body heat meme

[memed]

The Body Heat Meme



Post with your character! They're now stuck in a very cold place of your choice. It can be anything, such as a freezing chamber, a cavern or a small cabin in the midst of a blizzard. The choice is up to you.
Comment around! Now your character has some company in this bone-chilling environment. The two of them share two things in common: clothes completely unfitting for this weather (be they summer clothes or even lingerie) and a blanket.
A blanket? Yes, just one warm blanket and no other ways to escape the cold. The two of them will have to share it in order to stay alive in this weather. Don't worry, you're sure to find a common language in this terrible situation!
So, uh, have fun, I suppose. Try to not freeze to death!
Protip: friction and body heat are both excellent ways to fend off cold.

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i have to use this icon

[deusex]

[ A pact written in blood, maybe, or sealed with it -- either way it's inevitable and irreversible, but Mika doesn't even consider a possibility of that. He's never looked back to how things were, only how things will be, the world of possibilities that Orga has shown him since that day. That they could do anything, could be anything other than rats in the gutter, just a couple of brats taken off the streets. That's what makes this all tolerable. There is something at the end of all this, a means to an end so idyllic that it would sound unreal to anyone else.

That promise is as real to Mika as the breath in his hair, the warmth of his hand. ]

Are you done?

[ The hint of maybe laughter remains, a softness that matches the silence around them. His forehead bumps against the other's chin, a soft nudging as he guides his head to tilt up further to make room, and Mika unashamedly tucks himself against Orga better. He settles his own arm around the other's waist, sling it over the dip of it, tightening his grip minutely to pull them closer. Orga smells the same as usual - like oil and dirt, of smoky wind blown over the desertlands, of fire and embers. He breathes it in, holds it. ]

[counteracts]

[There was no turning back because there was nothing behind them. Endless rolling plains of arid red dirt leading to a city that had never been a home to them, which had actively tried to prey upon them in body and spirit and life. They might not have a whole hell of a lot here, but they had security enough to begin to foster some sense of autonomy to themselves, camaraderie to the other members of the third group. It was vital on multiple facets, perhaps the most obvious being that surviving was much easier to do when they had one another to look after. It was a feeling he had, that the bonds between the disregarded and disenfranchised would end up being the seed which would allow them to break their shackles and wrest freedom for themselves once and for all.

Big dreams for an orphan from the streets of a nowhere town on a backwater mining colony.

He laughs, a singular sound like a punctuation mark.] You know better than to ask that. [The voice is only a little more than a warm rumble in his chest. There was an intrinsic restlessness to Orga, one that he felt he owed to Mika, always keeping him thinking and moving forward. He rarely felt so perfectly at ease — Mika got all of that self-assuredness, his contentedness in the moment. In return, Orga spent his free time dreaming up next steps.

His fingertips cyclically trace bony landmark of his shoulder-blade, acquiescing to tilt his head upwards enough so that Mika could nestle into the hollow left by the curve of his neck. He can feel the warmth of Mika's breath against his throat. He feels Mika's arm loop over his waist and pull them flush together, and the chill of the hours of sentry duty feel miles and years away.

Orga's eyes are already shut, consciousness becoming wispy. He was tired. They were worked so hard it was the eventuality of every day.

But he finds the energy to say,] sleep here tonight. [It was a fairly useless request, since it would probably take a herculean effort to get up at this point, but it still stuck out to him to say. As for when the others came back to the bunk, he really didn't give a rat's ass; it's not as if many of them have too many illusions about how close they were regardless.]

[deusex]

[ a grumbled out sleep is all he says, the sound already slurred, barely audible, and Mika closes his eyes. Their legs tangle together, his fingers winding themselves a little more securely into the fabric of the other's shirt — stolen moment of tranquility, a brief respite in time.

He couldn't care less about what the others thought about this — it's something that's as natural to Mika as breathing, just another facet of their relationship; regret in exchange for impenitence, thought into direction into action and all the more besides. He didn't put a gun into his hand but Orga may as well have. He didn't hold him down, put a cloth in between his teeth when they drilled the machine into his back, pouring steel into the marrow of his bones, but he might as well have.

It's all his decision in the end, but at the end of the day, when everything boils down to it, if Mika is fire at Orga's heels spurring him on, he is the fire in distance to him that Mika reaches for. He won't let either of them to fall behind.

It only takes a few more minutes before his breaths even out, growing deeper and softer in sleep. ]