shitposting rave 5: discount rejects from every genre

"Bitlet"? Minibots don't deserve any more special treatment than anyone else, and 'don't climb strangers without their permission' is just common courtesy!

 

.... rrrrrrriiiiight you fragging missed all of that huh.
She ain't a mini. Well she might be I dunno what she'll grew up to be. She's a youngling. Sparklet. Tiny-juvenile-internally-forged-new-model? Uh.

 

"Have we introduced you to Valiska's body scanner yet, Norm?" Ford grins. "We used it to measure Steven for pants without embarrassing him, and I'll never forget those results. It might answer some of those burning questions!" He takes a deep breath. "Sorry, I was too upset to answer you before. I know you were trying to defend me, but the things people kept saying--I didn't want to reply to anyone and say something I would regret. Weirdmageddon isn't a scientific term: it's just shorter to say than 'intentionally destructive qliphotic interdimensional interstitium ablation'. I don't think you could personify that, and if you could, I don't think the resultant thoughtform would be stable enough to persist."

 

-she squeaks, whines, sticks her tongue out at Switchboard and immediately runs to Scanner, clinging-
He made Averagius sad and he wouldn't tell me if I was a His Radiance or not!

 

It's alright.

And can they be eaten? Or otherwise fed off, if eaten's a dumb way to put it? Weirdmageddons? Not by us - I definitely wouldn't wanna - but by... creatures like Bill, you know... It doesn't really matter 'cause Bill would be an asshole even if he did require them for sustenance but... can they be eaten?

 

"I think in your case it would be 'Her Radiance'." Valiska grins indulgently. She loves children, regardless of species. Or phylum. "But wouldn't you rather be addressed by your name than a title you'd have to share with all of the other Primes?"

 

[He cuddles her close, briefly giving Switch a dirty look over her helm]
That's a thing people used'a call the primes before big blue took over. He wasn't really into it so people just ended up calling him Prime a bunch. No idea how he or Rodster feel about it today, So uh. And I guess technically yeah you'd be one. Well a "Her Radiance" I think.
Dunno if he made Ave sad on purpose, can't imagine anyone t'be that much of a jerk.

 

I woke up before I could tell you but-- thank you for this. It helps, knowing the ways different spirits are shaped, even if you aren't one of the ones I would have ever met in my world. Accepted Chantry taxonomy of demons and spirits often forgets some of their other qualities; the Avvar differ in how they perceive them, and theirs tend to have more depth of emotion and memory, funny enough.

The consort, he's the one that summoned you?

 

Ford shrugs. "A creature that feeds on chaos energy would find Weirdmageddon delightful, as the energy released would be the equivalent of a free ten-course rotating self-serve buffet, but they would not be able to consume the act of destruction itself. Weirdmageddon itself is the deliberate removal of functional multiversal structures for nefarious purposes. It would be like trying to eat 'stabbing' or 'vivisection'. There are beings that could feed on the pain and blood released by stabbing or by Weirdmageddon, but it's difficult even for qliphotic entities to feed on an act or a concept, only the matter and/or energy that the act or meditation upon the concept releases."

 

-she leans in and whispers to him conspiratorially- Caer says people call gods lotsa silly stuff and 'isn't to be en-corraged'. But I like it.
-pause, some thought-
He said it was because of war that Ave was upset.
-this in the tone of someone who is bored of grownups talking about wars-

-she mulls this over, then eventually says with determination-
Hippolyta Radiance.

 

Huh. That makes sense, I guess.

 

The demon consort has currently negotiated an exclusive contract with me. His bedwarmer remains unamused about just how many regulars the lad maintains contracts with.
You will forgive me for not knowing their names. It is not a common practice to introduce yourself or others in our circles.

 

"Well, you are radiant, little girl," Valiska replies. "But the reason calling 'gods' silly things should not be encouraged is that it encourages 'gods' to think of themselves as different from, better than and more important than less powerful people, which makes it easier for 'gods' to hurt the rest of us without feeling badly about it."

 

Speak for yourself, mortal.

 

-she flops over Scanner's arm and looks at Valiska upside-down-
I am important! I'm the Matrix!

 

Well that'd probably do it. Though how anyone can talk of war to the sweet 8bit's face's beyond me. Wanna deface the place with light-doodles? I'll even let ya write the rude forbidden words and I won't tell your caer or sire about it.
[He grins and holds up a hardlight pen.]

 

No, that's quite understandable. Names have power, correct? Most mages who bind demons-- or others-- use blood and bone for a more intimate bond, but a friend of mine once told me that how we talk about people can have dire consequences. I suppose if anyone would know, it would have been him.

 

Quite so. I do know the bedwarmer's current name as he is somewhat of a relation of mine. And I know the name the demon consort uses for business I suppose. But even so these are not things I would uncover for any price. The lad drafts good contracts after all.

 

"Oh? Then explain to me how you feed upon an act rather than upon the matter or energy built up and/or released by it. If you're going to tell me that my theory is wrong, prove it. Preferably with reproducible results, but at least with a thought experiment." Ford smiles. He's willing to believe that it could be possible, at least in some dimensional sheaf where he doesn't know or understand the rules, but calling him 'mortal' is not going to cow him into changing his mind.

 

-she brightens up instantly, grabbing for the pen and scrawling excited doodles in the air. These include some shaky, awkward infant-handwriting glyphs that, if looked at with intent to translate, turn into the sort of fairly mild swearwords a small child thinks are amazing, with a couple of genuinely rude ones thrown in for good measure-