|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Dec 27, 2016 10:47 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Dec 28, 2016 8:22 pm
 |
|
|
|
 Punkie had just finished her nightly 2 hour face paint application ritual. The paint felt wet and oily on her carapace, and she smiled, feeling the paint bunch up at her cheeks. She pulled on her socks and shoes, and glanced around, looking for Carver. "Carver! Where did ya sit yer ******** shell?" Punkie called, "Didn't ya read the grubbin letter? We gotta ******** go!" Punkie found her small lusus perched on a stack of punkins that were drying out, waiting to be used as vessels for the Messiah to reach into this world with. Punkie grew silent as she observed her lusus. The punkin shelled crustacean was holding a pose, a meditative pose. A few moments later he started clicking his claws, in fast succession. Punkie giggled, and held out her hands for her lusus to climb on. Punkie said as she placed her lusus on the pile of punkins that her little red wagon held. She inhaled a big breath of air, grabbed the letter, and opened the door to her hive. It was time to make a difference in the world. It was time to spread the Messiah's holy word, and meet one of the Messiah's holy purplebloods.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 30, 2016 9:34 pm
|
|
|
 |
The Gathering was a glittering gem, settled among the plains outside of New Hemisect City. Sparkling lights – torches of all kinds and colors, spotlights, fireworks and the like – sought to draw trolls like moths to flame. Sweet and savory smells drifted outward. But, naturally, the source of the alluring substances was no safe place for practically any troll. The closer one got to the pointed steeples of the big tops in the valley, the louder the thumping, hooting and hollering became. A glamorous pit for dangerous, violent and rowdy trolls – primarily of high blood – and a meat grinder for any unaffiliated.
When the Gathering was on, New Hemisect was nigh on lockdown. Lusii with enough sense to keep their wigglers at bay knew the dangers of the cult and this time of the sweep. Still, some curious folk from town found their way in – and that was the way the gossip spread. As popular as the cult had become after the Vast Glub, its practices were still superstition to some. The unusual familial bond between members was tight, walled off to outsiders – and ruthless to betrayers of the cult. Anyone who wronged the cult was justly dealt with. That was, at the very least, a universal understanding.
But, for juggalos, tonight was a holy night of mirth. The raucous cacophony coming from the plains could be heard for miles around. Near the grounds were scores of structures, tents and the like – something between a carnival and concert grounds. A glorious amphitheatre was erected under a bony structure resembling a bigtop tent, covered in lights and pyrotechnics. Hundreds of trolls milled about – the smell of greasepaint and sweat intermingled in the air.
In front of it all, Tamiya stood quietly, patiently in wait.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Feb 17, 2017 10:18 pm
|
|
|
|
Punkie could barely walk normally. There was a spring in her step, her smile was so big it could have floated off her face, and a tune of the holy ones sang in her head. As she got closer the bang of the drums seemed to resonate with her very heart beat. The lights assaulted her eyes with promises of visions, fun, and the most amazing night she would ever have so far. That was the joy of being a juggalo, each day had such promise to be the very best day, there was never ending mirth love and celebration.
Punkie saw the purpleblood who sent her the letter. How could she not recognize that face paint, it was a highblood juggalo. Punkie almost felt a tear coming, was such her joy and honor, but she had to keep it in. There was no way she was going to smudge any of the 4 hours of work that was her face paint. Punkie glanced down at herself, checking that everything was in place and well. Carver, whom she was carrying in a gourd basket, clicked his claws encouragingly.
Punkie contained herself enough to control her feet enough to walk up to the purpleblood. The small troll yelled as greeting.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Feb 18, 2017 10:52 pm
|
|
|
|
“Aha! Whoop whoop, Miss Punkie.” Tamiya bowed deeply, a smile growing on her own face. The bouncy orangeblood was a delight to see. She was a lowblood displaying her religion with pride. Not only that, but the display was beautiful – well applied, unmistakeable. Her commitment was no joke and absolutely doubtless. The purpleblood produced two fluorescent orange bottles from her garb and cracked open the seal on her twist-off cap.
“To you! And to tonight, this most wigglingly pupa-changing occasion!”
She took a long swig, waving the bottle in an arc before releasing a glorious celebratory belch. “Where would you like to begin? Tour? Questions? Both? Or do you thirst for raucous festivities already?” Her eyebrows wiggled. The older teen wrapped her arm around Punkie’s shoulder. A few juggalo passerbys had been staring, occasionally giving whoop whoops as they wandered by. A primarily highblood crowd, any warm symbols drew at least a bit of attention – just enough to be a curiosity in this rowdy, capricious crowd. But any tension in the air dispersed as Tamiya’s long arm claimed the orangeblood as a familiar friend, her golden fingertips giving Punkie a fond squeeze.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Feb 19, 2017 8:10 pm
|
|
|
|
Punkie's eyes grew big as the highblood juggalo wrapped an arm around her. She had been with other juggalos before, she knew that all was family and mirth, but it still tickled her every time she met another member of her extensive family. This was one of the beauties of her faith, why couldn't other trolls see this? Truly, it was their loss. She would try harder tho, try and help other trolls find a true place of belonging like she had found.
Rightfully named, the most wigglingly pupa-changing occasion did indeed make the orangeblood wiggle, tho she tried to contain it when in such a close vicinity of a fellow juggalette. Where should they go first? Punkie's eyes were filled with the lights and beauty that was the occasion, and she could not help but look every which way. "A Tour! Oh but the tentrumbling festivities! The ******** choices!" Punkie exclaimed before she remembered herself. Here was a high member of the Mirthful Messiahs, she had just so many questions! "How does a juggalo know if the audacious path they have chosen is really the holiest of finjester mothergrubbing paths?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 27, 2017 9:08 pm
|
|
|
|
Tamiya smiled down at the orangeblood. She began to walk, a lazy stride (that, for the shorter troll was a decent clip) through the throngs of drawling juggalos whooping at eachother in the night.
“Our main mantra: following the ideals of the Messiahs is a surefire way to paradise, but only by following your pump biscuit will you understand your path in life. If you have landed here, genuine and loving, then this is your path. I believe that. Our brothers and sisters – being among them is power. Do you feel it?” True, the hordes of capricious jesters were making quite the show – at any moment a brawl could break out, unrefined chaos and pure energy loosely held within the confines of the carnival. There was an energy in the air that couldn’t be defined, some sort of tangible weight that was thicker than the scent of grease paint and faygo. “The Gathering reminds us.”
Tamiya booped Punkie on the nose and grinned. “You may not be poised to become a subjugglator, but I sense incredible power from you already, sister. Your lusus must be very proud.”
In no time at all, the two had wandered into the aromatic central “market” of the festival. Foods of all kinds, fried every which way and dipped in condiments the thinkpan could hardly wrap around were displayed with pride. They weaved through the stands to the open stadium, a vast field covered in juggalos either on the bare ground or laying and sitting on blankets they had brought to the festivities. A thick cloud of dust had been kicked up from juggalos dancing in a thrashing style to the musical artists who had taken their bows – the short interim of a set change yielded a brief reduction in volume. Tamiya looked down at her companion fondly.
“Where would you like to go? Do? What would you like to learn now?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 05, 2017 6:05 pm
|
|
|
|
Punkie listened with rapt attention as they walked, soaking in the words, the feelings, and the mirth of the gathering. There was so much potential here, to change the world. She felt herself marinate in the feeling of free choice, loud whooping, and freestyle raps that weaved around her small orangeblood head. With the purpleblood's "boop" upon her nose, and Carver's proud clicks in the background, Punkie felt like she could do anything.
It was all a little overwhelming. The smell of foods assaulted her senses, and she felt the rumble in her grubsack. The child gave her senior juggalette a guilty look. Maybe just a small snack first, then they could get to the actually important part. "Uh, ill just ******** grab a ******** snack. One moment my mirthful sensei, Ill be back asap to witness the holiest of shiznasty mothergrubbing clown knowledge." The orangeblood made a mad dash to the nearest stand, and she threw a few beetles at the chef. She was handed back two hatchets with several globs of some red pastry stuck to it, she presumed to represent the just barely held back chaos and mirth a juggalo group could havoc. The girl bit into the red chunks that adorned the edge of the hatchet, careful to avoid cutting her mouth open on its sharp edge. "Your aggrandizement patience revere you my mirthful one. I ******** thank you for your most holy patience." Punkie said through a full mouth, leaning over to curtsy at the highblood. "Would you care to partake?" The girl asked, holding out the second hatchet.
The orangeblood shifted from foot to foot, looking around as she hurriedly consumed her snack. Her eyes lit up as she sighted a sign. The great juggalo acrobalance tightrope-walk juggle-athon, complete with banquine sideshows and a cyr wheel intermission. The greatest show of juggalo skills, dedication, and fineness any juggalo could possibly contain. With her mouth only half full of the gooey treat, the girl pointed at the sign, her eyes big with awe. Only bearably understandable, Punkie exclaimed; "Ive heard of the master act, but i never ******** thought i would get to witness the holy s**t!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 05, 2017 7:00 pm
|
|
|
|
“Ah,” Tamiya smiled and took the… Unique serving platform from her small sister. The surplus of hatchet iconography at the gathering was surprising, even for Tamiya. The resources that clowns could create together was boundless and magical. “I would. You are a dear one, squashsprite.”
Gingerly, she picked the food off of the “utensil” and watched the festivities with eyes aglow. “Ah, yes… It is quite the peepshitter, is it not? This particular bonanza is ******** incredible in its long-storied tradition. Between slam poetry, our many prophetic songs of our gracious goddamn mirthful lords, feats and displays of wrestling mirth and other rituals, it is always important to respect the ******** basics. Acrobatics make up the foundation of any sharpnubbed laughsassin… Trained lusii dances show off our bonds – everything we preach and practice comes back around to enriching our chuckleous lifestyles in some way. I practice the finer arts, mental focus and faith-spreading for acuity of my slushnutting thinkpan as a leader of the subjugglator faction. I must lead our kind back to our gogdamnforsaken place among the elite. I believe we are on our way.” She seemed proud, pushing out her chest and finishing off her snack. “Alternia will be re-balanced one way or another. Like that ursine balancing ball-beast.” She laughed, and turned then to Punkie.
“How will you similarly apply your training as a juggalo, sister Punkie? Are you seeking a specific rank and title? What do you see yourself doing when you are older?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 06, 2017 8:14 pm
|
|
|
|
Punkie hung onto every word the senior juggalo uttered. She wanted to help juggalo kind everywhere. "Thats, thats so goddam beautiful." Punkie whispered. She could see the purpleblood now, at a place of supreme power, right next to the empress. Maybe even a little above the empress... well the orangeblood shouldn't get ahead of herself even in her own fantasies, but it was a vision to set on a pedestal, one to seek and work towards. Then the question was turned back to the young juggalo.
Punkie grinned, she had been thinking about it, and she was pretty sure she had a plan, or at least a faint visual idea. "Being one of the brothers and sisters of the ******** Messiahs has given me an actual feeling of ******** purpose. I see so many glubdamned trolls out there wandering around with their thinkpans up their bone nooks, when if they want some bugwinged joy in life, all they need to do is turn to the clown!" Punkie's voice had raised to a yell as she spoke, and she abruptly shut her mouth. She was getting into that sermon mood again. "I want to show those lost ******** that there is ******** joy, love, and acceptance in this world, and i want to let them feel it." Punkie had the fire of determination in her eyes. She saw the lowbloods out there toiling away their lives, sad and alone, when what they needed was the holy honk of the Messiahs.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 11, 2017 6:21 pm
|
|
|
|
Punkie glanced back at her lusus, the small white hermit crab that lived in one of her carved punkins. She had carved him a new one just for this carnival. The lusus was standing a bit back, giving the trolls a bit of space. Punkie thought she saw a single tear fall from Carver's eyestalk, but then the purpleblood pulled her back to the present. Punkie fidgeted a bit, inspecting her white nail polish. She actually... needed help with her project. Being a lowblood, combined with her hobby of donating time, beetles, and anything else she had to help out those more unfortunate than her, she had very little funds. The orangeblood glanced up at the much taller purpleblood again, and gained a bit of courage from the look of pride on Tamiya's face.
So Punkie put on a grin, and reached out to her wagon, pulling out a long, carefully sealed tube that contained her life's work all in an easy to read diagram, with steps. "Actually... My holy ******** to-be subjuggulator, i need help..." The orangeblood held up her project proposal, offering the other troll a look. "I have a ******** project i wish to pursue... In the name of our holy ******** mirthful Messiahs i wish to make a place, a dingshit of a place, in which to help the contagioned, ignorant, wiggler-slimes we share this hunk of worm-ridden rock of a planet with." Punkie waited. She had words she wanted to spew, explanations, details, every little meticulous thoughts and incites in order to hopefully help this troll to help her, but she waited. She was not going to spew all over this mystical macabre troll just yet. She was a "civilized" juggalo for ******** sake.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 11, 2017 9:52 pm
|
|
|
|
Tamiya lit up – literally and figuratively, as she had pulled a small pipe out of the folds of her garments and took a long drag in thought. “Mm! A Mirth Pavillion, you say?”
She recalled the unfortunate circumstance with which the previous Civisect Mirth Pavillion had been neglected. Comedi, the juggalo ambassador before her, had unjustly taken funds – rigged the scene – tarnished the circus and its very tenets. This troll was clearly a sign that when a flap closed, a hole opened. Or something like that.
“A sanctum for lost trolls sponsored by the Cult of the Mirthful Messiahs… Sounds like a magical uni-horned hoofbeast-sounding kind of ******** that I am fully behind, Miss Punkie. We can speak more of it after this most holy and fortuitous ******** Gathering! Write up some documents. I would be happy to use my position and influence to assist you.” Tamiya gave her a nod of approval. The lights had dimmed somewhat, replaced by lighters, trashfires and other various arson activities the juggalo community had gone about to doing. The main stage was about to light the ******** up.
“Ah…! We should enjoy the rest of the evening.” Tamiya said. “Bless you for joining us, Punkie. You are a luscious gutspirit and someone who will truly make a difference.”
The performers hit the stage. Backed by grotesque dancers, and malicious acrobats, three most holy prophets of the spoken word broke down the religious texts the two juggalo women knew so very well. Rapping along with fervent zeal, Tamiya lost herself in the music. The night went on, and exhausting as it was, the juggalos of the camp were all rejuvenated in their holy spirit. Assault rates spiked, justice was done, and all was well on Alternia.
Micillia Let me know if this is the finish or if you'd like to do 1 more punkie post!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 11, 2017 10:11 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
