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[starbolts]

the ic show some love meme

how to:

this is very similar to a roulette meme. first, go here and utilize the random number generator to the right. put '1' as the minimum and '10' as the maximum, then generate a number. reply to fellow posters according to this table:

1. a kiss on the cheek.
2. a kiss on the mouth (can be chaste or amorous).
3. a hug (brief, romantic, friendly, etc).
4. spoon (don't know what spooning is? direct your attention here).
5. gift them something (i.e. chocolate, roses, jewelry, swords).
6. compliment them.
7. profess your undying love.
8. massage them.
9. make it awkward. cheese it up.
10. your pick!


Stolen from pretty much everywhere, slightly edited for content. As always, if it gets sexy enough to scar the kidlets, take it to your journals.

Comments

[crusades]

#3

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

It was an ancient and vital rule, for both fighters and horses; do not approach them from behind. Most especially, if you may startle them, avoid it at all costs. The results have a reflex tendency to turn messy in predictble ways.

Then again, Motoko liked to live dangerously, wrapping her arms around Bruce's shoulders from behind, like marking her territory. Mine, bitch.

[crusades]

And of course, it's not like there's much vengeance he can enact while he's already being pinned - albeit cozily - by a cyborg.

"... Major?"

Proof that there has to be something that Batman isn't prepared for.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

Motoko seems to be occupying the 'unexpected' bracket more and more.

"Yes?" Completely even-toned, as natural and neutral as if this were an ordinary occurrence. If not for the smell of gin, nothing at all would be out of the ordinary; except her smile, soft and natural as an ordinary persons might be. She's drunk.

[crusades]

Oh, joy. She's been drinking. There have been rumours, but he'd yet to actually encounter her after quite so extraordinary a binge. Something to do with him rarely leaving the workplace.

"You've been drinking," he replies, clearly not in any way amused, the muscle of his shoulders coiled at the infringement of dearly held personal space.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

"Usually," she replies amicably, and really she wouldn't understand his chagrin. The smell isn't overpowering— it's already fading under the busy attentions of the automatic micromachine network. She doesn't slur, or stumble, those functions corrected automatically by software inimical to the design of her shell, it's only that there's a gentle haze around her perception, nice and dreamy. It doesn't take much to pickle what is essentially a brain in a jar.

"Tell me to leave," her voice is just beside his ear, but she's looking at his screen, reading his files. One hand leaves the comfortable perch along his collarbone to touch a control, to set the display scrolling at a reasonable rate, "Tell me to stop, and I will."

[crusades]

He huffs when she interferes with his work. He can't read at that pace and she knows it. Still, at least he can feel justified in sinking back in her arms his chair.

"And where would you go?" he replies curiously, an eyebrow arching as he tried to crane his neck far enough around to read her expression, "You work here unless there's a security breach. You rest here, too. The only thing you don't do here is drink and that's already seen to."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

"Maybe I just haven't found something in the city that's to my tastes."

Liar. It was true, nothing in the city was up to her expensive standards, but the most important aspect was impossible to find. Even back home, she'd chosen an apartment that was within sight of her real home.

Neuropathy was comfortable enough for her.

"What's your excuse?"

[crusades]

"I don't drink," is the wry retort.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

"Mhhh," she lets it go, tilting her head slightly as she abruptly stops the flow of data, corrects some small detail, then sets it moving again. Her head is tilted ever so slightly against his; with sharp hearing, he might be able to hear the so-soft tick of her neck servos, pumping oxygenated fluid past the last few lonely brain cells.

"I can't taste it anyway."

[crusades]

Bruce hears like a bat. Of course, he has earpieces in the cowl to thank for it.

"It's my understanding that taste isn't really the point," and he'd feel a lot more vindicated in abstaining if he weren't watching her take the control he daren't lose to alcohol away from him. And right under his very nose, too, "But perhaps you should consider cultivating some other hobby."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

"I've got a few," aside from folding cranes and killing terrorists, she means— though stalking doesn't count, does it? "It's convenient is all; full-conversion cyborgs can't become alcoholics."

Taking control is what Motoko does, it's her lifeblood an standard mode of operation. That she can do it to Bruce so easily is what makes it fun. Watching the stoic, collected Batman forget himself is like teasing Togusa: it never gets old.

[crusades]

"As convenient as goading me?" he asks irritably, folding his arms and almost pouting with petulance.

#2 shut up I can do two if I want

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

It had been two years since she'd realized. Normally Motoko was the soul of patience, but the fact of the matter was that it was getting ridiculous.

So, quite naturally, one day she decided that it no longer mattered, seized Bruce by the collar of his cowl, and kissed him full on the mouth. She was very sure that it would seem to an outsider that she had done this for not reason at all. Then, she dropped him— shoved, really.

"Deal with it."

[crusades]

"I--" he just looked dumbfounded for several moments, shocked less by the gesture itself than by the taste of her. The texture of her mouth was deceptively convincing, firm and tender at the same time, but she had an almost bitter tang that clung to the tongue. It was unlike any other woman he'd kissed.

"Dealt with," spoken as more of a question than a statement.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

"Ha," she called over her shoulder, having moved past him as he'd stood, stunned. Neuropathy was kind in that it had that most coveted of things; floorspace, room to work. Here was not the cramped dark caverns she was once accustomed to, but something more akin to a proper working area, with counter space and cup-holders, and air.

He was off-balance, and she liked that. Motoko reciprocated by giving him time in the swing of her hips to decide on a reaction, and react this time.

[crusades]

Neuropathy's floor plan was especially charitable given its staff and the breadth of their (his) personal space. It was that sphere that Bruce, trotting after her, decided to break in reciprocation.

He came close enough that their arms might brush, that she could feel his breath against her neck-- or at least, whatever sensation her physical sensors would allow her.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

Motoko's body is one of the most advanced models on the market, possessing 16²/cm² skin tactile elements, meaning she has a greatly heightened sense of touch. This meant that she felt his presence in ways even he couldn't match, and so she stopped, waiting.

"Yes?"

[crusades]

In a very deliberate gesture he pulled the cowl back and away from his face. She had seen him without it before but never seen that moment before-- without the cowl that transformed him into Batman but before he could compose the less tangible one that marked his other performance as cool, collected and charismatic Bruce Wayne. For that moment he was merely Bruce, the wounded little boy who wasn't normally allowed to appear this frankly to other people.

"I'm open," he all but says, "Take of me what you will."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

Cool and charismatic was rarely the truth; he'd never really had her fooled in that regard. Motoko had long ago lost the knack for believing in things that weren't there, and had never been able to recapture it.

She turned, studying him out of a face that was irreverently, impossibly beautiful. Impassive, she watched Bruce, and then she touched his cheek and kissed him again, this time less tempered by violence, as close to 'tender' as she was likely to get.

[crusades]

This time he was was ready for it and kissed back, an arm slipping around her waist and nestling in the small of her back. Once he had pulled away, he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. It was a shock to the system to release the tethers on that part of him he kept shut away at all times and an unknowable fear made his blood run icy. Instead he focuses his attention on other things; the curve of her lip, the heat of her fingers against his skin, the weight of her shell and the sense of implacability that it ever lent her.

He was going to need guiding through this.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

It was a little shocking how quickly he bent and looked away. Was the strength of batman really only a shell? Her hand was still on his face, and she used it to guide his gaze up again, to meet her own.

"We can't both be the virgin, Wayne," Implacable, indeed; the Major's reaction to almost any strong emotion was to push it away, grow colder, more distant. Even now, she tried to put the veneer of sarcasm and impersonal insult between them, as much for his comfort as hers.

[crusades]

Bruce smiled imperceptibly and gave a nasal and good-humoured sigh, before sardonically responding, "Cute."

But if that was a challenge, well, didn't he have to rise to it? He ventured another kiss, more decisive in his movements as he tugged her closer. But since he didn't actually have the strength for it, it would appear to a third party more like he was bracing himself against her.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

It took her an agonizing few milliseconds to realize what he wanted, and she moved with only a minimum of pressure. It had been such a damn long time since she'd ever been so foolish as to start something with an all-natural human.

And she let him kiss her, let him take charge, and that annoying American tendency towards height was at least on his side.

[crusades]

He suspected that she wanted it that way, to take the onus of responsibility away from her. It was while he considered this and his next move when the thought occured to him:

"Why now?"