#The Point was a big mood

[the3rddenialist]

Haha, I'm fine

I love her your honour

Also found out about Shaper Damsel and The Point/Seamstress, they're amazing

MORE Slay the Heroine (@slay-the-heroine) BY @tai-janai !!

PS a darker lighting version of The Point/Seamstress below

[aubryjoi]

Just kinda the vibe lately 💦

[shorthaltsjester]

just constantly thinking about percy telling vex that he’d like to think they’re all better than they think they are (except her brother, of course) . constantly thinking about when vex tells percy he’s a good man and he gets awkward and flustered and returns that she’s a good woman and when she gets as awkward and flustered he goes “see. it’s not very nice is it.” percy shouting to ripley that he forgives her and vex carves forgive into the wood of her bow. vex tells percy to take off his mask and percy comes across vex in tears and scrubbing at her armour. god. the campaign starts and percy is making arrows as flirting and getting kisses in return and the campaign ends and exhausted and knowing it won’t be a want that will be fulfilled percy admits he never wants to make another weapon and vex equally exhausted affirms that he’ll never Have to. and god . god . opposites attract is great or whatever but the deliciousness of dynamics where the characters hold up a mirror to one another where they get to shed the burden of self and see someone Like Them as someone good or capable of being better and Falling In Love. and that love being a pathway to them coming to grips with their own image and their own capacity to be better. and that the fact that the person they fall for being someone so Familiar means that they see through each other’s shit. that percy sees that vex has fallen into the trap of Nobility tricking people into thinking that makes them inherently better and giving her the only whitestone title someone has to earn beyond selection or marriage or birth. that vex sees percy forgive ripley and discusses the importance of that choice but reminds him that it’s just as important that he forgive himself.

[spkyart]

I am so normal about them

[napping-sapphic]

really want a girl to hide me in her ridiculously oversized sweatshirt so i can be safe from The Problems™️

[ashipiko]

<3 post sleepover mornings

[hashileio]

i swear im normal about him

[click for better quality]

[chloecherrysip]

all the pain will change into a memory of when we were amazing (mario & luigi-centric post-movie fic, part 2!)

(Part one can be found here!)

(Thanks again to everyone who read the first part and was so sweet about it! Here's the continuation. This is a shorter interlude with Mario and Luigi's family before we get to the main "meat" of the story AKA Mario and Luigi talking on their own in the third part, coming soon. I hope you enjoy, and I appreciate any thoughts/feedback. I will get this uploaded on AO3 as soon as I can as well, if you'd prefer to read over there.)

+

“Hey-o!” 

Things had been so quiet on their long, long, long trek back home that the sudden noise made Mario stiffen as they shuffled through the door, every nerve on high alert for a breathless few seconds. Luigi, who had practically sleepwalked the last block with his head leaned against Mario’s head, using his brother's hat as a makeshift pillow, started too, mumbling a greeting that barely resembled the English language, waving at the front door before realizing he was turned around and swaying around to face the warm light of the dining room instead. It looked like dinner was already over, dishes and silverware being cleared away.

“Look who finally decided to show up! Brooklyn’s brand-new heroes!” Uncle Arthur raised a nearly empty glass of what looked like wine in laughing celebration. “What, you save the city from a bunch of weird turtle goons one time and you’re too good to share a meal with us regular bums?” 

“They were helping with the cleanup,” Aunt Marie hissed, swatting him hard enough to elicit a yelp. “Where were you out there, huh?” She smiled warmly at Mario and Luigi on her way to the kitchen. “Sorry we couldn’t wait any longer. Gramps and Mia needed to get to bed. But don’t worry, we saved plenty!”

“Probably too busy signing autographs for all the bella signore,” Uncle Tony guffawed. “Hard to blame ‘em! Better enjoy it before they figure out you’re plumbers with no money!”

“Heh, yeah. Caught us fair and square,” Mario said, managing a weak laugh. Luigi let loose a tiny, snorting chuckle too, although whether that was because he was backing Mario up or just blindly mimicking what he heard, too lost in his own sleepy little world, Mario wasn’t sure. They were still holding onto one another, which they’d maintained the entire walk back except in places where it was impossible to proceed in that way (ladders and the like). That way, a repeat of the stairs incident couldn’t happen, and Mario had known exactly when Luigi was getting shaky enough to need a break. He squeezed his brother’s hand as a way to check in. It took a few seconds, but Luigi squeezed back gently, which was a small relief.

“Is that the boys!?” Without any further warning, their mother barreled out of the kitchen like a runaway train. She grabbed them in both arms, her shaking grip tight enough that both brothers wheezed from a sudden lack of air. “Oddio, where have you been? You already vanished on us once! My old heart can’t take much more of this.” 

“You’re not that old, Ma,” Luigi murmured, patting her shoulder.

“Sorry,” Mario said as clearly as he could manage with his face smothered in her hair. “Didn’t mean to make ya worry. Just, uh, lost track of time, that’s all.”

“What happened?” That was Dad, moving slower to catch up with her, his brow creased deep. “Are you all right?”

“Never been better!” Luigi insisted, overly bright. The bone-crushing hug had woken him up a little, but now he was using his I’m definitely lying but maybe if I speak at a much higher volume, no one will be able to tell voice. “We were just, y’know, real busy making sure everyone on the block could still…flush their toilets! Everyone forgets how important that is. Can ya believe it?”

“And we had to make sure our friends got home safely too,” Mario jumped in, rubbing his mom’s back with his free hand as she continued to hold on for dear life. You get temporarily swallowed by a giant, man-eating plant in front of your parents one time… “But we’re definitely not going anywhere for the rest of the night, and Aunt Marie said something about leftover food, if you can forgive us…?”

“Of course, of course.” She finally stepped back, but not before one good, firm pinch of the cheek between her fingers for each of them. “You’ve worked so hard, my brave boys. You must be about ready to turn inside out from hunger already. Sit, sit, I’ll bring it to you—”

“Actually, Ma,” Mario interjected as gingerly as possible. “It’s been a really, really long day. Could we, uh, maybe take the food in our room? I know, I know, you don’t like that, but if anything gets messy, I’ll take care of it, promise—” 

“Ya can’t be serious!” Uncle Tony spoke up all of a sudden, his chair screeching against the floor as he jumped up. “You two still gotta give us the whole rundown of where ya been! Where did that angry, spikey dragon-turtle-guy even come from?”

“And the tiny kid who looked like a big ole mushroom with legs!” Uncle Arthur added.

“What about that giant monkey in the tie?” Aunt Marie piped up, half-laughing in sheer disbelief as she came back into the room. “He could talk! And not just little words, no — if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was hittin’ on me.”

“Look, I get it, I get it,” Mario insisted as good-naturedly as he could manage. He started to inch towards the hallway with Luigi in tow, who he could feel becoming jittery from all the new noise. All he needed was a few good, firm excuses, a clear escape route, and they were home-free. “It was pretty crazy stuff, right? But seriously, we’re dead on our feet as it is—” 

“Then sit down already and take a load off!” Uncle Tony insisted right back. “We’ll make coffee!” 

“Nooooo, no coffee for me. Now!? I-I think I might shake right out of my skin if, “Luigi started to joke, only to squeak when Uncle Tony grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to steer him around anyway.

“C’moooon! A story like this can’t wait,” Uncle Arthur groaned. “This is the wildest thing that’s happened since Gramps’ teeth were eaten by that dog on the subway! Have some pity for your elders and their boring lives.” 

“We’ll tell ya all about it tomorrow, I swear!” Mario said a little louder, desperately trying to sound casual even as the words scraped up his throat. It was too loud, too bright. A new wave of dizziness swam over him; everything was starting to seem more and more like a dream, his vision smearing at the edges. The only thing that still felt solid, real was his hold on Luigi. He stayed focused on it like a lifeline, even as they were jostled around. “And you’ll understand then why we need to sleep for a million years and then some, I swear, ‘cause we, we’ve really gone through the ringer here...”

“Don’t you think you’ll feel better if you just sit down for a minute?” Ma asked, smiling warmly. “Besides, I wanted to know a little more about that princess—”

“Ya gotta eat anyway!” Uncle Arthur downed what was left of his glass in one swig. “Don’t make us beg!” 

“Forget the coffee. We’ll break out the Sangiovese and that’ll loosen you up real good,” Uncle Tony snickered.

Their uncle grabbed at Luigi again, pulling him along harder this time — hard enough that he panicked, his flailing hand struggling for a better grip on Mario’s before they were ripped apart. And that reminded Mario’s fuzzy, exhausted brain of something. A feeling he didn’t know how to describe in words but that cut into him like a knife between his ribs just the same, bone-deep and blindsiding and instantly overwhelming. He thought of—

(pink clouds and faint swirling light and green pipes and weird wind tunnels he could practically swim through and black shadows like soot in the air and lava glowing and Luigi shouting his name, Luigi panicking as he tried to calm him down, Luigi’s hand warm and snug against his because nothing could hurt them if they were together and nothing was going to separate them as long as Mario was strong enough, steady enough to make it that way but then there was a sound like thunder and the pressure grew and grew and grew and grew and GREW AND)

His body acted on its own. With both hands, he wrenched Luigi back towards him a few stumbling steps, out of Uncle Tony’s hands. “No!” He yelled, a hoarse, guttural sound. 

Silence, save for car horns on the street outside.

Clarity came over Mario in a slow, creeping wave, quickly turning into a feeling of horror as he registered the way everyone had frozen in place around him, staring with wide, frightened eyes. Even their parents looked stricken. Luigi’s tired expression had flooded with worry too, but there was a glint of something warmer there as well — understanding. I felt it, his eyes said to Mario, as clear as day. I remembered too.

“I-I’m sorry, but we really, REALLY need to take a rain check, all right?” That was Luigi, breaking the silence, talking way more assertively than he usually ever did at home. Most of the time, the others drowned him out, but now, he had everyone’s undivided attention, insistently pointing with his one free hand that wasn’t still clinging to Mario’s. “We, me and Mario here, are a little loopy, all right? Not thinking straight in the least! It’s been a hard day — a hard couple of days! Three days, in fact! Maybe three days, or two! Heck, I don’t even know what day it is anymore! That’s how out of whack we are! Do ya get it already!?” 

“Easy there, Lu,” Mario whispered. There was so much frantic gesturing going on that Luigi was starting to throw himself off-balance, swaying dangerously. He still felt ashamed, raw inside from the outburst, but Luigi jumping in had lessened it to the point that he could breathe again, at least. His amazing brother really was full of surprises today, it seemed. “But he’s right. I…it’s just been a lot."

Some glances were shared around the table. Surprisingly, it was Uncle Tony who spoke up first. 

“Y’know what? You do look like you’d be shoo-ins for a zombie movie, no makeup needed.” He clapped them lightly on the shoulders one more time and then sat back down with a backwards wave of the hand. “Don’t worry about us. Go on, get out of here.”

“Get plenty of rest,” Aunt Marie said, her smile plainly apologetic. 

“Man, that just gave me deja-vu like nobody’s business,” Uncle Arthur laughed. “Remember when they were tiny, Tony? We couldn’t peel them off each other for anything in the world.” 

“Oh man, do I,” Tony snorted. “Not without them scratching and screeching like stray cats! Might as well have made you two — whaddya call it again? — conjoined twins and saved a couple steps.” 

“There was that one time we were babysitting at the park down the street—” 

Mario didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. “Come on,” a familiar, gruff voice said near his ear, followed by two large arms herding him and Luigi away, their mother following close behind. “Get yourselves into the kitchen already.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Mario couldn’t help but insist once they were there, heels squeaking on the faded linoleum. Several of his stern talking-to’s over the years had started out much like this in the past; speaking up right away and defending himself before the inevitable yelling happened was practically second nature. “I didn’t mean to yell, I swear, it was just—”

“Never mind that,” the older man cut him off. There was something soft in his tone, softer than Mario could remember hearing it before, and that was when he realized that he'd misread the situation entirely. His dad's eyes were dark with concern, not anger. "Now come on. Give me your gloves, and shoes too. Both of you."

Mario and Luigi glanced at each other and then down at themselves in confused unison, dimly registering that yes, they were still wearing all of that, having forgotten to take everything off at the door like they usually did. Some slow shuffling later, and it was gathered in a pile. Their dad plucked their hats off their heads as well (also missed), tucking everything in the sturdy crook of one arm. He used his free hand to ruffle their hair and pat their faces, one after the other.

"You did good out there," he said, "but what matters most is that you're all right. That's always gonna be what matters most to us. I just," he swallowed slowly, thickly, "I want to make sure you both know that."

For one very brittle moment, as his dad held his face in his big, warm palm, Mario genuinely didn't trust himself to not start either laughing or sobbing right then and there — maybe a crazy mixture of both. The feeling passed, thankfully, but he still managed a wobbly smile, a small nod.

“Now go and wash up. Ma will get the food ready.” Sure enough, their mother was already bustling around like a madwoman, plates clattering and half-empty pots simmering again on the stove. “Luigi, you first. Datti una mossa.” 

“Yessir!” Luigi looked back at Mario before going, a tired, reassuring, still slightly worried look that said I’ll see you in a couple of minutes, okay? Mario reflected it back, and their dad walked Luigi out of the room, towards the hallway.

“Just promise me you’ll tell us what happened tomorrow, all right?” Mario's attention returned to his mother, who was finishing stirring some reheated sauce with a little too much shaky speed before coming over to him, smushing his cheeks in both hands. “I don’t care how old you two get. You're still my babies, and babies shouldn't keep secrets from their poor mother."

“I promise, I promise! You’re gonna pop my teeth out, Ma!” Mario half-laughed, gently tugging at her wrists so he could talk more clearly. “Definitely tomorrow, okay? Right now, I…I don’t know if I could tell ya if I tried. It’s just a crazy blur, and I really gotta process it all myself, still. We just need a little time."

“I understand.” She drew him into another hug. Mario couldn’t help but sink into the familiar warmth, clinging to her. He’d been so worried about Luigi that he’d never even considered the idea that he might never see his parents again either. The realization hit harder than he’d anticipated. “Besides, I know I have nothing to worry about when you two are together. You do such a good job of looking after your brother.” 

(Or even worse, what if he’d been able to come home in the end — but alone? What if he’d had to sit his parents down and tell them that Luigi was…) 

There it was again — that sudden, sour feeling of wanting to cry, such a heavy wave inside him that he had to clench his teeth to the point of pain to hold back a gasp.

Stupid, he thought bitterly, almost angrily. What did he even have to be crying about? Once again, he weathered the rush, kept the walls intact by a hair. He closed his eyes and just let himself be held.

“Of course, Ma,” he croaked. “Always.” 

[rielzero]

I realize.. If these two existed in the same universe, they would be brothers... (Durge Loki and Z'archemoros) And Zane would have a horrible little brother complex. I wonder if Durge Loki would take Orin's place cuz he'd go nuts at some point and not because of Bhaal's favor, but because Zane is obsessive.

[mariocki]

Infinite list of favourite lyrics: 225/?

Billy Joel - Big Shot (1978)

"Well, you went uptown riding in your limousine,

With your fine Park Avenue clothes;

You had the Dom Pérignon in your hand

And the spoon up your nose.

Ooh, and when you wake up in the morning

With your head on fire

And your eyes too bloody to see,

Go on and cry in your coffee

But don't come bitchin' to me."

[clowndensation]

x if anything about this feels like it doesn't fit, that's because you don't understand the profound effect charoum and gorty have had on each other.

[dbphantom]

me every day

[davecumstaine]

Iͧ'̲̫͈̞̒m̩̋̈͌͆ͯͩ f̴̫̜̫ͥ̈ͅul̳̖̬ͣ̽l̵ ȍ͇f̤͖ͭ ḇͬụ͂g̐ͮ̇ͩ̑ͪͩs̡̢̰̙̜̚͢.͖͈_̃..̖̻̽̔̓̒ I̸'̗̏̈͗m̷̘ͪͦ͠ fu̴͌̆̕l͇̓͜͠ͅľ̌ͫ͂͘ ǫ̣ͦ͛͢f̳ m̶̧̺̝ͫ̊i͉̎̕ś͕͘ţ̸̯͎͚͗ḁ͗ͦk͎͋eͮ̓͆́͡͡s͍̤̭ͮͦ̏͘..̭̣̑̏̚.̷̣̪̗̙̿͝

[dragon-tamer-1]

I want to be able to reblog people's art without having to worry about people's negative reactions when it's someone that a majority of people don't like, is that so much to ask?

Why must it be a problem if I like someone's art even if the person believes in something others don't? Why must people treat people like they're bad for liking someone's art and writing when others don't like that person because of their beliefs?

I'm just hanging out and reblogging art and writing that I find enjoyable. In the end that's just what I'm doing when I reblog stuff. Enjoying it. If it's something I don't enjoy/like to see, I just block the tag or, if it's a specific blog that I decided that I didn't enjoy and don't want to see I block that blog as well. Otherwise just vibing. I don't hate anyone that doesn't like someone else of course, but the way people talk about that one person, it's like they think it's the worst possible thing for someone to enjoy that person's art and writing. I just can't hate someone based on that person's beliefs, it just goes against my own personal beliefs, and I can't help that I still enjoy those things.

I try to keep the drama and stuff off my blog cause I'm not about that. And it shouldn't be treated like some kind of crime to still enjoy someone's art/writing/etc just because other people don't like that person, in my opinion.

[nights-at-crystarium]

wolqotd

Is your WoL giggly? Do they crack jokes? Laugh at own jokes? Would they suppress a chuckle in an inappropriate situation, or let it out at the risk of getting in trouble?

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]