To all my reviewers, I give you 2 million Bop-Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie's-Head-For-Free Cards. Because one time just ain't enough™.
Disclaimer: LoTR bukan kepunyaan saya, tetapi kepunyaan J.R.R. Tolkein. (Look that one up…or ask me in a review XD)
Warning: Did I not warn you about the Valar!Sue countless times before? I think this time I'll just warn you that if, and only if, you do NOT review, I will find you, and dunk you in Leggy scent, and set Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie out into the world. Doomed you will be, whatever gender you are. Get it?
This warning is rather spoilt by the fact that I am grinning widely by the support you guys have shown. Yayness. We've passed the 50 barrier, let's go for 100! (Stars in Authoress' eyes.)
And, without further ado, your self-induced torture/pleasure.
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MarySues (and their male counterparts) are fickle creatures. That is to say, they are only interested in power and pleasure. Perfection, to them, is something only they can attain, supremacy is something only they are worthy of. Once they desire something, or, most commonly, someone, they will go to no ends to get it. And, most of the time, they succeeded. But, if it is one thing a MarySue hates, it is another MarySue. They are viewed as competition, and therefore must be eradicated ASAP, most commonly by bitch-slapping or public humiliation by means of stealing the adversary's private email sessions and reading them out loud for everyone to hear and laugh at. You get what I mean.
But, every so often, Sues do band together, especially if there is a 'biotch' with a 'big heavy weapon thingy' threatening their immediate subsistence. But there are still internal battles, for from time to time, a (particularly) stupid Sue will try to attain control of the bevy, and will, invariably, fail. The point that I wish to get across is that there is no such thing as a Leader among the Sues. It was do or die, the latter often the case when you've got people like Koss around.
And, yet, Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie was quite happily ruling away, and no Sue dared to comment. Quite odd, seeing as they (the Sues and the Stus) were still in their right frame of mind, i.e. still going about their business of ensnaring helpless pretty people to whine to/brag their fighting prowess/fulfil their lust/angst to/etc. As opposed to pretty much the rest of Arda, that is, reduced to staring off into space, maybe drooling slightly, unless you had a specific task set in mind by Chloe.
The MarySues and GaryStus clearly outnumbered the Empress of the Sues, but not one dared oppose her. Surely their numbers could defeat a demigod. If only someone were to somehow weaken Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie, somehow plant these seeds of doubt and rebellion in the minds of the Sues, then maybe…
Just maybe…
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Around fifty assorted corpses lay heaped around Koss, including Orcs, Goblins, Men, Sues, and even a Troll. Every single one was quite bewildered by their loss of life, although that particular train of thought, or any train of thought, for that matter, would be quite cut short. They had achieved mortality in many creative ways, including strangulation, spinal cord twisting, and (my personal favourite) garrotting by means of Sue hair. What other use would ankle length, conditioner-fortified hair be good for?
This had calmed her down somewhat, but it did not make the sudden appearance of Chloe any more welcome. The Co-Ruler of Middle-Earth clapped her hands to her mouth and gave an almighty gasp of surprise and disgust (which sounded a lot like the primary sound emitted by Sues; a squeal). Koss eyed her warily, and, as an afterthought, hid her bloody hands behind her back. After another second of deliberation, she wiped them on her dress. It wasn't as if it was that much of a loss.
"Hwhat on Eartheth happetnh hereth?" Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie cried. "My peepooleth! Alleth dead! O', trully these is a greateth trad – trag – tradgerdy!" And, really, it was. Koss would have been much more satiated if Chloe had been the one dead on the ground.
Quick thinking yielded this answer: "Oh, they insulted your hair and your wardrobe, so I had them executed," Koss said, smiling hopefully. "Eth," she added, for good measure. You never knew what a well-placed 'eth' could get you out of.
"Oh. Taht's allrighteth then." Chloe shrugged happily and flipped her hair over her shoulder, and in the process, knocked over one of her stalkers who had – rather unwisely – been standing just behind her. She did not even turn around, and instead tapped her finger against her cherub lips in a pondering manner. Then she snapped her pianist digits as if remembering something. "Lana, be a deary andeth Goethe dowbn 2to theth kitchen. Plez telleth the head cooker that I ownly can eateth these." She handed Koss a sheet of paper – hot pink, and all the 'i's were dotted with little hearts – and then left in a flurry of hair and scent.
Koss felt her jaw slowly drop as she read the contents of the page. It went something like this:
Liste of Eatable Thinges.
Low-Fat Lembas
Fat-Free Foie Gras (1)
Sparkling Watere
Mallorn Salad (2)
Pizza (This one had apparently been crossed out hurriedly)
Crébain Cake
(Illegible)
Signed,
(Insert squiggly line that looks mysterious and t3h kewl)
Her Imperial Majesty Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie, Queen of Arda, Chatelaine of the Citadel, Empress of Minas Chloe (3), Ruler over all from the Sea of Rhûn to the Gulf of Lune, from the Northern Waste till Far Harad, Spawn of Rabid Fangirls of Real Earth Not That She Knows, Shooter of Ice-Beams, Owner of the Fourth Silmaril, Wife to Dark Lord Sauron, greatest servant of the Dark Ainur Morgoth (formerly Melkor), 'The Abhorred', King of Men, Lord Of The Rings, Gorthaur, the Deceiver, the Necromancer, the Nameless Enemy, Ruler over all of Middle Earth, Wielder of the One Ring, Bigshot I-Told-You-So Boss of Arda, owner of all things EVIL, Yanker of Little Girls' Ponytails and Elves' Braids, Wedgie Scourge, The Great Lidless Eye Wreathed in Flame, All Time EVIL, Puppy-Kicker, The Smite-r of All Who Oppose Him, Maker of the Twenty Rings of Power, Hater of the Númenóreans, Master of Melvins, The Re-re-re-incarnated, Wielder of the Wet Willy, Two-millennia Winner of Dark Lord Weekly's All-Time Hated EVIL Megalomaniac, etcetera, etcetera.
Koss strained her eyes to see what the last item on the 'Liste' had been. It was either 'Fissssh' or 'French Fries', the latter of which she had no idea about. She sighed; it was obvious she would have to go down to the kitchens sooner or later. The kitchens…where all the food was…
The kitchen, where the poisons were kept…
The kitchen, where a careless hand could let slip a drop…maybe a whole bottle full…
Koss' EVIL grin widened as she took a detour to her office, untouched by the Sue-ness. She rifled through her papers; the Witch King had given her a piece of paper, on it the instructions of a method Koss had been unwilling to try before, because Mordor did not have skilled cooks. The Orcs that made up the chefs of Barad-dûr thought that gourmet dining was a sprig of whatever weed they could find (parsley was understandably not available) stuffed into whatever carcass they were having. But now…
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"Cookies of Doom™(4)?" The little Hobbit raised his eyebrows at Koss. That is to say, the Head Cook of Minas Tirith – sorry, Minas Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie – raised his eyebrows at Koss. She had initially been surprised he had risen through the ranks so fast, but then realised that the Hobbit had a spirit aided by a frying pan and a cleaver.
"Yes. It is an old family recipe. The Dark Lord Sauron loves them, and no doubt his – " she was loathe to say it – "Bride will too." Her eyes flickered around the room, where various kitchen help stood around motionless. No doubt that they would soon be bustling about busily to make foodstuff for their Queen.
"Bride? You mean Mrs. Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie?" Sam asked, his eyes shining, much like they did when someone mentioned Mr. Frodo in the past. He skimmed the recipe in his hands. It did not seem too difficult. 1 ½ litre Sue Spit™...3 Shiny Sue Things™ (also known as SueVenirs™)...1 litre Sue Blood™...8 decilitre flour...4 decilitre sugar...3 bars of chocolate (taken from the Sue in question)...½ teaspoon salt...Anti-Sue™ Potion…dirty Orc laundry water(optional)…
Warning: Treat the Sue Spit with caution, as it's highly acidic! 1.
Smash the SST (Shiny Sue Things) into dust. The more vehemence you do
this with, the better. Melt the chocolate bars in the Sue Spit. 2.
Mix the Sue Blood and sugar and pour it into a steel cauldron - Sues only like gold and silver. Add flour and
salt as well as the SST dust. Wait until the chocolate mixed with Sue
Spit turns brown (this may take a while) before adding it as well. Stir
in a counter-clockwise motion until all the ingredients have mixed
well. (This won't take long.) 3. Now we will move onto the
Anti-Sue Potion, which you should have mixed together before trying to
make the COD. (That should teach you to read through magical recipes
before trying them!) Anti-Sue Potion: Blood from an Anti-Sue, willingly given (not much is needed) 1.
Mix the blood with the water in your cauldron and
bring it to a boil. While you wait for this to happen, do as follows: 2. Take the white sage, burn it and walk in a counter-clockwise circle around the cauldron while chanting: "I banish you, wicked, wicked Sue
1 litre water
White sage
3 cinnamon sticks (for taste)
I banish everything you've brought with you
Loneliness shall be your only friend
The Power of Logic™ shall be your end!"
Waving the egg-beater above your head and kicking out your left leg every seventh step is optional. 3.
Repeat this over and over until you've finished your third circle.
Smash the cinnamon sticks into dust, add to the boiling water, then
stir in a counter-clockwise circle while repeating the chant once. 4.
Here comes the most important part: After the chant has ended, you must
bring up all your anger, resentment and disgust towards all Sues. Feel
it clearly and strongly, and picture it as a ball of black energy
inside you. Imagine yourself bringing it out and into the potion, then
repeat the chant, stirring once more in a counter-clockwise motion. You
should be finished with the potion by then, so put out the fires
beneath it and pour it into the vials with harmless-looking elves
carved into the glass. (This way, no Sue will suspect them for what
they contain.) Now, back to the cookies: 4. Add the
potion, then stir in a counter-clockwise motion. Again, pour out all
your anger, resentment and disgust (but don't shape it into a ball this
time) while you repeat the chant 13 times. 5. When this is
finished, take some Blessed Salt™ from my cabinet and draw a circle
around you and the cauldron. Call upon the power of Morgoth to shape
the cookies, then lie down on the ground (within the boundaries of the
circle) and go to sleep, dreaming sweet dreams about destroyed and/or
dismembered Sues. (Always remember to bring a pillow!) 6. When you wake up, the cookies should be finished. P.S. (Licking the cauldron would be a bad idea!)
He blinked as he tried to figure out exactly what was that niggling feeling at the back of his head, telling him that something, something, was wrong. But at Koss' fingers impatiently tapping a tattoo on the tabletop, he shook his head. "Can it be done, head cook?" the Keeper of Sauron's Sanity asked.
Sam, the Hobbit, dearest companion of Frodo Baggins (before he turned into Nazgûl 9 ¾, at any rate) nodded. "It can be done. But I will need your help..."
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Exactly two hours and a pint of Ravaratwinkletoecutiepie's blood later ("We're just testing you don't have some kind of, lyk, allergic reaction), Koss emerged from the kitchens with a tray bearing the most alluring and most lethal batch of cookies. The Cookies of Doom™ wafted an aroma that made you feel like dying, not because it smelt ghastly, but because you felt too undeserving for such a delicacy. But MarySues, however, perfection personified (according to them, anyway) would never, ever feel inferior to this batch of biscuits. And that was the infallible part of the plan. Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie would not be able to resist, what with the heart-shaped sprinkles on top.
Koss somehow found the Self-Made Empress of Arda in the newly installed Jacuzzi on the fifth floor. This fact didn't bother Koss so much, due to the fact that Sauron had – on occasion – soaked in pools of Lava when they had been situated in Mordor – before he was forced into the form of the giant fiery Eye. But Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie's Jacuzzi Room, besides the distinct lack of thousand degree molten lava, differed only in the fact that various heart – HAREM – heart members were also present, and what they were doing underwater without any trace of bathing suits was NOT something Koss wanted to speculate about, unless she wanted to lose her breakfast.
"Your greatest Majesty Chloe, I have come bearing treats from the Head Cook," she called, not looking anywhere except the uber-Sue's face. She was just thankful that there was enough steam rising from the pleasantly warm water to sufficiently impair vision, much like a very thick haze, enough steam to mask any unclothed bodies and whatever positions they were currently in.
"Eh…just oneth minute minuteth, my deareth Lana…" Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie called out, and Koss ducked out of the room before anything happened that would seriously jeopardise the condition of her own sanity. Some time later – but definitely more than a minute minuteth – Chloe emerged, this time fully clothed. As much as one can be fully clothed in the lace-and-fishnet ensemble she had on. Let's not forget the leather boots. Those have to count for at least something.
Koss took in Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie's Gothic outfit with a disdainful eye before thrusting the tray under Chloe's nose. She could have sworn that there was a twitch in the ValarSue's left cheek, the only sign of imperfection in her perfectly most perfectest heart-shaped, blemish-less, faultless, flawless, picture perfect, unspoiled etc face. But of course she must have imagined this, for Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie knew not the meaning of imperfection. (Okay, she didn't know the meaning of many other words, but let's just skim over that fact.)
"What areth theseth, Lana?" Chloe asked imperiously, though the effect was rather spoiled by the fact that she sounded like her mouth was full of drool. So her sentence was more like: "Wghat aretgh theeggtet, Llana?" But Koss got the general gist.
"Cookies, my lady," Koss explained with a bright smile. "The Dark Lord Sauron has one every morning and they make him especially powerful. I thought that, since you are so much more powerful than he, you should eat a whole batch!" As an afterthought, she added, "Plus, their totally non-fat."
The glint of greed was obvious in Chloe's morganite (5) eyes. "Nogt fateth?" She swallowed heavily, and at Koss' nod of confirmation, squealed with delight. A clawed hand – of which the fingernails were a ghastly white-with-pink-hearts – swiftly seized a few Cookies of Doom™, said cookies disappearing into the Sue's wide mouth.
Koss patiently waited until Chloe had finished every single one – never once proffering, but Koss doubted she would have accepted such an offer at any rate – but the uber-Sue remained upright, and, most disappointingly, alive. She watched, with growing displeasure, as Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie licked a few stray chocolate chips off her fingers.
"Do you…feel anything, your majesty?" Koss asked. When the ValarSue looked at her curiously, she hurriedly added, "More powerful, I mean. You know, after eating the Cookies of D – of Power." Not a very original name, perhaps, but it hardly mattered when you were talking to someone who had more pairs of shoes than I.Q.
"Noteth noticeablyeth, Lana-kins. But, then againeth, I ameth already so veryeth powerfuleth, don't thee agree?"
"Of course," Koss agreed despondently, cursing the Witch King. He and his stupid Cookies of Doom™…it was no surprise really, and she really shouldn't have had such high hopes…Ah well, there was always Grond Jr –
"But noweth thateth thee mentioneth it, I thinketh I need the little Valar's roometh. Excusteth moi." Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie hurried off, leaving Koss with her eyes wide in surprise. Quickly, the Keeper of Sanity stashed the tray behind a suit of armour – she was sure it made an irritated noise – and followed the 'wife' of her employer.
What she found…was not a pretty sight. One of Chloe's hands held back her hair, while two fingers on the other hand were forced down her throat - thusly producing a retching sound complete with the half-digested remains of the Cookies of Doom™, which, like a waterfall, made its graceful journey into the toilet bowl. Oh, yes, among the marvels brought by Chloe was the miracle that was sanitary waste disposal. Or, to put it more tastefully – or, rather, not so tastefully – plumbing. But this is unimportant, as is the fact that since the Sue had no idea where the contents of the toilet went after flushing. But that is another story for another time. Preferably a story discussed by plumbers.
Anyways, when Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie looked up, impulsively wiping a stray heart-shaped sprinkle at the corner of her mouth, she was not happy to see Koss gaping at her. "It's noteth hwhat it looketh like, I sweareth Lana, luvvie. I swear there was real chocolate in there! Witheth fatI! Omigod, I couldeth haveth dieded with thateht much chocolate!" Chloe was too busy trying to convince herself that she had not in fact enjoyed the cookies with the fat and chocolate, that she did not notice the dark expression on Koss' face, nor hear the sound of Orcish profanity.
"I take my leave, my liege," Koss muttered darkly, hurrying out of the bathroom. Ravara didn't even notice.
Ah, she should have taken this into consideration. There was no possible way that Mrs. Sauron's figure stayed stick thin like that. It wasn't natural. Of course, MarySues themselves were not natural, but even so. Bulimia was a horrible, horrible thing, only because it ruled out poison as a means of killing Chloe. Damn.
Soon enough Koss reached her office. She was glad that Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie knew nothing of it, else it be bedecked in pink drapes and cut-out heart shapes on the walls. That, and all her weapons would be removed. The Keeper of Sauron's Sanity distractedly threw a dagger at the door – where it stuck, hilt quivering – while cursing her luck.
"Damn, damn, damn. Damn Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie!" She glared at Grond Jr. wishing she could smash Chloe's head in. Her expression, however, turned to one of fascinated horror as she saw tiny pink flowers bud along the spikes of her mace. Frantically, she ripped them off and tossed them to the floor, where they turned to ash. Trepidation growing, Koss turned her gaze to the dagger still stuck in the wooden door.
"Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie."
Immediately flowers sprouted, encasing the blade and hilt in a Pink Petal-ed Prison™. Each individual blossom consisted of thousands of tiny petals, no two the same shade of pink, impossible though it may sound. But in a MarySue-ridden world, nothing is impossible, except perhaps being prettier than said Sues. Digression. Koss' glare, however, reduced the pink vegetation to cinders.
Ravara – Chloe – had reduced Middle-Earth to her personal playground, where its inhabitants were at her beck and call. Her only goal in life was to gain pleasure from the 'hawt-ies' in her heart-HAREM-heart, exhaust praise and worship from star-struck inhabitants and otherwise wreak havoc with the Yin and Yang of Arda. And now, with the flowers every time her name was spoken…That was it. That. Was. IT.
Grond Jr. felt very comforting in her hands.
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Koss found Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie in Sauron's chambers, oddly enough. One would think she would be in the heart-HAREM-heart, or inflicting mayhem by being herself. But, no, she was sitting on Sauron's lap. Koss was surprised that the armour of Dark Lord Sauron, greatest servant of the Dark Ainur Morgoth (formerly Melkor), 'The Abhorred', King of Men, Lord Of The Rings, Gorthaur, the Deceiver, the Necromancer, the Nameless Enemy, Ruler over all of Middle Earth, Wielder of the One Ring, Bigshot I-Told-You-So Boss of Arda, owner of all things EVIL, Yanker of Little Girls' Ponytails and Elves' Braids, Wedgie Scourge, The Great Lidless Eye Wreathed in Flame, All Time EVIL, Puppy-Kicker, The Smite-r of All Who Oppose Him, Maker of the Twenty Rings of Power, Hater of the Númenóreans, Master of Melvins, The Re-re-re-incarnated, Wielder of the Wet Willy, Two-millennia Winner of Dark Lord Weekly's All-Time Hated EVIL Megalomaniac, etcetera, etcetera, didn't pierce Chloe's skin. Then again, Sue hide is unnaturally thick, much like themselves. It explained why the Orcs were so fond of using Sue Skin™ as leather – at least, before little miss Valar!Sue came along.
Without even greeting her dazed employer or his alleged spouse (why bother?) Koss hefted her favourite weapon and felt it connect with Chloe's head with a satisfying thunk. The Empress of Sues toppled off her 'husband's lap, into an untidy heap on the ground. The Keeper of Sauron's Sanity brought Grond Jr. down in a decisive arc.
"Koss? What is going on? Why in Morgoth's name do I have a cape on?"
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Legolas Thranduillion, Prince of Mirkwood, Elf-boy, Winner-of-drinking-contests-with-dwarves, Koss' Pet, Emissary of the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood, Killer-of-Mûmakil, Torturer of Sues (ToS), Delight of the Fangirls, Traitor Extraordinaire, shook his head. It felt as if all the clouds in the sky had left his brain via his pointy Elvish ears. Ears that picked up the sound of cracking knuckles, and maybe the sound of growling.
The rest of the heroes stood before him, anger plain on their faces. But…one glance at what they were wearing made Legolas raise a hand to his mouth to stifle his snort. But that made the bangles on his hand tinkle, and when he looked down at himself, his eyes widened in horror and his jaw dropped.
What in Illuvatar's name am I wearing? And where's Koss? I need her help!
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"Shire…Baggins?"
"You're right…I can't remember a thing – Hey! Why are we in pink lace?"
All the Ringwraiths screeched in revulsion at the horrible material that seemed to burn them right to their immortal souls. All, except one, of course. Nazgûl No. 6, Taylor, rubbed the material between his fingers thoughtfully. Frodo caught sight of this, and seeing as he was rather…vertically challenged, shall we say, promptly kicked Taylor in the shins.
"OW!"
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Kreésh-När the Orc closed his eyes, counted as high as he dared, then opened them again. Damn! His faithful – enough – battalion of soldiers were all sitting in a circle, most with drums on their knees. And the worst thing was that every single one – himself included – were wearing Man-clothes. Urgh. Had they no honour? What matter of devilry was this? This pendant with the Man letter 'Y' in a circle? (Koss had made sure that all captains were proficient in the tongues of all the peoples of Middle Earth)
Already the SoS were tearing off their ridiculous 'clothes', howling their distaste.
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"It was all her fault, Milord." Koss gestured to the mangled body with the bloody Grond Jr.
"And who is she?" Sauron asked patiently, as patiently as a EVIL Dark Lord could be after being told he had been controlled by some…female. The cape had hurriedly been burnt to a crisp, lest he continue to be tainted by the influence of the Sue.
"She is Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie." Obviously, Koss had forgotten why she should not speak Her name, because she suddenly found it very hard not to laugh. A pink flower had vegetated. It was not very big, but it was very noticeable, especially against the background.
It had sprouted on the very tip of Sauron's nose. He squinted his eyes trying to find out what it was. "Koss…what is that?" He sounded almost…worried. And who wouldn't be, after being subject to every whim of a deluded, narcissistic – beautiful, loving, perfect… Sauron's gaze slid back out of focus and another, gaudier cape adorned his shoulders.
Someone tapped Koss on the shoulder. She turned, retort dying on the tip of her tongue.
Ravarastwinkletoecutiepie, Half-Maia, Valar!Sue, Empress of Arda, tutted disapprovingly.
"Now, that wasn't very nice."
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(1)To my knowledge Foie Gras is some type of pâté. It just sounded funny. Sue me. XD
(2)Not too appetising, I know, but what other leaves from LoTR can you remember, eh? EH?
(3)Modified from 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' by C.S. Lewis. Means I don't own it either.
(4)Suggestion by a loyal reviewer, Sushi-san. The instructions were hers as well, I just edited here and there. May it be known (because I'm too lazy to go back and change the chapter again) that Koss was the one who did the whole pouring ager and resentment and such. Sam did the cooking bits. )
(5)A Morganite is a type of gem that is pink. I know my rocks, yo!
HAH! YOU THOUGHT SHE DIED, DIDN'T YOU! NEENER, NEENER, NEE-NERR!
Heh. Couldn't resist that. But seriously, a Valar Sue will not die so easily. Koss needs a challenge, and I need chapter fodder. XD Anyway, we'll have fun thinking of ways to kill this presumptuous little Sue, won't we?
And, on another note, I have lost my beta. Ok, fine, she's gone overseas to study, and her internet time is so limited I think it'll be another month before I update this chapter. So I'll need to find a new one, preferably someone who goes online often, or at least checks their email often. I don't think I'll limit myself to one. So, if you find any mistakes this chapter, don't be harsh. I've got exams. XD
REVIEW!
anila.