honest to fuck, after the year-long March 2020, yâall can celebrate Halloween whenever the fuck you want. Time has no meaning. It has always been March. it will be March forever.Â
So what do I need to give to see how your Mario reacts to the discovery of who Mr. L is. My first born? I'd be willing.
No giving of firstborns required, but I'll take a coffee XD
Skipping the angst this time, I filled my quota with the last long post. The thought of L just knocking back several energy drinks before immediately jumping into the fight was too good.
Something that really stood out to me about Mario as an individual in the movie is his complete and utter refusal to give up, no matter the circumstances. The man gets pummeled twice and takes more hits than a literal punching bag, yet he just keeps on trying. He keeps getting back up. Again and again. To succeed and protect the ones he loves.Â
Having always deeply loved this headcanon for him, I canât tell you guys how delighted I was to see his determination shown so brilliantly throughout the film. He really tries his best, bless him. đđÂ
While exploring ideas that would demonstrate Marioâs incredible strength, I came up with a little scenario in which a wild chain chomp would crash through the castleâs garden, wrecking havoc and very nearly injuring Peach in the process. The raging beast would be stopped (and effectively calmed down) by the courageous plumber, who would then rush to the princessâ side in a panic, immediately inquiring about her well-being.Â
Mario would have no idea that he just achieved an impossible feat; nor would he remotely know that this first ever rescue would become the pivotal moment where Peach irrevocably fell in love with him. đ
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Phew, working with longer formats sure is time-consuming, but I enjoy those nonetheless!^^ Huge thanks to everyone whoâs shown support towards my art lately. I love you guys! đ€
Have some Scar angst featuring Clockers comfort :) Enjoy!!!
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Scar kills Cleo.
He doesnât mean to do it, doesnât mean to break the rules, doesnât mean to hurt his own ally. Itâs still a shock that he even has allies â it is still something that hits him all over again, every time he opens his eyes and they're still there.Â
But Scar kills Cleo. They wonât be there for much longer.Â
âYou dropped it right on her head,â Bdubs says, solemn, and Scar feels sick. His heart is skipping in his chest, his breath is frozen in his lungs. His hands feel like theyâre being assaulted by pins and needles.Â
Heâs made a mistake. Heâd known, of course, that it was only a matter of time, but. Well. Sometimes he likes to pretend.Â
He canât anymore. Not now. Not after that.Â
And Cleo didnât even seem all that mad, is the thing. She hadnât yelled, hadnât even frowned, really. Sheâd been quiet though, at first. And sheâd laughed after, butâ But people could laugh and still be mad, couldnât they? And Bdubs had seemed pretty disappointed.Â
Scar canât do anything right. If they hadnât known that before, they certainly did now.Â
Scar kills Cleo.
 That night, he packs his bags.Â
Itâs not at all hard to sneak out, which is a fun change of pace. Cleo slept like, well, like the dead, and Bdubs had fully mastered the art of sleeping at this point. Nothing short of breaking the bed was going to get him out of it. So Scar just⊠walks by. Heâs got what little possessions heâs collected stored safely in his bag, and the rest heâs left for them. Theyâll make better use of things than he will, heâs sure.Â
The night is clear and quiet, the same stars as always hanging silently in the sky and watching him while he walks. Those little twinkling lights have been witnesses to every misstep and mistake heâs ever made. He was a bit surprised that one of them hasnât yet taken it upon themselves to fall out of the sky and end his misery. Though he supposed that mightâve been the moon's true motive. Maybe it had been rude to avoid the inevitable crash.Â
Tonight, though, the stars stay where they are, and Scar does not.Â
He walks by the Bad Boys burned mansion, the earth around it scorched and bare. He looks up towards the roof for a while, thinking. He almost wants to go up there and find Grian, because at least Grian makes sense. At least Grian hurts him in a way that he is used to.Â
Selfish, he thinks, shaking his head and turning away. Grian never meant it; he isnât cruel. Scar just tends to awaken in people the need to get away, is all. Like how all anyone ever thinks about when carrying a heavy object is a place to put it down.Â
Scar wanders for a bit, dodging mobs as he stumbles through the darkness, until finally the sun starts to rise. Scar drops his bag down at the bottom of a hill and sits down heavily beside it, as dim light transitions to golden rays. Heâs not going to build on a mountain, he resolves. Not this time. Not when heâs trying not to be noticed.
He eats a quick breakfast of steak and bread, heavy silence sitting like a cloak on his shoulders, and then he starts carving a hole into the hill. He spends the rest of the day like that, hollowing out a home as hollow as he feels, ignoring the buzz of his communicator in his pocket. Either someone was trying to get a hold of him, or no one had noticed at all. Heâs not sure which he would prefer, and so he doesnât look. He doesnât look, and he tries his best not to think about it, either. He builds a new base of stone and brick into the hillside, and then he shuts the door behind him and lies in bed and doesnât sleep.Â
There is the steady and faint noise of water leaking through the roof across the room, single drops of water falling in intervals into the bucket heâd placed haphazardly before crawling under the covers. There is the crackling of the oven a few feet away, still warm from the steak heâd cooked earlier. There is the quiet howling of wind from outside, as it tugged on grass and trees and at his door. He can hear himself breathing, can hear it hitch as soon as he becomes aware of it.Â
Heâs cold, and he shivers, tugging the blanket up further as he stares at the ceiling. Thereâs moisture stinging at the corners of his eyes, and there is a lump in his throat, and even though there is no one around to hear he still canât quite break the habit of crying silently.
He wakes up to birds singing, and dried tear tracks on his cheeks. Scar sits in bed for a moment, lost, and then he grabs his hoe and wheat seeds, and he goes outside.Â
There are a few pigs on his hill that he spends an hour herding into a pen, and then he finds a good stretch of land and gets to work tilling it. By the time the seeds are planted and watered, itâs mid afternoon, and Scar jumps straight into cutting down a few trees for wood. His muscles are sore and straining, but still he swings the axe. As evidenced by the unintended brutal murder of his pretend mother, he really doesnât know when to quit.Â
At least now with no one else around, there is no one else to hurt. Itâs just him. Which is fine, really, because heâs done it before. He knows how it goes. This is how they play the game.Â
So Scar is not expecting anyone to come after him. Which is probably why he almost takes Bdubsâ head off with his axe when heâs suddenly just there.
âYouâll clear out the forest at this rate,â Bdubs says casually, very close behind him, and Scar yelps in alarm and spins around mid swing. âMaybe youâ Hey, watch it!â
Itâs only thanks to Bdubs short stature and quick duck that his head remains on his shoulders, and in the aftermath they stare at each other with wide eyes and heaving lungs.
âBdubs,â Scar manages, strangled and high-pitched, and then he rapidly clears his throat, pasting on a smile. âYouâ I didnât see you there! Not thatââ
âIf youâre going to make a short joke I will stab you on the spot,â Bdubs grumbles, and he tears the axe out of Scarâs slack hands, throwing it to the ground a few feet away. âIâve been out all night looking for you, I hope you appreciate the lack of sleep Iâve had to endure.â
Scar stares, awkward smile slipping a little as his mind sluggishly attempts to comprehend the conversation.Â
âWhy?â Scar asks eventually, interrupting the otherâs unintelligible grumbling as he smooths his clothes. âDid I forget something? Orâ I didnât take something of yours by accident, did I?â
Bdubs goes still and looks up, brow furrowed slightly and eyes unreadable. âDid youâ You forgot to say goodbye, for one thing!â Bdubs crosses his arms and glares at him. âAnd didnât tell us where you were going! And didnât answer our messages! Youâ You disappeared!â
He seems angry, or at least frustrated, and Scarâs heart beats a little faster. He doesnâtâ Heâs confused, is all. Heâs not sure what this is about.
âOh! Well, I thoughtâ I thought it would just be easier, you know?â Scar says, and shrugs like it's no big deal, like his chest isnât constricting. âSo you didnât have to say it.â
âOh what are you blabbering about?â Bdubs scowls, but canât quite hide his confusion. âSo we didnât have to say what?â
âJustâ You know.â Scar looks away in defeat, because now Bdubs is gonna make him say it. âSo you didnât have to ask me to leave.â
â...What?â
Bdubs says it like he has no idea what Scar is talking about, like heâs talking nonsense, and something desperate wells up in his stomach and crawls into his throat. He has to make him understand.
âLook, Iâmâ I may be clueless, but I can still read a room,â Scar says, quick and shaky and filled with false bravado. He tries for a smile, and it sits on his face like a wound would. âTrust me, I know when people have had enough. Justâ Let me leave with my dignity this time?â Scar chuckles, like itâs a joke, but itâs a sad little sound, and he canât look Bdubs in the eyes. âYou donât have to⊠ask. Itâs fine, really. Itâs better for everyone like this.â
Thereâs a long moment of silence, and Scar almost thinks Bdubs already left. Butâ
âYouâre right,â Bdubs says, and something about his voice is strange. Strained and soft. The words land like a blow, but Bdubs isnât finished. He comes up next to him and touches his arm. Scar closes his eyes.Â
âYou are clueless,â Bdubs says, still in that gentle, choked tone, and Scar gasps as heâs pulled into a hug.
His hands hover aimlessly over Bdubsâ back for a few long seconds, tears stinging at the back of his wide eyes. His heart is beating fast, and his chest aches, and for some reason, Bdubs is hugging him. Tightly, like heâs not planning on letting go. Like itâs not a goodbye.Â
âI killed Cleo,â Scar chokes out, because his throat hurts and he doesnât really want to say it, but he has to make sure Bdubs knows, even though thereâs no way he doesnât.Â
âYeah, you did,â Bdubs replies easily, and squeezes Scarâs middle pointedly. âShe thought it was funny. Sheâs not mad.â He pauses, and continues a little softer. âWe didnât want you to leave. We donât.â
Scar lets his hands rest carefully against the otherâs back, like heâs not sure heâs allowed. âPlease donât be lying,â he says.
âYou called me out for being the Boogey, Scar,â Bdubs says, a bit of amusement returning to his voice. âYou know what I sound like when Iâm lying.â
âYouâre bad at it,â Scar says weakly.
âExactly. So are you.â
âWe make a good team?â
âWe do,â Bdubs says, and finally pulls away. His eyes are a little puffy, and Scar blinks in shock. Bdubs grins. âCome on. Letâs go home.â
Their clock tower raises high in the distance, and as they approach, Scar spots Cleo standing outside of it, tapping their foot and checking her communicator. He doesnât realize heâs stopped walking until Bdubs calls his name in question.Â
âSheâs really not mad,â Bdubs insists, tugging at his wrist lightly. âWell, maybe that you left, but not about the killing thing.â
âI donât know, Bdubs,â Scar says, nerves making his voice waver.Â
âThatâs because Iâm in charge of knowing right now,â Bdubs scolds, and Scar finally relents and starts walking again. âJust donât run away again.â
About halfway up the mountain, Cleo spots them, and her shoulders sag. In relief?Â
âItâs past your curfew!â Cleo calls out, and has their hands on their hips when they finally make it to whereâs sheâs standing. She raises an eyebrow at Scar, who shrinks a little beneath their gaze. âWhere have you been?â
Itâs like theyâre upset that he left, that he wasnât there, that he was gone, and Scarâ Doesnât know how to deal with that. It is so far outside the realm of his recent experiences that heâs struck speechless, for a moment. Bdubs seems to take pity on him.Â
âHe thought you were mad,â Bdubs says, nudging Scar forwards a little.Â
âSo you left?â Cleo asks, as if thatâs not the rational conclusion that Scar thinks it is, and he swallows hard, avoiding their eyes.Â
âWell, I thoughtââ He wrings his hands into his shirt, heart pounding. âI thought you⊠wanted me to leave?â
Cleoâs face falls, almost imperceptibly, and Scar winces.Â
âWhy would I want that, Scar?â
His mouth is dry, and right now he really does feel like a little kid in trouble with his parents.Â
âI killed you,â Scar says, quiet and ashamed. Heâs studying the ground beneath his feet with rapt attention. There is dog fur stuck in the cracks.Â
âYeah.â Cleo shrugs, and Scar glances up in bewilderment. âAnd Grian, and Jimmy. It was amazing, actually.â
Scar stares, and something in his face must give him away, because Cleoâs softens.Â
âI told you I was proud,â Cleo says. âI did mean it, you know.â
âButââ
âWhy is it so hard to believe?â Cleo interrupts, voice suddenly commanding, and yet still gentle. Itâs something only she can pull off. âWhy isâ Your first thought is that we want you gone. Why?â
âBecause no one wants me around,â Scar snaps, finally fed up, some overwhelming and burning emotion building in his chest as his voice raises. âYou know Iâ All I ever try to do is make allies, but no one everâ Only one person has ever stuck by me, but it was never because he wanted to. He had to.â Scar makes a grand sweeping gesture, manic smile breaking under his trailing tears. He lets out a shaky laugh thatâs more of a sob, and he lets his hands fall back to his sides.Â
âEveryone leaves,â Scar says eventually, after a few seconds of oppressive silence. âAnd maybe itâsâ maybe Iâm made for it, but I donâtââ His voice breaks, and he closes his eyes. âI donât want to be alone.â
Itâs not something heâs ever admitted out loud. Itâs not something he ever really felt like he deserved to feel.Â
âThen stay,â Cleo says, and her hand appears on his wrist, cold and careful. âWe have a choice, and we want you here.â
âWhatâs a little death between family, anyway?â Bdubs pipes up, and takes Scarâs other hand. âJust brings us closer.â
Scar doesnât realize heâs crying again until Cleo lets out a soft sound.Â
âOh, ScarâŠâ
Scar lets out a watery laugh, wiping fruitlessly at his eyes. âI donât want to leave,â he says, small and tired. âI want to stay.â
Cleo pulls him against their chest, and he buries his face in their shoulder and his hands into their clothes, and his shoulders shake.Â
âGood,â Cleo says, sounding a little shaky herself, as Bdubs tucks up against his side and sighs a little in relief. âSo do I.â
The sun has long since set, and Scar can feel his eyelids drooping as his emotions finally catch up with him. He feels hollow, but in a good way. Like thereâs finally room for something better to take its place.Â
Theyâre still hugging, still standing in the dark in front of their cobbled-together clock tower, and somehow, Bdbubs starts snoring. Heâs fallen asleep, leaning against Scarâs side, still standing up.Â
âI think itâs time for bed,â Cleo says, laughing quietly, and Scar cracks a genuine smile for the first time in a while. He carefully feta goes himself from Cleo and scoops Bdubs up in one smooth motion, heading for the door. Itâs missing something; maybe a doormat.Â
When he turns to check on Cleo, sheâs still standing where he left them, but sheâs staring at the Bad Boys mansion with a stony face and clenched fists. Itâs almost like sheâs angry at one of them, for something. Scar can't think of anything recent that wouldâve justified her anger now.Â
âCleo?â Scar calls, uncertain, and they jolt a bit, turning to look at him. âAre you coming?â
With one last glance at the mansion, she sighs and follows him inside, ruffling his hair on her way by.
âWelcome home,â she says, and Scar feels something in his chest piece back together.Â
And, well. That would be a pretty good thing to put on a doormat.
