OMG weirdness - icon pairings
Snagged from
mhalachaiswords : Make a list of all the characters in your icons. (Although you may have more than one icon of a single character, they only go on the list once.) Alphabetize it. Take the first two people on the list; that's your first pairing. Second two people; second pairing. etc.
I cheated, in that I wasn't sure whether I wanted to call her Kara Thrace or Starbuck, so I listed her twice. To be fair, I will characterize her differently in each. Also, I left off Elvis the alligator. He only likes Sonny.
The weird-ass pairings (I'm still working on this):
Amanda Devereaux & Shepard Book
Dana Scully & Duncan MacLeod
By all rights, the man should be dead. But that wasn't the worst of it. She wasn't sure whether Mulder was going to hate him instantly - spontaneous acts of kindness always brought out Mulder's paranoia - or bundle him off to the lab.
Either way, the sword was going to be a problem.
Illyria & Jayne Cobb
Gorram girl was as addle-pated as River. Hit just as hard, too. Stood over him like she owned him, never so much as a smile cracking her face. One small boot planted square on his chest, and his fiercest glare got him nowhere.
"Lemme up," he panted. Small boot, yeah, but it was pressing on his ribs a mite too hard for comfort.
"Why?" Curious, like she didn't see no reason why they couldn't stay just like this all gorram day. Maybe she could, but he had a mighty need to get some air sometime soon.
"Why? Cao ni zu zong shi ba dai! Why. 'Cause if you don't I'm gonna..."
"I have no ancestors for you to fornicate with." The girl cocks her head, like some kinda sha gua bird, and now he's startin to wish it were River. Because even River made more sense than this one. And what was with the blue hair? Not that the outfit was somethin he wouldn't go for, if the circumstances were a bit more... reversed.
"Illyria." The voice is mild but somehow formal, like a chou wang ba dan from a core world. "We haven't the time for games."
The blue girl's attention doesn't leave Jayne where he lies on his ass in the dirt; but the boot lifts a bit. Lets him get a lung full of air.
"This one tried to touch me," she says it with more distain than Jayne's ever heard from a woman, even Inara.
"That much is obvious." There's a hint of laughter in the new voice. A man steps into view, stands just behind the girl. Tall as Jayne, but thin. Neat and still, the way Simon gets when he's real serious. "I doubt he'll make that mistake again."
The stranger waits for the girl to make the first move. She straightens up, takes her boot offa his chest, and walks away without so much as a glance.
Haughty cho yade. He was just bein friendly.
Kara Thrace & Mal Reynolds
Martin Castillo & Methos
Agent Paul Smecker (Boondock Saints) - in drag & Miss Pussycat - with puppets
Ricardo Tubbs & River Tam
What is it with him and the beautiful underage psychos?
"He's not dead, you know." The girl stares up at him through damp tendrils of hair, and he wonders who the hell she's talking about, because the dude lying at her feet is most certainly not getting up again. She shakes her head and cracks a smile. Creepy, and a little smug. "You won't find him, though. Too late. You believed the lie."
The gun doesn't seem to impress her. She just lets fly with a high giggle and finds her feet with a grace he's not expecting. "It's not what you think."
"It usually isn't," he agrees. There's intelligence there, shining like a blade in her wide open eyes. "Why don't you just step away from the body. We can talk."
"Nothing to say." Her accent is unfamiliar. Precise. She pulls the crocheted shawl around her shoulders and shivers, her gaze bouncing from the body to Rico and past, into the damp night. "He'll find you. Don't be scared."
There's footsteps, running, behind him, and he doesn't waver. He's not gonna go underestimating a damaged little girl again.
"Rico!" It's Sonny, barrelling up the alley, like he knew it would be, so he doesn't turn. The girl's eyes flicker and her lips thin.
"He has your name," she says, and steps lightly over the corpse crumpled at her feet. "He doesn't remember, but it's there. Names don't leave, they just get papered over. But they stay, down deep. Peel away the layers and it's there."
"Stay where you are," he warns, and before he can react she lashes out, whirls, the fringe of her shawl flying, and then he's on the asphalt, Sonny standing wide legged over him. Arms rigid, gun glinting silver in the streetlights.
"You okay?" His partner is scanning the alley, his jaw set.
"The girl," Rico manages. His hand comes away sticky when he touches the back of his head. "Don't let her-"
Sonny lowers his arms and relaxes a notch. "Rico," he says, "There's no girl."
He's right, of course. Maybe there never was.
Sonny Crockett & Starbuck
"Hey. Come here..."
She reminded him of Margaret, his New York one night stand, the one who had nearly got him and Rico killed. Yeah, Margaret. If Margaret had been a bit more goofy and had developed a habit of throwing punches like a man. And the cigars. Don't forget the cigars. Still. She liked to bite, as fierce in bed as out. And that suited him just fine.
"I'm not done with you yet."
Weird Masked shirtless men & William Adama
Hard as it was to admit, some things just shouldn't have survived the apocalypse. He had an ancient painting in his own bunk, classical and muted; but this was... well, what exactly was this? Whatever it was, he wouldn't call it art. Maybe a Cylon had found some canvas and paint and tried its hand at another aspect of human nature. Something other than procreation and genocide.
Adama was pretty sure he'd rather the unnamed artist had come at him with lasers than create another one of these frakking things.
He'd give it to Starbuck. She'd love it.
mhalachaiswords : Make a list of all the characters in your icons. (Although you may have more than one icon of a single character, they only go on the list once.) Alphabetize it. Take the first two people on the list; that's your first pairing. Second two people; second pairing. etc.
I cheated, in that I wasn't sure whether I wanted to call her Kara Thrace or Starbuck, so I listed her twice. To be fair, I will characterize her differently in each. Also, I left off Elvis the alligator. He only likes Sonny.
The weird-ass pairings (I'm still working on this):
Amanda Devereaux & Shepard Book
Dana Scully & Duncan MacLeod
By all rights, the man should be dead. But that wasn't the worst of it. She wasn't sure whether Mulder was going to hate him instantly - spontaneous acts of kindness always brought out Mulder's paranoia - or bundle him off to the lab.
Either way, the sword was going to be a problem.
Illyria & Jayne Cobb
Gorram girl was as addle-pated as River. Hit just as hard, too. Stood over him like she owned him, never so much as a smile cracking her face. One small boot planted square on his chest, and his fiercest glare got him nowhere.
"Lemme up," he panted. Small boot, yeah, but it was pressing on his ribs a mite too hard for comfort.
"Why?" Curious, like she didn't see no reason why they couldn't stay just like this all gorram day. Maybe she could, but he had a mighty need to get some air sometime soon.
"Why? Cao ni zu zong shi ba dai! Why. 'Cause if you don't I'm gonna..."
"I have no ancestors for you to fornicate with." The girl cocks her head, like some kinda sha gua bird, and now he's startin to wish it were River. Because even River made more sense than this one. And what was with the blue hair? Not that the outfit was somethin he wouldn't go for, if the circumstances were a bit more... reversed.
"Illyria." The voice is mild but somehow formal, like a chou wang ba dan from a core world. "We haven't the time for games."
The blue girl's attention doesn't leave Jayne where he lies on his ass in the dirt; but the boot lifts a bit. Lets him get a lung full of air.
"This one tried to touch me," she says it with more distain than Jayne's ever heard from a woman, even Inara.
"That much is obvious." There's a hint of laughter in the new voice. A man steps into view, stands just behind the girl. Tall as Jayne, but thin. Neat and still, the way Simon gets when he's real serious. "I doubt he'll make that mistake again."
The stranger waits for the girl to make the first move. She straightens up, takes her boot offa his chest, and walks away without so much as a glance.
Haughty cho yade. He was just bein friendly.
Kara Thrace & Mal Reynolds
Martin Castillo & Methos
Agent Paul Smecker (Boondock Saints) - in drag & Miss Pussycat - with puppets
Ricardo Tubbs & River Tam
What is it with him and the beautiful underage psychos?
"He's not dead, you know." The girl stares up at him through damp tendrils of hair, and he wonders who the hell she's talking about, because the dude lying at her feet is most certainly not getting up again. She shakes her head and cracks a smile. Creepy, and a little smug. "You won't find him, though. Too late. You believed the lie."
The gun doesn't seem to impress her. She just lets fly with a high giggle and finds her feet with a grace he's not expecting. "It's not what you think."
"It usually isn't," he agrees. There's intelligence there, shining like a blade in her wide open eyes. "Why don't you just step away from the body. We can talk."
"Nothing to say." Her accent is unfamiliar. Precise. She pulls the crocheted shawl around her shoulders and shivers, her gaze bouncing from the body to Rico and past, into the damp night. "He'll find you. Don't be scared."
There's footsteps, running, behind him, and he doesn't waver. He's not gonna go underestimating a damaged little girl again.
"Rico!" It's Sonny, barrelling up the alley, like he knew it would be, so he doesn't turn. The girl's eyes flicker and her lips thin.
"He has your name," she says, and steps lightly over the corpse crumpled at her feet. "He doesn't remember, but it's there. Names don't leave, they just get papered over. But they stay, down deep. Peel away the layers and it's there."
"Stay where you are," he warns, and before he can react she lashes out, whirls, the fringe of her shawl flying, and then he's on the asphalt, Sonny standing wide legged over him. Arms rigid, gun glinting silver in the streetlights.
"You okay?" His partner is scanning the alley, his jaw set.
"The girl," Rico manages. His hand comes away sticky when he touches the back of his head. "Don't let her-"
Sonny lowers his arms and relaxes a notch. "Rico," he says, "There's no girl."
He's right, of course. Maybe there never was.
Sonny Crockett & Starbuck
"Hey. Come here..."
She reminded him of Margaret, his New York one night stand, the one who had nearly got him and Rico killed. Yeah, Margaret. If Margaret had been a bit more goofy and had developed a habit of throwing punches like a man. And the cigars. Don't forget the cigars. Still. She liked to bite, as fierce in bed as out. And that suited him just fine.
"I'm not done with you yet."
Weird Masked shirtless men & William Adama
Hard as it was to admit, some things just shouldn't have survived the apocalypse. He had an ancient painting in his own bunk, classical and muted; but this was... well, what exactly was this? Whatever it was, he wouldn't call it art. Maybe a Cylon had found some canvas and paint and tried its hand at another aspect of human nature. Something other than procreation and genocide.
Adama was pretty sure he'd rather the unnamed artist had come at him with lasers than create another one of these frakking things.
He'd give it to Starbuck. She'd love it.