#they literally just sleep together

[blackboxtheater]

Touch Grass and Dig Your Fingers in the Dirt

Set after Mumbo comes back from the dead in Wild Life and how hard it can be to relax in a world as chaotic as the life series, especially when you are Scarlet Pearl.

“But I like staying up late!”

“No.”

Pearl always forgot how stern Cleo’s teacher voice could be.

“Impulse and Skizz will take watch tonight,” Cleo continued, with a tone that did not invite further discussions. But it was the life series and Pearl wasn’t about to give up the one time a year she let herself snap back.

“Impulse is the only one of us who absolutley shouldn’t be on watch. He’s the one that has to win and he can’t do that if he gets shot on top of the walls.”

“That’s why Skizz is with him.” Cleo’s teacher tone was slipping right into condescension.

“And your lippy zombie is supposed to what? Protect him? He couldn’t kill any of us Cleo, how’s he supposed to help?”

The way Cleo’s eyes narrowed at Pearl for throwing their own words back at them almost made Pearl giggle. Until she remembered she was on her yearly vacation and let her satisfaction bubble up as a slightly off kilter smile.

“I’m trying to give you a night with your undead zombie boyfriend, but if you want me to turn him into a ghost while you pace a hole in the watch tower you can.”

The way Cleo crossed their arms as a definitive period on that sentence knocked the smile right off Pearl’s face.

“Oh. Oh yeah. I mean, yeah that would be great.”

Pearl honest to god hadn’t even thought of that. Sure when Mumbo had erupted out of the ground earlier that morning she’d been excited to see him, but then she was flying and Scar had started killing again and there were more murders to conduct and everything had gone back to the usual chaos. Pearl was so wired on adrenaline during these games she barely slept at all, never mind thinking about where she might be sleeping with. Or who.

“I don’t mean it like that,” Cleo scoffed, nose curling up in disgust. “Don’t be gross in our bunks.”

Pearl hadn’t thought about Cleo’s comment in any way other than literally sleeping, but now that Cleo mentioned the other ways that could be taken, Pearl’s mischievous manic smile returned.

“Gross? Sounds like you’re kink shaming Cleo. And that’s not nice,” Pearl let the edge slip back into her voice as she smiled at Cleo.

“Impulse,” she shouted up to the top of the walls before Cleo could respond. “Where are the leads?”

“They should be in the bottom chest on the left!” Impulse called down before turning back and cocking an eyebrow at her in confusion. “Wait, why are you going out now to get an animal? It’s getting a little dark to-“

“It’s not for an animal but thanks!” She called back, plastering a massive grin across her face as she twirled past Cleo to start digging through their chests in the courtyard.

“I’m warning you Pearl, if you get freaky in our common beds I will-“

“You told me to go sleep with him!” Pearl said, unable to keep the manic giggle out of her voice as she hoisted the stack of leads tangled in her fingers up to Cleo.

“And I’ll do just that!” She shouted back with a final glare from Cleo as she slipped inside the tower.

——————

“Why do you have leads?” Mumbo asked as Pearl finally found him sitting armorless and totally defenseless in one of the tiny bedrooms inside their base.

“Because Cleo doesn’t want us to have loud kinky sex in our base.” Pearl offered, still grinning as she dumped the arm full of leads onto the narrow strip of floor by the bed.

“I also don’t want to have loud, um, you know, sex in your base? With your teammates here?” Mumbo said, nervously looking between the leads and the chaotic glint in Pearl’s eyes.

“So the kinky part is fine?” Pearl pounced on the omission in his comment with a smirk.

“I kind of want to just sleep?”

“Oh sure. After we pretend to be having loud obnoxious-“

“Pearl I was dead this morning,” Mumbo interrupted, taking the single step across the room to her to take her hand.

She watched him thread their fingers together and gently bring their hands to his mouth so he could kiss her knuckles. For the first time since the start of the series, the sincerity of a gesture didn’t give her anything to use as a foundation for a snarky comment or sneaky joke.

“How about we just go to sleep?” Mumbo asked, dropping their intertwined hands back to their waist.

“When you put it like that…” Pearl rolled her eyes, but Mumbo just smiled at her.

He detangled their fingers to slowly reach for her sword.

“Do want help taking your armor off or-“

That got an actual laugh from Pearl. A full blown cackle as she tossed her head back.

The concerned looks Mumbo gave her finally managed to squeeze an explanation out of her once the laughter subsided.

“Take my armor off? In this series? No. Now we know why you die so early I guess. Cause you are so easy to kill at night.”

“But you’re inside your base. With guards. And I’ll be right here too.”

Pearl cocked her head at him, taking in the complete lack of sarcasm in his voice. This wasn’t a joke. He really was asking if she wanted to take her armor off to go to bed.

“And if something happens, I can always act as a human shield. Then Cleo will just bring me back.” He continued, fingers coming to fidget with the side buckle of her chestplate.

He had a reasonable point. It had been a long time since someone did a night raid. And she did have a lot of allies this season.

In the silence, Mumbo’s hands went to work undoing the straps on the armor, losing it until it no longer formed to her body but rested against her like an ill fitting hard shell.

“Can I? It will be more comfortable to sleep without it.”

She didn’t respond, instead just tugging off her crimson hoodie and raising her arms up, letting him pull the chest plate off over her head.

“Put that right by the bed,” she said, watching him start towards the chest in the corner of the room.

“If we get attacked I need it close by. So by the bad rather than in the chest.” Pearl tipped her head toward the bed against the wall.

“Make sense,” Mumbo nodded, resting the breastplate against the end of the bed before ducking into the chest and pulling his own weapons out to lay next to her armor.

By the time he turned back to her, she had already tugged off her armored legging as well, dropping them and her sword in a growing pile with her chestplate. She then dropped to the bed, starting to unlace one boot before Mumbo knelt before her and started unlacing the other. She was just slightly faster getting her boot unlaced, and when she pulled it off, it clattered to the floor below her. With much more care, Mumbo slipped the second boot off her foot, picking up both and setting them right next to the bed.

“See? Isn’t that comfier?” He asked, still kneeling before her.

She had another joke about choosing life over comfort on the tip of her tongue when he just sent her the smallest, most genuine smile.

It was fun to be feral and chaotic when the person she was riffing was responsive to that. Or at least reactive. But Mumbo was never quite like that. He’d never been good at the theatrics and banter of this series. She usually joked that’s why he was so unsuccessful. But right now the earnestness of him asking that question just neutralize her response.

“Yeah. It is comfier.” She finally nodded.

“Good,” he smiled, raising up to his feet. “Now scooch over so I can get in bed.”

Pearl shuffled backwards towards the wall, slipping under the covers as Mumbo climbed in next to her.

The beds were small, and in a world with more resources they would have 2 beds. In Hermitcraft they had 3 pressed together so they could both sleep with all her dogs. But here, with finite sheep and time, Mumbo curled an arm around her, tugging her against his chest in the narrow bed.

“Wait. Light.” Mumbo muttered, and Pearl looked up from his chest as he twisted around just in time to see him flick the switch she hadn’t noticed earlier to send the room into darkness.

“Did you make a redstone light switch?” She almost giggled as he turned back towards her in the darkness.

“Maybe,” he started before she felt his head duck down to nuzzle into her hair. “Okay yes. But you were gone a while and I was just waiting up here so I started working on it.”

“Oh course you did,” she chuckled against his chest, burrowing a little closer to him.

There was something so familiar about that. They were competing to the death in a game where Mumbo had already been killed and resurrected, and he was still fidgeting with redstone the second he’d had to sit still.

“And since you put us in the dark with no armor on, you’re gonna protect me? Is that what you’re gonna do?” She teased, but it was barely above a whisper. They were close enough that she could feel his chest rise and fall with his breathing, so she could finally take the volume down after a day full of shouting and screaming.

She could feel Mumbo chuckle as he snaked an arm around her and tugged her even closer.

“That’s pretty much the plan honestly,” he murmured and belatedly Pearl realized he had positioned her with her back to the wall with a perfect view of the door if she sat up, and with his body in the way to block any attack that came thought.

“You really are trying to protect me,” she curled a hand into the front of his shirt.

“Trying is the key word there. I’m not good at much in these games. But I’m pretty good at dying and I would much rather die protecting you than Cleo,” Mumbo said into the darkness, his hand gently rubbing back and forth along her back.

“Don’t let Cleo hear you say that,” Pearl said, meaning for it to sound like a joke, but the humor not landing alone in the darkness after that admission.

“I think Cleo knows.”

That offer was the kind of sentiment that Pearl knew was true in reality, but in the world of the life series, the alliances and vengeances and drama always came first. Mumbo should have said that he would die for Cleo. He’d spent all day dying for Cleo. But it was nice to remember that there was more than this game for a moment. And in that world, the real world, of course he would try to protect her. Just like she would always protect him when it truly mattered.

She took a deep breath, feeling muscle in her back and shoulders relax that she hadn’t even realized were tensed.

Then she took another breath, closing her eyes and trying to place the faint smell that was curling around her.

“You smell like dirt,” she said, finally recognizing the smell clinging to Mumbo’s skin.

“Side effect of coming back from the graves I suppose,” he offered. “If it’s too bad we can-“

He started to shift away, trying to give her space, but Pearl doubled her grip on his shirt holding him close to her.

“No. It’s nice actually,” said admitted. She took another breath and was flooded with memories of her first season on Hermitcraft, when the smell of dirt and potatoes had clung to Mumbo everywhere he went. She could picture the fields around her base now and the way the smell of earth and life would fill her whole base when she slept with the trap doors open.

“It smells like home,” she mumbled into his chest before her thoughts dissolved into nothing but the darkness of a dreamless sleep.

[casualavocados]

Learn from who? Learn from you?

Chen Bowen as CHEN YI & Chiang Tien as AI DI KISEKI: DEAR TO ME (2023)

[diwtara]

Theres not a big gap between when Zoro heads to bed for the night and when Sanji gets up to start work on the crews breakfast.

So one night on his way to bed Zoro gave the cook a shove to help him wake up.

Just being helpful, he would say if questioned.

And he was helpful on most nights after that.

Maybe sometimes he shoved the cook right off the hamock on his way to his own

Huh, must have forgotten how light and delicate he is, Zoro would grin, watching the blondes blood pressure raise

Sanji cant even shout at him the way he wants to - at least not after the first time, when his yelling woke up the ladies on the ship. (He of course apologized profusely to them, then spent the full day antagonizing Zoro to the best of his considerable abilities)

Now on the days when Sanji wakes up with the floor rising to meet him, all he can do is quietly and furiously make vague gestures promising Zoro bodily harm once the sun is up.

It always leaves Zoro going to sleep with a grin on his face as Sanji stomps out of the boys bunk muttering curses under his breath.

And then maybe one night Zoro is exhausted - cant even summon the energy to make it the three extra steps to his own hammock - so instead he flops down directly onto the cook.

(They argue and wrestle for a few minutes, exhaustion forgotten for the time it takes for Sanji to kick Zoro in the head, give up the fight and extract himself from the bed.

He calls Zoro several choice names before heading out to start the day while Zoro goes to sleep satisfied he got the chance to bug the blonde one last time before going to sleep.)

And maybe he keeps doing it.

Not every night, but sometimes he finds he would rather lay down in an already warm bed, particularly if they are traveling through colder sections of the grandline.

Sometimes he still manages to flip the other man out of the hammock just by jumping into it himself. Knows the blonde will make the day interesting in retaliation. Looks forward to it.

And then maybe at one point, he lays down gently, softly tells the cook its time to get up, and maybe Sanji takes his time opening his eyes, stretching out his legs, enjoying the transition to wakefulness.

Maybe it becomes a thing they do sometimes. Silently enjoying each others company as Sanji wakes up and Zoro drifts to sleep. Enjoying the closeness in a bed not built for two.

Maybe the others have woken up and caught sight of the pair curled up together in the early morning. But they would simply roll over and go back to sleep, leaving the two to their morning ritual.

And if Zoro still shoves Sanji off the hammock sometimes, well, the others are used to waking up to that too

[furiosophie]

[royalarchivist]

Pac: Take care of Ramon, take care of Richas, ok? See you on the other side, big boy.

Fit: [Laughs] Take it easy, big boy. Take it easy, big boy. Actually, nononono– You can't just say "big boy" and then just expect me to not drag you outta here. [Fit tries to lasso Pac] You're coming with me.

Pac: No, I need to leave!

Fit: You're coming with me. You are not dying today! You are not dying today!

Pac: I need to leave, Fit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

Ironmouse: Are you guys like, having sexy time?

Fit: There's homosexual activity going on Mouse, don't worry about us, ok?

Ironmouse: You guys, we don't have time to be gay right now.

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

-

Pac: I'm just here to say goodbye to you, Fit.

Fit: Goodbye? We're not– we're gonna be fine, we're going to get out of here, don't worry.

Aypierre: Yeah, don't worry!

Pac: I know, but like– I will sleep until the end, you know? I will pass through this moment sleeping, man. I won't be able to be awake for the moment.

Fit: [Laughs] You know, it's– I mean, if that's how you wanna go, but– I mean, that- I mean, isn't that bed kind of like.... I don't know, it's–

Pac: No no, I will be staying on the sofa, you know, I will be staying on the sofa.

Fit: Oh the sofa. Ok, that's a nice sofa! Yeah, that is a pretty nice sofa.

Pac: Yeah, it's a nice sofa right? No, yeah– I'm going to stay on the sofa, you know? So, since I will be going Fit... [Pac starts tossing Fit all his items]

Aypierre: [Not paying attention to their conversation] Is that bigger cell? I don't think it's a bigger- biggest one.

Fit: Oh... Thank you Pac, thank you.

Pac: Everything you need to survive, ok?

Fit: Wow.

Aypierre: Wow.

Pac: And if you need this one also, maybe, who knows? [Throws him more items]

Fit: Ohhh, well hey– just take this to remember me by, ok? [Tosses him a photo of himself – the same one Aypierre was carrying all day yesterday]

Pac: [Laughs] Ok, I will sleep holding the picture you know, like this. You know, I will dream about you, Fit. And I hope this is gonna be good dreams. I see you in the other side. Good luck, my friend.

Fit: The other side... Yeah, you know, yeah, we– we– you know? It's been an honor, Pac. It's been an honor, you know?

Pac: Yeah, for me too, you know? Take care of Ramon, take care of Richas, ok?

Fit: Ok.

Pac: See you on the other side, big boy.

Fit: I will sing your praise– Oh yeah, hey– [Laughs] Take it easy, big boy. Take it easy, big boy. Actually, nononono– You can't just say "big boy" and then just expect me to not drag you outta here. You're coming with me.

Pac: No, I need to leave!

Fit: You're coming with me. You are not dying today! You are not dying today!

Pac: I need to leave, Fit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

Fit: Sorry, there's–

Pac: I'm sorry!

Ironmouse: Are you guys like, having sexy time?

Fit: There's homosexual activity going on Mouse, don't worry about us, ok?

Ironmouse: You guys, you guys– we don't have time to be gay right now, come on. There's no time.

Pac: No, there's no time! Oh, goodbye Fit...

Fit: Ok, c'mon, no no no, come on, we got this we got this!

Pac: Goodbye Fit, I'm sorry!

Fit: [Laughs] Oh no...

[wispforever]

do you guys think kakuzu's ever really hard on himself bc of his time in the waterfall and then hidan just unknowingly is himself

bonus under the cut

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

[skitskatdacat63]

Happy birthday to my forty three shades of Fernando 🥳🎉

Let me know which is your fav variant!

Top from left to right: Matador, Nnadopoleon, Aston(obv), Boy King AU, Bond AU

Bottom from left to right: Ferrari, Post Retirement Vegas Magician Fernando, Renault

[bread-wizards]

I think that Orym actually does doubt Imogen, but this isn't a thing that is unique to Imogen. Orym doubts all of them to an extent, because paranoia is something he struggles with (and this is continuously reinforced by the story).

It's not a 'good' thing that he should never get over, nor is it an immoral character flaw that proves he actually hates Imogen. However it's also not something I think he can get over as long as the threat of having to possibly fight his friends exists.

"I have all the faith in the world in you guys, all of you. And I have also spent time thinking how to neutralize each of you."

[kakushigotofanclub]

Sanemi and Obanai have the most important character dynamic in KnY to me right now and I so badly want to write queerplatonic saneoba fic but I feel like my writing style depends so strongly on dialogue that I just can't do it because it would 100% be an unsaid thing. Like I envision their relationship would be something like...

'I hate everyone, but I can tolerate being around you. I might even. I might even LIKE being around you, actually. But there's no way in hell I'm gonna admit that, so we're just gonna pretend it's a coincidence we spend so much time together. We just happen to be in the same place all the time. But I'm not attached to you and I don't get worried about you or anything like that. At all. Ever. That would be stupid, so don't get any wrong ideas (but god just please be careful I don't know what I would do if I lost you.)'

You know. Like cats.

[witchspeka]

I love my girl Miwa but as soon as I read that this image immediately popped up in my head:

[randompiggy]

Marta Eterna 💚

[rhymaes]

another genius element of mxtx protagonists is how one of the love interest always toes the line of potential victimhood Just enough to make you concerned while reading & then you see their interactions with the other love interest & it's like! oh! they're both fucking freaks! i get it now

[raiiny-bay]

sleepy morning with the boys

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

literally the easiest way to make someone care about a character and make them feel well-rounded beyond basic traits like personality, sexuality, ethnicity, etc, is to give them an actual character arc, and it’s shocking how many people do not seem to fully realize this

you cannot just cram a bunch of tropes. tropes are not the main event, they are tools to tell the story you wish to tell. emotional impact comes from the lead up, so you can’t just jump ahead and expect the payoff to work. “I want this character to just ___ already!” but they’re not there yet. that’s where the arc comes in - how do they get there?

and! most importantly, and this is something I really want people to think about when writing - the most important relationship your character should have, always, is with the world and society around them. defining your character purely through their interactions with other characters are, I find, how a lot of female characters end up feeling flat or not engaging with the themes as much as the male characters, and also how queer and non-white characters wind up as devices for other characters’ development instead of being more fleshed out

[feroluce]

“-and that's why I ain't allowed in Pier Point no more!” Boothill throws his head back and cackles, somehow completely comfortable on the bare floor of the archives. He's the very picture of ease, his arms behind his head, his legs bent and crossed.

Dan Heng barely looks up from his notebook, not much surprises him anymore after the first few tales of lawless exploits. “So they really have that many laws and restrictions there.” 

“And prob’ly a few more now that I've been through there! Heck, ya think they named any after me? I'm hopin’ so.” There's so much smug cockiness seeping through his voice Dan Heng could bottle it.

Silence settles in, stretches out. Dan Heng doodles pensive circles in the corner of his page.

He shouldn't ask. It's a private matter. It's none of his business. He of all people should know-

Something pokes his shoe, and when he looks up, Boothill has stretched one arm up to tap metallic fingertips against his foot. “Ain't like ya to hesitate.” With his head tipped back on the tiles and gazing at him upside down, Boothill's hair is out of his face and spooling out all over the floor, offering a rare view of his right side. His right eye is sealed over with a pitch-black patch, stark against his skin. Dan Heng wonders what he looks like behind it. “C'mon, then, out with it. Spill the beans, brother, just say it.”

“What does ‘Boothill’ mean?”

The man blinks at him, the crosshair in his cybernetic left eye flickering. Dan Heng shifts, smooths out his long coat. “I tried to look it up once. It's not in any database as a name...other than your wanted posters.” There's a thread beginning to fray near the hem, he should sew it up. “I couldn't find it anywhere.” 

He nearly takes it back, but- “Heh, ya that curious about me, darlin’?”

Dan Heng quickly levels his face into the most impassive, nonplussed expression he can muster, but Boothill has already turned away, head pillowed on his arms and face once again turned to the ceiling.

“But nah, ya wouldn't. Hah, like they'd allow any record of the language, fudgeheads.” One arm sweeps around blindly until it finds the edge of Boothill's hat, sets it back where it belongs on his head. Dan Heng shuffles around, scoots a little closer, but the brim is pulled too low to see his eyes anymore.

“It's ‘cause it's not a name. It's a noun.” All that's visible of his face is a sharp grin, pulled too tight at the edges.

“It's my people's word for a grave.”

Dan Heng's pencil stops.

“It's the kinda grave fer someone who died with their boots on. If ya catch my drift there.” Boothill's foot starts to bounce. “There was a war, and it got reeeeeal intense, yup. Folks started droppin’ like flies, ‘n’ there was bodies faster'n what we could bury ‘em.” A cooling fan kicks on somewhere. Dan Heng is pretty sure it's not any of the Express equipment.

“We lost some real good people there, real good. Mighty shame.” His hidden Vidyadhara ears detect a quiet metallic click, a whir, pressurized gas. Boothill's next words waft steam from his angry circuits into the air. “When I left, I decided to leave my name there, too. Didn't feel right otherwise. The life I lead now is a whole ‘nother existence.” And then Boothill turns his head, raises his hat, and Dan Heng suddenly feels pinned dead center, caught in that crosshair.

“Ya know what I mean, don'tcha?”

Dan Heng swallows.

Does Boothill know? Who he is and who came before him? There had been that moment in the Penacony Grand Theater, after he activated the Jade Abacus… Dan Heng had tried to shoo him out, keep him from seeing anything, but Boothill has the astounding ability to turn up exactly wherever people are trying to keep him away from.

If he did see, does he actually understand it? Does he know what a High Elder is? Does he know about the sedition of Imbibitor Lunae, the transmutation arcanum, everything Dan Feng had done and Dan Heng was punished for?

He doesn't want to explain it all. Not now. Possibly not ever, truth be told.

And it's not the same as Boothill leaving behind his old identity when whatever event happened that caused him to leave home. Not really. But…

But so far, Boothill has slid so easily into Dan Heng’s routine. His presence never feels like an intrusion. He's already figured out what he can push and when to back down. And even Dan Heng finds himself able to roll with whatever punches Boothill throws with baffling ease. They share too much in their methods and ideologies, and sometimes Dan Heng knows what Boothill will do seemingly before even Boothill himself knows.

“...Tell me about Talia and the Nailscrap Town.” Boothill must know he's avoiding the topic. He must. But the man just throws his head back and cackles, melting easily back into what they had been doing before, as he speaks fondly of a planet that Dan Heng has never visited.

Not today. But.

Dan Heng inches just a little closer, just enough to nudge his foot against a metal leg. Boothill doesn't pull away.

Maybe someday.