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

Entry tags:

crack rp

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.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yes. Me. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Do I look like a guy who knows where he is, MUCH less why?!"

Ugh, Grif. She doesn't have the patience to deal with you this early in the morning.

"Just... get off."

"I am off, do you think I want to be TOUCHING you?"

He crawls back.

"What the hell, why were you... with me..." he looks around. "Where are we?"

He certainly doesn't feel hungover...

"You think I'd... willing..." She shudders. "You're in my sleeping cubby I think."

"No, you're in mine. If we're in anybody's."

He pauses.

"I don't think we are."

"That makes no sense. I wouldn't be in anyone else's let alone out of one."

"Does any of this BS make sense? No? Get with it, Sweetcheeks, we're not in Kansas anymore. It doesn't matter where we were, we're here NOW."

He gets to his feet and surveys the room full of waking people, and the squishy thing he's standing on.

"I wonder how many violations I would get for leaving you off-ship on the next mission."

Samus stands up do along with... distancing herself from Grif as much as possible. She's got no idea what happened last night and she's not sure she wants to.

"Hey, don't freak out so much. I know I'm devilishly handsome, it's only natural."

This is the smirk of a soon to be dead man.

"Devilishly handsome?" She crosses her arms and looks at him, "Not the words I would choose."

"I've also heard dropdead gorgeous, but we don't have time for that."

Palm, meet face.

"Grif. Just be quiet."

"Who's gonna make me?"

He folds his arms. "You? Well, newsflash. You're still not the boss of me."

She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Fine, Grif. I'll just get you on our next mission. I'm going to to see if I can figure out what happened."

She fears for what she might find out.

"Personally I like to think that you just came to your senses about me, but we know how Stacy feels about the horizontal mambo."

Samus snaps her head around to give the death glare to Grif.

"No."

He sort of "fffff"'s in response.

"Well okay then." He looks around. It just seems to be a dim, soft room.

"There's too many people here," this could a very good thing as it means nothing happened between herself and Grif or... just a very, very bad thing."

"That doesn't mean anything," Grif reminds, having similar thoughts.

"Still. Like I said, Stacy's a prude."

"And I think I'm very grateful for that at the moment." Don't mind Samus, she's mumbling.

A head on a telescopic neck extended until it was between the two of them.

"So, tell me, which one of you miserable fleshbags was the one who received the pleasure of my sexy robot body? You left a rather sticky and disgusting mess all over it. Be a good pet and lick it clean."

"What?!" Samus steps backwards from the robotic head. And she gets an idea that doesn't involve punishing Grif with bodily harm.

"It was Grif."

(no subject)

ihatefleshyones.livejournal.com - 2009-06-24 04:23 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

whyarewehere - 2009-06-24 12:41 (UTC) - Expand

"," muttered a voice not far from them.

"Scary." Grif snorts. "Ghoulies first."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only