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moonlightswritingandstuff · 9 months

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How to Not Panic About Godhood: A Guide by Nico di Angelo

for @persuespost, in the pjo gift exchange! (@ethannku)

Nico di Angelo never expected to become a god. Well, becoming a god isn't something one usually expects - especially if it was completely unintentional. And is it even a good thing at all?

read on ao3!

"Son," Hades says, with the most fondness that his voice ever gets, "there's some monsters blocking the DA entrance in LA. Can you take care of them?"

"Of course," Nico replies, and melts back into the shadows. His cane gets useful some days, but normally he's just doing more organizational skills, and his powers haven’t been affecting him all that negatively recently.

"Son," Hades says, with the most fondness that his voice ever gets, "there's some monsters blocking the DA entrance in LA. Can you take care of them?"

For whatever reason, Nico finds himself rather fond of the underworld. Even without the sun, it feels like a home. It feels more like home than anywhere else, he supposes. The underworld, at least, is somewhere that Nico has always belonged in. Not like camp, where he still feels like an outsider. Not in the cities, where it's too busy and feels wrong in time and place. Not in the suburbs, where the idle turning of the streets drives him insane. Not in the country, where the emptiness is often punctured by death.

But that does not mean that the warmth of the upper world is unwelcome; no, it is wonderful to feel the sun and touch the flowers. Nico's stepmother's spring reigns above, now - the flowers are bright and cheerful, and the snow of winter has all but completely melted.

He finds himself in the landmark he chose for LA - a set of buildings that is in no way remarkable. Easier to shadow-travel and hide away when there's not reason to look.

And from there Nico idly heads towards DA, checking to make sure the ambrosia squares are still in his pocket. The passers-by don't stop even to look at his ink-black sword. They're so different. It's completely foreign to him, the people who don't have to worry about one mistake meaning their death.

The years have passed him by, and they blur together now. It's been ten years, and it passes as ten years does - blurringly but at the same time achingly slow.

But he feels stronger these days, and it seems to make it okay, somehow. The shadow-traveling barely tires him out anymore, and everything feels fine. He can summon more skeletons; age has only increased his tolerance for all things deathly.

But on with the mission, Nico supposes.

The DA is as it usually is, but there appears to be four manticores. No matter how good Nico gets, he'll never be able to take on several manticores alone, so skeletons it is.

He takes a few seconds to analyze the situation. The DA swarms with souls, as usual, hesitant and creeping in the corners in light of the manticores. But Nico can't use them - for one, they're souls, ghosts, whatever you want to call them. Unable to work. For another, they're scared.

Skeletons are much easier. They don't have emotions - like fear and cowardice, which ultimately come from the same place, Nico supposes.

It's fine, though. LA is a city; it reeks of death in every corner. And there has to be at least a few cemeteries nearby. And, naturally, there is - the DA is situated near one, how convenient.

Nico summons some skeletons as backup.

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" he asks the manticores. Never hurts to be polite.

One of them lunges at him. Nico sidesteps.

"Well, not feeling very polite or talkative, are we? Shame."

The skeletons approach them and are supremely unsubtle. Sometimes Nico hates working with skeletons.

He summoned six skeletons, so two per manticore, plus a manticore that's all Nico's. He'll let the skeletons do their thing. This manticore is all his.

The manticore charges at Nico, growling on the way. Nico jumps up, backflipping in the process, and lands on the manticore's head.

Go time.

Monsters don't actually just explode, even if it's a killing shot, frustratingly enough. So Nico stabs it straight in its rather ugly head, jumping off as it roars in anger. He lands in front of the manticore, and slashes at its arm, cutting it off. Nico's figured by now that manticores die best when one of their arms is cut off and there's a hole in their head. Or rather, Nico-Percy-Annabeth-Hazel-Leo-Frank-Piper have figured it out.

So he refocuses his efforts and stabs the manticore in the heart - or where it would be. Nico's not entirely sure monsters have organs like humans and, presumably, gods do.

But he digresses. The Romans' stabbing is not all bad; although Nico is a Greek and prefers slashing, stabbing can show its use every once in a while. Case in point, now.

With that manticore dead, or, rather, exploded, Nico looks around. The skeletons are taking care of the remaining two manticores, so Nico gives them a (metaphorical) hand. One of them quite literally does not have a hand. Nico wonders if he pulled it off to beat the manticore with. Probably. Skeletons are brutal and rather single-minded.

And then, with a start, the adrenaline wears off and Nico realizes that his arm really hurts.

And sure enough he looks down and-

Oh.

Because the blood he usually sees, the blood as red as any other human's, is gold. And the cut is closing as quickly as a Nico supposes gods heal.

He swipes at it. It's thick, thicker than blood, ichor-thick.

He shadow-travels away with a flash of darkness.

«»

Nico doesn't even think about where he travels, he just travels somewhere. It's a meadow in the middle of nowhere, nothing special, really. The flowers remind him of his stepmother.

The soft grass pads his knees as they sink to the ground, mostly from shock.

He's a god. He's a god. He's a god.

There's nothing else to say. How could there be?

He's a god.

Maybe he should've listened to Will.

("You need to stop!" Will hisses like he always does.

"Stop what?"

"You're hurting yourself. No more powers."

"They're my powers. I know my limits!"

"No. Doctor's orders."

"Go to Tartarus!"

"Doctor's orders," Will says, not even slightly emotional. He looks like he's dealing with a young child.

"No."

"Nico."

"No! Why won't you just understand! I'm perfectly fine!"

"If you keep losing your powers, you'll lose yourself," Will says, as ever a paragon of rationality.

"Maybe I'd rather lose my powers than stop."

"You're so self-sacrificing."

"It was one message. It's not going to hurt me!"

"Nico. I can't keep dating you if you keep doing this."

"Then don't."

For the first time, Will looks shocked at Nico's words. "What?"

"You heard me. I'm not stopping."

"Really? After all we've been through? You're breaking up with me?"

A surge of confidence. "Yes. We're over."

Before Will can get a word in edgewise, Nico shadow-travels away.)

Nico takes a deep breath. It's been ten years. Will was right, though - his powers are the end of him. Gods are gods. They are just as beautiful as they are terrible.

Nico had a lot of arguments with Will over his powers. It's been ten years since they broke up, but those ten years have diminished none of the shame that Will bestowed upon Nico's powers.

Should he have listened?

Nico hasn't dated anyone since he broke up with Will. It's never felt like the right time, for lack of a better word. Underworld duties, duties for everyone.

No. He's been much better since he dated Will. There's no place for regret.

But he's a god. And gods mean something else, too.

("I think being a god must be miserable," Reyna says. It's a lovely afternoon, the sun seeping golden light into the Garden of Bacchus, blue sky painted over with reds and oranges and yellows and blacks. It's frozen over in winter, and Nico knows that the Underworld is a reverse of this frigid cold. They're nineteen and twenty, it's been five years since they met, four since the last war, but nothing much ever changes.

Nico hums in response to Reyna's words.

"They can't change," she continues softly, "or really live. I think that dying and being a god must be close."

"Maybe," Nico says. "But I think it's easier to hope they can."

"They're cruel, the gods," Reyna replies. "Is that what it is to be a god? Is it to be cruel?"

Nico falls silent at that; he can bring up examples, but the gods stand by when cruelties happen. It is just as cruel to be a perpetuator as it is to be a bystander.

"I don't think I could stand immortality," Reyna finishes.)

Could Reyna stand him, stand a friend turned god?

There's nothing stopping him from being identical to every other god. Gods don't change, he knows, it rings in Nico's ears as steadily as the birds chirping in the distant background, as the shadows creeping towards him.

And gods mean things. Gods have things that humans don't - just like how Psyche has souls, Persephone has spring. What is Nico made of? What has become his heart instead of what used to be there, when he was more mortal than immortal?

He is deathless now; and that means things he can never stand. Reyna can't; he can't; no one can.

But some mortals do turn godly; it is not unobserved, after all.

Some turn it down. Like Percy.

That gives Nico an idea.

«»

He reappears on Percy’s fire escape-slash-balcony and knocks on the door. The great, twice-prophecy-hero Percy Jackson appears. He’s in his pajamas (at two o’clock in the afternoon) and nods at Nico, before leading him into the apartment’s kitchen silently.

"Really, Nico?" Percy asks. "Why is it always through the fire escape?"

Nico shrugs and grabs himself a blue cookie off of the plate in Percy's kitchen. “It’s more fun that way. A tradition, if you will.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “Sure. Now, why are you here? You only ever come if you need something.”

That’s a little rude. Even if it is true.

“And I’m not going on another ‘field trip’ to the local graveyard with you. Much less letting you use my blood again.”

“What? Ghosts love son-of-Poseidon blood!”

“Sure. Anyway, what’re you here for?”

Nico grabs a knife, Annabeth’s by its look (she usually has it on her – why not now?) and slices the back of his hand.

It bleeds gold.

“Oh,” Percy says, his eyes momentarily widening. “How’re you feeling?”

“Weird. Nothing’s changed.”

Percy laughs. “That’s with everything with the gods. You could change that, though.”

“I highly doubt-”

“Oh, please. Be our union representative. I’m retiring.”

Nico snorts. “Union representative?”

“Who got the gods to claim all their kids by thirteen? Me. I support the gods paying their child support, Nico.”

“Fair enough.”

Percy smiles. “Anyway, I think this is the second time you’ve truly surprised me.”

“What was the first?”

“When you said you had a crush on me! I thought you hated me!”

“I should’ve. I have terrible taste in men.”

“Hey!”

It feels good to laugh; laughter feels a lot like home.

“Anyway, need anything?”

“Another blue cookie.”

“Besides that?” Percy asks, handing Nico another cookie.

“Probably… I don’t know. Do you think gods can change?”

“Yes,” Percy says instantaneously. “Look at Apollo. Look at Athena. She’s okay-ish with me now!”

“Thanks,” Nico says. “Anyway, do you have any guesses to why I’m a god?”

“No, but from now on whenever anyone argues with me I’ll just say you’re a god. No one can disagree. I need you to do a well-timed signal too, though. I can’t wait to tell everyone. My cousin’s a god!”

Nico rolls his eyes. “I am not helping you with that.”

“It’d be funny.”

“Maybe once or twice,” Nico laughs. “Does this mean I’m your favourite cousin?”

“Hmm. Well, Hazel’s never tried to kill and/or doom me…”

“Of course.”

“I lied. I have no favourites. Except Thalia is my least favourite.”

Nico snorts. “Is it because she tried to strike you with lightning?”

“Yes.”

“Thirteen, no, fourteen years ago.”

“Yes.”

Nico nods. “That’s fair.”

Nico continues munching on the blue cookie, while Percy does the same.

“You know I’ll always think of you as my cousin, right?”

“Yes, of course I know.”

“Great. Because even godhood won’t be an escape from me.”

“Nevermind. Get out of my life.”

“Never. Anyway, are you staying here, or?”

“I’m going back to the underworld. Reporting for a mission, et al.”

Percy nods. “See you sometime?”

“See you sometime,” Nico promises, and fades back into the shadows.

«»

“Welcome back, son,” Hades says. “The mission was successful, I presume.”

“Yes, Father, it was.”

Hades gives a single nod, as to dismiss Nico.

“I believe I am a god now,” Nico tells him.

Hades gives another nod. “It appears people have begun to think of you as a god, and as thus you are. The effects will start to set in. Do not leave until you are in control of your godly form.”

“I see,” Nico lies. He, in fact, does not see. “I should take my leave now, Father.”

He leaves towards his rooms.

Nico di Angelo, god of something. It sounds odd, but it could work, maybe. He could change the gods.

He just has to make sure the gods don’t change him first.

#nico di angelo #percy jackson #pjo gift exchange 2023 #pjo #hoo #toa #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo

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tegu-the-tegu · 5 months

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Flavoured Artificer Concepts

Artificer is by FAR my favourite class in Dungeons and Dragons, primarily for how customisable they can be with regards to their flavour; because of the ability to cast through any tools you are proficient in, it gives a LOT of range to how your magic works. As such, I will put some ideas I have had to build unique Artificers.

An Artillerist that uses woodworking to carve totems; they are flavoured as a tribal shaman that summons the spirits of magical creatures to aid in battle. Their flamethrower turret conjures a dragon spirit to burn their foes, their protector turret calls the spirit of a unicorn to protect the virtuous, and their ballista invokes a manticore spirit to pepper distant foes with spikes. Their other spells can also be flavoured this way, such as Thunderwave being flavoured as an Aerosaur spirit emerging from a totem and flapping its wings to blow enemies away!

A Battlesmith that uses leatherworking to create a horrific stitched Frankenstein's monster for their steel defender. Every time they kill things, they skin the corpses to repair their hideous flesh monster. Or, if you prefer, you could stick with the shamanistic theme from the Artillerist entry, and use leatherworking to maintain the pelt of the first wolf you killed; its spirit inhabits that pelt, and defends you to this day!

An Alchemist that uses chef's tools to create supernaturally delicious food that cures illnesses and grants supernatural abilities. I have actually played this, he used brewers supplies to create caustic acidic drinks, had peppers so hot that it made your breath ignite to cast fire spells, and he would spray sticky toffee over the area for web. He would make food puns, and was named Guido Fiero.

An Armorer that uses jeweller's tools to create bling that imbues them with magical powers. A circlet that grants a force field, a ring that shoots lightning, a pair of bracelets that create thunderous shockwaves when brought together. Then, when you hit level 9, you can have distinct infusion tied to each one! A circlet or diadem or whatever for head armour, necklace for chest armour, anklets for boots, and bracelets or rings for the weapon! Perfect for a wealthy nobleman artificer who wants to broadcast their glamorous lifestyle.

There are loads of other things you can do with each tool proficiency, and it's a shame that the class is so easily pigeonholed into "The Tech Class". Not to say I don't like the gnomish tinker that creates fantastical and crazy gizmos to mimic magical effects. Hell, my character in the campaign I'm not DMing is exactly that, an autognome (Flavoured to look like a normal gnome in the face, so they appear normal when wearing their clothes) that woke up one day in a tinker's lab next to his deceased creator, and then left to try and find a purpose in the world. He has an insect motif, so all of his spells and things are flavoured as small clockwork insects he makes.

But the point is, while that's a staple of the Artificer class fantasy, there are loads of other ideas to flavour it! A calligrapher that writes arcane runes in the air, a potter with a terracotta soldier for a steel defender, a weaver that knits arcane circles, a painter whose drawings become magical effects, a glassblower whose glass figurines come to life, I can't think of one for cartographer's tools, but I bet there is a dope idea in there somewhere!

Even as I mentioned before with leatherworking, you can have the exact same class, the exact same subclass, and the exact same tool, and STILL have wildly different flavour! One is Doctor Frankenstein, the other is a mystical shaman with a spirit guide!

Anyway, that's today's rambling. I would also do a thing on subclasses the Artificer could have, given they only have four, but that's a whole other rant. Besides, this is already a thesis.

#dnd artificer #dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #d&d #dnd #d&d 5e #I don't actually know what I'm meant to do for tags #I'm new here.#Still figuring it all out

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matchalattegreen · 5 months

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Solangelo: Too Powerful

Nico and Will were hanging out in the Hades cabin. Nico was trying to fix the fireplace and Will was watching him with caution. Everything seemed peaceful. Until they suddenly heard the conch horn. Camp was under attack.

Nico jumped up. Will pulled him back before he ran off. "Nico, be careful."

Nico smiled. "Of course," he said, then kissed Will's cheek. Nico ran off to join the battle and Will raced to the infirmary to help whoever would need it as the battle progressed.

Will waited in the infirmary but luckily, no one had been brought in yet. So Will decided to watch the battle and keep an eye on Nico from afar. On the porch, Will watched the fight against a team of brutal monsters. Nico was battling a large lion with an unusual tail. A manticore. Will watched him protectively, praying he would be ok. Then, he saw Nico using an intense amount of focus and concentration. Will knew he was about to do something risky. His job was to stop it before it happened. So Will ran out into the battlefield, sprinting toward Nico. Things were escalating quickly. Will prayed he would make it in time. He quickly approached Nico and put his hand on Nico's shoulder. Nico was still focused on what he was about to do as he spun around and accidentally unleashed whatever he was directing toward the manticore. A black spark appeared between them and Will collapsed.

Nico quickly caught Will before he hit the ground. "No..." Nico mumbled, staring in horror at Will's limp body. Will never got hurt. He only helped other people who were hurt. This was bad. Nico lifted Will's body into his arms and ran to the infirmary to get him away from the battle.

Nico rushed into the infirmary and gently laid Will down on one of the beds. He quickly checked his pulse and breathing. His pulse was slow and weak, Nico could barely feel it. His breathing was also weak and shallow, almost nonexistent.

What have I done, thought Nico. The curse was meant for the manticore. It would have worked great. But now everything had backfired and his favorite person on earth was on the verge of death.

Nico scrambled to help Will. He just couldn't lose him. But, Nico didn't know how to heal anything. Will was the healer and the medic. But Nico didn't have Will right now, and if he wanted him back, he was gonna have to think.

First, Nico snatched up a vial of nectar and beta an to trickle some into Will's mouth. Nico waited a moment but nothing seemed to be happening. He then grabbed a vial of some sort of medicine that was supposed to help counteract curses. Nico dripped the dark blue liquid into Will's mouth. Some of Will's color returned but his breathing and pulse were still weak. Nico didn't know what to do. Then suddenly Chiron came in.

His face looked a bit surprised. "Nico...?" Chiron studied the scene and his eyes widened. "Is that Will?"

Nico nodded sadly, his face red and tear stained. He took a shaky breath. "I-I was about to use a death curse on the manticore but will got in the way..."

"Oh dear," said Chiron. He came over and checked on Will. "He's alive but I'm afraid he's in a fragile state. We need to act quickly."

Chiron took a glass and mixed together and assortment of medicines from chop different vials then poured the solution into Will's mouth.

Will slowly began to look better but he was still in a dangerous condition. His heart was beating slowly and faintly and his breath was soft and uneven.

"Can you please make him at least wake up?" Nico sniffed.

"I'm trying my hardest Nico," said Chiron. "You are a very powerful demigod, you know that, and your intent was to kill, you just had aimed at the wrong target."

"So is he gonna make it?" Nico asked fearfully.

Chiron sighed. "I hope so, I really do. If we put in enough effort he could survive but like I said, you are a very powerful demigod and you put your effort into this curse."

Nico's eyes welled up with tears again. "I didn't wanna hit Will though-"

Chiron gave a sympathetic smile. "Look Nico, we all understand that this was just a big accident. It happened to cost a lot though. All we can do now is hope and pray."

Nico let out a shaky breath and put his hand on Will's shoulder. "Come on baby. Open your eyes. Come on."

Will remained unconscious. Chiron sighed. "Just give him time. He's been through a lot."

Suddenly Will began to stir and his eyes fluttered open wearily.

Nico gasped. "Will!"

Nico threw his arms around Will and held on tight. Will was startled at first then settled into the embrace.

Will stuttered. "W-what happened?"

Nico sighed. "You got in the way of a really strong spell I cast. You almost died. But don't worry, you're ok now. You just need to rest."

Will nodded weakly, then spoke up. "Nico?"

"Yea?" Nico replied.

Will smiled. "Will you lie down with me?"

Nico grinned and nodded, then lay down and snuggled up against Will.

Will was blushing and his heart swelled with love. "I love you my grumpy ball of darkness."

Nico held back a chuckle. "I love you too my glow-in-the-dark boyfriend."

Will chuckled and coughed a bit. Nico's smile vanished and was replaced with a look of care and concern. "Rest, Will."

Will closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Nico watched his serene expression, then closed his eyes as well, and the couple slept in peace, holding on tightly to each other.

#solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #the sun and the star #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #camp half blood #kal writes

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aroaceleovaldez · 1 year

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Whatever you do don’t think about how there’s a very subtle implication in TTC that when Nico first joins CHB and learns about demigods he’s absolutely thrilled at the concept of being a hero. His special interests both relate to heroes and adventure - Mythology/Greek mythology, pirates, etc. He’s enamored with Percy because Percy is his idea of a perfect hero - with them literally meeting with Percy arriving to try and save them from the Manticore. He tries to sneak off to join Bianca’s quest before Percy stops him, because he wants to go on the adventure with his sister.

But then Nico learns that most people are scared and unsettled by him (or before his death powers kicked in, just annoyed and unsettled by him), and no matter what he does he can never change that. And on his adventures he’s tortured and tormented and alone and keeps getting kidnapped and nearly dying. And every time he helps people he can only do it from the shadows, or if he is able to be prominent in his acts of heroism he’s often overshadowed. In TLO he’s so proud to bring reinforcements and be the center of attention for just one moment, saying dorky one-liners and sassing Kronos in his fancy thematic armor while being all dramatic. And after the war the Ares cabin thinks he’s cool and not scary, just for a week or so. But it’s all forgotten so quickly.

And by HoO it’s so clear he’s given up on the dream of his idolized hero completely. He’s willing to waste away and die with no one acknowledging his contributions so long as the job gets done and everyone is safe. He’s physically a wreck, one foot in the grave while Reyna is arriving with the Athena Parthenos in a huge flourish with the blessing of a goddess and getting the glory for their quest. And his disillusionment kind of comes across in his bitterness towards Jason at first - Jason who got to be Camp Jupiter’s best and most perfect hero just by existing most of the time while Nico’s been putting in all of his effort to try and fight against people’s distaste towards him and put good into the world.

Nico just wanted to be a hero </3

#pjo #riordanverse #nico di angelo #analysis #you could also argue something something Nico's first crush being his idolized version of a hero (Percy)#but then later once he gives up on that idea (And his crush on Percy) he ends up falling for a hero closer to his lived experience (Will)#A hero who also usually is overshadowed and doesn't get any glory for the bloody work he does (cause Will is a medic)

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foodsies4me · 8 months

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January Malec fic rec!

Because I'm always weak for a theme, I've decided to take a theme for each small fic rec and we're starting out with wing fics! I'm trying to keep this to one rec per author, but some of them have multiple wing fics, so make sure to go look!

Also, for those who want to add their own recs, please feel free to do so!

One-shots:

Angel Feathers by Eff_Dragonkiller: A fic with a winged Alec that has some interesting world-building regarding the winged Nephilim! Not for those who are big fans of Clary as a character though.

Summary:

Magnus ran his finger down the list of ingredients checking that they had everything needed for the antidote. Manticore horn--check. Newt's eye, Star's tear, Tongue of the devil--check, check, check. An Angel's feather--not check. Not check at all.

Feather of a Nephilim by Bohemian (Linguam): Magnus gets a call from Izzy to warn him something happened to Alec, but she can't tell him what. Finding out his husband sprouted wings while he wasn't looking wasn't something Magnus saw coming.

Summary:

Magnus can feel the bones in Alec’s hand shift for how hard he’s squeezing. “Alexander, please. Whatever it is, let me help you.” Alec frowns down at their hands. His throat works. “Did you know that some Nephilim are born with wings?” Magnus stares at him. Out of all the things he had expected, it certainly wasn’t that.

First step after the fall by sugarandspace: What if Magnus had a different warlock mark and dove after Alec when he was standing on that roof in S2e8? (Yes a Magnus wingfic!!!)

Summary:

Magnus sees Alec fall from the ledge and in a blink of an eye Magnus' wings are out and he's rushing to catch him. When Alec regains consciousness they need to have a conversation - both about how Alec reacted to the spell and about Magnus' warlock mark.

Painted Wings by AceOnIce: A slightly different take on wings. This fic is just fluffy and adorable and sometimes that's just what you need.

Summary:

Magnus wants to make his art project unique so he enlists his boyfriend's help. Alec is the best canvas, and muse, Magnus has ever encountered.

Multi-chapter fics or series:

Set Free by @dreaming-marchling: I suppose most people who like wingfics have already read this gem, but I couldn't write a wingfic list without including this one because I love it so much.

Summary:

Alec Lightwood has wings and he is not okay with it. Magnus is, though. He is totally okay with it and he will drag Alec down the path of self-acceptance kicking and screaming.

Courting Rituals of a Modern Day Warlock by @to-the-stars-writing wonderful like all of the fics by to-the-stars-writing! An everyone has wings fic!

Summary:

After everything with the Soul Sword, after breaking apart and then bringing their lives back together, Alec wanted to do something to show Magnus that he truly loved him. Something that would let the warlock know just how important he was.

Embroidery Rose by tiredfairycake: This one is an emotional rollercoaster. Temporary character death, but it has a happy ending.

Summary:

Alec dies and Magnus is left to deal with it, until seven months later when Alec comes walking into the loft, covered in dirt and blood.

Take These Broken Wings by Molly-Jae: A wings soulmate AU!

Summary:

Alec hadn't wanted a soulmate until he'd nearly lost him. Magnus just wanted a chance at peace (in the world? of mind? -- that's left to be seen).

Fallen Angel by cuubism: What the summary says!

Summary:

“What do you think you could do,” Alec says, “with angelic power?” Alec and Asmodeus make a different deal.

#foodsies recs fics #there are many other fics I love #but I wanted to keep it to 10-ish fics per rec #to not get too stressed doing these

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solroskajan · 24 days

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walks over. hello i'm going to infodump a bit BUT that manticore au post makes my braincells kick into full gear (and i adore your design for v in it so much, omfg) SO!

hooded pitohuis! via wikipedia:

"A medium-sized songbird with reddish-brown and black plumage, this species is one of the few known poisonous birds, containing a range of batrachotoxin compounds in its skin, feathers and other tissues."

batrachotoxin itself can be found in poison dart frogs, so you Know it's Bad™️ and it also has no antidote! it irreversibly opens sodium channels in nerve cells and stops them from closing, which paralyzes and leads to death. morbid stuff but very fascinating!

as for the venom in the quills? oh my god that is GENIUS. feather quills have hollow shafts, meaning there's also the potential to have them filled with toxin in case a feather breaks—that way if anyone breaks one in a fight they are getting a nasty (and incredibly painful) surprise, lol

i hope this unprompted ramble is alright-slash-permitted, i just woke up and am fueled by bird nerd knowledge to share some things that could be silly >:)

and as a bonus/goodbye i'd love to offer owl defensive posture

because they just look very silly to me

hope you have a great day/night/whatever :D i am always present if you need bird advice or info!!!

Hello!! Thank you for liking my silly design haha! I really gotta draw more for this AU sometime, I have some ideas for it and it's fun to draw. I got the idea for the quills because I wanted the dissasemblers to be able to stab people with their wings, you know, since the feathers are actual knives in canon. Besides, they're manticore inspired so it fits!

I don’t mind this message at all, in fact I really love birds myself and I remember reading about this poisonous one before! Birds are awesome, there's always a cool one out there you've never heard of before. My username actully have my favorite bird (and animal in general) In it, solroskajan means the sunflower jackdaw in swedish!

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scriptnoir · 27 days

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BITING THE HAND THAT CHOKES YOU.

renfro's a different kind of cruel. max hates that it's what she needs right now.

pairing. elizabeth renfro x max guevara/x5-452 (dark angel)

length. 4.5k

themes. smut, age gap, power dynamics, max's gay awakening somehow, renfro is fucked up

author's note. i regret nothing, you all can kiss my ASS!!!! (i do regret that i barely edited.) also first dark angel fic. please read, their height difference is doing things to my brain. also the obvious fucked up shit they got going on. also on ao3 if you care . . .

ao3

My name is Max.

That’s all Max could think. She was Max Guevara, nineteen years old. She worked as a bike messenger, delivery rider, whatever you called it, at Jam Pony. She had friends - OC, Herbal, Sketchy on a good day - and interests like any normal human being.

Manticore made it hard to remember that.

She stared into the distance, like she had practiced. It had been months of torture, frustration, fucking humiliation. Not everything was the same in this place but the memories swept back in that cruel way, washing over her, seizing her nerves and keeping her face in her hands.

The last time she was here, she was barely ten. Now she had returned - returned to the place she fought everyday to forget and fight.

If one day she were so lucky to die, she would remember this moment. She’d remember every horrible detail - scent, emotion, temperature - and be so very glad she was going.

Elizabeth Renfro checked her watch. “Code and report?”

As if the bitch would ever forget.

“X5-452, successful copulation, Ma’am!” she yelled.

My name is Max.

Her hair had gotten thinner and longer. The blue shirt fit her loosely now. For months she hadn’t seen the friends who thought she was dead - out there the gist was Manticore finally brought down their finest, Normal losing another employee (not that he’d care.) But whatever happened to her, she was still Max.

Renfro knew it, too. She wasn’t dumb - the small teen’s brown eyes remained strong and defiant. The only thing that wasn’t like her was everything else. The military responses, the staunch obedience . . . she had figured Max out a long time ago, and she wasn’t this.

The woman’s heels extended and forged a path around her. She knew how she was made: built yo sense everything and anything. So she was sure she felt her eyes on her, even with her back turned. Let her feel them. Wasn’t she used to it? No one could blame her. 452 was easy on the eyes. All of that genetic makeup created a slim girl with the littlest waist and bee-stung lips, all of which she would have found more delectable had she not spouted lies and lies and lies.

But she could forgive an ugly little sin from a pretty little girl.

Still.

“Don’t you get tired of pretending?” sighed Renfro. “You’ve been here a while. I don’t imagine it’s a lot of fun.”

Slow blurs of the black suit and platinum hair circled her. Max squirmed. No matter how far out she looked, the Bride of Satan remained and promised to bring her hell. She could hear her steely voice; the click of her heels; the vibration in her words. Max was prey counting her final minutes.

Her life flashed before her eyes. Coming into the real world, frightened and shivering in the snow. The only father she ever had prowling her new home. And - take the bad with the good: laughing with Original Cindy at the bar and pretending to her core that she didn’t feel anything about Logan. Even the pining she missed, and now it was her little coping mechanism.

Funny how she tried to avoid it.

Max didn’t reply. She looked straight into the wall of Renfro’s office, shoulders straight and jaw tight. They wanted a soldier? She’d give them one. This is what they trained her to be after all. The need for a weapon was the only reason she was here. So, she was going to stand emotionlessly and not say a single word. She had no feelings, no identity, nothing.

She couldn’t keep lying to herself when her heart thundered in her chest. Zack’s heart. The thought made her want to burst into tears. Suddenly Max’s throat felt jammed. God, she couldn’t do that here.

Renfro stopped in front of her. Finally. The dizziness was gone but she still felt like she was going to throw up. She sucked in her stomach and forced herself not to blink. There was only the wall and the picture frames to look at. Only the cold to feel. This was just an intrusive horror in her head she had to banish.

Renfro leaned down. “Is it, 452?” she asked softly.

If Max were dumb, she would have believed that her tone was gentle. For a moment, she almost appreciated the lines on her face; the flattering lower of her body so her words were clear. Max thought she saw someone who wasn’t so evil.

And then she saw Tinga bound in the water. She saw Zack barely hanging onto life. She saw how brainwashed the transgenics were here, believing their only purpose was to kill. Even Lydecker - the miserable fuck - was redeemable compared to Renfro. A kinder Madam X was a fantasy never coming to life.

Yet it was all so sudden when she tamed a strand of hair from the side of Max’s face and, carefully, back behind an all too red ear.

Max’s eyes widened. Her breath seemed to stop completely. She hadn’t been touched like that in months. Not that she ever was, platonically or romantically - she didn’t have parents and Mr. Eyes Only wasn’t willing to admit he liked her. Fucking coward. The last person she expected that from was the woman who killed and tortured her friends. The woman who would have done that to her too had she not been too important.

Renfro’s fingertips were smooth as they skated along Max’s jawline. With an upward tip of her chin, Max was forced to look at her. Wrinkles embedded the curves of Renfro’s face. Short, white hair propped against a neck Max yearned to see broken.

She was, however, beautiful. Maybe that’s why the men let her get away with so much. Renfro was beautiful, alright - but dangerous.

Max thought she heard that about herself somewhere, sometime.

“I asked you a question,” pressed Renfro.

Her eyes bore down on the younger girl. Max wanted to punch her. The bitch was enjoying this. She knew Max had gotten thinner, weaker, needier. She should have predicted she’d take advantage of that, like everything else.

The toughness in her voice was back yet her face - open and vulnerable - gave away everything.

“No, Ma’am.”

Renfro gripped her chin harder. She tried not to feel anything. That was usually easy. She was born to be a weapon. She was born to stand at command and play the gun she didn’t even want to hold.

“You’re still faking.”

The sound in Max’s throat barely managed to fold.

Renfro ghosted her mouth over her lips. “I don’t like that.”

But God-

Max’s teeth clenched. This was so wrong, this was so wrong. She wasn’t a girl who sought it out when a woman just perfectly older, perfectly meaner touched her just perfectly right. She wasn’t going to compromise her grudges for Renfro just because she suddenly broke character.

Shit, she might break character too. Max kept eye contact but her mind ran fast and hard about the thought of dropping the act. She could be a good girl. If she complied, she wouldn’t have to worry about the lack of food or sleep. The transgenic who looked too much like Ben wouldn’t haunt her dreams anymore.

That was what Renfro wanted her to think. She knew every little fantasy she’d written was simply that: a dream that would never come true.

“Or perhaps” - Renfro tilted Max’s head to the side, studying her like a germ under a microscope; she wasn’t two-faced enough to pretend that the girl was nothing if not a genetic mistake - “there’s other things you don’t like. Is 492 not doing it for you?”

“I am trained to fulfill my purpose regardless of my preferences.”

“I told you to drop the act, Max. It’s not flattering.”

Max blinked for the first time in minutes. Renfro had never called her that. She was a number among statistics to her. But the syllables curled in her mouth in such a sweet, poisonous way that a switch turned on.

And she could suddenly feel everything.

Renfro’s scheming stone-hard eyes on her. The wind filling the large sleeves of her shirt. The sweat on her forehead. The coldness in Renfro’s fingers tangled around her jawline that sparked some kind of feeling in her.

No no . . . And the worst part was she couldn’t blame it on her heat. It wasn’t due for a few more months, but the burning feeling was there. She needed something, somebody - and the only one here was Renfro.

She hardened her face. Over her dead body.

“You know what my theory is?” Renfro smirked, thin painted lip pulling to one side. Max’s legs trembled under the camouflage pants. “We ought to put a woman in that cell. Someone who can handle you. Someone who bites back. Maybe boys aren’t your thing, huh?”

Max abruptly forgot to play her role. Her eyes were large. “It’s- I’m not-”

“There must be a reason why you refuse to copulate with 494, all those false reports.”

For a woman so smart . . .

Max seized Renfro’s hand from her face and yanked it away. The engineered strength almost broke her wrist. She didn’t care. She needed her as far away as possible. She thought she was strong enough to chew what they dished out. The starving; the pain; the humiliation.

But it turned out she was just like the rest of the prisoners: desperate and deluded.

Disgust tasted bitter in her mouth. She couldn’t believe she was actually considering surrender. All for a head between her legs. This was the lowest she’d ever gone.

The reward for her outburst was the shock painting Renfro’s face. Dark eyeshadow framed the silent scream in those cruel eyes. Max could live off it forever.

“I think having to be a damn breeder’s dog is one.” She allowed a little squeeze on a fragile tendon. Just enough to hurt but not actually break it. “But that’s my own theory.”

She choked the captured limb tighter. She could change her mind, actually; let herself crush skin and bone and let bleed blood and bile. A fractured wrist wouldn’t equal to the torture she’d been through.

Her eyes scoured over Renfro - matter of fact, Max thought, she deserved a bruise for every little pain, every little tear she cried at night. One punch in the chin for daring to hold her like she was a child. A kick in the stomach for the emptiness in her own. A knife through her chest for keeping her brother alive through her in the worst way possible.

But she wasn’t like that.

Max swallowed a sob and let go.

“And you seem to forget,” she added, despite of. Her eyes roared with flames. One day this place would burn to the ground and she’d be holding the match. “I could still kill you, and you wouldn’t see it coming until the blood’s drawn.”

Renfro stared at her. Max wished she could see people’s brains clearly, too. Maybe she’d see the wheels churning in Renfro’s head. She would comfort herself with knowing the fear that raged in her permanently fucked up brain . . .

-lasted for approximately three seconds.

Renfro was laughing. No sarcasm or shortness in it. Loud, haughty, terrifying. This was the last time Max ever wanted to see her smile. She was beautiful, but the evil drowned that out. By the time the hysterics heightened in Renfro’s thundering voice, Max was convinced already: this was the stuff of nightmares.

She tried not to throw up. Renfro was a fucking sadist. Each life she ruined was another on her resumé. Every time Max made the slightest move of protest, her smile was unmistakable. The pleasure she got from being this evil was so twisted that Max felt the reality creep up to her:

She was alone.

Max slowly backed away. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t fight. No one was coming to rescue her. She never felt the need for anyone to do that but all she wanted now was a savior.

“See, that’s what I like about you, Max.” Renfro shook her head fondly. As her laughter died, her smile did, too. “Pretty thing, such a pretty thing - but sharp. Like a ribboned sword.”

Max was shaking. Her mouth was still agape. “You don’t get to say my name.”

“You’d rather you say mine, don’t you?”

“Son of a b-”

Renfro wove her fingers through the transgenic’s hair and pulled hard. It all happened too fast. It all happened before Max could run. The shock came before her logic and now she was whimpering, bound and tied. She could try and fight, sure, but there were cameras in here. There were soldiers outside that would overpower her with sheer belief that it was their purpose.

She couldn’t escape.

Maybe she didn’t want to.

Renfro’s lips brushed over the pillar of her neck. Her breath was warm and hot, and Max hated that she liked it that way. Liked the way the woman’s fingernails dug into her scalp. Liked the pain that made the tears rise up from the corners of her eyes. God, this wasn’t her. She couldn’t be.

Max closed her eyes as Renfro kissed her. Her tongue flattened behind her ear, then when she least expected it, Renfro bit down hard. Max flinched at how quickly she whined. She wasn’t supposed to like this.

“Shh,” Renfro whispered. When Max’s whining increased, she soothed a thumb along a blemishless cheek. “It’s alright. I’m simply conducting an experiment.”

Max’s voice failed to stop shaking. “A-An experiment to see if I wanna fuck you? Yeah, let’s see how that turns out.”

“Sure.”

Renfro slipped a hand under her shirt. The tight midriff tensed under her touch. Max was gasping for breath by the time it stopped creeping up her breasts and stayed over her waistband. As if to ask for permission.

Renfro smiled. “Let’s.”

Max’s head bowed as she drew in a bladed breath. She was frozen but her hips kept rolling down Renfro’s fingers. Suddenly everything about her was too sensitive. Goosebumps popped out from her skin. Her legs squirmed together, trapping Renfro’s hand. God knew the strong thighs prevented her from going anywhere. She was going to use that to her advantage. If Renfro was going to use her, she might as well do it, too.

“Mmm!” Max whined. She shook her head, refusing what her body told her to do. “No, mmm, no, please-”

She begged herself not to give in. She was smarter than that, wasn’t she? She said it aloud and pushed herself off Renfro but she kept coming back.

Max’s eyes squeezed up. Renfro was thumbing her covered clit so fast that her knees shuddered. She wanted to fight her off. She knew she could. But Jesus, was it too blissful to think of someone holding her down for once. Ordering her to do this and that. Making her beg.

She hated how Renfro was the first person to ever make her grovel.

“You sound really beautiful when you beg, Max,” Renfro said. The girl’s wetness transcended past the thin cloth of her underwear. She retrieved her hand and tasted her from her fingertips. “Shame you’re a little rebel.”

“You’re evil. God.”

Renfro smiled, continuing on as if she didn’t hear her: “Nothing I can’t fix.”

The cat in Max wanted to bare her teeth, claw at the woman and tell her to back off. Renfro grabbed her hair again, like an owner seizing the scruff of a kitten’s neck. The anger never melted off her face. Who did Renfro think she was?

“Down.”

Max, hating herself for trembling at the authoritarian tone Renfro used, stuttered, “What?”

“Down, sweetheart,” she repeated. Renfro tugged a little harder until Max was shoved into the side of the central desk. “On your knees.”

Max glowered. The little pout was strong but she slowly set a weak leg on the ground. Her thin brows arched with hatred at Renfro’s deepening smile.

Renfro, for one, liked how despite it all, Max maintained eye contact. She could handle the glare of a defenseless girl itching for the slightest touch. She slipped her knuckles through the night-dark hair and pulled her south.

“That’s it,” she coaxed. Massaging the aching scalp, Renfro’s sigh of satisfaction made Max want to beg again. “Good girl.”

Max gulped. She knew what to do. Her greedy hands tore at the button of those trousers. The fabric slid down Renfro’s surprisingly long and smooth legs. As if there wasn’t enough drool in her open mouth.

She got those panties out of the way and wasn’t disappointed. Knowing that Renfro, who tortured and imprisoned her, was wet from controlling her . . . she didn’t know if she should be revolted or turned on.

Her moral dilemma reached its deadline. Renfro grew impatient. She always did: waiting for Max to be desperate and finally fuck that soldier boy stud. Waiting on her reports. It didn’t help that those large brown eyes looked incredibly innocent, as if she didn’t know what to do. Or that her lips looked swollen and needy waiting for something to quench her thirst.

She wasn’t sorry for how hard she shoved Max’s skull into the table. She wasn’t sorry for pushing her cunt onto her mouth. Renfro had never felt apologetic in her life, and this wasn’t going to be the first time.

Max growled. Her tongue opened Renfro up and the juices spilled limitlessly. Renfro was sure she was going to lose it - those lips felt as good as they looked. Just the mere brush of them against her clit impulsed her to grind harder into the girl’s face. What more when they hollowed around and suckled?

“Would you look at that. I figured you swung the other way too.”

Renfro’s nails dug into her scalp. Max tried to breathe but the taste intoxicated her again. She kept coming back. She was starved for more and for nothing, burying her face into Renfro’s center as if to drain her. Each time she got a little taste of heaven.

But Renfro didn’t belong there.

“Oh there you go.” Each insult and praise got Max to eat her out harder. Renfro stroked thr girl’s hair, playing with a stubborn curl that withstood the test of time. “Just made for it, aren’t you? To get on your knees, have your pretty mouth between a woman’s legs?”

The sounds she made, Lord. Max tried not to like it. Why wasn’t it easy? “Shut up,” she gasped, “shut up God, just-”

“You’re smarter than that. You ought to know I can’t when you’re so good at giving me what I want.”

Max shoved three digits inside her and proved her right.

The hiss that came after would have been heavenly to her. Pity she didn’t hear it. Thighs that were stronger than she thought sealed around her and she was sure she was going to die. Renfro rode her messily, getting endless juices on her nose and cheeks. She could smell nothing but the musk that made her dizzyingly thirsty; touch nothing but surprisingly firm flesh; taste nothing but Renfro.

It was sick. She was sick.

And still her fingers kept curling. Her mouth kept working. Her eyes kept tracking Renfro’s orgasmic face. Her ears kept in tune to the sound of Renfro’s drumming heartbeat.

Bliss, yes - but there was pain everywhere. The back of Max’s neck dug into the desk wood. Renfro’s strong fingers maintained a tight hold on her hair. Her jaw ached to death. Hips rolled continuously on her face like waves. The tears filled her eyes as her breath was nowhere to be found.

Renfro released her. She collapsed against the desk, whimpering incessantly. Renfro couldn’t help the rise and tense of her shoulders. The girl knew how to eat pussy. And she had to admit that she looked pretty as she lay there fatigued. There was just the type of woman who was most beautiful with her lips wet and pouty from use. Max fit that category perfectly.

She lowered herself to the ground. Max’s hands shook with the need to wrap themselves around her neck, but she couldn’t do anything. Was she having a seizure? Sort of. Or was she meant to tremble this lightly but warm up this-

Fuck. No, it couldn’t be.

Max made a noise of protest. Renfro knew. She knew that the heat symptoms were bound to creep up on her. She could’ve had sex with anyone, God - anyone but her. Renfro was out of her damn mind.

So was she.

Renfro smiled. “Got nowhere to run do you?” she asked.

The piteous words knifed Max’s dignity and pride. It was all her fault. She hugged her legs up to her chest as the throb inside her worsened. She needed someone to touch her. She promised it didn’t have to be Renfro specifically but her body yearned to be pinned under her. She needed it rough, the kind that would make her forget this ever happened.

“It’s alright,” Renfro said. Her fingers glided along Max’s thigh. “You put up a good fight. But in the end, you just needed to be touched.”

“You’re an evil person. Fuck you.” Max cried tears that mixed with sweat and slick as she came to a realization. “No, just . . . please, fuck me please, fuck me-”

The look on Renfro’s face was the final straw. All that smugness and self-importance made Max lunge at her.

Her legs locked around her. Her fingers tensed under the crop of Renfro’s hair. She could have killed her at that moment. It would all be over. No one would know who broke her down. But the heat tingled in her skin. The throb in her core was too strong. Logan didn’t cross her mind at all when she leaned in and devoured Renfro’s lips.

God, she hated how good it felt. Renfro’s hands were all over her. Under her shirt; around her waist; between her legs - Max nearly came right there when Renfro forced her down on the desk. This was the exact kind of painful all the boy toys hated to do to her. Apparently she was too pretty or whatever. Too intimidating.

Max bit down on Renfro’s slim lip, a little reminder of what she could do. Maybe it was a reminder for herself, too.

She could taste blood. It was the most delicious thing she’d had in months.

Renfro hissed and pulled her off. Red drooled down her chin. She turned Max around and drove her face into the wood, squeezing up those perfect features and somehow making them imperfect. Max gasped for air.

“Shameless. Always trying to fight back, always trying to be trouble.”

Max didn’t realize her pants were off until she felt the sting on her ass. Her shrill cry only brought forth another unconstrained spank.

“When will you realize you can’t win, 452?” Renfro asked. She abused the soft flesh, hitting and tearing and squeezing, until Max’s throat burned from yelling. “No matter where you go, you’ll forever belong here, right at home.”

Max panted and sobbed. Her sweat made a puddle on the desk. Renfro’s monotone words rang true in her head. She barely fit in the real world. It was simply not made to be her home. She was manufactured to wage war against it until a bullet made her a flowerless corpse. Only then would it be her home: an unmarked spot in the earth.

Max sniffled. Here was her home in Renfro’s office, where they kissed and bit each other until they felt alive for once. This was forever unless she took a stand.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t try,” she whispered.

Her scream betrayed her promises once Renfro entered her. Four fingers swiftly moved into her, not giving her time to accommodate them. Renfro spared no mercy at all. She had Max crying and arching with just the curl of her wrist. She owned this girl, like she did so many others.

While her right was stone heavy on the transgenic’s back, her other hand was wet and working, drenched in Max and Max only. Max’s quivering pussy was as tight as the rest of her. It was so easy to enjoy breaking her. She got to feel the delicious wetness of her cunt; watch the struggle of her wide hips as they thrashed and fought; hear every raw scream echo knowing they would never haunt her.

“You maniac, fuck, I need-” Max was in heaven while being in hell simultaneously. Renfro knew how to do it perfectly, curving her fingertips right where she liked it and dragging her digits along her walls. “Harder. Almost there.”

“Bet you are,” Renfro hummed along her neck. She eyed the barcode, barely hidden through the mass of black hair - the thing that made her Manticore. Renfro watched it glisten with sweat, watched it distort as Max threw her head back.

But even she didn’t anticipate her teeth sinking into it.

That was when Max screamed. Renfro’s lips caressed her skin as if to comfort her, yet nothing could take away the pain spreading through her skin. Max was sure it wasn’t supposed to feel good either. She tried to tell herself it must be the fingers flicking at her clit or the steady thrusting, but Renfro bit harder and she began to beg again - something she swore to never do.

Max reeled as she saw white. Her shaking body sent mixed signals, moving away unsuccessfully from Renfro’s touch while whining something like please don’t stop, I’ll be so good just please don’t stop.

And Renfro, for the first time, listened to her. She kissed and touched Max like it was a different setting where the younger girl was just a curious explorer and she helped her out. She gave it to her as hard as she wanted and didn’t want it to be. She lightened her nibble on the seared flesh and breathed her scent in, eyes closed. Max always smelled like petrichor, like she’d been in a storm without a raincoat, and it fit with how she covered her hand with her blissful rain. She liked that. It could’ve been like that.

She ultimately decided she didn’t want it to be. She liked how Max was now. Poor, tiny, vengeful Max pinned under her and submitting to how good she made her feel. Max whose sweat and blood she could taste on the tip of her tongue. Max who whimpered powerlessly when she kept fingering her, whose walls spasmed and shivered as she beckoned out the fight left in her.

Max who shivered when she said “good girl” and kissed on those pillow lips.

The symptoms didn’t take long before leaving. The horror quickly kicked in. She felt the imprint of Renfro’s teeth on her neck with shaking fingers. She didn’t have to reach down to confirm the mess she made.

She whipped around, ready to destroy Renfro like she had destroyed her. But it was too late. She realized every strength she nurtured would fail her when it came to hesitation. She was still human after all. Max Guevara would still die if Renfro chose to use the gun pressed hard into her forehead.

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wolf-among-mechs · 5 months

Text

Why on earth does battletech think vehicle cranes were invented in like 2100 ish?

???

Anyway I have a bunch of tros for military style trucks (hemtt? Is that the abbreviation I always say hemmett so whatever) along with megamek sprites for a flatbed, an unloaded, carrying a container, infantry truck, medical truck, crane cargo truck, power generator and tanker. I have also made an armoured engineering vehicle based on the leopard 2 (or maybe I used the old vedette sprite or a manticore to make it look like a tank I don't remember) but it has a dozer blade and crane and can take an ac20 in the face and live to tell the tale. Generally these are for salvaging stuff in hot areas, expected to get shot at. If you're not getting shot I'm also making some wheel loaders and a bulldozer. Invaluable field equipment. The may based on caterpillars but its synonymous with these kinds of vehicles.

So you might be asking. "Hey you, aren't barely armoured vehicles with no weapons kindof.. you know pointless in megamek?" Well yes. Kindof. But if you want to what to get your periphery vibes on and bolt machine guns and an srm to a bulldozer I can do that while I'm at it. But more importantly, they are good for special narrative campaign mission objective. A thing I regularly do for my own groups and are currently working on to offer to tumblr here based for some big stomp tabletopping (though megamek mostly probably) fun times. It's gonna be a while though. Like a month or two minimum. Life is busy.

But anyway I do also have a few cobbles together sprites of civilian trucks and their tros. Again, good for objectives.

Would anyone be interested in a lil pack of these to drop into megamek? It will probably require the new development version because you can save sprites to stuff there (or supposed to be) so you don't have to fiddle with extra stuff under the bonnet of the entire thing.

#battletech #mechwarrior #ooc posting

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lizard-shifter-noms · 3 months

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Still Subject to Change Chapter 21 (NEW)

——————————————————————————-

Hello everyone! i decided to repost arc 1 of SSTC

(the chapters were way too long and had a bunch of typos but hopefully this will make reading easier)

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

if there are still any grammatical errors i’m sorry.

——————————————————————————

The armored man sighed and then turned to me.

“Do you want to join too?

Might be good to have someone big on the team”

It was nice that he had said someONE and not someTHING i gave him that, but for now I went over to Neas’ group before bending down so that Robin could climb off of me.

I would not drag the little ginger with me, and I better tell him to stay away too.

So i turned to the little rusthead, and Arthur too who was standing next to him.

“I think it might be better if you stay away a bit, we have no idea what’s on the other side of the wall and I don’t want you to get hurt.

So please backtrack a bit? Just so I don’t have to worry and can focus on this okay?”

He nodded and Arthur put an arm around his shoulder like an older brother, squishing the smaller into his side.

“I’m going with him, in case there’s some other threat, also having someone to talk to might be nice”

I nodded thankfully at him and he dragged Robin away after the little redhead gave me a big hug.

Oakley also joined my group, still holding that weird magic item.

The item itself was spinning way faster around itself than in the castle.

So maybe that’s how you were supposed to tell if magic was near?

No matter, now we had to face whatever was causing this, and we didn’t even know what it was.

It could be a person or an animal, it could also be a cursed item or something unknown from deep underground that crawled out of the mines.

I really hoped it was not the last option.

No matter what it ended up being, I made myself ready to toss whatever it was into a wall like I had done to the manticore that attacked Arthur so long ago.

Huh, that really was almost a month ago now.

We stood ready behind the wall and Nea gave the sign to go around it.

I stayed back a little, if it was just an item I didn’t want to step on it, if it was an inexperienced magic user I didn’t want to scare them.

On the other side of the wall was neither, The only thing I saw was a person in a bright blue robe with his hood up that was holding a staff that looked like it was made from some twisted root with an ice blue gem at the top.

The Gem looked like the wood had grown around it and was emitting a weird light that almost seemed flaky in nature.

What the hell was going on here?

Before I could dwell on it I heard Norrin call out to the hooded man.

“Stop right where you are! You are under arrest!”

The figure turned to face his group and put down the hood of his robe, revealing a man that had a pale blue beard that matched his hair.

That was not a normal hair color and his skin was weirdly pale too, almost sickly and gray.

He also had no eyes, just a black void where they were supposed to be.

What the hell?

He opened his Mouth to speak and I could see two fangs sticking out, like a venomous snake.

“Ahh humans, pathetic creatures finally figured out who was causing the snow i see.

But you’re too late! I will not call off the spell, the payment I will get from killing the royal bloodline in this land is greater than anything you pathetic creatures could offer me!”

Wow what an asshole, and he said he was paid to do this? Who was cruel enough to do that? And why?

Suddenly Oakley was on my side, the one hidden from that man-thing.

“Vampire ice mage, stay away from it i’ll try to come up with a solution on what to do”

And as quickly as he had appeared he was gone again, ducked behind a wall and out of sight.

I really hoped he could figure something out, also i had always thought Vampires weren’t real so what was one doing here?

Apparently causing a fucking ice age, i was tempted to step up and smash this fucker into a wall but Oakley had said to stay away.

And at this point Norrin had demanded to know who sent the vampire.

“Who sent you to do this? Are you aware of all the innocent you are endangering? What do they even offer?

Besides, you succeeded already! The old king is dead! Pneumonia from the cold took his life a few days ago!”

The ice mage didn’t seem convinced by this and instead sent a blast of ice towards Norrins group.

They all managed to dodge it but I realized why exactly Oakley had told me to stay away, not from the vampire but the staff.

That thing could turn me into an ice cube in seconds.

The vampire aimed his staff again, and blasted a hole through the wall.

I was now very glad I had told Robin and Arthur to go hide a bit further away.

But now the guy was starting to just blast randomly at everything that moved and everyone had to dodge the chaotic array of ice blasts and who knew what else that staff did.

“The King? Dead? HAH!

If he was dead then the public would have been informed already!

The royals always do that! So the people in their domain know they have to grieve!

I do not believe you! Get out of hiding and fight like a man!”

A Rock hit the side of his face coming from behind one of the walls.

There was also a loud shout of someone familiar.

“I’M NOT A MAN YA WRETCHED SONOVABITCH!”

Nea had to dodge the resulting blast from the staff for this one, and only barely missed it.

Then there was a second blast, and another, Nea must have pissed him off big time.

She managed to dodge it each time until her coat snagged on a branch.

For a few seconds I feared I would see her die as the vampire sent of another blast.

Only for it to be deflected by the shiny inner side of a thrown helmet So that it only grazed her foot.

Just being grazed was apparently already enough to do a big amount of damage as she howled in pain and clutched her foot with a pained hiss.

The vampire held up its staff triumphantly.

“This is the best you have? A woman that throws rocks? I had really believed the royal guard to be better than this!”

From the sidelines Nea hissed at him.

“We are just humans! We don’t have this fancy bullshit ya do! If ya want a fair fight, set that staff aside and we duke it out with our fists!”

God Nea, please stop making this worse!

She couldn’t really think that would work did she?

Besides, her foot was injured, she couldn’t win like that.

“Duke it out? HAH! While you might believe that it would be an equal fight, I have to disagree! You humans might think that you are so high and mighty that you don’t even realize how weak you actually are!

You and your kin might think that you are the greatest but I beg to differ-!”

Before he could finish his rant metal spikes jutted out from his chest, effectively silencing him and he stared at it in shock, the staff dropping from his hands and clattering to the floor.

Ducking out from under the wall I saw Oakley standing behind the mage, one foot held against his back and I realized that he had impaled the Vampire using some sort of weird gauntlet that made the claws on his birdlike feet longer.

The puncture wounds almost formed a perfect circle even, and I noticed that while the Vampire grasped for breath he wasn’t actually bleeding.

Could Vampires bleed? I didn’t even know they actually existed before today, also it sure looked painful.

Oakley himself leaned forward to be next to the guy’s ear, baring his teeth, not in a smile but to show off his fangs in a snarl.

And then he quietly hissed at the mage in a tone colder than the entire environment.

“Then Beg”

Oakley yanked and the sharp spikes vanished from the chest of the Vampire as it fell limply to the ground with a dull thud.

I could also see Oakley holding something pale that had a purplish red liquid on it.

He had ripped the Vampires spine out, or at least part of it and was still holding it in his weird claw knife contraption.

At this point I was glad I didn’t need to eat as I was sure I would have vomited otherwise.

He then picked up the magical staff that had fallen to the floor and examined it before tapping it twice on the ground gem first.

It had already gotten noticeably warmer since the ice mage died but whatever Oakley was doing with it now accelerated it and I could see the snow melting around me.

Oakley was ignored for the moment as everyone came out from cover and made sure that the entire division survived and nobody aside from Nea got hit with an ice blast.

I could see some Guards immediately rushing to get to Nea who insisted she was fine.

She was not fine, her foot looked like it had been dipped in a swamp and left to rot, I hoped that was fixable.

I turned away from the woman that already had way too many people looking after her to find Rikaad.

I hadn’t seen him since the mage had randomly shot ice blasts around so I was very worried.

It took me a few seconds to spot the armorless man standing on a small rock and I immediately went over to him, momentarily forgetting that I didn’t have hands at the moment and was way too big as I tried to go in for a hug.

I remembered a few seconds later that I wasn’t bipedal right now but I couldn’t stop, the muddy ground made me slide the rest of the way and I ended up softly headbutting the poor human.

He took it in stride, I gave him that, by patting my ear and smiling softly.

He didn’t even lose balance on his little boulder.

“I’m also glad that you are alright, god knows Robin would never have stopped crying”

I just huffed, Rikaad was alright that was all that mattered right now.

Even if his jokes were awful, his sense of humor was very, Well, not there really.

As for everyone else, well except Nea, nobody got injured as far as i knew.

Rikaad tapped at my leg and pointed over to Oakley who was sitting on a broken wall, still messing with the magic staff.

“What do you think he’s doing? I do not want him to somehow blow himself up with it”

A valid concern when looking at how Oakley handled the thing, he was even twirling it in his fingers like parade staff.

Yeah that didn’t look safe at all, we better interrupt that.

“Maybe we should just ask? He can’t continue to mishandle the thing if he’s talking to someone right?”

Rikaad nodded and went over to the winged madman and I slowly followed him over the muddy ground.

About not even halfway to Oakley we were joined by Norrin who immediately started fretting over Rikaad.

He sometimes acted as if the black haired human wasn’t perfectly capable of handling himself.

“Sire? Are you alright? When we lost sight of you I got immensely worried! Do you need any help? Medical supplies? A-”

His worried rambling was cut off by Rikaad himself.

“I am fine, thank you for asking, but i would like to speak to Oakley now, i have some questions for him”

“Ah, of course sir”

Norrin stepped out of the way as fast as he could without tripping.

I didn’t know what to think of the man.

On one hand he was the royal headguard, not a title that was easily achievable, on the other hand he acted like a worried uncle that had lost the kid they were supposed to babysit.

He was well meaning enough, even if he had a stick up his ass, though he was probably just following some protocol.

The worry in his voice was very real though, and I could tell he tried his best.

Turning to look at Oakley I saw that he was still manhandling the staff by testing out how much the wood could bend.

That mad fucker!

“Oakley! What the fuck? Stop!

That thing is gonna explode or something!”

He turned to face us after I spoke.

“Hmm? No this isn’t gonna explode don’t worry!

It’s more likely to implode really”

As if that was any better at all, and what the fuck did implode even mean?

“But really, I know what I’m doing! Don’t worry!

I’m just inspecting how well made the staff is, Besides, as long as nothing happens to the gem it will be fine!”

As if to prove his words he twirled the staff around with his two pronged tail and then held the end with the gem over a little puddle of melted snow, freezing it instantly.

“I might not have an affinity for ice magic but I know how to use a magic staff, if anything I should be worried about anyone else getting their hands on this! Who knows what would happen!

If the gem explodes then you have an even worse problem than before!”

Even worse? Oh man, this cold had already been near unbearable, I didn’t dare imagine what could be even worse.

Rikaad stared at the staff intently for a few seconds before speaking.

“If it is that dangerous, where do you suggest it should be kept?

I do not want some thief to send us into an eternal winter”

Oakley cocked his head in that eerie birdlike manner.

“I think i’ll just hide it with my other stuff, nobody ever found that, nobody can unless they are me as there are various magic wards in place that only allow me passage”

Of course he would have something like that, why the hell not, but if it really was that good of a hiding place then why was the bracelet stolen?

Or the trinket wasn’t in that stash in the first place seeing as Oakley thought anyone using it would just die.

Well the thief did die, a few hundred miles away from his shack and I ended up finding it.

What a weird world we were living in.

Rikaad just nodded to Oakleys words, and the winged man was right, if it was kept in the castle someone WOULD steal it, That was only a matter of time.

“If you are sure you can keep it safe then go ahead, but please stop manhandling it in front of everyone, they are nervous enough as it is after all of this”

Oakley nodded and stopped messing with the staff, switching to hold it securely in his tail instead.

He hopped down from the broken wall he had sat on and landed on one leg.

Looking down as to why he did that and making sure he wasn’t injured I could see he was still wearing the knife glove thing.

He was also still holding the vampire’s spine and it took everything in me not to dry heave at the sight.

Instead my pouch started itching again now that the adrenaline from the fight had subsided and I decided to simply look away from him.

Instead I found myself looking at the rest of the Vampire’s corpse.

I turned my head around so fast that I could have sworn I heard my neck make a cracking noise.

The sight of the lifeless pale body lying face down on the ground with a horrible hole torn into the back that leaked the purplish red liquid would haunt me in my nightmares I was sure.

It really did look like Oakley had shredded everything around the pieces of bone he had ripped out, and I quickly excused myself to dry heave behind a wall where no one could see.

Yeah, I was really glad I didn’t eat, anymore at least, but the dry heaving upset my pouch and it hurt an awful lot.

I hoped I hadn’t ripped any stitches as repairing that would be impossible, especially with all the people that were in and around the castle.

I sat down where I was, leaving the guards and everyone else to sort themselves out, I would just patiently wait until moving wasn’t irritating my pouch so much.

Despite living on the streets i had only ever seen a total of two corpses, My own Mother after she passed from disease, And the man that got thrown into the crab tank,

who then was fished out again days later as a skeleton with only some pieces of cloth and meat on it.

But none of them had looked as horrible as the dead Vampire, Oakley was thorough in killing the thing I gave him that.

But i still wished i hadn’t seen that, that would haunt me for sure.

At the sound of footsteps from behind me I turned to look at who was approaching me.

I had expected Rikaad or maybe even that Arthur and Robin had come looking for all of us, but I had not expected that it was Norrin.

The royal head guard had some mud on his armor and his hair had come loose from the bun he’d made, but he looked concerned at me, not caring about being caked in dirt from dodging the ice blasts.

“Are you alright? I saw you vanish behind a wall pretty quickly after you spoke with the winged man”

How was I supposed to answer that? After seeing a torn apart corpse of something that should not exist, at least anymore, I was definitely not okay.

I suppressed another wave of nausea at the memory.

“I’m- Oakley- he just, fuck, i never want to see a spine outside of a body ever again”

“First time seeing a dead body?”

I shook my head at his question.

“Technically third, but this is definitely the worst”

He walked over to me and stared me right in the face, his light indigo blue eyes a bit too close.

“I’m not going to tell you that seeing dead bodies gets any better, you just get more desensitized and numb to such stuff.

I’ll be honest, if someone wasn’t having a bad reaction to seeing that up close I’d be more worried than if the person was just sneaking off to throw up behind a wall.

I wasn’t sure what to think about you when I first saw you standing behind the new king, but now i think you are even more human than some of the other people i met, even if you are big, green and furry.

Though why the fuck are you green? you’re not a plant, … right?”

I had to laugh a bit at the last part, technically no, i was not a plant but i could draw energy from sunlight like one, and it was nice hearing him tell me that while he had no idea what to think of me at first wasn’t opposed to try and help me when he saw that i wasn’t so well.

“No i’m not a plant, but i can use sunlight as energy like one”

He looked surprised for a second and then smiled.

“Well that is going to save you a lot of money i guess, Do you feel a bit better now? I think we should all head back.

No doubt there’s going to be some celebration about the weird magic winter ending and i’d like to wash the mud off first”

He scratched a bit of the dried mud off that caked one of his arm plates and shook the resulting dust off.

I had to sneeze as some of it got into my nose.

“ACHOO”

Norrin had ducked down and covered his ears at the noise but stood back up again after he was sure I wouldn’t sneeze a second time.

“Hell, i think my eardrums popped”

I used a paw to rub at my twitching nose that still tingled a bit.

The sneeze had made my organs squish into each other and now my pouch was aching a bit.

I must have pulled some of the stitches a bit somehow, whatever, that would subside with time.

“Sorry, but i think i’m alright now, let’s go back im sick of this mud”

I stood back up and followed Norrin back to the group.

When not in the presence of Rikaad he was a pretty alright guy, Seemed that he only acted like he had a stick up his ass when a higher ranking person was around.

In the background I could see Nea loudly complaining and demanding someone give her the helmet back.

Norrin saw it also and looked at me.

“Never cross her the wrong way, she can and will end you, I just wish she wasn’t the most difficult person in the division”

The last part did sound like he had dealt with a lot already regarding her, and after what happened today and the courage she’s shown I did not doubt that she was very capable of fighting.

Or just running blindly into danger, after the drake story, who i still wasn’t sure if i believed it, that might just be what she always does.

Norrin went over to her regardless and picked the now deformed helmet from the ground where it had landed after it deflected the ice.

As soon as the armor piece was handed to her she hit him with it loudly stating that she did not need to be carried back along with a string of curses i had never heard before and was not going to repeat.

“I don’t need ta be carried like some dumb Damsel in distress! Just gimme something I can use as a crutch! I’ll be fine! Stop fussing over me ya wanker!”

She was not fine, her foot still looked like her shoe had rotted onto it and I doubted she’d make it far even with crutches.

I had to admit that I was impressed though, not by her hitting Norrin with the helmet but for the fact that she didn’t shed a single tear.

I was pretty sure if that had happened to me I would be screaming and crying in panic, which probably would just make it worse.

Nea however was just hitting people with her deformed helmet and hissing at them that she didn’t need to be carried back and plainly refused help all together.

Suddenly Rikaad was back at my side, he was a very silent walker and I hadn’t noticed him till now, and I barely kept myself from flinching.

“Are you okay? You left pretty quickly back there, what happened?”

Right, he was focused on Oakley and probably hadn’t paid the corpse any attention.

“I saw the dead ice mage vampire up close, let me tell you i’m glad that i don’t eat anymore, but dry heaving is just as bad to be honest”

“The corpse? Ah yes i avoided looking at it and focused on Oakelys face instead, but i think he took the part he ripped out with him”

Great, what would anyone need that for? A trophy maybe? Or even more magic fuckery.

I absentmindedly scratched over my pouch using my claws, Rikaad of course immediately noticed.

“How is… well your body attempted to vomit so not great i imagine”

His voice was tinted with guilt, and I could see one of his eyebrows twitch.

I knew he was talking about my pouch, he probably just didn’t say it out loud because there were other people present that could overhear.

Even if all the focus was on Nea right now who currently threatened to break someone’s knees.

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#sstc #lizards writing #vore story #giant/tiny #g/t story #nsx vore

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