In which xeno/inflation/mpreg/egg-laying is taken entirely too seriously, compulsive world building is showcased, and I pretend really hard that Gamzee might ever be a sympathetic character again. Originally found at: http://homesmut.dreamwidth.org/8447.html?thread=39867903

Overhead, light flows across the ceiling, expanding and contracting like a slow pulse matching his own. His eyes are heavy and growing heavier with as indeterminate time passes. The pile of clothes under him shifts, his back arches further to accommodate it, he's drifting, comfortable and pulsing like these little specks of light on the ceiling. Slow and dimmed at first, Gamzee becomes aware of of his hand lying on his stomach.