[ Vegeta is messing with the blackberry in his room. He knows how these things work. He's the sex toy husband of the Owner of Capsule Corp. He's played with devices more advanced and stupidly difficult to use than this. His face is there, and it's narrow. Narrow eyes, angry mouth, wrinkled nose, furrowed brows, amazingly large forehead split by his
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Oh, and she doesn't show herself.
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And why doesn't this Author show herself?
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What good writer would ever place themselves within the pages of their work? She doesn't interfere directly, she has minions. Most notably, a rabbit.
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...That's... That's ridiculous. You're making no sense.
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You're expecting a teenage girl's imagination to make sense? Well now, it seems that you need a rehearsal.
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...WHAT?
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[Tossing his hair over his should he then starts drumming his (very painfully obviously manicured nails) fingers on his bottom lip. Debating where to start.]
She assigns us droll plots to partake. If you would observe.
[Levitating the Blackberry in place, he slinks around to the nearest window, making sure to avoid the light pouring in at all costs. Putting his sleeve in the light, the material seems to just disappear.]
You see?
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[ So far, his jaw is slack and hanging from his skull. Wow. This is. Vegeta doesn't know what this is. ]
That's impossible. No one has that kind of power.
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No one but a god of their own world.
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This is insane.
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[His tail flicks, really he had come to terms with it. But thinking on it just made it worse to handle.]
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...Fuck.
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Though you're in luck, there haven't been any cruel plots lately - the worst you'll suffer is dying of sheer boredom.
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I'll be damned if I know. She is hoping to write a story, without us she can't. Obviously she has done little research into how one treats your leading stars.
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