shitposting rave 4: (almost) anything goes

[He grins, there's something dangerous in the way his optics glint.]
I can always make time for an encore, brother.

 

-Primus puts his hands behind his back and looks innocent, a lamb next to Uni's lion-
Oh? What would you be eating? ( *’ω’* )

 

Who knows. If you don't choose for me maybe I will have to eat whoever walks in first.

 

(๑°o°๑) Oh no! We can't have that. Truly, you should eat me before you do that!
-that cannot possibly have as innocent a meaning as Primus' adorable little face says it does-

 

[Unicron stalks closer, all dangerous severe angles and burning optics]
You would sacrafice the entire universe for a little attention, wouldn't you?
[His voice is a purr of rumbling giant engines and earth quakes.]

 

-Primus looks so small. is the size differential usually this big? So small and smooth and gentle compared to Unicron, a tiny vulnerable thing-
Oh! You're cruel, to say things like that...

 

[Huh Unicron is standing awfully close now, crowding Primus and looming over him.]
You have not seen me be truly cruel yet.

 

-Primus now barely comes up to Unicron's waist, and must be hardly half of his width-
I know what you are capable of, brother...

 

[In the distance:] Get a room, atta!

 

dunn0, dud3. 1 d0n'7 m1nd w47ch1ng 7h15 pl4y 0u7.

 

Is that so?
[He sounds amused, as a clawed hand comes up to carress Primus' chin and force him to tilt his face upwards]

[His wings flick, amused and utterly unbothered by both annoyed and appreciative audience members]

 

-Primus' fans click on immediately, and he manages to look as though the chintilting was forced at the same time he leans into it-
Do your worst.

-somehow despite all this he manages to spare a hand to flip Mala off-

 

[A veil of darkness descends around them.... though those who do wish to watch are probably still able to.]

 

*Loud sweating.*

 

"Red matches your eyes. I am fond of Severin in green and Valiska in purple, as well."

Ford smiles, almost sweetly, but there's still pitch in it. "Your culture is dysfunctional, more so than most, but all of them are, and there are worse ones. Take the Homeworld Gems. They don't need to breathe, drink, or eat, but they destroy entire civilisations just so they can build their palaces on worlds that have thriving biospheres instead of using the planets that are already bare of organic life. I hate the very idea of slavery, but...it's marginally better than genocide. My people have been the subject of both. A great many more of us survived slavery than genocide."

He shrugs. "Your culture recognises four distinct varieties of love, and calls two of them hate and two of them pity. That's confusing as hell to the rest of the universe. I have feelings for you, and I call them hate, but it isn't you I hate: it's the aspects of who you've become that get in your way and keep you from being the best you can be. You, I love. Not in the same way that I love Valiska, or Severin. But I usually use the word 'hate' for things I want to destroy. And I don't want to destroy you. I want to destroy the prison you're in. Part of it was his doing, but you have learned to be helpless against it, and that's what I hate, Samira." He speaks her name almost airlessly, and wills that no other will hear it; he knows it because others have made free with it in his presence, but he knows she would not have wanted them to, and he will not be like that.

Ford glances down at his feet. "People keep assuming I want to destroy death. Perhaps I only want to set her free, to take the ones who want to go with her because they truly feel they're ready--to come to those who truly need rest, like the Queen of Shabbat. I don't understand that kind of weariness--even when I was being tortured, it only made me want to fight harder--but I am told that it exists. Death isn't personified in my dimension. It doesn't have to be in yours."

 

"I know, right?" Dipper groans. "Dad. You have tried dating demons before. How'd that work out, again?"

 

"You didn't see that one coming?" Mabel shakes her head. "Transhumanist worldwalking polyamorous demisapiosexual sorcerer-scientist meets the personification of death from the culture that just declared war on his own, and you don't see spades all over the place? There are none so blind as those who just don't pay attention."

She shoves a fistful of popcorn into her mouth, sits down next to Mituna, and offers him some. "Freshly made popcorn with butter? It is the traditional snack for the spectators."

 

Are you calling my boss a demon?

 

"Is my father dating him, too?"

Please say no. Please say no.

 

Wait phuck howd you get a job with her?