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Wednesday - Magic

...Let's see how many plot bunnies rabbits we can pull out of this hat!

Today is going to be all about "Magic." This could be traditional magic, from stage magicians and spell-casting to fairies, fairy tales, magical creatures and situations. Or perhaps this is a more real-world sort of magic, based on chemistry between people (sexual or otherwise), good and bad fortune, superstitions, miracles and wishes. Maybe it's real, or maybe it's simple illusion; maybe our characters are true blue believers, or maybe they're skeptics to the nth degree.

I'm sure I'm overlooking other twists on the theme, so please, be as literal or figurative as you like, and feel free to turn the theme upside down and inside out; don't forget to shake it to see what else falls out too! Any fandom (RPF or FPF), and any characters/pairings (het, gen, slash, femslash) are welcome!

Please use the following formats (the second is for crossovers) in your requests in order to help the code-monkeys best do their jobs:

Fandom, Pairing, Prompt
Fandom1/Fandom2, Pairing, Prompt

Some examples might be:

Fringe, Olivia Dunham/Astrid Farnsworth, tea leaves
Supernatural, Castiel/Dean Winchester/Alastair, Doubting Thomas
Stargate: SG-1/Firefly, Daniel Jackson/Simon Tam, "For science!"

Don't forget that it's one prompt per comment, and you're always welcome to write responses to your own prompts, and answer as many prompts as you like. (Also, you may wish to check out the guidelines here for leaving multiple prompts in a row.)

And remember, if today's theme/prompts aren't for you, the Lonely Prompts indexes are waiting, full of orphaned prompts crying out to be adopted.



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Apr. 8th, 2009 06:05 am (UTC)
Fringe, Olivia Dunham/Astrid Farnsworth, tea leaves
Apr. 8th, 2009 09:26 pm (UTC)
Coffee Cake, Fringe, Olivia/Astrid, Tea Leaves
“Really?” Olivia asked, her smile wide and slightly disbelieving. It was one of the things Astrid loved about her. No matter how much crap they dealt with, no matter what weirdness came out of Dr. Bishop’s lab, there was still the capacity for this childlike glee in her smile, this touch of innocence and awe.

Astrid smiled back. “Not everything in the world gets learned in school.” She said. “A lot of things happen in this world that science is just now beginning to understand. Sometimes, the old ways work when the new ones don’t yet.”

Olivia smiled that smile again and it took everything in her to just take the offered tea cup instead of taking her hand and kissing the inside of her wrist like she wanted to.

“So what do my tea leaves say?”

Astrid took a look down at the cup. There were some dark warnings that she hardly felt a need to mention considering the way things had been going lately. She smiled lighter then. “A friendship will deepen, in more ways than one.”

Olivia smiled as she reached a hand out to cover one of Astrid’s. “That’s more than I was willing to ask for.”

And Astrid was a smart enough woman to read between the lines. Her own smile notched up as she rubbed her thumb over the back of Olivia’s hand. “You don’t need to be afraid of asking for anything Olivia. I won’t say no.”

Neither woman moved until Dr. Bishop came strolling in, oblivious to the moment, with a water balloon, three packs of strawberry chewing gum, two pigeons, and a coffee cake.
Apr. 8th, 2009 06:05 am (UTC)
Supernatural, Castiel/Dean Winchester/Alastair, Doubting Thomas
Apr. 8th, 2009 06:06 am (UTC)
Stargate: SG-1/Firefly, Daniel Jackson/Simon Tam, "For science!"
Apr. 8th, 2009 06:09 am (UTC)
Twilight/Firefly, Edward Cullen/River Tam, mind reading
May. 3rd, 2009 03:26 pm (UTC)
Edward dislikes this time period. He dislikes most time periods, where, as a teenager physically, he is rarely treated like the several centuries old adult that he is. In this time, there is no true 'age of adulthood'. If you live on the Rim, it's when you can take care of yourself. If you live on a better planet, it's when you've been introduced to society. As Carlisle is a respectable doctor on Ariel, and Edward does not age, which would be noticed, he will never be introduced to society, and thus never an adult. It's quite annoying.

He's almost glad when the firm Carlisle is with moves off-planet. They follow him to an Outer world--not quite the Rim, but certainly not Ariel. He spends the first few days unpacking with the rest of his family, then wanders around town with Bella. It's supposedly dangerous, but then again, Edward is supposedly a doctor's son, spoiled and weak, on this planet against his will.

They pass a group of three that sparks Edward's interest. He doesn't mean to read as deeply as he does, but he finds some very interesting things.

One: they live on a ship named Serenity, after the battle, by one of the few living from the losing side. He's never met a Browncoat supporter before.

Two: that strange little viral clip about Miranda a few months back was sent out by these people. And was real.

Three: the quiet little girl walking nearest to him is reading his mind.

It's always a headache to run into another reader; the train of thought you receive, if you start reading first, is "Hmm, what's he thinking..." followed by your own thoughts, followed by "Oh! another reader!" followed by an attempted block, which ends up in a literal headache.

This girl is a surprise. Her thoughts are very out of sync, illogical, random. Not stream-of-consciousness random, or your typical insanity random, but random enough to give him pause. He stops walking, vaguely hears Bella voicing her concerns. He turns to watch the strange girl. She does the same.

"She isn't like the boy, with his sharp sharp teeth," she whispers. "She can't control it. Always on, never off, lightbulb burning bright, burning out, out of time, out of luck-" As her voice grows louder, more frantic, the couple next to her look wary. The other girl--Kaylee--murmurs something soft and comforting to the girl, which does nothing. The boy (her brother, a doctor--Simon Tam, he's sure Carlisle's mentioned the Tams before) whispers something in her ear that immediately calms her.

"She's been conditioned," Edward realizes. "An Alliance project?"

They immediately looks suspicious of him. For good reason, of course. Edward certainly looks Alliance-allied, and all of their family are on the run...and not all of them because of their connection to the girl.

"Edward?" Bella asks him. "Is that girl...like us?"

He's still puzzling that out, actually. "No, not like us. A bit like me, though I don't think her brother would like me saying that." Edward smiles at Simon, who seems torn between shock, fear, and anger. He steps forward, bows congenially, and says, "Forgive me my forwardness, Dr Tam, but I feel my family may be of some help to your sister." He produces a card, hands it to Simon. "My father has some greater experience with her condition than you do, I suspect."

Simon stares at the card. "I...remember Dr Cullen being very compassionate, but not particularly talented. Old-fashioned."

Bella muffles a laugh. She still finds their immortality a great inside joke.

"You could call him that. It's in cases that are more...supernatural that he shows his ability."

Kaylee and Simon share a look. "We'll look into it the next time we're planet-side."

"Of course."
Apr. 8th, 2009 06:11 am (UTC)
Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory/Luna Lovegood, "I believe you."
Sep. 10th, 2009 04:47 am (UTC)
Belief (slight Cedric/Luna, G, 1/2)
AU in which Cedric did not actually die. This got kinda long, sorry.


Cedric had dreamed of terrible things. He'd dreamed of snake-like faces, of hoods, of graveyard soil so real he could feel the clods under his hands.

He dreamed that he had died-- just a moment, just a breath, and then green light and falling forever.

And then, he'd woken up.

No one believed him.


It was the stress of the accident.

It was a hallucination from loss of blood.

It was his brain's way of filing away the problem.

It certainly wasn't magic.

Cedric Diggory had been in a car accident on his way to the mall with his father to find his mother a birthday present. He'd been thrown free from the car. It had been touch-and-go for the first couple of weeks, but he was slowly recovering. Miraculously, he hadn't broken any bones, and the internal damage was healing.

No magic about it, just the skilled doctors in the ER and the ambulance.


"I believe you," she said.

Cedric opened his eyes and looked at the girl standing at the end of his bed. She was thin and pale, with ocean-blue eyes that stared straight into his. He tried to remember who she was through the painkillers. Luna, wasn't it? She kept drifting down here from the psych ward. At least, that was his assumption. She didn't appear to be physically ill, but she was really, really strange.

"Huh?" he said. His voice was still cracking and breaking. He'd only been awake for about six days now; in a row, anyway. They said he'd woken up several times, moaning about the green light and some sort of Dark Lord. The nonsense that no one would believe (so why did he almost believe it? Why were there words under his breath, like puffs of air trying to escape? Why did he wake and reach for his wand? He didn't even have one, Harry had-- Harry had taken--).

"I believe you," she repeated, cocking her head to one side and staring like an interested pigeon.

Cedric coughed. He wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"I'm not sure why they thought it was necessary to wipe your memory," she continued, in nearly a sing-song tone, "but they obviously didn't do a very good job."

"I'm sorry?" he said. "Who wiped my memory?"

She looked thoughtful. "I don't know, really. They should have taken you to St. Mungo's, except that the Dark Lord blew it up when he came back. So perhaps that's why they decided to try a Muggle hospital."

He didn't ask what a Muggle was. The answer was hovering at the corner of his mind and suddenly he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I'm Luna Lovegood. You don't remember that," she breathed, coming closer to his bed. She leaned over a little and her blonde hair dangled onto his sheets, almost made white by the lack of contrast.

"Ah, I'm... I'm," he began automatically, feeling stupid to be introducing himself to the crazy girl, but continuing anyway. Hufflepuffs were polite, weren't they?

(What was a Hufflepuff?)

"Cedric Diggory," he said hastily.

"Oh, yes, I know," she said.
Belief (slight Cedric/Luna, G, 2/2) - dropsofviolet - Sep. 10th, 2009 04:47 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Belief (slight Cedric/Luna, G, 2/2) - dropsofviolet - Sep. 10th, 2009 05:02 am (UTC) - Expand
(Deleted comment)
Apr. 8th, 2009 06:17 am (UTC)
"Touch it."


"I dare you."


"I double dare you!"

"I'm not touching something from Dad's storage. It's there for a reason, it's dangerous."

"Fine. I'll touch it."


The moment Dean's fingertips touched the rock, light exploded in front of their eyes. It was so bright it felt like it was burning, but they couldn't look away. Every color imaginable lit the room brilliantly. Colors they'd even seen and couldn't put to words. When the light finally dimmed and they both regained the feeling in their faces they assessed the situation. Sam blinked at his brother...or well...

"Dude, I have boobs!"

Sam sighed. Well, he'd always wanted a sister...
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Apr. 8th, 2009 12:47 pm (UTC)
Xander knew better than to do something as stupid as wish, he really did, but sometimes when he was so tired and sore he just stopped thinking.

He collapsed into a cold bed in a lonely apartment with new stitches in his arm and bruises from a prissy slayer along his back. And for one moment he didn't think, he didn't consider, he just wished.

"I wish I had someone."

Xander knew exactly how stupid that was when there was a flash of light and a demonic voice saying "For Anya."

The light cleared to a rather long length of naked male curled up beside him in bed. The dark head snored quietly beside him and a rather attractive face smiled from beside him in a picture on the bedside table.

The sheets were warm, there was a gun and NCIS badge on the bedside table and Xander had a memory full of relationship.

He really needed to think before he spoke.
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Apr. 8th, 2009 06:13 am (UTC)
HIMYM, Barney/Robin, magic trick gone hilariously wrong (something along the lines of this gif)
Apr. 8th, 2009 03:54 pm (UTC)
“… and because of this weather, I haven’t seen one inappropriately short skirt all week,” Barney moaned into his scotch. “Though I suppose,” he put his glass down, “I could always offer to warm them up!” He clapped his hands together, the usual fireball igniting in his hands.

Robin watched in amusement as Barney’s trick suddenly exploded.

“Fuck! That wasn’t supposed to-”

But whatever Barney was about to say was cut off as he began to yell, loudly.


Before the flame could spread, the ever cautious Ted had thrown Lily’s margarita over the small flame.

It seemed Barney’s mistake had cost him more than just his reputation as a solid magician, but also the expensive sleeve of one of his favourite suits.

“Ted!” The literally smoking Barney moaned unhappily, “This is a two-thousand dollar suit! You should have just let me burn to death.”

By now, Robin couldn’t help herself, the entire situation had been too much for her to handle; so hand over her mouth, she burst into laughter.

The pout that graced the blonde’s face only caused her to laugh even harder.

“Well,” She said between bursts of giggles, “At least you’re not cold.”

Edited at 2009-04-08 03:58 pm (UTC)
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Apr. 8th, 2009 10:58 am (UTC)
Ziva stared in surprise as Abby bounded into the gym, clad for a change in sweats and an NCIS t-shirt as she leapt at Tony who shrugged her up into a piggy-back.

"Hey Abs!" he exclaimed. "Don't usually see you down here unless- oh no. No Abs. No way. Go show Gibbs your new trick!"

Still dangling from his shoulders, Abby pouted. "But Ellie won't tell me which tricks Gibbs is likely to know!" she protested. She looked round the room, brightening as she caught sight of Ziva. "Hey, Ziva!" she called, "Want to see a trick I learned?"

Ziva glanced at Tony, who shot her a big grin and two thumbs up.


"What's going on, Abs?" Ziva heard Gibbs ask, but from her position under Abby's knees was unable to turn her head to see the man. It was a surprisingly effective, efficient hold.

"Oh, nothing much," Tony replied for Abby. "Abs was just showing us a new hold her cousin taught her."

Gibbs snorted. "And does 'Ellie' know you're sharing his tricks with a federal agency?" he asked.

Abby sprung to her feet, Ziva following moments later. "Of course he does, Gibbs! He told me to share. Wanna see? It's like magic!"
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Apr. 8th, 2009 06:21 am (UTC)
Kings, Jack/David, divine intervention
Apr. 9th, 2009 04:02 am (UTC)
Silas would manipulate situations and then call it divine intervention. Jack knew the trick well, though he tended to use it for different purposes.

Jack would arrange convoluted ways for his object of seduction to 'somehow' end up in bed with him.
Maybe they would find themselves trapped in one of Jack's private retreats, unable to leave because of weather or fear of reporters. Jack would get drunk and "reveal" his secrets, telling his soon-to-be-lover about his feelings, how wrong these feelings were, very wrong. He had played the "never been with a man" card dozens of times, weeping that he was too afraid to give in to his deepest desires, wondering if the love of a good man might be just what he needs to find the courage to become a great king some day. Or maybe, if he could be with a man once, he could have a memory to cherish later, when the burdens of ruling a nation grew heavy. If only there were someone honest and true enough to trust with his serets, to trust with his precious royal body....

And then it would seem like serendipity, or destiny, that they were there together. And the beautiful young man of the week would feel like he was making a noble contribution to the royal dynasty, that he was doing his patriotic duty.

This worked like a charm.

So well, in fact, that Jack was sick of it.

Even though David, naive little small-town David, who could never let pass an opportunity to get involved in a crisis bigger than himself - he would be perfect for this game.

But something about David made Jack want to try something different. To appeal to his baser instincts rather than his better ones. To win a victory over David by getting him in bed, not because of David's nobility or patriotism or heroism - Jack had had enough of that -- but by excavating something else in David, something bitter and dark. Something spiteful.

He wanted to David to be disgusted at him. Enraged at him. Vengeful. He wanted to be fucked senseless for not being good enough.

So he tried. A night out. Passive aggressive comments all night. Inappropriate snobbery toward David's hometown. Clear statements that he wasn't good enough for Michelle. Hints that the royal family thought of him as a pathetic housepet.

Then saying some nice things. Asking pardon for all those things he said. Convincing David to come back to a secret apartment. To get away form Silas' prying eyes. Bringing out the cognac and overdoing it.

Then telling David that he was the source of those tabloid pictures. That he wanted to bring David down to his level.

"Why would you tell me this?"

"So you'll have the chance to stop me from doing it again."


"Stop me. Get back at me for what I've done. Or I will do it again, I swear." Jack grabbed David's shoulders forcefully and kissed him hard, moving his tongue in way he was sure the country boy had never experienced.

"What are you - are you blackmailing me?"

Jack closed his eyes. "No. But there's only one way you can get away with hurting me, and I'm telling you to do it." He opened his eyes expecting to see David look bewildered and confused and appalled.

Instead, he looked wary. He looked like someone who knew what Jack was trying to do. And he said, "I don't think I can do what you want me to do." He said it apologetically but firmly.

Jack felt a wave of desperation, the cold gutshot of rejection. "Will you try?"

David looked away, forehead wrinkled in some emotion Jack couldn't read.

"Please try. Do this to me."

"I can't."

"Do this for me." This wasn't what Jack wanted. He wasn't supposed to play the 'I need you to save me' game. He didn't want David to have that power over him again.

But repeated himself, "Do this for me. Hate me. And hurt me. Then forgive me. Please do this for me."

David peered at him, not gently. Trying to discern something, Jack guessed. His jaw twitched, and he sighed, but then he said, "All right."

"I want you to make me cry. I want you to make me beg you to stop." Jack waited for a reaction, fear or repulsion or arousal.

But David simply repeated, looking solemn as ever, "All right."
(no subject) - just_imriel - Apr. 9th, 2009 05:00 pm (UTC) - Expand
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Apr. 8th, 2009 06:25 am (UTC)
Kings, Jack/Katrina, wax and wane
Apr. 8th, 2009 06:42 am (UTC)
RPS, Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles, too perfect
Apr. 8th, 2009 02:24 pm (UTC)
It's like a spark of fire under his skin, heady and powerful and so demanding it hurts not to touch. He's never met anyone like Jensen, never anyone so beautiful. When those green eyes meet his own, he can't look away. Bewitched by love at first sight, perhaps, and cursed by it. The happy curl of perfect lips, the crinkle of laughter around his eyes. And that laugh, soft and rich and genuine.

For years Jared holds it in, touches when he can and laughs to cover for the way he mourns the loss of contact. For years, until they're under the same roof. Until neither of them has anyone else.

He watches Jensen sleep from the door. The spill of sunlight across his shoulders, the way his hair sticks out in every direction. And Jared can't resist any longer. The moment is too perfect. He kneels beside the bed, lets his fingers trace along Jensen's forehead before he leans down and just briefly, chastely, brushes their lips together.

Jensen sighs, eyes fluttering open, and he smiles.
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Apr. 8th, 2009 06:57 am (UTC)
House, House/Wilson, one of them turned into an animal of some kind
Apr. 13th, 2009 02:43 pm (UTC)
Sorry, it really does suck =/
It was gray. Or more salt and pepper-ish, actually. Missing small chunks of fur here and there and limping slightly. Its blue eyes were huge and somewhat intimidating. It must have been the ugliest cat Wilson had ever seen. But there was something about it, something unexplainable that drew him towards the poor mauled animal and made him reach out and touch its filthy back. He didn't expect the fur to be soft, but still, the roughness startled him.

"If nobody picks it up 'till the end of the week, we'll have to put it down," Wilson was jolted out of his silent reverie by one of the shop assistants.

It was Saturday, he realized. Looking at the miserable cat, there was no way that anybody in their right mind would take it home with them, let alone keep it and maybe even love it.

"I'll take him," Wilson said, surprising himself as well as the middle-aged woman running the pet shop. How did he even know it was a he?

Without giving it any further thought, he scooped up the too thin animal, opened his winter coat and put the struggling cat into the warmth that his body provided. With his free hand Wilson fished into his pocket for his wallet but the woman stopped him.

"We're glad you're taking it. Good luck," she added as an afterthought and left to attend to other customers, who might actually help the financial situation of the shop.

When Wilson got back to their apartment, House wasn't home yet. That actually provided a sense of relief because not once since seeing the ugly cat did he stop to think of what House would have to say about it. And frankly, he didn't want to hear it. This wasn't one of his 'I must save all the poor in the world' stunts. This was... He didn't even know what he was trying to prove by taking the cat home. It was like a magnet though, an inexplicable but stong force pulling him towards it.

The cat, Limpy, as he named it in his mind, didn't want to eat. Or drink. Or do anything else but lie curled up on the couch and whimper occasionally. Was he in pain? Wasn't he hungry? Wilson had no idea what to do, so he sat beside the cat and let silence descend upon them.

Later, when he woke up with a start, the cat was nowhere to be seen. And neither was House. It was way past midnight, but it didn't struck Wilson as odd, House probably had a case. With that thought, he let sleep claim him once again.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, there was the miserable old cat, lying in the midst of white pills and staring at Wilson with its sad blue eyes.
Re: Sorry, it really does suck =/ - dreamsofspike - Apr. 13th, 2009 04:03 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: Sorry, it really does suck =/ - barush - Apr. 13th, 2009 04:13 pm (UTC) - Expand
Apr. 8th, 2009 06:58 am (UTC)
House, House/Kutner, bring you back
Apr. 25th, 2009 10:53 pm (UTC)
(Very angsty and doesn't really have that much to do with the prompt - sorry)

House blearily opened his eyes. Another night of little or no sleep and he was exhausted. He cast a glance at the chair near his bed. Empty. No sign of Amber. Breathing a sigh of relief he rolled on to his back only to see another familiar (dead) face staring down at him.

"People who blow their own brains out don't get to come back and haunt me."

"Thought you might like a change from Amber."

Kutner perched himself on the end of the bed, acting for all the world like he belonged there. House groaned and shut his eyes, he did not need this.

"You want to know why don't you?"

"You're not the ghost of Kutner past. You're just an hallucination brought on by lack of REM sleep and exhaustion. I'm talking to myself."

"Well go on then. Tell me why I did it. Tell me why I woke up one morning and took a gun and pressed it against my temple and pulled the trigger. Tell me why I splattered blood all over the floor for my workmates to find. Nice touch by the way, sending 13 to find the body - like she hasn't got enough hang-ups with death already."

"I don't know why you did it." House shouted. "I thought you were happy you moron. Six idiots I've had working for me for the last five years and five of them are totally screwed up people who nobody would be surprised to find dead on the floor. One person, one of you I thought was happy. I thought maybe...."

"Maybe there was some hope? Maybe life didn't have to be all bad. Maybe it was possible to find happiness?"

"Everybody lies."

"So you sort of liked that I was happy, you were pleased that there was some hope in the world. So you screwed with me, tried to take away my happiness, my joy in life. Made fun of my superstition, tried to destroy my faith in you. And you're surprised that I shot myself?"

House shook his head.

"I didn't think I could destroy you as well."

"Well you did House, you killed Amber and you made me see that life wasn't worth living. That there isn't any hope. Wilson and Cuddy are right when they say you make everyone around you worse."

House stared at him in desperation.

"I don't want this. I don't want to be like that."

"So, try and change."

"I can't."

"Then put an end to the pain. Guns are messy but there are always other ways. Your choice House, but do something before you kill anyone else."

House closed his eyes in exhaustion and slipped back into another few minutes of snatched sleep. When he woke again the room was empty of people.

There was a full vial of vicodin on the bedside table and a bottle of scotch beside it.

(no subject) - dreamsofspike - Apr. 26th, 2009 01:21 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - menolly_au - Apr. 26th, 2009 03:23 am (UTC) - Expand
Apr. 8th, 2009 06:58 am (UTC)
House, House/Wilson, kissing a frog
Apr. 8th, 2009 10:14 am (UTC)
Sometimes you kiss a frog and - bam! - like magic, the slimy thing is transformed into someone bright and brilliant and wonderful.

Wilson tried that approach. For a (experimental) time in their relationship, he was ridiculously nice to House. He brought lunch. He paid compliments to an already burgeoning ego. He was protective and enabling and all-around heroic (even volunteering to help House slay the dark dragons of his mind). He was the Good Guy, the Best Guy, and above all other things, he was House's Guy.

Except, one day late in the experiment, he realized he was just becoming That Guy, the one who talked too much and gave in too frequently, the one not getting any respect and pretty much kissing frogs that weren't secretly grand princes in disguise. The shift back to normalcy was easy, as simple as a willful objection, an overt critique, a doubt of House's undoubted skills.


Scholar that he was, Wilson wondered where he might have erred in method. He wondered if, perhaps, he had failed to be literal enough (maybe all it took was the real thing: the taste of chalky medicine and alcohol shared between mouths, the heat of a hand on the nape of the neck, at the small of a back, an urging of urges to spill forward for just one unchecked and reckless moment).

He spurned the frog and kept a friend, but even so.

Wilson wondered for a long while.
(no subject) - lorilann - Apr. 8th, 2009 11:11 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - comeon_eileen - Apr. 9th, 2009 05:20 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - menolly_au - Apr. 8th, 2009 12:15 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - comeon_eileen - Apr. 9th, 2009 05:19 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - dreamsofspike - Apr. 8th, 2009 01:54 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - comeon_eileen - Apr. 9th, 2009 05:17 am (UTC) - Expand
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