Next Level Bro

     “Oh, that’s-a Geno! He’s-a my...”

...Mario trails off. Did he ever formally tell them about his... association with Geno? He’s sure he told them of their adventures together in the past, but...

     “My... eheh...”

touch starved

my parents never told me they are proud of me

i love Stuff

im so fucken tired please god just let me rest for 5 minutes

     Walks by with a Kerokero Cola in hand.

     “—I’m-a right here, bro.”

   Sighs wistfully.

     Unamused stare. Walks up behind Luigi and gently smacks the back of his head.

     Walks by with a Kerokero Cola in hand.

     “Eh–, uh, freshening up-a!”

Well, that was a tad of a far cry from Mario’s initial excuse. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize this, and perhaps surmise an ulterior motive – likely the root cause of this strange behavior – was at play. The silence of the bathroom is broken ever so slightly by the sound of a creaky medicine cabinet opening, but it’s about all the response Geno’s insistent fretting elicits up until the star-doll moves to jiggle the doorknob.

At that point, things get loud – louder than they should be.

     “–-WAIT!” comes a startled yelp erupting from beyond the door, followed by the clattering sound of bottles hitting the floor, and… KA-THUNK.

Silence falls over the room once more… until…

…

A quiet whimper and a soft ‘owie’ seeps through the door. Whatever just happened, it definitely wasn’t hair care or an exfoliating face wash.

was that seriously his excuse?  just freshening up didn’t fall under… whatever this was. there were no sounds of a toothbrush, a hairbrush, the electric razor, or any running tap. it almost sounded like nothing was happening at all. geno could dare say that mario was the most happening guy around, so this was already very out-of-character. the shakiness of his voice only further convinced him that something wasn’t as it should have been.

KA-THUNK.

well, he wasn’t going to go in, but plans very quickly changed when the clangorous mayhem began. his heart leapt and his body reacted without further thought, pushing the door open regardless of etiquette. that didn’t sound like freshening up. it sounded like certain pain.

     “Euhhh... ohh...”

Dizzily, Mario sits up, revealing a better view of some rather nasty-looking wounds littered across his body. Most were tended to, wrapped tightly in gauze and bandages, but what was left visible were large splotchy burn marks wrapped around his sides, various scratches climbing up and down his arms, and a large half-wrapped claw mark cutting across his left shoulder. They were noticeably fresh, different from the many years of scars he already had.

Hands drop from his head, and eyes drift up--

     “---Hyeek--!”

continued from here || @sternenteile

     It was incredibly odd indeed. 

Although Mario behaved much like his old self, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, even his most extremes seemed strangely subdued. Not only did he shy away from physical contact at times, but he seemed to move in strange ways, as though something were burdening him. It was noticeably out of character for the man who even bounced about when idling.

That night, Mario welcomed Geno’s company. Luigi had gone to bed early, and had been out for quite some time, allowing Mario and Geno to enjoy their time together. It went by without much of a hitch; enjoying some snacks, showing each other funny photos on their phones, babbling on about the what-ifs and what-coulds. Yet, through it all, Mario came off as hesitant, and it was when the two began to get physically affectionate that he backed off. He tried to reciprocate the best he could, but it seemed lazy, pained almost. At this point, he excused himself to the bathroom.

For what was supposedly a nightly routine going on behind the door, the bathroom was incredibly quiet. Not a sound came from a running faucet, no shuffling of feet, no spitting from a rinse cup. When Geno approached the door and knocked, a quiet alarmed squeak came in response, followed by a sharp hiss. A beat would pass before an actual verbal reply came.

     “Al-, almost-a!” Spoken in an upbeat, yet noticeably hoarse voice. 

Surely, this was no bathroom break.

oh yeah, that’s fine.  —— except it entirely isn’t. the answer is clearly dissatisfactory, as geno hasn’t conceded and left him be. instead, he leans against the door, pressing his ear against it to discern any possible, telltale noises. as he thought, there is a whole lot of nothing to be had.

❝ almost what? ❞ he hates to sound patronizing, but it comes from a place of good intention. there’s no waving him away so easily. the desire to shove the door wide open is even stronger now, but he keeps it well at bay. he’ll only go that far if permissible… or if there’s any immediate danger, of course.

     “Eh--, uh, freshening up-a!”

Well, that was a tad of a far cry from Mario’s initial excuse. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize this, and perhaps surmise an ulterior motive -- likely the root cause of this strange behavior -- was at play. The silence of the bathroom is broken ever so slightly by the sound of a creaky medicine cabinet opening, but it’s about all the response Geno's insistent fretting elicits up until the star-doll moves to jiggle the doorknob.

At that point, things get loud -- louder than they should be.

     “---WAIT!” comes a startled yelp erupting from beyond the door, followed by the clattering sound of bottles hitting the floor, and... KA-THUNK.

Silence falls over the room once more... until...

...

     …Well, that was a strange sentence. Regardless, Mario opts not to fret too much over it, and instead stand confident as the hero the other man perceived. His smile widens at the mention of an autograph.

     “Oh, yeah! Let’s-a…” Mario reaches down into his pocket and digs a bit. He then pulls his hand out of his pocket, and pats around his midsection as though he were missing something. He was missing a… “Eh-, say, you got a pen?”

Heroic.

   “ Ooh sure! These are my lucky pants, after all! –Also my ONLY pants. ”

   Fry rummaged around in his pockets, noticing that his wallet was missing in Bender’s chest cabinet. Hopefully Mario or Robo Mario didn’t charge for these autographs. “ Ah–! Here y’go! ” The man handed the tiny hero a rather futuristic looking pen, which was smeared with butter. Along with Fry’s hand. “ Awww, I forgot about my pocket butter. ” He just rubbed his buttery hands on his pants and grinned at Mario expectantly.

     What... what is that? Did he hear that right -- butter? Mario hesitantly reaches for the pen, thankful for his trusty gloves, but rightfully disgusted all the same. The pen has a strange look to it, and it wasn’t just because of the butter.

     “Euuuwww... eh, whaddya want me-a to sign...?”

     Uh oh, looks like Mario’s been recognized! No verbal response comes to the strange line of questioning that followed; the plumber instead opts to grin, adjust his hat, lower his body, and–

Jump!

     “Wahoo~!”

     ...Well, that was a strange sentence. Regardless, Mario opts not to fret too much over it, and instead stand confident as the hero the other man perceived. His smile widens at the mention of an autograph.

     “Oh, yeah! Let’s-a...” Mario reaches down into his pocket and digs a bit. He then pulls his hand out of his pocket, and pats around his midsection as though he were missing something. He was missing a... “Eh-, say, you got a pen?”

     Slrrrrrp. Mario took a long sip from his cup of coffee as he intently stared down the book in his hand. Holding his attention, a near completed crossword puzzle, lacking its finishing phrase… 

Eyebrows raise as a solution dawns on him, and it’s when Mario reaches to place down his mug and retrieve his pen that an ear-shattering cry rouses him from his deep concentration. Immediately, the book is hastily tossed to the floor, pen sent flying as Mario jumps up from his comfy recliner and races into the kitchen. He stands in the doorway, immense alarm painted starkly on his face.

     “LUIGI–!” he yells. “What-a happened?!”

   Mario would find Luigi wailing dramatically and cradling his trembling right hand. ❝I burn-a my hand,❞ He whimpered as he hastily turned on the cold-water tap and gingerly placed his afflicted hand under its soothing flow.