Fandom: Mythbusters: Two guys tackle some crazy urban myths, trying to prove or disprove them. Things tend to be destroyed. Or blow up. EXPLOSIONS ABOUND! Also, I do not own this.
Taunt: My fandom has secrets on FandomSecrets. Therefore, it is a fandom.
Note: No RPS here. I'm still clinging to my last delusion of credibility.
Okay, guys, listen up. We have to talk. Enough is enough, and I am done taking all this abuse quietly. Crash-test dummies have feelings too, ya know. And I feel that this is absolutely ridiculous!
Do you know what you guys put me through? DO YOU? I'll enlighten you on a few things.
You guys have set me on fire, dropped me from VERY high places, dropped a barrel of bricks on me, knocked me out of a chair, shot me in the leg (although you didn't use my real leg—I'm not completely ungrateful for small favors), dropped me in a makeshift airplane, tossed me into water from a crane with a freakin' hammer in front of me, tossed me from a catapult…
Then you rebuilt me, all good as new. I felt pretty good about that. I really did. Was a little more muscular than I was before—which is all right by me. I'm not at all opposed to getting in shape.
And then you christen my awesome new body by putting me in a car…raising that car up to the veeeeery top of a crane…and dropping it. Does anyone else see the problem here? And I don't even know what else. I've lost track of everything. Might be the head injuries.
I've had broken bones, burned flesh, various mutilations. My own mother wouldn't recognize me, my face is such a mess…and now you're talking about exploding PANTS?
Enough is enough!
Put me down!
No, Tory, no one ordered any exploding pants!
…why does no one listen to me?
PS. opens mouth stares at Buster-centric fic for a moment closes mouth and slinks away in shame