#spm fanfic

[ohmaerieme]

my contribution to the super paper dorks discord server 'big bang' event! @ooftale helped contribute to the plot of the fic and also made an amazing illustration to compliment the fic.

enjoy!

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The question sits on his tongue on errand walks throughout the Mushroom Kingdom, quiet afternoons indoors, and on high-stakes adventures to rescue the Princess. He’ll turn to his brother, grocery list in hand, chin on his palm, victorious grin on his lips, and he’ll feel it bubble up his throat.

'What happened', he wants to ask.

...

or, Luigi deals with dying memories and irreversible change after the events of SPM.

3,605 words

[space-time-hellsite]

"Heart Without A Soul" coming soon to AO3!

What happens when Dimentio arrives chained up on Luigi's doorstep? What happens when Marx and Magolor arrive at a two dimensional dimension? What happens when a familiar crown rips Luigi's sanity to shreds?

Chapter one will release on Saturday, 11th of January, at 6:30pm GMT (1:30pm EST)!

Chapters will release weekly at the same time.

Base used for the art was made by Chazi

[chaos-love-au]

Endless love, another dimension.

[side story]

Click here to read on AO3

Warnings: just a bit sad, not beta read

Summary: After Dimentio ended Count Bleck's game, he teleported him and Tippi to Dimension D. in this pocket dimension, the Pixl meets Mimi and O'Chunks, who are determined to help.

“NO!” Tippi screamed as she and Count Bleck's lifeless body were teleported to Dimension D. “Count…?” O’Chunks ran towards the two, Mimi quickly followed. “O’Chunks? Mimi? What… what are you doing here?” Tippi flew lower, her hope draining. “Dimentio transferred us here after we found Nassy.. she was… dead…” Mimi sniffled. Chunks pat her on the back. “That's… awful….” Timpani whispered, sinking lower. “What happened to the Count?” Chunks asked, crouching down to get a better look at him. “Dimentio.. he ended his game…” Tippi finally landed on the ground. It hurt to admit it out loud, admitting Blumiere was gone. She lost the person she loved. O’Chunks’ eyes widened, “not on my watch” he grabbed Bleck and checked his pulse, “it's weak, but still there, we could get him back. We have to.” He sounded desperate, like he was trying to convince himself it was possible. “How…?” Tippi muttered. “He needs a mushroom, do you have a mushroom? Or any sort of power-up?” Mimi turned to the butterfly. “I… uh…” Tippi thought for a moment, “I do, yeah, it's Mario's but… he wouldn't mind.” She threw out a Shroom Shake. Mimi quickly grabbed it and handed it to O’Chunks, who was visibly sweating. After a few seconds, Mimi checked the Count's pulse again. A wide smile spread on her face. “It worked!” She cheered. O’Chunks let out a long relieved sigh, wiping the glimmering sweat from his face. Timpani rose into the air again, “r-really?! H-How did you-” “Chunks isn't as dumb as he looks or acts, and I was originally created as a nurse robot!” Mimi smiled, taking a few steps away from the Count. “Mimi taught me how to do this, she’s a smart gal.” Chunks smiled and got up, also letting the Count have more space. Timpani got closer, now flying in between Mimi and O'Chunks, waiting for Bleck to wake up. She was finally gaining back her hope. “Mmm… ugh…” Count Bleck’s eyes slowly opened as he rubbed his face. “Blumiere!” Tippi cheered, circling in the air, getting closer. “T-Timpani…? What… what happened?” he asked, pushing himself to sit up. “Dimentio nearly ended your game! I thought I lost you again…” the sadness in her voice was so loud. “Dimentio… why would he…” suddenly, Count Bleck straightened his back, realizing where they were. “What did he do..? No… this is wrong… this is bad..” he whispered. “Count, calm down, the heroes are there to clobber him, you’re still not fully healed, you gotta stay calm.” O’Chunks took a step closer, visibly worried for Bleck. “O’Chunks… Mimi…? What are you two doing here…? Did he hurt you?” Bleck was still a bit disoriented. “No, we’re okay. I promise.” Mimi assured him. “Where’s Nastasia?” Bleck straightened his vest. Mimi and O’Chunks looked down at their feet, knowing they failed to save her, that they arrived too late. “No…” Bleck whispered, understanding perfectly. “What do we do now…?” Tippi asked, landing in Bleck’s gloved hands. “Timpani…” Count Bleck looked down at the Pixl in his hands, realizing this is what’s left of his lover. “You’re alive…” he whispered, slowly processing everything. “So are you… We’re both alive… Together…” she relaxed her butterfly body, finally comfortable. “I’m glad you found each other, Count, you clearly care a lot about each other” Mimi placed her hands on her heart, smiling softly. “You two are perfect for each other, it's obvious.” O’Chunks teared up. “I may have not given you the attention you deserve before, but I am so endlessly grateful for both of you, and for Nastasia..” Count Bleck said with the realization that he never properly thanked his loyal minions, those that are still by his side despite the truth. The entire place flashes white. “What..?” Tippi rushes into the air again, trying to figure out what's going on. The white flash blinks again. “What's happening?!” O’Chunks grabbed onto Mimi, who was whimpering quietly. The entire place flashed white one last time. “How…?” Count Bleck’s eyes glittered from the light the pure hearts let out.

“The pure hearts? Mario used them, how are they here?” Tippi circled around them, making sure she’s seeing correctly. “Is that what Nassy said would destroy the chaos heart?” Mimi took a few steps closer, seeing the shiny hearts up close. “They're beautiful…” O’Chunks reached his hand to touch the closest one.

“I should bring those to Mario, it could help him defeat Dimentio.” Tippi collected the pure hearts. “Be careful, my Timpani.” Count Bleck tipped his hat. “I will, I promise I will.” Tippi’s wings were going up and down as fast as she could. Count Bleck teleported Tippi back to Castle Bleck, to defeat the traitor.

[dappledpaintbrush]

quick AJL!Dimentio for the soul because he is my son and he has every disease

[castiwls]

brother, brother - d.w

Paring; dean & sister!reader

Synopsis; John Winchester was never a great father but where he failed someone else stepped up

Warnings; none

Notes; this has been sitting in my drafts for ages omg

masterlist

You smiled at your brother as he appeared beside you, beers in hand. He passed one to you as he took a seat on the bonnet beside you. “Thanks.” You smiled before taking a sip. Your brother nodded before taking a sip of his own drink. 

“Remember how dad flipped the first time dad caught you drinking? Man, I think I saw fire in his eyes.” Your brother chuckled turning his head to take at you. “Oh yeah. I think that was the first time I ever faced his wrath.” You joked bumping shoulders with him. “I think I was too drunk to truly care to be completely honest.”

“You were a mess. I spent most of that night awake in case you were sick.” He shook his head. “Then you actually were sick.” He rolled his eyes. You grimaced slightly. “Please don’t remind me,” You took another sip. “Being sick on the floor in front of my younger brother was bad enough. I think I traumatised Sam that day.” 

Dean laughed. “Traumatised Sam!? It was me who had to clean it up, missy.” He exclaimed. “And I was very thankful you did.” You joked before looking out into the empty field. 

Your childhood was a touchy subject. Something which all three of you chose not to talk about unless necessary. Growing up you’d always known that your home life was less than normal, that your dad never acted in the way you saw dad’s on the TV act.

As you’d grown up you’d simply come to the conclusion that maybe John Winchester was never meant to be a dad, sure for the first two years of your life he’d played the part but even then you knew it wasn’t perfect. 

“You look like you're thinking quite hard there, you okay?” Dean bumped his shoulder with you drawing you back into the present. “I’m fine, just thinking…” You trailed off looking down at the drink in your hands. You felt your brother wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

You both fell back into a comfortable silence for a moment before you turned your head to face him “You were more of a father to me than he ever was,” You smiled at your brother “Just so you know.”

Dean pressed a kiss to your forehead before resting his head on top of yours.

[sreyeh]

something something hurt/comfort

[shadowww-bunny]

「Too much」 -S. W.

❥ Sam has never considered himself a jealous type, but when you're so carefree and close to other guys, and he's finishing his third glass of whiskey, it's hard to hold back.

❥ romance, friends to lovers, unspoken feelings

Finally, you and Sam have some free time, and you decided to relax at a local bar. Fortunately, Dean didn't bother you with his jokes and gags, because he found a hot chick, which meant that you wouldn't see him until at least tomorrow morning.

Everything was going fine until the bartender unobtrusively turned to you, and your attention switched to him. Sam didn't like it. The hunter didn't know what came over him, but the fact that you were talking to another man, and not to him, caused him annoyance and irritation. Sam couldn't shake the feeling. Maybe he understood that it was irrational and stupid, but now, after a bottle of whiskey, he didn't want to figure anything out, he just wanted your look, your laugh, your attention to belong only to him. He drummed his fingers on the table, waiting for you to remember him. Sam was a patient person, really, but here his patience lasted for a couple of minutes.

When the bartender leaned slightly towards you, Sam couldn't stand it and grabbed you by the shoulder, turning you around and biting into your lips in a kiss. You could almost feel the possessive feelings and despair coming in waves from the hunter, the taste of alcohol on his tongue, and his hand on your waist, tightly squeezing and not letting you pull away.

You just gasped in confusion, feeling a blush flood your cheeks. Sam's touch made your heart beat faster. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe something else, but you noticed how you responded to the kiss, melting into the hunter's arms.

Sam took this as an invitation, deepening the kiss, letting his tongue brush against yours. He was so needy, and he didn't even want to stop, not when he finally had a taste of what he'd been secretly craving for so long. He didn't even think about what could follow next, it was enough just to hold you close to him and feel your warm mouth.

Finally, Sam broken the kiss, leaving you breathless, and rested his forehead against yours, still clutching your waist tightly, as if afraid that you might vanish. Sam looked at you, searching for any signs that he'd gone too far, but all he found was your embarrassed look with a hint of awe, and it was enough to make his breath catch in the throat. "I.. I'm sorry," he breathed out, letting you go slowly as he realised what he had just done, the flush creeping up his cheeks.

Sam`s fingers twitching to reach out and touch you, just to make sure that moment with you was real, and not just another stupid dream. He wasn't a bold or reckless man, but he couldn't deny the feelings that had been building up in his chest, pushing him to do things he usually wouldn't have done, like kissing you in the middle of a bar.

The hunter couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to kiss you again, but all he could do was stare at you like a lovesick puppy. Sam needed to get his feelings under control, or he might do something even dumber than a sudden kiss.

He swallowed hard, his gaze falling to your parted lips again. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of all the improper thoughts that were running through his head, and instead shifted in his seat, running a hand through his hair. Sam was definitely way too drunk to handle the situation correctly, and the alcohol was now making him feel dizzy, confused, and very much aware of the warmth and tension between you.

He wanted to say 'I love you,' but those three words were too dangerous, even inside his head. Instead, Sam shifted closer and said quietly, "Uh… I'll understand if you want to hit me," he laughed nervously and looked around at the people who were still in the bar, oblivious to the emotional drama unfolding between you and him.

He knew he should look away, but the sight of you, still blushing slightly, with your lips parted, made him think that maybe, by some miracle, maybe, just maybe, you might actually have similar feelings for him. Or was he just delusional and drunk, desperate to believe that he had a chance with you?

However, the question disappeared when you leaned forward, pressing your lips to the hunter's in a gentle, deep kiss. Sam didn't hesitate anymore. He pulled you to him, almost sitting you on his lap. Sam might regret it tomorrow, but right now he was happy to lose himself in a moment that had seemed an impossible dream for so many years.

[ogdegenerate]

Cute bowuigi fic i’d like to come into existence is where luigi gets too tired of not getting to hang out with his huge koopa boyfriend due to his duties, so “Mr. L” busts in the castle and kidnaps the king. Of course, nobody -but Luigi’s very close circle- knows that Luigi and Mr. L are the same person, so the Dark Lands are understandably worried that their very powerful and horrifying ruler got abducted by some unknown assailant. meanwhile, the mushroom kingdom gets a word of this and realizes that Luigi (who would be sprinting out of the kingdom so save his boyfriend) is ALSO missing! And instead of connecting the dots, they come up with the conclusion that LUIGI HAS ALSO BEEN ABDUCTED. Peach and Mario KNOWS that there’s no real danger happening? But to quell the anxiety of the two kingdoms, Mario (with the assistance of the koopalings) sets off to save the koopa kind and his brother from this Villain that came out of nowhere.

While all of this is happening, we have Mr. L (AKA: Luigi) doing cute couple crap together with a tied up king koopa. Bowser can easily break free from these restraints and make an easy escape, but does he really want to? He has an excuse to be alone with his lover for as long as he wants, and he’s very touched (and slightly excited) of being the kidnappeed for once; to him this basically Luigi courting him.

Luigi: “You have just been captured by the green thunder, Mr. L! Try as you might, but there’s nothing you can do to escape, so you best not try any funny business!”

Bowser:

I basically want to see a fic of a total flip of the power dynamic where Luigi is trying to impress his huge monster boyfriend with his charismatic alter ego and Bowser is having too much fun being dragged along by his human “captor”, exhilarated of what Luigi had planned for him.

Bonus points if bowser jr. reveals himself as a stowaway cuz “MAMA WEEGEE FORGOT ABOUT ME! I WANTED TO BE KIDNAPPED TOO! ITS NOT FAIR!!!!”

[rotatesmymindscape]

SNIPPET FROM MY POST-SPM LUIGI FIC (TITLE PENDING)

Finally, context for this drawing

aka, Luigi doesn't 100% remember the events of spm and is Very Stressed About This

EDIT: Another snippet!

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Luigi is fine. Really, he is.

He’s fine and he’s poking a sweet cookie that was placed on his plate to remove a little weight from the dangerously-close-to-toppling tower of cookies it came from.

When Merlon said he had snacks prepared for them, he didn't think he meant this much. Plates of cookies, chocolate pasta, hot dogs, fried mushrooms, about three different kinds of cake and two kinds of tarts, parfaits, and pitchers of tea and syrup were all laid out for them to feast on. Luigi doubts they can finish even half of it, despite their party of eight.

“Eat as much as you please.” The lady – Saffron? He didn't get much time to meet anyone in the Flipside– says as she places a steaming hot bowl of spicy soup at the table’s center, “All of you must be starving after an adventure like that!”

Mario is already reaching over to grab another plateful of mushrooms but smiles back at her before continuing. Peach holds her slice of heartful cake and hums as she eats. Bowser shrugs before devouring half of a horsetail tart.

Bleck’s minions seemed to be doing the same, though O’Chunks and Mimi argued over a forkful of pasta even with the abundance of it. Nastasia was quiet, but she nodded, sipping her tea and relaxing afterwards.

On any other occasion, Luigi might have felt like he was having a nice family dinner night.

Merlon lets out a hearty laugh, “I'm sure they are, Saffron my dear. Isn't that right, Luigi?”

Luigi blinks.

He looks at Merlon, then slowly back at his cookie.

Gingerly, he picks it up, nibbling the corner of it. It’s buttery and not too sweet, crispy around the edges but still a little soft in the center. It’s perfect. He should be reveling in the flavor, he should be telling Saffron it’s the best cookie he’s ever had, he should be grabbing ten more and hauling another dozen home for him and Mario to share.

He places it back on his plate, which remained empty save for it.

“…maybe just a little.” He decides after a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence.

“Is it not to your liking?”

He shakes his head, “It’s good. I’m just…”

From Luigi’s perspective, the story goes something like this: He’s at home with Mario until he’s not; he’s at Bowser’s castle and at Bowser’s “wedding” until he isn’t; he’s in another castle trying to escape until he doesn’t; he’s presumably dead but whether that really happened or not is a mystery, and now all of reality is saved, two people go disappear forever, and everyone who remained is here eating snacks.

Okay, so there's a few things he blearily remembers in between, like their journey to the Overthere and his fight with Dimentio, but the rest is just about lost to the slurry of his addled mind.

From the way he’s been dragged around, it’s all lasted maybe a few days for him at most. For everyone else, it seemed closer to a month based on their discussions between forkfuls. That definitely knocked him off kilter.

And, well, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge that in those final moments, he was aware of being mind-controlled. He remembers being fused with the same heart he tried to destroy and a jester who just finished trying to kill him, and he remembers how it felt when he couldn’t control himself as he tried to hurt everyone else.

The worst part, really, is that he knows he hurt them. He knows something bad happened, that he became something willing to decimate everything in its path, but what exactly happened and what exactly he became was completely lost to him.

He was somehow aware and not at the same time, as if a part of him kept shutting off his memory right before the most important parts, leaving him with nothing but brief visions of his attempts to kill his companions.

It’s not much, but whatever is there for him to recall is gut churning enough that he’s been avoiding making any effort to interact with any of them.

He tries his best to ignore the way Bowser only uses one arm to eat everything, vaguely recalling the way he fell when a homing attack hit him while he scaled the floating blocks, arms flailing as he tried to protect the rest of his body from further injury.

He can’t look Peach in the eye when she glances at him, her normally clean dress ripped to shreds in some spots, revealing a few hastily bandaged cuts from when the small yet sharp spinning blocks sliced through her.

And he certainly does not want to think about how heavily bruised Mario’s face is on one side, which came from his new form connecting its fist with his brother. The left side of his face was nothing but an angry red that made Luigi wince just thinking about it.

If things had gone just a bit wrong, a lot of people, especially some of the ones he loves most in the world, could be long dead.

The cookie slips from his hand and falls back to his plate with a clink!

Forget being a little hungry, he’s not hungry at all.

They all turn to look at him as he pushes his chair back with enough force to make it screech like fingers across a chalkboard. He grits his teeth from it.

“Is everything alright, Luigi?” Peach asks, placing her plate back on the table, eyebrows furrowed.

He could barely process the way his hands shook and his body stayed ramrod straight. He swallows the lump in his throat.

“…Yeah. O-Okey-dokey.” He feels sweat beginning to form on his face, “I’m not hungry. So, I’m…I’ll go for a walk instead.”

Merlon, even with his beard and hood covering most of his, is able to mimic Peach's look of concern, “Are you sure? I assume you haven’t eaten much these past few days.”

Luigi nods, but it feels more like his head just shook up and down violently, “I, ah, feel a little dizzy from…all of everything. Fresh air sounds good.”

He can’t think of more excuses to make, so he hurries out the door before anyone can protest.

When the door closes (slams) behind him, he lets out a sigh. Not the most elegant exit, but it will do. He suddenly feels like he’s gone and drank too much coffee, all jittery and nervous like he’s moments away from a caffeine crash. He needs to burn it off, take a few breaths, and avoid eye contact until he feels less inclined to run away.

His memory fails to supply the reason as to why he’s so riled up. While hurting the people he cares for is enough to make him faint from horror, something about his reaction was…even worse. He was forgetting more important incidents that made his nerves taut and his throat shut.

There were a few unexplained injuries on himself that might clue him in on those incidents. A minor electrical burn and a laceration on his hand that he, distantly, knew once had a few glass shards embedded in it were on their way to healing. A couple of rusty screws and a broken screwdriver were in his pocket when he woke up in the Underwhere, so he might have been tinkering with something electric?

There’s also the burns here and there on his body, all still too fresh to not be less than a day old. He can’t even begin to guess where those came from.

And his head ached much more than some of the worse migraines he’s ever had. It was like someone grabbed a hammer, hit him with it, and only made sure to stop short of cracking it open.

To top it all off, his legs faintly felt like there were pins and needles, too.

He’s been tired before. Exhausted, even. But whatever happened in that barely remembered month has left his system in all kinds of wack. He dreads to think about what could have happened to him.

His moment of stress-filled contemplation is broken by the sound of Saffron’s door opening. He already knows who it is, and as relieved as he is to know he’s okay, he really doesn’t want to talk to him right now.

Mario is quiet as he pushes the door shut, a bag full of cookies held in one hand. He offers Luigi a small smile.

“For you.” Mario says, waving the bag in front of Luigi, “You can go on your walk, but I’m sure you’ll be hungry.”

Luigi shakes his head, “No need, bro. I’m really not.”

His older brother frowns, and Luigi feels the guilt make his chest twinge, “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Beats me.” Luigi answers almost instantly. With how little he remembers, he couldn’t tell if he ever ate during any of it. He grimaces when he sees Mario’s frown deepen. That was definitely not the answer his brother was hoping to hear.

“Maybe I should ask Saffron to make something other than snacks…” Mario contemplates.

Luigi reaches for Mario’s arm, maybe to push the bag back to him or to hang it, but his second of contact makes Mario retract his arm so quickly that Luigi flinches.

Mario lightly rests his free arm on top of his other arm, snapping his eyes shut as he hisses in pain.

Something cracks, another murky memory resurfaces - darkness, a heavy swing, a violent crack - and then something horrific clicks.

Luigi holds back the urge to scream it out loud.

The bruises aren’t just on his face. The hit connected with Mario's entire body.

Now much closer to each other, he can’t stop thinking about how uncomfortable it must be for Mario to smile at him when most of his face and body must be aching something fierce.

He should be fussing over Mario and making sure he’s okay, Luigi thinks to himself, just like Mario would for him.

He takes a step back, and then another, and then another one. Mario opens his eyes and Grambi he looks so worried.

Luigi’s voice breaks, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

“Luigi, it’s–”

Luigi turns around, and runs away.

The bag of cookies, now on the ground, was left forgotten.

[ohmaerieme]

tethered.

544 words, a short little oneshot about the chaos heart and luigi, and his unfortunate amnesia of it.

---

Exhaustion seeps through his bones when he finally falls unto his mattress, darkness of sleep quickly swimming behind his eyelids.

It’s the kind of exhaustion that’s clung to him since he awoke from that strange blacking out at Dimentio’s- and how the name sends shivers to his spine- beck and call. An attempt to weaken the good guys and give himself a winning chance, Luigi assumes.

But he dwells on that no longer- a smile graces his lips as he succumbs to sleep, never more grateful for a bed and a moon to shine through the window than ever. Tomorrow he and his brother will go to Peach’s castle, enjoy a celebratory cake, and enjoy the lovely, lovely calm after such a storm.

But for now, tonight, he lets himself dream- a treat after being left unconscious so many times through their journey.

His blanket softer than ever, his pillow plush and comfy, Luigi easily falls into a deep sleep.

…

..

.

Luigi opens his eyes to a darkness that seeps into his veins, wraps around his lungs and whispers around his frantically beating heart.  The once-comforting pull of a deep sleep now heavy in his bones makes him panic, weighing him down to the frightening presence.

What he sees around him are hues of blacks and grays, pulsing about his vision- alive. It dances about, smooth as water and heavy as rain.

But something about the way his vision swims, the manner of this heaviness he feels, the crawling of the darkness around him… It’s familiar, in a way, and he cannot shake the feeling he’s had this dream before. And he is dreaming, he knows this to be true, just as he knows he cannot breathe here, nor can he move.

The presence does not speak. It cannot, for it has no shape, no form to mouth words- but it feels. And Luigi feels it too, bleeding into him, solid enough that he could hold it in his hands. It sings of return, ripples through the darkness that echo within his own heart.

You are limitless, it muses through him, incomprehensible. As am I.

“Nightmare,” Luigi tries to whisper out, reminding himself. His voice reaches no one's ears but his own.

I am no nightmare, it denies. I have ceased to exist. All but for one tether.

The darkness stretches, the infinite space Luigi’s found himself in feeling cramped, as if held tightly together in a little box.

A flicker of white sprints through the darkness, and as his eyes follow it, he takes sight of his hands, laid against his sides. His body is swallowed by shadow, but one thing stands out starkly in the nothingness.

His hands are gloved in black, white stitching its edges and little stars dangling from the sleeves of them. A ringing sound burns through his head, the creeping imagery of a plant of all things itching at his skull.

The image fades as quickly as it sprouts, the emptiness around him filling that block. He wrenches his gaze upwards, the dark curiously watching all around him, calculating.

This dream will pass, as all dreams do. He just has to wake up.

Wake up, the emptiness echoes, almost mockingly. Its swaying hues of night almost emulate familiar laughter.

---

[space-time-hellsite]

New L system one shot is OUT!!

In this part, the system handles a new headmate, but she's different from what they expected.

Read it on AO3!

[lucyav13]

Mournful

(Pic credit to the original author, I just drew on it)

Blumiere walks in the darkness. Alone. In his mind, there is no record of how far he has traveled. The steam rising from his exhalations unsettles him. He wishes he didn't see it, for it’s a reminder of how fragile life often is.

He continues in a straight line. He doesn't bother floating, the crunch of his footsteps under the thick snow fills him with an inexplicable feeling. He has no destination in mind. No homeland to return to, apparently. No desire to do anything but walk and search.

His tangled thoughts whisper contradictory things to him. He hasn't had a defined  path in a long time. And that's okay, or so he thinks. 

Try as he might, his mind returns again and again to a lifeless point in his life: the last conversation he had with his father and the argument it sparked.

“Timpani! What did you do with her? I must see her!”

“Still your tongue Blumiere… Can’t you see you’ve been duped by a dirty human?”

“You have brought shame to my name… and to the entire Tribe of darkness!”

“And so what if I did? That doesn't matter to me! She’s my entire world.”

“Well, then it will interest you to know… that she no longer resides in this world.”

“What… what do you mean by that!?”

“This is the price those who resist their own fate must pay, my son.”

“She… No… It can’t be so!”

“Someday you will see, son. Our kind and humans must never mix.”

He left the castle in search of one last hope, one last longing, one last wish. Win her back. He promised Grambi that he would use his last strength, his last remnants of sanity, to hold her safely in his arms again.

He had no intention of returning to that inhospitable place, brimful with bitter memories that now seemed alien to him.

That desolate night, he suffered a fit of rage. In despair he didn't look back. From then on, only his ghost accompanied him. The ghost of himself, who once loved, who once had been completely satisfied with.

His footsteps, sinking into the earth, fulfill his immaculate boots with tiny snowflakes, which melted to the sound of the heat emanating from his body.

As a member of the Tribe of Darkness, he’s cold by nature, but Timpani had inexplicably created an intense glow deep within his chest.

Timpani.

He savored every letter of that name that had cursed and blessed him at the same time.

Timpani.

Suddenly, his fragile mind was filled with unexpected moments.

Her voice, the scent of her hair, her laughter. Damn, her laughter was as beautiful and melodious as a sonata fading in the wind. The memory of her weakened him, yet at the same time it strengthened him, made him bold.

Loving and caring for her didn't make him feel agony or loss. Only a shining light.

Now, completely alone and separated from the prestigious society in which he had lived an eternal lie, he feared losing her. It was somewhat ironic, because he no longer felt her in his hands, but his fear extended to losing the sweet memories they had shared, to losing that part of himself that had been strangely happy.

When he left the tribe, there was only frustration and anger in his heart. He hadn't spoken a real word since that fateful night.

In the solitude of the night blanket that enveloped him, he felt nothing. It was as if his feelings were slowly fading away, reduced to ashes.

He had refused to feel anything but melancholy, grief, sadness, or a hint of loneliness.

Curiously, loneliness was the only thing that accompanied him. It's redundant because he doesn't crave it, but he accepts it with a grimace of indifference.

If he declared the idyllic future he had dreamed of with her among the trees as they cast a growing shadow over him, it would sound too unreal.

His feet didn't stop when he ended up in the middle of a stone bridge that separates a village from the hostile environment outside.

The streetlights barely illuminate the entrance. Without guards or security guards, they claim not to fear the threats of the night or armed robbers.

He brushes off the traces of snow and apathy he was carrying. His fingers trembled.

He takes the liberty of taking a stroll through the village. After two months of travel, he has come to the conclusion that all human communities are identical.

The inhabitants live carefree, surrounded by perfect peace.

They don't worry about following rules, attracting too much attention, or filling obligations within the tribe, maintaining an upright attitude and without reproach.

None of that. They breathe, exhale, and enjoy affection in its purest form. They demonstrate how much they love each other among neighbors, family, friends, and partners.

Blumiere had been deprived of all that. Of the experiences that make him… human.

And they felt something more than deep respect and admiration. They are authentic. Of the last shred of sincerity that existed in his ineffable being.

He keeps his frivolous hands buried in his pockets. The townspeople have disappeared from the streets.

The clock in the square chimes midnight with a soft peal.

It seems the nighttime town is almost as lonely as he is.

He approaches the first inn he comes across. As he passes through the door, the warm air relaxes his tense muscles.

He squints, focusing his gaze to adjust to the light, until he finds himself standing in front of the counter.

"Good evening. What brings you here?" A man with bushy eyebrows tries to make eye contact.

"I want a single room for tonight only." He murmured without taking his eyes off the floor.

"Sure," the man's expression turned to disappointment when he saw the exact amount of coins scattered in front of him. "An employee will escort you to your room. Breakfast is included and is served at dawn. Any questions or suggestions will be addressed here at the front desk. Enjoy your stay."

The man in blue left without a word. He waited patiently at the foot of the stairs. A moment later, a middle-aged woman appeared at his side.

"Want to join me?" she invited, still smiling. He followed her up two floors, the fresh scent of wood filling his nose. They stopped in front of a door with a number he didn't recognize.

"This is your room," she took a key from his keyring and inserted it into the lock. "The bathroom is at the end of the hall. If you need anything, ring the bell on the powder room door and I'll be there shortly. Have a good night."

He nodded in acknowledgment, and when the woman left him in privacy, he pushed the door open with his cane and entered the bedroom.

The room was simple and humble: two beds, a carpeted floor, and an oil lamp tucked into a corner. It would do for tonight.

He placed his top hat on the nightstand. He let out a long sigh before burying his cheeks in the sheets, scented with the aroma of flowers and broken dreams.

Two months since her departure, and it still hurt like the first nightfall.

The flame of hope in his heart was slowly fading. Despite the disappointment of the situation, he would continue to cling to the remote possibility of seeing her again.

Early in the morning, he left, leaving no trace of his inner torment in that remote and hospitable place.

There were no goodbyes. No crossed words. Only silence.

It seemed that deafening noise would haunt him for the rest of his miserable life.

He was so lost in his despair that he completely forgot to ask them about such a kind and unforgettable human girl.

It would be enough to question one or two citizens, and he’d continue his search.

Several men were already leaving their houses, saying goodbye to their wives and children, who had gotten up early to go to school.

He scoffed. No one could have been so cheerful on such a cold day. Yet now, the sun was illuminating the treetops. The light filtered through the branches and leaves, filling the village with a dazzling glow, a stark contrast to the purity of the snow.

He pulled his hat tighter, his expression hardening.

On the other side of the bridge, an old man was selflessly collecting firewood.

Blumiere decided to approach. A couple of questions, and he’d be forever deprived of the joy that emanated from the small village.

"Good morning, sir," the old man greeted him, taking off his hat. The member of the tribe of darkness shared the gesture. "What are you doing in this little town?"

Apparently, no one could think of any reason why a man from the tribe of darkness would stay in an ordinary human village.

"I'm just passing through," he replied tersely. "Have you seen a young woman in her twenties, with brown hair, wearing a dress, and has a giant smile?"

"There are many, but at the same time, few women with those characteristics," the old man explained, still in his gentle tone. "But the one you're looking for is unique in the world, isn't she?"

Blumiere's gaze softened. His silence gave the old man his answer.

"If so, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I haven't heard from any young woman like the one you describe. I'm sorry, lad," the man informed him, leaning on his shovel. "You're always welcome here. And I hope you find what you're looking for."

The old man extended his hand, but the blue-skinned boy quickly walked away, without a word.

Another village he crossed off his list.

With their departure, a hundred gray clouds approached the village, leaving behind an aura of hopelessness.

Immense in the luminosity of the forest, he groaned inwardly. He didn't know how long his search would last.

How he longs to hold a photo in his gloved hands, a tangible reminder of what his beloved once was. It would be daunting, if not for his heart's unreliable expectations. Hopefully, his heart doesn't fail to keep its promises.

Snow falls from the trees with the roar of the wind. Winter will soon arrive. Frivolous, dark, and daunting. He used to identify with autumn; brimming with soothing colors and calm, almost predictable weather.

Timpani were identified with spring, which would obviously explain her pleasant, optimistic, and energetic personality.

He still treasures her sweet smile when he paid her a compliment, her freckles adorning her tanned skin. The impromptu dances under a tree of fallen leaves to a made-up melody hidden in their minds.

Today he’s winter, and she is a paradise hidden in an endless desert. Desolate, tedious, and repetitive.

He would cross hills, valleys, rivers, mountains for her. But the real question is: Would his search yield any results?

A withered flower appeared on the side of his path. His heart was instantly moved. He crouched beside it, examining it with great attention and gently stroking its fallen petals.

"The beauty of the world comes from how you see it." It was one of the lessons Timpani taught him.

He wished he hadn't lost her, along with that beautiful vision of the world he had, which they later shared.

The pain of loss is always crushing. Always.

Finally, he plucked the flower and cast it into a grave of inhospitable snow that suddenly appeared around him. He would no longer prolong its bitter agony.

Blumiere sometimes wishes he could do the same with his own life: to give up a fateful hope and free himself from all resentment. But his persistent purpose kept him afloat.

He moved forward, step by step. Unintentionally, small, treacherous tears trickled down his cheeks. He would have to continue his search. Perhaps it would last a few days, a few months, or a few years.

He had only one certainty: he misses her a lot.

Perhaps he would live like this, condemned for the rest of his life: filled with sadness.

[spmthemanga]

Another small ‘news’ update…

I finally got my AO3 account approved! I’m not writing much fanfic currently aside from the manga, but I will be uploading my old works there in the coming days, including my long comedy series Castle Bleck Craziness (which I highly recommend to the SPM crowd if you want a laugh), as well as my full novelizations of Luigi’s Mansion and Super Mario Sunshine!

Castle Bleck Craziness here!

[celestialpaperhaze]

Okay so for those of you curious, the "OC" who I have been spinning around in my head for awhile is actually a character from The New Void. (SPM x TOK crossover for anyone viewing this who has no idea what that is). Fürst's apprentice!

I think the most content I ever posted of him was the New Void short story "Prognosticus" and the massive lore dump in chapter 15. But basically, I have him tied to a lot of the more ambiguous Ancient lore from Super Paper Mario, specifically the 3000 years ago era. And he may have (accidentally) written the Dark Prognosticus! That's the short version! The long version is...very long.

Reasons I haven't lore-dumped about the apprentice yet:

I finished with The New Void so long ago that I don't really know how to revive it or segue into the apprentice lore.

The apprentice has undergone so much development that I'm not even sure how deeply the lore's tied to that story anymore.

I have a VERY hard time fleshing out details, which means figuring out both the nuances of Ancient SPM lore and the apprentice's entire lore is a little bit difficult.

That said I do want to try talking more about him sometime, I just have to figure out where and how to start!

[jelly-drawz-n-gamez]

Sorry for the delay butttt, it’s out! 

Here’s my (kinda old) Super Paper Mario fic! And of course it’s about Mimi lol. There’s 22 chapters / entries that are pretty short, so it’s not a long read or anything. Btw, anyone can read it, even guests! 

Enjoy :)

[chaos-love-au]

Part 4 is out on AO3!!

Dimentio continues with his plan, he will get Mr. L back, no matter the cost.