#GamRoxy

[davekat-sucks]

Just the characters themselves, not any of that drama in the comic.

Gamzee♡Jane or Gamzee♡Roxy are better than Davekat

Gamzee ♥️ Jane aka GamJane aka Crockpot

Gamzee ♥️ Roxy aka GamRoxy aka Krunk

are better than Davekat.

Gamzee model by nozomii12 Jane model by Pelvis Costello Roxy model by ufufuchan Poses by ろまん２３ and みねらるおれんじ

[lockedstuck]

moving your mouth to pull out all your miracles

April 2021 - Gamzee Makara

You don’t like the way your thoughts proceed on halo, helldog, or haloperidol, or whatever Karbro calls it. After you take it, the world feels blunt, impersonal, and grayscale, like you’re a motherfucking puppet with a head full of straw. Your brother used to love a poem about that, about some guys with straw heads, but mostly about the world ending.

Kurloz liked a lot of motherfucking things before he did nine months in Rikers for cocaine distribution. Originally it was only supposed to be six months, but he got into a fight and got three months added on. When he got out, he was thoughtful and quiet, even a word of acknowledgment seemingly beyond him. You’ll be damned if that ever happens to you, if you let the system hollow you out until you can’t express the simplest serendipity.

Right now you’re sketching your friends, quick sketches with the charcoal set Dr. Levin brought you. One of Karkat having a rare smile for June, one of Sollux and Roxy talking about programming, one of Dr. V addressing the group about healthy coping mechanisms, and one of Porrim braiding Calliope’s hair. You always feel more like yourself when you’re sketching or painting. Fewer thoughts in your head to get jangle-tangled together and create nonsense. You can keep your miracles straight this way.

You’re cool. You’re easy. You’re loose. No snapped strings, heads full of straw, or blasphemies here, no motherfucking way. The ativan caravan marches through your head, sings your sharp edges to sleep. Nurse Dolores knows what’s up, she only makes you take the medications you want to take. Your cognition flies free, like birds in a breeze, a calm going on between your ears.

Roxy turns and grins at you, her face pale as the moon against her dark hoodie and darker lipstick. She has a smile all her own, a knowing smile like the two of you are in on the greatest secret in the world. You wish you knew precisely what that was about, but everyone has their own internal workings. You can’t know and fix everything about everyone all the time. That’s what you were trying to explain to Sollux last night.

He’s a good guy, but he takes too much on. Same for Karkat. They take on everyone’s issues and make them their own. Only the mirthful messiahs should be able to do so much; humans like trying that hard is a minor sacrilege. If the pair of them would just stick to themselves, maybe they wouldn’t be so sick. You’ll fold more flowers for them - paper flowers that banish repetitive, ruminating thoughts.

You like Roxy a lot, though. She dances through each emotion in its totality, riding the waves of her feelings without fear. Okay, maybe not fearlessly, but with more abandon than you would expect. When she looks at you, you feel warmth all the way to your core, the way you are when you’re about to fall asleep all curled up in your sheets.

Speaking of sleep, Dr. V says that if you keep sleeping through the night, and keep what he calls “disruptive outbursts” about the Dark Carnival to a minimum, maybe you’ll get discharged in a couple of weeks. You’re not exactly in any rush to go home. Home means having to fend for yourself, and fewer friends to keep you in good spirits. Besides, Kurloz is home, and for all that he may be your brother, he gives off bad motherfucking vibes. You wish he’d be easy, like old times, but those days are a long way off.

You remember when you used to be able to relax at home. Relax, smoke a joint, sell an eighth or two, and have dinner without having to fend off your brother’s brooding.

Karkat takes the seat next to you, and you clap him on the back. Physical contact may be discouraged here, but there’re no narcs around to encourage law and order at the moment. You think a support team got dispatched to address Feferi wandering around with no clothes on again.

“What’s up?” Karkat asks.

He nevertheless looks preoccupied and far away. That’s unfortunate.

You take another folded flower out of your pocket and hand it to him.

“There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray, love, remember; and there is pansies, that’s for thoughts,” you recall from a play you had to read in AP English a couple years ago. You can’t exactly remember what the play’s about, but stray lines here and there stick out to you like a sore thumb. Except neither of your actual thumbs are sore.

“That’s from Hamlet, isn’t it?” Karkat asks, shaking his head at you. “What’re you, the bard of 3 East?”

Now you’re not certain about that, but you’ll take it.

“Someone’s gotta be, ain’t they? I got more poetry if you want it.”

Karkat sighs. “Yeah, lay it on me, Makara. Dr. Vandayar told me I’m not getting discharged next week so I’m not feeling great at the moment.”

Poor Karbro looks like he’s full of thunderstorms. Maybe a calm vista will quiet him down. You pull a few lines of poetry free from your memory.

“I shall wear white flannel trousers and walk upon the beach... I have heard the mermaids singing each to each... I do not think that they will sing to me.”

“Go on,” Karkat says, looking all at once pensive and a little sad.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves... Combing the white hair of the waves blown back... When the wind blows the water white and black,” you recite. Now, Roxy, Calliope, and Porrim have stopped to listen to you. You go on, establishing a proper rhythm.

“We have lingered in the chambers of the sea... by sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown... ‘till human voices wake us, and we drown.” When no one says anything, you interject, “That’s the end of the fuckin’ poem, y’all.”

“It’s beautiful,” Porrim whispers. “Did you write that?”

You shake your head in the negative. “Naw, that’s some other motherfucker’s ideas outta my mouth. I wrote a couple of my own lines last night if you wanna hear ‘em, though.”

“Sure,” Calliope says, smiling and clapping her hands once.

“My muse distills my melancholy, pins it to the corkboard with a tack. She presses down upon the pigments, bleeds my blues into the boldest black.”

Even Karkat looks surprised. He narrows his eyes at you.

“If you don’t go study art or literature, or something along that line, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Ain’t no need to resort to murder, brother,” you reply. “And while I’d like to go sit in a motherfucking college somewhere, I ain’t got shit for tuition.”

“If I have to take up a goddamn collection, I am sending your ass to college. Tout-suite.”

You guess now is not the time to inform him that you straight up flunked outta college after you kept forgetting to go to class. You sat in the grass memorizing poetry and sketching the first dandelions of March, which got in the way of your learning anything or taking your exams, or any of the shit college students are supposed to do. You didn’t mean to forget, but you’ve never been great at any routine shit.

And you’ve always had a knack for going where your thoughts take you. When you were a kid, you would leave the house and walk up and down the streets of Harlem unattended. Your grandmother used to read you the riot act for doing something so reckless and nonsensical. Later, during your hospitalizations, you learned that the way your thoughts stuttered and tangled was called schizophrenia, and doctors medicated you accordingly. They called your prophecies delusion, and you beg(ged) to differ.

The medications ground your thought process to a stuttering halt. You hated it. You hated being cut off from yourself. So you stopped taking your meds. And here you are again, with your strange thoughts and remembrances.

“Alas, poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio,” Karkat murmurs.

You grin at him. He understands more than he lets on.

June winks at you, and then walks away to the women’s side of the unit, presumably to call her father. She calls him every day at 8 am and 3 pm, like clockwork. Karkat gazes at her as she walks away, the back of her short dress fluttering behind her.

“June looks nice today,” you say to him.

 He stops staring and glances at you for a moment.

“Yeah, um, she looks nice every day,” he replies. “Not that I make it my business to notice.”

You point to the delicate paper flower he has in his hand. “Sometimes the most miraculous thing you can fuckin’ do is give another person a taste of serendipity.”

Roxy smiles her cheshire cat smile from her seat by the television.

“That’s right, Crabby. Dontcha think June deserves her very own miracle?”

Karkat reddens, looks at the flower in his hand, and takes off for the women’s side.

“Hey, Egbert!” he shouts. “I have something for you.”

By the time you see June again, she’s wearing the small red flower in her hair. Roxy gives you a satisfied little nod, then asks you if you’d like her to put your hair in braids.

“I’m not as good as Pomary with hair, but I’m alright, I guess. Your hair looks like some birds took up residence in it, dude.”

“Why, thank you,” you reply. You take a seat at her feet, after she grabs her comb, brush, hair grease, and spray bottle out of sharps.

She’s right. She’s not a thing like Pomary when it comes to braiding. You’re used to the gentle motions of Porrim’s hands as she manipulates flowers into your hair, but Roxy tugs great fistfuls of your hair into twists. It feels nice, like she’s tethering you to the present, to the here and now.

You tell her that, thank her for bringing you back, and she blushes crimson.

“Aw, I’m not tryna do all of that,” she responds. “Just tryna work through my anxiety. Dolores gave me an ativan an hour ago, and I don’t feel it yet.”

Roxy bends low, and plants a kiss on your forehead, right where your skin meets your greasepaint. Her lips are the softest thing you’ve ever felt.

She keeps braiding, manipulating your hair into cornrows. With Roxy near you, you don’t necessarily have to be a prophet or an apostate of the mirthful messiahs. You don’t have to deliver special messages to special people. You can just be Gamzee Motherfucking Makara, doing you as per usual.

[queeraak]

there needs to be more wonkhonk/gamroxy. yinz are cowards they’re literally amazing together. two people struggling with past substance abuse look to each other for support. they’re both silly, they like magic, they’re kind but powerful. gamroxy is great.

[imhereformysciencefriends]

If y’all will forgive me for being homestuck on main but y’all.... i’m fuckin tender....

[hskin-center]

Aesthetic for Pale Gamzee and Roxy!

-Mod Eridan

[treasonouscomuppance]

* gets real close to mic * gamroxy qpr

[boundprince]

WAIT THEY SHIP FUCKING GAMROXY????

love wins

[stuckatmyhouse12]

wonk honk/gamroxy?

ew / nonono / maybe / >>ship it (it’s weird but I saw it written reely whale one time so I ship it now) / aww / otp / MY HEART

[weredyke]

i want to put gamroxy into the universe. crack ship because i just want to draw them using drugs together

[davekat-sucks]

roxy x gamzee is also better than davekat

GamRoxy aka aka Roxzee Krunk is better than Davekat.

[harshwhimsy]

the wonkhonk tag has been so slow

[oreo-llama]

it’s simple WE HONK THE BATROXY

[viromas]

for the domesticity meme, wonkhonk ovo

who cooks normally?:

gamzee does he really likes to cook and bake and hes always whipping up something new or weird and normally theyre all pretty good

how often do they fight?:

very rarely theyre both super chill and laid back and like to go with the flow and would much rather talk it out than argue

what do they do when they’re away from each other?:

roxy probably doodles him aimlessly and probably sends him a bunch of random messages until he replies 

and he probably bakes her something for when she gets home and waits for her to miss him enough to message him

nicknames for each other?:

gamzee probably has a shit ton of things he calls her like “girly” and “roxy-locks” instead of goldy locks

she probably calls him gamz or gamgam when shes sweet talking him and sometimes zeezee

who is more likely to pay for dinner?:

probably roxy, gamzee is always misplacing his wallet in the weirdest of places

who steals the covers at night?:

gamzee does okay he gets cold really easily but if she takes them back he normally just puts her ontop of him and makes her his blanket

what would they get each other for gifts?:

gamzee is all about homemade gifts and art and most of it is pretty weird and looks like a four year old made it but roxy loves it and she likes to buy him shirts and underwear and she ends up buying him a lot of socks because his socks never ever match

who remembers things?:

neither of them ever remember anything okay they get so many calls “arent you guys late where are you” and theyre just fuck “were we supposed to be somewhere today”

who cusses more?:

gamzee but she ends using motherfuck a whole lot because of him

what would they do if the other one was hurt?:

all i can imagine is them covering eachother in bandaids and later they have to peel them off and it hurts and most of them pull a layer of skin off so they have all these random marks on their skin

who kissed who first?:

gamzee totally kissed her okay hes too mellow hes  was just “okay smooch time” and she was just “sounds good to me”

who made the first move?:

gamzee did, him and roxy got along great as friends but they both totally had a thing for one another

who started the relationship?:

roxy probably made it official like gamzee wasnt sure if they were a thing and roxy is just “yeah we totes is a thing”

[enbyleighlines]

Gamrox. ;3

What is their first big fight about?Ever since Roxy quit alcohol, everyone has been careful not to drink it around her. Gamzee only ever drinks when out of the house, with his other friends. One time, though, Tavros had to bring Gamzee home because he drank too much, and it was really hard on Roxy, and their relationship.

Would they fit best in a medieval period fantasy au or a futuristic sci-fi au? Or would a cross-over suit them better?Hmmmm… a medieval period fantasy au. Roxy could be a princess and Gamzee is the court jester who makes her laugh so hard that she falls out of her chair and embarrasses the whole family.

What high school cliche groups would they be in? If not in the same group, how do they end up falling in love?They’re both total geeks. Gamzee was a stoner and Roxy an alcoholic and they ended up meeting at a support group and just becoming the best of friends.

How do their other quadrants get along with their significant other?Roxy loves “Kitkat”, as she calls him, and even if he’s a bit annoyed but Roxy at times, Karkat genuinely likes her.

What cliche romcom plot would I like to see happen to them?I want some romcom where Gamzee and Roxy are both getting over their exes and find out their exes are dating each other and that’s how they meet and they plot to break them up but end up falling for each other ooops.

What fictional couple would they cosplay as together?Frigglish and whoever Roxy ships with Frigglish.

Who do they have as their best man(s) and/or maid of honor(s)? Who cries at the wedding?Roxy’s maid of honor is Rose, and Gamzee’s is Karkat. Everyone cries, even Rose, but she does it discreetly so no one ever finds out about it.

[davekat-sucks]

GamRoxy aka krunk is better than Davekat.

[harshwhimsy]

streaming