imma be very reluctantly under the mistletoe - OPEN

[doggedly]

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE and ANYONE
LOCATION: EVERYWHERE and ANYWHERE there is mistletoe growing!
WARNINGS: lighthearted smooching thanks to some growling mistletoes - if it gets any heavier, mark your comments please!
SUMMARY: in the wake of Space Christmas, mistletoe plagues the hallways of the TQ. the mistletoe is semi sentient. some sprigs have eyes. some sprigs have eyes and mouths with teeth. some sprigs bite, some just growl, some whip tendrils of mistletoe toward you and keep you in the doorway until you get your kiss. this catch-all log is designed to facilitate any mistletoe threads you might want to play out. kiss people! get stuck! rescue people! tag in, tag around, do your thing!


start your mistletoeing below!

Comments

[sweetmotherofgod]

[So William missed out on space christmas

and if she was any kind of best friend she'd have - made him a gift, or secreted away a slice of pie (which she may or may not have initially tried, and may or may not have ended up feeding to Netherlands before it could find its intended recipient), or something.

She hasn't done any of those things. Which is why she's trying to make up for it now, by finding some nonmagical way to bust William out of his magical incarceration. There hasn't been a lot of planning involved here, as indicated by the way she's strapped her shotgun to her back and consulted with 0 magical-type people, but it's a moot point now anyway. Because there's mistletoe in the doorway, and sneaky little tendrils holding her in place, growing back faster than she can cut through them with her ever-present knife.]

[fullmoon]

[ Remus isn't planning to break William out of anything. In his experience, firsthand and otherwise, when Snape puts someone on lockdown it's generally for a good reason. For example, they might be trying to attack anyone and everyone on the ship. Or maybe they're responsible for making anyone and everyone else on the ship attack one another.

Remus has no idea what's wrong with William. He's doing unto others etc. and not being too nosy.

He's also still a little angry about the thing with Sirius and the bottle and the bleeding, for the record. Stopping by with candied nuts and a datapad lifted from the library and loaded with baffling space-muggle films doesn't mean he isn't angry. This is his standard angry behavior, making an occasional dig and otherwise pretending nothing is wrong, and this is his angry face--i.e., just as cheerfully pleasant as his usual face, plus presently a little sheepish and a little entertained at the sight of the woman ensnared by mistletoe in the doorway. ]

I can set it on fire if you'd like, but I can't promise I won't singe you.

[ Not with the hold it has on her. He stops far enough away that the mistletoe can't make a grab for him as well, but he doesn't reach for his wand yet. ]

[sweetmotherofgod]

No!

[That's panic rather than anger, although after the outburst her wide, round eyes narrow and her cheeks flush in a way that probably looks very similar to crabbiness.]

God. I spend more than two years here with hardly any fire at all, and now it's suddenly all fire all the time. I'm pretty sure it causes more problems than it fixes, these days.

[fullmoon]

Well, that's— [ dependent on whether or not you can control the fire, easily put it back out, all of that. But he did just say he couldn't do it without singeing her, because he can't. Not while it's wrapping around her like that.

So maybe he'll pick a different situation to argue with someone about how useful fire spells can be. ]

—probably fair.

[ He gives her a quick twitch of smile that's meant to be reassuring, steps closer, and then hesitates again. It isn't a particularly awkward pause, just a second chance for her to tell him to back off. ]

I might be able to petrify it.

open;

[righteously]

[He doesn't see the transmission for the warning, doesn't realize it's happening until it's nearly too late. If his first encounter had been a movie, it might have gone a little like this:

dramatic music begins to play

dun dun, dun dun, dun dun

ignorant, naive, unpleasant looking man walks unknowingly toward danger

music increases in tempo

the predator lurks above him

music reaches climax

the predator springs.]

Son of a bitch-

[He doesn't know what it is at first, not until he yanks it off of the back of his neck and hurls it at the ground. The culprit is friggin' mistletoe, and he gives it a scandalized look.]

Oh no. Oh hell no, I am not dealing with this crap again!

[And from there he bails. He's been through magical mistletoe before, and whatever world brings this plague upon the house of Winchester can straight up burn in hell. He spends the rest of his traveling time doing his utmost best to avoid doorways, but the mistletoe seems to learn to hide from him until he's passing through them. Inevitably, more often than he's proud of, he's caught unaware and trapped beneath one with a stranger.]

[mindtricks]

[ it's rather difficult to traverse a spaceship without occasionally passing through doorways. the best way to avoid the mistletoes that seem to spring up out of nowhere would probably be to just not traverse the TQ, but anderson isn't going to let the threat of a plant forcing her to kiss people stop her from going where she wants to go.

which explains how she finds herself under a doorway now with a guy who looks considerably more put upon than she feels. ] Hi. [ might as well say hello when the odds are good she's going to have to kiss him to continue on her way, right? ]

[righteously]

Hey.

[He greets, an endless amount of frustration in his voice.]

Come here often?

[The flat, annoyed deadpan makes it incredibly clear he's by no means hitting on her, that it's all pure irony. An unfiltered dislike of the situation. At least she's hot, female, and presumably human. It's the best he could ask for, apart from asking for mistletoe to not exist on any planet ever again.]

[mindtricks]

Never quite like this. [ his frustration is acutely felt — she could perhaps block the emotions and thoughts of others around her more strongly, but her mutation has saved her life at least once before and she isn't inclined to risk not having the advance warning it gives her. still, she's perfectly capable of separating his frustration from her own emotions, and so it doesn't show in the sound of her voice. instead, the word is neutral, calm. it could be worse, is what both tone and expression seem to say. ]

What about you? [ she adds a moment later. the only reason it doesn't quite venture into awkward is that she's got a soldier's posture and composure. ]

turns the awkward up to eleven

[fullmoon]

[ Remus isn't afraid of the mistletoe, no matter how many eyes and teeth it has, but maybe a little caution would have been useful. Maybe it would have kept him from being caught with a stranger in a doorway on a floor he doesn't even live on while both arms were loaded with packaged food (long story).

He has to jerk his head aside to avoid a whipping tendril, but he's smiling a little. ]

Doesn't have much of a sense of romance, does it?

[ He sounds amused. He is amused. The mistletoe is funny and a little charming, if you ask him, and, anyway, he has a wand. No one needs to kiss anybody else. He just needs to be able to reach his back pocket, and to that end he lifts one armful of food higher to draw Dean's attention down to it. ]

Hold this for me?

the halls are alive with the sound of discomfort

[righteously]

[This kid handles it a hell of a lot better than Dean has been so far, with the calm and collected patience of a guy that's used to this kind of bullshit. His tiny smile is about 200% more patient than Dean's blatant scowl, because this is like the fourth time in the last four hours he's had to go through this shit.

And it's not even the biting kind. It's the kissing kind. He's done a lot of screwed up shit, okay, but he's not frenching a teenage boy. He's seen dateline. He wouldn't be surprised if Chris Hanson stepped out from behind a goo pod and asked him to have a seat.]

No kidding.

[He responds flatly, but it quickly shifts to wariness when his attention is drawn to packages of food. He hesitates for a second, but eventually does reach out to relieve Remus of his edible burden.]

You stocking up for some kinda shortage I should be made aware of?

washes ashore with a beard talking to a volleyball (sorryyy)

[fullmoon]

The Christmas party cleaned my floor out of good meat.

[ "Good" meat. Even the best meat here is freeze-dried and artificially preserved. If he weren't a werewolf—if cooking his meat instead of eating it rare weren't already a sacrifice made the name of civility—he'd probably become a vegetarian. Instead he's apparently become a thief.

Packages successfully handed off, he's able to take his wand out. He tries taking a step back, too, but he's whipped in the back of his head by a tendril for his trouble. ]

Oh for... I'll light it on fire— [ Always a good idea. ] —but be ready to step back if it falls.

[ Or catch the flaming mistletoe with your head if you want. If you're into that. He won't judge. (And he's 22, for the record, but he appreciates not being frenched regardless.) ]

[mindtricks]

[ with world war three come and gone, with the population of the united states of america hidden away in mega cities that have walls designed to withstand the nuclear radiation wrecking havoc on the environment outside, with democracy deteriorating and too many people seeking refuge in drugs and apathy, some traditions have gotten lost.

christmas isn't one of them, but there are no more mistletoes in her world, and so the meaning of mistletoes is somewhat lost on anderson. the warning via the network is noted and filed away and her step is careful — but the warning isn't enough to keep her in her room or away from doorways.

the first time it happens, she's just sidestepping someone who arrived at the door the same time she did.

after that, she grows a little more careful, does a visual sweep of doorways before walking through them. sometimes it means passing through without consequence. sometimes, however, it seems the mistletoe manages to hide from the visual sweep and springs just after, when she thinks it's safe.

there are far worse things than this, so her frown whenever it happens isn't particularly pronounced. ]

[makedo]

[ brad colbert has been in more than one sticky situation in his lifetime. most of them have involved combat and life or death. scaling a mountain with a broken ankle? done it. invaded iraq? check. involved in a needless firefight in a kill zone? double check.

he has never, however, been caught by the wrists by tendrils of mistletoe and tied up in a doorway in a manner not entirely unlike heroines on the covers of terrible bodice ripper novels. never, that is, until now. ] You've got to be fucking kidding me.

[ tugging at the tendrils of mistletoe has no effect except to make them wind more tightly around his wrists, no matter how much of his not inconsiderable strength he uses. ] I'm not even Christian. [ but telling the mistletoe that wields no effect, and after some further struggles, he leans against the door and adopts an almost nonchalant attitude towards the whole thing, ankles crossed and everything.

dryly: ] Well, this is undignified.

[overdraws]

[ Allison's managed to escape her own imprisonment in her room; she's not going to let a little thing like mistletoe and kissing keep her trapped. Even if it was overzealous in it's attempt to get her to kiss someone.

She's marching through the corridor, intent on finding Sirius and getting him to fix this mess when she passes by Brad. She heads right past at first, only to stop, turn, and approach him slowly. ] Need help?

[makedo]

[ that had been brad's thought process as well: he wasn't about to let a little mistletoe stop him from going about his duties.

except look at him now. when she asks if he needs help, one of his eyebrows lifts sharply, though his tone isn't unfriendly. ] What's it look like?

[overdraws]

[ She shrugs a shoulder. She's friends with the king of sarcasm and dry wit, Brad, she's not going to take offense to anything. ] Maybe you like being tied up by mistletoe? I try not to judge.

[blackmagus]

[Fortescue had intended to go to Space Christmas, except a tiny part of her is still hard-wired to not go outside of her room. Part of her had wondered if all the people together would make things go back to the way they'd been. That paranoid part of her had won out, as it usually does; it's kept her alive for the better part of fourteen years. Disregarding it is slightly unnatural.

Except here she is, out walking, disregarding her paranoia in an attempt at "normality" (what passes for it, around here), and her cat's sudden yowl brings her out of any so this isn't so bad she may have been experiencing. Jazz has encountered the mistletoe first, trotting ahead of her, and hisses, arching his back, puffing his fur out as the mistletoe attempts to grab him.]

Watch it, furball—

[Jazz is lucky. He's small, fast, and dislikes plants except for chewing on. And, sometimes, rolling in. Fortescue is able to pull him back and away, but not before the mistletoe grabs her by the arm. She scowls as more threads around one of her legs, pulling her to it, and is about to light herself on fire to teach it a lesson when she notices something. An eye. Blinking at her.

And there's a growl from... somewhere within the green. Does that mean this thing is more alive than usual? It hasn't actually hurt her yet, does she really want to light a sentient thing on fire? This moral debate is what keeps her tied up, though she's also unsure of how the ship would handle a sudden (controlled) fire in one of its corridors. She's wary of sprinklers.

What Fortescue settles on is mumbling—]

You have got to be kidding.

[nutsaboutscans]

[It's a few seconds after that the mistletoe manages to grab John by the leg nearby. He stumbles a little with a curse as the mistletoe pulls him over to Fortescue. He pulls at the plant a little before looking up at her. He frowns, until he sees Jazz.] ...Fortescue?

[blackmagus]

That's me.

[Her smile is a bit strained, on account of being held hostage by a plant with eyes, but genuine. She's still debating whether or not to set it on fire. Although when some of it pulls John to her, a puzzle piece slides into place in her mind.

But is it really...]

Aggressive, isn't it?

OTA

[circumitus]

Rey has never been particularly festive. She's even less inclined after coming back to a charred living quarters and most of her possessions destroyed after the most recent shipwide incident.

Needless to say, she was not in the mood when a sentient plant thing with eyes and teeth fell down from her bedroom doorway, chasing her down the hall before she inevitably decided to take matters into her own hands. Literally.

As instructed, she's since left the crispy remains of the mistletoe behind in the common area of the second deck.

This time, she's decided to go and perhaps take refuge in the kitchen. A regrettable decision, when the vines come whipping downward, snaring around her neck in what was no doubt retribution for the death of its kin.

Or not. That's just Rey logic for you.

The tendrils aren't tight enough to choke her -- if she moves. For now she's stuck in the kitchen doorway, grinding her teeth.

"Going to burn you until you are dead." Which she tries; the red veins pulsing up her arm as she grabs the vines to incinerate the shit out of them. If she doesn't end up choking herself first.

so ota

[ex_gloves423]

[ gonna take the cake for world's laziest comment, cassel is backed up again a buttress as the mistletoe growls menacingly at him. he has his hands out tentatively, like he might try and pick it up, which is probably a stupid idea when it's baring its teeth, but he's wearing gloves and he's handled an angry lila-cat, could this really be worse? ]

Nice plant... good plant...

[mindtricks]

[ anderson isn't a martyr, no matter what people might think of her. she's not — yes, she wants to make a difference and she wants to help people, but while she's willing to go to great lengths to do so, she's not willing to pay any price.

kissing isn't so bad, though, and cassel looks as though he's about to be bitten by a particularly angry mistletoe. she's not approaching just yet, if only because she's not all that suave when it comes to things outside of her training as a judge, but, well — ] I don't think that's going to help.

fwd-dated. ota.

[striking]

[ surely the space mistletoe is under control by the time the klaxons sound to signal the jump? but just as katniss is heading towards medbay, she gets attacked by the whipping tendrils of one last rogue plant. this place gets more and more like the games every day. ]

[ she knows she needs to kill it and get past it quickly, because otherwise she's going to miss the jump. though she's close to the elevator. maybe she'll get lucky and someone will come by? ]

[ (really, she can only be grateful it wasn't over one of the lockers, where she'd have to negotiate a kiss in front of the entire population of the ship.) ]

just assumes CR why not

[alsohawkeye]

Oh shit. [ Katniss is in luck? sort of, as someone does come by. It's Kate, walking briskly toward the medbay as the alarms go off until she skids to a stop at the sight of the mistletoe blocking the hall and groans. ]

I am going to strangle Sirius Black. [ She says it all with a laugh, no serious threat in the words despite obvious exasperation. She swipes a hand through her hair, and smiles, crooked. ] Figures it's the one time neither of us have our bows.

[doggedly]

[The Space Mistletoe Gone Slightly Wrong But Also Sort of Right, as a prank, is not one to necessarily be boasted about. In the end, it ended up mostly amusing and in the spirit. Ruffled a few feathers, but everyone got to keep their eyebrows in the end, and there were some awful kisses, but--mostly--things are okay. And Sirius has done an admirable job of tidying up the leftover bunches (never mind that he put them there in the first place; a minor detail), so pats on the back all around, right?

Except on his way to the medbay for the jump, he hears the tell-tale rustle and growl, and comes around the corner to find--]

Katniss?

[Above their head, the growling intensifies. The mistletoe's single beady eye swivels madly around, seeking its targets, and Sirius shrinks back, reaching for his wand.

Which has already been stowed in his locker.]

Oh, bugger.

[As kissing prospects go, this is probably all right, but the mistletoe's not yet caught him. He motions, frantically, to Katniss. Look, over here, for directions--]

Step back.