#*felt unbearable

[shisasan]

March 16, 1927 Journals of Anais Nin 1923-1927 [volume 3]

[b-blushes]

please sorry please (things I was thinking about when it felt like there was only awful in me)

[tobiasrieper]

Bramble: The Mountain King (2023) | Dimfrost Studio

[zhi-liet]

how do people envision a future? im doing the things im supposed to do. im in college, i get good grades, i pretend to get along with people and act excited to have friends and do things. but nothing feels like anything. it's still empty. i still feel no fulfilment. how am I supposed to do this for the rest of my life? i don't feel connected to anyone, i no longer owe anything to anyone so what am i living for?

[rockafstw]

Sometimes I remember Prost has said Senna told him things that he promised to never repeat to anyone and I go “Hm.”

[mosstrades]

Just. Thinking about that bit in season one where Ms. Casey looks straight at Mark S. and says "I forgive you". Just. Just thinking about it. and neither of them recognize each other. and. just. just. can you imagine. can you imagine. how do you think that felt for mark? it's impossible that no part of him, that his hidden memory, that his body, would have no reaction to Ms. Casey's, Gemma's, voice. and to be told "i forgive you" by the voice of your dead loved one, after two years of abject mourning— and you don't remember it, you don't remember the guilt, you don't remember the pain, but you feel it every single day without knowing what it is, and then you hear that, and it just— just. thinking about it.

[pinkcreamypeach]

Valentine's Day 💌 💘 (Mareach)

God spent four hours writing this thinking, rewriting, adding way too much detail, then getting distracted by the idea of drawing. Honestly, I wanted to cram in a ton of characters, but that would've taken forever. I almost wrote a whole Luaisy section, added Toad, Yoshi, and so much more, but my motivation dipped hard. I even planned a full-on Bowser fight scene, but it ended up in the background instead. Next time, I’ll make it way better.

Anyway, cut down on the design details. (Might draw peach dress in the later maybe) Mareach is getting closer to happening, so... lol.

@keylovesstuff @bberetd @peaches2217 @cutejk123

@supergay-64 <-- Sorry if you didn't want to be tagged

@silenzahra <-- forgot to tag you lol.

The soft morning light trickled through the curtains, casting a warm golden hue across Mario and Luigi’s shared bedroom. Mario stirred, stretching his arms wide, his body naturally easing into the motions of someone well-used to a day full of jumping, running, and saving the world. His eyes slowly blinked open, a small, content grin forming on his face as he greeted the morning. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the fresh air, feeling that spark of energy that only the start of a new day could bring.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool wooden floor greeting his bare feet. A quick stretch, his joints popping, and Mario let out a pleased sigh. He wasn’t much for slow mornings, but there was something comforting about this routine. It always set him up for the day ahead, whatever challenges might come.

Glancing at the clock, he shuffled toward the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. “Huh, feelin’ good today,” he muttered to himself. He usually felt like a wreck after a long day of fighting monsters, jumping on Goombas, and dodging fireballs. But today? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was just the sunny weather. Maybe it was... Valentine's Day?

Standing in front of the mirror, Mario squinted at his reflection. In his red mushroom boxers, he scratched his stomach and patted his belly, noticing the familiar scars. Burn marks from his fiery encounters with Bowser, and deep claw marks that... well, he wasn’t sure where they came from. He’d been through so many scrapes, it all blurred together. But at least his signature mustache was still there. He took a whiff of his own breath. “Oof... Definitely need to brush my teeth,” he muttered, frowning.

Mario grabbed his toothbrush, eyes flicking to the empty space where Luigi’s toothbrush should’ve been. He blinked, brain a little slow to wake up. “Oh yeah… he’s off with his girlfriend…” Mario chuckled to himself. He still couldn’t get over the fact that Luigi had found someone. The shy guy who never quite left his comfort zone now had someone who brought him out of his shell. "I thought she’d be trouble," Mario mused with a grin. "But... I guess she’s good for him."

He sighed, thinking about Peach for a moment. Maybe today was the day... the day he’d finally confess his feelings. But... no. How would that even work? He groaned at himself. The last time he tried anything romantic, it ended with him chasing after Toadsworth in a panic. Peach was always sweet and forgiving, but Mario couldn’t help that nervous knot in his stomach. He’d baked her a special dessert for Valentine’s Day, all excited, but was it too cheesy? Probably, but he didn’t mind. He had to at least try.

He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the soap in his eyes until he was already screaming in pain and slipping in the tub. "Mamma mia!" His feet flew out from under him, and he crashed into the soapy water with a splat. His daydreams about Peach scattered like his balance.

Sitting up in the tub with a groan, Mario rubbed his eyes, wishing for a second he could just pull the curtains around him and disappear into his bed. The dramatic thoughts swirled, but before he could fall into them, he grabbed his toothbrush and tried to shake off the chaos.

Without looking, he grabbed the cream from the counter, squirted it onto the brush, and shoved it into his mouth. The moment he tasted it, his eyes went wide in horror. Wait, that's hair cream! He gagged, spitting it out in disgust.

"PERCHÉ QUESTO CONTINUA A SUCCEDERE!!?" Mario shouted in a dramatic mix of frustration and disbelief.

It wasn’t the start he had planned, but then again, when was it ever?

—----------------------

Princess Peach took a slow, deep breath as she admired her reflection in the mirror, a soft smile curling on her lips. With careful hands, she applied the finishing touch to her look. A heart-shaped accent with her lipstick. Her dress, chosen with care, was the epitome of grace and elegance, a pink Rococo-inspired gown that seemed almost too magnificent to wear.

As Peach twirled in front of the mirror, the soft rustling of her gown.She chuckled softly to herself. Perhaps my family would say this is a bit too extravagant, the most "girly" of all princesses but I wouldn't change a thing. Today is about love, after all. Her heart swelled with excitement as she glanced at the calendar. Yes, today is the day.

With a final glance at herself, she slid her long gloves on and gently gathered the ends of her gown before stepping out of her room. The grand halls of the Mushroom Castle were adorned with decorations in celebration of the day, festive ribbons in shades of pink and red, and cute bows everywhere. The castle’s guards had changed into their new uniforms, fitting the mood with their pastel hues. Each one bowed as she passed, their faces glowing with admiration for their princess, her beauty and grace leaving them in awe.

Toadsworth, ever the reliable elderly, was overseeing the preparations for the grand celebration in town. The festival was to honor love in all its forms, romantic, familial, and platonic. As always, the elder Toad was in his element, helping organize the festivities with great care. He adjusted his golden glasses, a thoughtful gift from the princess herself, and smiled. She had gifted him an exquisite eyeglass holder for Valentine’s Day, simple yet meaningful, and it had brought tears to his eyes.

"Ah, my favorite princess," he said with a warm smile, his voice full of admiration. "You look as beautiful as your mother, my dear."

Peach’s face lit up at the compliment. "Oh, grandpa, you spoil me with your words," she giggled. "But I do appreciate it, thank you."

The two walked side by side, moving toward the front balcony where the event preparations were taking place. As Peach looked out over the gardens, she couldn’t help but smile even wider. The lush, vibrant flowers were tended to with care, and the toads were already buzzing around, handing out early gifts to one another. It was an endearing sight, one that filled her heart with joy. Her people, so full of life and love, celebrating together in this beautiful moment it was all she could have hoped for.

She glanced over at Toadsworth, feeling a surge of gratitude for everything he did to make this day special. "It's truly wonderful to see how much love is in the air today, don’t you think?" she remarked.

Toadsworth smiled fondly at her. "Indeed, Princess. It’s a day for all to share in the joy of love and there’s no one more deserving of such celebration than you."

Peach smiled softly, her heart full of affection for her kingdom and those she held dear. As the festival preparations continued.

—----------------------

Mario stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his collar with the kind of determination usually reserved for stomping Goombas. He wanted to look good not that he had a fashion degree or anything. Luigi wasn’t around to be a backseat stylist, and honestly, the pea-sized Prince Parsley had his own business to attend to. Probably dating someone new. Not Mario’s problem.

He smoothed out his faded red button-up, pulled on his dark red jeans (fancy!), laced up his trusty brown boots, and because he was feeling classy doused his hair in way too much gel. The result? A slicked-back masterpiece that could probably deflect fireballs. He finished it off with an unreasonable amount of cologne. Was it necessary? No. Did he now smell like an entire department store fragrance aisle? Absolutely.

With a deep breath, he placed his iconic red cap atop his gel fortress, stepped outside, and took in the fresh air. The Mushroom Kingdom stretched before him, Peach’s castle standing pretty in the distance. The sun was shining, the clouds were smiling, and most importantly today wasn’t an “adventure” day. No kidnappings, no rogue Chain Chomps, no existential crises brought on by giant turtles. Just peace.

Then he turned around.

Bowser’s airship loomed overhead, casting a dramatic shadow across his front yard. Mario glanced at his watch. Really? Of course, Bowser had to crash that day. Holidays, birthdays, probably even Peach’s hypothetical baby shower if it was important, Bowser was showing up uninvited.With a resigned sigh, Mario popped back inside, grabbed a Cape Feather, and launched himself skyward. He had about five minutes to keep Bowser from ruining the party.

“Alright, Bowser,” he muttered, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s make this quick.”

—----------------------

4 hours later

Princess Peach stood in her royal dressing chambers within Peach’s Castle, preparing for her grand speech. The lavish room, bathed in soft shades of pink and gold, gleamed under the morning light streaming through tall windows adorned with flowing silk curtains. A polished vanity, scattered with delicate beauty essentials, sat against the wall, while a flurry of Toad attendants bustled around her, adjusting the final details of her dress and carefully positioning her crown.

Beyond the chamber doors, the castle courtyard buzzed with excitement. Hundreds of Toad citizens had gathered beneath the grand balcony, their tiny mushroom caps bouncing eagerly as they awaited their princess’s arrival. With a final deep breath, Peach straightened her gloves, offered a warm smile to her loyal attendants, and stepped gracefully onto the stage.

“Beloved citizens of the Mushroom Kingdom!” Peach’s voice rang out like a melody, carrying across the sea of joyful faces. “It is with great joy that I officially declare the beginning of our Grand Festival of Love! Today, we celebrate with laughter, music, and most importantly cake! (I personally made sure Toadsworth didn’t skimp on the extra frosting this time!)

“So, put on your finest festival attire, indulge in all the treats your heart desires, and let the celebrations begin! The Mushroom Kingdom’s Grand Festival of Love is officially underway!”

The kingdom erupted in cheers, a wave of excitement surging through the crowd. Peach watched with a delighted smile as her people spread out, filling the castle halls and the festival grounds beyond. The town square gleamed with festive decorations, games, and merriment, love filling the air in every laughter-filled moment.

As the day passed in a joyful blur, Peach found herself holding onto a special thought: her own Valentine’s gift. A gift for Mario.

Where was he? Was he off on another adventure with Luigi? She hadn’t seen him all day.

The sun dipped beneath the horizon, and soon, the final event of the night began the grand ballroom dance. The castle’s halls glittered with candlelight as the guests swayed to elegant music, glasses raised in celebration. Peach smiled at her people, twirling among them, but something in her heart pulled her away.

Excusing herself, she stepped outside, where the kingdom’s streets lay silent and empty under the moon’s glow. The celebration had drawn everyone inside, leaving the once-bustling town still and peaceful. Holding the ends of her dress, she slowly wandered through the quiet pathways, her thoughts drifting.

Where was he?

She had left her gift at home in the rush of the festival, but that didn’t matter. All she wanted was to see him..

Then the hurried footsteps caught her attention first. She turned, her breath hitching slightly when she saw Mario standing before her, a slightly crushed Valentine’s box clutched in his hands. His red shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his pants bore a few small rips, and faint scorch marks streaked his boots. His hair was a complete mess, bouncing slightly as he tried—unsuccessfully—to smooth it down with one hand. He looked like he’d just run through absolute chaos.

And yet, to her, he was still Mario.

As soon as their eyes met, he stiffened, hands trembling slightly as he swallowed hard. A nervous, lopsided smile tugged at his lips, an attempt at his usual confidence, but it wavered under her gaze.

“Pri— *ahem* Principessa… ciao, Principessa Peach…” He gave a quick, stiff bow, but as he glanced down at the ruined box in his hands, he let out a quiet, sheepish chuckle.

“I, uh… you… you look… wow.” The words tumbled out awkwardly, tripping over themselves as his face turned an adorable shade of red. “I mean… beautiful—no, gorgeous, like… *La donna più popolare di sempre.*”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should probably stop talking now…”

Peach giggled, warmth flickering in her eyes as she took him in. The slight blush his words had drawn from her softened into something more affectionate as she stepped closer, tilting her head.

“Thank you, chéri,” she murmured, her voice teasing but gentle. Then, with a playful glint, she reached up, her fingers threading lightly through his unruly hair. “I have to say… I quite like the rugged look.” She paused, scrunching her nose slightly. “Though, you do smell a little… smoky.”

Mario exhaled a dramatic sigh, finally putting two and two together.

“Bowser?” she asked, her tone knowing.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, shaking his head. “But don’t worry! I took care of that *bastardo* and his goons.”

Before she could reply, he glanced at the misshapen Valentine’s box in his hands and sighed again. Without a second thought, he tossed it into a nearby trash bin, his expression falling. It wasn’t good enough. Peach deserved something perfect.

She caught on immediately.

“…Wait.” Her eyes twinkled as she glanced at the box. “That was a cake?”

Mario blinked. “How’d you—”

She giggled and tapped his nose with her finger, smiling sweetly.

“Oh, Mario, I have a good sense of smell.” She hummed softly, lacing her hands behind her back. “Even if it was burnt, I would’ve eaten it anyway. Your desserts always make my day better.”

His heart stumbled over itself at that. She always had this way of making him feel like he was enough.

Wordlessly, she took his hand, her fingers slipping effortlessly between his, and led him beyond the castle gates. The soft glow of the festival faded behind them as they wandered into a field of Fire Flowers. Their petals shimmered under the moonlight, casting a warm golden glow across the landscape. At the heart of the field stood a grand tree, its branches stretching toward the stars. Peach stopped beneath it, turning to him with a knowing smile.

“…Remember this place?” she asked softly.

Mario blinked, then his eyes widened as memory washed over him.

“O-oh! Sì!” His face lit up, his voice quieter now, touched by nostalgia. “I remember… the stars, the flowers… and you.”

His voice dropped even softer.

“You made me feel better when Luigi was missing. You always make everything better, Principessa..”

Peach’s smile turned tender as she stepped closer.

The fireflowers bathed the field in a soft, golden glow, their petals flickering like tiny lanterns against the darkened landscape. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, jeweled with stars, casting a dreamy silver light over the scene. A gentle wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of flowers and the distant hum of the festival still lingering in the kingdom.

In the middle of it all, Princess Peach and Mario stood beneath a towering tree, its branches stretching toward the heavens. The moment felt like a fairytale, something out of a dream, yet entirely real.

Mario, ever the gentleman despite his usual clumsiness, bowed slightly, extending his hand toward her. “May I have this dance, Principessa?”

Peach, smiling with a playful twinkle in her eyes, placed her gloved hand in his. “I’d be delighted, mon chéri.”

And with that, he swept her into an elegant, old-fashioned waltz, their feet gliding over the grass as if they were dancing atop the stars themselves.Mario held her securely, his grip firm yet gentle, guiding her across the glowing field. His usual roughness was softened, his movements careful but still undeniably him a little hesitant, a little bashful, but full of warmth. Peach followed his lead with practiced grace, letting herself be twirled effortlessly before returning to the safety of his arms.

The moment quickly turned playful. Peach giggled as Mario spun her again, this time pulling her in close, their chests nearly touching. “Getting bold, aren’t we?” she teased.

Mario smirked. “Just tryin’ to keep up with you, *bella.*”

She hummed, arching a brow. “Oh? Then keep up with this.”

With surprising agility, she took the lead for a moment, twirling him instead. Mario stumbled slightly but recovered quickly, his laughter echoing into the night.

“Oh, you’re real cheeky tonight,” he said, grinning.

She giggled and playfully nudged his nose with hers. “I think you like it.”

Before he could respond, she suddenly let go, stepping backward as if to challenge him. Mario blinked, then smirked, accepting the silent invitation. With a dramatic sweep of his arm, he lunged forward, grabbing her waist and spinning her back into his hold, earning a delighted squeal from the princess.

“Still gotcha,” he murmured.

Her breath hitched slightly as she gazed up at him, her hands resting against his chest. The fireflowers flickered around them, their glow reflecting in his eyes. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the dance had become more than just a playful movement.

“…You really are something else, Mario,” Peach finally whispered, her voice softer now, her fingers tracing the edge of his collar.

Mario swallowed, his usual bravado melting just a little. “Yeah? Well… you make it real easy to wanna hold onto somethin’ this good.”

Her cheeks warmed as she tilted her head. “Then don’t let go.”

His hands tightened ever so slightly at her waist, a silent promise as the dance continued slower, gentler, wrapped in moonlight, fireflowers, and the quiet understanding that, in that moment, nothing else mattered.

As Mario dipped Peach for the final flourish of their dance, the momentum carried them both down onto the soft grass. A breathless laugh escaped Peach’s lips as she landed beneath him, her golden hair fanning out around her like a halo. The glow of the fire flowers surrounded them, casting a warm, flickering light over their faces.

Mario hovered above her, his hands still securely wrapped around her waist, his breath slightly unsteady. The playful laughter between them softened into something quieter, something deeper. Peach gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes, her cheeks dusted pink, her smile warm and inviting.

She lifted a delicate hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face before leaning in, pressing the gentlest kiss against his cheek. The warmth of her lips lingered against his skin, and Mario’s face turned an unmistakable shade of red. He barely had time to react before she rested her forehead against his, her breath mingling with his in the cool night air.

“…Happy Valentine’s Day, Mario,” she whispered, her voice as soft as the petals around them.

Mario swallowed thickly, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared into her eyes. She looked so radiant, so effortlessly beautiful, bathed in golden firelight and starlit silver. He couldn’t help but lean in closer, his grip on her waist tightening just slightly as if grounding himself in the moment.

“…Happy Valentine’s Day, too, mi Amore” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

They stayed like that, lost in each other, the world melting away as the fire flowers swayed gently around them two hearts intertwined beneath the endless starry sky.

[jenanigans1207]

All I’m saying is that in the supernatural universe, I firmly believe that the most popular destiel fics are written and posted by one Sam Winchester under a pen name. And he doesn’t even come up with elaborate plots. He just dictates, almost verbatim, interactions he witnesses Cas and Dean having and then just tacks a kiss or a love confession on the end.

And everyone comments about how he just gets their characters, how he builds such convincing sexual and romantic tension, how the characters feel like real people instead of words on a page. Sam is the most popular destiel ao3 author, his fics on every single rec list, and it’s simply because he got tired of watching Dean and Cas pine uselessly for each other so he decided to make it everyone’s problem.

[a-whiff-of-a-dream]

alright this has been sitting in my mind ever since i first heard it a few days ago, but what Emmrich says about his fear of death in his first scene? It hit differently. Im gonna elaborate underneath the cut.

(also this might be too much personal info for some, but anyways)

'Thats when I discovered I possess a great terror of dying' is putting something I have felt for close to 3 years now so... precisely into words.

I have spend so much trying to find words for this feeling, for this fear, and have not yet managed to communicate it with anyone really so far, because the words have just... not been there.

'It goes beyond dread. It cant be reasoned with or soothed over. It comes without warning, in the dead of night, in sunlit streets. A raw, strangling fear, struck somewhere deep past the heart.'

It hides behind every corner of your life. You can go on with your day like any other person, you can be alone at home or out with friends, seeing the world, and suddenly youre hit with this 'someday it wont matter anymore and you wont feel this feeling and never smell the air again' and you cant outrun it.

Its something you cant change, something maybe not even worth mentioning because there is no way out anyways, so why bother and try to find a reason within it, when there is non to begin with?

'Oddly, I discovered I wasnt alone. I debated this fear with friends, I argued with teachers... Yet... It lingered.'

Others might feel the same, and yes its comforting to a degree, but still it wont make it go away. It wont make it better or unbearable somehow. Because its unreasonable. You know it is. Thats why Ive burried it so deep within me and try not to spiral into despair when these thoughts occure.

I am not really sure where I am heading with this but I guess I needed to get these thoughts out into the world somehow. Because hearing this, having it put into words so nicely? It helped. It made me shiver and it has lingered in my head for a while now, but it also gave me words for something I have not yet come around wording myself.

[cyberoticism]

honestly i think my only beef w mouthwashing and why it didnt hit for me is i was bored by the fixation on jimmy and curly. its a game abt anyas assault but shes barely in the game at all. her trauma is a prop to explore these male chracters complex relationship which i get yes is to illustrate how people enable harm doers and abusers but like. i dont rlly care that curly enabled jimmy bc he liked him and they were BFFsFL u kno like. their story was boring. anya didnt feel like a person and ahe didnt feel nearly as fleshed out as the others. i kept forgetting her name and calling her shelly duvall but a lot of her story happens off screen. which isnt to say i wanted her assault on screen its more to say why isnt she anything outside of her trauma? shes not nearly as humanized or fleshed out as the others and we r fixated on the abuser and whats going thru his mind and how the other men enabled him to go as far as he did. i think that we couldve even had a meaningful narrative about that while still treating anya like a human and still letting her be more of a character and less of a prop to talk abt sexual assault. am i making sense???

[sinnaminie]

Happy last day of 2023!

For my final plushie photo of this year, I’ve assembled all the Pedro Pascal plushies I could find for a family photo.

Thank you all for the love and support over the past 12 months. Hope we all have a wonderful 2014 😘

[maryse127]

New version of Don't Worry made me put on old version of Don't Worry and now I am once again vibing to this amazing ost my beloved and also suffering because it isn't March 20th yet

[thevoiceoflove1993]

basically life always goes on even if you think it won't. no matter how old you are. you don't have to be young to experience something life-changing. we're learning and growing all our lives, it isn't important how old we are. as long as we're alive,...we are alive.

[divineprank]

" Is that blood? "

The cold desert night is unnaturally silent. The sharp, howling winds that once cut through the dunes has seemed to vanish without a trace—as if nature itself has fled from the carnage from earlier. Tattered red Gerudo fortress banners hang like flayed skin from splintering wooden poles, their only signs of life picking up within the occasional whisper of shifting sand.

Ganondorf can still hear the phantom chorus of the battle. War cries, steel clashing, the hollow whistle of shooting arrows tearing through the air, his sisters' screaming and the frantic baying of horses—all of it undercut by the booming of the Gerudo King's thundering commands. The memory still echoes so clearly behind his eyes even though the night has once again fallen quiet underneath the cold gaze of the moon.

But silence has never meant peace.

Not in the desert.

And not in him.

Deep inside the Gerudo King, his rage turns over like a crashing wave in a sea storm, all of his anger slamming against the stillness, refusing to settle. His left shoulder has caught by a stray arrow, the wound burning beneath his ruined cloak. The horses, still spooked, jerk against their reins and harnesses, wildly rolling their heads and bucking against their restraints as they remain tied down and attached to the supply wagon. Their fear only fueling Ganondorf's own fire as he removes the arrow from his flesh with a yell ripping from him; the sharp sound crackling like lightning, disturbing the otherwise still night. A warm stream of blood stains his cloak and instead he directs his attention to the nervous horses, who buck and fight against the King of Thieves, rearing up, kicking their front legs as they struggle within their restraints within the wagon.

"Still!" He barks, his deep voice meeting their ears like a heavy drum. The skin on his hands suffer an unforgiving burn as he fights against the leather straps in his grip, his sad attempt to force obedience and demand control where he has none has begun to prove itself a futile effort. Both horses thrash, hooves kicking up sand, causing Ganondorf's grip to tighten, tangling his fists around each strap until the veins in his hands bulge. He won't stop. Not until the horses are freed. He must do something to spend the fury from this loss that threatens to consume him. With his hands pleading for mercy, his gaze flicks to the wagon, to Shanri's lifeless form wrapped tightly and carefully in one of the blankets from the wagon, as though that can truly save anything of what him and his party had lost tonight. The guilt claws into Ganondorf deeply.

He failed her, he failed his sister.

He failed all of his sisters.

Footsteps approach, softly against the sand. He knows it couldn't be the priestesses he sent for, they wouldn't be this fast. He knows it can only be one other.

Then, a voice. It's her.

Nabooru. He does not pause, he does not hide the wound he'd created when he freed the arrow from his flesh, nor does he try to cover up the blood staining his cloak. He keeps working, forcing himself into the motion of it, clinging to this one remaining scrap of control he has over a situation that has fallen apart in his hands completely.

Her question earns a sharp yank—one of the horses' harnesses finally snaps loose. The beast stumbles back in surprise, freed, but still restless and shaken.

"Some of it is mine," he says, his voice low and weary. "Some of it is not."

He finally turns to her, his expression unreadable. But the fire in his eyes betrays him. Shadows flicker across his face, cast by the distant torchlight that struggles against the vast darkness of the desert. His jaw is tight, and his breathing is measured, as though each word he speaks must be forced past the very weight of his failure. "Shanri is dead."

The three words feel so foreign on his tongue, distant and cold, but their weight still crushing all the same. His gaze flickers to the wagon once again—to the still form wrapped in thick fabric and he exhales sharply through his nose, tightening his grip on the remaining leather strap in his hands. Defeat has never been something Ganondorf has dealt with well, especially when his failures reflect upon those he has been charged with protecting. "I sent the remainder of my party to seek out the priestesses," he continues, "they will prepare her."

The wind shifts and the scent of blood—his, theirs—clings to the heavy night air. His pulse slams heavily in his wounded shoulder, the gash searing hot as streaks of red continue to leak out, but Ganondorf refuses to notice. He must keep moving, he must keep his hands busy.

"At first light, I will take her to the Colossus myself." His gaze finally finds Nabooru again, their electric color sharp unwavering, practically daring her to challenge him on this. "Her soul will not suffer an aimless existence because her king was too slow to protect her from a group of worthless desert bandits." His grip tightens on the harness of the remaining horse, and with a sharp yank, the final strap comes free. The animal jerks its head but does not bolt away, its sides heaving from exhaustion. The wagon stands alone now. Motionless. Silent. Totally lifeless. This is when Ganondorf finally allows himself to notice it: the red hot fire in his bloody shoulder; the ache in his fists from the incredible force he used to end the bandits' lives—especially the one that stole Shanri's. There is nothing left of that man but pure ruin; the Gerudo King having continued to rip him apart with his bare hands well after the man took his last breath. He made certain that even the scavengers—the vultures, the coyotes—such creatures looking for scraps will turn up their noses at the unrecognizable carcass-turned-waste.

It was the only thing Ganondorf could do.

He can feel the warmth of his blood as it travels along his skin, a welcome distraction. It is not the sting of the arrow wound that threatens to unmake the Gerudo King, but rather, it is the knowledge that it happened at all. That he, the sacred male child—only one every generation—was brought low by a petty, miserable group of raiders who should not have posed such a threat to Ganondorf and his party at all, they should not have caught him off-guard. A king, forged by the hot sun, master of blade and beast, reduced to bleeding in the sand while one of his own fell.

It's not just a failure, it's a betrayal. A betrayal of his purpose, his people, of the very privilege etched into his bones, flowing within his blood. The desert's gods saw themselves fit to mark this one with blood of Gerudo nobility and Ganondorf feels he is squandering it. Throwing away his very limited time in this world by making up for the stupid mistakes that should never have been made in the first place. It makes him sick. He sees no progress, no growth, no change being made during his reign so far as king.

His stomach churns, deep and twisting. It's as if his own soul wants to crawl out of him and disappear into the dunes.

She trusted him. They all trusted him to be their shield, their sword; his birthright is not to sit uselessly on a throne and revel in ceremony like the overfed, oversexed, ornamental lumps Hyrule excuses for kings. But he is meant to stand as their mountain: unyielding and unshakable. A force so formidable that no harm could ever dare descend upon the Gerudo. Yet now, one of his own lies still. Wrapped in cloth.

Cold.

[villa-kulla]

2024 in review:

January: Strong start, fun at work, creative plans, many outings with new people, successful birthday cocktail bash thrown, plans to keep the momentum going -

January 23rd: cat dies

February: depression/crippling loneliness

March: depression/crippling loneliness

April: depression/crippling loneliness

May: depression/crippling loneliness

June: depression/crippling loneliness

July: depression/crippling loneliness/therapy

August: start dating this guy with whom i have a history because that's just what people do isn't it? he loves me and is ready to settle down, so maybe this is it, maybe i should just settle and join this club of monogamy and kids that i've watched every single one of my close friends join over the past 3 years, leaving my the 7th wheel at every single social function because it's ridiculous that I'm in my early 30s and my most significant relationship was with a cat, maybe it's time to finally grow up and settle for someone, you had a very slutty bisexual 20s back when it was cute, but as long as you're still somewhat attracted to guys, might as well let the pendulum settle that way because it'll be societally easier for you in the long run, and all the while you can ignore the voice in the back of your head that this is wrongwrongwrong and you don't want this, also it's too embarrassing to have a sexuality crisis in your 30s when you've been out since your teens but whatever, and you should settle down anyways because maybe it'll give your life purpose i mean look at your past year, maybe you wouldn't have taken the death of your cat so hard, at least you'd have a built-in social circle, and everyone does say that they never felt truly alive until they have kids/partner, and while your parents never pressure you they've certainly hinted that it's weird you haven't settled down yet and you'd be happier with a family of your own, therefore obviously my life must have no other value, maybe they're right, so let's settle down with a guy whom i quite honestly find irritating now and who doesn't spark joy but it's been hard to tell because everything is irritating to me lately and nothing sparks joy, and i try so hard and stay reasonably social and have hobbies that get me out of the house and am financially stable with a challenging full-time job that's sometimes rewarding and eat well and exercise a lot and these are all Healthy™ things to do so why do i feel like dying every time i wake up and have to face getting through the day, and isn't it pitiful that the one who was always Little Miss Talented and Smart and Pretty growing up has amounted to a sad, lonely, unfulfilled girl who hasn't lived up to any of her creative potential, and people will always see her as a cat lady except even more pathetic because her cat is dead, and maybe my best years are really behind me, and i'll just be stuck forever tagging along after friends who've moved on with their lives, so better commit to this guy you find tiresome right because husband + kids = happiness, maybe those nuclear family people are onto something, maybe husbands and kids are for when the rest of your friends get husbands and kids and you start to lose them because the friendship is different no matter what anyone says, and you've always been good at forcing yourself to do what's good for you, and deep down you know this is nonsense and won't solve anything, but it can't possibly make things worse than you've felt all year, and also this Guy feels like his life is starting over with you, but you feel like your life is ending with him, and the only reason you'd stay with him is so people don't pity you, and more than anything you can't bear for people to pity you and you suspect they all secretly are pitying you simply because you're single and there must therefore be something fundamentally wrong with you, and you used to be able to dismiss thoughts like that as stupid, but then again you used to be a lot more happy, and it gets harder and harder to ignore the thought that something is wrong with you, and the only thing worse than other people's pity is self-pity and every time you stop and think about your unhappiness you cry because you don't see how you'll ever feel happy again and you know you don't deserve to feel this way, but you can't actually remember the last time you were happy, it was certainly before your cat died, and I miss him so much and could this guy just stop fucking texting me for one second, oh god it's me, hi, i'm the problem it's me -

September: depression (but busy!)

October: Meds! / break up with guy + floods of relief!

November: Don't even remember

December: Actually kind of okay!

Anyway, Happy almost New Year!

[3-aem]

Hey there. Just a quiet bystander who's been following your work for a while. I just wanted to say that from an external point of view if just seems that this person is extremely jealous of your talent and is trying to do everything in their power to ruin your life. They must have an extremely miserable and unfulfilling life and can only find joy on trying to make people as miserable as they are. Probably some very bad inferiority complex, they must be thrilled every time they get a reaction out of you. So please don't let them bring you down, do your best to ignore them and they most likely will eventually tire and look for a new victim, that's how this kind of hateful people is. They don't deserve your energy and attention. Lots of love for you from Chile.

i know. i have seen that sentiment and i appreciate you saying this to remind me.

but it is difficult still for me because i really don’t enjoy making people upset and it is hard for me to hear. it really affects me to see. so i want to fix it but when i realize i can’t its hard to handle. maybe also, they did finally make me as miserable as them and thats why i am saying anything at all. dealing with it internally finally became as painful as me just saying it.