shitposting rave 2, electric boogaloo

Gonna have to pass. Not into fucking orbs.

 

sorry. i thought you needed directions to the object.

 

never

 

Wording.

 

I ACTUALLY DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE SPECIFIC TYPE OF MARIJUANA.

ALSO. AMETHYST. WE SHOULD BE FRIENDS AND GET HIGH TOGETHER. AND MAYBE FUCK.

 

If you ever smoke marijuana in front of Steven, I will disincorporate you, and then lock your Gem in a cabinet for 420 weeks.

 

Pointy Nose Girl sounds like she'd get along with Boss Man.

 

man p it ait like i smoke it in frot of steven

hes too pure 4 that

cinnamon roll and all that jazz

 

hell yeah

just take me out to diner first yknow make it a proper date

its not a date if theres no food

 

Bushy Haired One has a point, kid. Get food. Preferably meat. Or something sweet. Very sweet.

 

I super-duper approve of Step One.

 

So, you with the red eyes and the green dress and the weird hair. Who are you? and why's it your job to kill and fuck things up? Draw the short straw?

 

You. You're the one person who gets a point. Good on you. I guess you get an explanation for that. Brief though.

Don't have a name. Or I do, but it's about as important as yours. So not. Boss calls me Girl, history books The Demoness, yada yada. It's my job to be dragging myself through time making sure it all plays out as it's supposed to. Lots of death, political sabotage, and fostering of general paranoia and bellicosity in the public are vital to a healthy timeline. Them's the breaks. Why me? Because.

 

Names are weird anyway. Sometimes they mean things. Sometimes they mean nothing. Sometimes people want them to mean things. I was given my mother's name. Because I was just a replacement for her. No need for a new name there, right? And I now bear one of her epithets, Priests'-bane. And then everyone else makes up names for me.

I have a role, though. Nemesis. At my apotheosis I shall be That-Which-Destroys, Regonereth incarnate. Not yet, I hope, that doesn't sound like a whole lot of fun.

 

They never mean anything. Names.

Roles mean things though. Mine? I'm the maid. Got to keep things all neat and tidy for the big man.

 

Kind of strange running into another one though. Sure as hell refreshing that it's not just another me too. Last me I ran into I had to clean off the carpet.

 

HEY. I'M A YOU. :(

 

Do you want a prize?

 

I was going to say I don't have a boss, but I guess I kind of do. Our God cares little for our pain and only about the plan, the long war. We hate him but that changes nothing.

*looks at the other one* You two do look like you're related. But it doesn't look like you've lived the same life at all.

 

That's how it is with Him. Sometimes I still spit in his tea. Little things like that. Mostly stopped because beatings just aren't worth it. No point.

Anyway. We are. In that we're the same person. Sort of. Temporal shenanigans.