kitchen_kink: (kate brick)
[Spoilers below for Doctor Who Season 5.]

Just finished watching Season 5 of the new Who, and while I'm enjoying the new folks a great deal, I've been pissed at the writing more than once. Is it just me, or has there been a kind of sea change in the rules of causality? I mean, I know, the science is always super-spotty, but the way Tennant carried it off (wibbly wobbly, timey-wimey) was always funny and, to me at least, believable - or at least I was able to suspend my disbelief. Now it seems like more often than not, the thing that saves the day is the equivalent of people clapping their hands and saying "I believe in fairies!"

Is it just me? I mean, I'm a person who's really into the power of love and memory and belief, but it's not what I expect - or what I've seen - from this show so far, and it's annoying me. Beating Dalek technology with memories of an old girlfriend? Making a time-traveling ship explode with the power of schmoop? Making a Rory-bot real by being really insistent about your love for him? Resurrecting the Doctor from a reboot of the entire universe using Amy's memories?

It seems sappy at best, horribly lazy at worst. Your thoughts?
kitchen_kink: (love)

Four years ago today, [ profile] imlad and I walked into a blazing circle of loved ones and extended community and declared our undying devotion to one another in front of them and the gods. It was kind of an awesome event, the culmination of two and a half years of growing knowledge, love, and trial.

The times since then haven't always been easy. Other loves in our lives have come and gone. We've moved house twice, struggled with our careers, and had periods of closeness alternating with periods of distance.

In other words, we started a marriage.

On this day, though I'm stuck in New York doing my training, I couldn't be happier to declare again to the world how much I love this beautiful, fragile, strong, maddening, brilliant man. And we'll be doing the celebrating when I get back, on Sunday, at the place where he proposed to me.

And I plan to continue doing so, for many years to come.

Happy anniversary, [ profile] imlad, my love.
kitchen_kink: (eggplant)
Post-breakfast love:


Aug. 20th, 2009 11:40 pm
kitchen_kink: (Default)
Yesterday I was grateful for the opportunity to engage with my honey in a new way, and love it.

Today I'm grateful for my girlfriend, and watermelon margaritas, and ice cream.


Aug. 14th, 2009 09:00 pm
kitchen_kink: (love)
Tonight, I am grateful that my sweetie sweetie sweetie is coming home.
kitchen_kink: (conrade)
In a couple of minutes I need to get up and go to callbacks for The Winter's Tale.

And I can't wait.

I seem to always forget how much I love love love doing theatre, especially as a director. It's a huge amount of work and I'm sure I won't be love love loving it during tech week, but for right now, it's the most exciting thing in the universe. I'm reminded why I wanted to do it for a living. I wish that weren't so hard.
kitchen_kink: (snow)
Last year's Yule celebration was raucous and crowded - kids running everywhere, adults playing instruments and telling stories in front of the fire. Our ritual was disrupted a thousand times by the needs and tired behaviors of children. I was exhausted and getting sick, and didn't have a particularly good time tripping over people and feeling a general sense of holiday overwhelm.

In ritual I managed to make a number of commitments, and going over them this year, I found that I'd done rather well at several of them, and abjectly failed at certain others. The lessons of the ones I failed in, however, led me to wiser commitments this year - or so I hope.

There was also the setting of the ritual to guide me. This year, Tapestry Coven decided to have its ritual at our house, hours before the vigil began. We gathered around the living room, by the Christmas tree. There I commited to take more consistent care of my body, to fully engage in whatever creative pursuit I was passionate about at the moment rather than beat myself up for not writing enough, to find the right home for my family, and to step forward more in my spiritual work.

It is enough, and it feels right. They are quiet and humble goals, but good ones.

Last night's vigil, or what I experienced of it, was a quiet and humble vigil, but a good one. Many fewer people than last year. Children less wound up and wandering toward sleep. A steady fire, knitting, reading, telling stories. And [ profile] imlad and I left a little after 2 am, ready to sleep in our own beds and let other witches mind the waking of the sun.

As if to put an exclamation point on our observances, the Solstice weekend arrived with a major winter storm, ensconcing everything in snow. I performed two Christmas concerts, divorced from the specific spiritual observance of the season but moved to soft tears by the power of the music, and the voice of our incredible soloist. The weather pulled in the die-hards, to experience great music in fellowship against the cold and the dark.

Tonight I write this, snug by my Christmas tree on Yule night, cuddling a creature in my lap who is close to death. We huddle together for warmth, for love, for beauty. The specifics, the prayers, the gods, don't matter as much. In the gathering dark, we all reach for the light.

Warmth, light, love and beauty to you all this holiday season.


Jul. 6th, 2008 12:42 am
kitchen_kink: (feathers)
Tonight, a party for a beloved friend and covenmate, held in the house of a beloved ex-. This party, full of my kind of people, rife with the DJ stylings of [ profile] ert, thrumming more softly now (we're all in our thirties now; we're tired at midnight) with the rhythms of dance, the nostalgia of great 80s and 90s music, the halls creeping with cats suspicious of the shoe piles in the hall.

From this party, wearing the same dress and shoes I wore last night, I come home refreshed, slightly tipsy, energized by contact, feeling held and loved.

And off to bed I go, feeling the same things.
kitchen_kink: (Default)
At long last, pictures from the wedding, taken by the inestimable [ profile] mmayhem, are here:

Enjoy, and let me know if you want any of them bigger!
kitchen_kink: (romantic)
Dear Bernie,

Forgive my familiarity. I saw Wings of Desire at the ART in Cambridge on Dec. 17, the matinee performance, and was struck by the light that seemed to emanate from you as the angel, Damiel. The character's longing; his carnal desire without knowledge of carnality; his combined innocence, passion, and long-ranging yet necessarily incomplete understanding of the world - all of it brought me right along with him: that desire to fully experience, to touch the world, to be Here Now ("and Now, and Now, and Now..."). The performance affected me deeply, and if anything, Damiel's longing and finally, achievement of contact with Reality brought me ever-closer to the immediate, and thus, to the infinite - an irony of the rare non-bitter variety.

I stayed for the post-production discussion, and when you came out to join it, you and I shared a brief smile that was, to me, one of those completely genuine human interactions - as if our souls connected in space for 5 seconds or so in total understanding, then moved on. In a more earthbound sense, it seemed simply to be that you caught my eye accidentally, saw the broad smile of appreciation I had plastered on my face, and returned it, recognizing it as the highest praise. Nonetheless, in the moment I felt a strong, if momentary, connection, such as those we sometimes have when a stranger in the street really looks at us, with none of his defenses in place, and we look back the same way, and then suddenly, it's over, yet we are changed, having opened our doors to another for just a moment. Most of all, though, I could see in that single smile, before all of the things you said in the discussion that confirmed it, that the light I had seen wasn't just Damiel's - it was fully and completely yours.

I finally got around to checking out your blog, especially since your bio indicated you had founded a theatre dedicated to the sacred in art. It made sense to me; it seemed to me that your approach to the character Damiel was based in something that was very real to you, and that your spirit was completely in the role. I noticed your comments on Advent - the bringing of the light to the darkness. I celebrate Yule at the winter solstice, myself, and my tribe and I keep the fires going all night, the longest night of the year, until the pendulum swings back. It pleased me to see echoes, in your Catholicism, of my own spirituality, though my relationship with the Catholic faith in which I was raised is fairly fraught, and I am now Pagan. It is always inspiring to see deep thoughtfulness and criticism coupled with strong belief. Also thrilling to see another fan of Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits.

I apologize if this letter seems obsessive; I promise I'm not a stalker. I just wanted to express my genuine appreciation, admiration, and, in that sense that applies to all humanity as well as to those who simply seem to "get it," love.

Love, therefore,

p.s. Your last entry asks: "What to do with the beard afterward?" Keep it. It's hot.
kitchen_kink: (bookish)
A while back some folks were doing a meme in which they named fictional characters they wouldn't kick out of bed for eating crackers. I kept meaning to do this, but it's only in the last few weeks that a bunch of them have come to light for me at once. For others, I'd have to do some digging in memory, but I might do so yet.

All that said, the characters below aren't necessarily characters I'd want to have sex with as they are characters I have major crushes on - intellectual, spiritual, sexual or otherwise.

I'll get the really weird one out of the way first: Elphaba, the child Wicked Witch of the West from Gregory Maguire's Wicked. I'm still in the first half of it, but I just love her smart mouth and total self-awareness. Even as she's so obviously unpopular, she manages to make Galinda, future good witch and intolerable upper-class beauty, look like an idiot.

Next, and perhaps no less weird, is Sasha, the stunted, limping, huge-voiced and intense-eyed radical leftist from John LeCarre's new novel, Absolute Friends. I'm sure some of this has to do with listening to this book on tape, and the wonderful John Lee's rendition of Sasha's booming, self-deprecating German accent, but he's also just such a hilarious and uncompromising and larger-than-life character that it's partially fictive crush and partially simple admiring envy at LeCarre's abilities.

Finally, the motherlode: Damiel, the angel who longs to be human from Wings of Desire. Though I adore Bruno Ganz, this love is quite specific to the recent ART production starring Bernard White, who is totally my new boyfriend. This particular entry might also be cheating, as it's so completely a combination of Damiel and Bernie that I love, not just the fictional character alone. Damiel, as written, is an articulate, melancholy romantic who records the endless details of life from the very beginnings of time, while longing merely to touch human skin, smell sweat, taste coffee, see color, feel something truly. Bernie White, in the role, puts on a loud Hawaiian shirt for his transition into mortality, and when he gets there, throws chairs all over the place, marvels at the wonder of a handshake, and inhales deeply of his own shoes.

All right, I confess: maybe it's just Bernie.
kitchen_kink: (wedding)
It's been over three weeks, and it's probably time for me to post about the wedding, before the events lose all of their freshness, before I forget a day that was, all cliches aside, the happiest of my life to date.

I should probably begin, in typical narrative fashion, with all of the things that went wrong leading up to it. Everyone talks about how all weddings are just small disasters that somehow come together in the end, and I'd gone into the wedding pretty much viewing it as a huge show I was opening on October 7. I've acted, directed, stage and assistant stage managed, costume designed, and participated in just about every aspect of theatre production, and I know what it's like to put on a show. My favorite thing in the wonderful film Shakespeare in Love is the theatre manager's continued insistence that when everything finally comes together, "It's a mystery." I know only too well the truth of this: pretty much every show I've worked on has been hanging by a thread a week before opening, with everyone stressed to their limits and mortified that it's going to be a total disaster.

This production was no exception; in fact, it was probably the worst I've experienced in this regard. Add to it that fact that along with [ profile] imlad, I was acting as producer, director, and lead actress, and it would be difficult for my stress level to be higher. I don't want to dwell on the negative, but to give a sample, I'll cite just a few of the events of Friday, the day before the wedding:

1. I was still waiting for the FedEx truck to bring the final pieces of everybody's clothing from Colorado.
2. When [ profile] imlad picked the programs up from the printers, all of the pages were in the wrong order.
3. I picked up my dress, which had been worked on very quickly and thoroughly, that morning, then went across the street to find a dress that would fit [ profile] entrope and match the color scheme.
4. Given all of that, we did not arrive on site until well into the dark hours of the evening, when we had intended to arrive around 2pm.

Add to this that my ring was not delivered until the Wednesday before (they broke it twice trying to make it), the store that was supposed to order the clothes [ profile] imlad was going to wear never bothered to do it, the linens cost more than twice what I was quoted and my dear friend who was going to do my hair and makeup got food poisoning the morning of the wedding day, and by the time of the ceremony, I was nothing but a huge ball of walking nerves.

Huge, I tell you.

But in the midst of this, there was [ profile] zzbottom, who bought food for Friday night's barbecue and acted as head chef, then, along with his girlfriend, set all the tables on Saturday morning. There was [ profile] macthud, who loomed in that incredibly calming way he has and lisped at me to make me laugh and feel like a princess. There was [ profile] wurmwyd, who was ready to do anything needed, and also did a spectacular job looking after my mother. There was [ profile] imvfd, who just took care of all kinds of things almost invisibly. There were the silk monkeys who showed up and provided the most spectacular show and equipment for people - it added so much. There were my official officiants, [ profile] redheadedmuse and [ profile] _cazador, and the wonderful addition, [ profile] queenofhalves, who made everything happen, ceremony-wise, without me having to think about it. There were all the attendants, who did everything imaginable to keep me sane. There was [ profile] shu_al, who did more than I thought possible to keep the entire operation running. And [ profile] sunspiral, guiding the crowd with his fine heraldic presence, and [ profile] jirikido, moving silently and making things happen. So many people to thank that I can only begin here, and hope that I can include everyone by the end of this already lengthy post.

And then, there was the wedding.

At 2pm on Saturday, October 7, the stated start time of the ceremony, I was sitting in a chair in the bathroom of the Lodge, having my hair done. Darling D showed up, looking pale, and while I had to take care of my makeup myself, she managed a quick and magnificent 'do incorporating [ profile] ayalanya's magnificent headpiece. We were running late, just to add to the stress, but as I watched myself in the mirror and fretted, the vision I had had of myself as bride began, at last, to come together. Quite suddenly I felt that I looked almost perfect, and as that moment of rightness washed over me, I had a chance to get nervous. I had been so consumed up until that point with the concern that everything wouldn't happen properly that I hadn't had a chance to reflect on what I was about to do.

And so, I breathed.

D left for the audience, and I walked out of the bathroom. [ profile] shu_al's husband was standing there, waiting to give the signal. It was about 20 minutes past 2.

I looked out the door into the field and saw the circle of chairs. I saw the attendants waiting with their elemental representations. I saw [ profile] imlad, my love, standing at one far corner, his anachronistic finery waving in the wind.

And in the center of the circle, my friends were dancing.

The drummers, who were there to raise energy and accompany the firespinners, had begun playing. [ profile] regyt was spinning bright gold flags. [ profile] water_childe, [ profile] danceboy and [ profile] dreams_of_wings, among others, were dancing in the circle. As I looked, [ profile] dreams_of_wings was being lifted into the sunlight to the sound of drums and spontaneous singing.

In that moment, and in every moment after that and since, I could not have been more moved, grateful, and thrilled to be a part of the community that was there around me. Their love, their joy, their effort, their participatory spirit would not even allow them to be bored waiting for a late ceremony to start: they found a way to begin celebrating right away. In that moment, I knew that everything was going to be perfect. And I wished, as I did many other times that day, that the rest of my family were there.

The message was conveyed and the circle grew silent as people returned to their seats and waited for the ceremony to begin. I propped the door slightly so that I could hear the choir sing. They broke beautifully into Delius' "To Be Sung of a Summer Night on the Water," a wordless expression of ethereal pastoral joy, as the officiants cast. It was a mighty circle they made: I could feel it from where I was.

Then, a moment of silence before the processional. The choir sang "The Heart's Cry," and the attendants, with their elements, processed from the four directions, one pair at a time. The piece ended, and [ profile] imlad and I ended up entering the circle in the small space of silence that followed: it seemed somehow appropriate. As I approached the edge of the circle, shaking, grinning my face off, trying not to cry, holding my grandfather's letter that he wrote to my grandmother from the Air Force when my mother was born, [ profile] imvfd stood up, and the whole crowd followed. Joy burst in me. I approached the altar, and took [ profile] imlad's hand.

[ profile] danceboy, invoking the Fey, leapt and flipped and pinched me and kissed the groom and broke the solemnity of the moment in exactly the way we hoped he would, and the spell was not broken but intensified.

[ profile] redheadedmuse's invocation of the Star Goddess was one of the most powerful magical things I have felt; I'm sure the choir's haunting, quiet chant of "You Who Open the Vault of Heaven" helped. [ profile] _cazador invoked the Boatman, and the usual heavy, dark, forbidding and loving presence entered our midst. And we were ready to do the work.

My lovely bridesmaids. The handsome groomsmen. They stepped forward one by one and offered such beautiful blessings and readings that I was overwhelmed. I was so happy to be able to involve them in a way that was more than simple witnessing, and I don't think I imagined what beauty they would bring.

We accepted the Boatman's challenge, and drew two cards, whose meaning we have still to divine.

Then came the charging of the rings. We wanted to involve everyone in this process, and so [ profile] queenofhalves taught the chant, and encouraged everyone who felt called to to join in with the choir in singing, and to dance, too, if they wished.

The chant began. The drums started. And then, everyone started to stand up.

The spiral dance that [ profile] redheadedmuse had wanted somewhere in our ceremony happened spontaneously, joyously, beautifully, and in lieu of a receiving line, I got a chance to look into the eyes of nearly everyone at the wedding as they passed, as we spiraled toward the center and out again, as we raised our voices and our bodies toward sending good vibes toward those wedding bands. I could hardly believe that it happened as it did; I'm still marveling at the pictures. I'm still marveling, too, at [ profile] bbbsg, whom a guest I did not know drew into the dance in her wheelchair. I think I almost shouted as she passed in the spiral, dancing with the rest of us, smiling in wonder.

Finally, we read our vows. We decided to write one short text and have both of us read it, changing only the names and husband/wife designations. [ profile] imlad got through it solemnly, with a kind of choked up grace. I got to the end before I broke and said the last words, "and maintain a constancy of the highest devotion for as long as I live," in a sobbing cadence, then laughed as I couldn't get the ring on his finger. [ profile] redheadedmuse bound our hands and pronounced us married, we kissed the way you do, and the choir sang [ profile] sen_no_ongakyu's incredible new piece. Then, drumming by [ profile] _cazador, [ profile] macthud, [ profile] greendalek and the aforementioned composer, with firespinning by [ profile] regyt and [ profile] buxom_bey, during which everyone sat silently and watched, though they were encouraged to join in dancing.

At the end, though, applause and cheering broke out, the wedding party escaped to photographs, and our guests started the party without us.

Pictures and a few minutes at the Lodge after the photographs tell me that a veritable circus took place there before dinner: silks trapezing, hula-hooping, contact improv dancing, labyrinth-walking ([ profile] pheromone actually brought a portable labyrinth!), sangria-drinking (thank you, [ profile] tisana!) and munching happened simultaneously.

Dinner was a blur of hellos and hugs and tears and love and excellent food (which [ profile] imlad and I wisely enjoyed before everyone else came in to dinner), provided by [ profile] deadwinter, [ profile] fanw, [ profile] doze_e_fish, [ profile] rosif3r, and non-LJ Andi. The hall looked lovely (thanks ever, [ profile] lifecollage and [ profile] doeeyedbunny, who couldn't be there, for the favors, and [ profile] rule30 for the decor help), the wine flowed, people stuck leaf-shaped confetti to their foreheads, the music rocked (thank you, Nutz and Dex!), and, strangely, everything went according to plan, only better.

The night wore on, the cake was cut, people started to leave, and then everyone carried the candles from the tables back up to the Lodge. There was a bonfire, more dancing, psytrance, and mostly low-key merriment well into the night, and I felt over and over again rocked in the arms of my loving community.

I want to make a couple of things clear before I end this far-too-long chronicle.

One: if you haven't been directly named here, it is oversight and not ingratitude. Oh, how I love, and how I endlessly thank, every one of you that was there that day.

Two: I don't think I ever fully realized, until that day, the extent of this community's love, support, and commitment to me, to [ profile] imlad, and to our union. I don't know if I'll ever stop being profoundly moved by all of you, and by how I felt that day, seeing the way you all made everything happen. There's a part of me, that childish part that's still the little girl nobody is friends with, who still can never quite believe that so many amazing people could ever be more to her than casual acquaintances - or, on worse days, that they're not thinking or saying bad things about her when she's not around. If I'm ever cold or distant, or quiet, if I ever disappear for a time, if I ever seem difficult to reach or hard to be close to, that's why.

And for the first time, at this event, I felt the full force of how much you all care for me, and us, and for each other, and the totality. I felt open to love of all varieties and levels in a way I never had before. I felt, if this makes any sense at all, that the event itself was a vindication of everything I've wanted my life to be: you all made it possible, and made it real. And I didn't shy away from anyone, because I knew you were all here for us, and I could finally feel, without doubts and insecurities, the full measure of your love.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for that, forever.

And for those of you who were invited and couldn't be there: we missed you. We love you. And thank you.

And go here for some pictures (thank you, [ profile] mangosteen, [ profile] rule30, and [ profile] queenofhalves!):
kitchen_kink: (romantic)
I asked [ profile] sen_no_ongakyu to write a choral piece around the following text for my wedding, which he did, beautifully. At the same time, though, I realized that this poem pretty much sums up how I feel about the universe.

love is the every only god

who spoke this earth so glad and big
even a thing all small and sad
man,may his mighty briefness dig

for love beginning means return
seas who could sing so deep and strong

one queerying wave will whitely yearn
from each last shore and home come young

so truly perfectly the skies
by merciful love whispered were,
completes its brightness with your eyes

any illimitable star

-e.e. cummings
kitchen_kink: (bliss)
So I walk onto my porch after coming from the gym today, and what do I see but a long 1-800-Flowers box on the porch! Sure enough, the damn thing's addressed to me, and I enfold it in my arms along with the other bags and books and things I'm carrying. I open the door, and there in the hall is...another 1-800-Flowers box - this one even bigger!

So after two trips up the stairs, I delay gratification for a little while by tidying up and getting ready for my shower. Then, I open the boxes.

The littler one has a bunch of carnations called Moonshadows, which are of the deepest blue-violet hue I've ever seen. Gorgeous, and simple, and just wow. A card is attached, expressing elegant and heartfelt wishes from my favorite housecat/high priestess, [ profile] catling. Much squeeage ensues.

I open the bigger box. Here, ensconced in much paper, each stem with a little water-filled stem-condom on it, are THREE DOZEN ROSES. Not one, not two ladies and gentlemen, but THREE. Three dozen. Thirty-six-freakin'-roses. They are gorgeous, and they easily fill the biggest vase in the house.

I open the card attached to the box. Where [ profile] catling's had a little message and her name, this card just says:

"Nice boots."

Okay, people, fess up! I have my guesses, but my first one was wrong. I'll reserve my second guess to avoid embarrassment. Just come forward, put the gun down, and we can forget any of this happened. Or, you know, celebrate that it did!

(Incidentally, [ profile] concrete is on his way to the Diesel with my present, which is apparently...more flowers. I am such, such, SUCH a lucky girl.)

Food happy

Nov. 4th, 2005 09:35 am
kitchen_kink: (eggplant)
Y'know, I tend to think my man's pretty easy to please, but I still appreciate it greatly when he says he thinks my apple butter is the best jam he's ever had.

And we're talking about a Russian here. Jam's important.
kitchen_kink: (pleased)
So here's the meme: go back a year from today (or as many years as you've been using LJ) and pick a quotation from your journal entries of that day (or a day near it, I suppose). Link to the entries here.

Today is the day after my anniversary with [ profile] ert, so it was an interesting and fortuitous day for me to come across this meme. Here's what I found:

March 7, 2003:

I got to work and opened the novel on my desktop. I read a chapter: it's good. It's quite good. A few missteps in language, some overly literary self-indulgence, but it's intriguing, linguistically rhythmic, haunting, strange. And I think I'm ready to work on it again.

[Note: as of today I've written 280 pages.]


I went out with my love last night to the scene of the crime to celebrate a year together. Seeing him sit across from me at that restaurant brought back everything I fell in love with him for. I stared into his eyes and vistas opened before me.

March 7, 2002, Or, the Day After My Life Changed:

Everything was so open. There were none of the games people play, the information they omit, when meeting and trying to impress a new person. And yet somehow, none of the sense of romance was compromised. It was a strange and amazing soul connection, of the kind I've felt maybe twice before in my life.

Happy Annys, my love.
kitchen_kink: (Default)
Rob Brezsny:

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): Love may not conquer all in the coming
weeks, Scorpio, but it could conquer 60 percent, and even as much as 75.
The key factor in determining love's power to accomplish wonders will be
your knack for avoiding obsessive perfectionism and all-or-nothing
thinking. You should work with love like a master politician who's skilled
at compromise, not like a glory-seeking hero who thinks she can change
everything overnight.
kitchen_kink: (happy)
I finished One Hundred Years of Solitude today, on the subway, then read the last few pages again over lunch. Its ending had a strange effect on me: I was moved to tears, but not necessarily because of sadness; they were the kind of elated tears that come along with a big, unbelieving smile, the sheer astonishment that an author could accomplish what he'd just accomplished, and also the vague sense that he's just had one over on you, but it was a really, really good joke with an important message, so you can't do anything but laugh.

I didn't find any quotations I really needed to have as sig files or anything until the very last section, at which point I found two meta-quotations that I adored:

"It had never occurred to him until then to think that literature was the best plaything that had ever been invented to make fun of people..."


"The world must be all fucked up...when men travel first class and literature goes as freight."

Especially considering the trick he pulls at the end, these two sentiments are just amazing to me. I won't reveal the magic key of this book that left me with a big smile on my face. Just read it.


kitchen_kink: (Default)

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