[Anon & Dazzlings] Scumbag Anon's Valentine's Proposal

>The bell rings, signifying the end of another long, dull, boring day in the rat race that is Canterlot High School.
>Professor Discord concludes his daily lecture on, yes — you guessed it — chaos theory and dismisses the class.
>With less enthusiasm and energy than a wounded Vietnam vet returning home with PTSD of the rice patties, you rise out of your chair, and give pause so the dumb masses can make their exit.
>All the other kids(and their pumped up kicks) fly out of their chairs and race out the door into the halls with more energy than usual, and it’s not too hard to guess why.
>It’s Friday.
>Not only that but it’s Valentine’s Day.
>So naturally everyone is getting ready to get down with the sickness(OOH, AH, AH, AH) tonight.
>Everyone except for you, of course.
>But contrary to the rumors floating around the halls, it’s not because you’re a nihilistic borderline-misanthropic incel.
>Oh no it’s nothing like that all.
>It’s just that you actually have plans for something else tonight.
>Something far better than a Valentine’s night frolic through the sheets after indulging in some of your mother’s cheap wine with a Stacy you picked up.
>You’re gonna play S.T.A.L.K.E.R and drink some cheap vodka.
>You know, to get invested in the world of the game.
>Y-yeah that’s it.
>... God, you’re such a fucking tool.
>”Anonymous my boy, are you going or not? Because if not, I have some more theory I would love to share with you.”
>You blink, having been forcefully yanked from the dark confines of your dark tormented spirit and back into the science classroom with a man who’s probably an even bigger tool than you are.
>Said tool is tapping his fingers on his mahogany desk expectantly.
>It’s at this point you realize that:
>A: Professor Discord is staring at you with a raised brow, and a slight grin,
>B: You’ve been standing here next to your desk for the past 3 and a half minutes going on an inner-monologue spouting expository dialogue in a very try-hardy way,
>C: You actually do feel bad you didn’t make an effort to get a fucking date for once.
“Yes sir, Mr. Discord, sir; I’ll head out right away.”
>”Ah ah ah~ that’s not right. That’s not my title!”
>The onset of your lonesome virgin depression is staved off by the irritation of having to go through this again.
“You’re right. How could I be so stupid. I’m sorry, Doctor-Professor-Scientist MD Discord... I’ll be right out.”
>This pleases the jackass, who gives you that classic self-assured smile that you loathe with a passion.
>”Splendid.”
>His smile darkens, and you see an odd(re: unnerving) twinkle in his eye.
>”Have a good Valentine’s Day, Anonymous.”
>He reels his head back.
>”MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
-
>The halls are as cold and empty as your bed is going to be tonight.
>Step, step, step.
>Closer and closer to your locker.
>Closer and closer to the lonely room awaiting you back home.
>Papers and Valentine’s Day cards scatter the floors of the halls, their decorative hearts mocking you as you stomp over them.
>Not only those though.
>Can’t forget the paper-mâché hearts hanging from the ceilings and on the walls that look like they were made by a kid with downs, courtesy of one of the Raincooms: Pinkie Bi..
>It only serves to make your melancholic despair take root more firmly.
>Finally you reach your locker, which is a slightly duller shade of blue than the rest of the row. It also is significantly more banged up, given how many times you’ve been stuffed in it or thrown at it.
>’Canterlot High School - Friendliest School in the US of A!’
>What a joke.
>Although it probably doesn’t help that you constantly act like a dick to everyone around you for no real reason.
>And that you wear a dumb looking black coat which makes you stick out like a sore thumb in a school designed to have brighter colors than a room belonging to a kid with downs.
>Wait already made that comparison earlier.
>Ah well.
>Shit, you’re such a dick that even the Raintumors gave up on trying to get you friends.
>Suits you just fine. You don’t need anyone! You know so, because you tell yourself that every night when you cuddle up and kiss your pillow at night.
>You punch in the combination to the lock and it snaps open, revealing the (un)tidy mess within.
>You carelessly thrust your binder into the mountain of papers and empty bags of doritos and quickly slam it shut before the contents of the locker violently erupt out onto the floor like entrails from a horse being prepared by Chinese butchers.
>After snapping the lock shut, you shift around a bit, groan, sigh, scratch your ass, and then set off on your magical quest to go sit alone in your room.
>Life has other plans though, as it usually does.
>As you turn and take a step, you bump right into someone else.
>Someone who somehow managed to snake their way up right behind you without making a single sound.
>They make a sound now though.
>”Eep!”
>You stumble around a second, while the stranger regains her balance in less than a second.
>Good ol’ irritation sets in and you scowl, turning to face her so you can give her a piece of your mind, but the scowl falls away as you stare in confusion at the sight before you.
>There standing in front of you is a girl.
>Not just any girl though.
>She’s one of the girls who tried invading the school a few months ago. Adwariata Duslazing, one of the singers of the Twazzlers.
>Hmmmm.
>Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.
>She stands there looking more lost and nervous than you do when talking to the school counselor.
>Silently she stands there, face flushed, and in her outstretched hand is:
>An envelope.
>With a heart on it.
>...
>Now you are many things.
>Lonely... pathetic... a virgin... an asshole… a ‘writer’ that overuses ellipses and is trying way too hard...
>But stupid is not one of them.
>This has to be a joke of some kind. The envelope must have a stink bomb in it or something. There’s no way YOU of all people could be getting a Valentine’s card.
>”Um… I…”
>Her mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, small fragments of words coming and going as she does so.
>Ordinarily, you’d probably be fine with just standing there and watching the display, or turning around and walking off, but something whirs in the back of your mind.
>Maybe it’s not a trick?
>There’s really no harm in checking to make sure.
>If it’s a stink bomb, you can just go home and take a shower. Nobody is even here but you and her.
>Slowly and calmly, you reach out and take the envelope from her hand, her eyes following your every movement.
>You take a second to examine it.
>With bated breath you feel around for any hint at its contents before you realize that no, this is just an ordinary envelope. Aside from the heart of course.
>You wonder to yourself why you thought it was a stink bomb in the first place, because that’s dumb. How could a stink bomb fit in a fucking envelope?
>Whatever.
>Shrugging, you hook your finger under the seal.
>She wraps her arms around herself as she watches you open it with care and pull what’s inside out.
>A note.
>Folded, to be exact.
>You unfold it and take a look at it.
>On the torn piece of notebook paper, there are hearts of varying colors and sizes, all drawn in crayon.
>About two-thirds of the note is comprised of these hearts, but at the top of the paper(outside the lines) is a message.
>Written in pink crayon with worse handwriting than you after showing up to school in a drunken haze.
>The note reads:
>”hello, im sonata dusk c: you are AnonEMous(i know this), and ive been wanting too ask you for a long time if you wanted to go out w me, but ive been too scared :c but today is valentines day, and dagi said humans are supposed to be more sus- suspectable- susseptable” — from this point on some of the note is scribbled out, and the next word is written using an ordinary pen with impeccable penmanship, before it switches back to crayon — “*Susceptible* to loving each other. can you love me? be my valentine please. <3”
>You uh
>You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you opened the note, but it definitely wasn’t this.
>You look up from the note to take another gander at the girl, Sonata Dusk(apparently you were wrong about the name, go figure), and see that she has a nervous smile on her face. She also has an even brighter shade of pink on her cheeks than before.
>Now, here is where you really are totally lost.
>You’ve never asked out a girl before, much less been asked out yourself.
>And you have no idea how to even go about being asked out by a letter.
>Glancing down at it again, you note the care that went into the construction of such a thing.
>Yes, it looks like a fucking five year old made this, but still. You feel… touched. The ice around your blackened heart is melting a little.
>Cocking your head at her, you feel a slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
>She’s actually really pretty.
>Also looking even more scared than before now, probably because you’ve been standing here for what must be ten minutes. Like a goddamn weirdo.
>Better make up your damn mind Anonymous. Accept her proposal, or spend another Valentine’s Day alone like a loser?
>...
>What are you fucking dumb? The answer is clear.
“Alright I guess.”
>You must have made her happy, because her eyes widen to the point that they may as well pop out of her skull and tears burst from them like the hoover dam being blasted by ISIS.
>”FOR REALZIES? EEEEEEE!”
>Holy fuck the vocal range on this girl
>Your eardrums are already about to burst.
>With lightning speed, she throws herself into you, slamming you into the lockers and squeezing the life out of you, the note slipping from your hands.
>”Thank you thank you thank you! EEEEEEEEEEE!”
>Alert! Alert! Perimeter breach!
>Oxygen supply fatally low!
>Under attack by female lifeform!
“I- no problem I think? Just… just let me breathe please.”
>Giggling, she skips backwards, still blushing furiously.
>You feel like you’ve been hit by a truck, but you guess it’s alright. Holy fuck this girl’s a livewire.
>With a toothy grin(and by toothy you really do mean toothy. Chick’s got fucking shark teeth), she clasps her hands together.
>”Pick me up at 6! Here’s my address!”
>She thrusts another slip of paper into your hands, and then skips down the hall, giggling wildly while you stare with a mixture of confusion, fear, shock, and a slight fluttering in your heart.
>You look down at the slip of paper and see an address written in the same impeccable penmanship you had a peak at in the note before.
>Hm. Actually not far away from your place at all. Within walking distance even.
>And you have some money saved up from scamming crypto- earning crypto through totally legitimate means.
>You fold it up and pocket it, smooth out your black coat, and smile.
>Guess you’re not going to be spending tonight alone after all.
>You take off in high spirits, feeling a little less lonely in the empty halls.
>Wonder what the hell you’re going to wear.
>All you have is gray t-shirts and torn up jeans.
>Guess you could—
>Two pairs of arms shove you up against the lockers, grinding your face into them and twisting your arm behind your back.
>One person handles your arm, and the other holds you in place.
“Auuhh! Uncle! Uncle!”
>”Shut up, dumbass.”
>The gravelly low, but distinctly feminine voice is right in your ear.
>Waves of fire ripple throughout your arm.
>”Now listen here, idiot.”
>Your arm makes a cracking sound as it’s pulled even higher up your back and is damn-near wrenched from its socket, and you dare not move a muscle out of fear of what would happen.
>”I’m going to let you go, and turn you around. Don’t. Run.”
>Mercifully, your arm is released as the other assailant steps away, allowing the vocal one to flip you around and slam her hands around you, effectively pinning you against the wall.
>Getting some serious déjà vu here.
>Pushing through the throbbing pain in your arm, you get a look at your attackers and your eyes widen.
>It’s them!
>The other two Jazzlers!
>Aria Blaze and uh…
>Fuck what was her name.
>Oh, yeah that’s right.
>The Poofenator!
>The former is the one currently giving you a war flashback of the time you called Flash Sentry a faggot, and the latter is watching from the side with a smirk.
>”Hey! Eyes over here!” Aria pounds her fist into the locker, dangerously close to your fragile cranium.
>You obey her command obviously, meeting her heinous vile stare with (in)dignity.
>”Here’s what’s going to go down tonight. You’re going to take my sister out. You’re going to take her to Taco Bell. You’re going to buy her whatever the fuck she wants.”
>She gives you a hard stare, before slowly moving her left arm down into her pocket and pulling out a wad of cash, all the while wordlessly daring you to move.
>Then she slides the money into your pocket with a huff, and quickly slams her arm back in place.
>”Then, you’re going to GO AT WHATEVER PACE she wants. If she wants a peck on the cheek, you better peck that cheek like your life depends on it, because it does. If she wants a kiss, then you better make sure you kiss her like you kiss your pillow at night. If she wants tongue, you better pretend her mouth is an ice cream cone. If she wants you to eat her out—”
>”Aria. Enough.”
>She looks over her shoulder at The Poofenator, and exchanges a series of eye movements with her.
>Grumbling, she throws you another murderous look before lowering her arms and stepping away from you.
>You release the breath you didn’t know you were holding.
>Normally, being pinned against a wall by a woman would be something to be desired by a man/boy/manchild like yourself.
>For some reason though it’s not doing anything for you here.
>”Excellent. Now then, Anonymous, I expect you to comply with my sister’s demands. Be aware that if you do not, then a series of unfortunate events will occur.”
>Hips swaying, this puffy-Raditz-hair succubus closes the distance between the two of you in three swift steps.
>Her calm demeanor breaks, and in her eyes is a look far darker than the one Aria gave you before. Whereas Aria’s was just intense and filled with anger, The Poofenator’s is filled with pure hate and malice. A shiver runs up your spine. Something primitive and instinctual claws at the back of your mind, urging you to run the fuck away.
>You are looking into the eyes of a predator.
>A predator so ancient and knowledgeable in the ways of predator-ing and the Sith, that she could probably kill you in millions of ways right here, right now.
>To make matters even worse, she smiles at you, as if reading your thoughts.
>”Move, and you’ll never walk again.”
>She grabs a fist full of your coat and lifts you off the fucking floor.
>”Listen to me, Anon E. Mous the third, son of Incog Nito — if you DARE break my little sister’s heart, I will destroy your entire social standing. Or what little of one you have, anyway. And not only that, but Aria here,” she gestures at the demonic bruiser, who watches the display with a shark-toothed grin, “will rend the flesh from your bones and cast you out into the sea, where Lord Cru’ath’orith’an, Elder God of the fifth dimension, will spend the rest of eternity serenading you with songs of agony and rape all the while ravaging what remains of your fragmented spirit as you cry out for the mercy that never comes!”
>She takes a breath, and you are thankful that you took a piss before all of this because you surely would have soiled yourself by now.
>A moment of quiet fills the air.
>Or as quiet as it can get with your heart pounding in your ears like a...
>Like a...
>Too scared to make a simile.
>Saying nothing, she lets go of your coat, letting you fall back to the floor. In spite of your horror, you manage to land on your feet.
>”Hm.” She eyes you up and down, and you cower under her scrutinizing wrathful gaze. “I don’t know what she sees in you.”
>”Me neither. Looks like another dumb idiot human to me.”
>The Poofenator gives Aria a nod. “Indeed. It is quite a mystery.”
>She returns her look to you, her eyes noticeably less petrifying. “However I will admit, while her judgement in most matters is… well, it goes unsaid; when it comes to ‘people’, she always has had a knack for finding decent humans. I didn’t think it’d take her 600 years here to finally fall in love, but I suppose becoming mortal offers quite a different perspective on life, even to one such as her.”
>What in the name of fuck is this bitch talking about?
>Slowly, she backs away, accentuating her hips yet again with each movement.
>Seriously the fuck is it with this girl. Or creature. Whatever she is.
>She’s really laying it on thick.
>Extra EXTRA thick.
>Christ, what kind of fucked up bullshit have you unleashed upon yourself by agreeing to go out with that girl?
>The Poofenator sighs.
>”I reserve final judgement.”
>Aria scoffs. “Well I don’t. I already hate him, and we just met.”
>The Poofenator rolls her eyes at her sister.
>”Well you hate everyone, so your opinion on this is less valuable.”
>”Tch.”
“Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on!?”
>The purple monster next to her grumbles something under her breath along the lines of “stupid human fool..” and “you should have never helped her write that damn note…”
>Poofenator though, she just gives you a small smile.
>”I think it’s quite clear. We just care *very* much for our youngest sister, especially with how down she’s been as of late, and would very much be displeased if you were to shatter her newfound spirit. That is all.”
>She looks up at a clock hanging on the wall behind her.
>”My my, you better get going Anonymous, your date is in an hour!”
>Adding insult to injury, she straightens out your coat for you and pats you on the shoulder like an OG patting his number one prison bitch after doing a good job.
>”You would do best not to disappoint me.”
>”Or me.”
>”Or our sister.”
>”Yeah especially if it's in the bed.”
>Shaking her head, The Poofenator walks away, motioning towards Aria to follow her.
>After giving one final look of condescension, she does so, following the lead demon down the hall leaving you alone at last, free to reflect on what madness just occurred.
“WHAT JUST HAPPENED.”
-
And then he fucked all three of them after having a successful date. The end.