goshdarnspam | (no subject)

mysterydrinkmeme

THIS MEME IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE INSANE COLLABORATIONS OF MADELINE AND ELLE. ♥

In this meme, there are four tables with four different drinks on it:
Red, blue, green, and orange.

Each of your characters gets to pick ONE color, and says their pick in a comment.

Once everyone has picked their drink, we'll reveal the effects of the color you chose, and you are now forced to act on them no matter what. Obey the roofies.

thedrinkeffects

RED: Has to sincerely confess their undying love to either Zero, Science, or Grimm in no less than six comments.
BLUE: Has to go to FanFiction.Net and recite excerpts from the first fic listed in their fandom for no less than ten comments (pick a random one off the MISC section if you don't have a category). Feel free to react accordingly.
GREEN: Goes and slaps every character in the meme on the ass..
ORANGE: Goes to imeem.com and embeds or links the first song that shows up when they type in their hero alias (or first name, if the first search comes up empty).

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The girl on the television was flickering as she screamed and ran away from the werewolf. The sound came through well enough, though; ominous music filling the small apartment. Neither occupant of the couch cared for the mindless monster movie. Badou was too busy dozing off, a trail of smoke curling heaven-wards from the cigarette hanging from his lips. Haine was amusing himself with finding pictures in the abstract shadows the flickering screen sent dancing over his partner’s sickly pale jaw-line. His musings were interrupted by the television connection blowing out, sending the fuzzy black and white lines of doom across the screen.

“Shitty connection,” Haine rasped out, not bothering to move. It was the type of evening where the oppressive heat and humidity forced everyone inside. Not even the gangsters were willing to come out and play.

“It’s the upstairs neighbour’s,” Badou replied to the ceiling, a plume of smoke following his words. He sighed, stubbing out the last of his cigarette, the next one already stuck in his mouth. The redhead flopped over, reaching for the remote, which may or may not have had batteries in it. It didn’t. Badou started to get up to change the channel but Haine stopped him with a gentle tug to his hair.

“Do you want to watch the pretty lines?” the redhead asked, falling limply back onto the couch, face up on the couch with his mile-long legs flung haphazardly near the lamp on the end table. He sighed as Haine’s fingers slowly carded their way towards his scalp. Tilting his head up, Badou wasn’t terribly surprised to see the blank look the white-haired man got when he was drowning himself in a single thing on his face now. The smoker sighed, lit a new cigarette and enjoyed the head massage. It was too hot to try and argue with Haine, anyway. The white noise of the broken television surrounded them like the blanket of hot humid air surrounding the stuffy apartment. It was a lazy sort of day.

...that was just retarded. Hell if I'm going to touch that, he probably doesn't even wash it.