05-05-2016, 01:00 PM
Gamzee snorted. He snorted and snickered and sallied-forth. Walking with a lazy little sway, the clown assesses his situation and finds that he doesn't quite like it. Ash caked his favorite canvas shoes, staining the white inlaid. He really wasn't happy about being here, not happy at all. The lack of chill vibes in the Ashen Steppes was just straight up unmiraculized miraculous. Or Something. Whatever. He was about to turn the Ashen Steppes into the Bashin' Steppes.
Ha.
He came to this disappointing deadish place because there was a serious disturbance in the Mirth. Something biznasty was here, something that the Mirthful Messiahs DEMAND be excommunicated from their presence. Because they're everywhere, man. Everywhere. Even in this forsaken place, in this forsaken universe. Miracles.
Ahaha. Thar she blows. Sunshades. Broken sword. Punchline bowl cut. Ironic attitude. Yep, thats the one. Shimmer shimmer, rainbow-y glimmer. Twin pins omniricalize into existence, tight ivory filling Gamzee's palms.
"Blasphemous Cretin!" He shouts, his voice the rage of thunder and the sharpness of lightning.
Yes. Gamzee remembers this one well. From that fateful day, when he was exposed to such sacrilege. This was the boy behind the video link. This was the man that forced "Insane Clown Pussies" into his life. Well, right here is where it ends. Right here is where that heresy is put to rest. The others there? The creepy lookin' motherfuckers? The Clown Prince of Rhyme doesn't even notice them. They are insignificant in this grand scheme of things. If they get in his way, they die. That's all there is to it.
With a magnificent twirling of clubs, the neon colors dance, even in the darkness of the Steppes.
"I'm about to kick the wicked truth 'atcha. The Clownish Inquisition is underway, motherfucker."
Ha.
He came to this disappointing deadish place because there was a serious disturbance in the Mirth. Something biznasty was here, something that the Mirthful Messiahs DEMAND be excommunicated from their presence. Because they're everywhere, man. Everywhere. Even in this forsaken place, in this forsaken universe. Miracles.
Ahaha. Thar she blows. Sunshades. Broken sword. Punchline bowl cut. Ironic attitude. Yep, thats the one. Shimmer shimmer, rainbow-y glimmer. Twin pins omniricalize into existence, tight ivory filling Gamzee's palms.
"Blasphemous Cretin!" He shouts, his voice the rage of thunder and the sharpness of lightning.
Yes. Gamzee remembers this one well. From that fateful day, when he was exposed to such sacrilege. This was the boy behind the video link. This was the man that forced "Insane Clown Pussies" into his life. Well, right here is where it ends. Right here is where that heresy is put to rest. The others there? The creepy lookin' motherfuckers? The Clown Prince of Rhyme doesn't even notice them. They are insignificant in this grand scheme of things. If they get in his way, they die. That's all there is to it.
With a magnificent twirling of clubs, the neon colors dance, even in the darkness of the Steppes.
"I'm about to kick the wicked truth 'atcha. The Clownish Inquisition is underway, motherfucker."
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![[Image: dlpaou6b73f.gif]](http://www.auplod.com/u/dlpaou6b73f.gif)
-by Jade Harley
Never Falter in the Face of Infinity.
-Tearan Wover
-by Jade Harley
Never Falter in the Face of Infinity.
-Tearan Wover