TAKE PITY ON ME

[wakeupnew]

If you'd like one of your characters to jump into bed with one of mine, leave a comment along with a prompt and I will write you a drabble/ficlet.

I listed my characters just a couple days ago; I'd link it again here, but A) I am lazy, and B) I don't like pulling up RP journals on work internet. I am not backlogged with cases, for the first time since arriving back here! The woman who I work with is out of the office! I am running out of things to do! Please give me things to write while I'm on my lunch break. That would be awesome.

You can consider this a drabble post in general, too, if that particular meme doesn't interest you. Give me a character or a pairing and some kind of a prompt, and I will take it from there. I don't always finish these things, but I try, and hey, you never know, maybe you will give me a prompt and I'll wind up writing thirty pages of fic for it (agonistes, I'm lookin' at you)! Look, I'll even make this post public! My fandoms are a matter of public record by now, I believe, but here's a random assortment of things that I will write for; if you see something missing from the list and want me to write it, can't hurt to ask! If you know I've seen or read something, I'll probably be willing to at least take a crack at writing for it.

Burn Notice, How I Met Your Mother, Leverage, Bones, Hellboy (movies or Hellboy and BPRD comics), Iron Man (movies or comics), Deadpool, Cable and Deadpool, Black Books, iCarly, National Treasure, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII, Final Fantasy X, The Red Star, M*A*S*H, Firefly, Princess Tutu, Run Fatboy Run, Watchmen, The Office (bearing in mind I never saw the end of the last season), milliways_bar, Sherlock Holmes, Torchwood (I have not seen series 1, but I've seen Children of Earth and most of series 2), True Blood (I've only seen the first six and a half episodes and read the first book, but I'll give it a shot!), Star Wars: X-Wing, Hot Fuzz, Star Trek (nu!Trek; you can request original series, Next Generation, Voyager, or even Enterprise if you want, but it's been years and I make no guarantees of the greatness of my memory)

I will write crossovers, crack, and basically anything else; I can only write sexy or gross things that are mildly sexy or gross (I am at my desk at work, pls remember. This is a worksafe space, darlings).

I inexplicably have the Next Generation theme stuck in my head. I haven't seen that show since I was 14 and obsessed. What, brain?

Comments

1/2

[wakeupnew]

Outside the Bellagio, fountains rise and fall to the strains of Debussy’s “Claire du Lune.” They refract the city’s dazzling lights; the tremendous blinking signs, the lights of the hotels and the casinos and the nightclubs. With the final swell of music, a solitary jet in the fountain holds steady, steady, steady – then tumbles down with a splash.

Thirty feet below the street, another geyser falls with a splash, but this one isn’t water.

“This is officially,” Liz punctuates the word with a burst of flame, “going on the list of the grossest things we’ve ever done.” She throws up her hand and hurls fire at the towering stack of gelatinous eggs that has been adhered to the sewer tunnel wall. She stands in thick, slow-moving, brown liquid that nearly comes to the top of her hip waders. She was wearing a paper mask, but nobody thought to make those fireproof; she has replaced the mask with a strip torn from her T-shirt. It barely covers her nose and mouth, but affords some protection from the stench.

POW! Red sends the angry mama frog-creature slamming through a tunnel wall with one blow from his stone fist. “Johannesburg was worse,” he says, pausing for thought. “So was the thing with the rotting pig intestines.”

Liz shoots him a quizzical look over her shoulder, lit by the controlled, towering pyre that was once a pile of egg sacs.

“Guatemala,” he says, starting to slog toward her. “ ’91? ’92. How’s it goin’?”

“Pretty good,” she says. Her eyes have gone deep, flat blue; her face is intent with concentration. “I think this is the last one. Would you tell the geniuses in the van they need to come up with an earpiece that isn’t going to melt the second I get above a hundred and fifty degrees?”

He grins; presses a finger to his own earpiece. “You guys hear that?”

As if in answer, something roars. Hellboy turns just in time to get pile-driven by something green, slimy, and really ticked off. They both go under with an enormous splash, which Liz instinctively throws an arm up against and turns away from. The wave hits her anyway, leaving her coughing and gagging, and, for a second, very glad of her makeshift face mask.

She clambers up out of the water, onto the ledge that the rapidly melting eggs rest on, and she watches the roiling sludge. “Son of a bitch,” Liz says to the silent drip, drip, drip of the tunnel, and she takes a deep breath in preparation, fire flaring around her hands.

Hellboy breaks the surface, sewer water pouring off of him. “A guy comes to Vegas, he just wants to play a couple hands of poker; instead, I get your ugly mug,” he roars, slapping his hands down against the surface, looking around wildly. “I didn’t ask for your tongue all over me, pal. I got a girl!” Something powerful yanks him out of sight before he can say another word, but from his expression a split second before he goes under, Liz can guess what he was going to say: crap. Almost immediately, the frog-creature comes rocketing out of the sludge to slam into the tunnel wall.

Unfortunately, it is the near tunnel wall; Red's underwater aim apparently isn't great. Liz ducks as the creature hits the wall over her head and then crashes back into the water almost directly in front of her. That's how Liz finds herself standing between a mother and her blackened, smoldering eggs.