Gamzee Makara, HoNk. :o)

[terminablyCapricious]

HeY, mOtHeRfUcKeRs! I hAvE gOt SoMe WiCkEd ElIxIr To AlL bE sHaRiNg WiTh Ya ToDaY.
AnD sOmE mOtHeRfUcKiN sPeCiAl StArDuSt In ThE fOrM oF tHiS fUcKiN sIcK aPpLiCaTiOn! (o:


PERSONALITY: MaN, i Am OnE cHiLl MoThErFuCkEr. I lOvE tHe MoThErFuCkIn SiMpLe ThInGs, LiKe SlAmMiN' fAyGoS wItH mY fRiEnDs AnD cHiLlIn' WiTh SoMe SlImE pIeS.
I bElIeVe In MiRaClEs, I nEvEr GeT cEaSiNg To Be AmAzEd At AlL tHe MoThErFuCkInG mIrAcLeS lIfE hAs fOr Us... I lIkE tO rAp AbOuT tHe MaGiC mOtHeRfUcKiN mIrAcLeS, iT hElPs Me StAy ChIlL.
SoMeTiMeS, tHoUgH, i GeT tHiS wIeRd FeElInG... lIkE mAyBe ThErE's SoMeThInG wRoNg WiTh BeInG sO cHiLl.
and that's when i start to...
GET MY SICK ANGRY ON...
like as if i were a...
HIGH MOTHERFUCKIN SUBJUGGLATOR!
and sometimes...
SOMETIMES...!
heh heh...
I START TO THINK I SHOULD FUCKING KILL EVERYBODY.
all the motherfuckin unbelievers...
I FEEL LIKE PAINTING THE WICKED PICTURES WITH THEIR BLOOD!
...BuT mAn, ThAt'S nOt CoOl. MoThErFuCkIn PeAcE aNd LoVe ArE wHaT aLl I'm AbOuT. So WhEn ThOsE fUcKiNg AnGrY tHoUgHtS gEt AlL lOuD iN mY hEaD, i JuSt ChIlL wItH sOmE mOtHeRfUcKiNg PiE.
:o)
HoNk.


DESCRIPTION: Gamzee Makara is a tall, skinny troll whose face is perpetually covered in copious quantities of clown-like makeup and a half-asleep, friendly grin.
Long, thin horns extend far from Gamzee's head, but are still partially buried by his wild tangle of black hair that flies every which way.
As a result of his ReAlLy... FuCkInG... cHiLl nature, or perhaps of his abuse of Sopor Slime as a narcotic, Gamzee's hands hang limply at his sides most of the time, and his movements are slow and dreamlike. However, his hands are quick to honk one of his ever-present two wheel device horns or to juggle some plastic clubs.
Gamzee's black shirt bears a purple, loopy sign that is generally associated with the HiGh OrDeR oF sUbJuGgLaToRs, the brutal upper ranks of Her Condescension's empire. His pants are black, with grey polka dots that go even further towards evoking a clown-like appearance, as do his large purple shoes.


HEADCANON: I see Gamzee's personality, when off his sopor slime, as being essentially two people (the two 'mirthful messiahs' as foretold in Subjugglator legend.) One is quiet and cruel, its voice filled with a menacing, self-assured amusement that implies that it'll find your PAIN the most amusing thing. The other is loud, filled with intimidating rage, but laughing with an edge of hysteria. Because anger is a reaction to fear... ; )


INFORMATION ABOUT YOU: I prefer to go by Magikchicken on the internet-- Magik or Chicken for short; I'm 20 years old, and have been involved with writing and roleplaying for at least 12 of those years. ^_^
I'm currently on vacation, but will be back home (western Canada, Timezone GMT-8) by May 23rd, at which point I'll be available for at LEAST a couple of hours each day.
My Skype name is Magikchicken.



CHALLENGE PROMPT: "Write Gamzee during his transition from Sopor!Gamzee to Sober!Gamzee."



RESPONSE: Gamzee leaned tiredly against the cold, hard stone wall of the corridor, shivering a little and nursing a half-empty bottle of Faygo. DaMn, it was freezing out here in the Veil. Or... maybe it was just going so long without a nice piping hot pie that was making him feel so very cold?


"MaN, i CoUlD rEaLlY gO fOr SoMe MoThErFuCkInG pIe RiGhT aBoUt NoW," Gamzee said out loud, his voice cutting into the dreary silence like a knife made of MiRaClEs. He spaced out for a moment, a dreamy smile spreading across his face as he thought about what a miracle it was that sound and silence were... y'know... opposites. That they could chase each other away, but never be in the same place, like two CeLeStIaLlY oRbItInG mOtHeRfUcKeRs.


WoAh...


A niggling thought at the back of his rusted thinkpan brought Gamzee back to the present. MaN, i'M sTiLl FrEeZiNg... AnD, wOw, MoThErFuCk, It'S aLl BeInG sO mOtHeRfUcKiN qUiEt HeRe... He squeezed the two-wheel-device horn hanging at his hip, successfully dispelling the silence once more, but it did nothing to chase away the chill that seemed to have crept into his bones.


He needed someone to talk to.
"MaN, wHy'D i Go AnD lEaVe ThAt ChIlL aS fUcK bUnCh Of TrOlLs SiTtInG aLl CoZy LiKe In ThAt MoThErFuCkIn CoMpUtEr RoOm PlAcE?" he asked himself. "MaYbE i ShOuLd Go BaCk, Or SoMeThInG...?"


But he couldn't go back, said that tiny voice at the back of his head. Not since the BaD mOtHeRfUcKiN tHoUgHtS had started coming back.


Gamzee didn't like the BaD mOtHeRfUcKiN tHoUgHtS. They scared him, but they also intrigued him, and that scared him even more. Usually, a good bit of pie and some Faygo would get rid of them, but he'd run out of pie ingredients a while back— how long exactly, Gamzee didn't know, because time had always been a bit of a hazy concept for him— and he was on his last bottle of Faygo.


He took a swig of the Faygo in question— mmm, grape— and sighed with contentment. But then the silence pressed in once more, and with it came the BaD tHoUgHtS. He honked his horn uneasily, driving the tiny, laughing voices away, but as soon as the last echoes faded, they were back in his head, even louder than before.


don't keep denying who you are, motherfucker, they told him.
YOU'RE A MOTHERFUCKING SUBJUGGLATOR.
those worthless wrigglers don't respect you...
SO WHY NOT SCHOOLFEED THEM SOME MOTHERFUCKING RESPECT?


The BaD mOtHeRfUcKiN tHoUgHtS were always like this, insistent and almost hypnotically alluring at times. Gamzee had always wanted to be a Subjugglator... but now he wasn't so sure. If the BaD mOtHeRfUcKiN tHoUgHtS were his inner Subjugglator, wanted him to do such nasty things to his friends, then maybe he didn't want to be a Subjugglator any more.


oh, come on, motherfucker, began the first voice, the sinisterly amused one that always carried a cruel undertone of threat.
JUST GO WITH THE FLOW, LIKE YOU'RE ALWAYS MOTHERFUCKING SAYING, continued the other, the one that always followed the first, its tones full of uncontrolled rage and hysterical laughter.
it'll be fun... said the quiet voice.
AND YOU'LL FINALLY GET THE RESPECT YOU DESERVE!


Gamzee curled up intp a wriggler-ball, his back against the corridor's wall, his aching head clutched between his hands. He was so scared, and so cold, and it was so quiet... but the silence was loud with the voices talking to him.


they're always being all walking all over you, you poor hopeless motherfucker,
LIKE THEY FUCKING OWN YOUR ASS.
that dave human, he mocks your true motherfuckin believings...
LAUGHS IN YOUR MOTHERFUCKING FACE BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO MUCH OF A WUSS TO EVER DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!
so, when will you all be finally fucking telling them all...
THAT YOU WON'T TAKE THIS MOTHERFUCKING CRAP ANY LONGER?
rise up...
RISE UP, BARD OF MOTHERFUCKING RAGE!!


When the echoes of the shouting voice in his head had faded, Gamzee found himself standing up. He struggled to open his mouth, say anything to deny these BaD, bAd MoThErFuCkInG vOiCeS.
"I... i DoN't WaNnA..." he stuttered, with the greatest effort of will he'd ever exercised in his entire sopor-soaked life. "I dOn'T wAnNa HuRt My FrIeNdS...!"


friends?
YOU HAVE NO MOTHERFUCKING FRIENDS, MOTHERFUCKER!
just the quiet of your rightful subjects, who only ever talk behind your back where you can't hear, saying how gamzee's so motherfucking useless...
JUST THE MOTHERFUCKING COLD OF YOUR HEART, WITH NO PASSION ALL UP IN YOUR HIGHEST OF BLOODS!
there'll be sounds to fill the silence— music, the music of their screams as they rue the day they crossed you...
YOU'LL BE WARM— WARM WITH THE FIRES OF RIGHTEOUS MOTHERFUCKING ANGER!
give in...
GIVE THE MOTHERFUCK IN TO YOUR RAGE!


"GiVe..." Gamzee breathed, his pitiful effort of will finally being washed away by the waves of anger flowing through him. "GiVe In...?"
A cruel, eerie smile slowly spread across his painted face. "give in..."
"GIVE THE MOTHERFUCK IN!"


Warmth suffused his body, and suddenly, he could hear the honking, screaming din of the Dark Carnival where the Mirthful Messiahs drank their wicked elixir and bathed in an endless stream of special stardust made from the bones of their enemies.
It was glorious, all that the voices had said it would be and more. He honked his horn, one tiny, insignificant contribution to the cascade of honks that would crescendo for an eternity until they culminated in the Vast Honk.


Those motherfuckers DARED badmouth HIM behind his back?
"heh heh heh..." Gamzee began to chuckle.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" he laughed hysterically. They would all feel the pain he'd felt every time they'd insulted him, all the times they'd made fun of his appearance and his religion. All the pain he'd kept bottled up like wicked elixir, it would come pouring out on them, and they would scream for mercy...
But there would be none.


No mercy from Gamzee, the bard of motherfuckin RAGE.
It felt sweet. So sweet.


Inside, he was screaming.

~~~~~~~~~~

[melissa.]

Prompt response seems right on, fascinating transition, entertaining to read! We would be glad to see what you could bring to the forum.

Accepted!