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GUYS.

the fanart you did of pizzelle is on the official sugary spire site in the guestbook #1 blog thingy!!! letting you know in case you didnt see it :~)

OH MY FUCKING GOD

HAII HEY NEW STUDF

AU STUFF AND REINSTATING FACE HCS DIRECTLY INTO MY brain

shes literally my favorite oc

Do y’all even know how much Pyrric likes watching daemia kill someone quickly. Do u even know he gets jealous when she takes her time. Do u even KNOW that Pyrric is gonna miss them (with tongue) even as [rest under cut bc these two r so much]

Pyrric is kissing Daemia even as she twists the knife, even as he chokes on his blood. He’s clawing through skin and muscle to drag out whatever organs may be the most suitable for her… presenting them like an offering. Weeps with joy for the moments when Dae feeds it back, because Daemia has deemed him worthy enough to be sustenance, and because she has deemed them worthy of eating from the same source, and it’s the view of gold coating Dae’s fangs and running down her lips and chin, and it’s the way that Pyr will purr for her until they physically can’t anymore, and its the way that, after dying, Pyrric wakes in Daemias arms, and its th

HAVE IMENTIONED I LOOOOVE SPORTS MOTORCYCLES WHERE YOU LEAN FORWARD ALL THE WAY THOSE LIKE NINJA KAWASAKI AND SUZUKI MOTORCYCLES

kagehina kinda brain day ..!

Hoiiii :3 can i ask for yan! Prince where he became sick and instead of the maids taking care of him, he insist that he rather wants knight! Reader to take care of them 0:

You use the bedroom door as a shield as a bowl flies into it, shattering into a million pieces and exploding a burst of hot broth against the wall. The prince's hoarse voice drowns his screams as he violently throws his head away from the cupful of medicine.

"Let me go! I don't want it! I. Want. Y/n! Bringing them to me now!"

Your kingdom is doomed. The prince never took being sick well. In youth, having the boy sit still was like a death penalty. He'd slip out of the servant's care and infect half the castle during his daily routine of greeting everyone who worked under his father's command. The one thing that brought an end to his reign of terror was a knight in training exhausted from practice and taking refuge in his comfortable bed. The two would end up sick as dogs the following morning, but for one night they both knew peace.

You fix the blanket on your arm back to your shoulder and step inside the room. The prince tries to leap out of bed, but is stopped by the strongest of the maids tossing him into the mattress; pushing his head into the pillow like she was attempting to suffocate him the wrong way.

"Y/n!" He breaks into a coughing fit, the hands restraining him quickly darting away. "you came."

"I was taking care of more important tasks." You spread the blanket over the empty half of the bed. The prince sighs dreamily.

"Your sheet..."

He runs his cheek against its corner as you turn to the maids. "Apologies for the trouble. If one of you could bring me some more soup, you all are free to good."

The servants race for the door, tripping over each other as they shout for the elixir likes it's a blood sacrifice. You sit down on the bed, placing the back of your hand to the prince's forehead - recoiling like you've touched coals.

"You're burning up. Keep this stubbornness up and your father may outlive you."

"I'll live a thousand years longer than that living corpse long as I have you~"

"You are delirious. Drink." Lifting his chin, you shovel the lukewarm warm tea down his throat. He gags from the temperature and flavor, but forces it all down in hopes you'll comply to his commands for being good. He sticks out his tongue once you set the cup down.

"Ahhh. All gone."

"You're not a child, and it's a fluid."

The prince clings to the tail end of your armor, voice meek and pleading as he begs. "Y/n, lay with me like you did when we were kids. I've been good."

"I missed a week's worth of training because of that."

"But it was time that you spent with your favorite person in the kindgom. Please, Y/n? Everything hurts.."

He pokes out his bottom lips; quivering, as his eyes go wide. You roll your eyes and remove the binds of your chest plate, setting it aside as you swing your legs onto the bed. The prince throws his arms and one leg over you, pressing his nose and lips to your collar; falling asleep almost instantaneously. You swear to the gods if you get sick he'll be your training dummy for everyday you're off the force.

um. no one look at my f/os in my rentry

tw: nonconsensual kissing. graphic wording.

"you look lonely."

ivan sighs while you situate yourself on the sofa beside him. his room is pitch dark, save for the light from the tv broadcast.

mindless advertisements and commercials mix and buzz into the air, creating a fog of background noise. and you wonder whose poor soul is getting killed on that stage at this very moment.

you spread your arm and dramatically bring him into a side hug. "nothing a bit of booze won't fix. ha ha ha!!" exclaiming with the vigor of an alcoholic, ivan can only groan in frustration.

"i'm not getting wasted with you." his eyes look worn down, mouth wrinkling into a frown as he tries to hide the agony behind a stone cold face.

a part of him is comforted by your presence, a sense of normality washes over him. as if you two were still children playing across the fake fields and staring at the equally as fake sky, laughing as you tackled each other to the ground and picked flowers.

"too late, i brought the good shit." you snicker as you bring out weird looking bottles. you're not exactly sure how safe these are for humans but the aliens seem to love it so, who cares? "this was hard to steal by the way, i got it from those private rooms."

ivan stares at you for a moment and eventually rests his head on your shoulder. he looks at you, cold ice wall melting down and you're met with the sight of absolute pain and distress on his pretty face when he sighs.

"why does it have to feel like this?" he whispers, voice cracking from the amount of vocal training and warmups he's been forced to endure that day.

you take a deep breath and open a bottle, careful with your movements as his heavy head rested on your arm. "what? wanna runaway? you know i wouldn't hesitate if you asked." chuckling as you tried reading the labels.

ivan knows though. you're the closest thing he's got to a friend. you'd do anything for him and with him. and of course he'd do the same but... you're not the person he holds nearest to his heart.

"it's funny," he watches as you sniff the alcoholic aroma before taking a sip. "no matter how much they make us do these—things, no matter how much it hurts... why is this thing in my chest more painful?"

your face falls blank, glaring at the bottle before taking a big chug. you hope it'll get rid of your own pain, wash away all the emotions and feelings of him.

and its funny. because what kind of weird fucking love hexagon is this?

you despise till.

you wish you could tear his bones out and wear his skin, take out his tongue and say all the things ivan has always wanted to hear and keep his heart for your own.

"i wish i knew the answer to that."

looking down at him and seeing his exhausted face, makes your heart break. you want to gather yours and his shattered pieces and construct a deformed statue of love and just hope it'll be enough for him. enough to replace the burning loneliness he's been forced to go through.

but no. even if he were to love you, it'd take a million years to pass, thousands of stars to die, and hundreds of planets to explode until then.

you bump your forehead into his and watch as his eyes widen. smirking to yourself, you think, what more could i lose?

"let's be lonely together then. just this once."

you whisper before kissing him.

Protean, Renegwe

"Fang of Nulzann" © Hex Entertainment, by Martin de Diego. Accessed at his deviantArt here

[My final original species of protean, this time embodying plate tectonics as a manifestation of change. I knew I wanted to do a continental drift-themed protean, and this was one of the first art pieces I found when embarking on this project. As a reminder, all of my protean species have a name that's an anagram. I'll be posting the solutions to those at the end of the week.]

Protean, Renegwe CR 19 CN Outsider (extraplanar) This massive creature appears like a snake with a humanoid torso, its body composed of black volcanic rock. A snort hood grows between its head and neck, and a pair of horns like bent stalagmites grows from its head. It shimmers with heat.

A renegwe is a protean devoted to some of the most dramatic changes in the cosmos—plate tectonics. Renegwes are the shepherds of whole continents, observing them move over the course of thousands or millions of years, and steering them if their whims dictate they speed up or slow down. Rather than the immediate thrills of transforming a person into an animal, or the destruction of killing enemies and overthrowing governments, renegwes prefer the gradual pleasures of growing mountains, eroding canyons and rock formation. That is not to say that they cannot be dramatic—a renegwe who grows bored with a landmass’ progress might start earthquakes with magic, or heat up a lava reservoir to re-activate a dormant volcano. 

Few renegwes care much about the short lives of humanoids directly, but may become territorial of particular mineral deposits and protect them from mining or other exploitation. They might also come into conflict with magical creatures that seek to stop or mitigate the destruction their earthquakes and volcanoes engender. A renegwe prefers to fight atop or within a solid surface—although they can fly, they feel much more comfortable when touching earth or stone. Renegwes spew lava from their mouths and can fire exploding boulders from their hands. They have relatively few spell-like abilities compared to other proteans, and prefer simple melee tactics to pitched battles at a distance. 

Renegwes are more common outside the Maelstrom than in it. They dwell mostly deep underground on planets of the Material Planes, or in places where the Planes of Earth and Fire overlap. From these magma-rich bastions, they may plot against the shaitans and efreeti—both of these genies types are lawful, and seek to impose order where the renegwes prefer chaos. Renegwes are natural allies of magma dragons, but these allegiances may be fractious and marked by power struggles. Few renegwes have much interest in the politics of the protean choirs, but may work for a given protean lord on a temporary basis when their interests overlap. The protean lord most sympathetic to the renegwes is Etna, herself a being of volcanic power.

Renegwe        CR 19 XP 204,800 CN Gargantuan outsider (chaotic, earth, extraplanar, fire, protean) Init +6; Senses blindsight 60 ft., darkvision 60 ft., Perception +31, tremorsense 120 ft. Aura cloak of chaos (DC 26)

Defense AC 34, touch 12, flat-footed 32 (-4 size, +2 Dex, +4 deflection, +22 natural) hp 330 (20d10+220) Fort +23, Ref +20, Will +26 DR 15/adamantine and lawful; Immune acid, fire; Resist electricity 10, sonic 10; SR 30 Defensive Abilities amorphous anatomy, fiery body, freedom of movement, rock catching

Offense Speed 40 ft., burrow 80 ft. (earth glide), fly 80 ft. (good) Melee bite +31 (2d8+15 plus 2d6 fire), gore +31 (2d8+15 plus 2d6 fire), 2 claws +31 (2d6+15/19-20 plus 2d6 fire), tail slap +29 (2d8+7 plus 2d6 fire plus grab) Ranged 2 lava bombs +18 touch (4d6 bludgeoning plus 2d6 fire) Space 20 ft.; Reach 20 ft. Special Attacks breath weapon (80 ft. cone, 20d6 fire, Ref DC 31), earth mastery, trample (2d8+22 plus 2d6 fire, DC 35)

Spell-like Abilities CL 19th, concentration +27 Constant—cloak of chaos (self only, DC 26) At will—chaos hammer (DC 22), scorching ray, stone shape 3/day—earthquake, empowered flame strike (DC 23), greater dispel magic, quickened wall of stone, word of chaos (DC 25) 1/day—clashing rocks (DC 27), repel metal or stone, wall of lava (DC 26)

Statistics Str 41, Dex 15, Con 32, Int 14, Wis27, Cha 26 Base Atk +20; CMB +39 (+41 bull rush, +43 grapple); CMD 55 (57 vs. bull rush, cannot be tripped) Feats Awesome Blow, Combat Reflexes, Empowered SLA (flame strike), Flyby Attack, Improved Bull Rush, Improved Critical (claw), Improved Initiative, Multiattack, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (wall of stone) Skills Bluff +29, Disguise +26, Fly +25, Intimidate +29, Knowledge (geography, planes) +23, Perception +31, Sense Motive +29, Survival +29 Languages Abyssal, Draconic, Ignan, Protean, Terran, telepathy 100 ft. SQ change shape (dragon or elemental, elemental shape IV or form of the dragon III), no breath 

Ecology Environment underground (Maelstrom) Organization solitary, pair or geoform (3-6) Treasure standard

Special Abilities Breath Weapon (Su) Any creature that takes damage from a renegwe’s breath weapon is coated in lava, taking 10d6 points of fire damage for the next 1d3 rounds (no save). Change Shape (Su) A renegwe can change shape at will, but does not gain the healing from changing shape as is typical for proteans. It can only assume the form of dragons or elementals with the earth or fire subtypes. Earth Mastery (Ex) When both a renegwe and its opponent are touching the ground, the renegwe gains a +1 bonus on attack and damage rolls. Fiery Body (Ex) A renegwe’s body is blazing hot. It deals 2d6 points of fire damage with all of its natural attacks, and any creature striking it with a melee touch attack, natural weapon or unarmed strike takes 2d6 points of fire damage. Lava Bombs (Su) As a standard action, a renegwe can fire two lava bombs, one from each hand. Each lava bomb is treated as a ranged touch attack with a range of 200 feet and no range incremenent. A creature struck takes 4d6 points of bludgeoning damage and 2d6 fire, and then the lava bomb explodes, dealing 10d6 points of fire damage in a 40 foot radius (Reflex DC 29 half). If a creature is in the radius of both lava bombs, it makes a single save at a -4 penalty, and treats the fire damage as coming from a single source. A renegwe can use its lava bombs once every 1d4 rounds. The save DC is Charisma based.

violently exploding into a million thousand pieces

If I was gonna follow up a character from the original Star Wars, it would be one of the storm troopers that got knocked off his bike on Endor, not the one that got eaten by Erik's, but the other guy who limps away and quits the storm troopers in abject disgust after getting his ass handed to him by a combination of teddy bears and inanimate objects followed up by watching the second indestructible superweapon of the empire explode into a million piece again.

So he hides all his gear and bluffs his way off Endor because at that point no one's looking too hard for bad guys, pawns his armor and speeder bike chunks for a ticket into the ass end of nowhere onto one of those planets where it's 90% swamp and humidity, hires on as a ranch hand in some bumfuck cattle farm a thousand kilometers from any spaceport, spends the next four years jabbing the weird hippo-catfish like beasts they raise to supply the greater galaxy with extra tender meat products. He's got a careworn leather poncho and widebrim hat and rides on these heron lookin stilt legged motherfuckers to keep the herds in line.

He keeps his shit secure and himself to himself and far as everyone is concerned he's just a quiet dude, reliable and good with a rifle during the seasonal rush of giant wasps, and doesn't bother anyone. He makes a nice little home and has a little nest egg to maybe start his own ranch one day, someday til one of his old buddies comes spinning out of the sky into the lake outside down in a new order transport ship full of several million bucks worth of high octane space cocaine or whatever, he's been dealing on the side in his unit but almost got caught and had to bug out fast with the latest payload. Only problem is the suppliers and the cartel bosses all think he split with the product to make a quick dollar on his own enterprise.

But neither he nor his deserter buddy know about that he's just some old friend who needs to crash out and lay low while his leg heals up and they haul his little skip out the muck. And honestly no one around there is the type to pry about who skipped out on what draft, everyone has their problems. All up until the cartel and a hundred of their finest killers cruise into town.

They want their product, they want the army buddy's head on a plate, and they want interest paid on their time. It's been years and years since he got pulled into shit like this but in a that time this long past storm trooper has grown a backbone and got tolerably well acquainted with a blaster. There's a hundred killers in town but he's done with running. It's time to start counting.

So the first issue of Ziglars second Spider-Punk series came out, and i dunno if you care about Hobie, as it would be completely fair if you didn't, there's enough Spider-people already. Reading it i think i finaly found out why I felt so conflicted about his original run on Hobie and his Seven Slaughters Deadpool story doesn't really click with me. It all feels very...hollow. The look is there, it has the aesthetic, the references, the words, but the actual soul and understanding of the characters just isn't there outside of the popular base-level understanding of the characters. And maybe his Miles stuff is different, i wouldn't know as i haven't read any of it, but his Hobie stuff just doesn't speak to me, especialy after how strongly Jed MacKays original two one-shots hit me.

The jump from a guy ready to give up his life for the cause, who's angry and dark who dislikes being branded as "Spider-Punk" to this bright jokey kid who yells out "Spider-Van" "Spider-Band" "Spider-Base" like he's talking about new toys for his action line feels so weird.

Sorry for this ramble, especialy about something you propably don't care about, but I just wanted to leave this somewhere.

i haven't checked it out! unfortunately i haven't read any spider-punk at all - i love hobie as a character, but i'm only really familiar with his 616 counterpart - not so much the spider-punk stuff, simply because i'm kind of - not into all the spider-verse stuff. it's just so much to keep on top of, and kind of the only spider-man i care about is peter parker (sorry to all other spider-men. i've tried but i'm a spider-monogamist i think. and i picked the worst one.)

i love hobie in the movie, he's great. but i think i completely get the concern about "punk" being just coopted as an aesthetic, and being turned into a bit of a hollow thing. there's this artist i was ranting about to a friend the other day who i despise with a vengeance for his artwork that kind of... just... adopts an aesthetic but is devoid of any actual meaning. mr brainwash. looking at you.

i'll kill him. his paintings go for hundreds of thousands. and it's meaningless. it means nothing. "follow your heart" shut the fuck up. he just thought "banksy is cool. im going to do whatever he's doing" and it's empty and devoid of any meaning whatsoever. fuck you mr brainwash. sincerely. fuck you. i hope all your paintings explode into millions of pieces and i never have to see them again.

sorry. completely irrelevant to your ask. i should try and read some spider-punk. but hollow art depresses me so much. it gets me so sad when i see someone getting PAID to say nothing. whether that be in the art world or in comic books. sucks. bad. i hate empty art. please use your platform to say something. it's such a waste. it's such a waste.