#TURNED INTO A HOTTIE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

[swagpainterfury]

I beg for someone to turn me into such a hottie too!!!!

Reblog

[skeleslime-phantom]

They're getting better and better~

[elliott-gilbert]

[PRIVATE:] Literally sparkle, or figuratively? That is a possibility, I suppose -- I don't know that I'm exactly the type of music that vibes heavily with small town Pennsylvania, but there are clearly quite a few people of taste in this town, after all. Oh honey, I am FAR too gay and FAR too out of the closet to end up in a Hallmark situation, even if they're getting a smidge more inclusive in recent years. Not that I'd turn my nose up at a small-town hottie teaching me how to appreciate life -- sign me the fuck UP. You know what, Schuester? You're actually very sweet. I promise not to tell anyone though, 😉

[PRIVATE:] ha! Your personality does ✨sparkle✨! There's no question about it. When it comes down to it, there could be people like me who recognize you but don't want to make you uncomfortable. After all, celebrities need a breather when they move to smaller places like Bearcreeks. Or they're looking for some small-town hottie or something to teach them life lessons. Or something. I'm terrible with those kinds of plots since that's more Stell's avenue when it comes to Hallmark shit. Gotta admit I like to drop those surprises. Keeps people on their tipy toes. But real talk? Keep being Elliott. Starchild's fabulous and looks fucking fantastic on stage, but Elliott is just as incredible. And gorgeous.

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

Twenty minutes later, Solace hurries out of his cabin in cowboy boots.

And jeans.

Nico gapes at him.

“Go go go go go, questions later,” Will hisses, herding him behind the Apollo cabin. “We are on a time limit, we gotta —”

“You’re wearing close-toed shoes.”

“Yes, yes, sometimes I wear the clothes that I own. Wild. Let’s go.” Will tugs, uselessly, on his arm, but Nico’s half-certain his jaw has taken root in the ground, cementing him in place, because what the actual shit.

“Solace, you wore flip-flops to the snow-smothered bus stop in January. I thought you had, like, a condition!”

“I do have a condition. It’s called You Are Not Hurrying, Death Breath, let’s go —”

This time when he pulls, Nico stumbles after him, ducking under windowsills and inching around flower gardens. Every time someone so much as looks in their direction, Will plants both hands on his chest and shoves them into a corner somewhere, craning his neck to watch until they move on. Every time he does, another piece of Nico’s soul breaks away from his body and descends into hell. There is an actual trail of bones and tilled earth and dead grass behind him. Will doesn’t need to worry about being stealthy — the death aura of Nico’s dignity is large enough to scare off anything within a four mile radius.

“In here!”

Undeterred by the death aura, for some reason, Will seizes his bicep and shoves him in a crack between the Hypnos and Dionysus cabins. He slips in a millisecond later, crowding him against the warm bricks, forearm pressed awkwardly next to Nico’s head.

“Hnggh,” Nico gasps, mournfully wishing his last sliver of self-respect goodbye. Rest in fucking peace. “Do you have to be so — close, Will, gods —”

“Shhh!”

“If you shush me again I am going to rip your throat out —”

“Go, go, go!”

Yanked forward again, Nico doesn’t have the time to finish his threat. This time, at least, they sprint the final stretch to the shed without any more hiding and shoving.

Thank all the fucking gods. One more second of Will’s stupid torso — since fucking when does he wear polo shirts, huh, what the shit fuck is up with that — pressed against his and Nico’s bronchitis was going to come back. And this time he’s going to succumb to it.

“Okay,” Will says. He stands in front of a tarp-covered lump, gripping one side and jutting his chin out at the other. “On three, we tear this off and start pushing. We need past Thalia’s tree in under thirty seconds. Got it?”

“No,” Nico says stubbornly, “you still haven’t explained what the rush is —”

“One two three go!”

Will, unfortunately, has been tricking ADHD teenagers into doing things they don’t want to do for years, so Nico’s ripping off the tarp and shoving the chariot out of its stall faster than he can register what he’s doing. He practically sprints to keep up with Will, chariot wheels creaking happily as they rush over stones and sticks and forgotten weapons.

“We’re leaving now, Chiron! Bye!” Will hollers, moving too fast to give him a second to respond. Luckily, Chiron is similarly busy, galloping after a speeding Harley without more than a backwards wave and a sharp don’t die, please!

“That dynamite I gave Harley’ll only keep everyone distracted another thirty seconds,” Will mutters, ignoring Nico’s alarmed the fucking what you gave Harley, “so we need to move, let’s go.”

“Will — slow down a half fucking second, Christ, not everyone is seventy percent leg — we don’t even have pegasi!”

“Will you keep it down.” Will looks back and forth, eyes wide, like he’s worried someone is going to pop up with a pack of the winged animals. “Just — stop asking questions! We’re almost home free!”

“You’ve gone insane. It’s finally, actually happened, after all these years, who woulda thought, fully bonkers at age sixteen —”

“Oh, shut up.”

Muttering his complaints, Nico helps him push the infernal chariot down Half-Blood Hill. Among his grievances, he makes it abundantly clear that 1) this is stupid, 2) he did not agree to physical labour, 3) he would not have agreed to come if he had known about the physical labour, and 4) this is stupid.

“Just a few more yards, then we can —”

“Okay, no, that’s it.” Nico lets go of the chariot, letting the wheel dig into the soft ground and send the whole thing halting. He meets Will’s pout head-on; arms crossed, jaw set, foot tapping, refusing to give into those big blue eyes.

“C’mon, Neeks.” A faint explosion sounds off in the distance. Will’s eyes get more pleading, more hopeful. “We won’t have much time after the diversion wears off…”

“You have three seconds before I turn the hell around, Solace.”

“Please?”

“One.”

He pushes uselessly at the chariot. It spins a sad little circle without someone pushing the other side. “Neeks!”

“Two.”

“Alright, fine! Help me push again and I’ll explain on the way down.”

“Much easier when you just do as I say,” Nico grumbles, starting to push the stupid (horseless and therefore useless) chariot again. “Isn’t it?”

Will, predictably, rolls his eyes, although he can’t quite help the smile that pulls at his lips. Nico tells the butterflies that go buck fucking wild in his stomach to go to hell. This does nothing.

“How much do you know about the chariot?” Will asks eventually, after a couple minutes of shoving the stupid thing past a deep trench in the soil, leftover from the war. (Nico is going to set the fucking thing on fire. It’s a flying chariot — shouldn’t it be lightweight? Why is he suffering?) They’re nearly three quarters down the hill, and it takes everything Nico has not to risk it all and shadow travel the last couple dozen feet. Yeah, it might kill him, but then his problem would immediately go away. Tempting does not begin to cover it.

“Uh, big source of drama, right? Apollo and Ares worked together to seize it, argued over who got to keep it?”

He cuts a careful glance over to Will, well aware it’s a sensitive topic. He knows the question isn’t a trap — Will would never do that to him — but it’s probably best to tread lightly. As far as he’s concerned, this is a sore point that’ll take more than a couple years to heal.

Luckily, there’s no tension to Will’s face. “Mhm. I wasn’t there for much of the planning, ‘cause I was busy in the infirmary and also, like, twelve, but it took a lot of time on both sides. When Michael and everyone seized it, though, it glowed gold.”

“…Ah.”

Will snorts at his awkwardness, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah. Sure made it hard for the Ares cabin to claim, as dicey as it may be. Here, help me park it on the side of the road.”

There’s a thatch of weeds and undergrowth separating the road from the base of the hill, so dragging the chariot over is a struggle and a half. Nico can’t help but think that this task would be very easy if the chariot was harnessed to a couple pegasi and flying over the fucking thatch, as it is meant to do. When he voices this very valid thought, Will does not respond.

He does walk into a thistle, though, so Nico feels considerably better about the whole ordeal.

“The thing about the blessing —” Will grunts, yanking the chariot onto the gravel shoulder with one final tug — “is that it’s not that big of a deal. My dad blesses shit all the time. Our cabin is blessed. The infirmary is blessed. Hell, half my scalpels are blessed, and I throw those things out all the time ‘cause they’re dangerous when they get dull. Just because my dad blessed it doesn’t mean we actually have to keep it.”

“Okay…” Nico says slowly, “then why was it such a big deal?”

“The blessing on its own wasn’t.” Will’s voice gets fainter as he lowers himself onto the pavement, dragging himself under the belly of the chariot. Nico is confused for a full three seconds before a particularly rough patch of asphalt snags Will’s shirt and drags, and wow, are those jeans low rise. His throat is suddenly very dry. “Blessing a chariot on the other hand…”

Will makes a dorky little noise of success, crawling back from under the chariot. When he resurfaces, he’s grinning, carved piece of wood the same material as the chariot clenched in his hand. There’s soot smeared across his left cheek, his curls have tangled themselves into more of a mess than usual, and there are three separate scuff marks on his nice jeans.

Nico ducks his head, hiding a smile. What a dorky loser. Even dressed up as he is (boy, has Nico fallen low, if he’s calling jeans and cowboy boots dressed up), he still manages to look like…Will.

A really, really hot version of Will, but. Whatever. Details.

“The hell is that?”

“This,” Will says grandly, feeling around the wall of the chariot until he finds a specific spot, “is the reason my brother gave a fuck about a dumbass chariot.” He sticks the edge of the wooden tool in a tiny groove, wedging it open to reveal a hidden panel and a small, golden button. Nico meets Will’s grin with raised eyebrows, impressed.

“What do you know about Michael?”

“Uh, not too much.”

“You think he, in any reality, would have had that much interest in a hunk of wood?”

Nico had scarcely met him more than a couple times, but Michael Yew made an impression, that was for sure. For someone who was shorter than Nico when he was ten years old, he sure took up a lot of space. In the few times Nico remembers seeing him, he’d been concerned with his bow, his camera, or showing any given person who so much as blinked at him wrong just how quickly he could turn their ass concave. If Nico is correct, actually, the one time he and a pegasus had been in the same vicinity, they’d hissed at each other. Nico didn’t even know pegasi could hiss.

He tries to find a delicate way to say this.

“He seemed more interested in other endeavours,” he says politely.

Will laughs loudly. “He would rather shove an arrow in his eye than race a chariot!” His bright smile is impossible not to match, and Nico is relieved to find him totally comfortable, relaxed; hell, even excited. Usually, any talk of his siblings, even fond, makes him quiet. He’s glad for this change, however unusual. “Man, I loved my brother more than anything, but he was the most ornery motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life. He taught me every swear in every language by the time I was nine, just because he knew it would drive Lee batty. He didn’t care about some spoil of war.”

He smirks, wide and devilish, and Nico’s knees go weak. Dimples like that should be illegal.

“He was smart, though. And he figured, if dad’s blessing made this chariot anything like his own…”

He reaches out and presses the golden button with his thumb, letting go and standing back once he registers a faint click. After a couple seconds, the chariot begins to glow, soft at first, then brighter, then Nico has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the stinging burn, and then when he opens them, it —

He gapes. Will grins.

Where the chariot used to be, is now a shiny, brand-new, black and yellow motorbike, two helmets gleaming on the sparkling leather seat.

“…Then it might be a little more than some lousy chariot.”

Without waiting for Nico to pick his jaw off the floor, Will rushes forward. He tosses one of the helmets to Nico — which he barely manages to catch, still working on processing what the fuck just happened — and tucks the other under his arm. Nico happens to notice how his biceps flex with the action, and then vows to have his father bankrupt the entire polo shirt industry, because he can never be caught lacking like this by any mortal soul. It’s humiliating.

There’s a click as Will unlatches the seat, lifting it up to access the compartment under it. He pulls out a bundle mass of black fabric, and with a flick of his shoulders reveals it to be a fucking leather jacket and oh, gods, Nico takes back the polo shirt complaints, he can live with the polo shirt. This is too much. This is —

“Any time you’re done ogling at me, you can climb on,” Will calls out. He doesn’t even have the good grace to look in Nico’s direction, instead sliding on the seat facing resolutely forward, amused smirk on his face. And because he wants Nico to die, actually, he straightens his jacket, making sure it fits his shoulders right (by the gods does it ever) brushes his hair backwards (there is no genuine reason for someone’s hair to actually shine in the sunlight) and slides his helmet on. When he finally does look back in Nico’s direction, through his raised visor, the combined sight of his sparkling blue eyes and the cut of his face under the angular helmet actually gives him tachycardia.

“I hate you,” Nico croaks. “Not joking.”

Will throws his head back and laughs, baring his long, tanned throat. Nico follows the bob of his adam’s apple like Tantalus does the forbidden fruit. It’s horrible, and what’s worse is that Will is visibly preening like the fuckin’ peacock he is. Someone should remind him he’s basically a dressed up turkey. Or something. Nico’s brain is operating at twenty percent capacity, his ability to metaphor properly is a secondary concern.

“Just get over here, you goober. We’re on a time limit, remember?”

Shoving his helmet on to hide his flaming face, Nico does, sliding on with a healthy four inches of space between them.

“Mm, not gonna work, ParaNorman. This thing’s enchanted, we’ll be going well over a hundred. Hold on properly.”

Praying to seven different gods for strength, at once, Nico scooches the agonizing few inches closer.

“Hands around waist, Death Boy.”

“I’m fucking — I’m getting there, you asshole, gimme a goddamn second.”

“Do you need help?”

“I need you to shut the fuck up so I can focus.”

Maybe it’s the healer in him, or maybe there actually is a god looking out for Nico and they decide to have mercy. Maybe it’s a third option. Either way, Will reaches back and wraps his callused hands around Nico’s wrist, tugging them gently forward and resting them on the narrow curve of his hips. Nico holds them there, along with his breath, until some of the panicky tension starts to loosen in his chest, and he relaxes forward, resting his chest against Will’s back.

“There,” he says quietly, humming with approval when Nico’s arms link properly around his waist. He squeezes his clasped wrists once — a silent you good? — and waits for Nico’s minute nod, face buried in the back of Will’s neck, before starting up the engine, revving it twice before leaning forward, body flush to the bike. Nico can practically feel his grin, it’s so clear in his mind’s eye, in the delight thrumming through Will’s entire body, that he can’t help his own smile, too, can’t help but feel the thrum of the machine, the sharp smell in the air. He tightens his hold and Will lets out a loud, whooping laugh.

“Let’s ride, baby!”

With a push off the ground and a twist of a thrusters, they’re off, leaving behind only the echo of the roaring engine and the joyful, startled sound of Nico’s shriek.

———

next

[squiddlysq]

Love is Love is Love & so on & so forth

[piccoloswifers]

[boringkate]

How to have a succesful indie porn career!!!

1) Get a studio apartment in a city with affordable rent and then never move.

2) Live in a city with good public transit so that you won't have to own a car or take ubers.

3) Be in a place with free healthcare.

[simcoesleftear]

So it turns out the turn fandom has its very own cryptid:

the george washington stans

[deadwooddross]

Poppin in for the first time in a few months— I’ve been following your art on and off for like two years now, and I just want to say that your art style is still one of my favorite art styles. It’s unique, I love you draw noses/mouths/eyes (gods i love the way you draw mouths and teeth and facial expressions in general, am trying to learn from how you do this because it’s SO GOOD) in a really detailed way while still maintaining stylization, and the grittiness of a lot of your art really inspires me! 

 Also, your armada of trans characters (happy early pride, btw!) are wonderful. Umami in particular is my beloved (to be loved is to be changed indeed, she’s wonderful, and I think about that particular post all the time). Gender stuff’s been funky for me over the past few years, and your peeps have been something of a comfort for me as I figure myself out. Especially because a lot of your characters don’t adhere to strict gender norms— they just exist in their gender, whether that’s dude or woman or nb or something else, and it’s been helping me figure out that I can just exist wherever I’m at, too. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but yeah, it’s appreciated.

I also just really appreciate the diversity in your character designs in general, especially as someone who struggles with variation in character design. I might be rambling here, but even amongst all your fantasy stuff (I’m not quite sure what warhammer is, but you make it look epic), your people just look like they’d be regular people. Like no shade on other artists!, but at the same time, the same anime-esque small nose round/oval face different hair different eyes athletic build for everyone’s favorite characters gets samey after awhile, and i don’t know a lot of people who look like that in real life, y’know? While like your characters like Lyell and human Umami (off the top of my head) and your less obviously fantastical designs in general look like people I could run into while, like, I dunno, grocery shopping or something. They’re unique, but they’re also grounded. It’s definitely something I want to bring to my own art— it makes me feel like I could connect to the character designs more because of it. 

I hope this all made sense, but basically your art is really really cool, and you’re character designs are top notch! wishing you a wonderful Pride and a great rest of your week

I've just been looking at this ask every now and then like :] wahhh, thanks!! it's always nice to get an idea of what it is people See in my art these days, since it just kinda looks 'normal' to me haha. Never really think of it as being all that stylized until I realize oh wait, most people are out here drawing much more reasonably sized mouths, oops, and i love regular people! Truly some of the best inspiration for interesting character designs to me are usually out buying corn nuts and a beer at the gas station and whathaveyou...regular people are great, i recommend jotting down any interesting folks you see as fast as you can, like a monk frantically scribbling down a vision from heaven

[coconutcows]

I finally got to watch the new episode and I have to say my favourite part was when Marcille asked if one Senshi was more attractive than usual and both Laois and Chilchuck were like “what are you talking about Senshi always looks bangin????”

[iwanttofuckereh69]

Hua Cheng 花城

You can download high-res phone / desktop wallpaper version of this drawing for free on my ko-fi page 🖤

[hetalia-club]

you asked for this, you only have yourself to blame. Enjoy Italy singing a song about you blowing him.

if after this you want Italy in a primal way as I do; first off, I'm sorry and secondly it only gets worse from here.

[owlbelly]

SEIZED by the need to draw Estraven after looking briefly at a bunch of lovely but deeply inaccurate fanart

this is a character described as "short, stocky" + "more fat than muscle" with a "round face" who is definitely no younger than mid-30s in human years (quite possibly older!), Gethenians are clearly based physically on folks like the Inuit & Mongolians & others who live in very cold high areas, he's not as dark-skinned as Genly but he's "dark" and "brown"

the amount of thin, light-skinned, babely twink Estraven is actually killing me right now like did you read...the book...

[mxswell]

sobbing, howling, "WHY CAN'T I LOOK LIKE THEM????" while staring at a picture of Baphomet

[4townglazer]

A ma-a-a-an

[doesnotloveyou]

re-analyzing mcu female characters now that i'm no longer a fan

look. they gave male writers a bucket of manly action figures and a baggie of female characters as accessories. fem chars were written like a list of tropes except with all the "icky sexism" ones crossed out. they were rarely written as, y'know, people (willing to argue that many of the male characters were barely allowed to be anything more than plastic action figures either)

Somehow though, despite being used as a fangirl stand-in (which are often derogatory caricatures imo) Darcy Lewis is an excellently written female character.

She is always herself. She doesn't care what professional men, hot men, authoritative men, extraordinary men, or even what any woman thinks of her. Not in a Hollywood "watch me not care and be so feisty and empowered while I do it" way, but in a chill "that's cool but imma be my own person" way

She is kind but doesn't put up with mistreatment

She is smart but doesn't need men to brag about her intelligence

She is savvy but doesn't need men to point it out

She is beautiful but neither a man nor the camera ever needs to realize it, and she dresses to be comfortable while also perfectly confident that she's gorgeous

She is fearful but she deals with it without needing a man to comfort her

She is firm in her opinions and her decisions without needing a man (or anyone) to approve of them

Best of all she cracks jokes for her own amusement and knows she's funny even if no one laughs

the writers (accidentally???) created a perfect every-woman by deciding to create a woman without making her Love Interest Material. they made her the Attractive Girl's Friend trope, yeah, but at least the friend gets to be herself instead of constantly wondering if the space viking will come back and sweep her off her feet

they made a strong female character in 2010, and when they brought her back in Wandavision she didn't even need a hot girl bestie as an excuse to be on the screen. their continuity reflected that she was now the most experienced person in her field. even the audience trusted her to be reliable in unreliable circumstances the same way a hero is meant to be reliable

every time Marvel tries to make a "strong female character" they do something hyper-stereotypical that bends in the other direction. "We can't be sexist, see? we converted his secretary into his assistant and then we made her the CEO of his company" or "we showed her punching out a misogynist in her first scene" or "canonically she's a maneater but we're afraid of how that will look so we'll make her have no romances instead while also being The Only Girl trope." and on and on and on

meanwhile, Darcy was great, and I give a lot of credit to Kat Dennings, but I would also like to know if there was a female, or even male, writer in the room who kept her all to themself and said "I'll write this character, I know them perfectly."

there must have been because she felt knowable. she also felt like a fun example of what being a normal human might be like in a universe where caped heroes fly around saving the world from aliens