Rose Lalonde ☼ TentacleTherapist (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
roseate) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thoughtformed2013-03-03 01:53 pm
roseate) wrote in thoughtformed2013-03-03 01:53 pm
Entry tags:
incredibly backdated to the worst valentine's day ever
Surprisingly, the worst part of the entire thing wasn't being auctioned off against her will for an exorbitant sum of money to a near-totally omniscient bulbous asshole who frequently replies to his own questions for her.
The worst part wasn't being forced to drink tepid tea on a sunny afternoon in a chinzy deli that no self-respecting teenage girl would be caught dead in, no matter what pretensions she chose to adopt that day, with a tutelary demigod who had easily conned her into blowing herself up. The outcome of such trickery being inevitable and ultimately beneficial, of course, did little to cancel out the affront of it.
The worst part wasn't even listening to him talk about clocks for the first half an hour, as threatened.
No, the worst part was that Rose had expected to at least foist some of her unhappiness off onto her own flesh blood and ectoslime. One would think that after offering to sell everything he owned to assist in keeping her from having to be in this position in the first place, her idiotic knight of a brother's presence in the same chinzy deli would be one of commiseration and a promise to at least try to stick a sword in him at some point. Instead, she could see the reflection of crude superheroes riding phalluses into explosions in his sunglasses. Across from him, her other well-meaning-but-ultimately-useless would-be bodyguard snickered, said "Yo," and added another doodle to the tablecloth.
Maybe she was a little psychic. Maybe she could think angry words very hard in their direction. Thanks, Jesse, she scowled. Driving the price of my enslavement up to $18,000 really has made this a more enjoyable experience. Thanks, Dave. You know dicks always make my day that much brighter.
Nothing happened. They continued to have a much better time than she was having. Scratch continued to make a long-winded point about ticks and tocks. Rose continued to hate everything.
The worst part wasn't being forced to drink tepid tea on a sunny afternoon in a chinzy deli that no self-respecting teenage girl would be caught dead in, no matter what pretensions she chose to adopt that day, with a tutelary demigod who had easily conned her into blowing herself up. The outcome of such trickery being inevitable and ultimately beneficial, of course, did little to cancel out the affront of it.
The worst part wasn't even listening to him talk about clocks for the first half an hour, as threatened.
No, the worst part was that Rose had expected to at least foist some of her unhappiness off onto her own flesh blood and ectoslime. One would think that after offering to sell everything he owned to assist in keeping her from having to be in this position in the first place, her idiotic knight of a brother's presence in the same chinzy deli would be one of commiseration and a promise to at least try to stick a sword in him at some point. Instead, she could see the reflection of crude superheroes riding phalluses into explosions in his sunglasses. Across from him, her other well-meaning-but-ultimately-useless would-be bodyguard snickered, said "Yo," and added another doodle to the tablecloth.
Maybe she was a little psychic. Maybe she could think angry words very hard in their direction. Thanks, Jesse, she scowled. Driving the price of my enslavement up to $18,000 really has made this a more enjoyable experience. Thanks, Dave. You know dicks always make my day that much brighter.
Nothing happened. They continued to have a much better time than she was having. Scratch continued to make a long-winded point about ticks and tocks. Rose continued to hate everything.