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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

[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.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

"You haven't asked me to leave," she pointed out mildly, turning her head to give him a sidelong look. Dangerous ground, this, and she only narrowly quashed the swell of fear that threatened to kill her buzz.

She didn't want adrenaline right now, dammit. She wanted to forget.

[crusades]

"No, I haven't."

It's not an admission Bruce wants to spell out, but he'd already dodged the question once. Being even more evasive probably isn't wise when she could easily convert the nest of her arms draped around his shoulders into a chokehold.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

He'd said it himself— the point wasn't the taste, it was the alcohol. That was true, for most people, but for a cyborg like the Major, taste was the only genuine high left.

She could only taste a narrow band of flavors; actually she was surprised he hadn't caught on to it yet. It wasn't much of a secret.

Damn, but he was a buzzkill; Motoko unwound herself to retrieve glass from where she'd set it on the console opposite Bruce's back. He hadn't asked her to leave, so she'd gone anyways. A long drink re-stimulated the micromachines, and in a minute she didn't give a damn any more.

[crusades]

It isn't so much that he hasn't noticed there are things she can't taste, even if that's a feat in itself when ninety percent of the food available on the ship is a tasteless protein paste anyway. And while he can imagine that there are applications for a combat cyborg with a limited palette, he hasn't yet afforded himself the time to put any thought into it.

He hadn't meant to be a buzzkill, either. She didn't poke the bear without expecting a reaction.

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

It's not a feature, Bruce, it's part of the cost.

"You don't drink. Any particular reason?"

[crusades]

"I've been poisoned a few too many times for any form of intoxication to be all that appealing," is the noncommittal reply. Of course, he'd never even started drinking.

Some turn to drink because they believe it helps them cope with trauma. One could say that coping wasn't something that Bruce ever wanted to do with his.