Prompt me! Please!

[dizzydrea]

So, I haven't written anything fic related in weeks. Three weeks to be exact. The Muse has crawled under the couch and won't come out. I have no idea why (or what I did to piss her off). This is why I don't have female cats...and my Muse is a female cat. /headdesk/

At any rate, what I've decided to do is ask for prompts. I was planning on doing this for my birthday this year, but I was too busy with work to make the time. Which is a good thing, as it turns out, because it'll be more useful now than it would have been back then.

So, here's how it'll work: you leave me a prompt and I'll leave you a drabble (100-300 words). The list of fandoms I've either written in or will consider writing for are listed below.

Feel free to pass this offer along to those you know who read my work. I'm not limiting it to just people who follow me online, so don't feel like it's this big secret. Other than that, have fun, go crazy (well, not too crazy), and we'll all see what happens.

The List:
Babylon 5
Blue Bloods
Castle
CSI (the original or New York)
Doctor Who
Eureka
Grimm
Harry Potter
JAG
Law & Order: SVU (the Benson/Stabler years)
Moonlight
NCIS
NCIS: Los Angeles
Numb3rs
Sanctuary
Stargate: SG-1
Stargate: Atlantis
Star Trek (any series, including the JJ Abrams reboot)
Suits
White Collar

Comments

The weather outside is frightful

[dizzydrea.livejournal.com]

I hope this makes the lack of power and the lousy weather at least a little more bearable...

~o~

Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful…

"Isn't that a Christmas song?" Peter asked as he crossed the room, open bottle of wine in hand.

Neal shrugged. "I thought it was appropriate."

The wind rattled the windows, rain lashing at the panes. Power had long since failed, and the house was dark save the fire in the fireplace. Somewhere under the blankets, Satchmo whined.

"Poor baby," El crooned as she rubbed his fur.

"Poor him, what about poor me?" Neal asked, mildly affronted.

"Have some wine," Peter said, handing over a glass.

Neal frowned, but took a sip. His eyebrows shot up. "Either your taste is improving or El did the shopping."

"Peter took care of the sandbags; I took care of the food provisions," El said. She ran a hand through his hair, brushing back a few loose strands. "Don't like storms?"

"Not really," Neal said, shrugging. "Mom worked nights, so…"

"Well, I promise nothing bad will happen," she said, leaning in and kissing his temple. "Besides, this'll be fun."

"There's a hurricane blowing outside," Peter pointed out. "How is that fun?"

She frowned at him, then reached behind her and pulled out a bag of supplies.

"Marshmallows?" Peter asked.

"S'mores," Neal said, catching on to El's plan.

All three turned to the fireplace, flames dancing merrily, completely unaware of the tempest brewing outside.

Neal turned to El, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes. "Thank you." He leaned over and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips.

"Hey, what about me?" Peter asked from Neal's other side.

He turned to Peter, cocking his head. "Well, you are keeping me nice and dry."

"You're welcome," Peter said sardonically.

Neal just grinned and kissed him.

…but as long as you love me so…