shitposting rave 5: discount rejects from every genre

"I believe we are wearing fantastically similar headgear."

 

[Poor ghosty. He's tempted to attempt a pat, but he shouldn't he really shouldn't] Mind, four million years is still considerably too long to any sort of sensible reasoning. [His wings drop down. He's not sorry for missing out on this, he knows he couldn't have changed anything but it still makes him faintly nauseous to think of]

 

"Sorry," says Lissa, after a moment. Either number of years is equally hard for her to imagine. But maybe not for them.

 

I'm only commenting on it now. You know, considering.

[Jack laughs.]

 

[john snorts.]

huh. cool, i guess. is there any cap off for materializing stuff? or could i fill the entire place with raging blue intestinal distress gushers?

 

"You could. But we'd rather you didn't. That combination of intestinal distress plus gushers sounds highly unpleasant," says Ford quickly.

 

WELCOME TO THE CRIPPLING SELF-LOATHING CLUB, I GUESS. REFRESHMENTS ARE *NOT* PROVIDED, WE SIT AND BLAME OURSELVES FOR BEING RUDE ENOUGH TO ASK AND FOR BEING DUMB ENOUGH NOT TO BRING ANY

FUCKING *DO NOT.* I DON'T NEED TO DROWN IN YOUR ARTIFICIAL-FLAVORING GEOMETRIC ASS CANDIES

ALSO, HI, SHITSMEAR

 

Well, yes, it's been more about the leaders' spikes than anything else since the day the sides split, were they ever going to sit down and be rational about it?

It's fine. I was just... startled. A third of history is a long time, but still considerably shorter than three hundred-odd times previously-recorded history. And, well, I'm not exactly in a position to go check myself.

 

Still bad enough given there's kids out there who woke up to war and have never known anything else. And I say "kids" but half of them aren't exactly young by most standards...

 

i don't know, i've got a real craving for some gushers right about now. [his tone is joking! he'd never actually fill the whole rave with gushers. on purpose.]

hi, karkat!

 

Yes. [Shaken up, who was ever shaken up? Switchboard is back to looking neat as a pin, though the Autobrand has conspicuously vanished.]

 

"You sure have managed to make some interesting friends, Lissa." Angeth shakes her head, amused. There are mechanoids here who might be as big as the first ship she jacked. Though definitely not the last.

 

"It's candy? Why is it flavoured like ... intestinal distress?" Ford makes a face.

"I notice you assuming that she was the one who made friends with everyone and not me, Gethenya." Ford snorts. "Gentlebeings, this is Angeth Obradin. She's one of the only people from Lissa's original universe that we'd be glad to see again. We had a thing with her for a while, but she declined to go with us when we had to run. Still sticking it to the Conglomerate?"

 

"It might be my reason for living." Angeth grins. "I know why Lissa gave me a Talassani name, but it still cracks me up when you use it, Ford."

 

From what I caught, no. Useless scrapheaps both of them. [Is he bitter about Megatron? Boy yes he's damn bitter about him and about that pitbound speech in this entire slagged court case and just... His wings climb into the 'angry and meaning it' set without him even noticing]

 

they aren't, they just give you intestinal distress! though what gusher doesn't, haha.

 

"Then why do you eat them?" A catte is confuse.

 

Quite. [Switch looks away. Quiet and agreeable, that's him, yes.]

 

i would never eat the fruit of the batter witch! not after... the incident.

 

"The batter witch?" A catte is still confused. "And okay, you don't eat them, that's smart, but why would anyone else?"