Crack!fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eloise_bright - when fandoms collide
Jul. 11th, 2006 11:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lonelybritOnce upon a time there was Eloise and LB. Two shameless fangirls who found they had rather a lot in common when it came to admiration of AtS, specifically Wesley and the legendary Dad!angst. They would plot together, dissect episodes together, even - very scarily - literally speak as one. Thus was born the term 'Brain twin!'
And then a slight hitch occurred. Namely AtS ended. Bugger. And as will happen, other fandoms moved in. LB got ambushed by Franz Ferdinand, and Eloise, despite initial scorn, found herself selling her soul to Supernatural.
So eventually a conversation was had, acknowledging the change of interests, and each decided to write an 'au revoir' fic for certain characters. Eloise came up with a poignant, beautiful idea full of pathos and hope. LB was either very drunk and/or on crack when she found herself producing this specimen. You have been warned. And, er, sorry...
Title: Cos The World's Gone Mad.
Rating: PG
Fandoms: Angel, Supernatural, Franz Ferdinand and a dash of Doctor Who.
Giles had enjoyed his vacation. He knew Wesley was mildly peeved that they could now afford the time to see new things, but Giles always had been and always would be a rolling stone. And frankly some of the new arrivals were only further proof that it was time to take another look at the world beyond their usual haunts.
Still, it was good to be back, and Giles would be lying if he claimed that Wesley’s delighted ‘Giles!’ didn’t make his heart swell just a little.
Wesley smiled up at him, settled in his favourite bar stool, a tumbler of whisky held lightly in one elegant hand.
“Giles,” he repeated, swivelling in his seat to face him more fully. The light caught in the crystal between his fingers, shattering over the wooden surface. “You’re back sooner than I thought you’d be. Drink?” He lifted his nearly empty glass in offer.
“If you’ll join me,” Giles said, shrugging off his jacket and laying it on the stool next to Wesley’s. Before seating himself, he took a moment to run his fingers lightly down Wesley’s face, tilting up the jaw so he could brush a kiss against those curved lips. “I missed you.”
“So I should hope,” Wesley replied tartly, pulling away. Despite the sharp tone his eyes sparked with amusement. He turned back to the bar. “Fortunately Angel more than made up for your absence. He seemed to consider it nothing less than his duty to stretch his imagination beyond the ordinary to prevent my fading away through pining.”
Giles winced at the slight pang of guilt. “Did you… well… pine?”
“With Angel tending to my every need?” said Wesley sweetly, “Giles, I barely had the time, let alone the energy. Did you want a malt or the scotch?”
“How long are you going to milk this?”
“I should imagine at least a week.”
“Right.” Giles sighed and mentally cancelled any plans he had made for the next fortnight.
“Man, I’m telling you, this just gets more and more weird.”
Both Wesley and Giles turned sharply as a new voice came from one of the many doorways to the room.
“Oh come on, Dean, it’s just a bar.”
A pair of young men stood on the doormat, taking in their surroundings whilst apparently oblivious to the silent stares their presence had generated.
The first speaker was the fairer of the two, with short, dark blonde hair and a face lightly touched with freckles. Although he barely stood higher than his companion’s elbow, Giles had to check himself from dismissing the boy as a midget. For a start, in terms of build one could draw comparisons to Riley; a rather dusty leather jacket revealed the lines of distinctly broad shoulders and a generally trim physique. Furthermore, if one took into account the stranger’s height in relation to the doorframe behind him, then the scale abruptly changed, revealing the boy to be at least six foot.
In comparison, the second speaker looked rather like he’d grown too quickly and been slightly stretched, his limbs yet to fill out to their final adult proportions. Despite towering over his companion, the boy looked barely more than a child. The young look was not helped by a ridiculous mop of unruly brown hair that flopped down into his eyes. Giles’ hands itched to reach for a pair of scissors.
The shorter of the two – Dean, apparently - finally seemed to notice Giles and Wesley. He fixed them with a decidedly suspicious look, hanging back as the other began to wander further into the room.
“Hold up, Sammy.”
‘Sammy’ paused, his gaze instantly following the direction of Dean’s warning nod to the bar.
Wesley gave him a little wave with his glass-free hand.
“Hi there,” said Sammy brightly, ignoring Dean’s continuing hostile silence.
“Hello,” said Giles and Wesley in polite unison.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Dean firmly interjected, coming forward to stand by Sammy, “who the hell are you two?”
Giles quietly noted the way Dean put himself a few centimetres in front of the other, as well as the expression of weary exasperation that flickered over Sammy’s face at the interruption. He’d seen the same mix of protective caution and frustrated eye-rolling a hundred times during his years with Buffy and Dawn. Buffy and Dawn… Could it be…
“We live here,” said Wesley mildly, undaunted by the daggered glare still directed at them both.
Newcomers always tended to be a little confused when they first arrived. For some reason they tended to expect this place to be exclusively for them, though at least the last bunch had seemed more than happy to share. In fact, that time round it had more been Giles and Wesley who asked the question, to then sit down heavily when they heard the fateful words: ‘Oh, we’re live here now.’
‘Under whose authority?’
‘LB’s, she said we’re more than welcome.’ It was the suddenly child-like, uncertain look that made Giles unbend. ‘It is… Well, that’s all right, isn’t it?’
‘Of course.’
“You’re living here too?” Dean didn’t look especially happy. “How’s that possible? You some kind of demons, you worm your way inside her brain or something?”
“In a manner of speaking, I suppose we did,” said Wesley thoughtfully, smiling wistfully at the far wall. “The doors were thrown open and she embraced us.”
“You mean we’re not the first?” Sammy sounded more intrigued than annoyed. He crossed the space between them and flung himself with surprising grace into another spare bar stool. “There’re others here too?”
Wesley beamed and signalled to Francis for another glass. “Oh yes, we’re getting positively multi-fandom these days.”
“Cool,” Sammy smiled, and then suddenly straightened, extending his hand. “Sorry, I forgot. I’m Sam Winchester, and the sulking child behind me is my brother, Dean.”
“That’s it, dude, you’re travelling in the trunk for the next two fics, and I’m letting her cut your hair.”
“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,” said Wesley, shaking the proffered limb with perfect squeeze-release technique. “My partner here is Rupert Giles. We’ll introduce you to the rest of the team in a moment.”
Giles meanwhile was still receiving an exceptionally dark look from Dean. He decided that polite conversation would probably be the best way to convince the boy that he hadn’t any plans involving sprouting tentacles or summoning ghouls under a blue moon.
“So you’re here on the invite of Eloise or LB?” he asked with what he hoped was a sufficiently balanced expression of curiosity and unbridled welcome.
“Elby?” Dean frowned in confusion. “That like a pseudonym? One name for the English and another for normal folks like us?”
“Eloise then,” said Giles with perfect composure.
Dean was now looking around his surroundings, taking in the bar, the dartboard and the light of a warm summer dusk that streamed in through the windows. His gaze lingered for a moment on Sammy – now deep in conversation with Wesley – and the defensive rigidity finally left his form.
“Yeah, Eloise,” he said, and gave a shrug-smile so popular with American youth. It made a pleasant change to his face, the twist of the lips lighting up his eyes with good humour. “There were some mixed signals to begin with, but then she pretty much handed us the keys and told us to do what we want.”
Something about the switch of mood and the way Dean’s gaze kept flickering back to Sammy continued to ring a bell with Giles. Again, he found himself comparing this Dean to Buffy. It was easy to forget how much responsibility she carried until, just for a rare brilliant moment, she truly smiled, let herself be a young woman with an uncharted course before her rather than the Chosen One. He would have to find out more about these brothers, but not just yet. Let them relax a bit first.
“So,” Dean continued, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “where’re these other folks then?”
“On, they’ll be on LB’s side,” Giles said. Then, seeing Dean’s continuing blank expression, he added: “LB? Eloise’s brain twin?”
Dean seemed to think this over for a moment. “Yeah,” he said eventually, “I knew this was too good to last. This is seven shades of messed-up.”
“You’ll find you get used to it very quickly,” Wesley said, startling Giles with his sudden contribution. “It does happen sometimes. Two minds who think alike and tend to make joint decisions regarding our next plot. Think of this bar as the crossroads.”
“Damn good bar too,” Sammy added, holding aloft some ghastly American beer in a bottle that was no doubt chilled to beyond all decency. “Honestly, Dean, this is good stuff. Will you quit with the whinging and just enjoy a drink?”
“Eloise and LB,” Giles continued, pushing out the stool next to him and gesturing Dean to take a seat. “They’re both responsible for me and Wes, and every now and then they add to our numbers. Though recently their choices have been slightly more erratic and disjointed.”
A door on the other side of room crashed open and the tall figure of Jack Harkness strode into the room.
“Newbies!” he declared delightedly, and Giles could practically see the gleam in his eye as his gaze raked over Sammy and Dean. “Giles you tease, why didn’t you tell me we had new blood?”
Dean stared. “He’s an erratic one, right?”
“No, he was one of the last of the joint invitees,” said Wesley happily. “He’ll show you around, he’s very friendly.” He gave an innocent smile when Giles eyed him narrowly.
“Right.” Sammy sounded rather uncertain as Jack beamed across at him.
Giles turned back to Dean, half expecting to find him striding forth with the angry words ‘Stay away from my brother’, only to find that Dean was already being distracted.
Another pair of men had followed more quietly in Jack’s wake. No doubt the other three would follow once they’d finished packing away the instruments.
“But I hate flying,” one was saying rather pathetically, the dusky light blazing softly around his mass of tangled blonde curls. “Planes are bad enough, but what if she decides to send me long distance on a broomstick?”
“Oh hush, Bob, you know she’d far rather keep you grounded and then kill you off.”
“What?!”
These two at least hadn’t changed since Giles last clapped eyes on them. Well apart from Alex, again, changing his haircut. The pixie-cut, which Giles had thought rather sweet whilst Wesley called it ridiculous, was gone, replaced by the ever-faithful fringe.
“It’s a sign of affection,” Alex said with a comforting pat on Bob’s shoulder. He raised his head and voice, addressing the whole bar: “Isn’t that right, fellas?”
“What? Oh yes,” said Wesley absently, he gave a happy nostalgic sigh. “I’ve been shot, turned, hacked in two. It was touching the effort they put into making my last moments as poignant as possible.”
“Oh, I gotta agree with that,” Dean nodded fervently, this choice of topic clearly a popular one. “One time I didn’t even survive the first episode, just so she could have the double whammy of a death and a surprise ending. Worked damn well too,” he added, more to himself than anyone else, with a decidedly pleased expression. “There were some broken hearts over that one.”
“He was going on about that for days,” Sam muttered in an undertone to Wesley. “Honestly, I’ve never seen him so smug.”
“Wait a minute, you two are new aren’t you?” Alex said with rather belated surprise. He clapped his hands together, green eyes shining, “Excellent! Bigger audience for our next gig!”
Wesley couldn’t quite hide his expression of horror. Giles gave him a discrete kick and shot him a warning look.
“How lovely,” Wesley mumbled grudgingly.
“So, Eloise or LB?” Alex asked as he and Bob settled themselves on one of the benches against the wall.
“Eloise,” said Dean carelessly, as if he’d been fielding such questions for months as opposed to mere minutes.
“Well, that would make sense,” Bob said in his typically clipped tones. He looked at Alex for confirmation. “Nick was saying that she should be making invites soon, keep the balance after LB asked us.”
“True enough,” Alex nodded.
Dean finally seemed to notice that Jack had now not only sat next to Sammy but was buying him drinks. With a hasty ‘Excuse me a moment,’ he rocketed into the previously non-existent space between the two.
Alex didn’t seem to mind and instantly settled back into conversation with Bob. Giles watched them for a brief moment; he had to admit he still wasn’t entirely sure as to the status of their relationship. Unless a crossover occurred, he doubted anyone would give him a definite answer. Alex, though perfectly friendly if regrettably unserious about life, tended to guard his privacy with quietly fierce resolve.
“So,” Wesley purred into Giles’ ear, making Giles turn back round to look at him, those blue eyes endless when viewed this close. “Do you think you’ll find enough to interest you here for the time being? Or will I need to follow Angel’s example of employing the imagination?”
“You, sir, have grown far too cocky for your own good.”
Wesley’s expression abruptly went deadly serious.
“That,” he said quietly, one hand shamelessly running up the inside seam of Giles’ leg, fingernails scratching lightly over the denim, “is a consequence you are just going to have to face up to, Mr Giles.”
fin.
And then a slight hitch occurred. Namely AtS ended. Bugger. And as will happen, other fandoms moved in. LB got ambushed by Franz Ferdinand, and Eloise, despite initial scorn, found herself selling her soul to Supernatural.
So eventually a conversation was had, acknowledging the change of interests, and each decided to write an 'au revoir' fic for certain characters. Eloise came up with a poignant, beautiful idea full of pathos and hope. LB was either very drunk and/or on crack when she found herself producing this specimen. You have been warned. And, er, sorry...
Title: Cos The World's Gone Mad.
Rating: PG
Fandoms: Angel, Supernatural, Franz Ferdinand and a dash of Doctor Who.
Giles had enjoyed his vacation. He knew Wesley was mildly peeved that they could now afford the time to see new things, but Giles always had been and always would be a rolling stone. And frankly some of the new arrivals were only further proof that it was time to take another look at the world beyond their usual haunts.
Still, it was good to be back, and Giles would be lying if he claimed that Wesley’s delighted ‘Giles!’ didn’t make his heart swell just a little.
Wesley smiled up at him, settled in his favourite bar stool, a tumbler of whisky held lightly in one elegant hand.
“Giles,” he repeated, swivelling in his seat to face him more fully. The light caught in the crystal between his fingers, shattering over the wooden surface. “You’re back sooner than I thought you’d be. Drink?” He lifted his nearly empty glass in offer.
“If you’ll join me,” Giles said, shrugging off his jacket and laying it on the stool next to Wesley’s. Before seating himself, he took a moment to run his fingers lightly down Wesley’s face, tilting up the jaw so he could brush a kiss against those curved lips. “I missed you.”
“So I should hope,” Wesley replied tartly, pulling away. Despite the sharp tone his eyes sparked with amusement. He turned back to the bar. “Fortunately Angel more than made up for your absence. He seemed to consider it nothing less than his duty to stretch his imagination beyond the ordinary to prevent my fading away through pining.”
Giles winced at the slight pang of guilt. “Did you… well… pine?”
“With Angel tending to my every need?” said Wesley sweetly, “Giles, I barely had the time, let alone the energy. Did you want a malt or the scotch?”
“How long are you going to milk this?”
“I should imagine at least a week.”
“Right.” Giles sighed and mentally cancelled any plans he had made for the next fortnight.
“Man, I’m telling you, this just gets more and more weird.”
Both Wesley and Giles turned sharply as a new voice came from one of the many doorways to the room.
“Oh come on, Dean, it’s just a bar.”
A pair of young men stood on the doormat, taking in their surroundings whilst apparently oblivious to the silent stares their presence had generated.
The first speaker was the fairer of the two, with short, dark blonde hair and a face lightly touched with freckles. Although he barely stood higher than his companion’s elbow, Giles had to check himself from dismissing the boy as a midget. For a start, in terms of build one could draw comparisons to Riley; a rather dusty leather jacket revealed the lines of distinctly broad shoulders and a generally trim physique. Furthermore, if one took into account the stranger’s height in relation to the doorframe behind him, then the scale abruptly changed, revealing the boy to be at least six foot.
In comparison, the second speaker looked rather like he’d grown too quickly and been slightly stretched, his limbs yet to fill out to their final adult proportions. Despite towering over his companion, the boy looked barely more than a child. The young look was not helped by a ridiculous mop of unruly brown hair that flopped down into his eyes. Giles’ hands itched to reach for a pair of scissors.
The shorter of the two – Dean, apparently - finally seemed to notice Giles and Wesley. He fixed them with a decidedly suspicious look, hanging back as the other began to wander further into the room.
“Hold up, Sammy.”
‘Sammy’ paused, his gaze instantly following the direction of Dean’s warning nod to the bar.
Wesley gave him a little wave with his glass-free hand.
“Hi there,” said Sammy brightly, ignoring Dean’s continuing hostile silence.
“Hello,” said Giles and Wesley in polite unison.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Dean firmly interjected, coming forward to stand by Sammy, “who the hell are you two?”
Giles quietly noted the way Dean put himself a few centimetres in front of the other, as well as the expression of weary exasperation that flickered over Sammy’s face at the interruption. He’d seen the same mix of protective caution and frustrated eye-rolling a hundred times during his years with Buffy and Dawn. Buffy and Dawn… Could it be…
“We live here,” said Wesley mildly, undaunted by the daggered glare still directed at them both.
Newcomers always tended to be a little confused when they first arrived. For some reason they tended to expect this place to be exclusively for them, though at least the last bunch had seemed more than happy to share. In fact, that time round it had more been Giles and Wesley who asked the question, to then sit down heavily when they heard the fateful words: ‘Oh, we’re live here now.’
‘Under whose authority?’
‘LB’s, she said we’re more than welcome.’ It was the suddenly child-like, uncertain look that made Giles unbend. ‘It is… Well, that’s all right, isn’t it?’
‘Of course.’
“You’re living here too?” Dean didn’t look especially happy. “How’s that possible? You some kind of demons, you worm your way inside her brain or something?”
“In a manner of speaking, I suppose we did,” said Wesley thoughtfully, smiling wistfully at the far wall. “The doors were thrown open and she embraced us.”
“You mean we’re not the first?” Sammy sounded more intrigued than annoyed. He crossed the space between them and flung himself with surprising grace into another spare bar stool. “There’re others here too?”
Wesley beamed and signalled to Francis for another glass. “Oh yes, we’re getting positively multi-fandom these days.”
“Cool,” Sammy smiled, and then suddenly straightened, extending his hand. “Sorry, I forgot. I’m Sam Winchester, and the sulking child behind me is my brother, Dean.”
“That’s it, dude, you’re travelling in the trunk for the next two fics, and I’m letting her cut your hair.”
“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,” said Wesley, shaking the proffered limb with perfect squeeze-release technique. “My partner here is Rupert Giles. We’ll introduce you to the rest of the team in a moment.”
Giles meanwhile was still receiving an exceptionally dark look from Dean. He decided that polite conversation would probably be the best way to convince the boy that he hadn’t any plans involving sprouting tentacles or summoning ghouls under a blue moon.
“So you’re here on the invite of Eloise or LB?” he asked with what he hoped was a sufficiently balanced expression of curiosity and unbridled welcome.
“Elby?” Dean frowned in confusion. “That like a pseudonym? One name for the English and another for normal folks like us?”
“Eloise then,” said Giles with perfect composure.
Dean was now looking around his surroundings, taking in the bar, the dartboard and the light of a warm summer dusk that streamed in through the windows. His gaze lingered for a moment on Sammy – now deep in conversation with Wesley – and the defensive rigidity finally left his form.
“Yeah, Eloise,” he said, and gave a shrug-smile so popular with American youth. It made a pleasant change to his face, the twist of the lips lighting up his eyes with good humour. “There were some mixed signals to begin with, but then she pretty much handed us the keys and told us to do what we want.”
Something about the switch of mood and the way Dean’s gaze kept flickering back to Sammy continued to ring a bell with Giles. Again, he found himself comparing this Dean to Buffy. It was easy to forget how much responsibility she carried until, just for a rare brilliant moment, she truly smiled, let herself be a young woman with an uncharted course before her rather than the Chosen One. He would have to find out more about these brothers, but not just yet. Let them relax a bit first.
“So,” Dean continued, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “where’re these other folks then?”
“On, they’ll be on LB’s side,” Giles said. Then, seeing Dean’s continuing blank expression, he added: “LB? Eloise’s brain twin?”
Dean seemed to think this over for a moment. “Yeah,” he said eventually, “I knew this was too good to last. This is seven shades of messed-up.”
“You’ll find you get used to it very quickly,” Wesley said, startling Giles with his sudden contribution. “It does happen sometimes. Two minds who think alike and tend to make joint decisions regarding our next plot. Think of this bar as the crossroads.”
“Damn good bar too,” Sammy added, holding aloft some ghastly American beer in a bottle that was no doubt chilled to beyond all decency. “Honestly, Dean, this is good stuff. Will you quit with the whinging and just enjoy a drink?”
“Eloise and LB,” Giles continued, pushing out the stool next to him and gesturing Dean to take a seat. “They’re both responsible for me and Wes, and every now and then they add to our numbers. Though recently their choices have been slightly more erratic and disjointed.”
A door on the other side of room crashed open and the tall figure of Jack Harkness strode into the room.
“Newbies!” he declared delightedly, and Giles could practically see the gleam in his eye as his gaze raked over Sammy and Dean. “Giles you tease, why didn’t you tell me we had new blood?”
Dean stared. “He’s an erratic one, right?”
“No, he was one of the last of the joint invitees,” said Wesley happily. “He’ll show you around, he’s very friendly.” He gave an innocent smile when Giles eyed him narrowly.
“Right.” Sammy sounded rather uncertain as Jack beamed across at him.
Giles turned back to Dean, half expecting to find him striding forth with the angry words ‘Stay away from my brother’, only to find that Dean was already being distracted.
Another pair of men had followed more quietly in Jack’s wake. No doubt the other three would follow once they’d finished packing away the instruments.
“But I hate flying,” one was saying rather pathetically, the dusky light blazing softly around his mass of tangled blonde curls. “Planes are bad enough, but what if she decides to send me long distance on a broomstick?”
“Oh hush, Bob, you know she’d far rather keep you grounded and then kill you off.”
“What?!”
These two at least hadn’t changed since Giles last clapped eyes on them. Well apart from Alex, again, changing his haircut. The pixie-cut, which Giles had thought rather sweet whilst Wesley called it ridiculous, was gone, replaced by the ever-faithful fringe.
“It’s a sign of affection,” Alex said with a comforting pat on Bob’s shoulder. He raised his head and voice, addressing the whole bar: “Isn’t that right, fellas?”
“What? Oh yes,” said Wesley absently, he gave a happy nostalgic sigh. “I’ve been shot, turned, hacked in two. It was touching the effort they put into making my last moments as poignant as possible.”
“Oh, I gotta agree with that,” Dean nodded fervently, this choice of topic clearly a popular one. “One time I didn’t even survive the first episode, just so she could have the double whammy of a death and a surprise ending. Worked damn well too,” he added, more to himself than anyone else, with a decidedly pleased expression. “There were some broken hearts over that one.”
“He was going on about that for days,” Sam muttered in an undertone to Wesley. “Honestly, I’ve never seen him so smug.”
“Wait a minute, you two are new aren’t you?” Alex said with rather belated surprise. He clapped his hands together, green eyes shining, “Excellent! Bigger audience for our next gig!”
Wesley couldn’t quite hide his expression of horror. Giles gave him a discrete kick and shot him a warning look.
“How lovely,” Wesley mumbled grudgingly.
“So, Eloise or LB?” Alex asked as he and Bob settled themselves on one of the benches against the wall.
“Eloise,” said Dean carelessly, as if he’d been fielding such questions for months as opposed to mere minutes.
“Well, that would make sense,” Bob said in his typically clipped tones. He looked at Alex for confirmation. “Nick was saying that she should be making invites soon, keep the balance after LB asked us.”
“True enough,” Alex nodded.
Dean finally seemed to notice that Jack had now not only sat next to Sammy but was buying him drinks. With a hasty ‘Excuse me a moment,’ he rocketed into the previously non-existent space between the two.
Alex didn’t seem to mind and instantly settled back into conversation with Bob. Giles watched them for a brief moment; he had to admit he still wasn’t entirely sure as to the status of their relationship. Unless a crossover occurred, he doubted anyone would give him a definite answer. Alex, though perfectly friendly if regrettably unserious about life, tended to guard his privacy with quietly fierce resolve.
“So,” Wesley purred into Giles’ ear, making Giles turn back round to look at him, those blue eyes endless when viewed this close. “Do you think you’ll find enough to interest you here for the time being? Or will I need to follow Angel’s example of employing the imagination?”
“You, sir, have grown far too cocky for your own good.”
Wesley’s expression abruptly went deadly serious.
“That,” he said quietly, one hand shamelessly running up the inside seam of Giles’ leg, fingernails scratching lightly over the denim, “is a consequence you are just going to have to face up to, Mr Giles.”
fin.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 08:31 am (UTC)Straight to my Memories!! Who knows when I may need crack!fic again?!
*Adores you shamelessly...*
*Smoochies to LB....*
no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 12:09 pm (UTC)Yay, a squee! :) Thank you, really glad you enjoyed this madness, LOL!