Hello, Sky High fandom.
You hate me. I know. I don't hate you back. I'm just starting to get a little bit uncomfortable over the idea that I'm a flat stereotype always determined by the color of my hair and eyes.
There is one question that constantly badgers me. Why do you hate me? Sometimes, during my more sensible moments it occurs to me that it's because of Warren. I feel really, really vindictive dragging someone else over my own problems. Yet it makes absolute perfect sense.
Warren Peace, school misunderstood loner/rebel/good looking guy with cool get-up, who just so happened to have been nice enough to dance with me during homecoming. The most ultimate in cardinal sin! Kill!
Oh… kay…
Wait. Now that I think about it. Maybe that reaction wasn't completely unjustified. Hmm. Alright, you now all have the permission to characterize me as your resident cold-hearted bitch/punching bag/slut or whichever pleases you. On occasion, however, if you ever find the time, I'd like to at least appear in your stories pretty much ignored - as I was in the actual movie. At least then I wouldn't have to sleep with everyone and your mom … except I never do with Warren. Even though, according to canon, I'm the most plausible choice for romance.
I didn't mean to sound as spiteful as I did. Wait, I do. Damn it.
Much love,
Sky High's noted Cryokinetic
Post script: Just because someone is blonde does not mean she can be classified as a bimbo, or a ditz, or any other of those blonde jokes I hear all the time. Trust me, I do hear them. It doesn't bother me much because those who say them are always frozen stiff afterwards. If you weren't very clear on that: Yes, I'm threatening you. Now please, leave me alone.
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Sky High fandom.
I would like to not introduce myself. Because I don't do introductions. I brush people off, I glare, I give away sarcasm like a fundamentalist religion fanatic giving away pamphlets. Now I don't make the habit of initiating conversation because most people have the conversational ability of a lemming on acid. Or, in some people's cases, they just like to hear themselves to talk. Most times, I just don't like talking. It's a waste of saliva and air. So bite me.
That was not literal. If I could simple paint the words 'Keep away' on my forehead to emphasize my lack of interest in physical contact, I will. But it looks stupid, so I'll just fry the next person who happen to be within a mile radius.
But I'm getting off the point.
This is the point: Layla is with Will. I have no objections about that. I even helped them to get together, not because I'm secretly holding some stupid crush on said girl or, even worse, said boy - give me a moment to scream in disgust… Done. But because I just don't like seeing misunderstandings and rampant stupidity caused by miscommunication. I don't vouch for stupid, after all.
Your original characters who happen to either outdo me in the broody/angsty genre, or are outrageously painfully beautiful, or maybe disgustingly stronger than anything proper genetics can dish out among other super-powered parents can go stuff themselves. I don't like anyone who's better than I am. Sue me. cough Besides, they all vanish in a puff of logic anyway.
So scram. Or I can toast you so that there'll be nothing but ash. I'll even drop the ashes into the canteen soup just to make sure. I'll eat it to prove my absolute spite.
Now. Go away.
Guess who.