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

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.) ]

wilsonnnn

[righteously]

[The answer has Dean arching an interested eyebrow, glancing down to inspect the package.]

Huh.

[Is his only answer to that, but it might be decidedly approving. Far be it from him to judge another man over a box of meat.

Moving right along.

Yeah, no, that's a wand Remus pulls out, and while Dean might not know who he is exactly, he knows where he's from in .2 seconds. He's seen James wave his stick around enough that there isn't a doubt in his mind.]

Go for it, champ.

[He encourages mildly, because he's wanted to torch one of these suckers since he first spotted them cropping up. When Remus does ignite it, Dean does everything in his power to keep the flames out of his precious box of meat.

Meat = sacred.]