#she just wants to help :(

[angelxd-3303]

While on the run how would mario take care of a sick luigi? (I see it was mentioned in the fic so I'm curious)

Soft jazz played from a phonograph as Pauline patted her damp hair with a towel. She hummed along with the melody as she wandered into the kitchen. A tea kettle whistled on the stove, and she pulled it off the burner. Pouring the scalding water into her teacup, Pauline let out a small hum at a knock on the door. Setting the towel on the counter, she frowned. Glancing up at the clock, Pauline was confused.

It was 9:30 at night, who on earth could be at the door? Another knock, this one sounding more frantic. Pauline adjusted her fuzzy robe, rushing to the door. As she opened it, an inquiry died on her tongue as she laid eyes on her visitor.

Wide blue eyes set into a tired face brought her back to what had happened a few days ago. The homeless boy, Mario, was it? He stood on her doorstep, shaking in the cold. Seeing what was cradled in his arms, Pauline didn't think it was the cold alone that made him tremble. The little boy, Luigi, was nestled in Mario's arms, small body shaking. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Pauline finally found her words.

"Oh, goodness!" She exclaimed, reaching out and grasping Mario's shoulder. The teen locked up, still fearful, but Pauline gently ushered him in. Once inside, Pauline took a closer look at Luigi. Upon closer inspection, he appeared to be sick. His face was flushed, and every breath was labored and raspy. Mario himself seemed to be gasping, he was probably catching whatever Luigi had. 

Cooing softly, Pauline carefully took Luigi from Mario. The older boy seemed vacant, numbed by fear and illness. Pauline pulled off the tattered jackets the boys wore, hanging them up in the mudroom. At her encouragement, Mario pulled off his shoes, and Pauline shushed Luigi's whines as she did the same for him. Holding him in one arm, and wrapping the other around Mario, Pauline herded the older boy into the living room. She gestured to the couch, but Mario hesitated.

"Don't…don't wanna get it dirty���" He mumbled weakly. Pauline sighed, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"It can be cleaned, sweetheart. Lay down, it's ok." At her reassurances, Mario let out one more shudder before plopping down on the couch. Pauline placed Luigi in his arms, smiling as Mario laid down with a relieved sigh. As he cuddled Luigi closer, Pauline grabbed a blanket from her recliner and tucked the boys in.

She rushed back to the kitchen, going through her medicine cabinet. Tomorrow, she could see how Mario felt, and hopefully get both boys a warm bath. Tomorrow, she could try to get them to eat something, she still had cans of soup in the pantry. For now?

Check their temperature, make sure they're comfortable. Maybe some tea would help their throats? As Pauline scurried around getting everything she needed, her eyes landed on the news article she'd seen before. Should she call someone? On the other hand, if she did Mario might take Luigi and leave. She shook her head, questions for tomorrow.

Pauline found them in the same exact place as before when she reentered. The exhaustion in Mario's eyes almost made Pauline tear up, but she pushed down the lump in her throat. Setting down two cups of tea and a bowl with cool water, she knelt down in front of the couch and cupped Luigi's face gently. He whined, and she shushed him quietly.

"It's ok, baby, you're ok." She assured, carefully coaxing a thermometer into his mouth. waiting a few seconds, she pulled it out. Grimacing at the high temperature, she cooed sympathetically as Luigi sobbed weakly. She wet a washcloth with the cold water and folded it before laying it on his forehead. Luigi moaned in response, clamping a hand over the cloth to press it closer. Pauline cleaned off the thermometer, moving to check Mario. The older teen flinched, glaring at her distrustfully. 

"I need to check you too, sweetheart. It's ok, you're safe here." Mario studied her for a moment, again reminding her of a stray cat. Poor thing, who hurt these sweet little ones?!

"You tell anyone we're here, we're leaving." He declared. Pauline sighed, nodding.

"I understand. Please let me help." At this, Mario relaxed just a little bit. He let her check his temperature, which wasn't much better than that of his brother. She wet a washcloth for him, and smiled softly at the sigh of relief. Mario's tired eyes fluttered shut, and soon the older brother was taken by sleep. It didn't take long for Luigi to fall asleep as well, and Pauline was left sitting on the floor beside the boys. 

Sighing deeply, the woman looked them over. Luigi had a deep cut over his nose, and Mario had one on his cheek. What happened to them? How did they get hurt? 

And most importantly, how could she help?

[avesomnia-inhoramortis]

[ooc]

So here's a terrifying thought for everyone: Mohg carries Saint Trina into Mohgwyn Palace in a bridal carry. Sir Ansbach and Varré very respectfully inquire "what the fuck", and Mohg explains that he had made a brand new alliance (and he is acting like a bird with a crush).

Saint Trina, delighted to be carried around everywhere and determined to make a good impression, tells what amounts to Mohg's high command that she can give them hundreds of people ranging from farmers to experienced castle staff, information on almost anyone they wish in the Lands Between, more medical specialists, and also flower crowns.

I think one of Mohg's commanders would pass out on the spot.

While the Mohgwyn Dynasty has soldiers, you can't run an empire without seamstresses and carpenters and blacksmiths and half a dozen other things, and Saint Trina's devoted albinaurics were mostly slaves and castle staff in Liurnia. So.

[thephantomcello]

When you're mean to me this is who you're being mean to

https://x.com/Toshia_San_art/status/1773789533051453741

[annaberunoyume]

Somnus (my new Naga OC): Oh...My dear MK...Aren't you tired of being a...Ressstlesss hero? I can ssssenssse...How utterly heartbroken you are....Deep down...Don't you feel it might...Be time...For a resssspiiiite?

MK: Huh?....Hum....I...am...tired....A looooot...My heart...huuurtsss...You...right...(HIs mouth falls more and more ajar)

Somnus (calm, slow chuckle): I thought ssso. What do you sssay to a little...(small giggle) Trip with me....To a placcce where you can resssst... (She glances upwards in a fake thinking) a mighty....(getting closer and closer to his face)....Lenghty....Cozzzzy...Looooong...Tiiiiime?

(Screecap from Season 1, Episode 2 (“Duplication”)) from Lego Monkie Kid.

[strrymko]

🍋[Lemon] for the beauty of clare 🥺💖

CRYING!! I'm super excited to answer this one!

🍋 [LEMON] What is their kryptonite/ultimate weakness?

I think Clarabelle's ultimate weakness is her naivety, or lack of experience. Like she up and leaves the comforts of her kingdom to find work and live a more humble life, at the same time not realizing it's not all rainbows and sunshine. I'm sure the bakers look at her and are like "Is this princess dumb? Why would she leave to work in a place like this?"

This also leads into her becoming a doormat for others to walk on and she sometimes is hurt by it later if some miracle has her realize what they did was wrong.

Clarabelle is way too much of a people pleaser so if someone like Jack Horner asks her to put on a uniform and sell pies, she'll do it thinking it will help him but really.. it's mostly for his amusement. LOL

Thank you for the ask! I really had to think hard about this one! hehe

[avocadosockz]

Zelda is so "this is me trying" its not even funny

[puppyeared]

filipina miku!! my mom helped me with her outfit ^_^

[nooling]

LOOK I JUST REALLY ENJOY THEIR FRIENDSHIP OK?? You can't tell me they wouldn't hang after their respective personal quests (spawn ending ofc)/emotional breakdowns over their own mortality

EDIT: I forgot to watermark these so now more than ever PLEASE don't repost

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[thatlesbiancrow]

i like to think that Ben is actually pretty good at knowing when people are lying to her, but she still just assumes they're lying for good reason and just goes along with it anyways

[anna-scribbles]

emma dupain cheng on the brain😽🎀

more:

[angelxd-3303]

The streets of Brooklyn were frigid this time of year, the only relief coming from the vents on the sides of buildings. It was beside one of these vents that Luigi waited for his brother.

Mario had told him to stay put, and keep out of sight, before trotting off to find something to eat. Luigi knew Mario was either pickpocketing or straight up stealing from stores, and he tried to swallow the guilt as he adjusted his scarf. Either way, they needed to eat. He sniffled, catching the attention of a tall woman in a puffy jacket.

"Hello, there." A voice made him jump, and he looked up at a beautiful woman with long brown hair. Her blue eyes looked him over, and Luigi felt rather self conscious. Pulling his coat closer around himself, Luigi remembered to answer.

"Hello, ma'am."

—------------------------------------------------

Pauline cooed internally; what was a little sweetheart like this doing out here all by himself? She crouched down beside him, looking him up and down. His coat was old, barely fit him, and was covered in stitches. Besides that, the bit of hair she saw peeking out from under his hat was matted and greasy, and there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek.

"Are you here by yourself?" She asked. The boy brightened, shaking his head.

"Oh, no! I'm waiting for my brother. He should be back soon." There were two? Pauline knew she had to tread lightly, if this child got spooked, he could run away. If he did, she might not be able to find his brother and get them to a shelter. She didn't know what was going on, but far be it from her to just ignore what was obviously a pair of homeless children.

"I see. Do you mind if I wait here with you? I'd love to meet your brother, since you're such a sweetheart!" She booped his nose, drawing a quiet laugh from him. Then, he frowned.

"I don't want you to get cold, though…" Pauline smiled softly, scooting closer and opening her jacket to tuck him inside.

"Don't worry, hon. I've got plenty of jacket for both of us." The young boy tensed momentarily, but relaxed at feeling the warmth emanating from her, and hugged her side. Pauline sighed, watching people pass the alley as she rubbed the shivering child's back to warm him.

In those minutes, she learned that his name was Luigi, and that his brother's name was Mario. Huh, somewhat familiar…

Before she could dwell on it too much, however, a teenage boy stormed over to them. The boy looked remarkably like Luigi, albeit much more exhausted. His eyes flitted between her and Luigi, not unlike a panicked cat.

Eager to keep things calm, Pauline offered her hand with a smile. He didn't take it.

"Hello, this little guy must be your brother, right? We've just been hanging out. I'm Pauline." The brother, Mario apparently, nodded to her, looking to Luigi. He gestured to himself, and Luigi got up. Mario immediately scooped up his little brother, giving her a suspicious look. Pauline stood up, holding her hands up.

"Hey, it's ok. There's a shelter not too far from here; if you guys need a place to stay." Luigi looked up at his brother, but Mario shook his head.

"It's alright." He said curtly. "We've got a place."

"Oh, ok…well, be safe, ok?" Before she could offer her number, the brothers disappeared into the crowd. Pauline stared in the direction they'd left in for a moment, before sighing sadly. As she continued her trek towards home, she hoped the boys were ok.

It wasn't until she got home and saw a picture of the boys in a newspaper that she realized why the pair seemed so familiar.

"Statewide hunt for missing brothers continues; last seen in downtown Brooklyn"

[bamsara]

I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'

[chloesimaginationthings]

Vanny finally meets FNAF tape girl in person...

[malinaa]

if i think about the hunger games in peeta's perspective i WILL start sobbing

[watchingwisteria]

listen there really was just something about how in the book, snow’s 3-page descent from hesitant lover boy to deluded mfer happens entirely in his mind. lucy gray gives him no indication whatsoever that she suspects him, that she’s going to leave or betray him. he’s just sitting quietly in the cabin waiting for her to return when that seed of calculated suspicion, which he has needed to survive the capitol, takes a hold of him and chokes the life out of any goodness left inside him. it really drives home your terror as a reader that “oh my god did he kill her? did she escape? what happened to her? why would he even think that?” in a way that when the movie had to adjust for visualization it lost some of that holy shit this guy has lost it emphasis.