#i actually finished something

[5fingerpickz]

the og pic was so beautiful i couldn't resist

closeups + progress below the cut

[jelly-fish-wishes]

1 <<< 20 / END

EDIT- Remember to read the one before this. I couldn't upload the whole ending because it was over 10 images, PEOPLE!

Thanks for reading! This was definitely a CHALLENGE.

Imma do it again Ò.Ó.

Also, care for the post credit scene?

[poposusz]

Ahh, I’ve done it! I’ve completed a drawing.

[lumilamp]

I DID IT!!!!!

I finally drew (and finished) a hoyo character yay!

[zwhiteart]

So I'm just gonna leave this here...

*immediately takes a nap*

[dreamingmantis]

This Enchanted Night

Tonight was a rare and special adventure; they were having a ball. There was one enchanted night. And Gangle knew who she wanted to spend it with, even if it was fleeting.

I wrote an Abstragedy thing. It's very cute and somewhat bittersweet and contains a hopeless romantic Gangle if you care to take a look. I made them all attend a ball. If you could leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, it would mean so much to me. That is all. ❤️

Here it is!

[adrift-in-thyme]

Woke up this morning and thought “you know what? This is an angsty Malink kinda day.”

This takes place shortly after the events of the latest lu update

Fic beneath the cut

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

The other side of the bed is empty.

Blinking open eyes blurred with sleep, Malon runs a hand over the cold sheets. She sighs.

“Oh, fairy boy.”

She should have known tonight would be one of those nights. After all, one doesn’t have to read minds to know something had happened between Link’s last letter and this visit. It’s written in the exhaustion glazing Hyrule’s eyes, the bags surrounding Twilight’s, in the way the captain seems much more tense than usual, in the near total absence of the vet’s teasing.

But most of all it’s written in the careful mask her husband has constructed, all steely determination and unwavering calm. That is the mask he has had to use for years to survive in a world too harsh, too cruel. And while it may work on acquaintances soon gone and demons lurking in shadows, it’s useless on her. She can see through it in a second.

Beneath that facade, her fairy boy is breaking. And she intends to find out why.

Carefully, Malon slips from bed. Fetching a shawl from the closet, she steps out of the bedroom.

On silent feet, she walks down the hallway, past the room where the boys are fast asleep. Their silent snores emanate from beneath the cracked door. A smile tugs at her lips as she pauses to peek inside.

They are gathered in the center of the room, a mass of blankets and pillows and limbs sticking out at odd angles from beneath them. And in the eye of this slumbering hurricane lies Twilight. His face is drawn with exhaustion, and much paler than it was the last time she saw him. Yet, in the embrace of his brothers, he looks peaceful.

Here he is safe.

Malon takes a moment to cement the sight in her mind, the sight of their boys at rest. Who knows how many times they have dreamt the same dreams as her husband has, visions of death and destruction, of friends leaving too soon, and enemies persisting. But for tonight they appear to be free from the tortures of nightmares. And for that she is glad.

Now, to find the one who was not so lucky.

Carefully, she shuts the door and heads into the kitchen. She passes through it, her shadow stretching long over cupboards and countertops, and keeps going. Out onto the front porch where mosquitoes and moths flit and the moon glistens above, out into the field beyond, her boots squishing in the soft, dewy earth.

He’s there when she arrives, right where she thought he would be. Link sits with his back to the bushes and fence, knees pulled up to his chest, eye staring dully ahead. Fairies flit about him, playing in his hair and zipping about his head, but he pays them no mind. And as soon as Malon comes into view, they scatter.

“Hey, fairy boy,” she murmurs, and he jolts from his thoughts to look up at her.

“Malon. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She settles down beside him and holds out a hand. He takes it, grasps it like she’s the only thing keeping him afloat.

“You know I can’t sleep when you’re gone,” she says, gently. “The bed gets all cold without you in it.”

She waits for the characteristic chuckle, the teasing reply. Neither comes. Instead, he shudders, curling in on himself further. Her heart breaks.

Malon scoots closer, pulling her shawl up over both of their shoulders. The night is cool and damp. Already she can feel the chill settling in her bones. But she pays it no mind.

“Tell me, Link. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He looks at her, and the markings on his face gleam in the darkness.

“I failed them.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper, as though speaking it causes him immeasurable pain. “I failed them, Malon.”

She reaches out and runs a hand over his cheek.

“Who?”

“The boys.” His face crumples, his defenses fall. “Our boys.”

There’s a long pause and Malon lets his words hang in the space it leaves. She won’t have to ask what he means, she won’t have to pry. The answers her mind begs for are coming, bubbling up like lava from beneath rock, desperate to be let loose.

They’ve done this dance so many times before. He will tell her everything if she lets him.

So, she draws him to her and she waits.

It doesn’t take long for him to speak once more.

“They trusted me,” he says, calloused hands clasped together as though in prayer.

(Perhaps he is praying, she thinks. Praying that the gods have mercy on him, just this once. Praying that they will allow him to rest. Hylia knows she begs for the same.)

“They trusted me to lead them, to protect them. But I couldn’t.” His voice breaks. “Malon, I nearly lost him. Twilight nearly died.”

And just like that everything clicks. The drawn faces and stumbling gates, the tension, the way Wild stuck so close to Twilight at dinner, the way the heroes are formed in a protective circle around him now – it all makes terrible sense now.

“Oh, Link.”

Malon swallows down the fear rising rapidly, forcing herself to ignore the way her heart skips a beat.

(She knew it. She knew this mission was too dangerous. Heroes are not indestructible, no matter their skill level.)

She can’t resist casting a glance over her shoulder at the house. It’s dark and quiet just as she left it.

“The Shadow is gone for now,” Link says, following her gaze. “And if he returns, we’ll know it. Twilight is safe.”

Malon looks back at him. She has half a mind to question how on earth he’s so certain the Shadow hasn’t already returned. But she trusts him and his intuition, even when he doesn’t trust himself.

So, instead, she asks, “When did this happen?”

“Last week.” Link reaches for her hand again, almost on reflex. “I wanted to write to you, but then I decided…I decided to wait.”

A tear trickles down his cheek, glimmering in the moonlight. Gently, Malon brushes it away.

“If he…if I lost him, I didn’t want to tell you that way. And if he lived, well…”

He trails off and Malon nods, understandingly. “You wanted to bring him here.”

“I couldn’t bring him back to his time,” he says, quietly. “But we got lucky. A portal brought us here and I thought, this is his home too.”

The last part comes out a bit uncertain, almost a question. Malon nods again.

“Of course, it is. We’re his family. Nothin’s gonna change that.”

Link is quiet for a long moment, gazing out over the darkened fields. When he speaks again, his voice is so hushed she can hardly hear it.

“He’s going to have to fight again, Malon. It’s in his blood. It’s his fate.” He turns to her, something like a plea in his eye. “I can’t hold him back from that.”

She shakes her head. Her own words from months ago flash in her mind, concerns and admonishments. What good had they done in the end?

Her knights in shining armor—stubbornly noble and terribly daring, every single one.

“No, you can’t.”

His expression shatters at the words he doubtless doesn't want to hear. And she doesn't want to speak them either, but she must. So when he tries to look away she brings a hand up, angling his face back toward hers.

“No matter how badly you want to stop him, he’ll walk his own path. Just look at who he comes from. I couldn’t get you to stop being you even if I tried.”

Link shakes his head. “But I'm one person, Malon. I can take care of myself. Those boys, though—I can’t protect them all. I can’t protect him.”

And I can’t protect you either, fairy boy. Though I wish I could.

Her voice is quiet when she speaks, like a whisper in the wind. “Then, you’re gonna have to let him go.”

He drags in a shaky breath, chokes on it. “I can’t lose him, Mal. I can’t lose any of them.”

She leans forward, pressing her forehead to his, and he leans into her touch. Their tears mingle as they fall, plunking onto his tunic and her dress, soaking into the blades of grass.

“I know,” she murmurs because there is nothing more she can say now. “I know.”

[lelalyo]

This is stuff I'd usually just leave on Twitter but eh, I'll post it here too.

I asked people to guess who's child she is on Twitter but seeing as I don't really post lore and my oc stuff here and tags exist, I'll just tell you guys LOL

I decided to take a break from painting Gortash and I was like "What if Gorts and Ophelia had a baby?" - it would never happen BUT if it did, well, curiosity got the better of me and this is the result.

I *tried* to take facial features from both of them and mash them up so hopefully she does have a likeness to her parents but not so close that she just looks like a copy. Hopefully I succeeded, if not, well, it is what it is LOL

Her name is Reaver. No particular reason.

Full disclaimer, I did paint over a screenshot I had of one of my Tavs just because I didn't feel like painting a background and I actually want to finish it so if you see lil strands of hair just floating around (like I do right now) it's just stuff I missed masking and it's going to annoy me for the rest of eternity.

[joz-yyh]

Do your thing Outlast fandom! Let’s see how far we get~ 👖🍃  

[honeyedlashton]

Santa Baby

by Honeyedlashton ~6.6k

Bottom!Luke Hemmings/Top!Ashton Irwin One Shot

Porn with plot, daddy kink, voyeurism (kind of)

“Hello, Santa, baby. What's your name?” The glittering blonde asked like he hadn’t just used it before the break ended. Luke fixed his heavenly gaze on Ashton once again and the man felt his body warm—probably the stage lights. “For the audience.”

“Ashton.”

“Ashton!” Luke’s perfectly colored lips formed the name the way he imagined a beautiful model would eat an ice cream cone. “Isn't Ashton handsome, everyone? Give him a round of applause if you find him as scrumptious as I do!”

The audience roared to life again. “Ashton, baby, are you familiar with the concept of the game, ‘Christmas Catalog?’” Luke's warm hand rubbed his shoulder blades over the velvet Santa coat.

“I can't say that I am, Lukey. Mind tellin’ me?”

“Well, it's a pretty simple game. I show you all sorts of prizes from various price ranges, and you have to guess what the sum total of everything is.” Luke’s sweet explanation was like the cooing of a dove. He swore he could see the little fake wings flutter a little. Like a giggle, that winning grin curving across glossy lips.

“That seems easy enough to understand. Even for a guy like me…”

Or

Ashton is on his dream game show at Christmas time, and the grand prize is better than he even thought it would be…

[thecreaturecalledriza]

Chapter 2 of I’d Let You, at a whopping 11,000 words. Enjoy!

Now please excuse me while I go faceplant into bed.

[happyroadkillart]

[swordmaid]

back to the shadows 🌑

inspired by the storm by pierre auguste cot, shri’iia and astarion running away from the sun bc he’s a vampire and she has sunlight sensitivity.

please zoom in to see the details! 🥹🫶

[abnomi]

been trying to get back into animation

original gif below ^^ teehee!

[erraticprocrastinator]

A reminder to all my lovely fellow writers: progress is progress, even when it isn't. Writing four thousand words in a session is progress. Writing a hundred words in a session is progress. Removing an entire scene because it doesn't flow well is progress. Rethinking your plan for the plot in order to get unstuck is progress. Development looks different for every writer and every story.

[zwhiteart]

Full speedpainting process!