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Summary
Gamzee's got TWO MOTHERFUCKING HALVES. It's real hard to tell what's going to happen sometimes. It's real hard and no one understands.
HE'S GOT TWO HALVES.
And no one to fill in as a moirail, despite all these lovely, beautiful bodies he's collected. They talk to him and pail with him SURE. But they couldn't be like Karkat. He just can't have a moirail anymore. BUT THAT'S ALL MOTHEFUCKING OK. He doesn't complain. He just fills his other quadrants AS MUCH AS HE CAN when he gets in certain moods.--
Gamzee might not be homicidal anymore, but he's still sober, and his thinkpan is still heavily damaged. This is my interpretation of what all else he gets up to with the bodies he seems to have collected. If necrophilia bothers you, or you can't handle insanity, then turn back, this story is not for you.