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silenzahra · 7 days

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Luigi the Bookworm 📚✨

Today, April 23rd, we celebrate Book Day in Spain with a beautiful tradition: gifting books and roses. In the past few months, I've started to see Luigi, my favorite Mario character, as a bookworm, thanks to some art pieces like this one, by Mikis_art94 on Instagram, and this one, a short comic by Sarahsketckesluigi, also on Instagram.

And, since I'm also a bookworm myself, I thought of celebrating this day by sharing with you my own take on Luigi's bookish side 🤭 Warning: this is gonna be LONG, so make sure to grab some drinks and snacks and make yourselves comfortable! 💖

(Also, I may go and turn some of these into actual fanfics at some point because, well... I got myself inspired 👀🤭✨)

Please go and check this amazing post by @itsavee4117! It's a companion to this one and you can see many of my headcanons illustrated in his lovely art style!!! 📚💖

@bberetd @vulpixfairy1985 @peaches2217 @nuctoria @keakruiser

@pepperycar @kelbreyworshipper @roscolate and anyone else who might be interested: I hope you enjoy! Happy Book Day! 📚🥀✨

Part 1: Luigi's Bookish Side

Luigi is a person who tends to get excited easily, and when he does, he experiences those feelings with great intensity. This applies to all aspects of his life, and reading, one of his greatest passions, is no exception.

In terms of genres, Luigi is generally open to read anything. He enjoys realistic novels, historical novels, classic novels, mystery novels, sci-fi novels... And he also reads books about gardening, cooking, baking and mechanics from time to time. The only things he’s unable to consume are thrillers and horror. He's tried, but, with all the times he's had to face King Boo, he's had more than enough terror and frights to last him a lifetime, thank you very much.

His favorite genres are fantasy and romance. The former, because traveling to made-up worlds allows him to forget about his real-life problems and offers him an escape from his daily life, which can often be exhausting. The second, because he’s a complete romantic who loves to see people loving each other and living happily ever after. And also... because of something that has to do with Daisy.

Luigi lives every book he reads with the same intensity. For him, it's as if the characters really existed, as if they were his friends, people he can talk to, share common interests with, and also help to achieve their purposes in life (i.e. in the books they’re from).

And maybe... just maybe... he's fallen in love more than once while reading and now he has a loooong list of literary crushes thet only keeps growing.

So, when he’s reading, Luigi laughs with the characters, cries when one of them suffers or dies, his heart tearing in his chest, and is deeply moved every time a tender moment occurs, such as a kiss, a hug or a cute scene involving, for example, a baby or an animal.

His favorite stories are those about siblings. Not only because he enjoys reading family stories, but also because, without even thinking about it, he often finds it easy to put himself in the place of the younger sibling. For him, therefore, it’s as if he were reading a story starring himself and his beloved brother Mario, and he loves to imagine that they’re going on adventures together in an unknown world. Almost like when they first arrived in the Mushroom Kingdom.

Over the years, Luigi has gathered quite a collection of books, so Mario, the moment they move into the little house in the Mushroom Kingdom that Peach offered them, doesn't hesitate to suggest to his brother that he use the extra room to build himself a small library. Luigi is not too sure at first, thinking that maybe his brother would like to have an office, but Mario insists.

So Luigi has a small library in his new home, which he soon fills to the top with books, and it’s his pride and joy. He and Mario assembled the bookshelves together, which they brought all the way from Brooklyn, and now Luigi has a wonderful reading nook where he can isolate himself to let his imagination run wild for hours. It is, along with the bedroom he shares with Mario, his favorite room in the whole house.

For Luigi, reading is something so important, meaningful and almost sacred in his life, that he has a whole ritual that he performs every time he sits down to read. He has a rocking chair in his small library, a present from his brother when they moved to live in the Mushroom Kingdom, and he has it placed right next to the window and in front of the fireplace. He likes to be able to see the sky when he looks up from his reading, and he usually stares at the clouds or the stars while he daydreams about or reflects on what he has just read. During the summer, he usually keeps it open, as he loves to read in natural light while the gentle breeze from Peach's land cools him, and in winter he keeps it firmly closed while the fireplace warms him.

Luigi loves to light a scented candle to help him get in the perfect mood for reading. His favorite scent is vanilla, as it reminds him of his favorite princess, but he also loves lavender and cinnamon. He usually makes himself a hot drink, sometimes tea, sometimes chocolate, and brings a nice blanket to warm up, which is why his favorite time to read is the coldest time of the year, especially autumn. He also prepares his set of post-its to mark his favorite sentences and parts of the book, and he has a ritual for colors too: yellow for funny moments, blue for sentences that make him reflect on them, red or pink for romantic scenes…

Luigi knows that there are many people who write directly in their books, but, for him, that is unthinkable. He sees books as a valuable and precious object, a repository of stories that helps him disconnect from reality and let his imagination run wild. He respects what everyone does with their books, but he’s simply incapable. Especially if it’s a book he has been given as a gift.

His favorite copies are hardcover, even more so if they include a dust jacket. He treasures all his books with the same affection, but those are undoubtedly his weak point. The most precious of all is a hardcover, dust-jacketed edition of his favorite book, which was a present from Mario, and which also has painted edges.

Usually, when it's time to read, Mario is either napping, spending quality time with Peach, or doing something else around the house. Polterpup, on the other hand, takes the opportunity to approach his owner and, if it's summer, lie at his feet while he reads. If it's winter, however, Polterpup will jump into Luigi's lap without his permission and cuddle up and fall asleep immediately, before Luigi even has time to recover from the fright and resume reading. (Check out @pepperycar's funny addition to this!)

Luigi is a speed reader. Usually, when he starts reading, he doesn't intend to go too fast. It's just that, after so many years reading, his eyes have acquired an astonishing speed, and he’s able to retain every word in his head despite going through them very quickly. Also, if a book really hooks him, he’s unable to put it down until he finishes it, which has caused him to stay up late several nights and go to work half asleep the next day, but it's always totally worth it. Because of this ability, he can finish books of about 300-400 pages in just a few hours, and sometimes also 500 if he gets caught up completely.

Luigi LOVES to buy books. His favorite visits are to Sarasaland and the bookstore, and he also does a lot of online shopping to support small publishers. Every time a new book comes home, he gets excited as if it's the first time, and always asks Mario to please record him while he's unboxing it. Mario unhesitatingly stands on the other side of the camera and makes sure that every shot is perfect and that the book looks great, and Luigi, delighted and grateful, always gives him the tightest and most spontaneous hugs every time they finish filming.

And, of course, once he has the book in his hands, Luigi squeals and kicks, excited, as he waves it in the air like maracas before hugging it tightly to his chest. And, when the book is a present from someone dear to him, he acts exactly the same, only he ends up crying and thanking again and again the person who gave it to him while, again, he presses the book against himself as if his life depended on it.

Luigi is VERY much a fan of merchandising. He loves collecting bookmarks, he has such a huge collection that he's had to divide it into several drawers, and every time he’s going to start a new reading, he tends to spend more time deciding which bookmark will be the most suitable than choosing the book itself. He’s also bought a few literary stickers and some printed works of his favorite books, like fanarts of different scenes or characters illustrated by various artists, which he's hung on a corkboard. And, of course, since his books are the most precious thing he has, he’s also bought many literary covers from different small artists' stores, so that he can keep his books well protected when he carries them around.

Luigi is the kind of person who takes a book with him everywhere. A doctor's appointment? Book in backpack in case the wait gets longer. Public transport? He can't think of a better way to spend it than reading. He even takes them with him when he meets up with Mario, Peach and Toad, just in case his brother and the princess get lovey-dovey, and Toad falls asleep. And, if there's one thing Luigi likes better than sleeping in nature, it's reading in nature.

Part 2: The Reader Brother

Luigi has loved reading since he was very young. When he and Mario were babies, their parents used to tell them a bedtime story, sometimes Pio, sometimes Mia, and Luigi always listened very attentively. He would gawk listening to them and loved how they used to put voices and even recreate some scenes to make them laugh.

Mario also listened very interested, but being a more energetic baby, he used to fall asleep about halfway through the story, with his head resting on Luigi's shoulder and his arm firmly around his brother's waist. Their parents would drool, but they had to continue, for Luigi, even if he was struggling to keep his eyes open, wasn’t going to go to sleep without knowing the ending.

Only then, with a satisfied smile, he would hug his brother back, curl up next to him, close his eyes, and put his thumb in his mouth to get ready for sleep. By then, Mario was completely asleep, clinging to Luigi like a koala to a eucalyptus tree, and their parents had to make great efforts not to melt as they tucked them in and kissed them goodnight.

Since then, both brothers have grown up being great lovers of stories, only that, while Luigi loves books, Mario prefers to consume them in movies or video games. Even so, these are all hobbies that the brothers share, as they love to immerse themselves in a good story that helps them escape from reality for a while.

When Luigi gets emotional about a book he’s reading or has just read, Mario immediately comes to his side to hug and comfort him. He knows that, even if it's fiction, his brother has lived through it all in such a way that his feelings, of sadness, joy or emptiness at having finished a great story, are real and intense. And Mario would never judge him for it.

Luigi is deeply grateful not only that his brother comforts him, but that he listens to him talk endlessly about what has just happened in the book he’s reading, and even catches his emotions. Mario may not cry, but he feels his brother's sadness as if it were his own. Fortunately, the same thing happens when Luigi is happy or excited because of a book, and even on the few occasions when Luigi has gotten angry with a character, Mario has giggled under his breath before calming him down, because he finds it extremely tender.

Luigi usually goes to the bookstore at least once a week, and Mario, since they were teenagers, has almost always accompanied him. The only exceptions were when Mario was dating Pauline, and Luigi had no problem paying his weekly visit to the bookstore by himself, but, deep down, he missed Mario.

His brother also loves to accompany him, because, despite not being as much of a reader as Luigi, he enjoys watching him go back and forth from one shelf to another, pointing out the books he’s already read and the ones he wants to read. Also, when he gets the chance to buy a new one, Mario is amused to see Luigi picking up one book after another and trying to load them all and then deciding which one to take home.

Of course, Mario immediately offers to help him carry the books so that Luigi can keep picking up more if he wants to, and Luigi appreciates it from the bottom of his heart. And also that, again, Mario listens to him chatting incessantly about why each book has caught his attention and why he has such a hard time making up his mind.

Mario always tries to guide him in the best possible way: "What do you feel like reading more right now?" "Is it part of a series or is it a standalone?" "Is the sequel already out or would you have to wait?" "Did you like this or that author better?"

And Luigi thanks him deeply for his advice and questions because, that way, he manages to discern which book he really wants to buy that time.

The best way to surprise Luigi, the best birthday and Christmas present, will always be a book. Mario knows this, and that's why he doesn't hesitate to ask his brother to show him his long and endless lists of books he wants to purchase, as well as discreetly taking notes every time he goes to the bookstore with him. Luigi cherishes every book his brother has gifted him like the priceless treasures they are to him.

Sometimes Luigi runs into space problems. Even though his bookshelf is large and spacious, there’s a limit to everything. In those moments when he’s overwhelmed because he doesn't know where to place his new acquisitions, Mario always comes to the rescue: he immediately offers to hang a new shelf on the wall, or to look for another bookshelf to place in some free space in the room, or, directly, he stares at Luigi's shelf with a frown and his hand on his chin for a few moments, before taking the new books from his brother's arms and, displaying his skills playing Tetris, manages to find room to place them.

He loves to do it not only because he enjoys applying in real life what he has learned playing video games, but above all because of the relieved smile that blooms on Luigi's lips when he sees that Mario has found the perfect solution.

Luigi loves going to literary events where he can meet his favorite authors and have his books signed, but he tends to get so nervous that he always gets stuck for words and sweats a lot, which embarrasses him deeply.

The first time, in fact, Luigi was so shocked to have his favorite author in front of him that he fainted. When he woke up in the ambulance, he was so embarrassed that nothing Mario, who, of course, always accompanies him, said succeeded in comforting him.

He only calmed down a bit at home, when, alone with Mario, he began to silently cry without even realizing it, and his brother, not uttering a word, sat down in front of him, worried, and wrapped him gently in his arms. He pressed the back of Luigi's neck softly to make him rest his head on his shoulder and stroked his back gently, his heart aching at each new sob that escaped his brother's throat.

It took him many, many years to convince Luigi to go to an event again, for Luigi feared the same thing would happen to him again. He didn't want to make a fool of himself like that ever again, especially not in front of writers he deeply admires.

So Mario decided that they would practice: he dressed as much as he could like Luigi's favorite author, watched as many videos as he could on the internet to soak up his personality and find out what kind of books they wrote, and pretended to be them again and again, relentlessly, until Luigi, little by little, managed to exchange a few words with him.

It took them many attempts, because, despite knowing it was his brother, Luigi had no trouble getting into the situation due to his overflowing imagination. Mario had to step out of character several times to try to calm him down and help him regulate his breathing.

Luckily, thanks to Mario's efforts, eventually it worked, and Luigi, a few years later, found himself back at an event and able to chat for a few minutes with the writers he read, even though his heart was beating frantically in his chest and excitement was flooding his insides.

He will never be able to thank his brother for his infinite patience, but Mario always plays it down tenderly. He keeps assuring him that it was not patience, but his deep and sincere love for his younger brother and his eagerness to help him fulfill his wishes.

Part 3: Royalty + Luaisy

Ever since the brothers met Princess Peach, she and Luigi have been, little by little, building up a beautiful friendship that grows every day, just like the sweet romantic relationship between her and Mario.

It didn't take long for Peach to discover Luigi's bookish side, and it made her eager and excited, as she has always enjoyed reading and loves to comment on the books she reads in great detail.

So she didn't hesitate to take Luigi to the huge library of her castle, and she smiled, touched, as she saw the amazement with which Luigi observed its towering shelves, turning on himself in the center of the room as he tried to take it all in.

Since then, Peach and Luigi have become reading buddies. The two of them love to immerse themselves in a good story, read together in the castle library while comfortably sipping tea and, of course, comment on what they have just read and exchange views. Luigi even ends up causing Peach to also take a liking to collecting bookmarks and literary merchandising.

They often do joint readings: they discover a book they both feel like reading and set a series of goals to try to read it at the same pace, so they can discuss it as they go along. Sometimes, however, Luigi discovers that Peach hasn't read one of his favorite books, so he doesn't hesitate to read it with her so he can see her reactions, and vice versa. They love to share their anger, their cries and their joys, for it fills their hearts with bliss and emotion that they have someone by their side who understands perfectly well what they’re feeling and why.

They enjoy hearing what this or that scene has made the other feel, or what they think of this or that character, because it helps them to see things from a point of view that, perhaps, they had not considered before. Reading enriches them, but their literary conversations enrich them even more.

And Mario, of course, is delighted that the two most important people in his life have forged such a strong, deep bond and spend so much quality time together, sharing one of their greatest passions. Often, unbeknownst to them, he stands watching them as they read in the library and gets a silly grin on his face when he sees them laughing together after chatting a bit about their readings.

When it comes to Prince Peasley, on the other hand, Luigi is the one who watches him while smiling, mesmerized, as the prince, always so elegant and sophisticated, has an exquisite oratory and knows how to strike the perfect tone every time a character intervenes, and also to confer the right emotion when it comes to the narrator. And Luigi, besides staring at him, enraptured by the fabulousness of his figure, also listens to him spellbound. He would almost say that he enjoys reading more when his beloved prince is the one who narrates, and plays, the stories.

Princess Daisy, due to her energetic nature, is not much prone to reading. She prefers more dynamic activities where she can unleash not only her endless energy, but also her competitive side. Even so, she knows and respects the value of books, having grown up well aware of their importance in safeguarding and protecting the history of her kingdom. (@kelbreyworshipper you may like these ones!)

But when she meets Luigi, she begins to show a slight interest in reading, something that at first was only born so that she could have something to talk to him about. Fortunately, Luigi, despite his initial shyness, doesn't need more than a mention of literature to start talking nonstop about his favorite stories and how much they make him feel. And Daisy, not even realizing it, finds herself listening to him entranced, very attentive to his every word and genuinely understanding why there are people, like Luigi, who find reading so exciting.

Over time, she starts asking him for book recommendations, which he happily obliges, and Daisy discovers that she actually enjoys reading, especially stories with tons of action. Still, what she likes the most about this is Luigi's thrilled and moved expression when he finds out she's actually listened to him, read the book he recommended and, therefore, now they can fangirl together. She falls even harder for him because of the cute little face he makes.

Sensing that her interest in him is growing and that it may be mutual, Daisy decides to invite Luigi to Sarasaland Castle to show him her library. At first she doesn't tell him what she has invited him for, which makes Luigi VERY nervous, as he doesn't know if this is a date or not. She playfully takes him by the hands, leads him to the library doors and asks him to close his eyes. Luigi hesitates a little, unsure, but ends up obeying so as not to disappoint her.

Daisy then opens the library and guides Luigi carefully inside. He almost trips, which makes her laugh, causing him, in turn, to relax a bit. And when she finally tells him to open his eyes, Luigi gasps and his jaw drops, his heart pounding in his chest, not only because that library is even a bit larger than Peach's, but also because, slowly, his mind understands and assimilates that Daisy had prepared this to surprise him.

And even though he’s fascinated by all the books before him, he ends up, without realizing it, looking at Daisy, with a blushing smile on his flushed face and his hands over his heart, while she explains to him that all those volumes belonged to his ancestors and that he has her permission to come whenever he wants to get them. "They're yours!" she says at last, turning to him, and Luigi's heart grows larger at the offer, causing a tear to escape his eyes as the princess, full of tenderness, smiles at him.

Over the next few days, Luigi goes to the library, encouraged by Daisy, who insists again and again that he come to Sarasaland. Her library has a huge ladder to reach the highest shelves, and Daisy uses it without a second thought to glide across the room, to the terrified gaze of Luigi, who dares not even climb the first rung.

As soon as she notices this, Daisy gets down, walks over to Luigi and takes him by the hand to guide him to the ladder. He almost cringes when she places his hand on the wood and freezes when Daisy encourages him to climb up. "It's completely safe!" she assures him. "And, besides, I'll be right here. You can hold my hand as you climb up. I promise I won't slide you down too fast the first time!"

Very slowly and clinging to Daisy's hand, Luigi climbs up the steps. She doesn't let go and keeps repeating phrases to encourage him, which makes Luigi feel almost as safe as when he is with Mario, though in a different way. Once he reaches the top of the first shelf, however, Luigi is unable to climb any higher, so Daisy doesn't pressure him any further. She gently grasps the lower end of the ladder and, after warning him, moves it a little, very slowly as she promised, to make him feel secure.

The next day, however, Daisy goes up right after Luigi and, leaning into the next bookshelf, pushes as hard as she can to propel the ladder to the opposite side at breakneck speed. Her laughter mingles with Luigi’s screams, but however, once they stop, he discovers that, despite his initial panic, he’s had fun with what Daisy has just done.

This then becomes a regular occurrence between them, until it gets to the point where Luigi feels comfortable and confident enough to climb the ladder by himself and propel himself across the library in true “Beauty and the Beast” style.

In the kingdom of Sarasaland there’s a tradition to honor books, as they’re not only a source of entertainment, but also the sacred objects that preserve their history. Daisy has grown up with these values and does not hesitate to tell Luigi about this tradition soon after they start dating.

On Book Day, it is customary for the man to give the woman a rose and the woman to give the man a book. This originated many centuries ago, before everything related to gender and relationships evolved, so nowadays, simply put, the members of a romantic relationship give each other both a book and a rose.

Luigi shows up in Sarasaland on the appointed date very nervously, dressed in a smart green suit, his favorite color, and carrying a wrapped book for Daisy, as well as a purple rose, very rare and hard to come by, which he has grown himself in his garden with Peach's help. Daisy greets him in a lovely purple dress, with a vaporous skirt, matching elbow-length gloves and her delicate shoulders bare. She holds out her gift to him almost before he reaches the castle gates and can recover from the amazement of seeing her so dazzling and beautiful.

He’s delighted when, upon opening it, he discovers that it is one of those special editions he’s been looking for for so long. Only Mario knew he wanted it, so he understands, without needing Daisy to tell him, that his brother has given his girlfriend a hand to surprise him. And that makes his heart fill with love and his eyes with tears, and the book even more precious to him.

Daisy excitedly opens her present and, to Luigi's surprise, squeals when she discovers that he’s gifted her a fantasy adventure novel that caught her eye when he first took her to his favorite Brooklyn bookstore. Daisy drags him into the library, invites him to sit down with some drinks (tea for him, a smoothie for her), and asks him to please start reading.

And so they spend their first Book Day together: settled on Daisy's fluffy library couch, she sat on his lap, the skirt of her purple dress spread over his legs, almost hiding them, and her arms around his neck, depositing light kisses here and there as he struggles to read aloud the book he’s just given her. This was the first time they gave each other a book, but of course it would not be the last, as reading together, visiting the Brooklyn bookstore and Sarasaland and Mushroom Kingdom libraries, and continuing to celebrate Book Day would soon become habit for them.

Daisy often stares at Luigi as he reads, amused by his reactions and the faces he makes, and, when their relationship is more established, she has no qualms about peeping over his shoulder. And Luigi, far from getting angry, what he did the first time and has continued to do ever since is to read aloud, so that she also finds herself immersed in the story without realizing it. (This may sound familiar!)

But what Luigi enjoys the most is that Daisy, whenever the characters in the book share some intimate gesture, instantly replicates it with him. If they hold hands, Daisy immediately reaches for Luigi's hand. If there’s a hug, Daisy wraps her arms around Luigi and holds him tightly, which leaves him breathless, but also makes him laugh and fills his heart with tenderness.

And, of course, if there are kisses, Daisy won't hesitate to start showering Luigi with them. First on his hand, on the tips of his fingers and on his palm. Then on the forehead, with a delicacy that always melts Luigi. His cheeks color every time Daisy places her lips on them, but what drives him absolutely crazy is when she seeks his mouth. It's the only thing that makes him put down the book and postpone reading for another time. (Check out @bberetd's wonderful art for this!)

Often, before they fall asleep, Daisy cuddles up to Luigi in bed, wearing his green shirt, and buries her face in the crook of his neck. Luigi absentmindedly begins to fiddle with her hair, delighted to have her so close, and, with his other hand, reaches for his book to read aloud a few more pages before they fall asleep. It's part of their routine and they both love sharing stories that way.

Part 4: The gang

The visit to the bookstore and libraries has now become a regular occurrence for everyone. As soon as he started talking about books with Peach and she showed him her library, Luigi immediately invited her to come with him and Mario the next time they went to their regular Brooklyn bookstore, and she gladly accepted.

On that first visit by the princess, Peach was as thrilled as Luigi and the two of them went back and forth in the bookstore, she eagerly looking at everything, he endlessly talking about the store and the many books he’s bought there. Soon they found themselves going often to acquire new books, not without first spending a good while in the place accumulating stories in their arms to, again, decide in the end.

Again Luigi was looking for Mario, who, unconsciously, had been staring at them with an amused smile and his eyes full of affection. Blushing, Mario would hurry to come to his side to help him, and Luigi, even though he’d caught him gazing at the princess in rapt attention, wouldn’t comment anything so as not to make him uncomfortable or put any pressure on him.

Many times, however, Peach would intervene and take two of the books Luigi had chosen. That's how she also started giving him books as presents, and Luigi couldn't be more grateful that his beloved friend pampers him that way. Her gesture makes her even more attractive and sweet in the eyes of Mario, who melts at seeing her displaying such adoration towards his beloved little brother.

Daisy, always eager to learn more about the place where her dearest hero in green grew up, also joins in, but, to her surprise, she finds herself next to Mario, fondly watching Peach and Luigi, especially the latter. They, however, are so excited talking about books that they never notice the goofy smiles with which Daisy and Mario look at them, delighted to see their two favorite people indulging in their greatest passion.

Despite this, both Mario and Daisy make sure to pay attention to the books that Luigi and Peach point out with the intention of acquiring them in the future, and then make plans with each other to decide which ones to give them on future birthdays, Christmases and, of course, regular days. Any time is a good time to surprise their favorite people with a new literary gift.

Sometimes, on their dates, Luigi and Daisy also go to the bookstore, and she, as always, listens to him talk very attentively. When it comes to advising him on which book to acquire, however, she’s much more practical: she thinks Luigi should pick the book he wants to read the most… or the one with the most romance in it.

And Luigi blushes violently because he perfectly understands the implications of such a suggestion.

Literary events also end up being a regular thing they all do together. Luigi, thanks to Mario, already manages to control his nerves and chat a bit with the authors when they sign his books. Peach, of course, is all sweetness and always tells them how much their stories have made her feel and dream. Mario just smiles and listens, delighted to be able to accompany them and to see them enjoying themselves so much, right up their alley. He always takes pictures of them with the authors, both together and separately, something he already did when it was just him and Luigi.

Daisy, on the other hand, is so spontaneous and genuine that she doesn't hold back when it comes to treating the writers with too much familiarity, which only embarrasses the others, especially Luigi. If it's the author of a romance book, Daisy doesn't hesitate to cheerfully tell them how much she and her boyfriend enjoyed the sensual and intimate scenes, or that she lost count of how many times she kissed her sweetie during the reading because of the sheer number of times the characters kissed.

In those moments, Luigi can only think of crawling under a rock. He has to resort to all the training with Mario to manage to keep his composure and not faint again or run away to hide so no one sees him turning red as a tomato.

However, then Daisy intertwines her arm with his and kisses him on the cheek, and he feels that his blush, this time, is due to being close to her and to her tokens of affection. After all, Luigi adores everything about his princess, all her sides and her personality, and besides, to other authors, fortunately, Daisy tells them how much fun she and her boyfriend had with their novel, and Luigi can only adore her.

At these events, both Mario and Daisy go out of their way to get lots of bookmarks and merch for Luigi and Peach, as they know they both love to collect stuff related to their favorite books. And also, again, they take mental notes of all the books they can buy as future presents for them.

From time to time, Toad and Peasley also join in on their visits to the bookstore, libraries or events. Toad is a big fan of fantasy and adventure comics, as they nurture his enthusiastic and adventurous spirit, and Peasley loves to talk endlessly with his favorite authors about the various subjects they cover in their books, thus unconsciously displaying, once again, his impeccable eloquence.

I really hope you liked this! I had a blast writing all of this and imagining my favorite characters in the many situations I've experienced myself as a bookworm, as well as adding others I came up with 🥰

Plase feel free to add your comments and feedback, and also headcanons if you have a few of your own! And if by any chance this inspires you to create your own stuff, I'd be more than honored 😭 All I ask is to please give credit! 🙏💖

Before I leave, please remember to check @itsavee4117's blog today! You won't regret it 🤩📚✨

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harrygoeswest · 1 year

Text

Love Aged Like Fine Wine

Harry is drunk and lost not too far from home, and there's only one person he wants to call to rescue him.

A/N: Hello everyone 👋🏼 it has been a loooong time since I posted anything on Tumblr, and I was admittedly reluctant to do so. However, I reblogged the lovely Sarah's (@harry-on-broadway) fic challenge the other day and it inspired me, and I would be doing a disservice to write the whole thing and never look at it again, especially since I quite like it. SO, I give you my first one shot in over a year. Bear with me, I'm a bit rusty... Special mention as always to Miss Liz (@all-things-fic) for reading and validating me.

I'm using prompts 14 & 19.

Trigger Warnings: Absolutely nothing (apart from the odd f word)

Word Count: 6533

~~~

“What do you want, Harry?”

An offended scoff was his initial response. “Not a very nice way t’greet y’best friend.”

He was right, it wasn’t. “You’re not my best friend.”

“Ouch. Though’ we were besties ‘n now y’makin’ me feel sad.”

Harry was slurring more than he usually did. I feared if he tried to say obviously, ‘overshly’ would turn into a soft, deep single syllable alike to the word ‘shush’. It wasn’t particularly late to warrant his level of drunkenness. Especially on a Tuesday evening. Chewsday, if you will.

“Harsh truths are easier to take when you’re drunk.” I said, shrugging as if he could see the action.

“Why’re y’bein’ so ‘orrible?” He whined.

“Why are you calling me pissed as a fart at 8:45 on a Tuesday night and ruining my bath time?”

“‘S there some space lef’ in the bathtub?”

“Don’t make it weird.” I grimaced. “What’s going on?”

He produced an incoherent mumble. I heard the rain get heavier, both on the phone call and outside my house.

“What was that?”

“M’st…”

“Aye?” I asked, my face surely a bewildered picture.

“I’m lost.” He huffed, agitated.

I sat up in the bath, water and suds sloshing around me. “Lost?”

“Yes.”

“W-,” words failed me, and I barked out a sharp laugh. “How are you lost?”

“How does anyone else get lost?” He said, stroppy.

“Wow, you really are drunk.”

He hummed, but it was a defeated noise. “C’ya come ‘n get me?”

“How am I supposed to come and get you if you don’t know where you are?”

“Well I was only at The Holly Bush.”

I laughed twice as hard that time. Put in perspective, The Holly Bush is no more than a ten minute walk from Harry’s house. “How long have you been walking?”

“‘Bout ‘alf an hour.” He muttered.

Now I was really howling, like a hyena on laughing gas. “Jesus Christ, Harry!”

“‘S not funny!”

“On the contrary, years of comedy begs to differ.”

He practically cried my name down the phone. “‘M really tired ‘n cold ‘n… weh,” I think he meant wet, “please come get me.”

I took a deep breath and mourned my premature bath. “Fine. But do not move from wherever you are.”

“Won’t.”

I stood up and watched water and soap suds cascade down my body with a pout. “What can you see?”

“Er…” a pause followed, I assumed for his vacant thoughts. “‘S like a lot of trees.”

I rolled my eyes. “That could literally be any part of the Heath, mate. Say more words.”

“I can’t see shit! It’s dark and it’s pissing it down!”

“Don’t get arsey or you can stay there and drown in rain water.” I warned him. “Find a road sign. Or a street name.”

He grunted. After no more than fifteen seconds he produced, “Platt’s Lane.”

“Alright, I know where that is. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“Thank you.” He said. At least I think that’s what he said.

I murmured a little, “Sure,” and then hung up.

I dressed quickly in the easiest clothes I could find - a pair of tie-dye jogging bottoms, an old t-shirt and a crewneck over the top. I pulled on the first pair of trainers I could find and ran out to my car whilst fighting the rain. I also took a towel with me. My hair was still in the bun I’d put it up in for my bath.

It was really battering it down now - it was loud inside the car and the windows were steamed up. It was even louder when I turned the air conditioning on to defog the windows.

Once I could see outside the front and back windows I finally made my way to find Harry. I still mourned my bath as I drove - I missed how warm it was and how comfortable I had been. Now I was out in the cold and wet to rescue my drunken idiot friend.

It didn’t take me very long to find said drunken idiotic friend. He was sitting on a yellow grit box under some trees at the junction of Platt’s Lane and West Heath Road. He was soaking, shoulders slumped and looking at the floor. I pulled up as close to him as possible and leaned over to push the door open.

“Get in, you moron!” I called.

Harry looked up at the sound of my voice. He leapt to his feet almost immediately after, and staggered his way over to my little car. He nearly tripped over twice on his way, and he hit his head as he sat down.

“Fucking hell.” I muttered. “Look at the state of you.”

He grumbled, readjusting his sodden jacket, and then looked right at me. His hair was drenched, water dripping from his neck down his arms and chest, and his forehead down his nose and cheeks.

“Here,” I threw the towel at him. “You’re gonna make my car smell.”

“‘S tha’ the wors’ a’ya problems?” He asked, a snide tone laced in his mushy words.

“I wish it was.”

I pulled off again as Harry began to attempt to dry himself off, although I feared a towel would do very little to help him. Fortunately we were only a mere five minute drive from his house anyway. He probably could have walked home faster if he were sober.

It was a relatively quiet drive since Harry spent most of it rubbing my towel over every available inch of his body. He did however sing along to the one song he heard playing, but he didn’t quite have the same masterful tone as usual. He even seemed quite timid.

I parked as close as possible to his front door and shut the engine off.

“Where are your keys, H?”

He gave me a dopey blink and then looked down at himself, double chin appearing accompanied with a pouty lower lip. “Dunno. On me somewhere.”

I sighed and unclipped my seatbelt, then reached over to him to feel through each of his pockets for his house keys. Of course I found them in the hardest one to reach on the inside of his jacket. He giggled while I did, like a child being tickled. I smacked him on the arm before I got out of the car.

I ran up to the front door and unlocked it, opening it so that my paralytic companion could be jettisoned inside his home as quickly as possible without getting more wet.

“Come on, then,” I said as I opened the passenger door, my shoulders hunched because the rain felt weird on my neck.

Harry practically fell out of the car at my instruction, so I lifted him up and placed his arm around my shoulder so I could manage his weight better. I kicked the car door shut behind us and walked him to the door. I realised on our little walk how unfit I was.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine.” I said, my voice tight. It was only strained because he was heavy and I was weak.

“Didn’t even think I drank tha’ much, was only few whiskeys.”

Only a few could range anything between 3 and 30. I didn’t chide him for that. “It’s alright, Harry. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.” I meant that genuinely and not as a threat I’d be getting that level of drunk in the future just to call him to rescue me.

“Would.” He insisted.

I awkwardly held onto him as we got inside, twisting at an awkward angle to close the door and keep any more rain from getting in. Harry felt like dead weight against me.

“Ready to get upstairs?”

His affirming nod was the surest action I’d seen from him this far.

“Alright,” I took a deep breath, “let’s go.”

I made sure we navigated the stairs one at a time, because I had visions of him tripping up and cracking his head open if he tried to do anything by himself. And now, in the warmth of his massive home and up this close to him, the boy reeked of stale beer and sweat. I didn’t want to ask what he’d been doing in The Holly Bush for him to get that bad. I hadn’t seen him that wasted in a very long time.

“Meant it, y’know.” He slurred.

We were only halfway up the stairs and all I could hear was my own panting. Admittedly I was surprised he hadn’t passed out yet.

“Meant what?” I heaved, and pushed him up the next step.

“I w’ do the same f’you.”

“I know you would.”

“Don’t even have t’ be drunk.”

“Right.”

We stopped for a minute, not at anyone’s request but Harry didn’t seem to want to move. I looked at him as he did me, and he produced this hazy-eyed, closed-lip smile.

His woolly but content expression made me laugh. “I think it’s bed time for you, mate.”

He groaned. “Don’t call me ‘mate’.”

I frowned. “Alright. Sorry.”

When we finally reached the top of the stairs, Harry collapsed on me by way of a hug. We were standing in the middle of the hallway, his entire body somehow wrapped around mine. I was suffocating in the smell of a brewery.

“Don’t leave me.” He begged.

“I’m not… Need to get you to bed somehow.”

He pulled his head back to look at me, eyes heavy. “You can take me to bed.”

“That’s what I just said.”

He nodded repeatedly like a bobble-head figure.

I made a face, perturbed, and nudged him in the direction of his bedroom. He nearly fell over as he turned around, and ended up palming the wall the rest of the way. I kept a hand on his back just in case.

As soon as he saw his bed he was climbing onto it, still fully clothed and in his muddy trainers.

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, reaching after him like he was a toddler, “Harry, take your shoes off.”

He laughed maniacally into his bed sheets, the muffled sound disturbing.

I huffed with a scowl and did it myself. His vans were dripping wet so I took them to the radiator and left them on top to dry. I made sure the radiator was turned on, too. The last thing Harry Styles needed was the flu again.

He was sitting up now, watching me with a warm expression. I ignored it.

“Need to take your clothes off or you’ll get a cold.”

“Yes, Miss.” He was beaming now.

The attempt at taking his t-shirt off was painful, and I ended up having to help him.

“Jeans too.”

I knew that would be more agonising to watch than the t-shirt, and I didn’t want to have to look at his bare chest for too long, so I went for a walk to the closest bathroom to get another towel. His jeans were still around his knees when I got back.

“Jesus Christ.” I said through gritted teeth, and freed his jeans from around his ankles. They were a heavy kind of damp and thudded when I put them on the floor.

“‘S cold.” He commented, staring up at me.

“I’ve just put the radiator on.” I told him, and handed him the towel. “I’ll find you some clean pants.”

I left him to dry his no doubt tacky chest and legs while I searched through his drawers for some clean underwear. I threw them at him once I’d located them.

“Where’s your laundry basket?”

“Wardrobe.” He said, voice getting gruff.

I collected his dirty clothes from off the floor again and wandered into the walk-in wardrobe attached to his bedroom. I stared at it for a while, not just because it was ginormous but also because I couldn’t believe the amount of crap in it. It was bulging with clothes - some I hadn’t seen him wear for years and others I hadn’t seen him wear at all. Ever.

I dropped the clothes in my hand onto the overflowing basket in one of the cupboards, hating to do so because it was just adding to more chores. And then I realised that this was not my house and I would not be responsible for washing any of his clothes.

“Harry, do you want something to wear in bed if you’re cold?”

He never answered.

I peered into the bedroom to see he’d already tucked himself into bed.

“I guess not.” I muttered.

I stood next to his bed and watched him for a minute. His eyes were closed and he was breathing regularly but I couldn’t work out if he was actually asleep or just pretending to be. His eyelids looked shiny and delicate and his cheeks were dusted pink - a combination of his inebriation and being outside in the cold for so long. I could hear the radiator chugging and it was definitely warmer than it had been when we arrived.

Without thinking, still staring at him while possibly passed out like a lunatic creep, I wrapped my index finger around one of his curls and moved it out of his face.

He giggled suddenly, catching my wrist. “That tickled.”

I smacked his hand away. “I thought you were asleep, you absolute git!”

“Not yet.”

I rolled my eyes and scowled at him. “I’m goin’ home. Seeing you in bed is making me want mine.”

“Can always share mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scoffed, and made a move to leave. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Aye, wait!” He shouted at me.

“What?”

“I don’t want you t’ leave yet.”

“Well, I’m exhausted, and you’re about to pass out on me anyway.”

He said something that was complete and utter incoherent nonsense.

“I don’t know what you just said but I’m not changing my mind.”

He whined my name again and reached for my hand. “Please stay bit longer? Like havin’ y’here, havin’ y’around.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say, but I still want my own bed.”

“Please?”

“No.” I stood my ground, but I took a step closer and pinched his cheek. “But I’ll come back tomorrow after work if that makes you feel better.”

“Feel better if y’stayed wi’ me now.”

“Well that’s not going to happen. Just call me if you need anything.”

“Need y’now. Need y’all the time.”

“Stop being daft.”

“‘M not bein’ daft - I mean it.”

“You are being daft. Just go to sleep - I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise.”

He stressed my name and sat up. “Y’not listenin’ to me. ‘M bein’ proper serious - I want ya t’ stay wi’ me. I need y’here.”

“No, what you need is sleep.”

He scowled at me.

“I’m going to go and get you a pint of water and a paracetamol and then I’m going home. And that’s the last we’re gonna say on this, end of.”

I left the room and found my way to the kitchen, though admittedly I did get lost on my way there since I’d only been here once before and it was a considerable amount of time ago. I did as promised and got him a pint of water and found some paracetamol in a drawer full of miscellaneous items close to the sink.

I couldn’t fathom why Harry was so needy, insobriety aside. We were friends, yes, and had been for some time, but we weren’t that close. Or perhaps we were and I just refused to admit it due to his increasing popularity and the fact that being perceived near him in the public eye terrified me. I was perfectly happy with my mundane job and my mundane life. I appreciated Harry for what he was - a friend -, and didn’t expect anything more or less from that level of our relationship. Nor had I ever, and it surprised me that he suddenly did.

Perhaps I was overthinking it all. That was likely.

I returned to Harry’s room to find him out of bed in just his pants.

“What are you doing?” I asked, putting the water and the tablets on his bedside table, trying to avoid looking at his chest.

“Need the loo.” He said without hesitation, and marched past me.

I sighed, watching after him until he was safely in the bathroom with the door closed, and then I perched on the edge of his bed with my head in my hands.

I was irritated, yes. I knew I shouldn’t be as irritated as I was, but I couldn’t help it. This was not the evening I had planned for myself. I was supposed to have an early night and go to work in the morning with a clear head and no bags under my eyes. Now I was going to look like the walking dead, and feel like it too.

I stood up again when Harry reappeared. I watched him stagger and sway across the corridor and it made me nervous. He tripped once and nearly smacked his face against the doorframe.

“Fucking hell, Harry.” I said, panicked, and reached forward to steady him.

He laughed, more a giggle of that from a small girl. “I’m so drunk.”

“I know you are. That’s why you need to get into bed.”

“I will, jus’ one more thing before I do,”

I thought he was going to start running riot around the house and I was going to have to chase after him, like a dog owner with a tyrannical pooch. But instead, he just wrapped his arms around my middle and shoved his face into the crook of my neck. His body was warm and it felt strange being this close to him when he had so little clothes on.

I let out a long breath, reciprocating it this time. “You’re a twat.”

He hummed when I stroked my hand over his damp hair. “Not very nice.”

“And yet still true.”

He grunted, but never moved a muscle. A moment of silence passed before he said anything else. “Thank you f’ comin’ to rescue me.”

“Sure, anytime.” I didn’t mean that. Or maybe I did, but I’d be bitter about it if it became a recurrence because I couldn’t stand to disappoint people who meant a lot to me.

He let me go, and I thought that was finally going to be the end of it. Instead, he took my face, quite harshly, between both of his hands until my cheeks squished. His gaze was dopey and warm again, but somehow different to last time. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Harry, that hurts.”

He ignored me. “I love you.” It sounded more like ‘ah luff you’ but that wasn’t relevant in the moment.

“Yeah, I love you too, now let go.” I was trying to pull his hands away but apparently he was still physically stronger than me even that drunk.

“No,” he shook his head at me and then brought what felt like my entire body against his chest. “I mean I really love you.”

I couldn’t see anything. I felt us begin to fall sideways, but with his strength I had absolutely no control over where we were going.

“Harry!” I screamed, still trying to fight him with no luck.

I think we hit the bed because the landing was softer than anticipated and Harry didn’t wince or flinch. That could also be attributed to the levels of alcohol in his body. He was probably majoritively quite numb.

“Y’like, my favourite person.” He said, voice much quieter now, and I could feel his nose in my hair. My face was pushed into his chest. “Want y’around all time. Rubbish a’ showin’ it but I miss y’when ‘m nor’ at home. ‘N I don’t mean everyone, I mean jus’ you.”

I was listening to him with baited breath. I’d never really been on the receiving end of ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ - I was usually the one talking and making a fool of myself. Once I told my sister’s boyfriend (at the time) what I really thought of him in front of our entire family after keeping my mouth shut for so long. They broke up the next day and she came to live with me for a month. I felt almost paralysed now listening to Harry.

“Mus’ think ‘m nuts ‘cause I’ve never said anythin’ before, bur’m scared. You’re a scary woman.”

I tried not to take offence to that, even though it was likely true. I had tried for the longest time to give off a very ambiguous aura. I didn’t want anyone to know me, least not the real me. I liked the illusion of being dead inside even if I was far from it.

“Loved y’ for so long now I can’ ‘ide it anymore.” He was really slurring now and words were about to fail him. Somehow, he was still holding onto me. “‘M like tha’ 1975 song.” I wanted to ask which one, but I didn’t have to. He proceeded to sing the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Just once he sang them, maybe slightly off pitch but it still sounded good. Not sure it would hold up to any of his previous performances, but I’d take it.

I didn’t know what to say. I was in a state of shock to be honest and the thought of moving terrified me. But then his grip around me loosened, and he let out a singular loud snore.

I pulled back, horrified, to see his sleeping face - mouth wide open. Another snore was released. “You are fucking joking.”

I sat up, his limp body falling away from me. I smacked his arm in the hopes of waking him, but he never flinched. “Harry,” I said, hitting him again.

Still no movement.

“Oi.” Smack.

Nothing.

I didn’t know what to do. Who does that? Who makes an admission like that and then falls asleep? And why did it have to be this boy? I was speechless, and when I finally managed to clamber off the bed I was also useless.

I stared at him with a look of bewilderment, as he lay there passed out on his unmade bed, mouth agape and naked besides his white y-fronts. It was then that the reality of what he’d said hit me, and I started to cry.

I wasn’t angry or upset - I was overwhelmed. Drunkenly, Harry had just told me he loved me. Then immediately passed out. Now I was left with my own feelings and his and no one to talk to about it. What was I supposed to do?

I desperately wanted to leave and get some sleep, but I also couldn’t help but think that would be morally inappropriate. Leaving a friend alone while dangerously intoxicated was how 50% of all murder documentaries started. Not that Harry was likely to get killed by an intruder in his mansion complete with security fortress. But he might accidentally fall down the stairs or choke on his own vomit.

And yet, the idea of staying in this massive and unfamiliar house to process all those thoughts made me even more hysterical. The idea alone provoked a loud sob, and I quickly covered my mouth because it was such a horrendous sound.

I made my decision that instant. I put Harry properly into bed with all of my remaining strength, covered him with his duvet, and then I fled from his house like a bat out of hell. On my way out, I took his spare keys with me.

I barely slept that night. My head was swimming and even though I couldn’t keep my eyes open, my brain was in overdrive. That, and the cat was sleeping on my chest and purring right in my face. His whiskers tickled my nose.

I found myself thinking about the early stages of mine and Harry’s association.

I couldn’t have called him a friend when we first met because I hated him. I don’t think that feeling was ever reciprocated on his part but I couldn’t ever stand to be in the same room as him. Why? Because I felt the need to constantly contradict societal comments and beliefs. The world - at least people in my world - deemed him a golden boy who never did any wrong. I was convinced it wasn’t the case. My downfall was my lack of determination to prove it.

We met through mutual friends, as these things always seemed to happen. I couldn’t even remember which friend it was - neither me nor Harry talked to them anymore. But one day he was just there, and periodically from then onward he continued to show up. I couldn’t even remember when it was, but it was before he cut all his hair off. One Direction’s last few remaining days, perhaps? Anyway, he was suddenly omnipresent and came with an abundance of attention and it infuriated me.

I remember once, Harry confronted me on my obvious dislike for him. That was our first encounter collectively with ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’. I can’t remember exactly what I said but I wasn’t very nice and I remember the Bambi look in his eyes when I walked away from him. After that he was notably absent for some time. If I asked him about it now I’m not sure how honest he’d be about it. He was lucky enough to be able to claim work absences for long periods of time - I imagined he’d use that excuse. How truthful that would be, I didn’t know.

Our reconciliation came after that. He saw me alone in the nearby shop and asked me to join him for a coffee. I couldn’t really say no - it was a Sunday afternoon and I was only going back home to vegetate for the rest of the day. I think it was spring - I probably would’ve just read a book and gone to bed early. We spent the next 3 hours in Ginger & White, and after we got kicked out of there we went up to The Holly Bush, ironically.

I saw a different side to Harry that night, and I always put it down to having him to myself. There was no one else there with us apart from the locals in the pub who wouldn’t bat an eyelid. It was just us, and he was unapologetically himself, as was I. We suddenly had an entirely new perception of one another - a higher level of understanding. On that random Sunday evening alone, I came to appreciate Harry for just being Harry. I saw who he really was, and I liked him.

From then on, I enjoyed his company. It became a regular thing - an afternoon doing something random together, just the two of us. And it ranged from simple coffee shop talks to entire day trips out of London. I realised then that what we’d basically been doing was dating for about 5 years with no physical contact.

I laughed out loud, disturbing the cat. He ran off and left me alone.

We’d had our own intimate relationships with other people outside of our friendship, which I guess is why I’d never thought about it that way before. He also seemed to do that with multiple other people - I wasn’t the only one. Was I?

I never had to apologise for the night I was rude to him. I always wondered why, and I always berated myself for not saying I was sorry. I’d admitted I was wrong about him a long time ago, but only to myself. It seemed a bit too late to do it now, but I assumed he’d forgiven me. I could’ve been wrong.

I think I finally fell asleep around 4am. My alarm for work went off just 3 hours later and I burst into tears as soon as I realised the situation I was in. I called into work sick and went straight back to sleep.

How much more sleep I had was uncertain. It felt like only 2 hours, but it could’ve been more. Since I wasn’t working, I decided to get a McDonald’s after showering. Mostly for Harry rather than me, although I’m sure he’d make a comment about it.

I used the key I’d stolen last night to let myself in and went straight up to his bedroom with the McDonald’s in my right hand. Except I didn’t make it to his bedroom, because I found him on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, on his front with his cheek pressed to the tile floor.

“Harry…?”

He moaned, limply raising his hand and dropping it again immediately.

I moved into the room, leaving the McDonald’s in the hall because the smell would not go well with the pre-existing one in the room. It seemed Harry had vomited since I left. I sat on my knees beside him and stroked a finger through his curls, similar to how I had done last night.

“Are you alright?”

“Not really.” He said, voice whiny.

“No, I’m not surprised. I brought you some breakfast.”

He managed to lift his head and look towards me. I pointed at the hallway and he followed where my finger suggested.

“What is it?”

“McDonald’s.”

He screwed his face up. “You know I don’t eat meat.”

“Yes, that’s why I got you a Fillet-O-Fish. And mozzarella sticks.”

“Not very healthy.”

“Well, boiled eggs and avocado doesn’t make for very exciting hangover food if you ask me.”

He blew a breath out so that his lips wobbled. “True.”

“You gonna sit up and eat it?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Come on, then,”

I took his arm and helped pull him to a sitting position. He sat against the bathtub and rolled his head back, mouth open and breathing heavy. I left his food in his lap and sat opposite him with my back against the wall.

“This is probably one of the worst hangovers I’ve had in a long time.” He said, grimacing into the paper bag. At least he could form complete words this morning.

“How much do you remember?”

He laughed once. “Not much. I remember calling you, and waiting for you to come get me. I remember when you turned up, but that’s about it. I don’t remember getting home.”

I swallowed thickly. That meant he probably didn’t remember telling me he was in love with me. Or rather, singing it.

“Next thing I’ve woke up in my pants about to vomit.”

“I think you were the most drunk I’ve ever seen you.”

He paused before he took a bite out of his fillet burger. “Really?”

“Hands down. You fell over nearly three times. And you wouldn’t let me go home.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised by that. I’m a very clingy drunk.”

“I was aware of that before last night.” I muttered. “Who were you with?”

“Tom and Tyler.”

“Ah, one of those evenings, was it?

“Yeah, didn’t expect it to be quite that bad, though. Was only going for one.”

“That’s how they all start.”

“Mm, I should know better.”

“Yes you should.”

He laughed around his mouthful and then swallowed it. “This was a good call, thank you.”

“No problem. Although I have to say I did not expect to watch you eat it on the bathroom floor.”

“I know. Feel like a uni student.”

“I don’t think uni students have bathrooms this big.”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything while his mouth was full. “Think I’m gonna have a shower, if you don’t mind?”

I shrugged. “Your house.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes in jest. “Will you hang around a bit while I do?”

“Sure. I’ll put some coffee on.”

“Cool.” He grinned.

He shoved the empty box into the paper bag and screwed it up. I took the rubbish off him once we were standing again and left him alone to shower.

I did as I said I would and made him a coffee, and then helped myself to a glass of water and an apple out of the fruit bowl on his counter. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen now. He seemed to be behaving normally, so I was certain he’d forgotten his admission, but that worried me because I was now going to have to admit that I knew. And I still wasn’t entirely sure how I felt.

When Harry did reappear he was fully clothed and looked a lot fresher than he had done before. His hair was damp but beginning to curl and his complexion had a bit more life to it.

“Feel better?”

“Loads better, thank you.”

“That’s good.” I said with a pressed smile. I pushed his coffee towards him.

“Cheers. Where’s yours?” He asked with a subtle frown as he took a sip out of his mug. He made an approving sound. “That’s good.”

“You know, I don’t actually like coffee.”

His frown deepened. “You have coffee all the time.”

“No, I have a mocha.”

“That’s still got coffee in it.”

“Yes, but the hot chocolate kind of makes it a fake coffee. A coffee for people who don’t like coffee.”

“Right.” He chuckled. “I had a thought upstairs just now… why aren’t you at work?”

“Because I barely slept.”

He looked concerned. “You better not have stayed really late because of me. Should’ve kicked me in the crotch and told me to get over myself.”

“Oh believe me, I tried to leave you here to go to bed, H. But I actually got back at an acceptable hour, that wasn’t the problem.”

“Just a bad night?”

I hummed. “No, I still blame you.”

“Why?” He asked, leaning his hip against the counter side.

I looked at the kitchen top and pursed my lips. “You… you told me something that gave me a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t give you some rubbish music samples, did I?”

I snorted. “I wish. Might’ve helped me sleep.”

“What then? I can’t remember anything.”

After a charged silence, I let out a long sigh. “You told me you love me. You said you love me, and then gave this little speech about missing me. And not just as friends - you said like The 1975’s song, I’m in love with you. But you sang that part, and then immediately fell asleep.”

When I met Harry’s gaze again he was staring at me, and biting his cheek. Neither of us said anything for a while. I was hoping he’d say something. Or perhaps me repeating what he said last night meant he felt like he didn’t need to say anymore.

I cocked my head. “Did you mean it?”

He stood taller, inhaling as his gaze became glassy. “Yeah. Yeah of course I did. Well, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, obviously. But I meant it, although I didn’t mean to tell you in that way… you know, while utterly shit faced.”

“You were completely shit faced.”

“Yeah… no, that’s not how I planned on telling you.”

“Was there a different plan?”

“Maybe…” He turned his nose up and scratched the back of his head. “If I told you what it was you’d hate it-,”

“You don’t know that.” I retorted.

He raised a judgemental brow at me. “Er, yes I do.”

I laughed and put my head on the table. “Whatever.”

“Anyway,” he huffed, but it had a lightheartedness to it, “of course I fucking meant it. Been living with it for ages - it’s all had time to brew. Aged like a fine wine.”

I started laughing, and then I felt his arms wrap around my chest. I was pulled up by him to stand straighter, and he rested his chin on my shoulder. His back was against my front and it felt quite nice. I don’t think we’d ever stood like that before.

“Your love has aged like a fine wine?”

“Sounds right cheap when you say it like that.”

“You said it. That is literally what you said.” I was still laughing.

“I know.” He whimpered.

I twisted my head to look at him, but he’d hidden his face. “You’re gonna have to bear with me.”

“In what way?”

“Well, this is a lot for me. I’m still… processing it, and I don’t know how I feel. You’re my friend and I love you, of course I do. Just…”

“Not in love with me yet.” He concluded.

“Yet.” I sniggered.

“I’ll remain optimistic, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

He giggled, and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Take your time. Preferably not forever though, ‘cause… the biological clock is ticking.”

I snorted again. “Reel it in.”

“Sorry.” He hummed and squeezed my shoulders tightly. “I am going to have a movie day on the sofa. Do you want to stay?”

“For that I do, fuck yeah.”

“Sweet… go and make yourself comfy. I’ll get the snacks.”

He bumped my hip with his when I passed him so I kicked him back. He gave a childish laugh, and I shook my head at him, but I found as I wandered into his overcompensating living room that I had this giddy feeling in my stomach I’d never felt with him before.

What was I, the most stubborn woman on Earth, going to do?

“What d’you want, H?”

“Not a very charming greeting.” He groused.

I pouted. “You’re interrupting my bath time.”

“Is there some space left in the bathtub?”

I smirked and sank lower into the water. “For you? Never.”

“Hey!”

“Always,” I laughed around my correction, “I meant always.”

“That’s more like it.” He chuckled. “I was calling because I think it might be my turn to get dinner. So what do you fancy?”

“Well, you, obviously.”

“Obviously.” His matter-of-fact tone matched mine. I could imagine him nodding his head. “How about a chippy?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. My usual please.”

“Curry sauce too?”

“Wouldn’t be my usual without it.”

“Just checking. So, I will be knocking on your door within the next hour. Make the most of that bath ‘cause I’m coming.”

“Cool. See you in a bit.”

“Bye-bye.”

“Love you!” I shouted before he could put the phone down.

He was quiet for a minute. “Blimey. Don’t need to shout it, darlin’.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Just in case you forgot.”

“I could never. But I love you more. See you shortly.”

“Okay, bye-bye. Love you most.”

“No!” He shouted, but I cut him off before he could refute it more.

I felt smug. I let out a satisfied sigh and laid my head back against the edge of the tub.

I had taken my time in coming around to Harry’s admission, but he was incredibly patient with me and I was always grateful for that. It had been little over a year since his little bender, and I felt really good about everything. We felt really good about everything.

Our relationship seemed to only be moving up at a pace we were both happy with, and I couldn’t ask for anything more. All we had to do was keep it that way, and I had every confidence we could.

~~~

If you read this far, thank you <3

Come Talk To Me

#harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harryonbroadwayficchallenge #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles ff #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst imagine #harry styles angst imagines #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles fluff imagines #i forgot how much i fucking hate writing tags on the bottom of posts #this is endless

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fariesoiree · 25 days

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Hiii ! I just came across your post about bridgerton inspired hobie fic and I thought it was brilliant ! Rebel medieval hobie is my soft spot fr...

Now imagine hobie being a very flirty man well known for having good times with women in the high society (even the married ones), but ending up being forced by his family to marry reader in order to save the family's reputation.

While reader, on the other hand, really couldn't care less about hobie as she doesn't want to get married but still ends up to becausewomen's voices at this era... well...

Now I can't help but daydreaming about flirty hobie who doesn't take the marriage seriously at first, but ends up falling for reader and trying to make her fall in love of him in return ; but reader sees him as a playboy and wants to stay distant but eventually can't resist him !!!

I'm sorry it was way longer than I imagined at first but I just had to share it with you since you came with this AU, anyway have a great day/evening and don't be shy about posting about your bridgerton vibe AU I'd love to read it <3

hi pumpkin! thanks soo much for sending in your thoughts i love when people get creative in my inbox! seeing this was actually a very pleasant surprise don’t worry :)

mmmm for my bridgerton hobie x reader au i have done some thoughts ( bc i actually do want to write it i just know it’s going to be a loooong project ), i always imagine hobie as very loose and free. he’s not interested in marriage at all, he more enjoys dabbling in the arts and literature. he’s known for questioning society and certainly gets around with many women ( and men but he’s better at hiding that ). his family is probably desperate to marry him off and give them some sort of honor after he’s tarnished it all. i’d imagine he has siblings that are already married with kids so it’s just him.

then there’s reader, who’s like a delicate little flower. i think she’s sweet and easygoing, always has been. i think she’d be a bit more susceptible to the marriage propaganda because she doesn’t really have much else going for her. she’s very knowledgeable in different languages, she can read and write, she can play instruments, but many men aren’t interested in that. they approach her because she’s the more beautiful thing they’ve ever seen, dazzling in the sunlight, but the moment she opens her mouth they’re kinda . . . turned off. so she’s kinda made herself seem more gentle and dumb. she doesn’t like it but it works for the time being.

so it’s kind of strange(?) when she’s sitting around and gets a caller and low and behold, it’s hobie. she’s heard of him, seen him around. they’ve greeted each other in passing but that’s about as much as they’ve gone. she isn’t too fond of him and he treats her like she has zero brains. the big shocker of finding out she isn’t like the other girls who don’t care too much for anything but the basic hobbies, he’s in shock.

wahhh i’m writing so much but to sum it up, he falls for her, hook, line and sinker just because she fooled him for a minute and he likes the real her. sorryyyy i promise it’s coming but it’s going to be a big project. a big, big project. whoever reads this far, thank you sm and thank you nonnie for bringing your ideas!

#⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 #it’s coming guys i SWEAR #i take multi part things very seriously #requires planning

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revenantghost · 6 months

Text

[20 Question Fic Writer Game]

Tagged by @faindri and @pancake-breakfast!

How many works do you have on AO3?

18! Most are poetry collections, so a lot of smaller stories in one anthology.

What is your AO3 word count?

75,144

What fandoms do you write for?

Trigun is my main squeeze atm (and biggest in general, I have four projects for it which is double anything else--and the highest wordcount, too), but I've written for KinnPorsche, Sabikui Bisco, Danny Phantom, Vampire In The Garden, Sasaki to Miyano, Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, Goncharov (yeah... yeah), The Night Beyond the Tricornered Window, Signalis, Omori, Lycoris Recoil, and The Executioner and Her Way of Life

What are your top five fics by kudos?

No idea and I ain't looking! Trad publishing has me extremely scarred from some nasty comparison wars, so I have kudo and view counts blocked on ALL fics, including mine. From my kudos emails, though, Hallowboned has to be my top fic for sure. Last time I was paying attention most of my other fics didn't pass into triple digits by a long shot

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!!! I adore comments, and I love chatting with folks, it really keeps me motivated and chugging along. I am... very behind on replying to the comments on my last chapter rn because I feel so awful and guilty about having to quit writing

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Uh... I don't write a ton of narrative fics, and I do love me some tragic poetry, but I guess the angstiest collection might be my Signalis one, Observable System Transcendence? But my Omori poem and the Trined Soul collection might be contenders, too

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mean, Trembling Hands is a Trimax fix-it fic, so? Though the Sasaki and Miyano collection, Effortless Dreams, is definitely the most tooth-rotting fluff I've ever slapped onto the page

Do you get hate on fics?

Oh yeah, I've had my poetry called pretentious and also not good enough to be poetry lol. It's been a hot minute since that's happened, people are just jerks sometimes

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I used to! Porn with plot, my beloved. It would be interesting to explore in poetry format, but we'll see if I have the time who wants to commission some poetry porn from me lmao

Do you write crossovers?

Nah, not my cuppa

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah, many moons ago

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that is one of the coolest things fandom does. Loving a thing so much you spend the time to painstakingly transform that art into something you can read and share in another language, bro??? Translators are amazing

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I've worked pretty closely with artists a loooong time ago, but I've only written fics where I'm the sole writer. I have used other writers' ideas and outlines (with their permission, of course), but that's the closest

What's your all-time favourite ship?

I DON'T KNOW?!?! Shipping has never really been my main focus of media typically, but when one digs its teeth into me I go rabid in a completely feral but different way each time.

What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will?

))): All of them

Life feels kinda... really dire atm, it's hard to see ever writing again. However! God I want to finish Hallowboned SO BADLY!!! I have so many chapters written for it that I haven't even posted!!!!! Y'all haven't met Livio yet!!!!!! GAH 3:

What are your writing strengths?

Uh... ??? I'll be real, I've got no idea. I feel like I write so weirdly atm, it's hard for me to analyze in that kinda way

What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to get really excited/into things and flit around and forget to explain or describe things sometimes. Thank god for having been well-trained to edit my own work. Not that I catch it all, but I try!!!

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think it'd really cool, but I'd need a native speaker on hand to make sure I don't fuck it up in my own fic

First fandom you wrote for?

I think my first piece of written fanwork was a Danny Phantom Quizilla thing lmao, I'm old. I don't remember what it was about, just that it was ANGSTY

Favourite fic you've ever written?

Ah?!?! Honestly, each project is so different and written from such a different place, I've got no idea. I'm proudest of Observable System Transcendence being my longest, most consistent project (outside of my Smaugust collection, which isn't a fan project), Hallowboned being the first thing that really inspired me in ages--and the most indulgent one lol. But each collection and fic and poem comes from such a different place, and it's hard to pull them apart and pick???

Tagging:

Whoever wants to hop in! :3

#Yadda yadda #This was fun to poke my head back into fanfic headspace for a moment #Thank you guys for the tag! <3

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wellexcuusemee · 4 months

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so so happy reading all your posts about your girl, you deserve that and i wish you nothing but a lot of happiness, fun, and kinkyness hehe 🩷

AWWW why thank you so much!! I won’t shut up about her omg but I am very happy ✨❤️❤️❤️! That’s very kind of you to say :) I wasn’t looking for a relationship really, and I told her that, but I just sort of happened and last Saturday we really talked it out in person and we both felt ready to enter a real relationship! She’s very sex positive and wants to try out kinks I have and I never thought I’d have somebody like that 😭😭 there’s an extremely small change I’ll tell her about my degenerate fart kink, but that’s not gonna be for a loooong time 😅 probably. Who knows. If I tell her, you’ll know because I won’t be able to shut up‼️‼️

#it’s nice to hear from you again!!!😊 If you wanna chat I’m so down!#I’ve been wanting to reach out lowkey but I always feel like a bother LMAOO #hashtag social anxiety gangggg #farts #farting #eproctophilia #I’m very flattered dude thank you :)

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claire8216 · 6 months

Text

Fic Tag Game

Thanks @fandomscraziness22 for the tag!! 🩵

How many works do you have on AO3? 10! My page says 7 but I have some I've published anonymously.

What's your AO3 word count? 122,718

What fandoms do you write for? It's been a while since I've posted anything but when I do find the motivation to write it's usually Julie and the Phantoms, Outer Banks, or The Summer I Turned Pretty! I've written some for other fandoms too but that was a looong time ago haha.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (Not including the ones I'd like to remain anonymous 😉) - Fire Red and Ocean Blue (TSITP) - I Hate the Way I Don't Hate You (JatP) - Been Counting My Blessings Thinking This Through (OBX) - Something Like That (JatP) - I'm Standing in Your Line (I Do Hope You Have the Time) (JatP)

Do you respond to comments? I really try to respond to every comment, even if it takes me a while to respond! I genuinely appreciate people who take the time to not only read my writing but also share with me their thoughts, so the least I can do is respond back 😊

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oof in general I usually stick to happy endings so there hasn't been a ton of angsty endings! But I once wrote a fic exploring a character navigating the aftermath of the sudden death of his wife. It ends with him bonding with a woman in a bar who had also lost her husband, and they dance together and while it's nice to have some sort of companionship again, there's an unspoken agreement that nothing and no one would ever compare to their late spouses. (Based off the song Ghost of You by 5SOS, specifically the last line!) I don't usually write major character deaths, and I actually ended up taking that one down because it was too sad for me haha.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The rest of my fics pretty much all have HEAs because at my core that's what I enjoy most haha. But my favorite and probably fluffiest ending is Fire Red and Ocean Blue.

Do you get hate on fics? I don't remember ever getting any hate! *knock on wood*

Do you write smut? What kind? I do not, but I always enjoy reading a good smut fic!

Do you write crossovers? No, but I love AUs or fics based off of other books/shows/movies!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Also no haha.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? I've attempted to, a loooong time ago when I was first getting into fanfic. Nothing ever came of it though, we were both, like, 12 so it fizzled haha. I have no idea where that person is today but I hope they're doing well!!

What WIP would you like to finish, but doubt you ever will? Back when s1 of Outer Banks came out I started working on a Jiara one night stand fic and got about halfway done. I still think about it often, but too much has happened in s2 and 3 it just wouldn't make sense anymore and I'd basically have to start from scratch.

What's your all-time favorite ship? This is a tough one! My oldest and most beloved ships will always be Romione and Percabeth. But no ship has ever, and may never again, have me in a chokehold quite like Juke did during the height of my JatP hyperfixation. So one of those three! 😂

What are your writing strengths? Ooo I love a good theme or motif or analogy and bringing everything back around full circle. It makes my little perfectionist virgo brain very happy haha.

What are your writing weaknesses? Sometimes I'll rush through the little details just to get to the main plot points. I constantly have to remind myself to slow down, a sort of "stop and smell the roses" if you will, and set the scene or create unique little character details to make my fics more descriptive.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in a another language for a fic? If it's needed it's needed! I usually will copy/paste and look up the translation if I need to.

First fandom you wrote for? Glee haha. I used to be OBSESSED.

Favorite fic you've ever written? I feel like this answer changes depending on my mood haha. Right now I think it'd have to be Been Counting My Blessings Thinking This Through, but that could totally be recency bias haha. I am very proud of it though!

What fic would you want to rewrite someday? I wrote this PJO (Tratie) fic called Rivers about 10 years ago and to this day the idea behind it is probably one of my favorite ideas I've ever had for a fic. When I reread it now, I can't help but see the writing of a 15 year old girl who had no idea what she was talking about and was unable to execute it in the way I wanted to in my mind haha. I always tell myself I'm going to rewrite it, and maybe with the show coming out soon, it'll inspire me to!

This was so fun!! Tagging @story-courty @bex2313 and @writerownstory and anyone else who wants to participate!

#tag games #fanfiction #ao3 #long post #claire8216 fics

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taexual · 1 month

Note

Sleepwalking is easily the best fic I’ve read in a loooong time ! The slow burn is so good 🤭 I love jungkook in this he’s sooo sweet and I’m so glad he wasn’t actually as bad as oc thought he was during their relationship so they can get back together 😆 Love it. Do you know when you’ll post the next chapter yet?

thank you so much, my love 🥺🥺 communication really is key in relationships!!!

and yes yes, i am hoping to post it tomorrow (friday)! it'll be a long chapter (again), so it's taking a bit longer, but i'm very exciteddd for it!!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

#ask #anonymous #taexual; sleepwalking #thank you for reading and for looking forward to it!!!! 🤍🤍🤍🤍#i'm literally editing the next chapter rn as we speak!!

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persephoneflouwers · 1 year

Note

So I read your posts about Saturdays and I agree with your analysis, I liked them a lot, thanks for making them because I couldn't put some thoughts into words like you did. What I was going with this anon is that I don't understand why when Louis sang it live there was a sea of rainbows. I'm not against it or anything, I really love everything and the different interpretations seem perfect to me. But I don't understand how they connect Saturdays with something related to the community? I ask you why you can explain me better. I thought that maybe how the melody can convey hope to you, something like "yes, we said that Saturdays take away the pain but it's not always like that, and that's fine" and as if as the song progresses everything intensifies until it reaches the boom and yell "today may not be okay, my heart may be broken, but this isn't always going to be this way either, and it's okay because I'm going to be!" I don't know if what I said is logical but it's just thoughts I had at 1:30 am hahaha sorry for bothering you, I hope you're well :))

Hi angel! How are you? Thank you for asking. Saturdays is a layered song, it’s not easy to extract the true meaning and obviously every analysis is personal and super-valid. I was surprised to see the rainbows during the song ngl! Saturdays is such a melancholic song and maybe people like to involve it during fan actions because the slow tempo and the emotional burden it carries help building an intimate moment with all the flags and colours. Personally I would choose different songs for rainbows (bigger than me would be my first choice!).

If we go a bit through the lyrics of Saturdays, they don’t stand out as very queer to me. But that’s my interpretation and I can’t really talk over how a song can resonate for other fans. There are some lines that can recall this image of belonging to a queer community. For example “I’m not supposed to be feeling dirty cheap in Silver street”. It can be read as “i’m alone (dirty cheap) in a crowd (silver street)”, like a way of saying he struggles to find his place in a community where he doesn’t feel like he belongs entirely because he’s not out? Is he acknowledging the fact that his public image doesn’t meet the community standards in a way? Idk. This feels a bit forced and too much projection imo. That’s why my interpretation of the song goes in a complete different direction.

What I find extremely interesting when it comes to Louis’s songs is how constant such themes happen to be. Of course, I don’t know what they mean to him but this consistency helps me figure out.

He mentions change/changes/changing a lot in his songs. There are songs where he says change is inevitable and others where he says nothing changes. I don’t think he is contradicting himself (possible, but I like to give things a deep meaning usually). I think he refers to changes in different ways because he’s approaching changes in different moments, situations. I will elaborate my thoughts a bit. And I’m sorry this is taking so long to reply… anyway. Let’s report how many times Louis talks about this topic in his songs:

The Greatest: time came and changed it all

Bigger Than Me: when somebody told me I would change

Saturdays: some things change

Common People: nothing’s changed

Holding Onto Heartache: the nights they changed in seasons

Change: everything has changed, but I feel the same inside.

High in California: spent my whole life just thinking I had to change

COACOAC is the epitome of things that don’t change.

I listened to walls after a loooong time and AFAIK this topic/word are not in it. There are references to changes VS something that remains the same tho. Habit, Always you etc give this idea of a person/a thing that stays when everything around is somehow changing. Surprisingly Perfect Now has the line don’t ever change, which made my heart happy cause I love PN and she didn’t deserve the treatment she got starting from Louis and from all fans too but alas.

Where I am going with this is clearly change(s) are a huge topic in Louis’ music. I know my method of analysis is too scientific but making a list of how he approaches the topic in his songs allows me to distinguish 2 big categories that I will label as “Change YES” and “Change NO” lol.

I can’t go on for ever about this, I’ll cut it short. To me, when he wants to talk about the person he is or wants to be, about his personal journey with his sexuality, inner struggles and/or inner emotional fights, his resolution is clear: he’s not changed. He embraces it and accepts it (when you know, you know in OTB / I can tell you’re the same as me in ATT / all the above mentioned examples). My point is when he speaks on his queerness experience or the perception of it, he seems pretty sure he can’t change. Just to elaborate it a bit: somebody told him he would change in BTM, meaning he hasn’t changed and we knew already because he had made it pretty clear in Change and obviously in COACOAC.

When he’s talking about daily life things, ordinary things… well shit happens and he knows it. He knows some events can happen that will change more or less you and the way you go on with your days. Events like grief, hiatus, decisions from when you were 18… do you see what I mean?

That’s a pretty safe key for me to interpret his songs actually. Of course, I may be wrong! But til now, this Change YES/NO algorithm (lol) has helped me navigate his lyrics with a clear idea in mind. My opinion might be a little biased since I associate the poetics of Saturday as a concept to the poets I’ve read before with the theory of pleasure and stuff, but it makes sense to me like this for now!

We could write a similar post about the way he drops light/dark theme too, but that’s another story.

Hope this answered your question and thank you for asking <3

#saturdays is my second child #and all the tags for saturdays #waiting to post my saturdays commentary post #i can finally write down my saturdays analysis #i will not ruin the party with my take on saturdays #saturdays analysis #saturdays by louis tomlinson #lyrics analysis #fitf lyrics

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snailythefan · 1 year

Note

You have made some interesting posts about how Kris may dislike Ralsei, while being forced by the SOUL to act like they like him. (And Ralsei looked fairly sinister in that one panel) Could you expound on that?

OHOHOOHOHO you guys know i love talking about my ships so of course i SHALL

Man get ready for yet another loooong post of my thought process on those particular pieces (I might be repeating myself because I've explained this in the past I think? But I am always happy to talk about my hcs)-

So, first of all, this all derives from me being a strong believer in the "ralsei is kris' old headband" theory and all that implies.

Based on that theory, I am assuming that Ralsei is a manifestation of what Kris might have wanted to be like when they were very young (a goat monster that fits with their family and is someone that everyone likes because they're Super Nice).

But Kris moved way past that when we start deltarune, and because of the way they don't seem to especially like ralsei or how we get the general idea that they're quite the troublemaker, I read that as "They became disillusioned with the idea of what they wanted to be when they were younger, and thus, would dislike seeing that in someone else"

Therefore, Kris doesn't like Ralsei that much (ehem BUT I DIDN'T SAY HATE! I genuinely think they're at a basic friendship level for now, but they don't have a bond as strong as Kris and Susie have, u feel?)

So for that reason, for me kralsei as it is right now is quite one sided! It's super obvious Ralsei has feelings for Kris, or at least he has a huge favoritism for them. (I like that about it because I am a sucker for angst and yearning, but allow me to elaborate further!)

So- Here comes The Player. We get many options throughout the game to hug Ralsei and generally be super nice and sweet to him, because of course WE would love the fluffy boy right? (How can you not love him????!!!!)

...But Kris just doesn't like him as much as we do. The strongest proof of this is that the only person they want to take to the festival is Susie. They are confused when we make them say that they'd like to take Ralsei to the fest. So that's just a canon fact, Ralsei likes Kris very very much but it's just not reciprocated.

(It haunts me!)

>Ralsei looked fairly sinister in that one panel

And ohohoho, to continue onto my reasons-

So we all know how Ralsei is kinda weird in that "he knows a bit too much, and he seems like he is hiding something" way right?

Part "he knows exactly why Kris doesn't like him (ehem, discarded headband)", part "hiding he knows about the player control" I think Ralsei is in a difficult position.

He wants to be loved by Kris, but... (Well this part is fuzzy for me because we JUST aren't privy to Ralsei's true intentions as of now)

Is he loyal to the player because he is forced in some way to play a role in the narrative of deltarune?

Even while being forced to play a role in the story, he still wants to help Kris because he loves them?

We don't know! Either way, you can see why "Kris doesn't like me" is a problem for him. It either means that he's failing at his role, or that his true feelings aren't attainable. It's the sort of thing that might drive a Darkner to madness :)

(This ALSO haunts me!)

um, thank you very much for your question! I LOVE speculating about Ralsei a lot!!!!!!!!!!!!

#readasaur #ask box

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ineffable-masquerade · 9 months

Text

Bio, da loooong way

in case u dont get the joke in the title, click here.

______________________________________________________________

What this post is about

My little description post for stuff about me that goes more in depth about what I like and a little about my personality. Keep in mind I am in the baby stages of my tumblr blog development since I'm still a kid, so my blog is prone to rapidly change. I mainly reblog stuff, but it's still a cool blog so if you want funny stuff, cool art, and the occasional miscellaneous tumblr post.

Anyways here's a little description about me:

A tiny little goofball, I am. A smart one I'd say. A genius, even. I am transfem and bisexual. Please for the love of god do not look at my likes or who I am following💀

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Games/communities/shows(will be added soon) I enjoy

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Communities I am "in" (I don't directly participate in any community stuff for anything yet) besides when I went to a pride parade once):

Guilty Gear Strive community, Omega Strikers community, LGBTQ+ community (i feel like that was a given), Super Smash Brothers series community.

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Games I play:

Super Smash Brothers Ultimate, Roblox (only the good ones on there, ask me for the specific ones I like if you want. If someone asks, I will include them here later.), Slay the Spire, Peglin, Omega Strikers, Bloons TD6, and Hades. I also like FNaF World, it's just a pleasant game.

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Games I spectate (not play, but watch):

Super Smash brothers Melee (and a little of the others here in there, like Smash bros 64 combo tournaments), Guilty Gear Strive, and a little bit of SF6 here and there.

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List of blorbos:

ALL OF THE BYTE BREAKERS (from omega strikers)

All 3 of the Byte Breakers happen to be my 3 favorite characters in Omega Strikers. I love the entire cast of Omega strikers, but these 3 not only are on the same team but are also just the three parts of my personality and I LOVE IT. Anyways, If you wanna see who they are, here are some VERY short descriptions/my thoughts on them:

Finii

she's my spirit animal

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Zentaro

He's cool. He just runs around my mind slicing random objects and it makes me happy.

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Ai.Mi

She's a sassy, heterochromatic, cute catgirl with amazing design and an awesome personality.

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Edit: finally expanding this list cuz I actually have watched some stuff now, starting off with:

Gojo Satoru from Jujitsu Kaisen

He's just... so funny. And cool. And hot.

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Wow, you actually read all that. Thanks I guess. All my original posts are tagged as "#Masquerade's babbling", any art I reblog is tagged as "#art", any memes I make or reblog are tagged as "#meme", there's also some "#hornyposting" but I try to keep it at a minimum since I am a minor (I'm not very good at doing that so bear with me), and if you just wanna see my handpicked soup of content that is my blog, just go in raw. If there's anything I forget to tag, tell me so I can make my trash can look more polished.

#masquerade's babbling

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silenzahra · 2 months

Note

🥰 for the writing prompt? Writer's choice!

Referring to this post ✨

This fic was loooong overdue! I am really sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, but I hope it was worth the wait! 🙏

Thank you sooooo much for sending me this prompt! It has truly melted my heart to work on this idea 🥺 I really hope you like it! 💖

Are you ready for some brotherly fluff? 🤭💚❤️

Here's the link to AO3 in case you'd rather read it there! ✨

Wordless Love

When Luigi arrives home, Mario still hasn't returned.

Luigi sighs and closes the door behind him. The pipes in the castle really must be clogged. He wonders if he should come to his brother's aid, but he knows that, if Mario needed his help, he would have called him.

Besides, this gives Mario and Peach a chance to spend some more time together.

With a somewhat amused smile, Luigi leaves the toolbox on the entrance cabinet and hangs his hat on the rack. He's feeling very tired after a long day of single-handedly serving his Brooklyn clients, and all he feels like doing is taking a shower, grabbing a quick dinner, and going to bed.

But he can't go to sleep without Mario. Even though he knows his big brother is safe and sound in Princess Peach's castle, Luigi needs Mario to, at least, be home so he can fall asleep.

So he heads to the bathroom and takes a fast, but warm and relaxing shower. When he finishes, and since Mario isn’t home yet, Luigi opts to leave everything ready to make dinner later and goes out into the garden.

It's cool, as autumn is coming to the Mushroom Kingdom, but that doesn't stop him. Luigi smiles as he walks through his small garden, the one he has cultivated with so much care and attention since he and Mario moved there. He looks closely at each plant, each flower, and makes sure to irrigate the ones that need some water. He talks to each and every one of them, tells them how beautiful they are that night, and quietly sings a little song during his walk. He also makes sure to check that the automatic watering system he installed with Mario's help is still working perfectly, and smiles to himself, satisfied, after verifying that it is.

These flowers, this garden, are his pride and joy. Every day he’s more and more happy for the good fortune of having a small corner in which to raise his favorite flowers. When he lived in Brooklyn he had to make do with a couple of flowerpots, but, in the Mushroom Kingdom, there’s room for all the plants in the world. So, without a second thought, Luigi transplanted his first two flowers and, since then, he’s grown many more.

And now his beloved garden looks beautiful in broad daylight as well as under the faint, bright glow of the full moon. Each flower has a particular beauty and scent, and Luigi has learned to recognize each one by its fragrance before he even sees them.

When he re-enters the house, he realizes that he has spent a whole hour outside, walking among his plants and singing to them. However, just as he closes the garden door behind him, the front door, which is opposite him on the other side of the living room, opens at last.

“Mario!” he exclaims as soon as he sees him enter, and runs towards him. “You’re back!”

Before his brother has time to drop his tools or close the door behind him, Luigi pounces on him. Mario lets out a loud laugh of surprise and staggers back a little at his impetus but does not hesitate to return his brother's embrace with the same heartiness.

“Yeah, I’m back,” he mumbles, laughing, as he pats Luigi’s back.

They smile at each other as they part, happy to be together again. Luigi takes Mario’s hat from him and hangs it on the rack next to his.

“Looks like there was a lot of work at the castle today, right?” he says meanwhile.

“Oh, you just can’t imagine!” Mario exclaims, dropping his tools any which way on the entrance cabinet. “I think we’d better go together next time. We’ll simply postpone all the appointments we have with our Brooklyn customers.”

Smiling, Luigi carefully sets each tool in its place inside the toolbox he’s been carrying all day.

“I thought about coming to help you,” he admits, “but I didn’t know if you’d be... busy.”

He wonders if Mario will understand what he’s referring to, if he'll catch the hidden meaning beneath that one word, but he senses he'll have to keep that joke to himself.

“Busy?” Mario looks at him with a raised eyebrow, confused. “What do you mean by that?”

Luigi lets out a low chuckle as he places the last tool.

“It’s nothing, don’t mind me,” he says, amused, and grabs Mario’s hand to lead him to the kitchen. “Come on! Are you hungry? How about I make you a lasagna?”

“Lasagna?” Mario repeats, his face suddenly lighting up like a lighthouse in the middle of the darkest night. “But of course! What kind of question is that?”

Luigi lets out a chuckle, cheerful and touched in equal parts. His brother will never change, and Luigi adores him more and more every day for that.

Amid jokes and laughter, the brothers enter the kitchen. Luigi, after putting on his green apron with a pattern of orange flowers, starts cooking immediately, and Mario, instead of sitting down, stands next to him and passes him the ingredients and utensils needed to prepare the lasagna. In the meantime, he tells Luigi how his day has been, as they separated in the morning to go to work in different places, and explains how difficult it was to unblock all the pipes in the castle. Then, always ready to listen to him, Mario asks Luigi how his day has been, but Luigi, more focused on the cooking, shrugs and quickly summarizes what has been a very normal working day for him.

“And how’s Peach?” he asks casually as they wait for the lasagna to be ready. “How did things go with her?”

“Just as usual.” This time it’s Mario who shrugs, but Luigi doesn’t fail to notice that a slight blush is now covering his brother’s cheeks. “You know her. She’s very... kind and sweet. Just as usual,” he repeats, looking away.

Luigi covers his mouth with his hand to hide a giggle. He would love to hear more, to encourage Mario to tell him more about those feelings that have undoubtedly blossomed in his heart after meeting the beautiful princess, but Luigi doesn't insist. He knows his brother so well that he’s convinced he will open up when the time comes, when he feels ready, and Luigi wouldn't want to pressure him for anything in the world.

It doesn't take long for the lasagna to be ready at last. As he does every night, Luigi serves his brother first, and smiles at the keenness with which Mario takes the first bite. As he sits down, his plate already full, he notices his brother's satisfied expression, and the soft "Mmm!" Mario emits as he chews causes Luigi’s smile to widen.

“My goodness, Luigi,” Mario exclaims admiringly. “Your cooking gets better every day!”

Luigi blushes and laughs nervously.

“Th-thank you,” he stammers, embarrassed, before starting to eat too.

During dinner, however, Luigi realizes something that makes him uneasy: his brother is tired. More than him, even. Luigi knows this because Mario, who usually talks non-stop between bites, remains silent this time, just centered on savoring the lasagna, a clear indication that his energy has diminished considerably since he came back home. Luigi sees it in his eyelids, which appear somewhat droopy, no doubt exhausted and eager to close until the next day. Luigi senses it in the slowness with which Mario gradually puts the food into his mouth. Still, every time their eyes meet, Mario gives him warm smiles and makes sure to keep telling him how delicious he finds the lasagna.

Luigi loves to cook and always feels flattered that his brother so enthusiastically enjoys the dishes he lovingly prepares for him.

But tonight there is something more important.

Tonight is not just about having dinner with Mario and spending some quality time with him before going to bed, but also about taking care of his exhausted older brother.

“Come on,” he says as he gets up, once they’ve both finished dessert. “How about I run you a hot bath to help you relax?”

Mario smiles, and his grin, although full of affection as always, is also a true reflection of the fatigue that plagues him from within.

“I’d love that, Lu.”

Determined, Luigi begins to pick up the dishes, but, when he’s about to start washing them, meaning to do it quickly so that he can take care of Mario, he senses some fingers on his shoulder that make him turn around. He meets again his brother’s sweet smile, who reaches out his other hand to take the plate that Luigi had grabbed.

“I’ll wash them,” Mario offers.

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” Luigi refuses, worried that Mario’s tiredness will increase.

“I insist, Lu.” Mario, unwilling to surrender, gives him a gentle and playful hip thrust to softly push him away. “You made dinner. It’s only fair.”

Luigi knows Mario's determined expression too well to know there's no point in trying to stop him. Defeated, he agrees to step away from the kitchen sink with a resigned sigh and watches his brother with a hand on his hip.

“All right, you win,” he concedes, at which Mario’s smile widens. “I’ll go draw your bath.”

Mario nods with a chuckle as he does the dishes, and Luigi takes off his apron, which he had inadvertently left on during dinner, and goes into the bathroom. The first thing he does is close the door and turn on the heater to warm up the room. After putting the plug in the bathtub, he turns on the hot water faucet first and lets the tub fill up a bit before turning on the cold, but not too much. He wants the water to be hot and to last like that long enough for Mario's muscles to relax after today's hard work.

In the meantime, he hangs Mario's bathrobe on the rack next to the tub and places a small towel on a stool in case his brother wants to wash his hair. Luigi also prepares the shampoo, soap and sponge, and puts them on top of the towel so that Mario can reach them from inside the bathtub. He takes the hairdryer out of the cupboard where they keep it and carefully sets it in a corner of the sink, because he knows that Mario does not like to go to bed with wet hair, so he will need it if he decides to wash his head. Luigi quickly leaves the bathroom to go to his bedroom for a moment: he hurriedly opens the top drawer of the dresser they share, takes out Mario's favorite pajamas and returns to the bathroom at lightning speed. He then pours some soothing bath salts into the water and places a towel on the floor, in front of the tub, so that Mario won't slip.

Finally, satisfied with his work, Luigi turns off the faucet, switches off the heater and goes out into the hallway in search of his brother.

“The bath is ready!” he announces with an exaggerated flourish as he enters the kitchen.

Mario laughs, giving him an amused look, and puts the last plate away on the sideboard before following him. Although the bathroom is very close to the kitchen, Luigi guides his brother as if they were inside one of those old mansions with an infinite number of corridors and rooms and opens the door with a graceful bow.

“I hope you find it to your liking, sir,” he says, modifying his voice so that it sounds deep.

Mario lets out a chuckle again but puts his shoulders back and places both hands behind his back as he walks past Luigi into the bathroom.

“Very warm and cozy, butler,” he replies, imitating his brother’s tone.

Luigi, still bent over and with his arm outstretched, is forced to cover his mouth with his other hand to contain the snort that was about to escape from his throat. However, when he straightens up, his laughter is stifled by the tender look, full of gratitude, that Mario, standing in front of him, throws at him.

Then Mario reaches out and wraps an arm around his neck to pull him close, giving him a quick squeeze in which their cheeks squish against the other’s. The moment is so fleeting that Luigi does not have time to raise his arm to reciprocate the gesture of his brother, who, a second before releasing him, turns his head to place a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Lu,” he says, his voice full of warmth. “It’s just what I needed.”

Luigi's heart beats a little faster, full of bliss, and a touched smile blooms on his face as the blood rushes to his cheeks. Despite the fact that Mario showers him in affection quite often, Luigi just can’t help blushing. Inside him, tenderness and emotion intermingle with a certain embarrassment that makes him feel bashful, as he does not think he deserves so much gratitude. After all, he’s taking care of his brother in the same way Mario has taken care of him and watched over him all his life. That's how they’ve always worked and that's how they will continue to work.

Still, he keeps smiling at Mario, who watches him with his warm grin tattooed on his face as he slowly slides shut the bathroom door. On impulse, when there’s barely a small crack left, Luigi raises his hand and waves it in farewell, and Mario, with a chuckle, reciprocates his gesture immediately.

Luigi sighs, satisfied, when the door finally closes. He’s sure that the bath will do Mario good, so he goes to his room to give his brother some space and privacy. He really hopes it will be to his liking and help him relax.

Once in his bedroom, Luigi feels as if the autumn chill has crept into it through a window. He makes sure all of them are closed and opts to turn on the radiator to warm up the bedroom a bit, especially to keep Mario from getting cold when he finishes his bath. Luigi goes over to his brother's bed, uncovers it and grabs the pillows to soften them a bit, since that's how Mario feels most comfortable. He turns on both nightlights, Mario's red one and his green one, and looks around to make sure everything is in order.

As he stands in the center of the room, Luigi feels a huge wave of exhaustion wash over him. His day has not been as hard as Mario's, but he certainly needs to rest too, although he knows he can't do so until his brother goes to bed as well. He doesn't want to pressure him or interrupt his bath, so Luigi takes his time to tidy up the room a bit, uncover his own bed and put on his pajamas.

Just as he finishes buttoning the top of his green and white striped pajamas, he suddenly remembers something. He almost forgot! He rushes hurriedly out of his room and into the kitchen. Trying to go slowly so as not to break anything with his usual clumsiness, Luigi pulls a glass from the cupboard, fills it with fresh milk and pops it into the microwave.

He’s walking past the bathroom just as the sound of the hairdryer reaches his ears. Luigi sighs in relief, for he knows what that means: his brother will be out in no more than five minutes, so he will find the glass of hot milk waiting for him on his bedside table, where Luigi carefully places it. Satisfied, he picks up the book waiting on his own nightstand and goes to the living room to sit in his rocking chair, where he plans to read while waiting for Mario.

The book is so interesting that it grabs his attention right away, making him lose track of time. When the bathroom door finally opens, Luigi realizes that he has read ten pages almost without blinking. He smiles to himself, for he's loving the story he's reading, and places the bookmark between the pages before looking up.

As he does so, Luigi lets out a little chuckle: his brother, standing in the doorway, has skin almost redder than his pajama top. Mario, hearing him, smiles with resignation.

“I overdid it with the hot water, didn’t I?” he says with a laugh, heading for the bedroom.

“A little,” Luigi replies, amused, going after him.

This time it is Mario who holds the door for him, and Luigi gives him a nod and a chuckle as he enters the room. Gently and smiling, Mario takes the book from his hands and goes to Luigi's bedside table to leave it there, while Luigi, somewhat surprised, closes the door behind him and walks to his bed as well.

After dropping the book, Mario turns to face him. Luigi stops in front of his brother and wonders if, perhaps, Mario wants to tell him something or ask him for something else before going to sleep.

But his brother doesn't utter a word: with a warm smile on his lips, he raises his arms and wraps them around Luigi, resting his chin on his shoulder and placing a hand on the back of his neck to bring him closer. Despite his initial astonishment, Luigi immediately relaxes in his big brother's arms and, with a smile, lifts his arms to wrap them around Mario's waist as he closes his eyes. His brother, patting his back gently and running his fingers through his hair at the back of his neck, lets out a deep and resounding sigh while still hugging him tightly.

“Thank you for always taking care of me, Lu,” he whispers, his lips close to Luigi’s ear.

“Oh.” Luigi lets out a nervous giggle. “You don’t have to thank me, Mario. That’s what brothers do, right?”

Luigi feels him laugh in his arms.

“I’m certainly lucky to have you as a brother.”

Luigi's heart warms up, overwhelmed by a deep emotion. He feels his eyes moisten and he embraces his brother with more strength and affection, hoping, wishing, that his way of hugging him will be enough to let Mario know that he is the one who feels fortunate to have him as his big brother. If he had nothing else, if he were homeless and jobless and could not find anything to eat every day, he would still feel the luckiest man in the world if he still had Mario by his side. He doesn't need anything else to be happy.

They remain like this, embraced, Luigi's hands on Mario's back and waist, Mario's hands on the back of Luigi's neck and back, for a time they cannot, and will not, determine. Wrapped in a warmth that comes from both the radiator and their own hearts, the brothers enjoy those brief moments of peace and safety in each other's arms, in which, without the need for words, they express how much they love the other and how important they are to each other.

With a sigh, Mario begins to pull away from Luigi, very slowly, as if he doesn't really want to, and Luigi understands, for he too is reluctant to end the contact. His brother slides his hand from the back of his neck to his cheek and watches him intensely, his blue eyes glistening with emotion.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And Luigi knows, with absolute certainty, that Mario is speaking from the heart, as he always does when he expresses his affection towards him, as deep as Luigi's for him. With a heartfelt smile, Luigi raises a hand and places it on Mario's.

“I will always be here for you,” he promises, looking into his eyes.

With tenderness shining in his, Mario widens his smile and carefully begins to gently press Luigi's head down as he does the same. Luigi, knowing what his brother intends, lets himself be guided without hesitation and closes his eyes for a second before their foreheads meet. The sigh they release, in unison, as if they had rehearsed it, is deep, intense, and reflects all the peace and serenity that this touch makes them both feel.

“And I for you, Lu,” Mario answers in a soft whisper.

When, seconds later, they raise their heads, they give each other one last smile, as full of love as all the smiles they’ve shared since the day they were born. Mario caresses his cheek while Luigi gives him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, and then he softly gasps when, suddenly, he remembers something.

“I almost forgot,” he says with a chuckle as he walks over to Mario’s bedside table.

He carefully takes the glass of milk in his hands and turns to his brother, who beams enthusiastically as he sees what Luigi is offering him.

“Thank you, Lu!” he exclaims, accepting the glass.

Luigi smiles, moved at the eagerness and speed with which Mario drinks the hot liquid. When he finally finishes it, he lets out a sigh of pleasure and Luigi covers his mouth to hold back a giggle, not only because of his brother's satisfied expression, but also because of the spot that glistens under his moustache. Mario looks at him with a raised eyebrow, though he laughs too, and Luigi reaches over to his nightstand for a napkin to wipe his brother's face. The latter lets him do it and they share a last moment of knowing laughter.

Luigi then takes the glass from his brother's hands and goes to the kitchen to wash it. Before leaving the bedroom, he hears Mario drop like a bundle on the mattress, and when he returns, as he expected, he finds him lying on top of the sheets any which way. With a giggle that is both amused and tender, Luigi comes to his side: he slowly pulls back the sheets from under Mario's body and carefully covers him with them. Mario, eyes closed, smiles and snuggles in, and Luigi gently tucks him in and places a kiss on his cheek.

“Good night, Mario,” he whispers. “Sleep well.”

Mario's smile widens and a deep sigh escapes from his lips. Luigi, hoping that his brother will indeed sleep well that night, gives him a gentle caress on his hair before turning off the radiator and heading, at last, to his own bed.

And just as he is about to turn off his lamp, the last light still on in the room, he hears a sleepy, exhausted voice coming from his brother's bed:

“Good night, Lulu.”

#super mario bros #super mario fanfic #mario #luigi #mario bros #mario fanfic #mario and luigi #cute brothers #brotherly love #please don't tag as ship #PLEASE DON'T SHIP THEM #asks #fanfic asks #ask #writer asks #answered asks #my fics #my fanfics #silenzahra

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