insertmeathere | Meatpile of Mystery! (Open Crack Threading!)

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Meatpile of Mystery! (Open Crack Threading!)

(Inspired by silliness in chat and the not!kink meme)

Your character(s) went to sleep in their usual cubby hole in the sleeping halls.

All seemed well and normal.

But this? This is weird. They wake up to find themselves in a pile on something soft, entangled with various other crew members.

The natural response, I believe, is "What the HECK did I do yesterday?!"

At least most of you are fully clothed...

(Yes, there is a perfectly innocent explanation for this. But your characters don't know that.)

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"It's true." A much older Cassie Lang spoke. "I have a great rack." She then closed her eyes, rolled over and went back to sleep.

Willow??

Well, hey, usually creepy voice taking a lay of his brain involved her. Hence his confusion when he woke up more.

"Whoops, wrong redhead with mind powers."

"By Lex Luthor standards, which are the highest in the world. So if we did, you got the better end of the exchange.

"But..." he gestured towards the plantsuit he was still wearing, "...if you consider the fact that we're still fully clothed, you likely weren't fortunate enough to get a world class Lexing last night.

"Though that still doesn't explain why you're on top of me right now, Ms. Lane. Or is this how you get your top stories?"

"I thought it was already there?" The arm knock prompts another hiss from Toxin, but a glare from Pat quickly shuts the symbiote up. Pat frowns as he tries to make his own way out of the pile. "This is like the Twister game from hell."

"It's a game kind of like this, although usually everybody knows what's going on and it isn't as awkward. ...Also, there's fewer people to step on."

Kang nodded in agreement. but he important matters to attend to.

"Now where did I leave my armor...?"

Ghani mumbles under her breath and tries to roll over. ONLY she finds she can't because someone's arm is tossed carelessly across her stomach, and there's someone's leg hooked over hers.

Her eyes snap open and widen. Her eerie blue eyes dart franctically from side to side as she tries to figure out exactly how she's gotten into this particular situation.

This was not particularly a very good position for her to be in.

If it's a delicious young man, we really shouldn't care... An annoying voice whispers in her mind.

"What?!" She mutters but decides to ignore the memory of her Great-Grandfather Vladimir Harkonnen.

Struggling for a moment, she sighs and nudges the person whom the arm belongs to. "Do you mind?" She finally askes.

"No, I'm not Willow," Jean mumbles and turns so she can sit up.

Her eyes widen when she realizes that she's kinda... sorta... very naked.

"What the...?!?!" She looks over at Xander with narrowed eyes. "What exactly happened?!" It better have been nothing! This was not good, not good AT ALL!

"Lexing? You seriously call it a LEXING?" Lois has heard bad puns, but that one just took the cake. She shoves herself off of him, hard, perhaps almost elbowing the Robin kid in the process. Whoops.

"I don't need THIS––" she gives a rather aggressive gesture at her own body "––to get the stories. I use my HEAD. It's a shame most girls work with the opposite, because when those bimbos are focused on your body, they're clearly missing the whackjob personality."

Sheeana shifts, stirs, comes to wakefulness. Conditioned reflexes cause her to sweep her feet under herself and come to the posture of readiness, prepared for violence.

Her eyes, the same blue within blue as Ghanima's go wide with surprise, no mean feat for a Bene Gesserit. Next to her was a face out of other memory and history books. Ghanima Atreides...A face dancer! Did Mother Superior really send me to bed one of those things?!

"Where is your master, face-dancer?" She growls. If they're waking up like this, she's gotten what she needs out of it anyway.

Xander meanwhile wasn't wearing much more. There was half of the plant suit but his top was bare.

"I'm thinking wacky spell of badness? Even if the room is saying drunken orgy leftovers."

"We didn't...." She glances around almost nervously because for the life of her she can't remember anything from the night before. "Did we?!"

Oh yes, Jean's totally trying to cover herself up.

Can't a guy get a few damn hours of sleep anymore? Nathan grumbled as he woke up, and placed his hands on random people's back and shoulders to prop himself up. It was too hard to fly being weighted down and caught like this.

All right, waking by a good looking redhead (Lyta) or a blonde would be one thing, but an orgy the morning after? Not exactly. Funny, his head felt fine though.

"What the hell?"

Tim grimaces, trying to work his way away from these two. "Um. Ow. I... really need to not think about you two Lexing, or sexing, or whatever, because--" Ugh. Superman's wife and his worst enemy. Tim doesn't think there's enough brain bleach in the world to help him erase that thought.

"True. Also, Twister rules stipulate a player limit, and no two limbs may occupy a single space. That game is usually associated with physical excitement, and I would hardly describe this involuntary encounter as pleasant." That awkward subject, bringing up memories of his friends' junior high parties, catapults Billy right back into verbose mode.

Risking drawing further ire from the others in the pile, he gathers his strength and attempts to jump out. Wrenching his hands free, he feels around the open air and discovers that they're on an elevated platform.

"...well, there's another complication. We're slightly elevated, meaning that we'll likely have to fall out."

He sat up with a quietly amused smirk on his face.

"When we get back to our planet, remind me to ask Ollie about your 'head' and how you used it to get stories out of him. But, in the mean time, one of you could make yourselves useful and figure out why half the crew is down here."

Ghanima frowns and shakes herself free of the leg and rises to her feet. Thankfully she's one of the fully clothed ones.

"I am not a face-dancer." She snaps, feeling more than a little offended.

She lifts her chin and stares at Sheena. "I'm Ghanima Atreides, tha daughter of Paul Muad'Dib Atreides. Who are you?"

She yawned loudly as she stretched her arms over her head. Her back cracked slightly, as she ran her hands through her hair. She couldn't remember falling asleep, but with all the thoughts running through her mind, she wasn't as surprised as she should have been.

Blinking open her eyes, she gasped slightly. This was NOT the Avengers Mansion.

"Where... where am I? What happened?"

"Then you're a ghola. When I arrived at this place, Ghanima Atreides had been dead for thirty five hundred years and I am your distant descendant." Sheeana scoffs. It must be...Did Scytale...That disgusting little man.

"Why does the sisterhood keep trying to persuade me to bed gholas..." She says, almost too quiet to hear. Honestly, wtf is up with that, Bene Gesserits?

"I'll tell you when you're older." Pat manages to free himself, idly brushing away a few tendrils that Toxin is flicking in annoyance. Peering over the edge, he frowns as he attempts to judge the distance. "Slightly's better than really?"

Ghani's eyebrows furrow and she just openly stares at the obviously delusional woman. OBVIOUSLy, because she's not dead - thank you very much.

"I am not a ghola, and I'm not dead." She glares at Sheeana. Duh, she's standing right here, how can she be dead??

"Did Alia put you up to this?" Seriously, Alia had been acting strange lately, wouldn't surprise her in the least.

"Just because you don't remember it doesn't mean it didn't happen, sister-of-the-tyrant. The tleilaxu probably reprogrammed you that way."

Sheeana matches her with an identical expression. At the same time she says: "Did Duncan put you up to this?" She infuses the question with a bit of Voice.

Oh he did not just say that. Lois seethes. She might just hit him. After all, it's not exactly illegal here, and what can he do?

"And people think I'M crass. Jabs at my relationships? What, Lex, is that the only offense you've got without your money and your security guards and your corporation?"

"No. It's not."

And though his voice was steady and calm, it carried a certain weight. You really don't want to know what else he has up his sleeves, Lois.

Ghani's fingers instinctively curl around the handle of her Crysknife. "How are you insult my brother! He's no tyrant!" She's about ready to put this woman in her place.

And he's dead.

Kinda makes that one hard.

Now it's her turn to scoff at Sheeana. "Your mind tricks won't work on me. You say you're descended from me, wouldn't you already know that if it were so?"

He could have all the weight in the world on that tone and she'd still run headfirst into it, just to call his bluff.

"Prove it."

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Meatpile of Mystery! (Open Crack Threading!)

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