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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.
✩ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.
✩ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.
✩ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.
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✩ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.
✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
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Discussion
Not OP
(Anonymous) 2013-01-13 06:00 am (UTC)(link)Fill: Body Swap Part 4a/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-20 07:20 am (UTC)(link)It seems every time I work on this story, Haytham and Connor only want to argue with each instead of advancing the plot... -.-
--
Haytham woke up from a fitful, restless sleep just as dawn was breaking over the horizon, faintly pinkish-orange light streaming in through the filthy window just above him. For one brief moment he hoped that last night had just been a truly awful dream, and he would find himself back in his own warm, comfortable bed at Fort George. That hope was ruthlessly squashed the second Haytham had fully opened his eyes to find himself on the floor of a dirty little inn, Connor’s crumpled and now rather smelly Assassin’s robe on the floor next to him. Haytham sat up, groaning, and slowly stretched out his (Connor’s) arm and leg muscles. He grimaced as he felt his (Connor’s) back pop. The Templar Grandmaster hated not having a proper bed to sleep in at the end of each day. It always left him feeling quite out of sorts the following morning.
Connor’s body was obviously quite well taken care of, the product of years of intense training and combat. It was very similar to Haytham’s body in terms of build, with broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist. He could feel the strong cords of muscle in Connor’s abdomen, and frowned slightly. The boy’s body was filled with the power and vitality of a young fighter. Haytham’s body, although far from useless, had nevertheless passed its’ peak.
There were more similarities between father and son as well, Haytham noted while getting dressed in front of the dusty, cracked old mirror propped up in a corner of the room. Connor and he shared the same large hands with long, blunt fingers. Connor’s face was shaped similarly to his own. Haytham could see parts of himself in the shape of Connor’s jaw and the set of the boy’s mouth. They even had similar lips, for goodness sake! Yet Haytham could also see Ziio in Connor’s soft brown eyes, in his thick dark hair and bronze skin. He’d never admit it, but Haytham missed Ziio. He’d missed her every single day since he left her side. And here he’d somehow gotten stuck in the body of his son, the living, breathing product of their union. He tried hard not to think about how very, very wrong that was.
Haytham looked over at his son, still asleep on the floor. It was disconcerting, to say the least, to see his body in slumber like this – half-naked, curled up into a ball, graying hair slipping free of its’ tie fall across Connor’s (Haytham’s) cheek. He looked so peaceful asleep, with an expression of calm on his face. It was as if all the fighting, killing, and bloodshed Haytham had experienced and witnessed for most of his life had never happened. The Templar grandmaster wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Did he always look like this when he slept, or was it just because Connor currently inhabited his body?
Haytham didn’t bother to wake Connor up as he opened the window and leapt out. The boy would only be difficult and start arguments again with his many questions and doubts. He wanted some time to himself in order to process his thoughts. And Haytham needed to buy new clothes as well. He and Connor had taken most of theirs off last night before going to sleep, as the inn was filthy and smelly enough without having to wear things that were covered in bile. The boy had probably completely ruined what had been a perfectly good waistcoat.
Haytham was relieved to find that moving about in Connor’s body was fairly easy. Since Connor was still young, Haytham found he could use the kind of speed and strength that his body had lost with age, moving swiftly across rooftops and scaling walls with ease. He briefly felt sorry for his son, who’d undoubtedly gotten the raw end of the deal by getting stuck in an older body. Haytham wondered what sorts of things he could do with his keen mind, sharp with age and experience, when paired with a young, strong body.
He heard a child cry up from the street, “Look Mommy, there’s a man on the roof! What’s he doing up there?”
Haytham quickly went behind a chimney, cursing himself for having been so careless in the novelty of Connor’s body as to be spotted by a child. The girl’s mother must have caught a glimpse of him too, though, because Haytham heard her respond: “Oh, that’s just a savage man, dear. They do strange things sometimes. Don’t mind him, I’m sure the militia will take care of it.”
Haytham frowned. The woman’s words stung, and the fact that no one would have dared to speak to Haytham like that if he were in his body didn’t make it any better. He remembered the innkeeper’s words from last night about savages and half-breeds. Did Connor have to put up with this sort of thing every day? Perhaps Haytham had gotten a rawer deal than he’d first thought.
--
Haytham reached a general store just as it was opening, and selected a few shirts and breeches from their rather pitiful stock. The clothes were cheaply made and rather plain, but in this case beggars couldn’t be choosers. He paid the shop’s owner using Connor’s money – it was only fair, after Connor had handed over all of Haytham’s money to that bloody innkeeper woman. He was surprised at how much Connor had on him. There had to be at least a few hundred pounds in the boy’s purse, maybe even more. Haytham wondered where Connor had gotten it all. Had he stolen the money? Did Achilles give it to him? He resolved to ask upon returning to the inn.
On his way back, Haytham had used his second sight to check for enemies twice out of habit, before he realized that being able to use it at all right now meant that Connor also possessed Eagle Vision. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised – after all, one of the few things known about the strange ability was that it was passed down through the male family line. He’d used Eagle Vision last night too, now that he thought about it, although it hadn’t registered amidst his shock and panic. Using his second sight to periodically check his surroundings had become second nature to Haytham over the years, so much so that slipping in and out of it was ingrained into him like a reflex. It was a useful skill to have. He wondered how often the boy used it, or if he was even aware of the ability at all without a father to tell him…
Haytham felt a brief pang of guilt at that last thought, but it was quickly smothered upon reaching the inn and seeing Connor halfway out of the open window, clearly preparing to leap out onto the nearby rooftop. In Haytham’s body. Haytham’s half-naked body. The boy clearly hadn’t wanted to put the waistcoat back on.
“What are you doing, boy?!” He hissed, leaping forward and bodily dragging Connor away from the window. The two of them tumbled backwards, landing in a heap on the hard wooden floor of their room. A few grunts and muffled curses were uttered as the two disentangled themselves and got back to their feet.
“What in bloody hell were you doing, Connor?!” Haytham cried. “You could have – ” He abruptly stopped. Telling Connor, “You could have injured my body,” was probably not the most…tactful thing to say, given the circumstances. “You could have been hurt,” he said instead.
“I was going to look for you!” Connor yelled back. “Last night you were talking about how we needed to start looking for the crystal first thing in the morning, and then when I wake up, you are not here! What was I supposed to do, sit here in the inn and hope you came back?”
“That was exactly what you were supposed to do! I only went out to get some decent clothing for us to wear. I couldn’t have been gone for more than an hour, and you were already prepared to go running about New York half-dressed! What do you think that would have looked like to the general public?”
Connor’s (Haytham’s) eyes narrowed, and his (Haytham’s) mouth turned downwards in contempt. “Yes, father,” he said, voice full of quiet anger. “I would hate to have damaged the body and ruined the reputation of a proper Englishman, obviously.”
“Connor…” Haytham trailed off as the Assassin turned and went to stand in front of the window at the other side of the room, his back to Haytham, one hand running through Haytham’s hair in a clear sign of irritation. “Oh fine, be a petulant child, then. At least put some clothes on.” Haytham tossed a pair of breeches and a shirt in Connor’s direction, before changing out of the boy’s Assassin robes himself.
Connor reluctantly picked up the clothes. They would be better than going around in just Haytham’s breeches, at least. As he put them on, Connor couldn’t help but notice the many scars that littered his father’s body. Haytham’s stomach was crisscrossed in a myriad of lines from swords and knives. The puckered flesh just above his right pectoral appeared to be from a bullet wound. The pink scar tissue on Haytham’s right shin looked like a stab wound, and Connor could feel part of a very long, raised scar on the Templar’s back as well. He glanced quickly over at Haytham, who was currently yanking on a pair of breeches. How long had his father been a Templar, Connor wondered. What sorts of things had he done? Haytham obviously felt strongly for the Templar Order and its’ cause, strongly enough to leave Ziio and her unborn child for them. What had enticed the man over to their side?
“Alright,” Haytham said, effectively breaking Connor out of his thoughts. “We need to start looking for the crystal.”
“Obviously,” Connor muttered. Haytham glared at him.
“Don’t interrupt me, child. Now, you should go down to the docks by the harbor. They’re a hive of gossip. Anything new or interesting item in the city, like that crystal, is bound to get noticed and talked about at the docks. Poke around, listen to people’s conversations, and see what you can uncover. And for God’s sake, be discreet! We don’t need you blundering about like you were when we were trying to find Church.”
“And what will you be doing, father?” Connor asked, with a pointed glare at Haytham. He was at the end of his patience with Haytham constantly ordering him about and demanding that he do things. This time, Connor wanted to make sure that he wasn’t the one stuck doing all the dirty work.
“Never you mind,” Haytham said, casually waving his hand in dismissal. “Just get going, and - ”
“No,” Connor interrupted. He couldn’t believe that Haytham had the gall to order his son around while occupying said son’s body. That smarmy, holier-than-thou attitude of his was definitely not something Connor was happy about seeing in his own body. “Either you tell me what you are planning to do today, or I really will go around town naked today. And I won’t just stick to the rooftops, either.”
Haytham went visibly pale at the thought. “Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “If you must know, I’m going back to the alleyway we woke up in last night. It’s the last place we saw the crystal, after all, and I want to check the area thoroughly. There may be some clues as to what happened to the crystal there.”
Connor nodded his assent, and Haytham inwardly marveled at just how easy it was to get the boy to believe him. Did his son’s naivete know no bounds? Achilles Davenport must be a poor teacher indeed, if his student was still this gullible.
“I suppose we should be leaving now, then?” Connor reached out for his bow and quiver, both of which Haytham had propped up against the bed before going to sleep.
“Are you mad, Connor?” You can’t take those with you! In case you haven’t noticed, the people of New York do not regularly carry Native weapons with them. You’ll only attract attention this way.”
“So you would have me go unarmed?” Connor said through gritted teeth. Inwardly, he chafed at how Haytham spoke to him, as if Connor was an idiot who didn’t know any better, and not a Master Assassin deserving of respect.
“We’re doing undercover work today, child, not going into a fight. I believe that just bringing along our hidden blades should suffice for today. Unless, of course, you believe yourself so incompetent that you require a full arsenal of weaponry with you at all times?”
Connor didn’t trust himself to speak at the moment, he was so angry. The Assassin reached past Haytham and picked his bracers up off of the rotting hunk of wood masquerading as a storage chest in the corner. He made especially sure that they were his bracers and not Haytham’s before putting them on. Connor already felt uncomfortable enough in Haytham’s body; he didn’t need to be using his father’s weapons as well.
“We meet back here at noon to plan further,” Haytham said as he put on his bracers. Without so much as wishing Connor luck, he leapt out of the still open window and was gone.
Connor growled angrily and punched the bed, his (Haytham’s) fist going straight through the mattress to its’ straw stuffing. It seemed that only Haytham could drive him to the point of feeling angry enough to throttle the first living thing he saw. As he leapt out the window and over the rooftops towards the docks, Connor wondered how in the world he was going to survive being stuck around (and in!) Haytham. He fervently hoped that they found the strange glowing crystal soon, or else he might go mad.
Re: Fill: Body Swap Part 4b/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-20 07:25 am (UTC)(link)--
Rebecca Swan wandered amongst the various stalls and tables that made up New York’s haphazard open-air market. She wasn’t looking to buy anything, really – as the only daughter of Edward Swan, an incredibly wealthy merchant with connections in the lucrative spice trade, Rebecca was very spoiled. Her father could have the most fashionable clothes and jewelry in the world ordered for her from the most popular European shops. The cap Rebecca was wearing right now, embroidered with satin ribbons and lace, had recently been ordered from a well-known Parisian boutique frequented by many members of the upper class.
No, Rebecca did not go to the open-air market to buy things, but to look. As long as one could stomach the smell of raw fish that permeated the air near the city’s harbor, there were all sorts of weird and wonderful things people had on display. Describing these items to her friends was something Rebecca enjoyed immensely, and ensured that she would be the center of attention at any social gathering.
Just then, a man bumped into Rebecca, causing the girl to lose her footing and very nearly topple over. “Terribly sorry, miss,” the man said, grabbing hold of Rebecca’s arm and helping to right her. “I do hope you’re alright.” He offered her an apologetic little bow.
The man was dressed in a rather plain waistcoat and breeches, and was very clearly of a lower class, so Rebecca was prepared to thank him briefly for his assistance and move on. But then, she caught a glimpse of something clutched tightly in the man’s hand, something that caught the afternoon light and shimmered enticingly. Rebecca was instantly curious. No one ever sold anything extremely valuable at the market; it would have been an easy target for theft. What was this man doing with jewelry on him at a place like this?
“It’s fine. Thank you for your help,” Rebecca said. A little politeness went a long way in getting what one wanted, she’d learned over the years. “Sir, if I may be so bold as to inquire, what is that you’re holding there?”
“Oh…this?” The man looked Rebecca up and down quickly, as if sizing her up. Nodding to himself, he opened his hand and revealed the most beautiful thing Rebecca had ever seen in her life.
It was a piece of glass – or maybe crystal, Rebecca wasn’t too sure – that had been shaped into a flawless replica of a human skull. Clearly it was the work of a master craftsman, as every single detail down to the teeth looked flawless. The beautiful workmanship had turned what would have otherwise been morbid and horrible into a work of art. The skull’s empty eye sockets glittered up at her, and Rebecca knew that she had to have it. She’d never wanted anything in her life as much as she wanted the skull this man currently had. “Where…where did you get this?” She breathed.
“That’s neither here nor there, miss,” the man said, suddenly all business. “If you’re interested, I’m selling it for five hundred pounds. No more, no less.”
Normally, Rebecca would have been suspicious of a man who had something of such obvious value as that skull, when he clearly couldn’t have afforded it. But at the moment, Rebecca didn’t care. She wanted that skull in her possession, and she wanted it now. Who cared if the man had stolen it? She would be its’ owner soon enough.
“What’s your name, sir?” Rebecca asked.
“Carter, miss. Tom Carter.”
“Well, Mr. Carter, I don’t suppose you could bring that skull to the address of 78 Broad Street this evening, perhaps a little after six? My father, Edward Swan, should be home around then. He can pay you for it.”
Tom Carter’s eyes widened. “Edward Swan? You mean the merchant, Edward Swan, right? The rich one?”
“The one and only,” Rebecca said loftily. It was really quite handy, the way her father’s name could open so many doors and possibilities. “I’m his daughter, Rebecca.”
“Of…of course, miss! I’ll be there at a quarter after sharp!” Tom’s eyes were practically bulging out of his skull with shock. He probably couldn’t believe the stroke of good fortune he’d just come into, Rebecca thought. She watched him practically skip out of the market with a small smile on her face. He’d obviously gotten what he wanted today.
Rebecca headed back towards the direction of home herself. Now she just had to convince her father to buy the skull when Tom showed up. Five hundred pounds was not a cheap sum by any stretch of the imagination, but Rebecca was sure that a little wheedling and pouting would work. It always had before, after all. Then, that lovely little skull would be hers. Oh, wouldn’t Rebecca’s friends all be terribly jealous when they saw it!
--
I plan on cleaning this up and posting it on FF.net after I've finished it here on the meme. When that time comes, I'll post a link to it in this thread. The unfinished HTML in the earlier part annoys me, I wish I could go back and fix it here. >< Ah well.
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-01-20 05:32 pm (UTC)(link)On one hand, I really want them to intercept Tom and have something go right for them, but on the other, I want to watch them suffer. I'M AN EVIL ANON. >_<
Keep up the wonderful work, write-anon! You spoil me, you really do!
<3<3<3
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-01-20 05:29 pm (UTC)(link)<3 <3 <3
Fill: Body Swap Part 5/?
(Anonymous) 2013-02-02 05:58 am (UTC)(link)---
Haytham obviously did not return to the alleyway to check for the precursor artifact. If it hadn’t been there last night, it certainly wouldn’t be there now. No, today Haytham’s business was with his own Order. Specifically, it was with Church, or what remained of him, anyway. After the corrupt doctor had been…disposed of, a few well-placed bribes and threats to the sailors on Church’s ship had ensured that the man’s personal effects would be transported to Templar headquarters at the Green Dragon Inn. Hopefully, Haytham would find some clue in them as to where Church had found the Skull. Once he found its place of origin, perhaps Haytham could also figure out a way of harnessing its power. Then, he could fix the mess he and Connor were currently stuck in, as well as gain a powerful tool for the Templars.
Haytham leapt nimbly from rooftop to rooftop, dashing around chimneys and over scaffolding, unseen by the people milling about on the streets below. He came across one lone rooftop guard along the way, who was quickly disposed of with a firm stab of the hidden blade between his ribs. The guard hadn’t even noticed Haytham before his end had come. He couldn’t help but marvel at how gracefully Connor’s body moved, how the boy’s strong and powerful muscles carried him quickly along. So much potential, and yet his son chose to waste his time with the Assassins. It was such a pity.
Before long, Haytham had reached his destination. He surveyed the building carefully, slipping from shadow to shadow in the streets around the inn, climbing along windowsills and across rough, uneven brick edifices. It was going to be difficult to sneak inside, as Haytham had suspected. He’d ordered his fellow Templars to guard the building covertly, yet carefully, against possible attack by Assassins. A Templar was situated casually next to every window. Two people were seated by each of the inn’s doors. To the casual observer they appeared to be playing games of Fanorona and Nine Men’s Morris, but their eyes were focused on the entrances they were guarding. Haytham felt a mixture of pride and frustration at seeing the Green Dragon so well protected. Pride at the diligence of his Templar underlings at their duties, but frustration at not being able to easily access Church’s things.
Unfortunately (or fortunately, in Haytham’s particular situation) the Templar defense was not foolproof. There was only one guard on the building’s roof, a young lad who looked to be half-asleep on the sun-warmed shingles. He didn’t even notice as Haytham climbed up and landed lightly next to him, only opening his eyes when he felt Haytham’s (Connor’s) large, heavy hands wrapped around his throat and squeezing, hard. The boy’s eyes bulged at the pressure, his face turning slowly white, then blue. The young Templar opened his mouth to scream, but only a few gasping, wheezing breaths came out before he slumped in Haytham’s grip, unconscious. He’d have bruises around his neck for a few days, but would be otherwise fine upon waking. Haytham would never willingly kill one of his own, after all.
Haytham leapt atop the chimney and peered down through the grate. It was just wide enough for him to travel down, as long as he was careful. Eagle Vision didn’t reveal any telltale spots of color in the room below. He groaned inwardly, and began prying the chimney grate off with his hidden blade. Haytham had sneaked into places via chimney before, in his long and illustrious career as a Templar, but he hated doing so. It was terribly claustrophobic, and one always ended up covered in soot afterwards.
He laboriously worked his way down the chimney as fast as he could, breathing a sigh of relief upon dropping quietly down the last few feet into the fireplace and rolling out in a puff of old cinders. Now it would only be a matter of sneaking quietly up a flight of stairs, grabbing Church’s things, and getting the hell out of the Green Dragon. Yes, Haytham was quite pleased with how well this was going so far.
Just as Haytham had gotten to his feet, the door opened and a girl walked in. She was someone Haytham vaguely recognized as a new Templar recruit, though her name escaped him. It didn’t matter anyway; what was important now was making sure that she wasn’t able to alert the others to his presence. He rushed forward and had just gotten his (Connor’s) hands around her throat when the girl’s mouth opened and she screamed, “ASSASSIN! HELP! ASSASSIN!”
Haytham heard the thundering of quite a few pairs of boots in the corridor and on the stairwell before no less than nine other Templars had crowded around the doorway where their grandmaster stood frozen, hands still locked around the girl’s throat but making no move to apply pressure. Four of them pointed their revolvers at his head, and the others immediately drew their swords and knives. Haytham could see the frightened and curious faces of some of the Green Dragon’s patrons peeking out from behind the group of angry Templars.
He couldn’t fight this many people. Not when he was in such close quarters, and not while in a body he was only slightly familiar with. He briefly debated telling the others who he was, but quickly dismissed that idea. There was no way they’d believe him. Only Haytham’s Inner Circle knew of the existence of the precursor artifacts, and they were all dead, except for Charles.
Haytham muttered the foulest words he knew under his breath as he slowly released the girl’s throat and even more slowly raised his hands into the air. “I’ll come with you quietly,” he said. “Just let me speak to your Grandmaster, when he arrives.”
He could only hope that Connor would be able to track him down before the other Templars decided to kill him. It was at times like this that Haytham wished he’d sat down with Johnson to write a will while the man was still alive.
---
Connor had been wandering around the docks for twenty minutes, eavesdropping on sailors downing pint after pint of ale in the pubs and gossiping ladies browsing the marketplace stalls. The most interesting thing he’d heard so far was about the new shipment of fancy scented soaps that had just come in from France. Not a word had been spoken about Haytham’s mysterious crystal, and Connor was beginning to get nervous. What if the wretched thing hadn’t been picked up after all? Maybe it had simply rolled away and was sitting at the bottom of a gutter somewhere, or worse, had somehow flowed out to the bottom of the harbor with the rest of the city’s garbage…
Connor refused to think about what he would do if he was stuck in Haytham’s body forever. It was far from weak or powerless, but Connor could nevertheless feel the slow, creeping effects of age starting to take their toll. Traveling over the rooftops had taken just a tad more energy than Connor was used to, had required a bit more force behind his jumps, and left him more breathless than usual upon arriving at the docks. Connor worried about what would happen if he needed to fight in this body for a prolonged period of time.
We will find it, the Assassin thought firmly to himself, echoing Haytham’s words from last night. Surely news of the crystal would surface after a few days of searching, and then this whole horrible mess would only be a bad memory. After all, what was the worst that could happen in that time?
The worst happened when a boy who looked to be around Connor’s age or perhaps a little younger caught his eye from across the street and ran up to him. Connor was halfway into a fighting stance before the boy spoke, his voice filled with quiet urgency, “Master Kenway, sir! We’ve found him!”
Connor’s mind went blank. All he could do was blink at the boy standing in front of him, face flushed with excitement, who obviously believed him to be Haytham. “Uh…” was all that came out of his mouth.
“Oh, sorry, sir,” the boy said with a sheepish grin. “I forgot.” He leaned in a bit closer, causing Connor to flinch slightly back. He’d never liked it when people invaded his personal space, something Europeans seemed to do far too frequently. “May the Father of Understanding guide us,” the boy whispered. “We’ve caught the Assassin. The half-savage, the one that’s been ruining all our plans. The one that killed most of your top men, sir.”
The force of this information hit Connor with all the force of a rampaging wild elk. He actually staggered back half a step from the shock, before quickly composing himself. A million thoughts ran wild through his mind. The Templars had caught an Assassin? And the “half-savage” one, apparently…they had to have caught Haytham. But how? Haytham was supposed to be one of the most talented fighters either side had seen in years. Did they know…? No, the Templars couldn’t know, or else they’d be out in force trying to kill him right now.
“We’re holding the Assassin at headquarters now, awaiting your orders. I was sent to fetch you as quick as I could, and…are you feeling alright, Master Kenway?” The boy’s face took on a look of concern at seeing Connor’s (Haytham’s) face pale and eyes wide with shock.
“Fine,” Connor mumbled, schooling his (Haytham’s) face back into what he hoped was a calm expression. This was the last thing he needed right now, on top of everything else. “Can you bring me to where he is being held, er…?” Connor trailed off as he realized that he had no idea what the boy’s name was.
“Jackson, sir. Will Jackson,” the boy said, still looking a bit confused. “With all due respect, sir, are you sure you’re alright? Your voice sounds a bit funny…”
Connor tried his best to channel Haytham and make his next words sound as commanding and English as possible. “Never you mind, just lead me to the Assassin already! Now!”
“Right away, Master Kenway, sir!” Will said. He turned and started clambering hand over hand up onto the nearest roof, with Connor right at his heels. Only one thought ran through the Assassin’s mind as he followed Will across the rooftops and facades of buildings:
Father, just what have you been doing?
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-02-02 12:42 pm (UTC)(link)...Oh, Haytham, you really need to stop being so secretive. It's only going to get you in more trouble. I'm sure Connor isn't going to be very pleased when he sees Haytham again.
Don't worry about the delay, anon, your education is important! Thank you for taking the time to fill! :)
Re: Fill: Body Swap Part 5/?
(Anonymous) 2013-02-09 06:31 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Body Swap Part 5/?
(Anonymous) 2013-02-22 12:45 pm (UTC)(link)