The Mario movie was cute, best scenes are the ones with the bros just being. Bros.
Peppino is their cousin. That's it, that's the funny.
And per tradition? I guess? Some more (unfortunately Mario-less) doodles under the cut.
... Yeah. Twinsomnia again. These damn sibs are still on my brain. They're here to - Oh? Oh, Peppino's not a kid? They had the wrong address? Oh well. Might as well help him get through the tower!
Something-something functioning as a single character, something-something throwing each other around, something-something basically Gus and Brick.
Some more self-indulgent crossover'ish nonsense...
Same mirror, same man, different time, different reflections. Shoutout to @/rascal-rose for the idea of young Peppino having curly hair!! I cherish him.
And some wholesome stuff to top it off. (I feel like my handwriting is especially bad on the last one, so just in case, it goes "Buongiorno, ranocchio. Do you want the coffee?".)
410 notes
·
View notes
your incessant shivering is getting the attention of your companion, the IUDEX OF FONTAINE.
by some miraculous fate, you and monsieur neuvillette are stuck together; caught by the rain. it is pouring, droplets hitting the ground sound more like lightning striking the earth. shelter, for now, is under the aquabus stop heading for court de fontaine—it does provide some roof over your heads, but it is cold and the iudex is boring holes on you.
his intense staring causes you to shiver more if possible. out of all the days you get caught in the rain, it had to be with him who had certainly impeccable timing with you leaving the opera epiclese to go home after an arduous trial.
well. looking at the bright side, at least you can go home. days where you were stuck at the palais mermonia due to tall stacks of papers can be counted with two hands and backwards.
you sigh. it'd do you some good to contemplate on a career change…
"excuse me." something warm covers your shoulders, "please, take my jacket."
monsieur neuvillette's jacket is draped over your being and it leaves no room for argument. you're too preoccupied by the abrupt surge of warmth coursing through your veins and manifesting as butterflies in your stomach. the soft insides of the cloth turn damp from your wet clothes, but his jacket…
you're gaping at him, possibly, because monsieur neuvillette levels you with a slow nod, gently muttering, "do not worry about me. you need it more than i."
then he looks away, watching the raindrops shatter on the ground each time they reach the earth.
"m-monsieur, i—"
"i am sorry for the inconvenience," his own apology swallows your own. "this weather is hardly ideal for returning home after working such a long trial. i should have thought of those who would be taking the trip home. it seems that…"
monsieur neuvillette's words drift off into the wind; whatever he said escaping him.
"do you… require more heat?"
you're staring at him like you did moments ago.
"no, i… monsieur, i thought it strange to apologize for the sudden change of weather. the rain hardly merits an apology, sir; you make it sound like it is unnatural the rain is summoned after such a long, exhausting case."
monsieur neuvillette is an individual seemingly cold; unfeeling; stern. you know this firsthand that such a disposition is required for a man of his position—he is the chief justice of the nation, therefore such presence is needed.
but you argue that he is not all what they perceive him to be. the soft furrowing of his brows and the thoughtful expression on his countenance are other sides of him—it surprises you, you have never seen the iudex look so human.
"i was under the impression the rain is a burden; an inconvenience." slight surprise is vibrant on his features.
now it is your turn to furrow your brows. "who told you that?"
reluctance looks strange on monsieur neuvillette, but in some way it fits him. he speaks slowly, "most of whom i've met would prefer not to wait out in the rain."
the image of him by your side is replaced by the rainfall in front of you. it shocks you slightly that what remains is a drizzle but the rain is still there—yet, you brush the feelings of surprise away to ponder on his words.
"…rain is a blessing. it is nature at its finest, and the feelings of the mighty hydro dragon being released as the beauty of the world."
the conclusion you reach is simple.
water is the source of life, and if rain is the sign of life flourishing, then what is there to hate? what is there to consider a burden?
"i see."
when you look back at monsieur neuvillette, you find yourself enraptured. a less closer look would miss that soft smile of his, barely there and ghosting his face. it creates an image much unlike his usual self and it becomes difficult to tear your gaze away.
then those eyes turn to you; pearlescent in glimmer; beautiful in color. the weather is beyond you because solely monsieur neuvillette's question enters in your senses: "and pray tell, when have you thought such a thing?"
by some miraculous fate, the words used in your response seem so right.
"just… by looking at you, monsieur."
(if you looked, the rain stopped.)
97 notes
·
View notes
I've been falling off the quackity sexyman train despite having made a propaganda post for him, but it's 4am and i'm kind of obsessed with the idea of him winning now. i was fully ready to call it here and maybe i will be again tomorrow but right now. quackity covered in blood, quackity increasingly desperate as everyone he knows falls around him, quackity alone in the world against a bunch of strangers who have all murdered his friends, that kind of melodramatic imagery as well as the 4am insanity that lets me actually think about dream smp lore again in the way it deserves—i don't know, guys, i actually think it would kick the most ass ever if he managed to win.
one of the things that draws me to cquackity the most is his rage. he's always so confident in the righteousness of his anger, in the inherent justice of his cause, and god knows he gets into fights. especially fights he knows he can't win. he gets so caught up in his convictions, and his trauma is so, so clear in everything he does. you can see this in his fierce anger against perceived injustices, in his constant need to prove himself, in his desperation, in his short-sightedness being his own downfall, again and again and again. but he gets back up! he gets back up every fucking time! even at the end, he gets up and he rebuilds because he literally cannot do it any other way. he can make himself into something abhorrent, but he can't give up and die.
i won't campaign against joe hills, who has also thoroughly earned my respect, but i will keep campaigning for quackity, the last member of the dream smp left standing. the only one, in the end, to hold his fucking ground and fight to the bitter end. and he will fight, because there's never been another choice for him.
dear god, i want him to win. i want him to win for every one of his fallen friends, enemies and allies that should have been stronger than him, but fell while he slipped through the cracks into another slim margin of victory. i want him to win for himself, because no matter how awful he is, he's a goddamn masterpiece in his own right. i want him to win for me, because i am fucking insane about him.
and win or lose, i think i am going to write a goddamn fic.
anyway, dsmp people, vote for quackity. he's the final girl we deserve.
459 notes
·
View notes