memezilla | The Body Heat Meme

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The Body Heat Meme

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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He spares her one last glance, pale eyes watching her transformation--and yes, that all-too-familiar thrill of witnessing her ability resurfaces, as it always does, heating his blood; yet along with it is a sense of loss. She truly is far more alluring in her natural state.

Musings aside, he falls back, taking cover around the corner of the shack, using the relentless snowfall as a means of camouflage. The landscape around them is endless white, the ground untrodden, almost virginal in its undisturbed state. He closes his eyes, performing a more thorough sweep inside the shack, senses honing in on the pistol. Waiting. If someone were to move it, he'd prevent that from occurring.

There's no need. For as much as Mystique knocks and pleads for entry, the shack remains silent. Minutes pass. Erik bides his time, until the cold grows unbearable, and then he's turning the corner and gesturing sharply with the tilt of his head for her to enter the shack.

If someone is inside--doubtful, now--they'll deal with them accordingly. Now, it's a matter of finding shelter in this damned wasteland of snow.

Raven was all too happy to push her way inside, no longer able to feel any part of her body from the top of her head to her toes. She shouldered open the door with a crack of protesting wood, taking only the barest of moments to peer inside to be sure that there was no occupant ready to attack. But there was nothing. Perhaps it was simply just an abandoned hunting shack, that was left for when the weather was more agreeable?

Stumbling inside, Mystique was quick to change back to herself, the energy expended on looking unlike herself was more needed for making sure she didn't freeze to death. Body shaking, she fumbled around finding her way to the small woodstove in the far corner, kneeling down in front of it, eyes scanning desperately. "M-matches? Do you see any matches?"

The door groans shut behind him, wood creaking under the weight of the wind every so often. There's nothing to lock it, which should be concerning, considering the only feasible barricade is a flimsy table. Stiffly, he shoves it before the door.

Next Erik is rummaging through whatever knickknacks are scattered about. A stick of gum, pencils, some sheets of paper, a book, string. All worthless. "No." Clipped tone. A struggle to say even that much when he can't feel his lips. Though they may be in shelter, their accommodations are less than hospitable.

Made even less so when the only means of staying warm, aside from a stove they cannot use, is a flimsy blanket. More like a threadbare sheet of fabric than anything that will keep them warm. Nevertheless, he drapes the fabric, despite its stale stench, over Mystique's shoulders. Then he's tugging his helmet off and placing it upon the counter, pale eyes skimming their temporary quarters dispassionately.

"We'll survive this," he says, voice flat as he unsuccessfully attempts to rub warmth into his hands. "I can't say the same for the one who sent us here."

Shivering still, she gave him a thankful look. The blanket wasn't going to do much, but it was better than nothing. Raven kept looking around in what was seeming more and more like a fruitless effort.

Mystique understood why the mutant might have sent them here. The fear that might have led them not to trust anyone who came by asking too many questions. While she didn't want to kill him, she wasn't exactly pleased, and in the current moment couldn't find it in her to disagree with Erik's words.

She found her fingers growing less cooperative as she accidentally knocked a few used shell casings off the table and cursed under her breath, tugging the useless sheet tighter against her.

This sort of scenario brings back too many memories. Unwelcome memories of a body overcome by his surroundings, or those closest to him trembling (though Mystique's reasons are far different from his mother's). Suffice to say, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. No amount of compartmentalizing can completely help him in this moment.

They'll freeze like this. Necessity--the need for self-preservation--wins out over any semblance of propriety (not that he has a strong sense of that to begin with...). So he'll reach out to tug her closer, assuming she doesn't resist, before he moves to seat himself on the floor. And if she cooperates, he'll be tucking her smaller frame against his own, on his lap, his cape wrapped tightly around them both.

She doesn't resist, mostly because she doesn't have much strength to push away from him in the first place. But his warmth was a welcome reprieve and her face buried into his chest. She straddled him as they moved themselves to the ground.

It was a rather suggestive position, one they'd been in before. Of course, those times had led to far more exciting results that fighting to stay alive. Eventually her shivering stops long enough that she can at least think clearly enough to speak, "M-Maybe it will be warmer in the morning?"

One could only hope.

'Rather suggestive position' is putting it lightly. One made all the more so when he tugs his gloves off to smooth chilly hands up and down her equally chilly back. It might almost seem like an affectionate gesture, a comforting one--and perhaps, deep, deep down, it could be one; however, his mind is firmly set on warmth in this moment. So if those hands push her closer to him during this rubbing--until no space exists between their bodies--it truly is an innocent gesture on his part.

...Though that's not to say a memory or two doesn't drift to the surface of his mind as he recalls other instances where they'd found themselves in a similar position. It's been a long time since they last found themselves like this.

"If the storm lets up, perhaps." His chin lightly bumps the top of her head as he speaks. He doesn't say that he doubts it. "We may be able to see past our hands."

Mystique was desperate for warmth so any propriety there was left was gone as she reached up and then under his shirt to get her own hands against his skin, resting against his back under cloth.

Memories came to her too, but she was pushing them away, pretending that those feelings and desires didn't still exist in her. Yet they did, they lingered and would likely never fade.

"Mm." she managed by way of agreement, but she didn't sound like she particularly believed it anymore than he did, "We need to get a fire started somehow..." If they were going to last the night and not lose fingers and toes to frostbite.

She might as well have pressed handfuls of snow against his back, for the way he jerks under her touch. The abrupt movement grinds their bodies together, chest to chest, groin to groin.

Accidental. Nothing more. Yet his body responds to it all the same, his pulse picking up like a slow inhale. Fire, fire, he needs to think of that.

"A little warning, next time," he says, voice far too gravely, like stone grinding against stone. "Before you decide to use me as your personal heater."

She would apologize, but she doesn't feel that sorry- far too focused on her own pending hypothermia. Raven did gasp though at his jerk forward, the inadvertent grinding of her hips against him.

Accidental. Right.

Raven turned her head to look around again, for something that might help them. "Can you make a spark to start a fire? Metal against metal?" Perhaps the might work?

Accidental, yes. "Not with the screws holding this place together. And not with cutlery."

One an arm curls around her, settled against her lower back, keeping her pressed close to him. He reaches out with his other hand, fingers reaching, his powers grasping the gun from beneath a creaky floorboard and pulling it free. It drifts closer to them, settling within his palm.

"Three bullets."

She turned her head, keeping as close to him as she can still, eyeing the bullets. "I can find things to burn- put them in the woodstove." They would have to be quick about it although she was quite reluctant to move away from him and the warmth he provided.

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The Body Heat Meme

Hnn sorry for disappearing! Had to take RP break >.< Totally understand if you want to drop this

Naw, we can keep going, it's all good :) <3

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