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The Martian, Earth or Bust, Part 3 :iconsir-talen:Sir-Talen 0 0
Mature content
The Martian: Earth or Bust: Part 2 :iconsir-talen:Sir-Talen 0 2
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The Martian: Homeward Bound :iconsir-talen:Sir-Talen 0 0
Literature
Judy's Recovery: Baker's Mammal
Judy looked down at the slice of warm apple pie on her plate, a scoop of ice cream nestled beside it, and worried her incisors against her lower lip. “Maybe I shouldn’t have this,” she said.
Nick looked up from his own slice of apple pie, mouth already full with a bite, and mumbled around it, “Y’ gonna inshult t’ chef like ‘at?” He nodded towards Gideon Grey, who was whistling happily as he filled a cherry pie with filling behind the counter of his bakery. Judy was sitting with Nick at one of the small tables set near the front window of the shop, for customers coming in for a quick snack. He swallowed and continued, “Besides, you earned this reward.”
She had actually. Judy had jogged the six miles or so from the farm to the edge of town, huffing and sucking on a water bottle as Nick kept pace with her. It had been her furthest sustained run since she’d come back home four months ago. Better still, she’d finished i
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Literature
Dragon Mom: Sir Simon
The argument between the barbarian and the knight seemed to finally reach a conclusion, with the barbarian walking off grumpily, his paperwork balled up in his first. The knight in the white enameled armor nodded in satisfaction, walking up towards the mouth of the cave, halting about halfway up the slope leading to the entrance. He doffed his helm and Miriam saw that he appeared to be an older man, perhaps in his early sixties, with neatly trimmed grey beard framing a round, grandfatherly face.
“Oh, Great Dragon of the Green Hills,” he bellowed in an impressive baritone, one hand resting on the butt of his sword. “I, Sir Simon of the Broken Lands, call you forth to engage me in single combat, for the life of the innocent maiden you hold in your clutches.”
“Is he serious?” Miriam asked the dragon, finishing the last of her popcorn.
“Yes, but don’t worry. He means well,” the dragon reassured her. She stood up from her relaxed sitting
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Literature
Dragon Mom, Part Two
She didn’t actually have a name. Indeed, she would have been insulted if she’d been told she needed one. “The Dragon of the Green Hills” was a lovely title, and it fit her perfectly. Well, if you wanted to get really technical about she was A Dragon of the Green Hills, but her son would earn his own title in time, assuming he didn’t accidentally spear himself on the end of some poor knight’s lance before he grew old enough for his own cave.
Another half-century and I can kick him out to find a home of his own, she reminded herself. She loved her son, but she’d be the first to admit that sometimes he didn’t have the sense of a cow, looking up into the rain with its mouth agape and wondering why it was drowning.
She sighed and shook her carriage sized head, trying to shake off her mood. It had been over seven years since someone had offered up a princess for her to kidnap. Seven years of dutifully patrolling the kingdom during
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Literature
Dragon Mom, REBOOT
It was getting awfully cold, Gilly thought. Here she was, wearing her best party dress and tiara, standing in the middle of the front lawn, at midnight, chained to a post, and the blasted dragon was late.
She gave the chains desultory tug, then unlatched her right wrist and scratched her nose before resecuring herself. It was midnight under a full moon, and she was a princess. The dragon had to show up, those were the rules.
I’ll give it ten more minutes and then I’m calling it a night, Gilly thought irritably, feeling the chill wind blow against her dress, her silk slippers growing damp and cold in the dew covered grass. She should have brought a shawl just in case, but it had seemed to clash with the whole “Princess Waiting to Be Devoured” thing. It had been hard enough to convince Daddy to mount this ugly pole in the middle of their nice, manicured lawn. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to the Look he’d give he
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Mature content
Judy's Recovery, the Next Morning :iconsir-talen:Sir-Talen 3 3
Literature
Judy's Recovery, the Midnight Hour
TWO AM
The hours between Midnight and the grey predawn light had always been a magic time for Nick. Three quarters of Zootopia would be asleep, leaving it to the nocturnal animals like bats, raccoons and foxes. The street lights would be dimmed, and the shadows would lengthen. Sometimes Nick could walk for hours up and down the streets without seeing another soul, but knowing they were there, watching. It was something no daylight oriented mammal could really understand, that feeling in the air, the knowledge that there was a second Zootopia, occupying the same physical space as the sunlit one but so profoundly different in many ways.
Tonight for example, he’d taken a long walk to the tarmac two-lane road leading into town, only turning around when he’d reached the outskirts of town, listening to the crickets chirp in the grass and the occasional hoot of an owl. Then he turned back, whistling to himself and walked around the house to the back porch to catch a few win
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Literature
Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (2017)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (2017)
  
 By Royce Day
 
 
 
 Dramatis Persona
  
Santa Claus   (Beloved Mythological Figure)                 John Goodman
Mrs. Claus     (Beloved Wife of Same)                              ?
King Kimar   (the King of Mars)                                        Liam Neeson
Queen Aelita     
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Literature
Review: Three by Spoor
Just some quick, slightly spoilery reviews on three novels by Ryk E. Spoor that I’ve been delaying writing while I Dealt With Things.
Spheres of Influence: The second book in Spoor’s <A href=https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B06Y6F3K3L?ref=series_rw_dp_labf>Grand Central Arena  series finds our heroine Ariane Austin facing with an enemy she is ill equipped to deal with, government bureaucrats. This book expands on the GCA universe quite a bit, showing the reaction back in Earth’s solar system as humanity finds itself in a first contact situation with the Arena’s many races, which range from hostile to nominally friendly, but all with their own agendas. We also get more details on the Hyperion Project, which produced the series’ literally designated antihero Dr. Marc Duquesne. In this novel we’re also introduced to Sun WuKong, another of Hyperion’s attempts to recreate the heroes of literature other media, plus one Hyperio
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Literature
Judy's Recovery, Married to the Mob
Judy was sitting on a carved log stump in the backyard, diligently doing her ten (and only ten, on pain of Nick’s snark) forearm curls with a two-pound dumbbell, when her mom came up to her, bearing a pitcher of lemonade and a pair of cups on a tray.
“What’s up, Mom?” she asked, setting the dumbbell down.
Bonnie set the tray on a second nearby stump, then pulled up another to sit beside her. “Oh, just checking up on you. How’s your arm?”
Judy rubbed her shoulder and grimaced. “Weak. I’m working on it.” She looked closer at Bonnie’s troubled expression and lowered ears. “Something on your mind?”
“Judy, how do you know that Mr. Big person?” she asked, her voice serious. She began pouring out a cup lemonade and handed it to Judy.
“Like I told you, he’s a prominent Zootopian businessmammal,” Judy said, taking the cup from her and sipping as she tried to come up with an innocuo
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Literature
Starcrash Theme
"Starcrash Theme" (music: "Believe it or Not")
Look at what's happened to me-e,
I couldn't believe it myself.
My agent signed the contract unseen
Wish it were somebody else!
CHORUS
    Believe it or not, I'm not William Katt
    He's got far too much digni-ty-y-y
    Wish I could run, from this dog a film
    Who could it be?
    It's not William Katt, it's just me.

It's an Italian Star Wars clone,
With none of the budget or skill
I'm playing a smug, stuck-up  Obi-Wan
With a curly blond perm that could kill.
CHORUS
I'm co-stars with a robot from Tex-as,
And Caroline Munro's massive chest
Hasslehoff's got top billing on screen
For just the fifteen minutes he's seen!
CHORUS
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Literature
GURPS Red Vixen Adventures: Technologies
Tech Level: In general the G:RVA tech level is TL9-11, following the Safe-Tech path (p. UT10), with some gravity related superscience additions.
Power: Fusion reactors are the most common large scale power generators. Large ground vehicles, ocean going ships, or anti-gravity skimmers use the Semi-Portable Fusion Reactor (p. UT20) for power. Smaller or slower vehicles use battery power or hydrogen fuel cells. Almost every home is hooked into the local fusion power grid, with supplemental solar cells on the roof for backup.
Computers: The most common computer PC’s will use is the “palm comp” a Small, Complexity 5 computer the size of a modern smartphone. Commonly it comes with a holographic projection system that can project a man sized moving image that users can interact with to a limited degree, though the resolution is not high enough to usually fool observers that an image is a solid object (+2 to Perception checks).
True creative AI’s do
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Literature
Terinu: Mother's Day, Prologue
 
SCENE: We start in medias res inside Lord Dark’s Air Fortress. The animation style looks to be the height of mid-1980’s syndicated cartoons.
Assuming it was done by Filmation.
Towards the end of the season.
When the budget was getting a bit tight.
Two WAZAGANS, NEZ the TECHNOMAGE and CHEEKO the PIRATE-NINJA, run down the hallway, pursued by SIR ANIMOSITY and several ROBO-CRUSADERS. The two wazagans skid to a halt as they reach a dead end.
SIR ANIMOSITY: Halt! There’s no escape for you now!
The Robo-Crusaders begin firing their LASER LANCES. Nez slaps her palms together and an ENERGY SHIELD manifests from her left bracelet.
NEZ: [Silver Shield, protect!]
Note: Dialog in [brackets] indicates it’s in unsubtitled Arabic.
NEZ: [Great! Now
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Literature
RVA Commitment Bands
Description: Commitment bands are the most common form of display of one’s marriage status on Foxen Prime, owing primarily to their use by followers of the Mother Goddess. Their origins are obscure, but date back to at least -4,000 PS (Pre-Spaceflight), going by the famous tile mosaics found in ruins of the Foxen Bronze Age city of Riverguard
A commitment band is commonly a silver or gold wrist cuff, usually about a half-centimeter thick and two to six centimeters wide, worn by both (or all, depending) spouses. Pearl inlays are common, and almost without exception both spouses’ names and the date of their wedding are engraved upon them, occasionally with a prayer to the Mother Goddess for long and fruitful lives.
What sets commitment bands apart from something like human wedding rings is a certain higher, er, binding nature. Bands are typically locking, with the key one’s band being held in trust by their spouse. Sometimes the locks are symbolic and the bands e
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Reminder: The Red Vixen at Sea is now available for purchase for US$2.99 exclusively at Amazon! Please buy and review!

So, in terms of villainous bombast, who would win: Aku or Doctor Doom?

My money is on Aku, both because he's hilariously over the top Evil, and avoids any "Pet the Dog" moments that would soften his character.

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LOG ENTRY
MISSION DAY 710

 
I’ve been moving around more. Beck was satisfied enough with the state of my health that he’s allowed me to start walking without supervision, though I’m still stuck in the habitation segment of the Hermes’ carousel. 0.3G or not, he and Lewis don’t want me climbing ladders to the hub to transit to the other segments, a necessity since for safety reasons they aren’t directly connected into a single pressure vessel, until I’m more healed up. It’s making me a bit stir crazy, I’ll admit. Together the pressurized areas of the Hermes aren’t that much bigger than the Hab back on Mars, so I’m stuck in ¼ of that until further notice.
 
In other news I celebrated Christmas today. Sorta. I know it’s June, but if this had been a normal mission then we would have celebrated the holiday while in transit back to Earth, so NASA made sure to include Christmas presents in our personal items weight allotment. Actually everyone else celebrated the holiday when Hermes left Mars the first time, but as you can imagine it was a pretty sorry affair, what with me being presumed dead and all. They left my own present unopened for obvious reasons, but Beck and Lewis presented it to me today as a celebration for my health milestone.
 
It was a hand knitted sweater from my mom, because (as the note in the box put it) “Space is cold.”
 
I’m gonna wear that sucker every day until we get back.
 
Speaking of clothes, do you have any idea how nice it is to wear clean underwear? Hell, clean anything ? Our pre-supply clothing allotment covered a 31 day surface mission. Which meant I was given a whopping fifteen sets of underwear and pairs of socks for surface ops, plus three sets of shirts and pants, assuming the latter were changed every ten days. I could wear Martinez and Vogel’s clothes as well, even if they didn’t fit great, but NASA didn’t include a clothes washer in the Hab for obvious reasons, and things got seriously skanky even with me trying to scrub clothes in a sample container with hot water from the microwave. I couldn’t even use soap when I washed them, because I had to ration that out for my personal hygiene.
 
Since I got back up to Hermes I’ve been wearing the clothes that I was supposed to wear when the original mission profile said we’d be heading back to Earth after a nice, normal 31 sol ground mission. Which not incidentally means I’m the only one wearing clothes that haven’t been washed six jillion times in the Hermes’ washing machine.
 
Which we no longer have soap for.
 
Needless to say I’m ahead of pretty much everyone else sartorially at this point, especially with my kickin' new sweater. But that’s not the worst of it. At least as a guy I don’t have to worry about certain things that I’m sure have been on Commander Lewis and Johanssen’s mind. Like I said, Iris 2 had food and only food aboard when it when it rendezvoused with Hermes . I haven’t asked what the hell those two are doing to compensate and I ain’t gonna. After surviving so long on Mars, it’d be embarrassing to get spaced by Lewis for asking about the ship’s tampon supply.
 
Actually, come to think of it, that would go for birth control as well. Lewis is faithful to her husband I’m pretty sure, but Johanssen had to have run out of pills months ago. I hope to hell she and Beck are being careful. I mean presumably they’re keeping track, but low gravity can screw up a woman’s period like it throws almost every other bodily function out of whack. It’s not like NASA is going to send a supply of condoms along for the mission just in case.
 
Then again, it is NASA. They prepare for everything.
 
Just checked the ship’s online inventory. Nope. No condoms, and definitely no more tampons.
 
I need to seriously stop thinking about this.
The Martian, Earth or Bust, Part 3
Watney contemplates things most men try very hard not to think about
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LOG ENTRY
MISSION DAY 702


My life for the past five days, while my ribs heal up, has been frighteningly like when I was stuck on Mars, ie: sitting on my ass watching TV. Of course the major difference is I’m watching TV shows that were filmed in this century, instead of Lewis’ endless supply of 70’s crap. I’m sticking mostly to documentaries at the moment. I’m in no mood to feel sad watching a drama, and I super really do not want to laugh while my ribs are still healing.

Side Note: You may be wondering why I didn’t just listen and watch my own music and shows while I was on Mars. Well, the reason why was because I left my datastick in my cabin. I was going down to Mars to work my ass off for thirty-one sols. I thought I was going to be too busy to lay back and watch TV. The irony was not lost on me during my long periods of downtime sitting in the Hab watching Three’s Company.

Right now I’m sharing a cabin with Martinez. We’re in Beck’s, while Beck is with Johansen since Martinez and I’s quarters are unlivable at the moment. I’m glad he and Beth hooked up like I was hoping they would. I’m sure Commander Lewis gave them a bit of shit about it, but given the length of the mission the unresolved sexual tension would have just gotten annoying after a while. Once Beck allows me to start moving around again I’m going to take a crack at fixing that piping between our walls. The Hermes has been without a ship’s engineer for way too long. I know Johansen is my backup for those duties, but between being the ship’s sysop and the reactor tech, I can’t blame her for putting cabin repairs low on her priorities.

In other news, I think I’m finally coming down from the emotional high of being rescued. Or maybe Beck is cutting back on my Vicodin. Anyway I’m losing the fun floating sensation that came with the realization that all the insane plans that had to come together for my rescue actually worked. I have to be luckiest asshole in space since the crew of Apollo 13 had their little accident on the way to the Moon.

Now I have to start thinking about what to do with the rest of my life once we get back to Earth. Seriously, what the hell do you do to top spending a year and a half alone on Mars, and then be successfully rescued? I mean, what did Neil Armstrong do after going to the Moon?

Oh, yeah. He hawked cars for Chrysler. And was a professor of aeronautical engineering, which was also cool.



LOG ENTRY
MISSION DAY 705


Ate the last of the steak today. Guess I’m back to being a vegetarian until we get home. I don’t mind too much. My stomach has finally settled enough that I can be full without feeling like my intestines were going to burst. Those damned protein bars are already starting to get really boring though.

Fuck it, I can take it. I ate potatoes for a year. At least the protein bars have chocolate flavoring.

After I was reduced to an all potato diet, I spent entirely too much time fantasizing about what foods I’d eat when I finally got home. It was a pointless exercise, and probably counted as self-torture, but in a weird sorta way it kept me motivated to continue my survival efforts. Instead of a carrot and a stick to keep me going it was meat and a stick. Or maybe meat on a stick. Steak on a Stake was one of my favorite things to eat at the Michigan RenFaire back when I was a kid.

I swear to God, when I get on the ground I’m going to order the greasiest, bacon and cheese slathered burger in the fucking world.

No fries though.

Seriously, I am done with all potato products. I’m not touching anything even remotely resembling a root vegetable for the rest of my life.  I don’t even want to play with a Mr. Potato Head.
The Martian: Earth or Bust: Part 2
You ever wonder why Mark didn't listen to his own music while stuck on Mars?
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LOG ENTRY

MISSION DAY 701

You’d think after a year and a half of talking to myself I’d be ready to shut the fuck up, but nope. Turns out that the shrinks at NASA want me to keep a running log of my “reintegration experiences” now that I’m back on the Ares with honest to God other human beings to talk to. Apparently there were “some concerns” after they had a chance to read through the log entries I’d copied and brought back with me during that looney rollercoaster ride on the MAV up to Ares.

I’d actually considered leaving it behind in the rover. I didn’t think that the data stick’s miniscule weight, less than five milligrams, would affect the launch, but by that point I was so paranoid about getting the MAV up to escape velocity that I nearly herniated myself taking one last dump before launch in the makeshift toilet I’d made with a sample box. Believe me, it was a deeply satisfying moment to drop that last potatoey turd upon the planet that had given me so much grief. After accomplishing that feat, I figured the datastick wouldn’t be that much of an issue.

Actually, that brings up another thing: You might be wondering what I used for toilet paper after I ran through the supply NASA had sent along in the pre-supply probes. First off, they only sent twelve rolls, one for each of us plus the inevitable emergency backup. That sounds insane, until you realize our Hab toilet also functioned as a bidet, with more gadgets in it than the fancy seats you find in a Japanese hotel. We weren’t expected to use the rolls unless the toilet malfunctioned, or we really had to go while out in the Rover. I used almost all of them up on the Sirius expedition to retrieve Pathfinder.

So what did I do during the long ride from Acidalia Planitia to the Ares 4 MAV? Let me put it to you this way: Hygiene became a severe issue for me after I ran out of soap and alcohol wipes. Thank God the only germs in the Rover were my own.

Okay, I’m getting off track. It’s been four days since I returned to the Ares , I suppose I should bring you up to speed on what’s been happening. While Beck was examining me and taping my ribs, Commander Lewis ordered the ship’s habitation wheel be spun back up to  0.3G rotation. Which was lucky for me, because it gave me the chance to have my first shower since leaving the Hab way back on Sol 449. Four months of scrubbing with just water and a hand towel had left me rather fragrant. It wasn’t quite the same as the hot baths I’d rigged using the RTG back in the Hab, but man it felt good.

Next: Food. Oh my God, food. Once the rest of the crew finished double-checking the ship’s systems to make sure nothing was damaged after Lewis’ emergency decompression trick, they made me a meal , with mixed vegetables and a freeze dried steak that had been sent up on the Iris 2 resupply probe just for me. When the smell of that steak hit my nostrils I thought it was mana from heaven.

Then I had to do my damndest not to barf as I ate. Remember, this was the first meal I had that was over 1500 calories since I’d started rationing way back on Sol 7. Just trying to finish it made me feel like my stomach was going to explode, never mind the overwhelming tastes and smells of something that was Not Potatoes. I think I got through a quarter of it before I had to push it away and ask Johanssen to put it back in the galley fridge. I felt kinda bad, since we were all together for the first time in a year and a half, having a meal together to celebrate my rescue. Beck figured it out quick though, and gave me some antacids to settle my stomach down before I embarrassed myself.

I’m actually rationing out that steak. Since the Iris 2 had to be carrying food for the entire crew, rather than just myself, most of the supply was the same protein bars that had caused so much trouble on the first Iris launch. I want to enjoy the taste of meat as long as I can.

After that we sat and watched listened to audio message the president sent us, congratulating our crew for the incredible rescue, showing a fine example of human determination, blah, blah, blah. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t listening it much. Aside from my stomach bothering me it just felt so damned good to be with everyone again that I was kinda spacing out.

Then Johanssen uploaded a video message to my personal laptop. I took it back to Beck’s room cum medical suite and watched it. It was from my parents, recorded just after Commander Lewis sent confirmation that I was safely aboard. It says something about NASA’s priorities that they reserved the bandwidth for a full video message for my parents, and had the President make do with an MP3. Good going guys

Fuck they look tired, and maybe about ten years older than the last time I saw them, just before the ferry launch from Cape Canavaral up to the Ares. They both said congratulations and how much they’re looking forward to seeing me when I come home. I sent an email back letting them know I’m okay. Beck advised me against sending any video. After looking at myself in the mirror I gotta agree. No sense in scaring the shit out them by showing off my cool zombie cosplay. I really do look like one of the walking dead, what with yellow teeth and sunken cheekbones and pain lines from all the shit I went through during the launch.

By the time I get back it’s going to be over three years since they saw me in person. That’s seriously weirding me out.

Jesus fucking Christ I can’t wait to walk on a planet without needing a spacesuit.

The Complete Red Vixen Adventures is now available for pre-order in both Kindle ($5.99) and trade paperback ($19.99) for a June 1st. 2017 release.

Since 2011 readers have enjoyed the adventures of the Darktail family and their entanglements with the vivacious space pirate, the Red Vixen. Now this brand new collection gathers all the major stories in the series Captive of the Red Vixen, Shadow of the Red Vixen, Shadow of Her Sins, Shadow of Doubt, The Red Vixen at Sea and I Fought the Claw and the Claw Won, plus two never before published short stories "Solstice Gifts" and "The Parable of the Glassblower" along with an appendix featuring fun world building notes.

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Sir-Talen's Profile Picture
Sir-Talen
Royce Day
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I'm a 40 something amateur writer with a half dozen original stories and collections available at Amazon www.amazon.com/Royce-Day/e/B00… and Smashwords www.smashwords.com/profile/vie… and entirely too much fanfic based on Peta Hewitt's Terinu webcomic.

FYI Llama badges shall be ignored.

Current Residence: Columbia, MD
deviantWEAR sizing preference: Large
Favourite genre of music: Rock & Roll
Operating System: Windows XL
MP3 player of choice: Phillips
Skin of choice: The one keeping all my organs inside my body
Personal Quote: "Do we have any idea what to do for dinner?"
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:iconmarine2622:
Marine2622 Featured By Owner 9 hours ago
What do foxen think of earth foxes?
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:iconrubbervixen:
rubbervixen Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2017
Happy Birthday!
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Fail-Seeker Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2017
Happy Birthday! Try everything: www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6rP-Y…
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Connor18 Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday!
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Chibi-Bony Featured By Owner Sep 5, 2016
Thanks for the watch and Welcome to Chibi's World!
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ZTVFemdomtales Featured By Owner Jun 28, 2016
Thanks for watching
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Catspaw-DTP-Services Featured By Owner Jun 23, 2016  Professional
Thanks for watching! :-)
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oboroten Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2016
Happy birthday!
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rubbervixen Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2016
Happy Birthday!
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Sir-Talen Featured By Owner Mar 24, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you, dear!
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