= Be Gamzee

It's a motherfucking good day, full of miracles, but then, every day is full of miracles. And you are a vendor of miracles. You are wheeling your best bro Tavros to your usual spot in front of the Quick Stop and RST Video Store.

You move like you've got music in your head at all times. You're about seven feet tall and you paint your face in a clown pattern. Your horns corkscrew up out of your wild black hair.
Sometimes you're disappointed that people find you so motherfucking intimidating. You're a sweet guy. You love people, both troll and human. They're all miracles.

So many people, man, so many brothers to introduce to the miracle of organic happiness.

The sopor slime pies have been pretty good to you, but the human weed stuff is amazing, man. Amazing and sacred, some of the humans say. You can totally dig that, and so can your wheeled friend Tavros.

You think he might be more into it than you, if that's possible. After all, it takes away the pain, and not even sopor slime does that for him. Morphine does, but the humans won't sell that to you and it's expensive to buy on the street. E does things to Tavros that terrify both of them. But not weed, man. It makes Tavros all loose and relaxed. And stops the pain. Anything's worth stopping that pain.

Tavros' accident had done something for him, clarified things, made him realize what the brown-blooded troll was to him. Once that was clear, everything else became clear too. He spent every moment he could beside him, made sure he was safe and being taken care of. There were very few high-blooded trolls left, and the status still carried some clout. He spent every dime he had, and some he didn't have. It didn't matter. He had pull with the few troll doctors there were. He didn't have to threaten very often.

He soon found that it was better to sleep at the hospital too, because there were still some trolls who thought culling the sick was better than treating them.

And now they lived together and as long as Gamzee was there, no one was going to hassle Tavros. And Tavros didn't mind cultivating pot, or selling it, and he turned out to be a pretty good partner in the business.

Tavros is good at keeping track of money, and so you hand it all to him when you get it. He shoves it in his pants and sits on it, or sticks it in his boot. It doesn't even seem like he looks at the amount, but he knows precisely how much you have at the end of the day. And even in a wheelchair, those horns are motherfucking intimidating.

You lean against the wall after parking your friend's chair and pulling the brake. "Motherfucking miracles, man." You press the button on your transportable music broadcasting device and bob your head to the mad beats.

==Be Tavros

You grin at your best friend, your matesprit. You don't know what you'd do without him.

At seven sweeps, you'd gotten into a bad car accident. Your friend Vriska had stolen a car and asked you to go joyriding. You'd always had a difficult time refusing Vriska. You didn't know she was drunk off her ass.

When she got into a high speed chase with the human police, when she went the wrong way down a divided highway, when the car flipped and rolled and landed on a guardrail, sending said guardrail forcefully across your waistline, the people who cut you out of the mangled car weren't at all sure you'd make it. You had to be air-lifted to a trauma center with specialized troll doctors, and you coded twice along the way.

You awoke in excruciating pain, and paralyzed from the waist down. Your lusus was there, and he looked so sad that he couldn't do anything for you, and Vriska was brought in in handcuffs to look at you, to see what she had done. You looked up at her, and she looked down at you and a slow smile crossed her face, seeming almost happy about what she'd done to you. And then you heard the most terrifying thing in your life: Gamzee's roar.

You'd never seen your friend like that: His hair was wild, his shoulders hunched forward, teeth bared: predatory. He advanced on Vriska, and she and the human police with her backed up. Karkat leapt up and stood between the two of them, placing his hands on his moirail's chest. He was good at soothing Gamzee, even though it was much more difficult this time. "Breathe, fuckass. Just breathe. You can't help him if you're culled for slaying her." Gamzee pulled away when she was finally out of his sight, and stayed panting and snarling at the door for a little while after, his claws indenting the metal door frame, Karkat by his side, just patting his shoulder gently. And then his shoulders sagged, and he looked at you with his eyes so soft and sad. He sat next to you and held your hand and hardly ever left your side the whole time you were in the hospital. Your lusus was in no condition to help care for you, so Gamzee came to live with you.

When the pain became too much, and you couldn't get the right painkillers, and it seemed like no one could help, Gamzee helped you. He started you with sopor slime, which worked for a while. But where it calmed Gamzee, it just made you numb. Listless. For a while, that was enough, just to be out of pain, even if you slept all the time. But it wasn't enough for Gamzee.

He started trying to find something else for you, to take away your pain. He tried everything first, of course, because there was no way he was using Tavros as an experimental small round furbeast.

Anything he found that worked on him, he tried on Tavros.

Ironically enough, it was a while before they discovered weed. It worked like a dream, and Gamzee became obsessed with it-growing it, drying it, finding the best ways to smoke it.

You can't repay him enough, really. It would be enough just to be his matesprit, but he makes it seem like so much more than just filling a quadrant. The little things you do for him surely can't be enough, but he seems satisfied.

You don't know what you'd do without him. You join in on the head bobbing to the beat that Gamzee's doing, though with your huge horns, it tends to be a little slower...