My observation of Mario games has led me to believe that Luigi is a sleepyhead
Oh. So he's like me! 😴🤭 (Truly I didn't give myself the title 'One Sleepy Gal' for nothing. It has become quite the running gag with my folks at home that whenever we sit down to watch a movie, I never see the end of it because I always nod off and fall asleep somewhere in the middle! x3)
I can totally see that for him, and I really like the headcanon for how amusing and relatable it is.^^ While I imagine both bros as being the type to become drowsy and drift off pretty easily when staying still for just a minute (something that is canonically highlighted in many instances too), I like to think that Luigi is a much heavier sleeper than Mario and will usually be out like a light whenever he finds a comfortable spot. Some things will wake him up instantly, of course (a suspicious creaking sound, a distant slamming door or anything uttered by Mario that may resemble distress 🥺), but would otherwise be comically unresponsive to chatter and light prodding. Mario would be naturally more vigilant as his mind would always be on high alert, keeping him on guard even through slumber, but their friends would soon come to find that both brothers often take naps when alone and basically rest as often as they can. 😌
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Prey of the Hunt- Chapter 1
A/N: A new piece for all you Eskel lovers! Featuring all of our favorite wolves, This story follows canon game lore and i am VERY excited to share this with you
Pairing: Eskel x Reader
Warnings: reader with (temporary) amnesia, Non-verbal reader (also temporary), Blood, Injury, Traumatized reader, Game canon characters/lore.
Word count: 1.1k
Summary: You woke up in the woods, having no memory other than a direction and your name to guide you as you run desperately from the predator that pursues you... The Wild Hunt. Despite being saved by a group of Witchers your trauma has left you non-verbal and scared. With all the comfort and love of a kindhearted Witcher will you be able to remember who you are? Will you ever know why the Wild Hunt is after you? And will you figure out why this white-haired witcher seems so familiar to you...?
Ch 2
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The autumn woods were quiet. Nothing but the sounds of delicate flapping wings and the gentle rustling of leaves above you. That and the sound of your tiny crackling fire, the remnants of what you managed to pull together the night before.
You looked to your side and only saw a small pile of twigs left to burn. Each would only burn for a minute or two at best, so it was probably time to move on.
You sighed and looked out into the trees before you. ‘Just a little further,’ you thought, ‘a little further and you’ll be safe.’
Truth be told, you had no idea where you were going- you couldn’t remember anything past last night when you found yourself stumbling about the dark woods. But some part of you, latent and buried deep down, knew that you’d be safe in this direction.
The growl of your stomach broke the silence around you as you watched the dwindling fire lick its flame at the fresh twigs you put on. And that's when you paused.
‘Where did the birds go?’
‘Why did the leaves go quiet?’
Just as the adrenaline and fear started racing through your body frost bit at your skin and covered the ground around you, instantly putting out your fire.
‘He’s here….’
Your chest was already beginning to tighten and your breath felt like work. Your legs kicked into gear and threw you in the direction of your supposed haven just as a bright swirling vortex opened up behind you. The pale blue light cast shadows before you that jumped and danced in your path.
The blast of cold bitter wind that came from the portal pushed you to the ground, causing you to curse internally as the skin of your knees scraped away. You threw a glance backward as your feet scrambled to get beneath you.
Snarls came first as ice-covered hounds leaped forth from the portal and looked around for their target as the sounds of heavy clattering armor followed. They were tall like yourself, but from your spot on the ground, these monsters seemed bigger than life. The tallest one- in the center of them all, wore a helmet that resembled a skull, crowned with tall spikes of iron, and a metal rib cage over his chest.
‘Eredin….’
The empty sockets of his helmet locked eyes with you and turned your empty stomach into knots. “Get them.” He said in a low voice that resounded against the surrounding trees.
Instantly you were back on your feet and sprinting through the woods, feeling the Hounds close in behind you as they obediently chased their prey.
Your body was on fire as anxiety hummed like crackling electricity beneath your skin, making everything muscle feel hot, sharp, and tight.
Jagged claws caught your back as you made a sharp turn, throwing the hounds off as they skidded to slow down. The tightness of your chest loosened a touch as your lead on the hounds widened, but you weren’t out of the woods yet.
Looking ahead of you, you saw there was no place left to run. A 20-foot cliff lies in your path; there was no time to get around it and no place to jump to. You skidded to a halt and glanced over the edge, trying to rationalize a way down, but this was life or death.
Howls encroached closer and closer and you knew you had no choice and no time left to lose. You scrambled to get on your knees and begin your way down, hands and feet barely clinging to the shallow crevices in the rock.
Your nails scraped and clawed desperately against it, chipping and quickly growing bloody as you tried and failed to slow your descent. Your arms and legs scraped themselves open until you finally landed with an unceremonious thud and a pained grunt.
From atop the cliff, you saw the King of the Wild Hunt round his forces back through another portal to make their way down to you once more.
Your legs were so tired, your fingers were bloodied beyond recognition, you could feel the pain and the weariness deep in your bones, but you had to keep going. You couldn’t let him catch you again.
‘Again?’ you questioned, catching just a hint of a memory before your mind became overridden by survival instincts once again, and you continued running.
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“Faster feet, Geralt. Lambert’s smaller than you, you need to move faster to match him or find a way to knock off his rhythm” Vesemir instructed, Watching the two boys go against each other. Vesemir had all the wolves out in the courtyard for training early that morning, working on their steps, timing, everything. Eskel sat and sharpened his sword in preparation for his turn coming up, thankful he wasn’t currently under the scrutiny of the older Witcher.
Lambert laughed and hopped around Geralt tauntingly, he wasn't too much faster- but it was just enough not to get his ass kicked. “Yeah Geralt, Faster!” He called in a mocking voice, taking every opportunity to make fun of his older brother. “ Come on white wolf. Mo-- whoa, whoa, wait. What is tha- OOF” Lambert had stopped suddenly in his tracks, looking out into the distant woods before Geralt rammed into him.
“Lambert, you need to focus…” Vesemir wearily sighed.
“Fuck….” Lambert grumbled as he got up. “No, I'm serious. Something is going on out there” He pointed out to a large spot in the woods where the trees were now covered with an unseasonable frost. Pale blue light disappeared from beneath the leaves as everyone watched, silent and solemn.
Geralt looked to Vesemir for recognition, and the old man only nodded.
“The Wild Hunt is back….” Vesemir mumbled, somewhere between awe and confusion, but he quickly snapped out of it. “Eskel get the horses out. Lambert, Gather some dancing stars.”
“YES,” The young witcher interrupted and immediately ran off.
“-Geralt, you get anything else that you think can help us.” The older Witcher finished, looking down at the White Wolf. Though Vesemir and the other wolves had driven off the Wild Hunt before, Geralt was the only one with inside knowledge. Even if he was still working on remembering everything from his time as a rider, it was valuable information nonetheless.
With their orders, Eskel and Geralt now ran off to prepare and Vesemir looked out again. The frost was spreading closer and closer and he knew they must've been in pursuit of something.
“Let’s just hope whoever it is lasts long enough for us to get there….”
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Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight
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The constant rolling disaster that is Overwatch's game development aside, what really perplexes me about how Blizzard is handling the broader franchise is their continual insistence that a canon narrative exists in spite of their equally continual refusal to tell anyone what it is.
Like, okay, the events of the games aren't canon. Fair enough: the games are multiplayer-only, and you can't account for player actions.
Oh, and the animated short films aren't canon either – they're properly understood as in-universe propaganda, not depictions of actual events. That's a little high concept for you guys, but fine.
But surely the comics are canon, right? Well, no; some of the comics (we're not telling you which ones) were canon at one point, but the writing team has decided to go in a different direction.
My dudes, what is left? The weird Source Filmmaker porn? Is that canon? Well, apparently it's at least as canon as anything else!
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