Actually, listening to Hozier and eating cinnamon toast and drinking iced coffee while I fantasize abt living in hyrule IS therapy, so jot that down

okay what. i also had a very vivid dream about ganlink yaoi and it sparked my neverending legend of zelda phase/ganondorf stan awakening. merry christmas to we

Wow dreams truly being a massive recruitment tool to the Ganondorf stanning movement for some reason? I mean, your Dream!Link sounds less like a massive hater than mine at least haha

snippet of a new ganlink au, just for the fun of it. got about 7k right now and going to see if i can finish it this long weekend. 

-

Ganondorf manages a few extra steps before collapsing against one of those sandstone formations, his back sliding down against his heavily as he sinks to the ground. His head falls back, biting a low noise of pain, and he draws his hand away from his shoulder enough to give it another glimpse. It's worse. There's more blood and all the movement has only driven the arrowhead deeper.

Ganondorf brings his good hand to the arrow, fingers tightening around the shaft, biting back a low pained grunt as he yanks it free and lets the arrow drop, blood still wet on the street as it lies in the sand. He presses his hand to his shoulder, a low hiss giving way to slow, ragged breathing as his head falls back once more. Everything in his head is spinning now, the dark spots beginning to gather at the corner of his vision, the magic beating through him so strong now that the pressure of it burns, only growing stronger.

His eyes close, his head falling back, and he lets out a low breath. Hazily, distantly, he hears the whisper of sand, a soft cascade of grains falling against one another, and only belatedly managed to forced himself to remember he should be concerned about it. He opens his eyes and meets the eyes of the creature in the center of the cavern.

Oh, Ganondorf thinks hazily, right. A dragon.

The beast is a glorious thing, huge and ancient, it's scales a deep beaten gold that shine in the light. Sand still pours off its side, mounded there, disturbed from its sleep beneath the sands. As he watches, its head lifts even higher, sinuous neck swinging around as it turns its head to him properly, it's eyes a deep void black, eerie and empty, beneath the crown of horns that rise from its head. It's larger than any moldruga, larger even than a talvaa'sh, and no wonder. Dragons, suna'kni, they're not like any ordinary desert beast, but spirits in their own right, greater and beautiful and more powerful.