shitposting rave 3: Dawn of the third rave

-tea for libre too- There you are.

A bit more comfortable now, Angela?

 

-he accepts it- Thank you. -He drinks, very carefully. It´s not doing anything. Yet.- That tastes very good. I will be very upset if it turns out to be bad for mechs.

 

>:C I don't care.

I said as much, didn't I? It's not just unkind but honestly kind of harmful to even say things like "his fate is worse than death" in absolutes like that because nothing is worse than death.
But you don't care because you both think you've got it all figured out.

But you know what I don't want to talk about this with you anymore because you both think that cynicism actually solves anything at all. :x

-he turns his head to give Skydrop a proper kiss. Makeouts are much better than arguing ethics-

 

-She accepts, turning into a form that has thumbs- Why thank you. Only one way ta find out right? -she drinks- Oh dear. Ok Libby? Ya gonna want ta decide real hard that dis stuff wroks out wi´our fuel awright? An´don´t drink it elsewhere.

 

Drink it, hopefully. The world is best without earnest do-gooders who stubbornly deny the will of causality.

Those who attempt to subvert fate may find themselves marring their own, and those who have ceased productivity are merely expendable.

It is a much more preferable fate to growing purposeless and fat on idling and drollery.

 

-attempts to swat the gun-

 

-wraps his arms round him protectively, tipping his wings forward as far as they will go to increase the effect, and kisses him back-

 

Dude, what. Have you actually, uh, ever gotten someone to agree with you on that, or...

 

Libre has been looking a little strange, but some concentration seems to fix it.
"This is lovely, it´s a shame it doesn´t agree with us anywhere outside of here."
He is still sipping the tea.

 

the guns got a point once you boil dowvn all the self-righteous bullshit.

 

[The gun ignores him and continues to grumble]

Worthless, the entire lot of those such beings. It is my holy duty to exeunt such worthless lives.

Actors are supposed to leave the stage when their continued presence is no longer called for.

 

Not... really? I mean, the self-righteous bullshit's kinda inherent to the sentiment, man.

It's called improv. Look it up.

 

I love improv. It is commendable to see individuals of quick wit find continued purpose to speak to the audience from very little material.

Those standing about in a stupor, however, need to see the cane.

 

vwithout the self-righteousness, its saying that those vwho are only a drain on the vworld deservwe to die. evweryone servwes their purpose and no one has the right to demand existence vwhen that purpose is fulfilled.

pretty logical shit.

 

-he would be answering but...-

-Half Life turns around so he can properly face Skydrop and ignore everything in favor of kissing.-

 

At least slightly. Ah, ethics, the cause of so many fights between doctors. Especially those under stress, as combat medics tend to be.

 

-toasts her with a teacup- Hear, hear!

 

*raises her teacup in reply*

 

Yeah but like, the definition of 'purpose', that requires someone to make the rules there, right? So if you gotta go into it and talk about the fulfillment of that versus the right to exist, you, um, start defining that for other people, and setting yourself up as an arbiter of judgement. The self-righteousness is coming in where that arbitration begins, because you can't make those sorts of value judgements without, uh, value.

Nah, it's artsy. Like living statues and all. Statement on the theory of existence by performatively existing, or whatever.

 

"My kind tried to solve this," Jame says, showing up unannounced. "By inventing a strict honor code that was supposed to give the answer, always. All it ended up being is a club to beat others with. Don't be stupid like we were."