#salt ocs

[seasaltandcopper]

"You don't know when to quit, do you?"

[saltciphblr]

I removed my old pin because god it's so out of date. I'll make a new one one day, but hi I'm salt :)

31 y/o They/Them, student in STEM, YouTuber, tea lover, Actor

Ive done a lot of minecraft roleplay on twitch

Art Tag

Voice Acting Tag

Here's the old post if you were looking for my DCA stuff, but generally left the fandom! I'm more into sonic, lmk and tadc now.

I plan to share silly stuff and lots of art so hopefully you'll stick around :) asks are always welcome.

[saltsealed]

oc portraits for the alberta group!

Durzin - InstantCoyote || Mal - @saltsealed || Nate - @lookbluesoup || Ella - @scorpio-skies || Kay - @nukaworld-nora

[rottingrootsarts]

My Salt Babies as Mermaids! Mkale and Layla are so pretty and so much fun to draw

[seasaltandcopper]

sometimes space piracy isn't all it's cracked up to be. sometimes you and your girl both get stabbed by bounty hunters and have to patch each other up in the medbay before either of you bleeds out

and after all that, someone still has to fix the ship :/

lyra belongs to @calico-heart

[seasaltandcopper]

Summary: Backstory snippet, the first time Mal admits to Jericho that he loves him. Mild angst but mostly just character building/dynamics

AU: Vampire | Masterlist

Rating: M

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive/sexual banter, unhealthy relationship dynamics but nothing outright abusive is shown at this point

—————————————————

I love you.

It wasn’t exactly a revelation to Mal. It sure as hell wasn’t the first time he’d thought it.

But it was his first to admit it, out loud, to Jericho’s face.

The tips of Mal’s ears went redder than his hair. Then his cheeks. The back of his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his t-shirt and the new leather jacket Jericho had bought him last month. Grinning like an idiot, Mal laughed, kicking out a foot to knock his boot against Jericho’s leg. Both of them were sprawled together on the hood of Mal’s car, listening to the radio and watching the stars.

“Can’t believe you—god.” Mal laughed again, chancing a look over at his partner. “You fucking made me fall in love with you. Asshole.”

Jericho barked a laugh. Sharp and light at the same time. He rolled closer though, wrapping an arm around Mal and tugging them together, face to face. “I mean, Mal, c’mon—have you seen me? Who wouldn’t.” A snicker.

“Jesus Christ.” Mal rolled his eyes and shoved Jericho, not quite able to stifle another laugh. Not that he’d actually be able to push Jericho away if he had a mind to stay. Not that Mal wanted to in the first place. “You are such a dick.”

“Oh, you wanna talk about my dick now?”

Another laugh. “Fuck you.”

“Alright, lover-boy, let’s go,” Jericho teased, eyes shining with amusement and a fondness Mal could only read as reciprocation. Jericho hadn’t actually said the words back, but even through the vague sense of disappointment, Mal hadn’t really expected him to. He just tried not to let it hurt; didn’t take it personally.

Being with Jericho wasn’t exactly a fairy tale romance. Sometimes it felt more like a roller coaster ride—all highs and lows and blood and adrenaline. Jericho was a vampire. An immortal. There weren’t scripts for these kinds of things.

[seasaltandcopper]

♠ Leaving them at the mercy of strangers in a public display (stocks, pillory, cage, chained to something, etc) for your vamp series!

-Lonesome

Set years before the start of the series, during Mal’s first week with the hunters. This swerved a bit off prompt, but I had fun lol

hopefully this is the series you meant. it's the one i mentioned in the tags when i reblogged the prompts, but I know I inconveniently have like three vamp-centric ones, so apologies if it's not

Vampire Hunter AU

Edit: this prompt now has a continuation here

Rating: mature

Warnings: torture, captivity, dehumanization, non-sexual nudity, stress positions, profanity, burns, implied (future) whipping, vampire whumpee, multiple whumpers

They strung Mal up by his wrists in the middle of the room, which was, if nothing else, a change of scenery. After spending who knew how long cramped in a pitch-black cell with nothing but his own thoughts keeping him company, this almost felt like an improvement.

Almost.

Mal tried to think positive. Instead of kneeling, bent double on a brick floor until his legs screamed in agony and the muscles in his neck and back cramped and seized, he got to hang, balancing on his toes so he didn’t dislocate his fucking shoulders, and enjoy a whole different set of muscles cramping up instead.

Variety—the spice of life.

Mal shifted restlessly, fighting a losing battle to ease some of the strain on his shoulders. An ache built in the joints, fiery knots that ratcheted tighter and tighter each time he let his arms take his full weight. A muscle in the back of his calf twinged.

Mal breathed. In and out, bare chest rising and falling, pale skin ashy under the stark fluorescents. Being so…exposed in front of a crowd also stirred up a nervous, squirming kind of shame Mal unsuccessfully tried to ignore.

Realistically, he knew a few flimsy scraps of cloth wouldn’t protect him from this; being tortured would suck whether he was naked or not. It was just one more attempt to humiliate him, to reinforce his “place” as something subhuman, that quickly chipped away at his remaining pride.

Across the room, one of the hunters grinned, tapped his buddy on the arm, and nodded Mal’s direction.

Great.

For the first ten minutes or so after hanging Mal up like a piñata, they’d just watched, joking crudely and laughing amongst themselves. Too many sets of eyes sizing Mal up, like a piece of meat.

Or sharks smelling blood in the water.

Now, it looked like they were finally ready to play.

Slowly, the hunter prowled closer. He pulled a small, folding knife from his pocket. As far as blades went, it was pretty tame. Something meant for trimming twine or nails—only a couple inches long.

Smirking, he held it up for Mal to see. Waved it slowly back forth so dramatically that Mal finally rolled his eyes at the display.

The hunter stopped and arched his brow, taunting, “Think that’s funny, leech?”

“Of course not,” Mal said, dryly. “You and that nail file are terrifying. Really.”

Egging them on was stupid; Mal knew it was stupid. And for the most part he’d bitten back the snark and profanity and played it smart. He watched. Listened. Looked for opportunities, openings, any weakness he could exploit.

But every now and then Mal’s mouth still got the better of him.

The hunter snorted. Glanced at the pocket knife and made a show of looking it over before shrugging and folding it closed.

“Yeah,” he conceded, mildly. “Never was a big fan of knives, anyhow. Not for this shit.” The man waved a dismissive hand, and turned back to the gaggle of hunters. “Hey, Niall, pass me the No. 3 Braided?”

A couple of the hunters laughed. One of the women whistled. Another scoffed, the sound almost lost to a louder protest of, “What happened to starting small?”, that kicked off another round of jeers and abrasive laughter.

Unease prickled like sweat on the nape of Mal’s neck. He swallowed, fidgeting and letting his gaze drift from the hunter to the crowd behind him. The other man, Niall, strolled forward a moment later, a length of something heavy and black coiled in his hand.

A whip. That was a fucking whip.

Niall passed it over and retreated back to the sidelines to watch. Tension settled over the room. Anticipation.

Given the floor again, the hunter hefted the tool, then tilted it to give Mal a better look. Against his better judgment, Mal did. Something in the pit of his stomach tied itself in queasy knots.

“This here is one of my favorite correctional tools in our kit. Sleek, got a bit of weight to it, feels real good in your hand.” He unlooped a single coil, letting the tip dangle. “Comparable to your standard bullwhip—little shorter, because we’re not driving cattle with it. But the craftsmanship is what really sets this thing apart. You got your standard woven leather cording, but then see that there…?”

He dragged a finger down the length, angling the whip again so it caught the overhead light. Dull shine Mal first mistook for well-oiled leather came into terrifying clarity, all at once.

Oh, god…

“Silver thread,” the hunter confirmed, enjoying the dawning horror settling over his captive audience. “All braided in with the leather, can barely even see them. But when it hits one of your kind—” Casually, the hunter pressed the whip to Mal’s stomach, just above his navel. “It adds a little extra zing to your swing.”

The reaction was immediate.

Pain sizzled across Mal’s skin as the interwoven silver burned on contact. He hissed through his teeth, and tried unsuccessfully to flinch away. Bare feet skimmed the concrete, yanking hard against the shackles anchoring his legs to the floor, a precaution to keep him from kicking.

Smart. Because without it, the asshole in front of him would’ve already been dead.

Grinning, the hunter held the silver-braided loop there for a few more seconds, watching his captive squirm. When he finally relented, a bright red line of blistered flesh marred Mal’s belly, like he’d carelessly leaned against a hot stove.

Shit.

Mal was breathing hard, now. Shaking, from more than just the strain of the position. Fear—real fear—danced around the edges of his consciousness.

Anger, too. Bone-deep, stubborn defiance Mal sometimes swore he’d been born with. It’d kept him going this long. Helped him weather things that were, theoretically, scarier than a ragtag group of human bullies.

In reality, he’d never faced anything like this before.

Ears ringing, Mal stared the hunter down, fangs bared in a snarl.

Face darkened with cruel glee, the hunter leaned in close. Just shy of Mal’s biting range, but enough the heat of his breath puffed against Mal’s skin, like he was sharing a secret between the two of them.

“Most of them scream by three.” The muffled thwick of leather hitting the floor echoed in Mal’s ears. “But I bet you’ll make it to five.”

Tag list: @whumpsday @writereleaserepeat @thecyrulik @lookbluesoup

[seasaltandcopper]

Summary: Teddy is a former thrall turned vampire hunter. After a decade of chasing her revenge, she gets wind of a group of Hunters keeping an all-too-familiar monster in their custody. Now finally, after ten years waiting, maybe she'll finally get some answers.

And much needed payback.

Pt 2 | Vampire Hunter AU

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Profanity, non-graphic mentions of torture, violence, imprisonment, starvation, dehumanization, 'it' as a pronoun (only used by one character), referenced past captivity and enthrallment

Teddy left Will to watch the truck while she made the journey into the compound alone to pick up the vampire. He seemed to understand, and didn’t argue or ask why. Just turned up the radio, and leaned back the passenger’s seat to nap until she showed back up to drive them home.

The Hunter Teddy had talked with on the phone—Brooks—led her on a meandering path through the repurposed factory. Past living and dining areas where many Hunters gathered in their off hours, and past the armory in the factory’s basement.

Down, again, to a sub basement that reeked of must and rot and worse. Long used to it, Teddy simply studied the layout, mapping her path back out to the surface, a habit ingrained after years of training in a place not that different from this one.

Brooks led them to what looked like an old walk-in industrial kiln, now fit and reinforced to work as a containment cell. The box was covered in locks and seals, both magical and mundane, layered intricately with each other in a masterful weave.

Brooks glanced over his shoulder as he worked to unlock the cage. “So uh, if you don’t mind me asking, why this one?” He shrugged, clearly asking out of boredom or mild curiosity. “We don’t get many transfer requests out here.”

“Got a score to settle with it.”

Teddy didn’t elaborate, but Brooks didn’t push. The man just nodded, clearly accepting that as answer enough. “Fair enough. Still one less leech I gotta keep tabs on.”

The final lock released with a dull clack, and the Hunter trailed a hand over the wards. They shimmered, pulsing a deep crimson before fading again. Reaching for the handle, Brooks paused long enough to glance at Teddy.

“It shouldn’t give you much trouble, long as you keep it restrained. It’s been here long enough it knows how this shit works by now. We’ve mostly been using it for training and educating new recruits. Put up a hell of a fight when we first processed it though.” Brooks shot Teddy a conspiratorial grin. “I mean, damn. Should’ve seen that motherfucker in the first couple weeks. Had the whole crew taking bets on how long it’d take to finally break it.”

Teddy’s face stayed emotionless, though her eyes flicked to meet the Hunter’s. “How long did it take?”

“Four months, one week, and three days is when Nadia officially called it but—” Shrugging, Brooks gave the door handle a firm yank. The heavy metal groaned, a deep metallic wail like a thing in pain, and swung open to reveal a box of pale firebrick. The creature lay chained on the floor inside. “—between you and me, I don’t think it has yet. You can see it in its eyes. The way it looks at you sometimes.” He shook his head. “Nah. Might be too weak to fight, and smart enough to mind its manners, but there’s a spark of something still in there. Don’t give that motherfucker an inch, unless you’re prepared for it to take it.”

Teddy stayed quiet long enough the Hunter just shrugged again and led them into the tiny room. He strolled inside, aiming a heavy kick at the creature lying curled up on the floor. The vampire grunted, chains rattling with the impact.

“Alright leech, up. You got a visitor.”

Slowly, the vampire moved to comply, pushing himself stiffly up and settling into a kneeling position, bound hands resting on his thighs. He didn’t look up or move beyond the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed air Teddy knew for a fact he didn’t need.

Inclining his head, Brooks stepped aside to let Teddy take the floor.

She’d waited for this moment for over ten years. Before she’d even known she was waiting for it, before she’d been able to hope this kind of reversal could be possible for a vampire’s thrall.

Now that she was here, standing in the room with one of her former masters—one of the keystone pillars of Jericho’s coven, his bloody right hand, his former lover, one of only a handful left that had still been unaccounted for, and the only one left alive who could tell her what she wanted to know.

Teddy still couldn’t believe it was real.

This was a victory. Retribution a decade in the making. Closure.

She drew in a breath. Then stepped forward, heavy black boots thudding hollowly on the bricks. The vampire stayed quiet as she approached, kneeling and hunched forward like just keeping himself upright was a monumental effort. He stared at the filthy floor in front of his knees without acknowledging either of the two humans in the room.

If she hadn’t gotten confirmation of his identity beforehand, Teddy wasn’t sure she would’ve recognized him. Naked, emaciated, filthy, muzzled, bound in iron manacles and so covered in marks of abuse it was a challenge to find an untouched patch of skin. Even the color of his hair was impossible to judge from the matted, shoulder length mess it’d become.

Teddy held her breath. Silence followed. The kind of heavy, pressing quiet, like watching lightning flicker on the horizon before hearing the thunder. A static charge to the air.

She let out the breath in a rush, heart hammering in her chest. Desperate. Frantic. Hopeful.

Furious.

“Mal.” His name dropped from her lips like a condemnation, and that got his attention. He slowly lifted his head, meeting her gaze through a tangled curtain of hair with wary confusion. “Today’s your lucky day, bloodsucker. You’re coming home with me.”

AN: So this is apparently the second time I independently had more or less the same idea. Teddy (and Will) end up in a kind of antagonist role with Mal, and the story progresses as a back and forth between both these povs as they navigate this reversal, and all deal with the messy consequences of the choices they've made and the lives they lived.

If you really want to boil it down to basic tropes I suppose it'd be whumper turned whumpee?

I'm pretty happy with the direction this one is going, I am pondering continuing it. The next 'chapter' would be Mal's pov, so probably much heavier on the whump than this one lol.

Edit: added links to header since this is now an official series