[meme] one sentence

[mmexlibris]

Give me a pairing and/or a prompt, and I will write you a one sentence ficlet.

nicked from doihearawaltz

Comments

[doihearawaltz.livejournal.com]

Gilbert/Fields - leave the basement light on
Hans/Fiona - broken line
Verbal Kint(/? you've already written on your opinion on his sexuality, but the question mark's there if you want to use it, also now that I think about it I kind of want him to meet Hedda -- ANYWAY, I got rambly and OT) - reading in bed

[mmexlibris]

Tell me about Hedda.

[doihearawaltz.livejournal.com]

In a nutshell, she's smart as hell and relieves her boredom with her own life by rather mercilessly manipulating the lives of the people around her, despises passivity, and is somewhat unpredictable thanks to the fact that she seems to operate by some secret personal logic that can't quite be described as rational.

Gilbert/Fields: Leave The Basement Light On

[mmexlibris]

She always knew when he couldn't sleep, and even though he grumbled and complained, he never failed to answer when she called, sometimes going so far as to meet her at the back door to let her in.

Hans/Fiona - The Broken Line

[mmexlibris]

Perhaps it was written or perhaps, merely luck that she was with him the day his Door stopped showing up, but whether fate or fortune, as the weeks passed in his world, she found she didn't care.

hans/fiona - broken line

[mmexlibris]

/more than a sentence./

"Don't move."

He freezes in place, cocking an eyebrow at her, the barest hint of a predatory smirk lurking on his lips. He can feel the trip wire pressing against his shin through his pants leg. "Why, Fiona, whatever makes you think..."

"No time. Don't move." There is a ferocious edge to her voice that makes him heed her words. He goes stock still, eyes watching her as she drops to a knee in the doorway. Her green eyes fix on something he cannot see, and he watches as she tracks it from their position, to the door frame and into the small room.

He sees her fish in a pocket for what he thinks is a knife, but turns out to be an ingenious little multi-tool. Swiss, perhaps, though he can see no telltale splash of red. Her hand turns, opening it and she looks up into his face.

"Don't even breathe."

He raises his eyebrows, still smirking. There, clear as day, the glint of madness in her expression. A part of her enjoys this.

There is a click, something happening beyond his sight, and a twisting of metal. The wire across his shin digs in a bit more. "Other way?"

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing." She keeps her voice steady and low.

Another click and a little exhalation. The wire snaps and he hears it whip through the air, hears a heavy clunk as a counterweight drops. He closes his eyes... And nothing happens.

When he opens them, she is standing beside him, grinning like a kitten in cream, holding up a grenade with the pin firmly in place. A quick little twist of the pliers she's holding, and the pin cannot come out without being bent straight.

"Told you. I know what I'm doing."

"You're proving yourself quite useful, Fraulein." He uses the term because he knows it goads her. He still reaches out a hand and touches her hip.

"You're welcome." She glares at him, standing up on her tip toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Hanzi."

She knows how to goad back.

[austen.livejournal.com]

Don/Joan; five o'clock shadow
Vert/Saffron; intoxication

Don/Joan Five O'Clock Shadow

[mmexlibris]

She holds the straight razor to his throat and he lifts his chin, defiant as ever, letting her pass the blade along his skin, heedless to the danger in her eyes.

Vert/Saffron Intoxication

[mmexlibris]

Cold emerald shards of light dance over her pale ivory skin, and she trembles, sinking down into madness with the scent of wormwood lingering on her lips.

[sleightofhand]

Man, you already know what I'm going to write.

[mmexlibris]

One Fi/Ramon hardcore, coming up!


KIDDING. I kid.

Care to leave a prompt?

[sleightofhand]

I am going to be kind of vague-ish and say "Pulse". Interpret however you like!

[mmexlibris]

She has a way about her, whether smiling and laughing or simmering with anger, whether sitting and thinking or twisting a perp's arm up behind his back, she has a way about her that makes his pulse quicken.