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[tothesuuuun]

tethered.

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

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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.

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Out of Touch

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luigi being psychic 

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guy that can't watch futurama because he gets so angry that he punches the screen and bites his own hand when they're mean to zoidberg

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style savvy game but instead of dressing up those other girls you’re dressing up mario

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I don’t know why I made this

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So this movie basically

ok so i have weird dreams when i’m sick and i just dreamt that nintendo confirmed that mario and luigi were conjoined twins at birth and now they can read each others thoughts because of that?? and it was the basis of the next mario game. like mario and luigi would come across a goomba so mario thinks “kill that guy” to luigi and luigi thinks “ok” and kills that guy

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You can only REBLOG THIS TODAY

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Aaah this is so good!

Whumptober Salvage: Episode 3

Well, I'm back. Finally. More life happened in the past week-and-a-half than I had planned for, but here we are!

Today's theme: Restraints

Today's author commentary: The concept of Luigi [redacted due to story spoilers] is something I got from a fic I read a while ago on fanfiction.net whose name I absolutely cannot recall at the moment. But I love fallout fics like this and it's not an impossible consequence of the events of SPM if things had gone in a certain direction.

Warnings: No real warnings here, I'm just excited about this one :D

Index: Episode 1; Episode 2

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It’s good hardware. Great hardware, even. 

Tensile strength? Check. Double check that, he corrects himself with a grimace, pulling at the twin sets of heavy shackles around his wrists and ankles.

The yield strength was high. High enough, he couldn’t even begin to calculate an exact number. (Liar, the voice in the back of his mind corrects. You can’t concentrate on calculating an exact number.)

To reach the malleability threshold must have required something beyond simple fire. Lava would have been his first guess, but he doubts these restraints are a product of the Darklands. Use of an electric current was a feasible concept - maybe - but it would have necessitated one hell of a resistor to produce the heat required to bend this kind of metal into a proper restraint. 

This leaves a few less palatable options. 

The temperature inside a star would certainly get the job done. But he only knew of one person with even the slightest hope of developing a technology to harness the cosmos in that manner, and Luigi has to believe, for his own sanity, that E. Gadd has no involvement with his current predicament. 

Unfortunately, this leaves magic as the only other viable option.

Luigi grits his teeth, absently running his fingers over the cool, smooth surface of the heavy cuffs. No. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t. It had been outlawed years ago, far before he had landed in this strange world. They would have had to strike some kind of deal with the enemy, or spend more coins than he could imagine to acquire this level of restraint. And why did they even have these on hand in the first place? How could they have possibly known - 

After everything. Everything he’s done for them. 

He’s been kidnapped. Tied up and thrown in a dungeon. Has been bruised, burned, cut, and broken in seventeen different ways. Has been manacled, trussed, bound, caged, buried, boxed, restrained, surrounded.

And it was supposed to be that way, alright? It was all part of being a hero.

Luigi plays at the long chains falling from his wrists, a line of solid, squarish links extending back to a thick, leather belt secured around his waist. 

He hadn’t wanted to be a hero. Swooping in and saving the day, getting the pretty girl, marching in parades and receive=ing accolades from a grateful population. It wasn't...him.

No, he had never wanted to be that person.

But was it so wrong to want to be seen as an equal?

He sags against a cold, stone wall with a hoarse sigh, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, his fingers digging into the soft collagen of his eyeballs. The movement produces a percussive, dullen ripple as the chains linked to his wrists fall over another, doubled lines of looping metal drooping from his midline to his shackled ankles.

I guess it was. He huffs out a hollow laugh at the thought, picking up one of the chains, inspecting the dense links at eye level.

There was an art to welding. Not the same kind of art those kids over at LaGuardia used to pump out at all hours of the night - weird, insectile sculptures whose disjointed end result of legs and limbs and tentacles mashed onto a misshapen thorax resembled a creature out of Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory. 

No, the art in welding came from the marriage of form and purpose, in the perfectly rounded curve of a plate face, in the smooth aerodynamics that resulted from a nearly seamless, but unbreakable fusion of two disparate materials.

The art was in the flight of a machine never meant to fly, in a silohoutte never meant to be replicated in such vicious form.

Luigi pulls at either end of the metal links. Whoever had forged these chains knew what they were doing.

The only thing he can’t quite wrap his head around is the belt. Not that a belt in itself was a confusing item. He’s worn belts almost his entire life, a constant war with drooping pants and scolding family. You should eat more. You’re too skinny. You look like a girl. You’re going to get your ass kicked one of these days if you’re not careful.

Sure, he knows about belts. He’s a plumber, right?

And there's nothing too odd about the one he wears now, save the enormous engraved buckle sitting right below his belly button, the nexus point of the chained tentacles unfurling to the four endpoints of his wrists and ankles.

He was told it was meant to bind his magic.

A dark chuckle vibrates beneath his sternum.

Magic. A ludicrous thought.

Magic isn't real. 

And I couldn’t pull a rabbit out of a hat if I tried.

A heavy door squeals open on the opposite side of the dark chamber. A short, robed figure enters first, followed by two familiar beings of similar height. The guards, who he’s nicknamed “Click and Clack,” (a memory of slow, sultry summer days, his too-long legs dangling off the rusted metal of a fire escape, the crackling static of his little radio fighting against the tortured grumbles of the nearby D train) take their usual places on either side of him, their domed heads only reaching as far as his mid-tricep, their pointed, well-honed spears towering tall above Luigi’s own head.

The third visitor is one he’s not seen before, his long, embroidered robes pooling in eddies of velvet at his feet. He spares a single, disgusted look in Luigi’s direction as he pushes a pair of little, round glasses up his nose.

“It’s time,” he says.

Click and Clack take him roughly by either arm, their odd little entourage an awkward three-legged race in slow motion, the trio limping behind the robed being, who has turned back towards the open door, his steps solemn, measured.

This is it, Luigi thinks, his gut churning.

There will be an audience, for certain. Beings who will be all but salivating to witness him dragged into the light, shackled and accused. 

He used to think he knew where the line was, that unshakable boundary between enemy and ally. 

He realizes now that perhaps that line never existed at all, or if it did, it only served to separate him from everyone else.

The light of the interior chamber is harsh, too bright to be natural. Luigi squints his eyes, letting his head drop towards the floor as he’s led through a deluge of camera shutter clicks that sound like the wings of a thousand frenetic cicadas, past the murmuring tributaries of whispered accusation and barely-shrouded invective. 

He can feel their eyes on him, all of them. As Luigi approaches a bare, wooden seat, he senses his gaze, a thousand unspoken words in an unmet, silent question. Luigi tenses his shoulders, making for the stripped down chair that is both the source of his salvation and damnation. There’s no threat, no promise in this universe or any other which could convince him to answer back, to meet that too-familiar pair of azure eyes.

You let this happen.

The next moments pass in a blur. He sits, then stands again at the prompting of Clack (or is it Click?), who remains steadfast at his flank. Finally, he sits one last time as a low, sonorous voice to his left produces a slurry river of speech.

“...your duty today…”

“...beyond a reasonable doubt…”

“...the defendant must be found…”

Reality crystallizes around him in one horrifying, frozen moment.

This is really happening.

“Ms. Shiitake, what is today’s case?” the severe-looking Toad judge asks.

A stout, female Toad in a drab olive uniform steps forward, clipboard in hand. For a brief moment, her image is overlaid by another, beige skin darkening into a periwinkle shadow crowned in a bun-topped fuschia. 

Luigi shakes his head, trying to bring his focus back to the room. 

“Your Honor,” she begins in a bored monotone, “today’s case is The Mushroom Kingdom versus Luigi Marionetti.”

“And what are the charges?”

Nothing. I didn’t do anything!

“High treason and crimes against the state as they relate to the events of the appearance of the Void, the Chaos Heart, and Mr. Marionetti’s actions taken against representatives of the Mushroom Kingdom, which include, but are not limited to, attempted murder of our head of state.”

A wave of discontented grumbling washes over the packed courtroom, a young Toad in the back climbing onto his chair, pointing at Luigi with a fiery gesture.

“Traitor!” he yells before being pulled back into his seat by a small gang of nearby onlookers.

“Order!” The judge raps his gavel three times in sharp succession. 

Luigi swallows over a swollen lump in his throat. Please. I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me. I didn’t want to hurt anybody.

“Is the prosecution ready?” the judge asks. 

“Yes, your Honor,” a sharp-suited Toad in red replies as she stands.

Are you so sure of that, the other gravelly voice in his head retorts, an inverted mirror of his own.

The judge turns to the other side of the room. “And is the defense ready?”

Another Toad in a black suit and purple tie stands, fixing Luigi with an inscrutable look before answering, “Yes, your Honor.”

I don’t…I can’t…I don’t know what happened.

“Then the prosecution may proceed.”

Yes, the dark voice chuckles. Yes, you do.

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It seems like a structure that, if you look at it from any other angle, it will give you a nosebleed. 10/10

A boy next to Edmund’s Dolmen, Cornwall. The prehistoric megalith captivated many with its impossible geometry and it quickly became a local attraction.

Its structure was unfortunately unstable, and it fell apart in 1936 after years of damage from tourists.

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smbw talking flowers i love y’all <3

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Mario is just a sweet guy who likes his friends and family and taking very cold showers. He’s not a mean person, Mario is a bundle of sunshine and warmth wherever he goes

favorite mario character being mario is so sad bc everyone is so mean to him and they think theyre cool and different for being mean to mario but theyre not theyre just mean but its ok bc mario loves u even if u dont love him

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They’re such big guys now

Happy birthday to these two bois!

I assume October 11 is correct pfft.

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▼ - childhood headcanon Mario and Luigi

Link to Post

There was a worry when Mario and Luigi didn’t make sounds like they were supposed to when they were babies. You know, the incoherent babbling that’s just baby talk. 

With Luigi, it made sense as he was constantly sick and didn’t really have a lot of energy to really do…much of anything. But for Mario, no one could figure out what was happening. Mom and Dad did everything they could think of. Pretending to have a conversation with Mario (only to have it be very one sided) to even making random noises themselves. Nothing worked.

There was a worry that perhaps Mario was deaf, only for that to be dropped when he jumped hearing a plate being dropped. After that, everyone was just confused as to what could possibly be wrong. 

Only for the answer to arrive when Mario got to visit Luigi in the hospital for the first time. Once they laid eyes on each other, both twins started babbling happily/loudly to each other. 

“Guess they just needed better company,” One doctor casually commented.