Half as much again
Jul. 15th, 2010 09:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maratonistaI feel shame... instead of writing post-apocalyptic fic, I ended up writing crack. Angsty crack. I don't even know what to classify this as... but we had kitten!Jensen, and sex pollen and all other variety of wonderful tropes, so why not kid!fic...
Yeah, this is me going back to 'shame' again.
Half as much again 1/?
Gen
R
The one where Jensen gets deaged, and the rest of the team quietly (or not so quietly) freak the fuck out.
Cougar had bad days.
Sometimes they were really bad.
Occasionally, they were really fucking bad.
And then sometimes they were so fucked up he had the urge to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger because he must have been a seriously evil sonovabitch in a previous life to deserve this shit.
It wasn’t often he saw Clay looking the same way.
Their fearless leader was, well…fearless. And even if he privately had no fucking clue what was happening, he always looked like everything was going according to some seriously fucked up plan.
Cougar wasn’t the only one that noticed something was wrong. As soon as Clay was up and out of the car Pooch had hotwired for them, the rest of the team were on their feet and headed in his direction.
“What happened?” Roque demanded, right about the time Pooch noticed they were one man down.
“Where the hell is Jensen?”
Cougar’s gaze narrowed in on the colonel. Clay looked freaked out and majorly bemused, but he didn’t look like someone had died. Cougar knew that Clay cared about them all – even Jensen, though he frequently denied it – enough to be devastated if any of them were kia.
Clay dragged a hand over his face then waved it in the direction of the car. “In the trunk.”
So it wouldn’t be the first time they’d threatened to lock Jensen in the trunk after a long trip. Pooch was usually the one who suggested it, leaving Clay to restore order. At most Jensen and Clay had been gone two hours, and it took even Jensen a hell of a lot longer than that to really piss the colonel off. Since they'd been working, Jensen would have kept his annoying tendencies to a minimum, at least until they had bust in and out of TecnoGené.
“Seriously? Man, I’d have killed to se that! Hey Jay, you comfy in there?” Pooch was delighted by the prospect and rapped on the lid of the trunk.
Cougar and Roque glared at Clay. None of them, least of all Jensen, liked small spaces.
“Exactly why is he in the trunk?”
“I need a fucking drink.” Was Clay’s answer. “Whiskey, vodka, fuck, I’ll take terps if we have any.”
It was three in the afternoon. Cougar and Roque shared a look. “Clay, why is Jensen in the trunk?” Roque repeated himself.
Clay shook his head. “Go see for yourself. Watch it though, he fucking bites.”
Pooch was the one to pop the lid of the trunk.
Roque was the one who got a foot – a small, bare, fucking tiny foot – in his nose. “Motherfuck! Jesus Christ, Jensen!”
Cougar peered over his shoulder, looked inside the trunk and fell back a step.
So it was one of those days, then.
Rough estimate put the kid – because there was no Jensen in the trunk, just a hissing, alley-cat child – to be about seven. It was hard to be specific when the kid was drowning in one of Jensen’s t-shirts and wearing an expression usually found on fighting prison inmates.
“Holy shit.” Pooch’s response was about as eloquent as Cougar could manage himself.
“Why the fuck is there a fucking kid in the trunk? Clay, are you fucking out of your motherfucking mind.” Roque turned from the kid to bellow at Clay, narrowly missing the hand Pooch swung at his head.
“Enough with the ‘f’ bombs!” He hissed, throwing a look down to the kid in the trunk.
“It’s fucking Jensen!” Clay threw his head back in exasperation and joined the huddle around the trunk. “His first fucking word was probably ‘fuck’.”
Cougar had to agree with the colonel there. Jensen’s language was…colorful. And the reason Cougar suspected his own mental thought process was so fucking filled with cuss words. Jensen was a bad influence.
“You mean to tell me that –“ Roque pointed at the kid, who was far quieter than Jensen ever was, “is Jensen”.
“That’s pretty much it. I told him not to fucking touch the weird fucking machine! But no, because he never fucking listens. I swear to motherfucking god I am going to have him Court Marshalled for this.” Clay fumed.
Now that would be an interesting trial. Could Jensen be discharged for no longer meeting the minimum enlistment age?
Did the Army even have precedent for this sort of thing? Come to think of it, did ‘this sort of thing’ ever happen to anyone who wasn’t them?
The kid – Jensen?! – clearly shared their techie’s brains, if not his shoe size. As they were all in the middle arguing about whether or not he was their Jensen and not some urchin Clay had kidnapped off the street, the kid went from still and quiet, to a speedy little blur of limbs.
He threw himself from the trunk and probably would have made a decent getaway if he hadn’t got tangled up in Jensen’s boxers – and they were Jensen’s alright: no one in their right mind would wear those ugly fucking things – and face planted on the floor.
Cougar caught him before he could smash his skull open and got a punch to the ribs in thanks.
Motherfuck, his hands were tiny.
After the punch, it became an all out kick-fest. He squirmed in Cougar’s hold like a fucking eel, sharp elbows and knees, and a crafty ability for planting them in all the right places.
Cougar’s hand could wrap right the way around his bicep.
Jesus Christ, he was going to break the kid without even meaning to. He’d hold too tight and those fragile, developing bones would just break, and the kid would cry and Jensen would bitch like the end of the world when he got big again…
…and why the fuck did Cougar bother getting out of bed that morning?
“Now you see why I locked him in the trunk!”
“So Jensen got zapped by some super laser gun while you guys were trying to download government secrets?” Pooch was sat on the bench with an ice-pack between his legs. Apparently Jensen didn’t appreciate being called ‘little guy’ any more than he liked Cougar manhandling him.
In the end, short of actually hurting him, they’d been forced to do a lock down of the site and just let Jensen go. There was nowhere he could run to and get himself killed.
Only a tiny fucking alcove in the corner of the building, which, while obvious, was sure as fucking hell not a place any of them could fit in.
“Pretty much. He said something about sub-atomic particles which went way over my head; security made us and somewhere between me telling him not to fucking touch anything and people trying to kill us, I lost my corporal and kidnapped his mini-me.”
So a typical day at the office, then.
They’d grouped around a large table, each of them keeping half an eye on the place where Jensen was hiding. “Am I the only person who has spotted the major inconsistency in this “Twilight Zone’ scenario?” Roque asked. “Jensen never shuts the fuck up.”
And the child hiding from them had yet to make a single sound. He’d not even screamed, which, when Cougar thought about it, was pretty fucking weird.
Jensen obviously didn’t know or trust them, and most children his age, when faced with what on the surface looked like a really botched kidnapping, would have started screaming right from the get go.
“Maybe he can’t speak?” Cougar suggested.
“Can we keep him?” Roque snorted. He didn’t mean it, not really, but they all could appreciate the joke.
“Or maybe Jensen grew out of his self-preservation?” Pooch added. “Or hit his head one too many times.”
That was a distinct possibility. Jensen and concussions went hand in hand. Cougar was waiting for the time his brain started dripping out of his ears.
“Shouldn’t we try talk to him?” Pooch, even bruised, was the voice of compassion in the team.
Roque, in contrast, was the heavy hand of reality. “And say what? ‘Hi kid, I know we kidnapped you, but we’re really your best friends from when you’re a grown up’?”
When you put it that way…
Cougar rolled his eyes. There was one sure fire way of getting Jensen’s attention.
He rooted through Jensen’s bags and unearthed a packet of M&Ms.
“Candy? Seriously?” Clay asked.
Cougar shrugged. He wasn’t above bribery. Not for something so important.
He took the bag and set it down far enough outside Jensen’s hiding place that he’d need to crawl out to get it.
“We’re bribing a kid with candy.” Pooch shook his head. “We are bad, bad men.”
“¿tienes hambre?”
“I don’t think he speaks Spanish, Cougs.” Clay followed him, but stopped some feet away from where Cougar had crouched down.
“He doesn’t need to.” Cougar replied. Jensen had always understood his voice, even if he hadn’t known the words Cougar was saying.
Feeling like he was trying to soothe a spooked cat, Cougar reached out his hand and tried to look as non-threatening as he could manage.
Out of the four of them, Pooch was probably the one who looked least like a serial killer. He was also benched until the ice started to melt.
That left Clay and Roque.
Clay was not good with kids. At all. As proved by the whole trunk incident. Who the fuck locked a child in a fucking trunk?
Roque…could be surprisingly gentle, when he felt the need to be. But he also was easily the tallest, and the biggest. He had the body of someone who could fuck up a man five times the kid’s size.
Which left Cougar.
Who wasn’t great with people in general, let alone mini-Jensen people.
He saw Jensen’s nose first, then a set of big blue eyes and a wicked fucking glare.
It was an impressive look on someone who was maybe four feet tall. "Tu caja fuerte"
Not that he honestly expected the kid to believe him.
Cougar slid a blade out of his boot and pushed it hilt first across the ground towards Jensen. “Take it. It’s okay.”
“Cougar, I may never have children thanks to him, and you’re giving him a weapon?”
“Would you rather I gave him my gun?” Cougar asked, not once taking his eyes off Jensen.
If they wanted the kid to trust them, he needed to feel safe – or as safe as he could be in a room full of strange, scary men.
The kid snatched up the blade, then the M&Ms, and scurried back into his hiding place.
“That’s settled then,” Clay declared. “Cougar’s on babysitting duty. Roque, we’re going back to TecnoGené, see what we can unearth there. Pooch, when you’re done holding your balls, I want you to see what you can get from Jensen’s computer. See if there is anything online.” He looked doubtful that there would be. Jensen never took the easy path, or the one with the escape route.
“Great, that’s great. Leave The Pooch with the hard job. Do you know what he’ll do to me if he finds out I got fingerprints on his fucking precious? Maim, okay. Maim”
Clay’s jaw twitched as he tried not to smile. Jensen was notoriously territorial when it came to his computers. Look, but do not fucking touch. “You’re scared of Jensen?”
“Cougar gave him a knife, and he wants to kill us.”
“He’s just scared.” Cougar frowned, moving to defend Jensen. “él es sólo un niño.”
Cougar did understand Pooch’s concern. He’d seen children kill before – he’d killed children when they’d tried.
But this was Jensen, and Cougar knew Jensen. When Jensen was scared, really, truly fucking scared, he went to ground and regrouped. In his hiding place, with food and some way of defending himself, that was exactly what he was doing.
Then, when he calmed down, that big fucking brain of his - the one that got them into trouble all the goddamned time - would kick in.
And Jensen would be curious.
He’d edge out, want to know more, and that’s when they’d get their chance to figure out what the fuck had happened.
Yeah, this is me going back to 'shame' again.
Half as much again 1/?
Gen
R
The one where Jensen gets deaged, and the rest of the team quietly (or not so quietly) freak the fuck out.
Cougar had bad days.
Sometimes they were really bad.
Occasionally, they were really fucking bad.
And then sometimes they were so fucked up he had the urge to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger because he must have been a seriously evil sonovabitch in a previous life to deserve this shit.
It wasn’t often he saw Clay looking the same way.
Their fearless leader was, well…fearless. And even if he privately had no fucking clue what was happening, he always looked like everything was going according to some seriously fucked up plan.
Cougar wasn’t the only one that noticed something was wrong. As soon as Clay was up and out of the car Pooch had hotwired for them, the rest of the team were on their feet and headed in his direction.
“What happened?” Roque demanded, right about the time Pooch noticed they were one man down.
“Where the hell is Jensen?”
Cougar’s gaze narrowed in on the colonel. Clay looked freaked out and majorly bemused, but he didn’t look like someone had died. Cougar knew that Clay cared about them all – even Jensen, though he frequently denied it – enough to be devastated if any of them were kia.
Clay dragged a hand over his face then waved it in the direction of the car. “In the trunk.”
So it wouldn’t be the first time they’d threatened to lock Jensen in the trunk after a long trip. Pooch was usually the one who suggested it, leaving Clay to restore order. At most Jensen and Clay had been gone two hours, and it took even Jensen a hell of a lot longer than that to really piss the colonel off. Since they'd been working, Jensen would have kept his annoying tendencies to a minimum, at least until they had bust in and out of TecnoGené.
“Seriously? Man, I’d have killed to se that! Hey Jay, you comfy in there?” Pooch was delighted by the prospect and rapped on the lid of the trunk.
Cougar and Roque glared at Clay. None of them, least of all Jensen, liked small spaces.
“Exactly why is he in the trunk?”
“I need a fucking drink.” Was Clay’s answer. “Whiskey, vodka, fuck, I’ll take terps if we have any.”
It was three in the afternoon. Cougar and Roque shared a look. “Clay, why is Jensen in the trunk?” Roque repeated himself.
Clay shook his head. “Go see for yourself. Watch it though, he fucking bites.”
Pooch was the one to pop the lid of the trunk.
Roque was the one who got a foot – a small, bare, fucking tiny foot – in his nose. “Motherfuck! Jesus Christ, Jensen!”
Cougar peered over his shoulder, looked inside the trunk and fell back a step.
So it was one of those days, then.
Rough estimate put the kid – because there was no Jensen in the trunk, just a hissing, alley-cat child – to be about seven. It was hard to be specific when the kid was drowning in one of Jensen’s t-shirts and wearing an expression usually found on fighting prison inmates.
“Holy shit.” Pooch’s response was about as eloquent as Cougar could manage himself.
“Why the fuck is there a fucking kid in the trunk? Clay, are you fucking out of your motherfucking mind.” Roque turned from the kid to bellow at Clay, narrowly missing the hand Pooch swung at his head.
“Enough with the ‘f’ bombs!” He hissed, throwing a look down to the kid in the trunk.
“It’s fucking Jensen!” Clay threw his head back in exasperation and joined the huddle around the trunk. “His first fucking word was probably ‘fuck’.”
Cougar had to agree with the colonel there. Jensen’s language was…colorful. And the reason Cougar suspected his own mental thought process was so fucking filled with cuss words. Jensen was a bad influence.
“You mean to tell me that –“ Roque pointed at the kid, who was far quieter than Jensen ever was, “is Jensen”.
“That’s pretty much it. I told him not to fucking touch the weird fucking machine! But no, because he never fucking listens. I swear to motherfucking god I am going to have him Court Marshalled for this.” Clay fumed.
Now that would be an interesting trial. Could Jensen be discharged for no longer meeting the minimum enlistment age?
Did the Army even have precedent for this sort of thing? Come to think of it, did ‘this sort of thing’ ever happen to anyone who wasn’t them?
The kid – Jensen?! – clearly shared their techie’s brains, if not his shoe size. As they were all in the middle arguing about whether or not he was their Jensen and not some urchin Clay had kidnapped off the street, the kid went from still and quiet, to a speedy little blur of limbs.
He threw himself from the trunk and probably would have made a decent getaway if he hadn’t got tangled up in Jensen’s boxers – and they were Jensen’s alright: no one in their right mind would wear those ugly fucking things – and face planted on the floor.
Cougar caught him before he could smash his skull open and got a punch to the ribs in thanks.
Motherfuck, his hands were tiny.
After the punch, it became an all out kick-fest. He squirmed in Cougar’s hold like a fucking eel, sharp elbows and knees, and a crafty ability for planting them in all the right places.
Cougar’s hand could wrap right the way around his bicep.
Jesus Christ, he was going to break the kid without even meaning to. He’d hold too tight and those fragile, developing bones would just break, and the kid would cry and Jensen would bitch like the end of the world when he got big again…
…and why the fuck did Cougar bother getting out of bed that morning?
“Now you see why I locked him in the trunk!”
“So Jensen got zapped by some super laser gun while you guys were trying to download government secrets?” Pooch was sat on the bench with an ice-pack between his legs. Apparently Jensen didn’t appreciate being called ‘little guy’ any more than he liked Cougar manhandling him.
In the end, short of actually hurting him, they’d been forced to do a lock down of the site and just let Jensen go. There was nowhere he could run to and get himself killed.
Only a tiny fucking alcove in the corner of the building, which, while obvious, was sure as fucking hell not a place any of them could fit in.
“Pretty much. He said something about sub-atomic particles which went way over my head; security made us and somewhere between me telling him not to fucking touch anything and people trying to kill us, I lost my corporal and kidnapped his mini-me.”
So a typical day at the office, then.
They’d grouped around a large table, each of them keeping half an eye on the place where Jensen was hiding. “Am I the only person who has spotted the major inconsistency in this “Twilight Zone’ scenario?” Roque asked. “Jensen never shuts the fuck up.”
And the child hiding from them had yet to make a single sound. He’d not even screamed, which, when Cougar thought about it, was pretty fucking weird.
Jensen obviously didn’t know or trust them, and most children his age, when faced with what on the surface looked like a really botched kidnapping, would have started screaming right from the get go.
“Maybe he can’t speak?” Cougar suggested.
“Can we keep him?” Roque snorted. He didn’t mean it, not really, but they all could appreciate the joke.
“Or maybe Jensen grew out of his self-preservation?” Pooch added. “Or hit his head one too many times.”
That was a distinct possibility. Jensen and concussions went hand in hand. Cougar was waiting for the time his brain started dripping out of his ears.
“Shouldn’t we try talk to him?” Pooch, even bruised, was the voice of compassion in the team.
Roque, in contrast, was the heavy hand of reality. “And say what? ‘Hi kid, I know we kidnapped you, but we’re really your best friends from when you’re a grown up’?”
When you put it that way…
Cougar rolled his eyes. There was one sure fire way of getting Jensen’s attention.
He rooted through Jensen’s bags and unearthed a packet of M&Ms.
“Candy? Seriously?” Clay asked.
Cougar shrugged. He wasn’t above bribery. Not for something so important.
He took the bag and set it down far enough outside Jensen’s hiding place that he’d need to crawl out to get it.
“We’re bribing a kid with candy.” Pooch shook his head. “We are bad, bad men.”
“¿tienes hambre?”
“I don’t think he speaks Spanish, Cougs.” Clay followed him, but stopped some feet away from where Cougar had crouched down.
“He doesn’t need to.” Cougar replied. Jensen had always understood his voice, even if he hadn’t known the words Cougar was saying.
Feeling like he was trying to soothe a spooked cat, Cougar reached out his hand and tried to look as non-threatening as he could manage.
Out of the four of them, Pooch was probably the one who looked least like a serial killer. He was also benched until the ice started to melt.
That left Clay and Roque.
Clay was not good with kids. At all. As proved by the whole trunk incident. Who the fuck locked a child in a fucking trunk?
Roque…could be surprisingly gentle, when he felt the need to be. But he also was easily the tallest, and the biggest. He had the body of someone who could fuck up a man five times the kid’s size.
Which left Cougar.
Who wasn’t great with people in general, let alone mini-Jensen people.
He saw Jensen’s nose first, then a set of big blue eyes and a wicked fucking glare.
It was an impressive look on someone who was maybe four feet tall. "Tu caja fuerte"
Not that he honestly expected the kid to believe him.
Cougar slid a blade out of his boot and pushed it hilt first across the ground towards Jensen. “Take it. It’s okay.”
“Cougar, I may never have children thanks to him, and you’re giving him a weapon?”
“Would you rather I gave him my gun?” Cougar asked, not once taking his eyes off Jensen.
If they wanted the kid to trust them, he needed to feel safe – or as safe as he could be in a room full of strange, scary men.
The kid snatched up the blade, then the M&Ms, and scurried back into his hiding place.
“That’s settled then,” Clay declared. “Cougar’s on babysitting duty. Roque, we’re going back to TecnoGené, see what we can unearth there. Pooch, when you’re done holding your balls, I want you to see what you can get from Jensen’s computer. See if there is anything online.” He looked doubtful that there would be. Jensen never took the easy path, or the one with the escape route.
“Great, that’s great. Leave The Pooch with the hard job. Do you know what he’ll do to me if he finds out I got fingerprints on his fucking precious? Maim, okay. Maim”
Clay’s jaw twitched as he tried not to smile. Jensen was notoriously territorial when it came to his computers. Look, but do not fucking touch. “You’re scared of Jensen?”
“Cougar gave him a knife, and he wants to kill us.”
“He’s just scared.” Cougar frowned, moving to defend Jensen. “él es sólo un niño.”
Cougar did understand Pooch’s concern. He’d seen children kill before – he’d killed children when they’d tried.
But this was Jensen, and Cougar knew Jensen. When Jensen was scared, really, truly fucking scared, he went to ground and regrouped. In his hiding place, with food and some way of defending himself, that was exactly what he was doing.
Then, when he calmed down, that big fucking brain of his - the one that got them into trouble all the goddamned time - would kick in.
And Jensen would be curious.
He’d edge out, want to know more, and that’s when they’d get their chance to figure out what the fuck had happened.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 09:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 09:28 pm (UTC)I will write more...it would be too mean to everyone to leave them all hanging.
Thanks for reading :D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 09:12 pm (UTC)I love Clay locking Jensen in the truck. I love the mini!Jensen taking on the Losers. I love that Cougar gave him a knife.
Don't worry little Jensen, Cougar will protect you.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 09:30 pm (UTC)And I think Jensen is possibly THE most well protected kid on the planet. Can you imagine anyone stupid enough to try anything with him? God, the bloodshed would be insane.
Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 09:14 pm (UTC)Like full-on big-stupid-smile GLEE.
Oh Cougar! Oh little Jensen! Oh stupid Clay! Oh poor Pooch and his inability to ever have children!
GLEE.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 09:35 pm (UTC)I swear, I read far too much into these characters...
Thanks for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 09:57 pm (UTC)and such an interesting concept - young Jensen being scary and feral, instead of cute and bubbly - im intrigued! :D
can't wait to see more!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:28 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 10:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:29 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 10:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 10:40 pm (UTC)Love how you played it, you did it beautifully! =D
Cannot wait to read more ;]
~Tala-Paige~
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:30 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 10:42 pm (UTC)awesome))) me wants more!!!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:30 pm (UTC)More on the way!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 10:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-15 11:43 pm (UTC)I love it, like everything of yours I've read.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:32 pm (UTC)Thank you so much! I really am pleased you are enjoying.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-16 12:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:37 pm (UTC)More soon :)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-16 12:49 am (UTC)The idea of mini-Jensen is adorable and a little scary. Can't wait to see where you go with this!
I'd totally send cake or cookies as a bribe if I could, lol!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:37 pm (UTC)I would totally accept cookies as bribes as well! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-16 03:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:38 pm (UTC)Thanks so much, more soon!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-16 03:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-16 04:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:38 pm (UTC)Thanks so much. More on the way.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-18 06:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-18 07:34 am (UTC)loving this
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 12:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-19 07:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-08 02:16 pm (UTC)I'm going to add my comments to "more please?" because seriously you cannot leave the boys there or like that!
And in case you haven't seen this... (I'm guess you have thought since I think you've been talking to my co-mod) The Losers Not So Big Bang Challenge (http://community.livejournal.com/losers_minibang/549.html) We're going to open the prompts for claiming in the next week or so. :-)
Ohh!
Date: 2010-08-11 06:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-12 11:12 am (UTC)Wow
Date: 2020-02-18 02:41 am (UTC)