BECAUSE IT'S THAT TIME OF YEAR

[oneirism]

Mistletoe Meme

 

Huh... There's a mistletoe right above you... That's weird, it's Decemb-- oh wait it isn't December in-game, but still! And look! There's a someone else stuck with you under there right now! And, of course, you both can't move until you kiss one another (Of course, not specifying where that kiss needs to happen).

RULES:
»POST with your character and their canon.
»SPECIFY Prefs, if any.
»TAG all the people!

»if you'd really rather avoid the kiss, fee free to replace "kiss" with "tell a secret"!

Comments

[babermetrics]

[Right. They might think these two guys are standing here making out because they're into making out with each other or something crazy like that.

Definitely not the situation here at all.

Leon nods, and then laughs at William's stupid sarcasm; it comes out with a tinge of hysterical relief that he himself didn't expect to hear. Because that there is where it hits him that William is still being his stupid sarcastic self and calling him a friend. He's still . . . William. It's not like the entire world changed just because they kissed some and liked it and are about to go kiss more. Somehow, despite everything, things still feel the same.

Who knew? But man is that a weight off Leon's shoulders. He flings an arm around William and squeezes, companionably, and then starts steering them for the door.]

Yeah, yeah, you don't have to tell me twice! Sooooo, uh . . . my place okay?

[notsolomon]

[the laughter does actually remove most of the tension though. If Leon's not bothered, then why should William be? This is technically one of the most terrible things he's done. And yet, it's not actually been terrible or life ruining. And it really doesn't need to be.

He just smiles and sighs because at this point he feels like it's all going to be okay. Somehow. Maybe. What's the point of worrying anymore?]

Yes that is fine. My place wouldn't work. Kevin would not... approve.

[More like Kevin would kill Leon he thinks as he opens the door. The murder of one's friends by one's servants is poor form.]