#fic fragment?

[cryptic-queer-cryptid]

your knuckles would fit neatly in the spaces between my ribs. you would never throw a punch but i’d beg for that pain if it meant you’d be close to me.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Hey Keith.”

Keith, who is not a twelve year old child, easily ignores Lance’s dramatic flop forward, arms hooked over the back of the couch. He glances out of the corner of his eye and finds Lance already looking at him. He grins when he notices Keith looking. Keith rolls his eyes, not even bothering to try and tamp down his own smile.

“Keith,” Lance says again.

“Mm,” Keith responds.

Lance doesn’t say anything for a moment. Keith can hear his legs kicking. He’s so fucking — he’s so fucking. Ugh. Keith is going to — bite him, or something.

Lance hums, dark eyes tracing over the other people in the room. There’s something Keith can’t name in his expression, something sharp in those deep browns that Keith recognises; the look he gets when he lines up a perfect shot, when he stands grinning in the middle of the training room pointing his broadsword at Keith in challenge, when he leans in close, breaths heavy and teeth clamped lightly on the lobe of his ear. There’s amusement, there; mischief.

“Keith,” Lance says again, face schooled into something prim and serious — but his eyes don’t change. Keith hides a smile. “You need a boyfriend.”

Across the room, Shiro chokes. Pidge’s tablet clatters to the floor. Hunk’s jaw drops. Allura’s hand claps over her mouth. Coran, a notable outlier, watches them with a knowing smile.

Keith, suddenly, gets the game.

Like any of their planned missions, Keith plays along. He schools his face into something casual and unbothered, looking to the side with a shrug.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’m into.”

Some kind of deranged groaning noise eeks its way out of Shiro’s throat. Hunk appears to be praying for Lance’s soul. Keith is, suddenly, more amused than he’s ever been in his life.

“Oh?”

The corner of Lance’s mouth twitches. Keith’s hand matches it, struck with the urge to press his thumb to his cupid’s bow.

“Mhm. He’s cute, but…very dumb.”

A strangled garb of a sentence comes from Pidge. She reaches out like she wants to pinch Lance’s mouth with secondhand mortification. The twitching of Lance’s mouth gets faster.

“No way!” he exclaims, comically surprised look on his face. “What’s his name?”

Coran snorts. Keith looks over at him, unable to hold back his smirk any longer.

“…Lance.”

Lance gasps. So does the rest of the room.

“He’s got the same name as me?” He presses his hand to his chest, a ridiculous caricature, now, mouth dropped exaggeratedly wide. “Nice!”

“For fuck’s sake!” Hunk curses. Shiro wheezes and falls to the floor. He twitches a little. Something must be going around. Coran laughs out loud.

Keith grins, wide and ridiculous and showing his teeth. Lance meets his smile, equally as unrestrained, and this isn’t how they talked about doing this but it’s a thousand times more fun and a million times funnier.

Keith looks away, making eye contact with Allura and winking. She looks at him like he has four heads.

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. “He’s real cute. Curly hair, big brown eyes. One of those pretty boys.”

Lance scoffs. “Bet he’s ditzy, then.”

“Oh, a little. I love him, though. He makes me laugh.”

Lance does some dorky little half flip move, rolling over the back of the couch and landing with his head sprawled on Keith’s lap, grinning up at him.

“Does he?”

Keith hums, reaching down to run his fingers over Lance’s cheekbones, tracing the bump of his nose. “Yep.”

“Ugh. He sounds like the worst. You have garbage taste.”

“I dunno. I really, really love him.” He leans in close. His hair flips into Lance’s face, making his nose wrinkle. Keith laughs. “He makes me happy.”

“What the fuck is going on,” Shiro croaks.

Pidge nods frantically. “We’re in a mirror realm, we gotta be, something’s not —”

“You should date me instead,” Lance says. There’s a question in his eyes; a challenge.

They say, are we ready?

And Keith responds by brushing the hair out of his face, cupping his cheeks, and kissing him.

“About time,” Coran says.

Keith smiles, and kisses him harder.

———

based on this post

[layraket]

Day 8 - Sleep Deprivation

Character(s): Four (LU)

Words: 1258

Summary: He doesn’t know what a normal sleep schedule is pls someone knock him out

Whump scale: 1 (see the full scale here)

Warning: Sleep disorders

This is kind of related with this post btw

Part 2 in Day 13

-

Not sleeping was a normal thing for him at this point. Since his first adventure staying up to keep going was almost daily, with only a small break when he couldn’t any more.

His grandpa has scolded him more than once for staying up too late at the forge, forcing him to stay at his room. At least the windows were never locked.

When his second adventure happened, sleeping become something optional.

His curiosity kept him awake during whole nights to continue an interesting book, his energy pleading him to practice with his sword, his heart aching for past memories, and his gut telling him to check if there weren’t any monster attacks around.

It was tiring after a certain point.

Since he joined the chain it was getting easier to sleep, the constant exercise being a big help for him to fall asleep during a full night. When it wasn’t enough, he would always ask to take a shift to keep guard and try to burn all the extra energy.

It worked, the first months.

After a while it suddenly became more and more difficult to sleep. It was after a fight with some weird wizzrobes that everything went down.

Four was hit by one of their spells, gladly it didn’t show any effects during the fight. They won and made camp as usual.

He took first shift, after all he didn’t feel like he could sleep easily tonight.

He called for Legend to take the second shift and went to his bedroll to try and fall asleep. He really tried, and failed.

When he realized it was already morning, the sun coming up in the horizon and light falling on the small clearing they were resting in.

Time was on last shift, and to not worry him he pretended to wake up from a really deep sleep. A whole night restless, it wasn’t new.

The next time he decided to not take any shifts, maybe that made his brain more alert than usual.

‘As usual’ do you mean us or your own mind? Both.

It wasn’t surprise that it didn’t work, another night without getting any sleep. He could keep the act up, it wasn’t hard to pretend being completely alert and no tired at all.

Yeah, the first three days.

When at first it didn’t matter a lot to him, now he was starting to feel the side effects of no resting. His body was feeling more and more heavy, his thoughts were less well-structured and an hour felt like a whole day.

He made a good job hiding it though, nobody has asked him about his tired face or the bags under his eyes yet.

“Hey Four, have a moment?”

Great.

“Yeah vet?” If he was lucky it was just to give some maintenance to his sword and shield, then he could go and try to take a nap without everyone looking.

It looks like that wasn’t the answer Legend wanted to hear, looking him up and down. “Just wanted to ask, how are you doing in your training?” This felt like a trick question, a very hard one.

“Ah, good, Sky is teaching me some movements and to react quick, very good teacher.” The last time he trained with the skyloftian he fell on his face, but Legend didn’t need to know that.

“Uh-huh” Maybe he squinted, maybe he blinked very slowly, he doesn’t know. “What about a friendly match of sparring then? Let’s see how much have you improved.” There was the characteristic smile from their vet, playful and challenging.

It was lacking something, huh. Weird.

“Sure, why not?” I’ll give five reasons why not, first of all– A friendly match could wake him up enough for the rest of the day.

They asked Wild for a borrowed sword for Legend and went to their places. They made camp in a big clearing, giving them enough space to not interfere with anyone doing their own thing.  

They both charged to each other, Four’s legs feeling heavier than they should be with each step he gave. With a clank their swords clashed, coming with fast swings trying to hit their opponent.

Slowly the smith’s movements started to get slower and clumsier, now with him just hitting anywhere he could and the vet blocking it without problem.

This game kept going a while, until Legend throwed his sword away and got a clean hit on Four’s neck.

He fell to the floor, his body collapsing and the impact being mitigated by the soft grass.

“That-That wasn’t fair!” How dare him call for a friendly match and suddenly use his bare hands?! But you had done it a lot of times before– The injustice!

Again, he felt like this answer didn’t make the vet content. Or better, him talking didn’t made him happy.

“You should be knocked out by now. How are you even awake.” The look in his eyes was of pure confusion, or Four thinks, its hard to tell when his vision was blurry.

“What do you mean he’s still awake?!” That was Wild, sweet chaotic Wild. What were they talking about. “It was a clean hit! We’ve tried everything!”

“Can someone explain?” The smith asked, slowly moving to get up, but his body didn’t have the strength to do so. Well, the grass wasn’t that uncomfortable at the end.

The two heroes looked at each other in a silent conversation, nobody can have any context in this group apparently.

Wild was the first one to talk “Legend noticed how you sometimes took longer shifts and haven’t been sleeping, so we’ve been trying to get you to have some more rest.”

“It didn’t work anymore, though” There was a hint of frustration in his voice, how long have been they doing this? “Since that battle with the wizzrobes nothing seemed to make effect anymore.” 

“We tried tea, making you work a little more with weapons so you get more tired to sleep, and knocking you out.” Wild scratched the back of his head, now thinking about why that last one wasn’t a very good idea. “Now I don’t even know what else to do.”

Huh, that was sweet from them. “Thanks guys, but I’m good, don’t worry.”

“We worry.” Legend dead-paned. “I’ve seen you, fully awake when the sun is still coming out. That was away from okay.”

“Is not that bad– “

“Four. It’s been a week like that. A whole week.”

“You’re gonna get killed for that” The champion was searching for something on his slate “Sleep deprivation isn’t a game, and you shouldn’t threat it like that.”

He couldn’t argue at that, but it was easier said than done. He also tried ways to sleep during this whole time; counting minish, reading a really boring book, making himself a cocoon with his blankets. Nothing worked!

Wild tapped his arm to gain his attention, had he zoned out? “When I don’t get to sleep, I hold this as a nightlight.”

He was passed a small crystal, it looked interesting, its light was soft and with a soft hint of yellow.

“It’s a Star Fragment, they fall from the sky in my Hyrule and are a little rare. You can have this one, maybe it helps you with getting some sleep…”

When touching the crystal, its light seemed to be brighter, making some weight fall from him that he wasn’t aware he had.

The last thing he saw before falling unconscious was his brothers calling for him, and some weird dark smoke.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride Screenshots Chapters 1 to 6

“Mmm.” He hummed, looking at her red eyes and full lips, feeling a strange kind of intimacy now that he could feel her veins, her blood, dragon’s blood, pulsing under her bare skin.

Their shared heritage.

His seed was stronger than Daemon’s, he thought with a confidence bordering on vanity.

Their children would have his white hair.

She shuddered as he leaned over her suddenly, his hands on both sides of her head resting on the pillow, strands of his long hair brushing her face.

“Is there really no desire for revenge in you? To prove him wrong by rejecting you? Don’t you want him to curse the day he left you?” He asked, looking her straight in the eye.

Prince Aemond gave her one sharp glance before mounting his beautiful brown steed, nodding his head for her to do the same. She therefore climbed with lightness and ease onto the black mare standing just beside him and set off at a gallop after him.

She thought with amusement, feeling the wind in her hair, the front strands of which she had braided back, as he did, that she could easily try to escape with such a well-rested horse at her side, knowing her riding skills.

For the first time, however, she wondered why she should return there?

What kind of life awaited her in Runestone?

He didn’t understand what he was doing there – didn’t understand why he was looking at them from afar like a shadow, why he was watching as his hands wandered over her cheeks and neck, as his lips placed soft, butterfly kisses on her lips.

“Do it slowly,” she said, and he obeyed, not caring too much about his presence, eager to please her and to experience fulfilment himself.

He saw her flinch as his hand travelled to her breasts under the thin material of her gown, her fingers tightening on his wrist.

She bit her lower lip, pacing around her room, suddenly getting an idea that was extremely dangerous.

Her cousin was interested in women – this she knew for sure – and after being humiliated by his brother in front of everyone gathered he would certainly not return to the brothel to his lover, whoever she was.

From what she understood, this woman was older than him, giving him fulfilment not only physically, but also purely childlike.

She knew he was weak, but now she also had the certainty that he was miserable.

They climbed one of the peaks, from which they could see clearly in the distance the lying silhouette of Vhagar, the fields, hills and valleys, but not a trace of the dragon. Her cousin pressed his lips together, frustrated.

He thought this would be easier, and the dragon would come to them on its own, she thought with a sneer, but she dared not provoke him, knowing that they were both tired.

“We must turn back. It will be dark soon. We will start tomorrow before sunrise, moving in the opposite direction.” He ordered and she nodded, following obediently behind him, looking around at the familiar landscapes.

She had an advantage over him here, she thought.

She knew these places, she knew these people.

So why didn’t she feel the need to run away?

They both fell to the ground as a large, dark dragon flew over their heads, landing in a valley not far away, burning several sheep beforehand that had tried to flee from it in terror.

They started to run in that direction, clambering down the stones, stopping only when the dragon’s head turned towards them, concerned.

He looked at her and swallowed hard, watching with some kind of admiration as she moved towards the creature, several times her own size, without any hesitation.

A male dragon the size of Meleys, he thought with satisfaction.

He could fight and make a difference, protecting him and Vhagar.

“Lēkia.” He said, as if he had done something definitive, a quiet moan breaking from her throat as his hand closed over her womanhood. “Older brother.”

“Lēkia.” She moaned and whimpered as his lips pressed against hers in an aggressive, loud, sticky kiss full of their saliva and panting, her palm touching his scarred cheek, drawing a low murmur of delight from his throat.

She touched him.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, gods, it’s late.”

It’s the movement rather than the words that draw Nico’s attention; Will has been muttering to himself for hours. He usually does. It’s odd for him to stay quiet.

“Hm?”

“Curfew,” Will says shortly, strained as he flips upside down to store his book with the others under his bed. Nico grips his ankle, grinning, the dozens of times his boyfriend has landed sprawled on the creaky floorboards flashing through his mind. (He’s always so whiny after, embarrassment making his cheeks flush. Sometimes Nico just wants to — squeeze him. He’s such a klutz.)

“I could stay here,” Nico offers once he’s upright again. He tries for his most casual expression, leaning back onto Will’s pillows like it’s nothing, no big deal. He hears Austin’s snickering from the bottom bunk and subtly stretches down to kick him in the shoulder. “Might be easier.”

“I’ll walk you to your cabin. C’mon.”

Nico sighs, flipping his DS shut and climbing down ladder after him. Austin sticks his tongue out as Nico passes, so Nico flicks him on the head. Will watches them with a roll of his eyes.

“Teenagers,” he huffs.

Nico slips his hand in his. “You are fifteen years old.”

“In body. In spirit I am leagues beyond you. Sagacious. Wise. Enlightened. Uh —”

“Full of himself?” Nico offers. “Pigheaded? Conceited, perhaps.”

Will pouts. Nico laughs, slowing them down and leaning up to kiss it. He’s warm, even in the cool, late summer night, and he shudders when Nico slides his hand in his hair. His palms rest — hesitantly, as they always do, waiting for Nico’s hum of approval, waiting for him to set the pace — on his hips, fingers curling.

“Harpies,” Will mumbles against his lips. “Bad.”

“They’re afraid of me,” Nico dismisses. (It’s true. They are. It’s one of the many perks of being the son of Hades, he supposes, along with his knack for finding dark, private corners to drag Will into.)

“Yeah, but —”

“William. Può esso. Kiss me, before I lose my mind.”

He can feel Will’s smile against his mouth, feel his willpower — ha — dissolving.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.”

As much as Will indulges Nico’s bossiness, grinning and saluting and letting Nico get away with things no one else would even push, he’s still Will. And after a few more minutes of Nico pushing the envelope, he sighs, pulling away, ignoring Nico’s huff and rolled eyes.

“C’mon,” he says softly.

Nico lets him tug them down the path to the Hades cabin, only dragging his feet a little bit. He resists the urge to sigh again — he doesn’t want Will getting guilty. He doesn’t actually mind Will’s whole thing about meeting curfew every night, despite his complete disregard for almost every other camp rule. He knows it has something to do with the example he tries so hard to set for his siblings, and besides — on nights where Nico really can’t sleep by himself, Will doesn’t hesitate. If he showed up pounding on the door of the Apollo cabin in two hours, wide eyed and wired, Will would have him ushered inside and layered in his lavender wash-scented blankets in minutes.

“Hey,” Will murmurs, sliding his hand down Nico’s arms to rest on his wrists, squeezing gently. “I love you.”

Nico smiles tiredly. “And I you, tesoro.”

He stands on his tiptoes and presses a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of Will’s mouth, smiling at his shiver, squeezing his hands twice before walking through the heavy stone doors. He watches out the one-way windows as Will lingers, grinning, hand pressed to the spot Nico kissed, before turning back and practically skipping to his own cabin.

Nico shakes his head. “Dweeb.”

His own smile makes his cheeks ache.

[aw-shit-my-ulna]

the urge to rewatch torchwood is battling with the pain of actually rewatching torchwood

[heliotrope155]

Cas always manages to carry and conceal a weird assortment of stuff in his coat (a magic trick that endlessly amuses Dean) and eventually Dean starts groping Cas as he rummages through the coat (Cas lets him, knowing that Dean's going to find nothing) and Sam's horrified by whatever bizarre foreplay he's watching and irritatedly informs them that he's getting another room.

[ecstarry]

from having a ghost in my bed by @fromagony

[schrano]

"Siffrin? Are you alright, bud?"

Fanart of Siffrin from @cinnamin-is-a-star's Villain Siffrin AU fanfiction To Extend Our Reach to the Stars Above Chapter 11.

[tezzbot]

And what if it was JD who came back after Branch turned grey and then raised him on the road what then

[autisticlancemcclain]

“The Exoxins are very…” Coran purses his lips, searching for the word. “Particular, let’s say.”

Hunk cocks his head. “In what way?”

“They’re quite fixated on personal appearances. They have been known to refuse alliances in the past when diplomats don’t meet their… aesthetic expectations.”

Before Keith can make a slightly mean joke about keeping Shiro on the castle, then (it’s been too long since he has been humbled), Lance snorts. Without bothering to look up from his doodling, half slumped over his station on the bridge, he says, “Well, we better send Keefers. Only way we’ll get a guaranteed alliance.”

“Okay, asshole, real funn — wait.” Keith blinks. That’s not the insult he thought it was. “Did you just — are you flirting with me?”

Lance flicks brown eyes up to meet his, eyebrows raised, amused smirk on his face. “Have been for a year now, thanks for noticing.”

Keith’s jaw drops. He feels a blush climbing up his neck like he’s a fuckin’ kettle, boiling from the bottom up, because what.

“What.”

“Keith.” The rampant redness on Keith’s face must give Lance pause, because he finally turns his whole attention towards him, straightening up from his seat and facing him head on. “I thought you were just ignoring me. You’re telling me your dumb ass has just been — what, completely oblivious to it?”

“I’m not obvious,” Keith argues, strained. He’s well aware of the snickering behind him and chooses to ignore it. “Usually your flirting is horrible and obnoxious and gets you rightfully punched, so excuse me for not noticing.” He waits a beat, and then tacks on, “Or tied to a tree.”

He’s gratified to see Lance’s smug demeanour crack at the mention of the Nyma incident.

“That was four years ago, dipstick. I was seventeen. It doesn’t take away from the fact that you are so thick headed that you are incapable of taking a hint. Did you think I kept finding reasons to be shirtless around you for fun?”

Keith sputters. He had noticed that Lance was shirtless around him an awful lot, but in his defence he was putting his braincells more towards memorizing a broad back and a glittering belly piercing rather than, like, puzzling out why the fuck Lance wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“I thought you were — hot, or something!”

Lance grins wolfishly. “You think I’m hot?”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Is that what you want to see?”

Keith makes a hoarse screeching noise in the back of his throat. It is echoed behind him, by all of his friends, actually, but for entirely different reasons, and he hates them all and they are all written out of his will.

Lance slowly stands from his seat, soundlessly stalking over to where Keith stands, leaning against a wall. Keith considers braining himself against a hard surface so he does not half to deal with Lance stupid sexy leer and sparkling eyes et cetera.

“‘Cause if it is,” Lance murmurs, placing a hand next to Keith’s head and leaning in close, “all you had to do was ask, baby.”

“I am going to kill you with fire,” Keith croaks.

Lance chuckles. “Sure, caliente.” He kisses Keith’s cheek and saunters back to his chair. Keith considers asking his lions to help him change his bayard into an anvil and chucking it at Lance’s face. It does not help his situation.

“Well,” Coran says awkwardly, after what can only be several minutes of charged silence. “the good news is that if we send you both that alliance is as good as guaranteed.”

[vericey]

"They’re fashionable, Furina had told him weeks before, surrounded by a cloud of blue silk in the tailor’s fitting-room. At Neuvillette’s shoulder, a seamstress had hovered, breathing uncomfortably close to the place where his gills should be as she measured the circumference of his neck. Besides, with your height, a little bit of a heel will have everyone bowing down before you even have to speak. Humans respond better to orders from tall people.

Neuvillette had looked at Fontaine’s Archon, barely over five feet even in her own high heels, and sighed. She had claimed her presence was necessary for the tailoring of his official robes, and her advice sorely needed for the garments underneath, but he suspects she had primarily been motivated by the complimentary cake and sparkling wine that the shop’s owner had foisted on her the minute she stepped through the door. She had licked a dab of cream from her thumb and glared at him until he acquiesced, and allowed himself to be poured into the odd boots brought forth by a shop assistant."

[velvetwyrms]

An anatomical/‘realistic’ drawing of Alien!Gaara from my AU. (POV you’re Lee drooling up at him.)

Go and read the fic here!!

Gaara just has a pretty average body type in the fic. Strong shoulders, back & chest from carrying things all day across long distances, a little lanky, a bit of a softer belly from resting when he can and eating well to keep up energy.

This took me 3 hours and I’m really happy with it! 🥰

[Please reblog to stop my hours of hard work from dying in your likes. This let’s others enjoy it and motivates me to write/draw more of this AU! <3]

[vaguely-concerned]

Garashir ficlet, PG, context is that Garak is about to go do… Something on his own (specifics very much ????? but probably something foolhardy and secretive and doomed ala Improbable Cause) and Julian is Not Having It this time. Probably fits into some of the later seasons vibes-wise. 

Julian said tightly: “My Kardasi might still need some work, but — ”

“Oh, no at all, considering how recently you started your studies your efforts are downright impressive, if, ah — charmingly archaic at times. If that’s to be laid at anyone’s feet it should be mine, probably, remind me to recommend you something written within the last few centuries sometime soon.” 

Giving this attempt at diversion exactly as much consideration as it deserved, Julian completely ignored him and finished his own line of thought: “ — but at this point I have a veritable doctorate in Garakese. There’s something you’re not telling me.” 

“Many things, I’m sure. If I’d known you had any interest in the optimal soil composition in which to grow Lovalan roses, I would have gladly shared my insight. All you had to do is ask, my dear. In the spirit of cross-cultural knowledge exchange, I always stand ready to chip in and do my par — ”

“Elim.” 

That made Garak blink, just that split second too long, even as his face remained perfectly still and smiling around it. It was subtle enough that an unaugmented eye might not have caught it, but Julian’s did.

No longer bothering to hide his own desperation, Julian pressed on: “Elim, please. You’ve got me worried with this. I want to help in any way I can, and — and I don’t like to think about what might happen if I can’t.”

There was a moment of silence between them in which Julian could hear his own quickened breathing too loudly in his ears. 

“That’s… characteristically kind of you, Doctor,” Garak said eventually, voice slightly hushed, like someone trying not to wake a sleeping child in another room. “But there is nothing to worry about. Really.” 

“Brush me off if you really feel like you have to, but please, at least do me the courtesy of not going out of your way to insult my intelligence while you’re at it,” Julian snapped. “How stupid do you think I am? How do you expect me to just close my eyes and sit back like nothing’s wrong while you — ”

Garak sighed. “You’re right, that was unworthy of me. Please, put it down to old habit, not a lack of respect. Very well, then let me rephrase what I was trying to say slightly, in order to be more precise — whatever might or might not be going on, there’s absolutely nothing you can do, and I really would rather you stayed out of it. Knowing you to be safely out of the line of fire would provide me with infinitely more comfort and utility than anything you could actively do to help. Which, again, is nothing.”

“But — ”

“Julian. Please.” 

Julian would have been thrown less off-balance if Garak had punched him square in the jaw. “Oh, that’s a dirty trick,” he said, unsteadily. 

“And here I thought ‘turnabout is fair play’ was a guiding Human principle,” Garak said, and his tone was light but his eyes were soft and very sad. “I see I have been misinformed.”    

The idea that Julian’s initial exposure to the Cardassian language leaves him speaking it like the equivalent of a Regency era novel or something to contemporary Cardassian ears in the beginning is a headcanon that is so dear to me  

[ecstarry]

from having a ghost in my bed by @fromagony

[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