My 1,000th Post! Tamatoashiny123 Celebrates Thanksgiving (M/FFFFF)

[TamatoaShiny123]

I was sitting at my desk, looking at my phone...plotting.

See, I, Tamatoashiny123, wanted to write a Thanksgiving story. But I couldn’t, and I didn’t know why...

Wait, I knew why: I had writer’s block.

Suddenly, the door burst open. In walked a man with a familiar costume and a familiar fishbowl-looking helmet.

I gasped. “Mysterio! I thought I turned you into dust in the last story!”
“Foolish mortal!” the villain shouted. “Nothing can destroy Mysterio! Besides, haven’t you seen Endgame? Thanos’ snap was reversed!”
“Yea, but I released the birthday story in August,” I argued. “Endgame was released four months earlier. Shouldn’t you still be a pile of dust?”

We both stood in silence for a minute before Mysterio continued.

“Anyway...I hear you’re suffering some writer’s block. I can help...for a price.”
“What do you want?”
“Mmm...a cool five million bucks sounds nice.”
“Done.”
“Of course, you’ll never-wait, really?!”
“Yea, dude, sure.”
“Where on Earth will you get that money?”
“Don’t worry about it. Now, how will you help me out?”
“I shall use my magic-“
“You mean holograms?”
“DON’T INTERRUPT ME! Anyway, I shall use my magic to conjure up some perfect Thanksgiving guests. You can write all about your dinner with them.”

I grinned. “Deal!”
“Of course, I expect to be paid first. So, when you get the five million, contact me by-“
“Done.”

Mysterio looked down and saw that a large sack was now at his feet. He opened it up and gazed upon all the $100 bills in it. “How-where did you get all these?!”

I held my phone up. “I control the story, remember?”
“But if you control the story, can’t you just bring in guests yourself?” the villain asked.
I paused and stood in silence for roughly half a minute before finally saying, “Look, are you gonna take the money and do the thing, or what?”

Mysterio shrugged and started to shoot green smoke from his palms. “Very well, then. Let’s get this started.”

oOo

I sighed contently as I looked around my dining room table. “You know,” I said to my group members as we sat around the table, “I’m so happy that we could be together today.”

A chorus of “MMPHS” answered me back.

“Know what? If you’ll permit me, I’d like to go around and say why I’m grateful for each of you.”

I turned to Rapunzel. Her body was tied to the chair with her own long blonde hair. Her wrists and ankles were shackled to the chair arms and a strand of her own hair was tied between her teeth. “I’m grateful that you basically have a very long and indestructible piece of rope attached to your head.”

The blonde princess glared at me before her eyes glanced at the frying pan that I had on the kitchen table.

I turned to Zatanna. Rope pinned down her ankles, knees, shoulders and waist to the chair while her wrists were handcuffed behind her. Her mouth was jammed pack with cloth and several strips of packing tape were plastered over her mouth. “I’m grateful that you give me so many favorites on my stories whenever I tie you up.”

The magician looked confused for a minute before getting back to work at trying to get her gag off.

I turned to Batgirl. Her utility belt was on the other side of the table, far from her reach. She was bound the same way as Zatanna, but her gag was a purple ballgag. “I’m grateful that you’re in my most faved stories, specifically the Scarf Girl one. Don’t worry; you’ll be fighting her again soon.”

The redhead didn’t seem to enjoy the promise of fighting her scarf-themed foe and continued to longingly stare at her belt.

I turned to Honey Lemon. She was stuck to the chair with a green blob of her own chair. Another mini blob of slime was placed over her lips. “I’m grateful that you’re in some of my personal favorite stories, such as the one where you fight Shego, or the one when Baymax malfunctions and traps you in bandages, or the one when Gaston nearly kissed you.”

The memory of her kissing that muscular brute caused Honey’s cheeks to go green. Luckily, it was hard to notice due to the green that was enveloping her.

Finally, I turned to Spider-Gwen. Her arms were tied behind her together with her own webbing, as was the majority of her lower body. A bit of webbing was plastered over her lips. “And finally, I’m grateful for you, Gwen. Because of you, I can write scenarios of Spider-Man being tied, but only as a blonde chick.”
“You fiend!”

I looked up and saw that Gwen had somehow gotten the webbing off of her lips. “Let us go!” she demanded.
“No! Not until at least after dessert!” I responded.
“Why did Mysterio even give us to you?”
“Because I paid him $5 million.”
“Really? Because you don’t look that wealthy.”
“Mmm, I didn’t say it was legal tender that I paid him in. Meanwhile, it appears that your lips are available, Miss Gwen...”

I leaned in for the kiss...only to phase right through her, causing me to nearly crack my face on the mini projector placed on the chair.

“Right,” I told myself as I slowly raised myself back up. “Holograms...yea.”

oOo

Meanwhile

At the abandoned movie lot Mysterio called his base, the villain sat at his desk, plotting his next Spider-Man-ending scheme with his head “writer”, Guterman.

“Okay, how about this,” Guterman pitched. “What if we hire the Wrecking Crew to cause some chaos. You, under a new heroic identity, beat them up and you, under that identity, get close enough to Spider-Man to destroy him!”

Quentin shook his head. “I don’t want to interact with any other hero. They might see right through me.”
“Hmm...how about this: you pull a Snuffleupagus and disappear whenever another hero shows up. That way, it’ll make Spider-Man think he’s going crazy because he’ll believe that he’s the only one who can see you.”

The super-villain raised his eyebrow. “Add that to the ‘Maybe’ pile of ideas,” he ordered before turning to a random goon he hired off Craigslist. “How’s than money counting going? And I’d better not see a single bill missing from that pile.”
“Uh, sir,” the goon nervously began. “I’m not sure that these bills are...legit.”

Confused, Quentin got up and ran to the sack. He shoved the goon out of the way and grabbed a few of the bills. Examining one of the bills, he noticed that instead of Ben Franklin being on the bill, a picture of Tamatoa was on it. He looked at another bill, seeing another Tamatoa on it.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he dumped the sack’s contents onto the floor and started grabbing fistfuls of the bills, seeing that each and every one of the bills had a picture of the giant shiny crab.

As Guterman and the goon slowly backed out of the room as to not incur their boss’s wrath, Quentin fell onto his knees, looked skywards, and shouted at the top of his lungs:

”TAMATOASHINY ONE-TWO-THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

[Caesar73]

Fine idea - and well done!

[damsel]

LOLOLOL.....too funny! Sooooo clever, and really good to read when you can't sleep!

[Mask6190]

That was a very clever story, and congrats on 1,000 posts!

[slackywacky]

Great fun to read, well thought out.
Congrats on the 1000th post.

[Beaumains]

haha. Good story. I love you breaking the third wall.

Congrats on the 1000 posts, may another 1000 follow!

[wrathofcon]

A very fine 1000th post, Happy holidays, Tamato!

[RopemanSteve]

lolol....Mysterio! too funny, too cool.