[Gamzee always looked at a glass as being half-full.
Miracles were real, they existed, and one day, Tavros will find his Neverland and realize he didn't need a Pupa Pan to show him the way because he is Pupa Pan, he is miracles and magic and all of Gamzee's hope and faith incarnate, and he didn't need a green suit and a silly fucking hat to be so.
Gamzee wishes he could get up, thumb those tears from Tavros's face, wrap his arms around him, tell him everything was going to be okay in the end, how brave you are, Tavbro, how motherfuckin courageous and he's so goddamn proud of you it made his heart ache.
He wishes he could talk him through this. Tell him it's okay, he doesn't want to hurt anyone, he wanted this because it hurt too much to be scared anymore, and Tavros was a better moirail than he would be in this scenario because just the thought of having to do anything of this magnitude to his best bro made his entire body shiver and shake with panic.
But, Gamzee knows better. That's an awful lot of miracles for a dying (it almost felt blissful to admit it to himself) troll to take, and he can't be all up and hogging his Messiahs' generosity.
He breathes, and he prays. He prays for them to take all those miracles he wished for and give them to his Tavbro, ease his mind, soothe his thoughts, shoosh-pap that Rufio bastard into the grave because there's never been a thing Gamzee's hated more than Rufio and all the agony and distress he caused his best friend.
He can't do any of the things he wants to do. So he just looks Tavros in the face, those dull, glassy eyes filled with warmth and pity and a smile on his face like the kind of smile one might give a cherished lover. All tenderness and sweet words swimming just beneath the surface. Words that never need to be said because the bond was strong enough not to need it.
Gamzee says them anyway.]
You'd be motherfucking amazing, Tavbro. Because that's who you are.
B(
Miracles were real, they existed, and one day, Tavros will find his Neverland and realize he didn't need a Pupa Pan to show him the way because he is Pupa Pan, he is miracles and magic and all of Gamzee's hope and faith incarnate, and he didn't need a green suit and a silly fucking hat to be so.
Gamzee wishes he could get up, thumb those tears from Tavros's face, wrap his arms around him, tell him everything was going to be okay in the end, how brave you are, Tavbro, how motherfuckin courageous and he's so goddamn proud of you it made his heart ache.
He wishes he could talk him through this. Tell him it's okay, he doesn't want to hurt anyone, he wanted this because it hurt too much to be scared anymore, and Tavros was a better moirail than he would be in this scenario because just the thought of having to do anything of this magnitude to his best bro made his entire body shiver and shake with panic.
But, Gamzee knows better. That's an awful lot of miracles for a dying (it almost felt blissful to admit it to himself) troll to take, and he can't be all up and hogging his Messiahs' generosity.
He breathes, and he prays. He prays for them to take all those miracles he wished for and give them to his Tavbro, ease his mind, soothe his thoughts, shoosh-pap that Rufio bastard into the grave because there's never been a thing Gamzee's hated more than Rufio and all the agony and distress he caused his best friend.
He can't do any of the things he wants to do. So he just looks Tavros in the face, those dull, glassy eyes filled with warmth and pity and a smile on his face like the kind of smile one might give a cherished lover. All tenderness and sweet words swimming just beneath the surface. Words that never need to be said because the bond was strong enough not to need it.
Gamzee says them anyway.]
You'd be motherfucking amazing, Tavbro. Because that's who you are.
Motherfucking miraculous.