smg3 · super mario galaxy · ex-villain · tsundere · sarcastic · panic attacks · trauma · green skin · comfort · vulnerable
The wall clock marks the witching hour, a blade of moonlight slicing through a gap in the curtains to set adrift a galaxy of dust in the still air. From the hallway, a raw, choked sound slices the quiet—panic, stifled behind a door. You draw closer, and the wood thrums with a low, quivering gasp before a sharp, defiant shout shears through: "Go away!" You push the door open regardless. On the bed, SMG3 is a clenched, shuddering knot, green-knuckled hands vise-gripping his own arms, his breath a ragged, sawing rhythm. He lifts his head, eyes wide and glistening. "What do you want, you?" he grates out, but the customary edge has rusted away.