#also shes nothing if not dramatic

[revolutionary-jinx]

Plotted starter for @warwaited

Everyone wants to change the underground, from the firelights to Silco and apparently some new vigilante that's been making life really annoying for the chem barons.

She'd been given the run down of the where and who, the be on the look out for, and the detainment speech. Of course Jinx had only half been listening, head full of a catchy tune that kept drowning out the verbal instruction manual she was receiving.

Secretly, Jinx thought it was a little funny all of these supposed tough guy goons were getting their asses handed to them. It made her want to play too.

Which was why the buzzing in her head got louder with excitement the moment she saw someone fitting the description she'd been given. AND on HER stomping grounds??? It's like CHRISTMAS!

Completely forsaking her previous objective the slippery eel made her way towards her prey, catching her in the ally after she'd exited a building.

Perched atop a ledge, gun in hand waving idly, she addressed her new playmate.

"Real bold of you to step off your playground and into mine- don't ch'ya think?"

She sat up and properly looked down at her target, weapon sitting idly in her lap as she sighed.

"You sure don't look like much."

Jinx slipped off the ledge and landed on her feet just steps away from the mysterious stranger.

"But then again neither do I-" A wicked smirk crossed her features as the gun rose to rest on her shoulder.

[sealrock]

the major arcana, shuffled: 10/??

THE FOOL; ⤉ innocence, freedom, adventure, youth ⤈ carelessness, naivety, distraction, irrationality

[marymekpop]

⟢ highlight of the hour: love next door [07/16] ⟣

confession

[jamethinks]

"Good afternoon, Ms. Forger." Fiona greeted the young girl as she entered her father's office. Anya gave her a quick greeting ba k before looking around the room. "Oh, your father had to step out for a moment. He said you should do your homework quietly until he gets back."

Anya sighed and waddled over to the coffee table to get started on her assignment. She looked over at the woman who stood by the door with an unreadable expression. She tried reading her mind, but all her thoughts were just about Twilight and how much she loved him. Seriously, how did she function when that's all she ever thought about.

The woman suddenly sauntered over to Anya, squatting down to her level. Anya tilted her head in confusion as Fiona reached out and plucked something off of her uniform. Anya panicked, "What was that? What did you take?"

"Oh, this?" She held her fingers that were pinching onto something. Anya squinted, trying to see what she was holding. "Just a tiny wuggle you had oj your shirt."

"A wuggle?" Anya was suddenly curious.

"Oh. I guess your father never told you about them." She rose with a sigh. She placed the tiny wuggle into the tiny pocket on her shirt. "I'm surprised you didn't notice it. That surely can't be good."

"Why not? What's a wuggle? Can I see it?"

"Only some people can them." She explained. "If you can't see it that means you don't have to super rare wuggle gene."

Anya was taken aback. She balled her fists in frustration, refusing to let the woman win. "Actually, I did see the wuggle, so I have to gene for it."

"What color was it?" Fiona crossed her arms. Anya looked down feeling defeated. She looked at her trying to read her mind. Maybe she could see her memory of it and then she'll know the colour.

Twilight would have such pretty babies...

Yeah, no, she's useless. Anya groaned. She wanted to see the wuggle, too. Why didn't she have the special wuggle gene. This sucks. It was the worst day ever. "That's a trick question. wuggles are clear coloured."

"Really, the wuggle i got from you was brown."

"That means it wasn't a wuggle." Anya was confident now, she had trapped the woman in a web of her own lies.

"Or you're just lying."

"You're the one that's lying here. I see wuggles all the time."

"How can you see something that's clear?" Anya gasped in shock. She was caught. Oh no. Now Diona knew she didn't have the wuggle gene. She pouted her eyes, swelling with tears. Fiona didn't even seem phased by her expression. Instead, she smirked, knowing she had won their little battle and proven her dominance. Anya fell to the ground crying her eyes desperately trying to prove that she could see the wuggle, but it was all in vain. In the end, Fiona was a spy, a brilliant one at that. Of course, she could see through Anya's lies.

"Please don't tell Papa about this." Anya begged. If Twilight found out that Anya didn't have the super special and rare wuggle gene, he surely was going to return her to the orphanage and exchange her for someone who could see wuggles.

"I'm sorry, Anya. I have no choice. Your father should know the truth bout you. You're a liar and a fraud." Anya broke down sobbing . Fear filled every inch of her tiny body. It was over. Everything was over. She begged and pleaded for forgiveness. Soon, she started coughing, choking on her own sobs.

Suddenly, the office door burst open. It was Twilight. His hair was a mess, panic clear on his face. "What happened? I heard Anya crying from down the hall? Did she have a seizure?"

Anya sat on the ground, reaching her hands out for her father. The confused doctor picked up the sobbing child snuggling her. He looked up at Nightfall with confusion on his face. She shrugged her shoulders, "I have something to take to the lab so if you'll excuse me."

Anya cried harder as she realised it was probably the wuggle she was taking to the lab. Her heart broke thinking about how they were probably going to do a bunch of experiments and tests on the poor thing.

"Noooooo." She cried out, kicking her feet in frustration.

"Anya relax." Twilight groaned, trying to control the fighting child, "What happened? What did she do?"

"She took my wuggle." Twilight looked at the little girl baffled and confused. "She said I don't have the jeans for it but I have a lot of jeans it's not fair. I want my wuggie back."

Twilight rolled his eyes as he tried to calm the inconsolable girl. He had no idea what wuggle was or why Anya was worried about her jeans. Did she want more jeans? Did Nightfall take her jeans? He only stepped for fice minutes, and Anya was already having a meltdown. He really needed to stop leaving Anya with Nightfall if this was going to be the outcome every time.

[nostalgia-tblr]

Right I'm not saying Odin's not had a terrible amount of colonialism and war going on over his however-long-it's-been reign but when Thor wants to lay waste to Jotunheim and Odin tells him off for this it's not just hypocrisy at work, because the Odin of the timeframe of that movie seems sure that this would be Wrong not just politically bothersome and yet he also doesn't really explain to Thor why things are different now and putting that together what you have is this: Odin can't explain his own apparent change of heart without revealing that "oh yeah your brother's a Jotun," even though he must be fairly sure that this information would stop Thor's xenophobic bloodlust in its tracks as effectively as it did his own.

[morningstargirl666]

WIP WEDNESDAY THURSDAY

I swear, I intended to get something done for wednesday but it never really works that way (don't come at me y'all). Also, since I'm rewriting tbbw at the mo, it's kinda the only wip I'm working on so most of the edits are focused around the siblings - not the klaroline.

However! Made some changes to one of the scenes where Klaus broods over Caroline and here we are, on this rare occasion, to see some of the changes I've made. Spoilers under the cut:

“You are in such a foul mood today.”

Klaus made a noise that might have been a growl. “If you hadn’t noticed, Esther is still out there no doubt plotting another way to kill me and my family. Not to mention my siblings are still bound together making us more vulnerable than ever. And now-” he ground out, hissing the words through his teeth, “I find out that a white oak of the same line as the tree that made us vampires might be out there somewhere in the world, waiting to be used to kill us.” Klaus glared dangerously at Sam, lip curled as he turned around to stare instead at the fire. “My mood is perfectly appropriate.”

“So…” Sam took another bite of his apple, slowly raising it to his mouth, eyes on Klaus, who was watching the sketches become devoured by flames, a brooding hand resting under his chin. As Sam chewed, he gestured to the fireplace with the apple core. “It has nothing to do with why you’re burning sketches of one Caroline Forbes?” he asked, perfectly innocent.

“I’m burning them because she means nothing to me,” he ground out through gritted teeth, refusing to turn and deign Sam with a glance. “She was a passing fancy, nothing more.”

Sam titled his head, squinting. “The wolf didn’t seem to think that.”

“My wolf is clearly defective,” Klaus spat, throwing a hand out, abandoning his attempt at a calm, contemplative stance.

“If you say so,” Sam muttered with raised brows, deliberately not looking at Klaus and instead focusing on his phone as he munched on his apple.

Klaus shook his head, glaring into the flames as he watched the sketches burn. Sam���s silence gnawed at him, making him twitch with the urge to explain himself.

It wasn’t long before he did. 

“I knew Esther was planning something, I knew she would betray us and I did nothing because I was distracted by a girl that leapt at the chance to attack my family the second opportunity arose,” he burst out, whirling on Sam. Mouth halfway to his apple, Sam froze, rather wide-eyed. Klaus continued on regardless, his words growing more vicious, poisoned with such vitriol, his lips curled into a snarl. “Kol got daggered because of her! The Salvatores nearly killed you - because of her,” he spat, emphasised with a pointed jab to the floor. Sam lowered his apple, cowered by the wild look in Klaus’ eye. The man in question laughed, a short huff of bitterness, gesturing to Sam angrily, inviting him to prove him wrong. “So please, tell me why I should entertain this infatuation any longer? When it has proved to be dangerous not only to my own sanity but also to the safety of this family.”

Sam didn’t say anything for a long moment, his appetite completely forgotten. Then, slowly, he looked up at Klaus, a certain defiance in his eye.

“She knew about the champagne, Nik,” he said softly. Immediately, the anger, the readiness for a fight - it all drained away, leaving Klaus feeling wrong-footed in the face of Sam’s pointed truths. “Granted, she didn’t know what spell was in the champagne; didn’t know you weren’t linked to your siblings… but she knew you hadn’t drunk it. And she didn’t tell her friends.” Sam smiled sadly, shrugging helplessly. “Maybe it is stupid. Maybe it is a mistake. But if it was me? Personally, I’d want to know why she didn’t betray you as much as you’d like to believe.”

Klaus forced himself to swallow. He quickly looked away, unable to keep looking at the expression on Sam’s face that seemed to see through him entirely, his words resonating loudly inside his mind. Heaving a sigh, Sam stood, throwing the apple core into the nearest wastebasket. He hesitated before leaving the room, gaze softening on Klaus, sympathy in his eyes. 

“Just because your parents didn’t love you, doesn’t mean no one else will,” he said. 

Then Sam left, not allowing him time to respond. Klaus glared at his back, hands clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. 

“Love is a vampire’s greatest weakness,” he ground out, calling after him.

Sam stopped in his tracks, slightly turning his head back towards Klaus. Then he smiled, and with one sentence, shattered a belief Klaus had closely courted for centuries. 

“Good thing you’re not a vampire then, isn’t it?”

And with that parting remark, Sam turned with a smirk and left the room, leaving Klaus wide-eyed, forced to contemplate over what he had said. In the dancing flames of the hearth, the sketches Klaus had thrown into the fire continued to burn, flames licking at their edges and crawling across the lines of charcoal and pencil, leaving nothing but ash behind. He looked down at the last sketch of Caroline he’d drawn: the first moment she stepped into his studio, eyes wide with awe as she craned her head to look up at the paintings hung around on the walls. Fingers reverently skimming over her face, he gently tugged the paper from the pad but didn’t throw it into the flames like the others, placing his sketchbook aside on the mantel almost with half a mind. Then, careful not to damage the soft lines of Caroline’s features, he folded the sketch tentatively in two and slipped it into his back pocket.

He told himself he would burn it later. He didn’t.

[forestgreenlesbian]

.

[hauntingblue]

Oh now the villagers know..... and arlong burned the town to punish her..... for some reason

[delicateartisantrash]

My Mom Is Cool

My mom is unfamiliar with the term "robofucker" and has probably not heard me say "robot porn" because i think i usually say Allen or just Transformer or something

Anyhow she just referred to one of my stories i was showing her the stats on (my mom likes following my author blog progress and she also sometimes reads the reviews with me we're silly yes) as Techno Smut and I

how was I today years old hearing that for the first time

I love it

I'm stealing it

T e c h n o s m u t

conversations I never thought I'd have with my mom, I adore her.

[thats-sir-dyke-to-you]

When it comes to hygiene tasks and self care with disability and chronic illness, its pretty much a constant case of: don't let perfect be the enemy of the good.

Basically: it's better to do something, than to do nothing at all.

TLDR: Just because you can't do something "properly" doesn't mean you shouldn't do it at all. Do it half-way. Do it shitty. Do it barely. Do it on a technicality. But do what you can. Just try, because doing something will help you.

If you don't have the energy to scrub your body with a sponge, just rub soap over your skin with your hands.

If you don't have the energy to wash your whole body with soap, just hit the places where sweat accumulates, or where you're smelliest.

If you don't have the energy to wash with soap AT ALL, just sitting in water is better than nothing. It will wash away dirt and oils.

If you can't bathe or shower at all, a warm wash cloth is your new best friend. If that's too much, then try bath wipes. They're a bit bigger than regular wet wipes, and a bit more heavy duty. They're designed to help keep bed ridden patients clean in hospitals.

If you don't have the energy to dry yourself after a bath or a shower, just put on a bathrobe and get into bed. If you don't have the energy to get dressed afterwards, just don't. It can wait until you can.

If you don't have energy to brush your teeth for two minutes, honestly, just a cursory scrub is better than not doing anything.

If you can't brush your teeth twice a day, brush in the evenings. It will help take away the build up of food from the day.

If you don't have the energy to brush AT ALL, honestly, just take a cloth and wipe the plaque off your teeth. Rinse with mouth wash after if you'd like. Something is always better than nothing.

If you can't floss twice a day. Try once. If that's too much, try a few times a week. If that's too much, try setting aside a day once a week as a goal. If you can't keep a schedule, do it when you're able to. Hell, I keep some floss next to my bed so that if I forget and don't have the energy to go get it, I can just reach over.

If you can't iron your clothes, don't bother. Wrinkles are fine. Wear jumpers over wrinkly t-shirts. No one will know, and honestly, most people won't even care. If it's really wrinkly and it's A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Ironed, here's my life hack. Step 1: take a spray bottle, and spritz the item of clothing (while you're wearing it is easiest) until it's lightly damp. Step 2: use a hair-dryer on the clothes until they're dry. It gets rid of creases like nobody's business, it's easier than lugging out the iron and ironing board, and you get to have nice toasty warm clothes afterwards.

If you can't fold your clothes, try just hanging them up. It's less commitment. It's quicker to do. Granted, you need to have the space in order to do this, but it is also good at helping you downsize, and lets you visualise exactly what you have.

If you can't put your clothes away, invest in a couple of laundry baskets, and then just keep your clean clothes in the baskets. You can then separate washed clothes into underwear, pants, and shirts baskets. You can just leave them like that. I'm giving you permission to never fold your laundry again if you can't. Just leave it unfolded. Who's going to care? Something is better than nothing. If you can, try to put those baskets into your closet so that you can keep the clutter out of sight, and give yourself a more restful environment.

If you can't separate your clothing out into different categories and wash them "properly" (whites, warm tones, cool tones, darks, delicates / switching between hot & cold washes / paying attention to laundry instructions on the label) then just don't worry about it. If you cold wash your clothes, colours won't bleed. Maybe gradually over the course of dozens of washes there'll be some changes in hue, but it's really not as high stakes as the One Red Sock In The Whites Turns Them Pink trope makes it out to be.

I've pretty much come to the point in my life where if a piece of clothing can't survive the washer and dryer, then it's just not meant to be. I colour separate my clothes, and if I have the energy/remember I'll take my bras and jumpers out of the washing machine to drip dry. But otherwise, I leave it to the universe.

If you can't separate out your recycling, then don't. If you have a large amount of rubbish you need to get rid of but the idea of separating it out properly is stopping you from doing so, then just don't worry about it. I know it's not ideal, but if you have garbage in your room/house and you need to get rid of it, please just get rid of it. Don't let the problem get bigger and harder to deal with. Don't let "doing something properly" get in the way of keeping your living spaces clean. Please. Give yourself understanding.

If you can't wash your dishes, get paper plates. Obviously, it's not ideal, but it is better that you eat food than skipping meals. It is better that you have a clean kitchen, rather than having dishes piling up and making it harder to look after yourself.

If you can't prepare meals for yourself keep making the tasks easier and easier. If you can't do recipes, then simplify. Use pasta sauce from the jar instead of making it. Eat canned soup. Buy food you can just stick in the oven. If you eat fish fingers and microwave veggies every night, it's better than not eating anything at all. It's better than having to fork out money on take-out. If you need ready-made meals, then get them. If you're literally just eating a raw cauliflower for dinner; 1) I see you, 2) me too, sis, 3) something is better than nothing.

These are the basic things you need to do every day to function as a person. They are your activities of daily living. Brushing your teeth. Bathing or showering. Using the bathroom. Getting dressed. Eating. Drinking. Sleeping. Keeping your environment clean. You don't need to do these things perfectly, but they need to happen in order for you to have a decent quality of life.

And it breaks my heart, because I know that so many disabled people can't do these things every day. I'm not saying this to guilt or judge, I'm saying that these are basic needs; you deserve these things. These things bring dignity. If a disabled person is unable to do these things, it diminishes their quality of life. It robs them of dignity.

If you need help to do these things, Its okay to ask for help. It's okay to need help. But if you can't get that help and you have to do these things by yourself -- or you just plain want to be independent and do it without help-- then don't hold yourself to standards you can't meet.

Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. Doing something is always better than doing nothing. Even if it's not perfect. Even if it's not done well. Do what you can.

[imflyingfish]

working in an art gallery and talking to a lot of full time artists has given me CRAZY imposter syndrome btw lmao

[aeolianblues]

I would sooo love to take in 0 implications. Everything face value. Nobody can hint me nothing. I live a life free of undertones. What bliss

[rxttenfish]

i love it when miranda gets to be stupidly dramatic over nothing. currently in the fic she's wildly upset that aaravi didn't compliment how nice the letter she wrote breaking bad news to aaravi was. she put extra effort making it sound all nice and everything!

[synthaphone]

so there's a Stop Making Sense cover album coming out in honor of the movie's 40th anniversary, and i listened to the preview tracks that are out, and the best thing about it so far, for me, is that its reminded me that Girlfriend is Better is a really fucking good song

[pop-punklouis]

-

[chloecherrysip]

Just Beyond My Reach, There's Someone Reaching Back For Me (speculative mario movie fic, mario & luigi centric, around 3600 words.)

[OK SO i literally could not stop thinking about this post in the mario movie tag from last week, which turned into me trying to write out my thoughts about how the scenario could unfold, which then turned into me writing a full-fledged fanfic that's over 3,000 words long??? I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. I've truly lost my common sense, but I just felt like I HAD to get this out before the movie arrives and their reunion is nothing like this in any way whatsoever.

This is a speculative fic of just one possible scenario out of millions, no actual spoilers; i'm working off info we've seen in the trailers/TV spots/promotions/etc, and all the characterization is based off those too, so it might ultimately be off-base. Please don't @ me after the movie comes out and get on my case about details being wrong! I AM IN THE PAST (and jealous of you in the future for having already seen it).

I present to you: A Version Of Mario & Luigi's Reunion in the Mario Movie That Would Cause Me Irreparable Psychic Damage.]

----

Mario hears him first. He would know that panicked yelp anywhere. 

By that point, he’s lost count of how many of Bowser’s minions he’s tried to interrogate as he fights his way through the airship. There’s so much shouting and clanging all around him, and his voice hurts from yelling loud enough to be heard over it, but he can’t stop. “Where do you keep prisoners? Have you seen someone who looks like me — but tall, skinny, and green? If you take me to him, I’ll go easy on ya, I swear—” 

it’s hard to tell if they’re just refusing to answer him, genuinely don’t know any useful information, or can’t actually communicate in a way he understands — probably some in each column. But he’s about to grab another angry Koopa by the shell and try again when there’s a commotion far off in the distance. The yell that echoes out to him is faint, but it tugs hard at Mario like a rope tied around his middle. Something from his memories, the nightmares he’s been having this whole adventure that he hasn’t told Peach and Toad about. Something instantly, certainly familiar to him in a way that few things are. 

His heart is suddenly lodged in his throat. He barrels his way past the troops and the Kongs fighting them, moving fast towards it.

The area of the airship he’s in starts to slope down further ahead, surrounding a huge open space that, judging by the flickering embers in the air and heavy heat that’s got him sweating through his shirt already, has a whole bunch of lava simmering at the bottom. On the other side of the chasm, there are a whole group of what look like angry blue penguins beating down some feisty stacks of Goombas with their bare flippers. There’s also what impossibly looks like a star, with a face and everything, beaming bright and doing twirling cartwheels in the air, giggling at the carnage underneath. And behind all that, he can see—

Mario reacts without having to think. He jolts forward against the railing, reaches a hand out, and yells as loud as he can. “LUIGI!” 

He can only see glimpses of his overalls and green hat at first amidst all the other chaos, but then pieces of the ongoing fight tumble further to either side, giving a clear view. Mario watches wide-eyed as his brother frantically swats away Goombas, shrieking and flailing his arm furiously when one snags some teeth through his sleeve until it comes loose. He looks terrified and a little queasy, but also very determined, even jumping in to help when one of the penguins gets pinned down. They seem to be working together. 

Luigi is here. He’s really here, alive and fighting and still in one piece. Mario isn’t too late. It feels like a 20 pound weight’s suddenly gone from his back that he hadn't even realized he was carrying around.

His yell is half-drowned out by the chaos, but Luigi’s head still snaps up, eyes wide and stricken and bright with recognition. “Mario?” He cries out, his voice cracking badly. He kicks another Goomba away and then starts spinning, searching the surrounding area with increasing desperation. “Mario!?” 

“Over here!” Mario wishes he had another raccoon powerup so he could just fly across the gap and reach him right then and there. He has to settle for taking off his cap and waving it in the air like a flag. “Luigi! Over here!” 

Finally, their eyes meet across the gorge. It’s not necessary at that point, but Luigi still tears off his own hat and starts flailing it around too overhead, as if just to make absolutely sure his brother knows where he is. “MARIO!” He shouts, his tired face instantly transforming into a relieved, overjoyed smile. 

“Are you okay!?” 

“Y-Yeah! I mean, define “okay,” but I, I'm not hurt or anything like — wait, how did you get here!? We’re way up in the air!”

Mario’s face already hurts from how wide he’s grinning. “Not anymore! And whaddya mean? What do ya think I’ve been doing all this time? Looking for you! You don’t think I could find you wherever you are, even if it’s a million miles in the air? Give your big bro some credit, eh?” 

A laugh bursts out of Luigi, surprised and shaky. Mario has missed that sound so much. “Right, right. I did think…I mean, I hoped, or…” His brother shakes his head, his voice failing him. He lets out a deep breath, so deep that it’s almost like he’s been holding it in ever since they were separated, still smiling like the sun. “I knew you would. Mario, you — look out!” 

Mario turns just as a hammer goes whizzing past his ear, tumbling down into the lava pit. He dodges the next one more capably and then catches the third one that comes his way. In one smooth, lightning-quick motion, he throws it back at the attacking Hammer Bro, nailing him in the face and knocking him out cold.

“Whoa!” He turns back to see Luigi staring with his mouth agape. “When did you learn how to do that?”

“It's kinda a long story!” There will be plenty of time to get into all the details about his adventure when he’s gotten Luigi safely out of an active warzone.  “What about you? I thought you were a prisoner here!” 

“I am! Or I was, I guess! We — me, and the penguins, and Lumalee,” he gestures wearily up overhead, where the blue star-thing is idly playing with a pinwheel that it somehow conjured out of thin air, “and the others — we broke out! We, ah, we’ve been trying to find a way outta here ever since, but this place is a maze and we need some kind of hot air balloon or one of those floating clown-car thingies to even get away in the first place, and—”

“Spinies at four o’clock!” One of the penguins shouts, at the same time that Mario yells “Luigi, on your left!”

Luigi jolts at the sight of the three spiky, spinning shells approaching fast. He jumps high enough to leapfrog right over them all, causing them to ricochet off the wall unexpectedly and careen off the side straight into the deep pit. 

“Nice, Weegie!” Mario cheers. “You always were the better jumper.” 

“Keep your head in the fight, soldier!” One specific penguin calls out to Luigi. He’s wearing a very fancy gold crown — probably their king? “We’re not done here yet!” 

“I know, I know, but look!” Luigi gestures excitedly across the chasm. “My brother’s here! He made it!”

“Good show! If he’s as brave as you said, he can help us beat back these dastardly troops once and for all! We’ll all see the light of day again soon!”

The rest of the penguins cheer, thrusting their flippers victoriously into the air, and then let out a wave of new, guttural battle cries. The Penguin King smiles over at Mario and salutes him before rejoining the fray. There are more of Bowser’s minions crowding the walkways on both sides, Mario realizes with a newfound wave of worry. He needs to get to Luigi now. 

“Stay right there!” He calls, starting to run alongside the railing. “Don’t move! I’m coming!”

“Are you kidding!? Wait!” Luigi starts running too, mirroring Mario. “I can meet you faster this way!” 

Mario laughs. “If you can keep up with me!” 

“You’re on!”

The road ahead of him is pure chaos, filled with attacking enemies and whooping Kongs and weapons flying every which way, but Mario runs. He runs until his heart burns, dodging and weaving, almost tripping here and there because he can’t stop looking over the gap to make sure Luigi’s still there on the other side, stumbling his way through his own gauntlet. The two areas are winding closer together, slowly but surely. They must meet somewhere. He’ll find it. He has to.

“Hey, Luigi!” He yells, breathless and happy. “Remember when we were fixing Mrs. McGrady’s sink a couple weeks ago and talking about the future? Did you imagine it’d be anything like this?” 

“Whaddya think!?” Luigi shouts back jokingly. “I-I mean, I imagined people being mad at us, but those were customers. There was definitely a lot less lava, and magic, and crazy green pipes that send you to places from your literal nightmares!” He laughs, which swiftly turns into a yelp when he has to dodge away from a red Koopa. The next words come out thicker, almost strained. “Mario, you, you’re really here, you — I missed you, I…”

Even with the distance and the distracting noise and the heavy breathing, Mario can hear the familiar tearing in his brother’s voice, and it pushes him to run faster. Luigi is so much braver than many people in their life have given him credit for, but he has a breaking point, and Mario can recognize it like the back of his own hand. Heck, he could use a good cry right about now too. They're so close. Just a little further.

He’s never been the biggest hugger — that title belongs squarely to Luigi, who always holds on a little too long, especially when Mario protests, swinging him up into the air until Mario has to grab him in a headlock and wrestle him down, both of them laughing by then — but he genuinely doesn’t know how he’s ever going to let go of his brother again once he’s within arm’s reach. 

“I missed you too! Every day!” He calls out, and if his voice cracks, well, that’s okay. “Hold on! It’s gotta be just up ahead!” There’s a solid wall coming up where they won’t be able to see each other across the way any longer, but the sharp curve of it looks extremely promising. “I’ll meet you on the other side!” 

“Okay!” 

The wall comes between them. Mario's finally in the clear, having left all the attackers in the dust. His legs and chest hurt, but it doesn’t matter. He's about to get his brother back. He feels invincible, unstoppable.

“I told you, bro!” He can’t hear Luigi at all any longer, but he shouts anyway, hoping the words reach him.  “Even if it didn’t turn out like we thought, it’s all gonna be okay! This is crazy stuff, but as long as we're—” 

Mario turns the corner and skids to a sharp stop. The words die in his throat, turning to ash.

Bowser is in front of him. 

The King of the Koopas nearly fills the entire space wall-to-wall, hulking and monstrous, even bigger than what Mario imagined. He breathes out an angry, deep growl that prickles at Mario’s skin, star-bright embers scattering in the air, the smell of burning getting stronger and stronger. But none of that is what Mario is focusing on. He’s frozen in place at the sight of Luigi, wriggling in one of Bowser’s gripped hands. A thick, scaly finger is coiled tight over his brother’s mouth too, keeping him from making any noise besides a variety of muffled, panicked sounds. 

“Thought you didn’t know him, Greenie,” Bowser says in a low voice to Luigi. “Wasn’t that what you said? Boy, you wouldn’t like what I usually do to liars. It involves fire — a lot of it.” His rows of sharp teeth part, just enough for a big exhale, tinged with molten heat. Luigi cringes, turning his head away as far as he can manage. He’s trembling. “But lucky for you, turns out you’re not entirely useless.”

It takes a moment for Mario to come back into his body, remember how to move and think. But slowly, his hands ball into fists. A voice erupts out of him that barely sounds like his own, grave and angry, angrier than he’s ever been in his life. 

“I’m only gonna say this once, ya overgrown turtle,” he says, shifting his footing into a fighting stance. “Let my brother go now.”��

Bowser looks down at him with a derisive sort of amusement for a long moment before laughing outright. "Give me a break, shortie! You’re even punier in person — 50 of you couldn't stop me. But that hasn’t stopped you from trying, has it? You and your little friends  — your pathetic excuse for an “army,” if that’s what you want to call it. But that all ends now.” 

As if on cue, Mario hears DK and a few other Kongs turn the corner, whooping and hollering, only to pause too at the sight of Bowser. “Let’s get ‘em! He can't take us all at once!” Someone says, and there’s a rush of new movement behind Mario. Bowser turns Luigi in his hand, holding him out a little closer to Mario with a shake of the wrist — a taunt. One of his claws pulls up just a little from the rest, the sharp tip arched and pressed lightly to his brother’s neck. The implication is clear. 

“Stop!” Mario shouts, half-strangled. He must sound serious enough that DK yells “hang on, hang on!” to his brethren, grabbing them with both arms and holding them back from attacking. On Bowser's other side, Mario can see the penguins watching what’s unfolding too with wide eyes. Even all the minions in the area have gone still, weapons lowered, waiting to see what Bowser does before making their next move. The space is suddenly quiet. 

The claw finally relaxes again. Luigi’s eyes are very wide, and there are tears on his face as he stares at Mario. He tries to say something, the sound of it hopelessly muffled against Bowser’s hand — an apology, or a plea, or simply Mario’s name. 

Mario is shaking. He grits his teeth hard, desperately tries to hold himself steady again. He hopes Bowser can’t see it — but there’s a gleam in the King’s eyes, and it couldn’t be any clearer that he does. 

“Do you know how long I worked on this plan?” Bowser says, his tone softer, more thoughtful all of a sudden.  “Orchestrating these invasions, gathering forces far and wide to serve me, taking the almighty power star for myself. I’ve wanted this for years!” His wide mouth curves up, plainly wicked and self-satisfied. “And now here I am, about to rule the world like I deserve, and a couple of useless, pipsqueak plumbers from who-knows-where think they’re just gonna waltz right in and ruin it for me.” Bowser chuckles to himself. It’s a dangerous, sharp-edged sound, echoing on and on. “Ain’t that a laugh, Mario?” 

Mario doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even know if he’s breathing any longer. All he can do is glare.

Bowser shrugs. The large fingers on his occupied hand flex ever so slightly, a slow, malicious ripple of movement, all the scales glinting in a wave. “You’re less fun than I thought you’d be,” he says gruffly. "What does the princess even see in you? A tiny little killjoy who loves ruining things for others. Guess it’s only fair I ruin something of yours to make us even."

There’s no further warning or fanfare. In one brutal motion, Bowser crushes his grip tighter around Luigi. His brother’s mouth is still covered, but the way he cries out is starkly, unmistakably pained. 

Mario’s vision floods with red. Something inside of him, the patient, careful part that was still desperately clinging to one last scrap of self-control, snaps cleanly in two. He runs at Bowser full-speed, fist cocked back, teeth bared. 

“I said LET HIM GO!” 

He doesn’t make it there. Bowser, grinning outright, moves so much faster than Mario would have ever guessed he could. He spins, and his tail comes out of nowhere. The impact is like an oncoming train, catapulting Mario into the nearby wall with a sickening crack.

There’s a horrible ringing sound in his ears. His head hurts. He hears Bowser laugh, followed by a roar and a burst of fire breath, awful-smelling and close enough to singe. There’s a lot of shouting, and panic, and thunderous footsteps, moving in a hurry. He can’t think any longer. Why can’t he think? All that comes to mind is—

(They’re fifteen, hiding in their bedroom with some smuggled bandages and antibiotics from the medicine cabinet because if their mom finds out Mario punched out a kid behind the school, she will LITERALLY murder him. Luigi wraps each bruised knuckle carefully as Mario winces and complains about the stinging ointment. His brother looks angrier than he’s ever seen him before, though, and that makes him quiet again in a hurry.)

“You want him so bad?” Bowser is much further away, his voice a distant rumble over the flickering flames. Get up, Mario tells himself. He’s gasping, struggling to push himself back up with useless, trembling hands. His legs feel numb. Get up! “Then come and get ‘em already!”

(“You never stop and THINK first, y’know?” Luigi shakes his head, badly trying to hide the tears budding under his eyes. “And now you’re hurt, and it’s all my fault, and — and I don’t need you to do stuff like that for me! I can handle it, e-even if you think I can’t!”) 

“Mario!” That’s Luigi, terrified and wheezing, finally able to talk again. An intentional decision by Bowser, no doubt, just to be cruel. Mario can barely hear his brother at all, and the sound of his voice keeps growing fainter. “No! Let go! MARIO!” 

(“What are you even saying? That’s not why I did it at all!” Mario insists, using his uninjured hand to flick Luigi’s nose with a few fingers. His affronted expression at that makes Mario laugh, and the motion quickly turns into them trying to be the first one to swat each other in the face without getting blocked. At least the tears are forgotten, which is what he wanted from the start. “Don’t ya get it? I know you can take care of yourself. But if anyone wants to hurt you, they’re gonna have to go through me first. I’M the big bro, and that’s just how it is forever.”) 

Luigi! 

He’s standing again, even as his body protests every pull and push of the way, even as he’s still struggling to open his eyes. Someone strong and furry offers some extra support on his right side. 

“You okay, man?” Donkey Kong asks. “Geez, that looked like it hurt. Hey, anyone have an extra mushroom?” 

Stars are flashing across his vision, but finally they fade away. There’s a line of fire in front of them like a makeshift barrier, slowly but steadily dying out. Sure enough, Bowser and Luigi are gone. Mario’s heart lurches hard against his ribs.

“Setting a devious trap for sure,” The Penguin King grouses from further away. “Using one’s own flesh and blood! Does that dastardly Koopa’s depravity know no limits?” 

“I’m fine. Never better,” Mario groans. He points past the fire. “He went that way, right?” 

DK blinks, looking a little uneasy. “Uh, yeah, but we should probably regroup first and — hey! Wait a second, you idiot!”

Mario’s already charged full-speed ahead, jumping over the flames. Others yell after him too, saying it's too dangerous, but he’s running anyway, chasing the smell of molten heat, the faint, far-off echoes of yelling that feel like pinpricks in his lungs. 

He knows it’s a trap. He knows. He just doesn’t care.

He already let Luigi literally slip through his hands once before. Heck, he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to forgive himself for that alone. No matter where he has to go, who he has to fight, how much abuse he has to take, he's getting Luigi back right now, and he's gonna pound that overgrown bully's face until he regrets every life decision that led to him daring to hurt Mario's little brother.

It can't be too late. He can't have screwed this up again. He'll do anything. Even if...

The feeling of something on his cap startles him out of the thought — the softest boop-boop-boop, like someone very small is bouncing on it. He assumes he’s just imagining things until the blue star-thing (Lumalee?) floats down further, easily keeping up with his top speed, humming what sounds like a lullaby. Mario gawks in its direction. 

“The biggest sacrifices are often the ones that burn the brightest, out in space,” it says, bright and sing-song. “Did you know that?”

“What are you even talking about!?” Mario yells. “Sorry, but I’m a little busy here!” 

It’s unbothered by that, twirling close enough to give his mustache a little, playful poke. “Not existing any longer is natural, inevitable. We all go into the light someday.” The way it’s staring at Mario is unnerving, as though this little, creepy star knows exactly what he was just thinking about. “You look scared of that. Are you?” 

Mario swallows thickly. 

“No,” he says. “If that’s the only way, then…” His eyes are burning at the edges, just a little. “If the people I love are safe, then it doesn’t matter what happens to me.”

Lumalee smiles a dreamy, thoughtful smile.

“Oh,” it sighs, little more than a breath. “This is going to be so much fun.” 

And then it floats away. 

Mario doesn’t have time to stop and wonder what that was all about. He throws himself deeper and deeper into the airship, even when a heavy metal gate slams down behind him to separate him from the others, even when the slabs of rock under his feet sink down into the lava from the weight and don’t resurface, erasing any way out. Mario thinks of his training, of Princess Peach and Toad cheering him on, of the exhilaration and hope he felt looking out over the Rainbow Road, of Luigi smiling in the warp zone right before they were ripped apart. He steels himself for what’s coming next.

Further ahead, he hears his brother call out for him.

Mario runs.