quaranmeme | MISTLEGLOW: a kissing meme

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!mod meme: holiday

MISTLEGLOW: a kissing meme

mistleglow: a kissing meme

Some residents may remember that back in September, a love-drunk and confusion-spell-addled newlywed mage from Gramarye Magic Research let loose some pretty little fairy lights that trapped people in the city in little invisible bubbles until they kissed (and any kind of kiss would do). Well, the same slightly-less-newlywed but no less romantically-inclined mage happens to really, really enjoy the winter season, and thinks it's totally romantic. That particular sentiment is pretty common in the Quarantine - while Hygge is the celebration of familial love, the residents of the Quarantine all agree that that family often includes partners and lovers. Besides that, the folklore of mistletoe as being representative of love and friendship is something that the Quarantine has in common with the universes many residents inhabit.

So, as the last week and a half of December rolls around, residents around the Quarantine will see the result of the resident romantic trying to share a bit of Hygge love - small, glowing sprigs of mistletoe will be floating around the Quarantine, ready to trap people up and make them share a bit of affection.

how it works

● Two or more characters walking under one of these glowing, floating sprigs will get stuck for one hour, trapped inside an invisible enclosure with an approximate three foot radius. The only options are to either wait out the hour, or to kiss! Characters will know they're meant to kiss, because part of the magic spell is the sudden and intense knowledge that they should kiss in order to break free. There is no compulsion to kiss, just the knowledge that that's how to get free. This time, instead of any kind of kiss working, there will be different types of kisses that will work to release the trapped residents depending on the color of mistleglow:

RED: MOUTH ● ORANGE: NECK ● YELLOW: CHEEK
GREEN: FOREHEAD ● BLUE: HAND ● VIOLET: BUTTERFLY

Trapped residents will not know what kind of kiss will work for each color and may have to experiment before finding the right one.

● Post up a top-level for your character with the types of kisses you're interested in threading out, and then go forth and have your character kiss (or refuse to kiss) others!
● This meme is for characters already accepted into the game to play with the mistleglow prompt from this month's test drive meme. If your character is not yet accepted into the game, please use the TDM post!
● This meme is GAME CANON, so any threads played out in this meme can be carried through into the actual canon of the game.
● Much like the TDM, threads on this meme can count for Activity Points, but not the monthly Activity Check.

header image is from santa's factory by Clement Danveau

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Ragnar looked suspicious of the claim and no more convinced when Dodger once again created fire.] That is your argument that you're not using magic? [At this point though, he just looked amused.

He momentarily eyed Dodger's hand and then gave the man a look as if challenging him to make the first move. In reality, he had no idea what they were supposed to be doing, but the smoke seeping out from between Dodger's lips was incredibly distracting.]

Rules? What is it that we are meant to do? [His eyes ended up back on the stranger's lips. He didn't seem to have any shame when it came to looking, at least.]

Either you kiss me, or we'll be stuck under this thing for an hour.

[He speaks evenly, as if explaining to a child. It hasn't escaped his notice that Ragnar is watching his lips; he's always been distinctly aware of his own good looks, more so than is good for him. He knows that look, and it's so very satisfying to see it on a man that he's interested in himself.

He moves a bit closer, taking another drag from his cigarette and breathing his smoke slowly into the man's face. By the time the action is done, their faces are meer inches apart and there's a spark of mischief in his eyes.]

So, what'll it be?

Just an hour? [He feigned weighing out his options.] Maybe that is the wiser thing to do. I wouldn't want to be tricked into kissing an eldþursar.

[Dodger likely would've sealed the deal if it hadn't been for the smoke. He couldn't help but breathe it in, which was no worse than sage or smoke from a fire, though it did smell slightly different, acrid. It was enough to start to make his eyes sting and a definite distraction. He shifted his weight, putting just another inch or two of space between them.]

What is that? [He was sure he'd never seen anything like it before. Perhaps the smoke was part of the ritual the man may or may not have been performing on him.]

[There's a hint of annoyance when the distraction comes up, but it isn't the first time he's had to explain cigarettes. He'd offer him to try it, but the man's suspicious enough already he'd likely think he was trying to kill him when he inevitably choked on it.]

It's called a cigarette. It's for, ah... recreational smoke-breathing. [He shrugs, taking another drag and being kind enough to blow it to the side this time.] Is it really that important right now?

[Well, if he didn't want it to be a distraction, he should try to refrain from blowing it in peoples' faces.]

It's important if I'm going to start seeing things that aren't there. [Recreational smoke-breathing?] Will you taste like it smells? [He hadn't decided yet whether that would be a good or a bad thing. There were likely worst tastes than ash.

At least they were back on track and focused again on possibly kissing.]

Edited 2017-12-23 00:06 (UTC)

Nah, not this type... but, if you play your cards right i might show you the type that does do that to you.

[That topic is over with, though. For now. Instead he leans closer again, lazily crushing the half of his cigarette that's left in his palm and letting the dust scatter in the breeze.]

Are you gonna sit there asking questions, or do you want to find out?

[Ragnar rolled his eyes in annoyance and before Dodger had even finished his question, he grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him forward, kissing him hard.

He did taste like ash, but it wasn't terrible.

What was terrible is how they were still in the same predicament when he broke the kiss. He glanced around, still holding onto a fistful of Dodger's shirt, and then turned back to the stranger.]

You lied. [He practically growled the words.]

[Something about the blend of ash and whiskey make Dodger's taste oddly alluring, and he tends to use that to his advantage.

There's a grin on his face that works itself into the kiss, as he eagerly presses back into it, even slips his fingers along the rim of the man's pants as he really gets into it.

And then he's shoved back, and the bubble hasn't burst. He figured it wouldn't, he's already broken free from red mistletoe. They're the easiest ones to get through. Still, it takes him a moment to notice Ragnar's accusation, as he's a bit dazzled by the moment they just shared.]

Fucking christ... [He moves to push Ragnar's hand off of him; he'll notice that trying to fight Dodger's movement is a bit like fighting against a steel door. He's far stronger than a man should be even at peek fitness.] ...Not still blaming me for this, are you? These things are finicky - I've run into a few of 'em, they don't always unlock on the first try. Like a shitty key, yeah?

[Ragnar snarled, but let go of Dodger, giving him another little shove as he did so.]

Blaming you for trapping us? No. [His eyes narrowed.] Blaming you for tricking me? Yes. [He was easily as angry at himself for falling for it as he was at Dodger for having the balls to do it.] Clever. And I fell for it. It will not happen again. [His accent thickened with anger, each word terse and clipped, though on the surface his expression remained an icy, annoyed calm.

As much as he hated that he'd just been tricked, he took a step back, resisting the urge to strangle the man in front of him.] It is just an hour. We wait.

[It really isn't just the appearance... that temper reminds him of starkly of Ivar. It makes him wonder if there's some deeper connection there, or if Vikings are just shitty party guests. Either way, he almost looks disappointed when Ragnar backs off - but that's just an excuse to push his luck.]

Seriously? Didn't get free, so we're just gonna freeze our asses off out here for an hour and not touch each other. [He pauses, considering smoking again but that'll just lessen the chances of getting another kiss. Instead he just approaches Ragnar again, either to press their bodies together or trap him against the edge of the bubble.] You seemed pretty eager before, you gonna give up that easy?

[Dodger earns himself an icy glare.]

Are you cold? [Ragnar feigned sympathy, but it mostly just came out sounding smug. He felt rather comfortable at the moment. Dodger stepped forward and Ragnar stood his ground, staring him down.] Eager? Or trying to make you shut up?

The kiss didn't work. Why do you think a second one will? [Even as he asked, it was difficult to deny that same subliminal push to kiss the other man again. He caught himself staring at Dodger's lips again. His gaze flickered up to meet Dodger's, giving him a goading, challenging look. If he wanted to kiss so badly, then he could make the next move.]

[If anything, the sarcasm just makes him snicker. He's very used to people just trying to make him shut up, get things over with, give him what he wants so he'll stop whining. It stopped bothering him a long time ago; the important thing is that he'll get what he wants.]

Like I said, magic is finicky... and don't act like you weren't into it.

[That challenge in his eyes, though, is something Dodger absolutely can't resist. His eyes spark with excitement, as he tugs Ragnar a bit closer by his beltloops and presses kisses to his lips that feel almost a bit like being licked by a dog - rapid, light, trying to earn affection. Though before long he'll try to deepen it into another proper kiss.]

[His smirk turned predatory and heated as Dodger pulled him forward by his hips. The rest of his body seemed to follow with a slight delay so their hips met fist. He parted his lips, but didn't move to reciprocate immediately.

When Dodger moved to deepen it, his hand went to the man's throat. It was just shy of threatening, enough pressure to keep him from pressing in for the kiss.

There was a glint of something in Ragnar's bright eyes, an enjoyment that stemmed from the sense of control alone. What he was waiting for wasn't clear, but he was keenly watching Dodger's face, looking for some minute, undefinable change. Whatever he was looking for, waiting for, he apparently got and smirked as he closed the distance between them. The kiss felt more like an invasion, violent and rough, his hand still wrapped around the front of Dodger's neck.

He took a half step forward, half stumbling as he basically moved into the space Dodger was already occupying.]

[The hand on his throat makes him grin, that sick little grin that haunts every man that tries to deny his advances with violence. For a moment he strains against the hand, playful if anything, before letting Ragnar hold him back and watching him with a fire of lust in his eyes.

When the Viking kisses him, it's like he's suddenly remembered how to breathe - like the world had turned gray months ago, when Eichi had left, and suddenly it was back in vibrant color as soon as Ragnar's lips crushed against his.

He stumbles backward, but keeps pressing back into him, gripping his shirt sloppily and shifting his hips just slightly out of habit. God, he could drown in this moment, and die happily.]

[They stumbled back and, if anyone were watching, they might've thought the two were locked in a fight if they could not see they were also kissing. Dodger's back thudded against a wall, jolting them to a sudden halt. The jarring stop drove Ragnar's teeth into the shorter man's lip, filling the kiss with the faint taste of blood.

Dodger's hips pressed against his hard enough to earn a sharp inhale as he ground back shamelessly. With less space between them, he moved his arm, his hand sliding up from Dodger's neck to bury roughly in his hair. Without hesitation, he gave the handful of hair in his hand an insistent tug, trying to force Dodger's head back, already pressing lips and teeth to the exposed skin hungrily.

Without warning, he suddenly stopped, completely freezing, breath panting against Dodger's neck as he peered around. With a soft chuckle, he let Dodger's hair go and started to untangle himself from the other man, lips still parted and swollen from the kiss, pupils blown.]

You were right. [He exhaled the words breathlessly, smirking; they were no longer trapped. He wanted to stop as much as Dodger did, which was to say, not at all, that much was painfully obvious, but it was an important show of control, a nonverbal reminder that he, not Dodger, was calling the shots.]

[The feeling of his back hitting the wall shocks him, if only because he'd forgotten anything existed other than their two bodies. He lets out a hiss as his hair is pulled and his fingers dig into the wall behind them, chipping and warping the wood under his superhuman grip.

And then that intense pleasure is gone, and he's left panting and staring up at the larger man with an expression of betrayal and confusion he just can't hide from him.

Just like Augustine, he thinks, with a prickle of absolute arousal.]

See? Told you. [He pants quietly, his eyes half-glazed and pleading.] We had a good thing there... We gonna keep going, or what?

[The look of confusion is met by one of absolute smugness.]

You did. I did not believe you. [It wasn't a direct confession, but if Dodger was clever he would understand that Ragnar had just admitted that he hadn't kissed him a second time because he thought it would free them.

He raised his eyebrows at the question, a hint of a smirk trying to tug at the corner of his mouth.] What, here? I thought you were worried about freezing.

[So... that definitely wasn't a 'no'.]

[Well, Dodger is fluent in subtext. His eyes sharpen a bit at the hint, and that cloaked offer has him taking a shaky breath. He stands up a bit straighter, and glances around to reassess his surroundings. It is cold, but Dodger can't feel it. He's never really been able to feel the cold. But that doesn't make this a good place to get laid.]

My place is a couple blocks away. [He offers him a hand.] You take my hand, and I'll get us there. If you don't mind a little more... magic.

[Ragnar looked deeply skeptical, wary to give anyone permission to use magic on him. It seemed like asking for trouble.]

What are you going to do? [He pressed his lips together, not liking this at all.] Do not turn me into anything. [He swore, by all the gods, if he was turned into a goat he would find a way to murder Dodger. Somehow. Reluctantly, he put his hand in the other man's though.]

You'll see.

[Cryptic as always, Dodger grips Ragnar's hand and takes a moment to catch his breath before teleporting.

From Ragnar's perspective, the world seems to explode in colors and sparks, as if reality itself is a piece of paper that's been torn and burned in a flash. Momentarily it mends itself back together but they are in a different place, and then again that bursts around them. Eight more times the process repeats until reality finally reasserts itself in a small and cramped studio apartment, littered with alcohol bottles of various levels of emptiness, with laundry on the floor and walls covered in photos and notes on the various citizens of Riverview, and a large dog with a purple-and-black collar sitting on the kitchenette floor, looking up curiously as they enter. The dog seems to share a silent look with Dodger, before laying his head back down.

And Dodger, having exhausted nearly all of his energy, stumbles against the wall with a few curses under his breath before tipping backward onto the bed (which is really just a mattress on the floor) to catch his breath.]

[Honestly, when everything was done, Ragnar was shocked he was still on his feet at the end of it. When his vision seems to clear to reveal a small, lived in room, he stumbled towards the nearest wall, needing something to lean against as he waited for his head to stop spinning. He had never regretted something so quickly.

After a moment, he straightened and gave his head a shake like he was clearing the last of side effects. He glanced around as he pulled his boots off and started working on his leather cuirass, his armor built into his shirt, which meant he was simply wearing it all the time. It was a little more complicated than just pulling it off, so he decided to just start the disrobing process while Dodger gathered himself. He tugged at the leather strings that went up the side of the cuirass, slowly working himself loose of it.

Scars were to be expected, on both of them, if their faces were anything to go by, but the scars that covered Ragnar's body were all large and jagged, a record of battle wounds delivered by blades and then healed without the use of modern medicine. Most noticeably was a huge scar that wrapped around from the front of his chest, around his right arm and ended just above his shoulder blade where it widened and was crossed by another. It was obviously old, long since healed, but a number of large, fresh scars covered the front of his chest. Two, in particular, a large cross just below his collarbone, deep, from an arrow that had narrowly missed hitting his heart and a long gash that started just below his ribs and went diagonally up and across his chest spoke of a recent battle that he was lucky to have made it out of alive.

He dropped the cuirass to the floor with heavy thunk.]

[Teleporting so much in such a short amount of time has Dodger completely dazed, but he pulls himself out of it as best he can to watch. Once he's managed to prop himself up with his elbows, his eyes immediately lock onto Ragnar's movements, and as the cuirass hits the floor he seems to be trying to memorize every inch of the man's body. So many scars, so many dips and ridges where skin had healed improperly, proving that the man had survived, not just lived. It makes Dodger almost regret choosing to have his eye remade, feeling a bit soft and well-kept in comparison.

Belatedly, Dodger sits up and works on yanking off his hoodie and shirt and dumping them on the floor. It's a quick motion, made a little slower by his aching muscles. Underneath his skin is mostly unscarred - he's too quick for most people - but he reveals a nautical star tattooed on the side of his neck, a sigil of baphomet on the left side of his chest, just over his heart, and the outer branches of a huge scar running across his back in the shape of a lightning bolt. There are so small scars in other places - a stab wound here, a slash there - but none seem as noticeable as the ones Ragnar has gained. And curiously enough, those bandages wrapped around his wrists stay firmly in place. As do the twin necklaces he had been hiding under his shirt; one silver with a sun charm, and one gold with a heart-shaped locket.

More than ever, Dodger looks like a dog as he watches the older man, watching for instructions with the bright-eyed anticipation of reward.]

Edited 2017-12-25 12:39 (UTC)

[Unabashedly, his gaze raked over Dodger's body. He was actually curious about the tattoos, but now wasn't the time for a show and tell.

With the difficult cuirass out of the way, he left his pants on. They would, no doubt, be coming off, but they took a lot less untying. He closed the small distance to stand beside the mattress. After the briefest of pauses, he gave Dodger's ankle a nudge with his foot, wanting him to spread his legs apart.] Make room.

[He doesn't need to ask twice; Dodger almost unconsciously spreads his legs, his eyes still locked on Ragnar as if under a serpent's spell. He isn't even thinking about the implication, not yet - his only thought is that he's willing to do absolutely anything to get this man's skin against his.

His fingers are nearly shaking as he reaches to pull Ragnar closer by the belt of his pants, leaning up to greet him with an eager kiss.]

[He sank down onto the mattress, kneeling between Dodger's legs. The outreached hands were at first batted away and then he got annoyed and did his best to catch them by their wrists, wrestling them down to pin them above his head. Leaning completely over him to pin his wrists above his head, he found Dodger's mouth with his for a quick, heated kiss that he pulled away from almost as suddenly as he'd started it. He was, regrettably, out of hands now, but for the moment he would do his best to avoid any attempts to reignite the kiss, if only because he knew that it was what Dodger wanted.

Stretched out over him like he was, Ragnar could now readjust his position slightly, shifting his weight to bring their hips flush together. He bit his lip to keep from moaning as he ground down against the other man, slow and deliberate, eyes glued to his face to catch every reaction.]

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