#WEEP AT THE SOUND OF THE MUSIC

[st311ar]

(@malikselfindulgence VIOLA)

[definitelynotshouting]

“The universe sings,” Grian said.

He sounds vaguely distant- like he’s speaking from hundreds of blocks away rather than right next to Mumbo.

He turns on his bed, slow halting movements, to face him.

“Did you know?”

Mumbo can only stare.

“…Sings?” He asks. He shifts on his chair.

Grian seems to want to nod, but aborts the motion halfway, and hums instead.

“Yeah. The code. It sings, if you listen close enough,” Grian mumbles.

Mumbo opens his mouth, then closes it again.

Grian exhales a long breath, and his eyes drift close.

“Can you hear it?”

Mumbo watches the way Grian’s chest rises and falls, shallowly, slowly.

He closes his eyes, and strains to hear.

He hears- Tango out in another room of the house, pacing circles around the kitchen. Mumbo can tell it’s Tango by the shuffle in his walk.

He can hear birds outside, twittering. Wind rustling through branches. An animal- a pig, maybe, trotting along some grass.

It’s quite calming really- but he doesn’t hear singing. At least, he doesn’t think he does?

When he opens his eyes again, it’s to Grian staring right at him.

Mumbo exhales in one sharp breath- he didn’t realise he’d stopped breathing- and meets Grian’s gaze.

“Did you mean like, actual singing or- or was that metaphorical? Because I can’t hear anything other than trees, mate,” he says, only half-joking.

Grian huffs a small laugh, and shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s not really singing-singing. It’s music, though. You’ve definitely heard some of it- discs. That’s the easiest way to hear it. But that’s- so few of what’s out there. There’s more music, if you know how to listen for it,” he hums. His eyes close again, and he leans more into the mattress.

Mumbo pauses, and thinks on that for a moment. Music discs, huh? He supposes it seems plausible, that there’d be more music out there.

But then why has he never heard it? Mumbo doesn’t ever recall hearing ‘the code sing’. If it’s tied into music discs, then is it naturally generated? Is hearing it a ‘watcher thing’?

Mumbo glances down at his hands, traces lines of dirt under his fingernails.

He nods, though Grian can’t see it anyway. He makes some vague ‘see you later’ comment he can’t bother to think about, and carefully gets to his feet.

At the doorframe, he peers back.

Grian lies there, breathing steadily.

Mumbo turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

////

headcanon that the minecraft soundtrack can be heard in the code, but only if you're 'in harmony' with it. cue other headcanon of watchers being very aware of the code

HEY ANON. ANON. I ADORE THIS HOLY SHIT I FUCKING LOVE THIS HEADCANON???? The idea that the universe is constantly singing to itself, and you can hear that through the Greater Code if you really carefully listen, is something i lowkey want to canonize SO BADLY holy shit. And this is such a lovely snippet too, im always such a sucker for deeply layered conversations like this.... i adore how youve given so much depth to the sentence "the universe sings" and the implications of how and why Grian is hearing it so much right now. [THROWS UP BLOOD] IM OBSESSED.......

Also this Mumbo dialogue especially is on point youve done such a good job of capturing his little speech patterns :] STUNNING JOB ANON IM SO FLATTERED U WROTE THIS!!!!! I really think i might canonize this concept just for how absolutely amazing it is, im utterly obsessed with it

[defiledtomb]

sweet mother give me strength to finish this chapter tonight and not spend 3hrs looking for the perfect soundtrack

[monstersinthecosmos]

I truly don't say this lightly but this song moves me so much every time I listen to it I feel like I've been through a multiple orgasm gauntlet and I'm left just wrung dry and completely shook, hollow and speechless and used up, and my legs are shaky and I don't know what year it is.

[eebie]

oh what the fucking hell

[payidaresque]

Georg x Maria (The Sound of Music, 1965) Aziz x Efnan (Aziz, 2021—2022)

[kfedup]

Fun/joy

i procured tickets to go see Peter Gabriel (nosebleed stadium seats) in July and lawn seats at Blossom to see Duran Duran. 

That’s a good start to letting myself have fun and feel joy, yeah? 

Yeah. 

I’ve never seen either of these acts, and Peter Gabriel has been such an important soundtrack to my life for so long. I return to Us and So and The Last Temptation of Christ and Growing Up Live during growth phases. He’s truly a tour guide of the deep. I listened to US the other day for the first time since I moved out - holy fuck it’s 9 years in December. That album hits very different this side of two divorces, let me tell you. 

I’m also toying with driving the two hours to Pittsburgh by myself to see Beyoncé’s Renaissance tour. A $250 nosebleed ticket might be crazy, but this album has been my anchor for the last year. Now that I think about it, it’s been my entry point to joy and fun inside my body and I don’t know why I didn’t think of that during therapy. I’mma listen to it again on the dog walk this morning. This album is pure club. I am transported to The Filmore East gay parties in the early 90s where I danced for two days and nights without ceasing in an ocean of beautiful men who were the very definition of joy expressed with abandon and trust in the middle of a raging war in NYC. 

Maybe this is how I protest the grind that is life on Earth in America. Even if it is furthering capitalism. At least it’s for the sake of art and joy. 

Oh, shit... and two days before Peter Gabriel, I could see Nick Cave at Playhouse Square. And Loreena Mckennitt at the Goodyear in Akron in October. And Atmosphere in Pittsburgh. 

Fuck it, I’m not replacing the sewer line to my house until next year - or maybe I’m selling before I even need to do it. 

This bitch is getting her joy. 

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[chaosgenasi]

obsessed with how Resolve is filled with the background noises of the apartment and the city outside until Sherman says, "Hang on. There's someone outside the door," which prompts that iconic guitar to creep in, immediately signaling who it is

[thedevotionaltour]

thinking about daredevil yellow again im not. going to make it Guys.

[ghostblogging]

speaking of shoujo

hrt would have fixed her

[lolly-dolli]

I was a little four-year-old kid in my dad's old car with the crank-windows and no AC, on my way back from one grandma's house to the other during the summer that we were between houses and he'd play Bat Outta Hell || and the "Wasted Youth" monologue would come on about halfway through and it used to scare the shit out of me but I'd just sit there, like, enthralled by some emotion I didn't know yet.

But as an adult in my mid twenties I can listen to people making guitars sound like motorcycles ripping through Hell or human screams or Miku or any number of things that sound almost supernatural when juxtaposed against the instrument that produced them and I just Get It.

And I'm baking a cake here, not quite seven-into-July, far too hot for my liking and sweet flinging off me as I dance around the kitchen to "Everything Louder than Everything Else," and "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)" and all the other songs on the album I knew the melodies to but not the names for until a few years back. My father's cropped his hair short for the past ten or so years and mine, up in a bun because lord knows my I'm sticky with sweat as it is, falls past where his used to if it's let loose. My stepmother stops by with her friend to paint the walls upstairs eggshell-white and I regret not taking him up on his offer to put the AC into the living room (the sills are still not-yet-eggshell cream and need sanding) and in two weeks' time I'll be at my grandmother's, a half-summer this time, spent searching for jobs and making the room my parents stayed in my-own-for-a-bit between houses and learning Fusion 360 instead of petting bees and gorging on wild raspberries but still spinning around in flowery dresses to Meatloaf until I get dizzy when I find the time.

My father can't speak so clearly sometimes anymore - the stroke last year took part of his speech and he's still relearning words that aren't curses, but his hands are sketching again and his paintings will decorate my room when I leave and he still sings "Everything Louder than Everything Else" just as clear as ever (slightly slurred where he forgets the words, just like we all do) and despite the fear I'm moving forward and we're both still alive and I can listen to Meatloaf and tear up at the fact that I'm twenty-six when I couldn't see past twenty-five or twenty-two or next month five years and four years and ten-months-ago when the stroke happened.

Despite it all I feel more like myself than I have in maybe seventeen years, late-youth lost to the too-much-lexapro I shouldn't have been prescribed and wasted in bed. Slowly, surely, I'm waking up to the magic of guitar shreds that sound like hellfire in the best way and carrot cake when it's too hot to move and lost-boy-summers at my grandma's and the world being full of light I haven't seen since four-or-five-or-six.

Life isn't perfect, but I'm still alive to see it, and I'm thankful to live in a world where I can Feel music.

[trobeds]

the tears are neverending

[pebblezone]

About to serve absolutely abysmal cunt

[trashpuppyy]

MY HEART... the cat better be ok (and killer as well)

(links to the comics i mention in the tags: cat comic continuation comic)

A pet and a ‘’pet’’

(Dw ab the cat btw, imma provide context soon 👀)