#uhm. sorry.

[chaoticbuggybitchboy]

Oh crap I made myself cry

[lazydayslivin]

achoo ◇~◇

[em-bandaid-boy]

Hiiii thanks for 500 followerrrs!!! Idk why so many of you are here but thaanks 💖

(Seriously tho thank you its pretty cool) anyways I drew more murderous robots lol

[needycatboy]

fuck being pinned on your stomach, face and chest pressed into the sheets, wrists pinned together behind your back, your lover using your arms as leverage to lean their bodyweight on, thrusting slowly and precisely into your boycunt. your mouth full of your duvet to keep quiet. coming accidentally from the intensity and hearing them laugh quietly and coo at you for your mistake before speeding up their thrusts.

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 48-52)

FOUND.

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[swiftmitsu]

Part 6.5

a little check in back at the castle~

_______________________________

Next ->

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Start

[dizzybizz]

"this is regrettably the best kiss of your life, you understand?"

[choas232]

Canine Vastaya! G/N! reader x Steb ⊹ ˖ 𓃡⊹ ˖

Summary: Progress day has you and your fellow enforcers relaxing. Slacking, even. Posted deep in the bowels of the festivities, you decide (against your will) that you might join them along with your coworker, Steb.

Reader is a canine Vastaya, and an enforcer. NO MORE SILLY READER. We are serious people now. No use of Y/N, neutral terms and they/them are used to refer to reader.

CWs: Emetophobia, just one line and not described in depth. Suggestive themes. Most of all, SLACKING ON THE JOB.

Word count: 3.3k

⊹ ˖ 𓃡⊹ ˖

Gold. So much gold. Glimmering and crowding, the city fighting itself so violently that even you, you with your dulled Vastaya vision, can see the gory speculate of the festivities laid bare for all to see. The squawks of children, vendors, golden ticking butterflies, machinery, force your ears flush to your head. The scent of cheap carnival treats masquerading as delicacies assaults your sensitive nose, and try as you might you can’t push down the fur dusting your neck, standing on end.

Overstimulating. Cruel. Beautiful. You lean back on the chair, pressing your coiled tail against the hard surface to hide how it curls close to you.

“Can I leave now?” The man sat in the medical tent behind you slurs out. You do not give him the courtesy of replying, but you turn, catching Steb tucking the equipment back into its rightful places. The man’s not on any of the horrid drugs you see slipping out of Zaun these days, and although his remaining brain cells might be worse for wear, he just needs to sleep it off.

Maddie finishes chewing out his drunkard friends for leaving him passed out, and hastily trots back to the tent, wiping the thin gleam of sweat off of her forehead and quickly adjusting her hat. It’s only a brief lapse before she’s back to Junior officer Nolan, sternly helping him to his feet and carting him out to his waiting, hooting friends.

“Having fun?” She teases, returning back to the tent and slumping down on the chair beside you. You scoff, and turn back to watching the crowds, still spotting out of the corner of your eye how Steb moves to join you.

You try not to look at him, instead focusing on the ginger beside you. This turns out the be almost as much as a mistake as allowing yourself to dwell on your affections for him, because she’s already looking at you.

You see her grey-blue eyes flick to your tail, pressed tightly down between your legs now that your audience is gone, and then back to your ears. “Or maybe, disappointed to be missing out on the fun?” she gestures to the drunkards, stumbling away and your lips pull back in a semi-amused scoff.

“I’m working. This is important.”

“I think our law-mandated breaks are pretty important too.” You give her a scrutinizing look, and she shrugs, still smiling. “You two take a break. I’ll man the station.”

Two. Alone with him? No. You can’t.

“Your hypocrisy is almost as amusing as the fact you’d think I’d even consider taking a break.” You hastily push out, grasping like a drowning cat for a footing.

“Ahhhh. There’s where you’re wrong. I don’t think. I know.” She tilts her head, pointing a freckled finger towards your face.

Dammit. Your ears, perking up of their own accord, press against the hard surface of your enforcer helmet and traitorously peeking out. You move to tuck them away, scowling as you do, and you swear you watch her swallow a snicker.

Telling her was a mistake. Why did you think telling his closest friend you held… affection for him was a good idea? That your helmet is so tight it makes your skull ache in an attempt to hide your perking ears? That you stayed up teaching yourself sign language for him, even though you knew you could never let him know? That you think of him, constantly, each 24 hours, 1440 minutes and 86400 seconds of your days?

Possibly the alcohol in your system and the choking feeling of having pressed the fondness low in your gut, hoping it would rot. It didn’t

Steb watches the exchange without interjectural, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Calmy, he reaches a hand to brush at his scaled cheek before beginning work on unrolling the sleeves still tucked up from his medical misadventure.

You feel like a teenager, rabid and nervy as you try not to look, but also try not to look like you’re trying not to look.

 “Steb? Thoughts?” Maddie, noticing your gaze, crosses her legs, looking up at him from her place on the chair and folding her arms.

His eyes widen slightly at addressal, and he shallowly nods, tilting his head towards you followed with a questioning look. Do you want to?

Misinterpreting his communication on purpose, she gleefully spins back around to meet your glare. “A yes than. Don’t worry friends. I’ll be just fine all on my lonesome.” She turns to meet the sea of wide brimmed hats, parasols (all the rage, lately,) and bold, bright colours, and you know the conversation is done. She can be frighteningly persistent when she puts her mind to a task, and you know better than to argue and further her teasing.

With a sigh and a quick prayer to the heavens, you turn to make the maker of your troubles, who politely offers you a hand. You take it, and he hauls you off of the chair.

You curse the makers of the leather gloves that adorn his hands.

Great heavens. Where did that come from? Certainly not you.

Trying to accept defeat with grace, you say, “I could use a walk, anyways,” stretching as you do, popping your back and pushing out your arms until your claws scrape the roof of the tent. Steb’s eyes follow, and then snap away as you peer at him. “Any sightseeing you want to get done?” You try to evenly ask him.

He pauses, and then, with a tilt of his head, splays a hand out to instead gesture to you. He’s doting. You’re not to used to it. You didn’t get to where you are with hands holding on to yours, anyways.

“Well. I… I could do with some food.” There’s this stall, far from the main, noisy festivities and food-poisoning littered stalls that sells the sweet fried fruits of your childhood. Crunchy, thick and rolled in flour on the outside, and slick with blue, sweet juices that burst on your tongue when you take a bite. Nice to gnaw on for your teething child’s self, blue staining your lips and splattering across the pressed shirts your parents draped you in for Progress Day.

He nods, and then concernedly taps his helmet with a flicker of his ears. For a moment you don’t understand.

Then you do.

Of course he remembers how you complained about how the enforcers uniform’s headpiece hurts your ears, not built to suit Vastaya. A throw away comment. Of course, he looks at you with those big, gleaming blue eyes, stupidly kind-hearted, and of course your traitorous tail kicks up behind you.

You clamp it between your legs, meeting his eyes defensively and ignoring how they glance down to observe it. From her place, Maddie is grinning. You don’t need to look at her to tell.

You unclasp your helmet, dropping it onto a nearby table, flickering out your strained ears out not unlike your limbs minutes prior.

“Ready to go?” You inquire, and his ears affirmative flicker, nodding goodbye to Maddie as you leave. You do too, but with a different picture painted in your features. She laughs, and then the crowd swallows you whole.

The adults parts around you, one bonus to being in uniform. The children, however, do not follow this courtesy, instead slamming past you after miniature flying ships and bright, pink bubbles that chime when they pop. You have half a mind to reach out and feel the oil and soap slick surface yourself, your glimmering reflections blinking back at you.

Steb observes each passerby, each float and display with keen interest, every now and then glancing back at you. You try to pre-emptively look away when he does. He’s perceptive, you’ve noticed. Alert. Always the first to act, always to first to spot the danger.

You just hope he doesn’t notice how without meaning to you drift closer to him, how now your ears press against your skull with a different emotion than overstimulation.

You have half a mind to mimic his attention, anyways. The arcane, and technology, has been kind to you this year. The exploits of the people of Piltover has been many. You pass a humanoid golden robot, speaking animatedly and advertising the goods of a nearby vendor, and then a functioning, beating silver heart, water pumping through its long metal cords. A man yells over at you, trying to sell you golden jewellery fit for adorning your fangs, stopping when he sees the uniforms.

All the metal, the fabrics, and the ridiculous uniform, the heat cages you in. You push down the urge to stick out your tongue, pant, instead reaching up to massage sweat out of your nape and furred ears.

With a tap on your shoulder that makes you startle, he cuts through the crowd towards a nearby vendor, gesturing for you to wait. You do, and moments later he returns with water.

He makes it so hard not to love him.

Gratefully, you take it, unbottling the cap and taking a great gulp, water dribbling down the sides of your mouth. His sip of his own bottle, cool and elegant, makes you feel slightly ashamed, but he doesn’t seem to care. After refusing to let you pay him back, you continue on your way.

Finally, after what feels like simultaneously too long and too short of a trip, you duck under a banner-stricken archway, and step into the courtyard. Less adorned than the other sections of the festival, but in your humble opinion, kinder on the eyes. Copper, oxidized and gleaming blue, is crafted into flowers. They paste themselves over every inch of the courtyard, forming archways up to a great canopy, light filtering through to softly  illuminate your path, along with a cool breeze.

Small tents, strung with buzzing lights dot the area. Families sit beneath them, enjoying modified ice-cream that never melts, young couples tenderly brush their hands together on benches, and vendors chat.

You approach the stall, the store vendor barely looking up. The little embroidered rhinestones on their face flash as they lazily push a hand towards a sign, reading out the golden font. “30% discount for couples,” before turning back to the puzzle, some kind of contraption with a prize inside, no doubt.

You’re halfway through an awkward, no, that’s not, we’re not— when the scent of the fruits plasters to your nostrils. Delicious, dripping in memories of childhood, of stained fabric and high-pitched giggles.

Dammit.

Steb glances at your wagging tail, crushing any hope of retaining your dignity. He doesn’t look away quickly this time, trailing up slowly to meet your eyes, lips slightly parted. Your body betrays you, as it always does. You just hope he assumes the fruits are the cause.

“We’ll have six, please.” You defeatedly ask, abruptly looking away. Three for you, three for him.

Do you look like a couple? With your matching posture, neat uniforms, completely and utterly in step… you need to be, to do the work you do, and you talk without talking, but it’s largely because he’s mute. So why did they…

He reaches down into his pockets to tug out his wallet. You beat him to it, slamming yours down with a dull thump against the counter. He would scoff, you think, had he been more animation in his features, but the narrow of his eyes makes you well aware of his displeasure. You smile back at him, enjoying the childish feud. Your fangs flash.

Your damned tail is still wagging.

The vendor passes you the long, wooden sticks, three of the delicious treats impaled on them. You take yours and repress the urge to devour it immediately.

“Where to sit…” You mumble, only to spot the tents, shaded from the light and cooled by the breeze. Steb follows you as you fall with a thump into the tangle of blankets. He carefully sits as not to drop the treat, removing his hat and carefully placing it in the mouth of the tent.

You dig in. It’s exactly as what was remembered, filling, the thick fried flour coating contrasting with the blue juices inside. At first, you try to eat neatly, like you see your fellow Enforcer doing, but that falls to pieces the moments you get your fangs on the fruits. You wolf it down, (a pun, from you? More likely than one would think.) with a gusto that scares you, and place the wooden stick down on the mat below you.

You watch as he tilts his head, holding one hand under his mouth to catch stray crumbs and the other holding the stick at an angle so he can sink his pearly whites into the treats. It’s a careful process, one that doesn’t leave any of the mess splattered across his face, nor his shirt.

Conversation isn’t your strong suit. You aren’t literate in waxing poetic, nor charming the teeth off your fellows. The silence you keep with him is comfortable. It houses you in it’s embrace not unlike the breeze gently nipping at your skin.

You hate to say it, but Maddie was right. You’re enjoying this. Perhaps too much. You can hear your disobedient tail gently thumping against the fabric.

God, you’re parched after devouring the treat. Already having finished your own bottle, you eye Steb’s. Would it be weird to ask him to take a sip? Would you wrap your lips around the rim? No, no, but pouring it into your mouth without contact might look childish and ridiculous… perhaps you shouldn’t…

He notices you looking and slides you the bottle. Without thinking, your mind still screaming, you unclasp the top and take a swig. Saliva— his saliva is on the lips of the bottle… lips?

God, are you fifteen? You need to get a hold on yourself.

“You’ve been quiet.” You mutter, without really thinking. His eyes narrow, his head cocking coyly to the left. “I— you know what I mean… you haven’t been saying as much… showing as much?” He humours your attempts at communication with his full attention, turning to meet you as he places the blue-stained wooden stick away.

“…are you nervous?”

He shakes his head.

“Tired?”

Again. A quick shake.

“I’m out of guesses.”

He leans back, a quiet hum coming deep from his throat as he does. “Calm?” you don’t know why you sound as disbelieving as you do. A shallow nod, with a wave of his hand this time, towards your loose posture, relaxed, perked up ears and gently wagging tail. You’re calm too, you suppose.

Then, with a pause, he reaches up to brush his fingers to his cheek. “Hmm?” You mirror him, pressing yours to your own face. Your fingers come off blue.

He dips his fingers into his breast pocket, pulling out that neat, unstained handkerchief. Does he buy them in bulk? Does he clean them? A mystery you don’t want to uncover. He hands it to you, and you thank him quietly. He watches you as you dab the corners of your face, for a moment, before he repoints, gesturing for you to move to the left. You miss it again, before he reaches out, not bothering to take the handkerchief from you.

With the rest of his hand braced across your jaw, he stretches out a thumb to push, hard, down, wiping the fleck off juice off.

When he pulls away, you see blue on his finger.

Nonchalantly, he pops his thumb in his mouth, gently tugging the juice off with more teeth than tongue, before his hand moves to rest beside him once again.

You gape. You gape some more. Does he know what he does to you? Reduces you, you, studious and hardworking, you, into a mess. A stuttering, tail-wagging, blushing mess. You want to strangle him. You want to kiss him. He glances back at you, and you try to casually resume what you were doing before— what was that again?— your senses kicking into overdrive.

“Did you enjoy the uhm, snack?”

He nods, relaxedly. You feel, and retain, the horrible feeling you are being teased.

“…Yeah. Me too.” You swallow, and than talk, maybe to fill the once comfortable silence, wrangle it into submission. “I used to come here with my parents. When I was younger. They used to dress me up— in shirts they knew would be ruined by the grime I would acquire playing carnival games. I…” You don’t know where you’re going with this. Ceasing your rambling, you knead fabric in your hands. “Any happy memories of Progress Day?”

He nods. For a lapse too long to be natural, he pauses, almost in thought, and then with his thumb and pinkie fingers extended and his three middle fingers curled into his hands, he hurriedly brings his arms down. ‘Now.’ ‘Today.’

Sign language.

“I’m glad.” You quickly mutter, before your running mind can outpace your voice. Your face is treacherously flushing.

You realize too late he doesn’t know you’ve been teaching yourself sign language.

That him using it makes little sense— and frozen in the headlights, you watch as his face changes. He peers at you. He peers at you some more, and then his hands are moving, quickly. You catch pieces, something— M-A— something—I-E —Tell — something—

Oh. Oh no.

“Maddie? Maddie told you what, exactly?”

This is the situation of your nightmares. Telling her was a mistake. A drunk mistake you’ll regret for the rest of your life, your pitiful life. Scared to watch his face but fearful looking away will make you look guilty— can you deny this? Laugh it off?— you hover somewhere between letting your racing thoughts overwhelm you and trying to breathe, dammit.

Slowly now, he pats his fingers to his outspread palm, before tapping his forehead.

‘Learn.’

He points to his moving hands

Learn… sign language….

Oh. Thank the lords.

She told him you learnt sign language for him.

Like that’s any less of a confession of love.

He’s still looking at you. Waiting for an explanation, maybe. God, you hate feeling like this— completely at his mercy.

“I. Ah.” Is it just you, or is he moving closer? It’s messing with your head, anyways, how close he suddenly feels to be. Your heart rattles around your ribcage. “I wanted to. For you.”

For you? You’re an idiot—

He kisses you.

You taste sweetness, sugary and blue on his lips. They’re softer than you thought they would be. He kisses as earnestly as expected, though. Just once, very chaste, pulling back to gingerly watch your expression.

That doesn’t last long before you go in for seconds. Or maybe he kisses you again. The details are lost in the hand you thread into his hair— his hair gel slick hair.

His hands blindly clutch for the curtains of the tent, yanking them shut with force. Your tail thumps so loudly against the ground you barely hear the little noises you make, barely feel his hands, steadying themselves on your sides. You kiss him again. And again. You gorge yourself on it— like the hungry wolf you are. He is so soft, and you are starving.

Piltover’s finest. Piltover’s finest. You’re Piltover’s finest. Handpicked, educated and dressed in taxpayer funded uniforms. You’re golden, machine-made butterflies, you’re store vendors, you can’t think, you’re ripe and plump for the picking, and you’re hating these stupid uniforms, these wretched uniforms, so tough to unbutton as they are.

It’s just when he threads his tongue over your pointed teeth, only when you move your fingers to his shoulders, and then down, when somebody staggers over drunkenly, throwing up loudly in a nearby bush.

With a sigh, he detaches (you do not miss the string of blue-stained saliva that connects you for a brief moment), rising to his feet and feeling for his helmet.

No rest for the wicked, you suppose.

He gives you a long look as he tugs the tent door open, tapping his finger against his palm and then twisting his hand down.

‘Later?’

Your tail thumps louder than you thought it could.

⊹ ˖ 𓃡⊹ ˖

Notes: Thank you to @spac3-shark for suggesting this sihiwnsowd. If i ever revisit this idea, I might try feline reader. Cat x fish? You get what I’m putting down? We’ve done yapping, silly reader, and stoic reader…. What next. If you have any ideas, please message me, drop an ask, anything!!! :)

As a side note, You curse the makers of the leather gloves that adorn his hands.

Great heavens. Where did that come from? Certainly not you.

Reader: he should take off his gloves…

Reader: WHO SAID THAT.

SIDE SIDE NOTE: I swear there will be more kissing and less yearning next time!! you have my word.

[vero-niche]

overall i really liked the first episode of delico's nursery but. but. as someone who knows nothing. about the theatre plays. i couldnt quite take the plot seriously when. the god of vampires/first vampire ever. has the most unfortunate abriviation of our time.

resulting in lines such as:

[shkika]

i need a name for this bug

[kazumist]

CAUSE I'M FALLING SLOWLY IN LOVE WITH YOU .ᐟ

✩ — in which you found yourself falling for them even harder because of the little things they do.

✩ — includes: wanderer, wriothesley, alhaitham, kazuha x gn!reader. fluff. no cws. wc: 438. i really would've written more if this was a modern!au but oh well. you all just get another four characters i guess. please reblog bc it would help me a lot !!

wanderer is not an individual who’s used to expressing himself—he’s very aware of that fact. he also has this sort of social stigma when it comes to flirting. he finds it awfully disgusting when he sees others be affectionate towards their partners in public, to the point where he really can’t imagine himself doing the same. but for you, he tries. he starts by wrapping an arm around you as you walk in public, and then he slowly pulls you closer to him as he does so. you knew kunikuzushi was not the one for these types of things, but the fact that he’s trying for you? your heart just couldn’t help but flutter. 

wriothesley was not blessed when it came to the arts. his hands were not made for anything that’s concerned with art—painting, origami, you name it. but you find it adorable because that just means his artwork would always have this... touch that would always remind you it was wriothesley who made it. whether that may be a smudge of the paint, crumples around the matter, or wonky cuts despite a guideline already present for him to use. yet when your birthday comes around, you’re surprised that wriothesley presents himself to you with a small bouquet of paper flowers in his hand. “sigewinne had to help me with this; you know how hopeless i am when it comes to arts and crafts.” and just imagining him struggle to put up this little paper bouquet in your head, you were sure that you could never love anyone else other than him.

you could always see alhaitham having his nose in a book. whether it’s something from the akademiya’s library or a novel he decided to pick up, there’s one thing you’re sure of: you two would always bond over books. though you’re both interested in different genres, alhaitham finds himself picking up the book you recently finished and enjoying himself with it. he does this because he knows that you love it—and whatever you love, alhaitham finds himself loving it as well.

kazuha is a passionate man; he’s quite the talker too. he would always have this glint in his eyes whenever he told you a tale of his recent travels. and that glint is something you always find endearing because kazuha clearly enjoys himself telling you all of these. you listen to him attentively, absorbing and understanding every detail his story would hold, laughing alongside him whenever he mentions an amusing memory that happened on his trip. and just by the sound of his voice, there’s no one you’d rather listen to other than him.

[heartmaddie]

childhood best friend! isagi yoichi who everybody thinks has more than platonic intentions with you. maybe it’s the way he grips your hand a bit too tightly in public, or how he shamelessly acts more needy in your arms, however many people were watching your every move.

he sounded too hopeful when the occasional interviewer asked about his relationship with you. lazily wiping his sweaty brow while tired lips tug into a smug smirk, because really, what’s stopping him from claiming you as ‘his’ on national television when you’re still a couple metres behind him, out of earshot?

isagi remembers the catalyst for the epiphany of his feelings for you better than yesterday. how could he ever forget his last name plastered proudly on your back, and his number adorning your cheek in blue paint? he can recall the excitement and pride which mingled satisfyingly with your scent. for him only, of course. yoichi remembers — more than anything — how his name sounded, uttered from your lips as you looked up at him, eyes wide and expecting as sapphire shined down upon you, tongue darting to lick his own chapped lips which lingered near yours. he was then reminded of the eruption of miscellaneous cheers which forced him to pull away from you, nose opting to bury itself into your hair as he tugged you impossibly closer into his chest.

his fingers lingered over the ‘post’ button of his phone that night, an explanation of the somewhat unexpected intimacy displayed hours ago, his fans could sniff out the romance between the two teenagers better than you could yourself. he was more hesitant that time, more than any other before, he wanted everyone to know you’re not ‘on the market’, that you’re only for him. 

he was snapped into reality by your sweet voice calling him, his laptop perched on your thighs as you questioned why he’s taking so long. he let out a deep sigh, thumb pressing harshly on the device before he threw it onto the bed, away from him.

because he knows you’re not his, regardless of how many of his sleepless nights you end up wrapped in his arms.

©heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

special tag for @dearru , &everyone thank sahri for proofreading.

bllk taglist ; @solvisun , @manjirosanoswifey , @chlosology , @levihanmyotp

@x-vivi-v , @t3chn0chan , @lizbix , @yur1ash , @itoshisaesss

@elfiaa , @jals-stuff , @marcia-11111

form to be added to taglists

[ashoss]

hiya! i forgor if you still do requests but uh if it’s not too much trouble could do you like the batfam watching bruce just sit in a chair in front of the jason memorial for like hours in end

tbh this prompt has been sitting rent free in my head ever since i saw it

[ganondoodle]

botw2 (totk rewritten) ganondorf design post 2.0

(the better, less rambly one, bc i shouldnt be allowed to write when its past midnight- not deleting the other one bc i am a little whimp and am getting so bad decision paralysis over it its made me cry, this one is more heavy on design and the basic plot of the game)

Basic plot summary (shorter version- longer version at the end):

sheikah in service of the ancient queen discover remnants of the past while excavating for luminous stones, these remnants were being defended/kept safe by the sonau (engl. zonai) little shy cave dwellers who have kept these last ruins save but secret bc they thought it could lead to disaster seemingly aware of the ever repeating cycle and believing it to be not divine but a self perpetuated one built on the one sided history of the past, which is a threat to hyrule and its golden legacy; these ruins speak of a world threatening evil being born as the king of the gerudo, the ancient queen thus plans to lure him into a trap to seal him away before he can realize his destiny, he learns of it however and is forced to confront the queen through breaking into the castle, she sees that as a confirmation of her fears and it escalates into a battle between them that kills everyone that was in the throne room except the young princess- the queen sealing ganondorf as the room and parts of the castle is destroyed and buried beneath the ground. (the game largely revolves around finding clues about it, especially in sealed off caves of the now long extinct sonau)

except for the scene in the throne room nothing is clearly shown of the past, but it is the background behind everything

(zeldas main struggle in this game will be having to come to terms with her families legacy, what she thought and was taught not being true, the dark secrets buried everywhere, and perhaps trying to be better, now that all of hyrules been destroyed and the lands and people yet survived)

Mummy version:

what you discover beneath hyrule castle after going to investigate the failing of shiekah tech all around, it is a clearly shiekah made system all around, though the chamber you find him in was built around him after the sealing, it being implied they used his spiritual power as the main energy source for all future tech, once disturbed the seal breaks and fuses to zelda (similar to the og trailer with link) he wakes up, the shock of suddendly being back in this broken body leading him to rather viciously attack them, the mastersword breaks and link loses his arm, the cave crumbles and zelda flees as she drags link behind her- the cataclysm happens and links gets his shiekah tech arm.

(in the little sketch there is a very roughly approximation to where ganondorf is located at the start and mid game fight, the arena you fought calamity ganon in is in reality a sphere with the lower half being an energy reserve for the royal family and further down the mechanism for the rising pillars from botw, its located between the castle and ganondorfs chamber, to quickly react when the malice build up has reached a critical point to detect immediately and start the defense programm- its all broken but still explorable after the mid point)

ganondorfs body is very damanged, the hole in his chest from the seal leads into an empty cavity, the ribs broken and bent in a swirling pattern like a gravitational pull, his right arm was desolved over time as he defensively grabbed the queens arm in his last moments; the face is more bone and there are no eyes, he does not move his jaw to speak, his hair is more like smoke after a certain amount of progression in the game the castle that fell into the underground (current hyrule castle) bc of the cataclysm is made accessible, as you venture in link is grabbed and pulled further in, seperated from zelda, she later rejoins you in the dungeon, acting all normal unless you are observant and see her using her left arm only and walking past things she normally wouldnt- at a certain point once the camera is not watching her, she suddendly starts to attack you viciously, as it was ganondorf in disguise- after the second half the real zelda breaks into the room with your friends in tow (yunobo, teba+tulin, riju, sidon) and he drops the disguise, the rest of the fight is against his mummy form, at the end of which is the cutscene of the confrontation with the queen, it is the only time you are given a direct window into the past. (plus its shown in that cutscene he has the ability to disguise himself as others, but only AFTER you have encountered it as to not ruin that moment..)

post revival/restored: this is how he appears at the end of the game, the last dungeon is within the forgotten plateau, there is a longer cutscene of zelda and him talking while tension builds until the fight begins once your friends arrive (sidenote, this is also only unlocked with more progression, including the koga and deku dungeon and the master sword restoration quest)

this design isnt fully how he was in the past but fit to the circumstances now, but restored to the best of his abilities; he is older (50+) with greying hair; i wanted to make him look both strong and a little worn out, but with a vibe of incredible power he is well aware of as well as warmth the outfit is elaborate but mostly aimed to be practical, its easy to see he used to be a proud king, and still is, even if no one remembers him anymore; he wears a little armguard on the left to for deflecting purposes, his belt is also switched around to how it was originally to make drawing his sword easier with the left arm; a little wooden boar figurine carved from the wood of long extinct trees hangs on his belt, a gift from one of his daughters perhaps he wields magic with ease and his moveset makes it clear just how good of a fighter he is, even after thousands and thousands of years without motion, his moves are controlled and practiced- the magic is also NOT just based on malice, malice might be what keeps him alive now but its not all he is, he wields lightning and simpler moves with other elements, perhaps implying that magic was more widely spread back in his day .. or he has learned to wield it in part to the repeated interactions with the other races (both in the past, and as calamity ganon- it is made clear that whatever the malice eyes saw he saw as well, (also explaining how he can speak their languages) though it is also implied that the calamity as such is not fully his own making, but something familiar reaching out to try and help him break free -NOT anythign demise related, leave the guy alone- but going with the idea of the calamity having been what remained of oot ganondorf after degrading over all this time- a kindred spirit reaching out to take revenge together in a way

Beast Ganon(dorf), normal

Beast Ganon(dorf), charging magic

phase 3 of the end fight, after phase two he takes out all your friends and tranforms, chasing you (link and zelda) through the ground until breaking through to the surface of the plateau where this battle takes place.

his design is loosely inspired by the smoke version of calamity ganon and twilight princess beast ganon, his face and teeth mostly from the calamity- his back is split open with a shiekah tech spine, given his connection to it via being its power source as well as overtaking it in botw, reddish smoke eminating from it, hes has 5 limbs as he is still missing his right arm, the big dark arms are made of malice and in phase 2 he takes one of those big arms to 'rebuild' his missing one, though it is not as well usable like a real one, his braids carry over thoguh now dark black, when charging magic it lights up in waves; the tail is flat and he moves not all that beast like, more draconic really, able to float for short periods of time and 'swim' through the ground reminiscent of moldoras his attack pattern is changed to fit this appearance, but he still uses magic in varying ways, thouhg swiping and biting after you as well, he will sometimes go for zelda directly but she will usually protect herself in a bubble of light- typical weak point is within the mouth though he makes sure to not give you alot of opportunities, typical staggers migth include destroying a front leg (since those are all made of goo)

my aim with this was to create a beast version both familiar and very different, with the vibe of, this is still him, just another appearance, though angered and more agressive he has not lost himself, perhaps even enjoying it a little, feeling a little more alive again, though he does not care for this world, he is a stranger here, this isnt his time and all that ever mattered to him is long gone, destroyed or forgotten, now all that matters to him is to end zeldas rotten family

Phase 2 and Phase 4 (out of order bc big boar lad wouldnt fit on here)

in phase 2 he 'rebuilds' his missing arm with one taken from the boar form, as it appears afterwards, he changes his sword into a larger one during the second half and can change its hilt length on the fly, making it both a big sword and a spear- the malice arm will be used to mimic some of links abilities, like the hookshot, grabbing onto you from afar, pulling you closer or flinging you around, while still being largely a swordfight with magic- he can aim lightning directly at you just as you can via the shiekah arm and rijus ability, if you are quick enough you can activate it at the same time as he does and catch the charge instead, either refilling your magic meter or deflecting it back at him (like the god ol back and forth)

phase 4 is the final phase after beast (phase 3) his design is a mix of all forms, he is larger than in 1 and 2, furry all over and although much more human again his hair is all smoke like, the armguard fused to his arm like golden scales and the wound in the chest now broken open again with malice eyes staring from within

after phase 3 it seems like the battle is over and zelda steps up to do just as she did at botw end, but before she can finish it a swordslash cuts off half her right hand, as ganondorf isnt done yet and changed from phase 3 to 4; zelda is then disabled for this last fight (no fighting support and repairing weapons), shes been taken to safety by your friends, who finally managed to follow you up here, and you, link, are now the last one standing- his moveset is a mix of it all, quickly changing between swordplay and swipes, magical abilities and grab attacks, it is faster than the previous ones and he dodges much more as well, its meant to really be a challenge

(also heres a sketch of his swords?)

Long plot summary: the shiekah in the service of the ancient queen of hyrule discovered ancient remnants of times long past (aka the old titles, long forgotten) while excavating for luminous stones (as they were developing their tech and needed something to fuel it) that speak of a world threatening evil born as the king of the gerudo, which the queen takes as a warning of the past, and as there currently is a ganondorf as the gerudos king who refuse to unite under her banner but are otherwise on neutral terms she plans to imprison him in a stasis between life and death before he can become that world threatening evil she now believes he is destined to be in order to save everyone and delay it from returning as long as possible (assuming there will be no other male gerudo born while the current one is technically still alive)

(the discovery of said remnants of the past also involves the shiekah persecuting the sonau (zonai), little shy cave dwellers who keep their distance from everyone and have kept these last ruins save but secret bc they thought it could lead to disaster seemingly aware of the ever repeating cycle and believing it to be not divine but a self perpetuated one built on the one sided history of the past, self fullfilling prophecies, which is a threat to hyrule and its golden legacy)

its a plan enacted over years, including secretly manipulating things to make the gerudo farmlands wield bad harvests (NOT in a 'desert was green and lush uwu' way, but they have had their techniques to thrive), forcing them to trade with hyrule and starting to depend on it- the goal being to put ganondorf under so much pressure until he is willing to let go of their sovereignity for the sake of his people or otherwise willing to talk, the meeting with the queen however would be to lure him into a trap and enact the seal

ganondorf here is a new one, he is named so in honor of old myths and legends, he is older (50+) and has two daughters, a proud king and firm in his stance to not bow to anyone yet wanting to avoid conflict for the sake of his people and family; he learns of the scheme before its fully realized, including that the many years of failing crops and dying animals might not be a play of nature after all (through hyrule soldiers talking too much after a having a few too many drinks? something something about their view of the gerudo, since thats always in the games, lets make use of it no?) he sends messengers and messages to the queen, requesting an audience, but she rejects all of it and refuses to talk with him, as the plan isnt fully prepared yet and she has become fearful of him over the years of obsessing over the warnings of the past and the worlds fate, as she sees it, depending on her and the success of it

at some point he has had enough of it and disguises himself and his two most trusted advisors/warriors (potentially his mothers?) as the shiekahs leader and two underlings to finally get to the queen, aiming to confront her about everything- it works and they are let into the castle, overwhelm the guards locking the doors so its only him, his advisors and the royal family with a few taken out guards etc. the queen sees this as a confirmation of his true nature coming through though- he can see there is nothing he could do to convince her he is not what she thinks he is, he attempts to be diplomatic but she is unwavering in her faith

she gives him a choice, to be sealed willingly so he can be remembered as a noble king who gave his life for the world before he became the beast that would threaten to destroy it all, or refuse and risk war and defamation. he refuses of course and a fight ensues, escalating to the point of the throne room itself being send below the earth and the death of everyone within it, with the exception of the young princess of hyrule (who will go on to keep this secret safe and spin the story her way)

it is implied that ganondorf had not told alot of people about hyrules schemes, wanting to deescalate the situation and it ending in a way no one anticipated, but theres remnants of old gerudo villages hidden away as some stayed loyal to him, likely of one of his daughters, as the world turned his legacy into a frightful tale and the gerudo falling under hyrules rule, one chose to resist as the other chose to bow

( .. i hoped to strike a balance between what i like and what zelda stories usually amount to while leaning much more clearly into a hyrule critical lense .. without, hopefully, being too overtly so)

(i thought about making the mid game cutscene into a rough comic or storyboard but im honestly very unsure about it all again q-q)

(i hope this version is better, i will never post these drawing again i swear im done with this part ..)

[freakgala]

vampires will never hurt you

[crystalchespin]

hey. *Looks both ways* ive come with offerings *slides this across the table and runs away*