#anyway i found the image of him writhing around on the ground uncontrolled for a little bit really impactful

[ganondoodle]

rough concept for the cutscene before the last phase of the final fight; in a desperate attempt to avoid being imprisoned again (despite zelda not wanting that) he snatches the enigma stone and transforms, wrecking havoc on the ground before going for link and zelda (i like to think that a sudden transformation like that, especially when wounded, doesnt make you immediately all in control so hes kinda .. writhing in pain on the ground for a few seconds at least)

the stone is located inside of him instead of on his head again somehow and at the end of the fight link will have to fall straight into his maw to reach it and use the remedy to remove it and reverse the transformation (not gonna go into full detail again but im trying really to make it work in the most sensical way)

(totk rewritten project)

#ganondoodles #zelda #art #ganondoodles rewrites totk #ganondorf #technically #i know sketches like these with the lines still there wont gather as much attention #but they are easier to do for me #they are still just concepts after all #and i know zelda games are really afraid to show any kind of blood or actual open wound #but this is my territory now so i get to decide that #anyway i found the image of him writhing around on the ground uncontrolled for a little bit really impactful #like to show hey that transformation thing isnt anything you should do actually

[somethingjustsouthofbrilliance]

Too Weak to Fly (chapter 6)

Back to chapter 1 

Another chapter done! (can I hear a wahoo? lol) Tagging: @cosmic-malarky @swanheart69 @boysinperil @agentlokii

-----------------------------

Chapter 6

 It is the cold that wakes him, a kind of oddly familiar frigid iciness that bites into his exposed skin, painful like a burn.  Which is strange, considering that the last thing he remembers is being cradled in Aziraphale’s arms ­– warm, protected, loved….

 And now… now it feels as though he’s lying naked on a block of ice.  

 He frowns at the mental image.  Slowly, laboriously peels open the lead-heavy eyelids, sneaking a bleary peek at the length of his body, stretched out before him and….

 Oh… oh! Shit…

 He’s naked, indeed. Bare as the day the Almighty Herself wove him out of the dust of the still-forming cosmos.  

But it isn’t ice he’s lying on (though he wishes it were now, oh how he wishes it were!)  It’s worse, it’s so much worse. And he understands now why the air felt familiar to him; knows why that familiarity brought with it an uncomfortable, chilling sensation of doom.  And all he can think is that he’s well and truly fucked.

 “Ah! I see you’re awake already!” The voice, slightly high-pitched with fervently fake enthusiasm, is, unfortunately, familiar as well.  

 He grits his teeth, pushes himself to move.  It’s slow going, his body stiff and uncooperative like a snake during brumation, but eventually he manages to roll himself onto his knees.  Stares defiantly up at the “Archangel fucking Gabriel” who smiles plastically at him from a couple feet away, violet eyes alight with glee.

 “Excellent, excellent,” Gabriel croons, slapping his hands together in a gesture of perverse delight. “I was worried I’d have to use some… persuasion to get you going.”

The archangel’s smile widens, shark-like, on the word “persuasion”, and Crowley can’t quite suppress a shiver of apprehension it sends down his spine.  Judging by the sadistically appreciative glimmer in Gabriel’s eyes, his apprehension doesn’t go unnoticed.  

The archangel takes a step closer.

 “Recognize this place?” The archangel gestures at their surroundings, the disturbingly predatory smile still in place.  

Crowley doesn’t dignify him with a response.  He’s pretty sure one isn’t needed anyway.  If Gabriel brought him here to this place, he already knows the answer to his question. And that means… that means… Oh, angel, we are so, so screwed!

 “I thought you might,” Gabriel goes on, unbothered by Crowley’s silence.  “Of course, we dialed down the holiness a bit the last time you were here. Didn’t want to make things too uncomfortable for our Hellfire messenger.”  He barks out an angry little laugh.  “Imagine our surprise when we realized that we inadvertently made them less uncomfortable for you as well.”  The archangel’s features sharpen, something dark and decidedly un-angelic flashing in the stunningly purple gaze as Gabriel leans in closer, his face – mere inches away.  Hisses out with the pure, honeyed venom that would put any snake to shame.  “Feel the difference?”

 Oh, Crowley feels it, alright. The increasingly painful burn against his skin where it comes in contact with the icy surface, the uncomfortable, suffocating pressure in his lungs, the blinding, cold whiteness that sears his eyes….  He has a pretty good suspicion, however, that it is nothing in comparison with what is yet to come.

 Gabriel pulls back, straightens out, snapping his fingers as he does so, and Crowley bites back a gasp as golden chains shoot snakelike up from the ground, wrapping themselves around his wrists and ankles and middle.  He bucks, trying ineffectively to twist out of the unwelcome restraints, but the chains tighten impossibly in response to his movements, drag him down, slamming him forcefully back down to tether him spread-eagled to the freezing floor.

 “You know, after I found out about the little trick you and Aziraphale played on us, I reeeally wanted to drown you in a bath of Holy Water myself.”

 Crowley can feel the archangel above him now, can feel the press of his hand, heavy and hard, on the back of his head as he squirms uselessly on the flawlessly polished surface.

 “But then I realized,” the hand on his head presses harder, crushing his face into the floor, “that it would be too quick of a death for you.  One might even say it would be… merciful.”  The archangel bends down closer, his breath singing Crowley’s ear.  “And if there’s one thing I don’t want to do is show mercy to a filthy demon.”

 “Offff courssse not,” Crowley gasps out into the shining blue tile that fogs over with his breath. “That would be too… angelic.”

 Retribution for his cheekiness is swift – Gabriel’s fingers tightening in his hair, yanking his head up before slamming it brutally back down onto the floor.  But it’s worth it.  It’s so totally worth it to rankle the wanker’s overinflated ego!  At least that’s what he tells himself as ichor trickles down his lips from a broken nose, dripping onto the pristine tile underneath him.

 “I have no intention of letting you die quickly, demon,” Gabriel’s voice continues to filter past the loud ringing in his ears. “So you know what I am going to do?

 “M’ssssure you’re gonn’… tell me,” he manages, spewing out ichor-stained spit onto the tiled surface.

 The savage grip on his hair disappears, the archangel’s hand moving to lie flat against his spine, right between his shoulder blades.  “I’m going to take you apart,” Gabriel promises with perfectly, terrifyingly controlled fury, “piece by demonic piece.  Until there’s nothing left of you to destroy.  I’m going to take it slow.  And I’m going to start with your wings.”

 The hand presses down once again, firm and unforgiving, the insistent, unbearable pressure increasing until Crowley has no choice but to give in, and two enormous inky-black wings unfurl from his back with a loud pop.

 “There,” Gabriel sounds pleased now.

 He hears another snap of fingers, and two more golden chains shoot up from the ground, wrapping themselves around the tips of his wings.  He thrashes, trying desperately to break free, he growls and hisses and spits, but the chains hold fast, and soon his wings are bound to the floor, stretched out impossibly, agonizingly tight.  

A door to the side of him opens with a swoosh, and he twists his head in that direction as much as he can, and he can’t help a jolt of blinding, primal fear at the sight of two more angels that walk into the room, carrying a large bucket each.  

 He knows what’s in those buckets.  Knows it even before Gabriel confirms his fearful suspicion as he squats beside him to pat him patronizingly on the shoulder, adding in a mockingly reassuring tone, “Don’t worry, it’s quite a bit diluted.  Would defeat the purpose, otherwise.”

 Crowley’s subsequent heartfelt suggestion for Gabriel to shove those buckets up where even that blasted heavenly light won’t reach them is drowned out in a deafening howl of pure agony that rips out of his throat as the buckets are upturned over his extended wings, Holy Water eating its way through the feathers, gnawing into the delicate flesh, and burning, burning, burning!

 He writhes and screams, half-mad from the pain that seems to intensify with each passing moment, until he knows nothing but pain, his consciousness slowly but inexorably slipping into the churning black void of it.

 ***

 “There’zzzz only one more tape so far.  You want to see?”

 Aziraphale shakes his head jerkily in response to Beelzebub’s uncharacteristically subdued question, his tear-blurred gaze glued to the screen, watching in stomach-churning horror as Crowley’s desperate, convulsive movements still, the demon falling blessedly unconscious from the terrible pain.  

 He watches the expression of squeamish disdain on Gabriel’s face as he gestures at twin puddles of ichor, speckled with chunks of half-melted feathers, bone and flesh, instructing the other two angels to “Clean up this mess, would you?”

 Watches as he pats the insensible demon on the head, telling him with a cold, condescending chuckle, “You hang tight now, you hear. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

 Two days they’ve had him, he thinks.  Two days.

 “There is one more thing I want from you,” he says, marveling at how steady his voice sounds given the way his entire essence trembles uncontrollably in fury and pain.  

 He tears his gaze away from the now blank screen, glances at the Prince of Hell, noting with detached surprise the look of almost sympathetic unease on the demon’s face.  Almost as if… almost as if they were troubled by what they’ve seen.  

He dismisses the thought.

 “I need you to get me Hellfire,” he says instead.  “Now, if you please.”

#good omens #go fic #crowley/aziraphale #hurt/comfort #my writing #sjsob good omens fics

[uweyvi]

Trethril

The first thing that Laindawar noticed when he had first laid eyes on Muil was how her eyes gleamed. A mixture of sadness and mirth. The longer he spent time with her the more this was confirmed.

This Avari had a duality to her, a bitter sadness inside of her and a mirth and happiness that was rare in the eldar he knew. Most were weary from their long lives and all the sorrows they bore.  

That was what he noticed when he saw her sitting down in the moor (she was also still troublesome). Her long, brown hair floating out around her on the ground. She had taken the mass down from its usual preparation. She was gazing at the sky; leaning back against her hands as she did so. The only change in her posture was that her ears swiveled towards him as he came from the direction of camp.

Without speaking he sat down beside her. His back towards her as he looked out towards the small pond. In the distance the mountains loomed and a small forest grew behind them. Another small pond was enshrined in the forest. He had found it when he was scouting out the area.

The silence between them was peaceful. Off in the distance the sun was low in the sky casting a beautiful, warm light over the valley. The flowers opened around them greeting the coming of Tilion. Releasing their sweet scent in the valley.

It also meant that Meluiwen was still asleep. Her gentle snores coming from the direction of the cart. A tent thrown over it too shelter the child from the elements.

Near the wagon was Kara who was sharpening her ax. Every once in a while she would glance towards the tent. Laindawar was unsure if it was because the dwarrrowdam did not trust the orc-child. If this was the case she  was wary of her. It could also be she was curious about the orc-child. He didn’t see the point in asking anyway. It was not like he had a reason to pry.

A gentle rustling and then warmth pressed against him. His heart sped up as Laindawar could only imagine one thing that would cause such a warmth. She was resting her head against his back. 

“What is on your mind Pigenor?” she asked. Sensing that something was off with him. Her eyes darting over the scene in front of them. A smile gracing her features as she espied the nervous way Kara acted. She sensed no malcontent towards her child and figured that Kara was curious and did not want to admit it.

He felt his face heat up. Her hands were moving through his hair. Brushing it out with idle strokes of her hand. Shivers raced up his spine. This was new to him, no one besides his family had dared such a thing before.

He did not answer her. Instead he looked up at the changing sky. Admiring the way the colors changed as the sky waited for the sun to set.

She didn’t feel ruffled by his lack of a response. Instead she was busy with the thoughts of her own mind. She was in a difficult mood again. A longing stirring inside of her. She was so tired of being lonely. Sharing so much time with mortals had changed her. She had attached her heart to so many and when they passed on it tore at her. Unlike many who would have long ago faded or wearied from the grief Muil stood form. Unmovable in her resolve to save the world.

But with this endurance came the desire for something more tangible. Someone who she could share her thoughts and feelings. Someone whom she could share her soul without fear of them slipping through her fingers. For like all the eldar she could die of a broken heart - and that is not how she planned to end her days at all.

Unwilling to stop herself as she mused she brushed his Laindawar's hair. Trying with her desperate thoughts to content herself with this small intimacy.

Laindawar said nothing. Instead he smirked and continued to watch the sky. He too enjoyed the comfort of her touch. It reminded him of his family and that soothed him. He missed his brothers and his father more than he cared to admit.

Soon though Muil found herself feeling rather puckish. A mischievous light filling her storm-silver eyes. Could she get a rise out of him?  Her hands moved from his hair to his ears. Running the tips of her fingers over them as she knelt behind him. Bending down she nipped the tip of one of his ears. Biting it and lavishing the tip with her tongue. A trick she used to do to her sisters to instigate them. A giggle escaping her as she felt him stiffen. Her fondest wish was that it had worked!

Not wanting to stay and see how he would retaliate she stood up and hurried off. She moved with a fleet grace towards the forest. She did not want to act like a child in front of the others. But she needed this release.

Yet, as soon as she moved out of sight and hearing of the rest of the group she felt the air escape her lungs. She squeaked as she was brought to the ground with an audible thud.

Laindawar was on top of her in a heartbeat. Pinning her beneath him he snarled at her. His ears red as he gazed down on her, a fire burning in his blue eyes.

She regretted her decision in this instant. Her eyes widening as fear washed over her. How would this small, but much stronger, elf react?

“Turnabout is fair play.” he reprimanded before he bent down and licked the shell of her ear. A smile of triumph gracing his features as he noticed the glazed over look in Muil’s eyes.

Laindawar could not bring himself to move as he looked down at her. Worry worming its way into him even though his face remained impassive. He was unsure of what to do in this situation. Had he upset her in some way? Did he trigger something? His worry began to blossom like kudzu vines. Sweat starting to bead on his brow.

Pushing herself up against him she touched her ear a nervous half-smile on her lips. A giggle then escaped her. Turnabout was fair play and she was glad she had not upset him. She had a moment when she had remembered being tackled by her sister Gilrin when she did it to her. A sweet memory that brought a wistful smile to her lips.

Reaching up she trailed her fingers over his neck. And then she giggled. “I’m not as sensitive as you are .” she admitted. His ears were red after all and she was very sure hers were not. As she had done this many times with her family she was actually positive hers were not red.

Staring down at her he leaned down and bit her ear this time. Deciding that if she was going to state that he was going to prove her wrong! This elicited a squeal from the much taller elf. Writhing under him she giggled with uncontrollable mirth and bucked hard; breaking away. Laughter blossoming from her as she sprinted off towards the pond.

She slid to a stop and turned around. Colliding with him again with an oomph. Then she rolled them over. Straddling him she continued to giggle. Mirth filling her to the brim.

Running her hands over his armor she started untying it with deft fingers so she could reach his ribs. His laughter soon filled the air and he was a writhing, giggling mess under her. Her eyes glittered with joy at the sound of his laughter. He was so ticklish! This was something she would use in the future...

Her hands stilled as she glanced over towards the pond. A gasp of wonder escaping her. Her hand flying to her lips as she saw a star shoot across the sky.

Laindawar wheezed as he caught his breath. His face was red from the force of his laughter. Reaching up he started to run his hands up her side to try and get her back.

“Laindawar look!” she whispered. Excitement in her voice. He followed her gaze. His blue eyes widening as he saw the stars shoot across the sky.

He laid there watching them for a while before he found that his gaze wandered over to her.

He couldn't help but smile a softening gracing his features as he saw the excitement in her eyes. She was so vivid and emotional. A bright spot in the world that had for so long been tainted with darkness. She wasn’t afraid to love, and learn, and above all she was true to herself. She was vivacious and full of life and he-

Shaking his head he looked back out at the sky.

“Have you ever seen anything like this before Trethril?” he asked his voice soft. He wanted to change the course of his thoughts and he knew the best way was to engage her in conversation.

“A few times.” she answered. Her voice soft and filled with her wonder. “I was very small when I saw it the first time. My father took me out to show me the stars as they were flung from sky.”

Her voice broke and she looked away from the shower. Looking down at Laindawar she managed to smile. Her eyes filled with tears. “It is one of my favorite memories of my father.”

Laindawar was unsure with how to comfort her. But, he decided, it would be best for her to talk to him about herself. She rarely spoke about herself. Instead she spent her days

Wiggling out from under her he sat up next to her. So now at least he could look her in the eye. “Tell me about your family Baralineth.” he stated. Not giving her an once of room to change the subject.

Blinking she looked over at him. "You are quite the dictator you know that Laindawar?"

Tears filled her eyes as her mind turned towards the bittersweet memories of her family. She had not talked to anyone about her family in many years. She had not even seen them in an age. Where they even alive?

A voice told her she would find out soon. They would have to pass through the Hisildi stronghold of Celeblas in the Tinnutaur.

Yet, sensing he was not meaning to be so demanding she nodded and laid down. Resting her head on the ground next to his legs.

Gazing up at the night sky she felt her eyes turn towards her favorite constellations.  The stars were twinkling with their beautiful light above them.

“To begin my father was a great Hisildi. His name was Noruinvion and he was tall and dark. It has been said that I have inherited his smile and eyes.” she admitted with a wistful smile. Images of her father laughing and holding her, her siblings, and her mother filled her head. She swore at times she could smell his warm musk if the night was clear. If their was one person she missed most it was her father, her namesake.

“He met my mother when she was appointed to be the  ambassador for the Kalondi. Her name as a maiden of her father’s house was Norgalades. She was fierce and fiery but she was unbreakable in her steadfastness. So much so that my father, even before he wedded her called her Thalawesbes and to this day that is the name she goes by.” Smiling she reached out and took a lock of Laindawar’s hair. Twirling it around her fingers. Soothing herself with it's texture and the fact she was keeping her hands busy.

Then Muil continued, “They were happy for an age. But, as much as they longed for it a child would not come easily for them. Many times she felt a child take root but...well...some things are not meant to be." She looked up at Laindawar, her eyes gleaming. His jaw was set and the muscles there taunt. She fought the urge to run her fingers over them. To urge him to relax. She resisted this though. Instead, she continued her story. "But then, my mother was not feeling well. I have been told that she grew most joyous as she realized that I was strong enough to endure."

“And beyond.” Laindawar mused as he gazed down at her. Relishing in secret that happy, joyful look in her eyes as she talked of her family.

“And beyond.” She agreed. Her gaze meeting his filling her with warmth. “My little sisters came twenty-five years later. Imagine the surprise when my mother gave birth to twins! She who had endeavored for so hard and so long to bring one child into the world was now blessed with three! When I was older my mother confided in me she knew she carried twins. But, she wanted to suprise my father and she was scared that this pregnancy wouldn't end well."

Shaking her head as if to ward of a memory she turned her focus. "My sister’s names are Gilrin and Tinnuien. And oh, they were the pride of my life. I helped bring them into this world.” she admitted with a grimace. “I was twenty-five and my mother and I were walking in the woods and boom. They decided to come early. They have always been impetuous.”

“My little brother was much the same. He was such a shock.”  Laindawar admitted.

“You have a sibling?” she asked incredulously. Her voice filled with wonder. "I cannot imagine a world with more people who act like you."

“I have two. They are named Laerophen and Legolas.”

"Do they act anything like you?" she asked.

"Are you trying to insult me?" he demanded to know. Stiffening as he prepared himself for a verbal bout.

"Never." she answered, a lazy smile gracing her lips. "I am simply curious to know about your family as well."

"I will tell you about them later." he finally acquiesced, relaxing once again.

Nodding Muil started to lazily braid his hair. She scooted up so she could rest her head on his lap.

“Have you any niblings?” she asked. Curiosity about his family filling her. “What of your mother and father since you will not tell me yet of your brothers."

“I have a brother-in-law if that counts.” Laindawar muttered. “His name is Gimli.”

“That is not an Eldar name is it?” she inquired.

“No. He married a dwarf.” Laindawar stated, his eyes hardening as he gazed down at her. Waiting to see how she would react.

“Amazing.” she whispered in disbelief.

“You are disgusted?” he demanded to know. Worried that she meant something sinister by her comment as her face was unreadable.

“Why would I be? For me race means little. I mean, think about it Pigenor. I am raising an orc..” she answered. Her fingers moving  soothingly over his hair. "Meluiwen is the child of my heart. I was there from the beginning with her. Why would your brother marrying a dwarf bother me in the least? Use that mind Pigenor." she teased.

“You must tell me that tale sometime.” Laindawar stated as he decided to ignore that poke at his pride.

“I will Pigenor. But you must also tell me of your parents sometime. I am insatiable to know more about your people.”

With a slow hand he started to smooth her hair. He nodded once as he brushed her long hair out of her face. “That seems fair.”

“Indeed.”  She answered. Then she buried her hands again in his hair. A gentle tug and she pulled him down to her. Her eyes closing as she kissed him. Her lips quivering as the fear of rejection flowed through her. She was joyful at the same time that she had found someone to talk to. This had come to show itself in her desire to kiss him. And being as impetuous as her sisters she had done just that.

Before he could react he heard Meluiwen. She was calling for Muil and, of course Muil was up and walking back towards the camp. Yet she did stop once. Turning to look at him she smiled.

“Come on Pigenor.” she called.

When the elves returned to camp Kara didn’t even have to glance over at Jeri to know they were smiling ear to ear. How by Mahal did they know what was going on between those two?

Reaching into her worn, leather coin purse she withdrew ten gold coins. Walking over to Jeri she slapped the coins down into their outstretched hand.

“Why are there stwicks and leaves in yoo hair Mommee?” Meluiwen asked.

“I fell dear.” Muil answered gently.

“Zhen why is there stwicks and weaves in ‘Aindywar’s hair?”

“He was the cause of the fall so I took him down with me.” she answered with a bright smile.

Laughter caused Muil to look up. Her eyebrow raised as she looked at Jeri who was cackling with laughter.

“What is so funny Master Jeri?” she asked, her eyebrow quirking with confusing. "Did I say something?"

“Nothing, nothing.” Jeri quickly answered. Wiping the tears of mirth from their eyes.

Shrugging Muil carefully picked up Meluiwen and smiled. “You, my dear, need a bath.”

“So you do to Mommee!” she answered. Hugging her mommy tightly. “And so does ‘Aindywar!” she retorted as she pointed at the elf who was staring at Jeri with a gaze that could have killed.

Jeri was still smiling.

"You are going to have to talk to me later about this development 'Aindywar'" Jeri stated as they caught their breath.

"You can go fuck a cantankerous goat." Laindawar shot out.

Thankfully at that point Meluiwen was out of earshot. Still, Muil would have to have a serious discussion with them later about what was appropriate to say in front of a child.

Kalondi - Another people of the Avari. They live near Harad and the South. They are deeply in love with the desert and all it’s dangerous beauty. Tinnutaur - The great forest where the Hisildi live. It means Star Forest. It was named thus as it is a jungle. The floor has bio-luminescent plants that make it look like  there are stars in it. It is considered quite lovely by many of the Avari. It is the childhood home of Muil and it is massive. Celeblas - The Capital of the Hisildi realm. This was not the original capital as that was laid under siege by Sauron. He gutted the Hisildi by attacking them there and weakened them. Now there are so few of Hisildi left.

@determamfidd 

#Muil might have no boundaries. #You egged me on Shugahime #Really you know Shugahime....you gotta quit giving me ideas. #determamfidd #Laindawar #Muil. #What is this? #I haven't the foggiest idea. #Really Muil has a huge backstory. #I really have to write her story down. #I just gotta start writing cohesive fics. #Any errors found please report to me. :) #May Dets forgive me. #Jeri is Awesome #Meluiwen #Jeri and the Cantankerous Goat #EDITED!!