Prompts for fics, anyone?

[ekaterinn]

Okay, the last time I tried this, I never actually finished the drabbles. But I need to write something and I'm finding it hard to just *pick* an idea to write.

So give me a prompt for any of these: SGA, due South, House, Good Omens, Firefly, Daniel and H, and I'll try to write you something.

Comments

[aishuu.livejournal.com]

Good Omens, prompt: Aziraphale steals Crowley's car. For a good reason, of course...

And tag, babe, you're it.

[ekaterinn.livejournal.com]

“You drive like a grandmother*.” Crowley mumbled, letting his head fall back on the top of the seat. “Sssnails could driver faster than this.” His hair tickled the back of his neck, making him giggle.

Aziraphale glanced at him, looking halfway between concerned and amused. “Better than you killing us both in a fiery auto crash.” He pursed his lips. “I’d really prefer not to spend the next three weeks filling out the new Corporal Manifestation Forms. They’re up to WZ-223, now.”

“As if Hell is any better.” Crowley retorted. His voice rose an octave as he mimicked a fussy voice: “We Just Give You A Body Last Century, Don’t Tell Us You’ve Ruined It Already!” He sighed, slumping down further and added petulantly. “’Ssssides, I can drive.”

Aziraphale looked skeptically at him.

“Oh, ssshut up, angel.” Crowley sat up straighter and tried to sober up. “Ouch.” It didn’t work this time either.

Aziraphale was now openly smiling at him. “Bless off,” he said and made a gesture which had been extremely rude in ancient Sumeria**.

The angel didn’t even look discomfited. Maybe Crowley needed new rude gestures. He simply turned his eyes back on the road. “This is why we’re never going back to Brighton, my dear.”


*A grandmother who baked cookies and had a rocking chair, to be precise. Not one who took up kickboxing and had more of a love life than her grandchildren.
**The gesture involved both hands, the tip of the left ear and a subtle twisting of the tongue. Crowley wasn’t sure whether he could do it sober.