velun-slivera

[velun-slivera]

Maybe the god Gamzee worshipped has died, disappeared, or been destroyed.

He has lost his faith.

But gods live on in people’s hearts. He simply needs to build his own spiritual pillar — one that doesn’t collapse just because of someone else’s words.

The question isn’t so much whether the god has truly perished, but whether the individual’s reconstruction of their beliefs and mindset is done properly.

This is how I understand him, and also how I see the tone of Gamzee’s character and the Bard class — focused on discussions of religious faith.

Compared to the Hope aspect — which is about belief in conviction, the future, and truth — the Bard is about devotion to faith and living within a well-crafted story, calm and at peace. When that story is pierced and no longer beautiful, they can easily fall into corruption or madness, like Gamzee or Cronus.

[velun-slivera]

[velun-slivera]

[velun-slivera]

one mmeulin from *checks watch* 3am

[velun-slivera]

losers

[velun-slivera]

My queen Gamzee,, I love you,, don't die–

[velun-slivera]

machine ggirl vriska maybe stupid maybe cool

[velun-slivera]

For me, the suffering of the Five Aggregates in turmoil is the hardest to overcome.

After my family decided I was a wasteful traitor, my father told me never to contact him again, and my sisters told me to take care of myself and live my own life. I felt abandoned by my family.

Even though they still loved me, still called me family, and still gave me the help I needed, that sense of estrangement never faded.

Whenever others’ doubts resurface—questioning my motives and intentions, accusing me of simply wanting to use my family’s resources, money, and energy to solve any problem in my life—

My body reacts: my heartbeat quickens, my breath becomes rapid, my muscles tense.

Form (色): The physical tension and oppression make me feel as if I’m always on a battlefield.

Feeling (受): Anger, grievance, and loss intertwine into intense emotion.

Perception (想): The other person’s words and tone replay endlessly in my mind.

Mental Formations (行): The urge to argue, to block, to leave.

Consciousness (識): A deep conviction that I’ve been betrayed and abandoned—even if they deny it, nothing can shake this feeling.

Emotions burn like fire, with the five aggregates feeding one another.

The whole world becomes my enemy.

Friends’ disbelief, exclusion, prejudice.

Family’s betrayal, doubt, accusations.

Materially, nothing has changed—yet in my heart, I am utterly alone.

They say they never abandoned me, never stopped treating me as family—but I feel forsaken, despised, and hated.

Greed, anger, delusion, arrogance, doubt.

Greed—for the beauty of the past.

Anger—born solely from the existence of conflict.

Delusion—from thoughts that are not clear enough.

Arrogance—born from the fusion of anger, greed, and delusion, shaping my attitude toward others.

Doubt—the rootless fragility of not even being certain of my own thoughts.

I once hated them. I chose to leave, to stop arguing, to stop wasting my energy on a confrontation that could never be reconciled.

They said I was too angry, making a fuss over nothing—extreme, resentful.

In a situation where I could not be understood, I felt conflicted, unable to get the support, strength, or reason to keep living that I needed.

So I left.

I built a new life and new goals—

To live out my ideals and fulfill my life’s purpose.

The suffering did not disappear, nor was it forgotten, but I chose to let go, to see through it, to release it, and to walk away.

The physical pain will come again—

But I will no longer silently endure it.

[velun-slivera]

Troll 血色等級觀察表 | Troll Blood Caste Observation Chart

🔴 鏽紅血（Rust Blood）

社會最底層，被視為劣等。

工作類型：垃圾處理、守墓人、污水清理等髒累活。

常被剝削，生存艱難，但對生死與記憶擁有獨特連結。

The lowest rung of society, regarded as inferior.

Common roles: Garbage disposal, gravekeeping, sewage cleaning, and other dirty, exhausting labor.

Often exploited, survival is harsh, but they hold a unique connection to death and memory.

🟤 棕血（Brown Blood）

負責畜牧與農業，是與動物最親近的階層。

生活質樸、勞力為主，是平民百姓的代表。

Responsible for livestock and agriculture, the caste most closely connected with animals.

They live simple, labor-driven lives, representing the common folk.

🟡 金血（Gold Blood）

通常擁有中等智力資源。

介於腦力與勞力之間，可以是工程師、工匠或技術工人。

Generally granted mid-level intellectual resources.

They bridge mental and manual work, often serving as engineers, craftsmen, or technical workers.

🫒 橄欖血（Olive Blood）

直覺敏銳，與野性相連的祭司／獵人。

擅長馴獸，生活於森林、荒野，有種靈性的敬畏與自由。

Instinctive and wild, they serve as shamans or hunters.

Skilled at beast-taming, they dwell in forests and wilderness, carrying a spiritual sense of reverence and freedom.

💚 翡翠血（Jade Blood）

唯一可在陽光下行走者，代表「孕育」與「延續」。

天生保母，是繁殖系統的核心；擁有特殊保護與壓抑規則。

The only caste able to walk under sunlight, representing “nurture” and “continuation.”

Born caretakers, they are the core of the reproductive system; heavily protected yet heavily restricted.

💙 藍綠血（Teal Blood）

法律系統核心：審判、秩序、執行者。

冷靜而有邏輯，時常被視為刻板或無情，但擁有鋼鐵般的原則。

The core of the judicial system: judges, enforcers, and keepers of order.

Calm and logical, often seen as rigid or unfeeling, but they uphold steel-like principles.

🔵 鈷藍血（Cobalt Blood）

高等突變體，有強烈的存在焦慮與野心。

常被夾在上下階級間，不被完全接納，也無法完全脫身。

為證明價值可付出一切，否則容易被世界遺忘。

High-tier mutants, burdened by deep existential anxiety and ambition.

Caught between high and low castes, never fully accepted nor fully detached.

Will give everything to prove their worth, otherwise easily forgotten by the world.

🟣 靛藍血（Indigo Blood）

掌握科技的高血，對理性與知識有極高追求。

是連結高血與中低血的橋梁。

表面禮貌、克制，實則矛盾內斂，柔情深藏於冰冷下。

Highbloods who master technology, with an extreme pursuit of reason and knowledge.

They are the bridge between highbloods and the middle-lower tiers.

Polite and restrained on the surface, yet internally conflicted, hiding tenderness beneath a cold exterior.

🟪 紫色血（Purple Blood）

小丑信仰者、教派主體，是宗教與靈性崇拜者。

以狂信與暴力為特徵，充滿神秘感。

是古老文化的延續者，同時也是壓抑瘋狂的神僕。

The faithful of the clown cult, embodying religion and spiritual worship.

Defined by fanaticism and violence, shrouded in mystery.

They preserve ancient culture while suppressing madness as servants of their god.

🔮 紫羅蘭血（Violet Blood）

王族護衛、近身侍衛、封地貴族。

擁有極高資源，與皇儲最接近的武力階層。

對皇權絕對效忠，卻也可能隱藏自己的一套規則。

Royal guards, personal attendants, and landed nobility.

Possess vast resources, standing closest to the heiress as an elite military caste.

Swear absolute loyalty to the crown, yet may secretly follow their own rules.

💗 洋紅血（Fuchsia Blood）

皇儲等級，是整個社會的統治者與血統象徵。

身處殘酷的皇位爭奪中，不是活下來就是被清除。

可能成為懶惰貴族，也可能是殺戮機器。

Heiress tier—the rulers and living symbols of the empire’s bloodline.

Locked in a brutal struggle for the throne; you either survive or get erased.

May become indolent aristocrats or ruthless killing machines.

🫀 隱藏階級：萊姆血（Lime Blood）

擁有高感知與靈魂級敏銳。

太過清醒、太過溫柔，因此被歷代女皇抹除，視為異端與威脅。

若突變為鮮紅，象徵天啟之兆，也是所有悲劇的開端。

醒來很痛所以、這就是突變血是鮮紅色的原因吧。

Possess heightened perception and soul-level sensitivity.

Too lucid, too gentle—thus purged by every Empress in history, deemed heresy and a threat.

If mutated into bright red, it heralds an omen of revelation… and the beginning of every tragedy.

Waking is agony—perhaps that’s why mutant blood turns bright red.

[velun-slivera]

The confrontation came without warning.

She was simply standing there—then struck down.

No declaration. No argument. Just a flash of energy, a single instant, and she was pierced through.

She fell.

Blood flooded the ground. Her consciousness scattered.

It was an ending. And a beginning.

But she did not die.

No. She awoke in the dark—her body changed, her heart transformed.

She had become a drinker—not to survive, but to be reborn.

She remembered the pain.

She remembered the silent betrayal.

No words. No quarrel.

Only the kill.

A clean severance of trust, swift and wordless.

So she no longer hesitated.

She picked up the chainsaw—not for revenge—

but for execution.

Eridan Ampora had become an evil that must be erased.

And she was the blade of destiny meant to carry it out.

She did not roar. She did not tremble.

Split in half—that was enough.

Like pruning an overgrown thorn bush, she merely completed the task.

Then, she leaned down.

Close to the wound. Her breath soft, lips slightly parted.

It didn’t feel gruesome.

It was sweet. Almost merciful.

She drank. She licked. She sipped the final warmth,

bit by bit—

as though soothing his soul. As though gently sending it off.

Who would have imagined she’d become this?

She, Kanaya—once their most stable pillar, their elegant harmonizer—

now crouched over a corpse,

drinking from the lips of a fallen comrade,

pulling him into the dark.

He died beneath her lips.

His warmth faded.

He became a soulless shell.

She felt nothing. No guilt. No satisfaction.

She was simply—a drinker.

One who, between hunger and instinct,

had learned to feast with grace.

⸻

Before he could realize it,

he was simply standing—

and the next second, the chainsaw tore through him.

The pain barely registered in his mind—only a sense of interruption,

like a sentence cut off mid-word.

The Kanaya he saw was silent.

Like an ocean frozen over, with cracks that made no sound.

As he collapsed, he saw her bending toward him.

So close.

He wanted to speak.

To say—“I didn’t mean to.”

To say—“You look beautiful.”

To say—“Please… don’t forget me.”

But he had no more words.

Only his gaze.

She pressed close. Her lips touched the warmth at his neck.

He flinched—but couldn’t name the feeling.

It wasn’t pain.

It wasn’t fear.

It was something ancient and syrup-sweet,

a feverish pull—

an illusion of love,

a withdrawal of life.

He felt himself receding.

Like low tide.

Like a shell being hollowed.

He did not hate her.

He only wanted to know—

had she ever seen him?

Ever known his loneliness?

His final image was of her eyes.

Those beautiful, merciless eyes,

clear and pale as moonlight.

And then—nothing.

[velun-slivera]

🌫️ it’s cruel, isn’t it?

people like me…

we get hurt simply because others think it’s “acceptable.”

like it’s normal. like it’s deserved.

everything keeps happening.

they call it impermanence.

but it’s not really chaos, is it?

it’s just the same empty patterns,

the same hollow cycles

repeating themselves

over and over again.

maybe that’s all it ever was.

這很殘忍吧。

就像我這種人，曾經被傷害。只是因為他們合理的認為可以這樣做。

世事萬千，何來無常，皆有空序。大概就是這樣。

[velun-slivera]

【The Echo of a Honk】

Gamzee just lays there sometimes, thinking.

Of solitude and silence.

He’s not quiet because he has nothing to say—

But because there’s nothing worth saying anymore.

God and belief.

A lonely home.

This is all he can do now—

Let faith hold him,

Let it fill the emptiness left by the lusus who never stayed.

At least, it wasn’t that he was unloved—

He was just… waiting.

Togetherness is always fleeting.

And so, he simply learns to embrace—

To hold, for just a breath,

That brief warmth

before it disappears again.

“Honk.”

The echo fills the space.

Nothing left to reply.

He’s just—

Alone.

[velun-slivera]

Gamzee’s lips pressed against Tavros’s, already drained of warmth.

A severed head. Blood, still sticky.

What he tasted wasn’t just mouth and tongue—it was iron and grief.

But that didn’t matter.

He was simply… shattered. A love that had nowhere to go.

A farewell that could never be spoken.

A voice caught in the throat and torn to shreds.

This—this was all he could do to make his heart ache less.

He didn’t cry.

He just stayed there, remembering for a moment.

He knew what had happened.

Or maybe… he didn’t.

He hadn’t killed anyone.

But his hands were stained with blood.

His faith—shattered.

His friends—gone.

The fury he couldn’t control burned through him like molten lead.

God, what’s left in this world that’s even worth mourning?

Destruction takes only a word.

A second.

A single frame.

He didn’t show much on his face,

but inside—he was a wildfire.

Nepeta. Equius.

They had simply wandered into his chaos, unaware, undeserving.

Terezi—

She was just another pawn left behind by the motherfucking cueball.

And he no longer knew what to believe.

He only knew this:

He was still clawing at the edges of His shadow.

Still trying to hold onto something—

anything—

that would let him remember

what he once looked like

before everything fell apart.

[velun-slivera]

【The Kiss at the Edge of the Abyss】

Karkat didn’t particularly like Gamzee, but the guy could be easy to talk to sometimes—so they were still technically friends.

It was a weird dynamic.

He was just… one of those people Karkat hadn’t killed. That was it.

But deep down, Karkat was scared of him.

Like—What is he thinking? Could he snap at any moment? Why the hell does he stay calm around me of all people?

…Sometimes, it felt like a trap. That moment—of calmness, of “pale moirail comfort”… it had to be staged.

He really, truly couldn’t trust Gamzee.

Not the religious fanaticism.

Not the cryptic missions he kept under wraps.

Not even the long, eerie silences.

He didn’t believe any of it.

He’d rather trust his own outbursts than Gamzee’s quiet—because at least his fury was honest. Gamzee’s silence was the breath of a beast.

What terrified him wasn’t what the lunatic might do—it was the day Gamzee might suddenly decide that this was all Karkat’s fault.

And on that day, he’d smile.

And end the joke with his own hands.

Days passed.

Months.

Not a single word between them.

Their connection had turned into something gossamer-thin.

A veil.

Barely there.

Left to be chewed by moths and forgotten beneath a dusty coat.

Was it ever real?

To Gamzee—was he just a disposable shred of humanity?

An echo in the vents?

A mirage in a dream?

A sweet, sticky scent in the air?

He wasn’t anyone. Just a lamb on the altar.

A shadow flashed at the edge of his vision—

Then, a pale face.

The scent of cheap makeup.

And the heady perfume of wine.

“You doin’ alright, little brother?”

Gamzee murmured lazily.

“I’m guessin’ you are?”

His hand reached up—gentle, almost tender.

“Am I scary?” He smiled. It was deep. Like a hum.

“We should have lil’ meetups more often, don’t ya think…?”

“Or is it that…” he leaned in, voice syrup-slow,

“…you’ve been tryin’ to stay away from me?”

Karkat smacked his hand away, staring at him in disbelief.

Where the hell did he come from?

What the hell did he want?

“That’s what I should be asking you!?”

His voice cracked—like a lighter that refused to spark.

He was terrified. Absolutely. No denying that.

“Maybe you should relax a lil’… my dear brother.”

Gamzee’s voice was calm. Too calm.

“I missed you. Did you know that?”

Karkat stumbled back, heel striking the corner of the wall—his heart struck harder.

Gamzee, unhurried, glided forward like a grinning mist, slowly wrapping around him with a hush.

“You shouldn’t be thinking like that, brother.”

His voice dragged like wet slippers across a cold floor—sticky, clinging, impossible to shake.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said,

but his eyes crawled in like something slithering out of the wall—slow, invasive, wrong.

His knuckles tapped against the concrete behind Karkat’s head, rhythmic like a lullaby from somewhere else.

“It’s just a dream. Dreams don’t bite, right?”

Karkat wanted to speak, but his throat locked tight. He stared at the pale face before him, powdered with some scent—like sugar rotting on wilted petals. It turned his stomach even as it pulled him closer.

“You…” he finally rasped, “You’re not even human anymore, are you?”

Gamzee tilted his head, like he’d just heard the cutest little mistake.

“And what are you, brother? You’ve always been my little lamb in the dream. You never left.”

He reached out, brushing a fingertip to Karkat’s temple.

The touch was too gentle to be hostile—yet it was harder to endure than any blow.

“Relax. You’re always so tense.”

“I just wanted to… see you,” he chuckled lowly.

“To see how much of you is still left.”

Karkat wanted to run—he really did.

But his foot slipped.

He crashed against the wall.

Smack.

Gamzee’s palm landed beside his head, sealing him in. Then the other hand followed, locking the exit shut.

They were too close—far too close.

Their breath tangled in the narrow space between them, and that sickly blend of alcohol and cheap powder clung to the air like a broken perfume—nauseating, unshakable.

“You have no idea how obedient you look with your eyes wide open,”

Gamzee murmured, a smile ghosting across his lips—not kind, not teasing.

Hungry.

Waiting.

Waiting for him to break.

“Let me go…” Karkat tried to shove him away—but couldn’t.

Gamzee was like a wet wall, pressing in, unrelenting.

“You look for me in your dreams, don’t you?” His voice slid past Karkat’s ear like breath turned liquid.

“You say you can’t forget. Those nights, those things… You haven’t slept soundly in years.”

Karkat’s back was flush against the wall, his breathing ragged.

“What… what the hell do you want?”

Gamzee chuckled, lowering his forehead to meet his.

“You tell me.” He licked his lips slowly.

“I just didn’t want you to be so lonely anymore, brother.”

Karkat’s hands were still pressed against his chest—but it was useless now. He couldn’t move.

Gamzee was too close. His body heat, his breathing, the way he laughed—

—it was all some kind of hypnotic, slow poison.

“You… you’re not really here…” Karkat whispered, barely audible.

“You weren’t supposed to… come back…”

Gamzee smiled, tilting his head like watching a little animal tremble.

“You called me back, didn’t you?”

He dipped low, brushing his nose against Karkat’s—absurd, soft, wrong.

“You said you missed me in your dreams.

Were you lying, Karkat?”

Karkat clenched his teeth, eyes burning red.

He wanted to scream, but it felt like a stone was wedged in his throat.

Gamzee reached out, almost lazily brushing his face—

His thumb paused on Karkat’s cheek, then slowly slid downward, tracing the edge of his mouth.

It wasn’t a caress. It was a sketch,

like outlining the shape of a fruit just ripe enough to be picked.

“You really are scared of me.”

He sighed, but didn’t stop.

“But I swear, I won’t touch you the way I did before…

Unless you beg me to.”

Karkat shuddered, eyes locked on his.

Gamzee finally stepped back—but his smile lingered in the air,

like a nightmare still curling through the vent, not quite dispersed.

He didn’t press in again. Instead, he sat down beside Karkat, like a puddle of fog collecting on the ground.

“You know… sometimes I just want someone to sit with me,”

he murmured, voice barely above a whisper—maybe not even meant for Karkat.

“Not to scare you. Not to make you cry like that…

I’m just… cold.”

His gaze dropped to his empty hands.

“I remember you didn’t used to be this afraid of me.”

Karkat still couldn’t speak. His body remained tense,

but he noticed the faint tremble in Gamzee’s fingers.

It didn’t look like someone about to strike—

It looked like a hand that hadn’t touched anything warm in far too long.

Gamzee sighed again, pulling his hand back.

“…I won’t force you,” he said, voice unusually calm.

“But I’ll wait for you. Even if you never come, I’ll stay. Right here.”

Something twisted inside Karkat when he heard that.

It wasn’t warmth—it was the kind of devotion that aches. That breaks something inside you.

When Gamzee stood, his figure felt even hollower than before.

His silhouette blurred into the night like mist, swallowed by shadows.

Karkat still couldn’t move.

He hugged himself, staring at the place Gamzee had been.

He understood—

He was just terrified.

Terrified that one day, he might want to reach back.

Finally, Karkat broke the silence.

His voice came out cracked and sharp—like a dull blade pressing against the throat.

“What the hell have you even been doing, Gamzee?”

The words echoed through the empty vents like a thrown curse.

“You drift around like a fucking ghost—lurking, appearing, disappearing like some freak sideshow! What the fuck do you even want?”

Gamzee stopped.

He didn’t turn around at first.

After a pause, he slowly faced Karkat again.

That same sad, careless smile clung to his face like a bruise.

“I wish I knew, brother.”

He spread his hands, voice hollow, bitter—almost mocking himself:

“I wake up every day…

And I sit. I watch things rot. I smell the air sour.

I watch dreams snap apart.

I don’t fucking know what I’m doing.”

“Then why come to me?” Karkat’s voice cracked again.

“I’m not like them. I don’t buy into your bullshit.”

Gamzee tilted his head, like he’d just heard something adorable.

“Maybe that’s exactly why I came to you.”

He stepped closer—so soft his footsteps were soundless, like fog walking.

“I always thought you were loud. Annoying. Impossible.”

“But you’ve always lived like someone real.”

He stared at Karkat.

“Not like me.

I live like a torn-up scrap of paper.”

“I just wanted to know…

if I could still get close to something that’s alive.”

“Besides your god,”

Karkat said lowly, eyes boring into him,

“Do you even remember what it means to be human?”

It wasn’t a scream—it was a blade.

It cut, packed with disbelief, bitterness,

and just a little taste of… betrayal.

“I don’t believe you.”

Gamzee didn’t answer right away.

He stared quietly, gaze dropping to the floor.

That line had hit something deep.

“I tried to forget them.”

His voice came out like a stone sinking into a lake.

“I really thought I had, Karkat.”

“But look at me now.”

When he looked up again, his eyes swam with something blurred and dangerous—

Not madness. Not sanity.

Something suspended between collapse and hunger.

“I still remember your voice,” he whispered.

“When my mind’s fucked and reeling,

that goddamn blaring siren you call a voice still rattles in my skull like a fire alarm.”

He stepped closer, as if sharing a secret no one else should hear:

“I remember you calling me a dumbass,

throwing pillows at me,

the first time you screamed ‘get the fuck away’—”

He paused. Then chuckled quietly.

“That face was even funnier than today’s.”

“I haven’t forgotten you.”

His voice softened.

“I just… don’t know how to be a person anymore.”

You know something—

Gamzee’s voice came like a breath against the ear,

but there was a storm tangled in it.

“I truly believe… God will bring the end.”

“The end of this farce. This absurd parade.

This fate that’s ripped us to shreds.”

His eyes gleamed—not with chaos, but with something even scarier:

Clarity.

“Even if it’s destruction…

I believe it’ll be mercy.”

“Because you don’t understand, Karkat.”

He lowered his head, like confessing a sin.

“I’ve seen too many fall apart.

I’ve seen you grit your teeth and push through.

I’ve seen myself go insane.

I’ve seen everything melt into sludge.”

“I don’t want anyone to suffer anymore.

I don’t want to watch you suffer like that again.”

He reached out, gently brushing Karkat’s cheek—

as if touching a mirage he thought he had lost forever and somehow found again.

“So I have to help God… become God.”

He smiled, soft and sorrowful.

“I chose destruction, Karkat… to save you.”

“You’re insane, Gamzee.”

Karkat’s voice trembled, sharp as a blade.

It wasn’t just accusation—it was a rupture.

“I hate you.”

He slapped Gamzee’s hand away,

like peeling venom off the surface of his heart.

“You’re terrifying… You really are.”

His throat tightened.

His voice cracked like a cliff about to collapse.

Gamzee didn’t move.

He only tilted his head slightly, his eyes quietly saying: “I know.”

Karkat took a step back, fists clenched, barely breathing.

He shouted, raw and broken:

“I never knew you! Never—!”

“You—your laugh was stupid, your words always messed up,

you ruined everything—I always thought you were just—just—”

He gasped, his whole body trembling from the surge.

“I really, really thought you were my friend…”

His voice dropped, like something caved in.

“But now I know who you are.”

“You’re the one who chose betrayal,

who chose to believe in destruction,

who chose to drag us all into the abyss, no matter the cost.”

He stared at him, voice like frozen steel.

“You’re not my brother.

You’re the disaster itself.”

Gamzee looked at him.

He didn’t speak immediately—only began to smile.

Not the goofy, lopsided grin of the clown Karkat once knew.

But something twisted, cold,

a dead kind of smile—

like his soul had already burned away in the fire of divine awakening.

“…Heh… hehehe…”

Laughter trickled from his throat,

like air bubbles leaking through blood.

His eyes unfocused—

as if he couldn’t see Karkat anymore,

or didn’t want to.

“You’re right, Karkat…”

“I am the disaster.”

He tilted his head like a marionette with snapped strings.

“I’m the monster forsaken by God,

the last piece that never fits into the puzzle of love and order.”

“So tell me—how could I ever not be lonely?”

He stepped forward.

Karkat instinctively recoiled.

Gamzee stopped, his gaze hollowing into an abyss.

“All of you… every last one… you’ll run.”

“You’ll say you’re afraid,

you’ll say you hate me,

you’ll say you never knew me.”

“But God won’t.”

His smile stretched, strained to the point of tearing.

“Only God—only He—was never afraid of me.”

“He’ll take me in.

He’ll hold me.

He’ll accept me.

To the place none of you dare go—hell, the end, destruction, whatever it is.”

“You don’t get it.

None of you do.”

He lifted his hand—not to touch Karkat,

but like pointing to something impossibly far off in the cosmos.

“I’ll help Him ascend…

Because I am His hand.”

“I stopped being one of you a long time ago, Karkat.”

“I am His disaster.”

Karkat stared at him, throat clenching hard enough to hurt.

He shouldn’t move closer.

He knew this wasn’t right.

This person was no longer the same.

That sickly-sweet wine smell, the dry face powder, the ash behind his eyes—

That wasn’t the Gamzee he remembered.

But his feet didn’t move back.

“…Gamzee.”

Karkat said softly.

“You just want to be loved.”

The words had barely left his mouth when Gamzee shoved him against the wall.

Not violently—

More like he was struggling to maintain some semblance of being human.

His hands trembled as they cupped Karkat’s face,

as if cradling something that might fall apart any second.

“Shut up,” he rasped.

“You don’t understand… You don’t know me.”

Karkat didn’t flinch.

He gritted his teeth, caught in the space between fury and heartbreak.

“Then kiss me.

Prove you’re still alive.

Prove you’re still you.”

Gamzee’s eyes flickered—violently.

And then he kissed him.

Not gently.

Not like a lover.

It was a kiss meant to shatter.

Like a madman gripping his last warmth,

like two people embracing at the end of the world.

Gamzee’s lips were both ice and flame,

his breathing ragged,

like there was a cry buried deep in every gasp.

Karkat tried to speak—

but no words came.

He could only grab Gamzee’s shirt and clutch it like a lifeline,

as if trying to pull him back from hell.

But he knew—he couldn’t.

He just stood there, stunned.

The kiss was too sudden,

too hot,

too trembling.

It felt like his whole soul was being scorched.

Gamzee’s mouth pressed on his,

as if laced with a curse—

Grief-laced.

Final.

Desperate for salvation.

Karkat stood frozen, eyes wide open—

feeling the heat burn through the dark.

And he didn’t push him away.

Because in that moment,

he realized—

Gamzee wasn’t just destroying something.

He was holding on.

Not an enemy.

Not a monster.

But someone being swallowed by the world,

and clutching him like he was the only thing left.

Karkat whispered,

“…What are you doing… What are you trying to keep?”

Gamzee didn’t answer.

He only leaned his forehead against Karkat’s—

As if praying.

As if mourning.

“If you remember this moment…”

“Then it means… I haven’t lost everything yet.”

Then he let go.

Turned away.

And stepped into the abyss,

as if nothing had happened.

[velun-slivera]

【Gamzee’s Confession】

If there truly is a god—

Out there, beyond the vast and silent void,

Beyond the black veil where even the stars fall quiet—

Then surely, that god must be the one I created with my own hands.

My only true god.

One I etched out in strokes of madness and blood.

I once poured my everything into loving, into believing,

Using faith to seal every crack splitting my body.

Until those godly images crumbled,

The laws turned to ash,

And every shell I once worshipped died, abandoned me, denied me.

I had already lost my way.

I couldn’t even recognize my own face anymore.

I no longer knew who I was kneeling to,

Nor whether the phrase “Glory be to…” still had any place left to belong.

But still—I wanted to believe in something.

Even if it wasn’t the original god.

Even if it was just hope and faith molded from my own hands.

Even if I knew—deep down—that it wasn’t real.

Still, I believed He was there,

Waiting for me.

Loving me.

Even if only for a second.

Even if He had never existed.

As long as I still held Him in my heart,

Then I had not yet been completely forgotten by the world.

God lives within everyone’s heart.

That’s what he believed.

No longer torn apart by others’ words, no longer wounded by confusion or insult.

Worshiping the clown—was only surface-level.

His truth lay in his words, his body, his will.

In his heart lived a god—not taught by others, not instilled by the world.

That was his god, his faith, his light.

Living was hard.

Empty, yet unavoidable.

All he could do—was keep walking.

To speak his truth, to act his truth,

To write his own scripture and gospel.

Then suddenly, he burst out screaming, like ripping his heart open and throwing it into the air—

“Fk fate! Fk rage, slaughter, and those fking lapdogs! I’m sick of all this sh*t! What the hell am I even chasing?! Nobody gives a damn! Whether this world lives or dies—I don’t fking care anymore! All I care about is whether I get my goddamn soda, eat my grape gummies, and pass out in a puddle of sopor slime—like nothing f**king matters!!”

And then he laughed.

Laughed at how dumb, annoying, and stupid he was.

He had killed friends,

For reasons far too foolish.

He missed them too,

Because he so desperately needed love.

He had fallen in love with a few people—because he was human.

He had revived friends for missions, twisted the narrative, upturned everything.

Who was he, really? What had he even said?

Being a creature of extremes—was the only part of him that never wavered.

He was tired.

Living like a ghost, drifting and rootless.

Where was he?

Where—was his home?

He let out a long sigh—

Like falling asleep, slow and quiet, a breath of smoke drifting out.

“Maybe… no one loves me,” he murmured. “But that’s alright.”

“I’ll leave.”

“I’ll find a place that belongs to me.”

He sat up, lit a cigarette.

The taste was bitter—not liberation—

Just the demon that lived inside nicotine. A curse he couldn’t shake.

He didn’t understand his mission.

Didn’t know where he belonged in the world.

Didn’t know how to live in a way that made him “real,” how to be seen again.

He had always been this way: wild, polar, unrestrained.

But this time—he felt something new.

Fear.

Not repression, not anger—not any of the fake emotions he used to mask himself.

Real, bone-deep fear.

Fear that no one had ever truly accepted him.

Fear that he could never be someone with emotions, with thoughts, with choice.

Fear that he was born only to be a puppet in someone else’s play—a character without destiny.

A few tears fell.

Burning, stinging.

The salt blurred into the smoke.

He lifted his hand, flicked the ash gently.

It hurt.

A kind of pain that cut through the heart but left the body unscathed.

Wounds that wouldn’t bleed, pasts that wouldn’t heal, scars that would never fade.

Chains of fate flickered in his mind—unshakable.

But he was still him.

Gamzee Makara.

Devotee of the clown.

Child left behind by god.

A being of extremes.

[velun-slivera]

something old

[velun-slivera]

Gamzee的自白

如果真的有神——

在那遙遠的虛空之外，

在連星星都沉默的黑幕之後——

那麼，祂肯定是我親手造出來的。

我唯一的真神。

是我在瘋狂與血泊中，一筆一劃刻畫出的救贖者。

我曾經傾盡一切去愛，去信，

用信仰堵住身上的每一道裂縫。

直到那些神的形象崩解，

那些律法成灰，

那些我崇拜的殼一個個死去、遺棄我、否定我。

我早就迷了路。

連自己的臉都認不清了。

我不知道我跪拜的是誰，

也不知道那句「榮耀歸於誰」還有沒有地方可歸。

但我仍想相信點什麼。

哪怕不是原本的神也沒關係，

哪怕只是我自己捏出來的希望與信念也好，

哪怕我知道——那不是真的。

我仍然相信祂就在那裡，

等我。

愛我。

哪怕只有一秒。

哪怕祂從未存在。

只要我心裡還有祂，

那我就還沒有被這世界徹底遺忘。

神，在每個人心裡。

他這麼相信著。

他不再被他人的語言撕扯、不再受迷惘與辱罵傷害。

崇拜小丑，只是外表。

而他的言、他的身、他的意，才是真理。

他心中有神。不是他人教他的，不是世界灌輸的。

那是他的神，他的信仰，他的光。

活著真的很難。

很虛無，卻又如此必然。

他能做的，就是走下去，

說出他的言，活出他的行，

寫下屬於他的經文與福音。

他突然爆吼了一句，像把心臟整顆撕開丟進空氣裡——

「去他媽的命運、狂怒、殺戮、走狗！我厭倦了這一切！我到底在追求什麼？根本沒人在乎！這世界是死是活，我他媽都不管了！我只在乎下一秒我能不能喝到汽水，吃到葡萄軟糖，倒在睡眠黏液裡呼呼大睡——像是一切都與我無關！！」

然後他笑了。

笑自己蠢、煩、傻得可笑。

他殺過朋友，

因為一些愚蠢至極的理由；

也懷念他們，

因為他太需要那份愛了。

他曾經愛上過一些人，因為他是人。

為了任務復活朋友、編造劇情、顛覆一切，

他到底是誰？他到底說過什麼？

兩極，是他唯一不會動搖的樣貌。

他累了。

幽魂一般地活著，漂泊而無根。

他在哪裡？

哪裡，才是他的家？

他嘆了口氣——

像睡著了一樣，緩緩地，安靜地，吐出一口煙。

『也許，沒有人愛我……但那也好。』

『我會離開。』

『找到屬於我的地方。』

他坐起身，抽出一支煙。

那味道其實很苦，不是什麼解脫——

只是尼古丁裡住著的魔鬼，他擺脫不了的詛咒。

他不懂自己的使命。

不懂自己在這世界的定位。

他不知道自己該怎麼活得「像樣」，怎麼再次被大家看見。

他一向如此：瘋狂、兩極、不羈。

但這一次，他第一次感到了——

恐懼。

不是壓抑、不是憤怒，不是那些他用來偽裝的情緒。

是真正的、徹底的恐懼。

他害怕從來沒有人真正接納過他。

害怕自己根本無法成為一個擁有感情、會思考、有選擇的人。

他害怕自己生來只是一齣戲裡的傀儡、一個沒有命運的角色。

一兩滴眼淚流下。

灼熱，刺痛。

鹹味混濁了煙霧的氣息。

他抬手，輕輕抖了抖煙。

那真的很痛。

是那種心在痛、而身體卻完好無損的疼痛。

流不出血的傷口、無法復原的過往、永遠的傷疤。

命運的鎖鏈在腦海裡閃著——怎麼也揮不走。

但他仍是他。

Gamzee Makara。

信仰小丑的信徒。

神的遺子。

兩極的存在。