flash and Adam and the band spill out onto the stage.
Oct. 7th, 2010 11:05 am (UTC)
Want Your Hex 3/??
It's all fine until about twenty minutes into the show—all routine, exciting and sexy and fun and a cheeky reference to sex toys that Adam didn't understand until Brooke explained it to him (and then they laughed til they cried in the back of the bus, because who the hell decided the lyric “my little Venus Butterfly” made sense for a man, even a gay one, to be singing?). Then Tommy ramps up the bass, and Adam strides across the stage, belting out the opening lyrics to “Fever” before sidling up behind Tommy and grabbing the neck of the bass from behind.

It's a tricky bit of choreography—one about a minute long that took more time than the entire Idol medley near the end of the show—because Adam doesn't actually play bass, and when Tommy sets his fingers on the right chord it has to look like Adam did it without help and be completed in the short space between “could you be m-mine?” and “we'll never get too far” so Tommy can lean back and take his hands off the bass.

It starts when Tommy puts his hand on the back of Adam's neck (which the fangirls keep hoping is going to turn into an impromptu makeout session—Adam can get around the Internet as well as anybody else, he's read some of what some fans think he and the band get up to after, and even during, shows); one second it's just Tommy's hand on the back of his neck and Adam trying like hell to not fuck up a progression. Then Adam feels not guitar strings but skin under his fingers, and nearly drops the bass.

It doesn't end when Tommy takes the bass back at the end of the verse—instead Adam feels guitar strings again, and he has a second between verses to wonder if there's some kind of brain version of Internet stream lag. Maybe, he thinks, it's just from pressing the strings too hard—his fingers went numb for a second, and now they're catching back up.

At least, that's what he thinks until he feels the brush of long hair against his chin. Then he has to fight to not completely flub the lyrics, because then there's a hand on his face that he can't see, brushing back hair he doesn't have. If he'd smoked anytime recently he'd call it some kind of psychedelic feedback, but it's been a couple of months, and this is just weird, this is the press of something against his leg when nothing's there and guitar strings under his fingers when a quick glance is enough to tell him the lines where he was pressing are already gone and, during a break between songs when he's offstage swapping costumes, something wet against his lips when he's not drinking anything.

They finish out the night with something off the new album, a song called “2 AM” that he wrote during Glam Nation one night when he couldn't sleep, and Adam's barely offstage before he's in a chair with Neil and Dawnie fussing over him while Brooke presses a water bottle into his hand. Neil's checking his pupils, of course, and Adam has a sudden cold fear that he passed out onstage and hallucinated the show. It's got to be pretty damned bad before Neil pesters. He glances up at Dawnie, who sees him questioning her without asking a word and takes his hand.

“I don't think anybody in the audience noticed, but Adam, sweetheart, you've got to get more sleep, I thought you were going to pass out—“

“I'm fine,” he says, and it's true, he doesn't feel anything out of the ordinary right now. He's cool. Neil gets about an inch from his face and examines his eyes more closely.

“You're not drunk?” he asks, and Adam rolls his eyes.

“I'd like to not bomb my second tour by being drunk onstage, Neil,” Adam points out. “I should go sign.” Neil frowns.

“Ten minutes,” he says. “And then I want you to get your ass to the hotel, shower, and sleep.” He glances around and nods at someone Adam can't see. “Tommy. Go with him and make sure he goes, would you? I'll get the set broken.”

Tommy nods and holds out a hand to pull Adam to his feet. He stands up, wishing he could explain to Neil that it was just some kind of weird mini-hallucination, but then he'd have to explain why he was hallucinating and that he's just not up to.

Except then Tommy puts a hand on Adam's arm and Adam feels an arm under his own open hand, and he has the horrible feeling it wasn't just a hallucination.
Oct. 7th, 2010 01:15 pm (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex 3/??
Oh god this is awesome.

More soon, yes? :D
Oct. 7th, 2010 07:01 pm (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex 3/??
noooooooo you can't stop there.

omg my ANTICIPATION for the next parts is a little crazy ♥
Oct. 8th, 2010 12:45 am (UTC)
Want Your Hex 4/??
Adam's not exhausted, exactly, but he still feels drained by the time Tommy shepherds him to the hotel, and when he drags himself into the shower he doesn't even bother taking off most of his jewelry—he'll be putting it back on in the morning anyway, it's not like one night on him instead of on the nightstand is going to kill it. Instead he tries to scrub his hair out as fast as he can, cursing at it for being so thick and wondering if maybe he should lay off the Red Bull if this is how it's going to make him crash. Finally he gives up on getting all the glitter out—he can always shower again in the morning—and grabs a washcloth to clean the last of the glue and foundation off his face, swiping his hair back from his forehead so he can—

Feel a hand that isn't his in a place where his hands definitely aren't.

For a second Adam forgets to breathe. More than a second, actually, because when he does take a breath in it all comes in a giant whoosh and he realises he's seeing spots.

It's a dream, he decides. It's a dream, I'm already sleeping, or maybe I really did conk out backstage . . . this venue has some wicked couches in the dressing room. But being a dream doesn't explain how he can still feel water trickling down his face from his hair and pounding against his back from the shower head, the terry of the washcloth in his hand rough against his skin, and something he doesn't have moving against a hand that—he reaches down just to check—no, isn't between his legs. If this were a dream, Adam thinks, he'd at least like someone cute to go with all this weird, because he also feels like he's almost ready to come and he's not even hard.

He sags against the wall of the shower and moans through an orgasm he doesn't actually have, washcloth falling out of his hand to land at the bottom of the tub. It's been years since Adam's come hard enough to shake, but that's what he's doing now, sinking down into the tub before his legs can go right out from under him, and now he's hard, staring bewildered down at himself and trying in a very absent way to not swallow the water that's still pounding down on him. He's almost ready to pull himself out of the tub and call Neil when he realises two things at once: Neil would never believe him, and he does not want to be explaining to some ER doctor that his medical complaint is feeling someone who's not there jerking him off in a locked hotel room. He finally reaches out and paws at the spigot handle until it turns off, leaving him sitting wet and still panting at the bottom of the shower, trying to figure out what the hell just happened to him.

It wasn't him: that's the first conclusion Adam comes to. His hands were in his hair trying to find and rinse out the last of his conditioner, nowhere near his cock. More importantly (to Adam, at least), he's gotten himself off often enough to know what it feels like, and that wasn't it. It occurs to him as he sits in the tub with water streaming down his back that the sensation in his hands wasn't like stroking someone off at all—more like running his hand down one of those funky fabric ropes some venues use to herd people into lines. The touch was skin on skin, but the actual sensation had that same kind of looseness—not a naked erection, but something covered, and intense enough to leave him shaking at the bottom of the tub like he's still 14 and figuring out that cock and balls are not the only good places you can touch.

Finally he decides it doesn't matter—he's tired, he's wet, he has another show tomorrow (because apparently the venue sold out in under ten minutes, and why they didn't just move it to the local arena is beyond him, but they didn't, so two shows it is), and mysteries, like the last clinging bits of glitter in his hair, can wait until morning. And so he drags himself out of the tub, ignoring the hardon that's slowly deciding it's not getting any further attention and going away, towelling his hair (and not using a hair dryer on it, but right now he really doesn't care) and collapsing into his bed without even bothering to pull anything on (something else he may regret, but he's taking it in good faith that the sheets were bleached before they hit the bed), and five minutes later he's asleep.
Oct. 8th, 2010 01:01 am (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex 4/??
YUMMY!!!!!!! *bows to your prowess*
Oct. 8th, 2010 01:37 am (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex 4/??
OHH MY GODDDDDDDDDD!!! Need More!!! *F5F5F5F5* *grabbyhands*
Oct. 8th, 2010 04:17 am (UTC)
Want Your Hex: Author's Note
I live in a central city Adam's visited. The layout of the city as described, along with the weather (bizarre though it is), are accurate to one of his northeast tour stops. Just a note for anyone who thinks I'm making this shit up: last year brought us (accumulated) snow on 15 October, and we've been known to have drops in temperature from 72 to 29 in the course of six hours under some circumstances. Crazy, but true.

Oct. 8th, 2010 04:18 am (UTC)
Want Your Hex: 5/??
He doesn't think he's knocking.

He can feel wood under his fingers, but—

“Adam! Yo!”

Adam rolls over, and it's still dark outside but that had to be one hell of a sleep, because even though it's only—he glances at the clock on the nightstand—five in the morning, he feels like he slept all night and most of the day. He feels something press against his fingers, and then his phone beeps.

its tommy open up if ur awake would u?

Adam glances again at the clock and the sky outside. Then he swings his legs off the bed and sends a reply.


It doesn't take him even that long to locate a pair of bottoms and pull them on, and finally he pads to the door and opens it. Tommy's in the hall dancing like he's either got to piss or just magically turned back time to ten years old.

“You okay?” Adam asks, trying to think of a reason Tommy would do this that doesn't involve an emergency and failing. Tommy nods as he slides past Adam and pulls open the curtains. Adam feels fabric slide over his fingers.

“Adam. Look.”

Adam complies; he doesn't understand how this is possible, but he thinks he knows what it is now. Then he sees what Tommy wants him to look at, and all thoughts of the fabric Adam feels in Tommy's hand are forgotten as he stares.

“But—it's October?” he finally manages. Tommy's shoulder presses against his arm as Tommy peers out around the curtain along with him.

“I know. Neil said last night there was a chance of snow, but . . . “

“I guess this is what he was talking about when he said 'snowbelt',” Adam murmurs, staring, transfixed. He was fourteen the first time he remembers seeing snow, and for the people who live here it might be no big deal (except for the people who are going to have to shovel in a couple of hours), but Adam's totally charmed by the idea of an October snowstorm. He looks at the park across the street, already so heavily dusted with snow that from this distance there's no grass to be seen, and leans over to speak into Tommy's ear—something about looking out by the light of a single streetlamp across a nearly-deserted street, just a couple of early workers walking through the swirling white flakes, suggests Adam whisper.

“You know, we could go out,” he suggests. “Nobody else is up.”

“I don't have a jacket,” Tommy points out, and oh yeah, they didn't have the chance to find somewhere here that sells them, Adam remembers. Then he glances at his suitcase.

“No problem. You've got a hoodie with you, don't you?” he asks, and Tommy nods. “Go grab it. I might have something you can toss on.”

Adam slides into the heaviest pair of jeans he owns while Tommy's gone, trying to ignore the feel of a doorknob that isn't his and fabric that isn't the kind he wears; somewhere down the hall, he knows, Tommy's going through his stuff, looking for the hoodie. Then there's a door handle in Adam's hand again, and he pokes his head out his own door so Tommy doesn't have to knock. Tommy slides in, and Adam hands him a sweatshirt with “GRAND FALLS FLAGSTAFF AZ” splashed across the front.

“It's from my mom,” he says, before Tommy can crack wise about Adam buying tourist sweatshirts. “It's actually pretty warm.”

Tommy pulls the sweatshirt over his head, and Adam feels it slide past Tommy's face, soft and (this he knows, although whatever weird experience it is he's having doesn't seem to extend to scent) still smelling of the patchouli Adam has zipped in his duffel bag. The sleeves fall comically all the way past Tommy's knees, the armholes too wide to even catch on his hands when he tries to shove them back up, and Adam reaches out to cuff them. His fingers brush Tommy's when he tucks the end of the sleeve into itself, and Adam feels the ghosts of his own fingers just behind his nails.

“Ready?” he asks, concentrating very hard on not blushing when a memory of last night flashes through his head and he realises suddenly whose hand wasn't on his cock while he was in the shower. Tommy nods and smiles, the kind of smile he almost never offers, and Adam feels his stomach do a slow flip while he shoves his hands into the nearest pair of gloves and grabs his keycard.

“Let's go,” he says.
Oct. 8th, 2010 04:54 am (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex: 5/??
O.O transfixed....need....more.....
Re: Want Your Hex: 5/?? - etharei - Oct. 8th, 2010 06:22 am (UTC) - Expand
Want Your Hex: 6/?? - (Anonymous) - Oct. 8th, 2010 08:42 am (UTC) - Expand
Want Your Hex: 7/?? - (Anonymous) - Oct. 8th, 2010 08:43 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 7/?? - etharei - Oct. 8th, 2010 09:06 am (UTC) - Expand
Want Your Hex: 8/?? - (Anonymous) - Oct. 8th, 2010 10:40 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 8/?? - etharei - Oct. 8th, 2010 11:23 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 8/?? - glamneko - Oct. 8th, 2010 08:25 pm (UTC) - Expand
Want Your Hex: 9/?? - (Anonymous) - Oct. 9th, 2010 09:51 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 9/?? - etharei - Oct. 9th, 2010 09:57 am (UTC) - Expand
Want Your Hex: 10/?? - (Anonymous) - Oct. 9th, 2010 10:56 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 10/?? - xxvikixx - Oct. 9th, 2010 11:09 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 10/?? - aislinntlc - Oct. 9th, 2010 12:10 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 10/?? - radiogaga33 - Oct. 9th, 2010 11:34 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 10/?? - etharei - Oct. 10th, 2010 02:29 am (UTC) - Expand
Want Your Hex: 11/?? - (Anonymous) - Oct. 10th, 2010 09:59 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 11/?? - etharei - Oct. 10th, 2010 10:42 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 11/?? - sulwen - Oct. 10th, 2010 11:16 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 11/?? - xxvikixx - Oct. 10th, 2010 11:17 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 11/?? - untamedfilly - Oct. 10th, 2010 03:33 pm (UTC) - Expand
Want Your Hex: 12/?? - (Anonymous) - Oct. 11th, 2010 02:48 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 12/?? - etharei - Oct. 11th, 2010 03:56 am (UTC) - Expand
Want Your Hex: 13/?? - (Anonymous) - Oct. 11th, 2010 07:18 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 13/?? - etharei - Oct. 11th, 2010 07:24 am (UTC) - Expand
Want Your Hex: 14/?? (but the end is in sight) - (Anonymous) - Oct. 11th, 2010 08:43 am (UTC) - Expand
Want Your Hex: 15/16 (<-- seriously?) - (Anonymous) - Oct. 11th, 2010 10:24 am (UTC) - Expand
Want Your Hex: 16/16 (<-- seriously?) - (Anonymous) - Oct. 11th, 2010 10:25 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 16/16 (&lt;-- seriously?) - 2db1234 - Oct. 11th, 2010 11:21 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 16/16 (<-- seriously?) - glamneko - Oct. 11th, 2010 03:35 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 16/16 (<-- seriously?) - medea_aries - Oct. 11th, 2010 06:52 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 16/16 (<-- seriously?) - etharei - Oct. 11th, 2010 08:59 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 16/16 (<-- seriously?) - aislinntlc - Oct. 11th, 2010 10:54 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 16/16 (<-- seriously?) - (Anonymous) - Oct. 18th, 2010 12:48 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 16/16 (<-- seriously?) - blueeye01 - Oct. 19th, 2010 12:44 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 16/16 (<-- seriously?) - charly2004 - Oct. 29th, 2010 06:45 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 16/16 (<-- seriously?) - fobsessed54 - Oct. 31st, 2010 01:53 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 16/16 (<-- seriously?) - wynkat1313 - Nov. 18th, 2010 10:14 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 16/16 (<-- seriously?) - aerynvala - Dec. 6th, 2010 04:45 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Want Your Hex: 10/?? - court1429 - Nov. 29th, 2010 07:35 pm (UTC) - Expand
Oct. 7th, 2010 02:46 pm (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex 1/??
*bows at your feet* I will give you anything you want... ILUSFM
Nov. 11th, 2010 07:35 am (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex 1/??
Good wine, a good woman, and the Soul Blazer trilogy for SNES? SWEET!


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