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viviennevermillion · 9 months

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*slides into your inbox because HSR requests are open*

Hey Vi! I was wondering if I could request some heacanons for Sampo, Blade, and your boy Luocha with a reader who likes to play with/run their hands through the boys hair? They all have such pretty hair and I want to play with it!

Anyway take your time of course, and I hope you're doing well! Please remember to take care of yourself!

playing with their hair

✧ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: ryker, yayyy, thank you for sending in a request! you made me think about sampo and realize that he's the funniest fucking character in the entire game and so much fun to write for. i had a blast with his banner too, the song fits him so well 💀🩵

btw requests are open and if you guys would like to read more of my works, check my masterlist!

✧ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: carried me with you — brandi carlile

✧ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: sampo, blade, luocha

✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: very slight angst in blade's (i'm so sorry, i'm trying, i promise)

Sampo loves when you play with his hair. He'd be 100% down for you trying ridiculous hairstyles on him but on a good day he'll put a pillow in your lap and puts his hands behind his head, sinking into the soft fabric. He closes his eyes when your fingertips start carding through his blue strands of hair. "This is the good life", he sighs and winks at you, "now all you'd need to do would be feeding me grapes like they do in the movies and things would be perfect." "Wait until I throw you off the couch", you shoot him a warning glare. "Hey, hey, I jest", he puts his hands up defensively and laughs.

"You know I'm lucky to have you", he takes your free hand into his and presses a kiss to your knuckles, "this is like we're straight out of a romantic piece of literature, don't you think?" You raised an eyebrow at him: "You're not exactly what I'd consider a romance novel protagonist."

He sighs. "True. I'm more like, the court jester who fell in love with the pretty royal heir", he reaches up to cup your cheek, caressing it gently with his fingertips. "And I love you for it", you laugh as he sits up to press a kiss to your lips. You bury your fingers in his hair whilst kissing back.

You take a deep breath and drift off into your own thoughts now that Sampo was quiet for a moment. A rare occurence, really.

As you enjoy this moment with your beloved, you think back to the chaos that was all over Belobog recently. "Hey, what do you think our friends from the Astral Express are doing now?", you wonder and Sampo sinks back into your lap again, resting his cheek against your stomach. "Maybe fighting a giant, strong lady with the help of a dragon, but what do I know?", he shrugs with a satisfied smile on his face. "Isn't it usually the other way around?", you raise an eyebrow. "It is, isn't it?", he puts a finger to his chin and chuckles.

You laugh and ruffle his hair. "You always have such an overactive imagination. You should write a book." "As much as I'd slay as an author, I'm just doomed by the narrative like the rest of us, darling."

Blade enjoys when you run your fingers through his hair. It's a sensation that momentarily distracts him from everything else that is going on in that busy, but tired mind of his; so it's well-appreciated.

He will not let you mess up his hair under any circumstance. Kafka calling him "Bladie", a terrible habit that rubbed off on you, was bad enough. He didn't need her and Silver Wolf to tease him about having a ponytail on top of his head with several braids going off from it, tied together with colorful hair ties.

Thankfully, you were sane enough not to attempt that.

But he does let you do a few nice hairstyles that look good on him; like a simple, long braid. He doesn't care for what he looks like after all these years of being alive but you seemed to find joy in it and it made his daily life easier sometimes to have his hair put together in a braid.

Sometimes when you sit behind him and braid his hair, you press a few teasing kisses to his neck. Unfortunately for his usually so serious demeanor, Blade is the most ticklish person you have ever met, so that's one of the only things that gets a laugh out of him; even if he didn't feel it emotionally. You brush a strand of his hair back, relishing in the sound he made so rarely; a slight tinge of sadness in your heart and a thought you didn't dare voice.

I wish I could see you laugh more... I'd do anything to make you happy.

He also lets you brush his hair every morning if you want to. His hair is so soft, as you have told him many times. He always wonders how something so simple could bring you so much joy; but he's glad that it does.

Luocha always takes good care of his hair; after all a professional appearance was important for a merchant. His hair is very soft and silky and you have a great time brushing and braiding it.

He teaches you how to do his signature hairstyle. It's quite difficult to do on his own so he appreciates that you're happy to help. This pretty much became a routine for the two of you in the morning.

Sometimes he'd try to get up at night to go to the bathroom and find you accidentally laying on his hair. He hisses an "ouch" under his breath, sometimes waking you up in the process. Once he's back in your arms, you massage his scalp and carefully run your fingers through his blond strands to make up for the painful accident.

In the morning, you tend to sit behind him and do his hair, often littering his neck and shoulders in the process. "Is this just an excuse for you to give me kisses?", he chuckles and shakes his head. "I suppose you caught me", you sigh with a smile on your face and Luocha turns his head to pull you into a deep kiss that catches you off guard. You quickly melt into the gesture, closing your eyes and noting how pleasant the taste of his lips is. You presume he applies lip balm in the morning before you do his hair but you never actually saw him do it.

When he gets home after a long day, depending on what hairstyle you did for him, his scalp hurts sometimes when you undo his braid so he loves to rest his head in your lap and have you ease brush your fingers through his hair.

#honkai star rail fluff #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail blade #blade x reader #blade x you #sampo x reader #sampo koski #sampo koski x reader #sampo x you #luocha x you #luocha fluff #luocha x reader #hsr luocha #luocha #sampo #hsr x reader #honkai star rail

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artgletic · 5 months

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Dimentio in an ancient-style fit (Mermentio? Mertio?) + 12th pixl

in my lore post, i talk about how i think dimentio was merloo’s mentor. I like to imagine he was very lowkey and his presence was lost to time, deliberately overshadowed by his student. He mentored merloo so as to get him to write the light prognosticus as a means of countering the dark one and creating a vulnerability in the prophecy for him to exploit later in the events of SPM. I additionally talk about dimentio's mask originating with the dead pixl who died during the events of the pixl war. these are just designs going off ideas from that post

Design notes under cut

-ancients have this really obvious gendered way of dressing, and i wanted dimentio to blur those lines, hence giving him the robes and headpiece of a man but the face veil and headpiece adornments of a woman. hes slaying

-speaking of facial decorations, dimentio isnt wearing his mask yet here. I hc he only starts wearing it around when he starts interacting with bleck (along with the jester fit as a whole)

-i decided to turf the stripes on his fit since it made him look too much like the dimentio we know as opposed to an ancient, as well as there was no ancients with similar patterning.

-to be real dimentio’s canon design is already very reminiscent of an ancient, particularly in the context of the rest of SPM’s designs and how crazy they can get. The basic shape of his hat already looks like a plausible ancient headpiece (like a combination of merlimbis and merlight), and merlumina has similar decal placements on her headpiece. theres also centre brooch that male ancients wear; dimentio’s diamond is similar. They both even have yellow eyes.

-the only real differences are dimentio’s leg and hands, both of which are monochrome and lined with white instead of black, almost emphasizing that they do not ‘fit’ the rest of the look or were added on unnaturally.

-his mask is also monochrome but not lined with white. My reason for this is since I think his mask is what remains of his old pixl, it’s not alien with respect to the ancients (hence not being lined with white), but not an authentic part of him (hence being monochrome)

#dimentio #merloo #super paper mario #spm

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wizardbracket · 1 year

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Round 3: Match 2 of 16

Why they deserve to be the ultimate wizard according to YOU:

Will:

Vanquished (so far): Rupert Giles, Mickey Mouse

"Look at his cute little hat!"

"He's a fashion icon and we love him. Address him by his full name. Will the Wise"

"Will the wise was such a certifiable slay that’s that”

“he is my sweet cheese, my rotten soldier, my good time boy”

“everyone’s soooo jealous because Will’s hat is pointier than theirs and their robes aren’t even breathable”

Schmendrick:

Vanquished (so far): Petrosilius Zwackelmann, Merlin (Shrek 3)

"He's so babygirl he deserves it"

"Schmendrick is the wizard of all wizards"

"He became a court jester to help out his unicorn bestie who doesn't even like him. He watched an old lady get eaten by a harpy and copes with alcohol"

"Vote for the kitten in a wet cardboard box"

“He's not "the ultimate", he's just so bad in order to make something work, he has to tell magic to do whatever it wants”

#polls #will byers #stranger things #the last unicorn #schmendrick

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sarcastic--metaphor · 7 months

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Vampire!Simon AU

I'm not going to call this a Part 1 to an overarching fic or anything. This is more like a rough proof of concept to see if I'm really willing to devote more time to this AU over my toxic yuri butchblegum/Star!Marcy AU. (Bc i wanna write both but I have to start managing my time better)

Basically:

Simon found Marcy but got turned into a vampire before he went fully mad

Marcy is still the Star

Simon has been forced to act as the Vampire King's advisor for 1000 years

he finds and wants to save baby Finn

Word count: ~1700

+++

The Vampire King seldom hunted his own meals anymore. True, when he was a thousand years younger, he adored the hunt. He savored the screams and the pleading. Listening for the rush of spilled blood and the dwindling voices. But he was a true king now, he had a castle and a legion at his disposal. His ward. And nowadays, he quite enjoyed his food being delivered fresh at his feet.

Perhaps it was because he could no longer enjoy the hunt with his court. Over the years, he lost his jester, his advisors. All of his inner circle save for his dearest Star.

And his Temperance.

As he heard the lesser vampire drones come in with that night’s catch, his daughter drifted in from one of the many tunnels overhead his throne. Her fangs glinted in the low light.

“I wonder what’s for dinner.”

“I told them to bring you some women,” the King said. He knew his daughter was partial to the company and blood of females.

The Star giggled in delight as the drones came in, pairs of them carrying their captured prey and dropping them before their masters.

Three men, two women. A fine enough meal.

The Vampire King rose from his throne, stretching his maw wide to flex his jaw. The humans shook and cried in their fears. Some prayed, some closed their eyes. It made no difference in the end. They’d been exhausted or injured from the hunt and knew their fates were sealed.

Then the most foul sound imaginable cut through the air.

The King hissed, eyes narrowing. It seemed he was mistaken. There was a small lump on the ground among the humans, a dirtied blanket writhing in a slow, grotesque fashion. His attention shifted to the dozen or so minions who brought him dinner.

“I told you you could eat those little things out there, but you can’t bring them in here! It’s already making such a ruckus.”

The drones quaked as much as the food, shivering as they hovered above the humans and pleaded for forgiveness. The King had half a mind to slay a few to set an example, but his shoulders stiffened at the sound of incoming footsteps.

His feline ears flattened against his skull as he let out a sharp growl.

“Dad?” Star asked.

“Quickly, baby girl,” he said, pointing at the lump on the floor, “Eat that wretched thing, he’s coming!”

She understood without another word. The Star dashed for the humans, scattering them and making them scream. But they were not her targets yet. Instead, she grabbed the baby and peeled the blanket back, fangs bared.

Too late.

The King turned to spot Temperance appear at the base of the steps to his left. He seemed out of breath, clutching the entryway as he adjusted his glasses. Damn it all, he had heard the cries from a distance and came running.

“Star!” he said.

Her shoulders slumped as she retracted her fangs. “Temperance. Come on, let me have this one. It’s giving Dad a headache.”

Temperance approached The Star, smoothing over his pure white hair as he examined the bundle in her arms. She allowed him, as the King knew she would.

Temperance took the infant from her and cradled it in his arms. He already had that look on his face, that expression of pure pity. He always had such a soft spot for human children.

It was a blessing long ago, that compassion. It was what saved The Star from an early grave. But there was no place for it here, now. And they all knew it.

Temperance looked to the King, lips parted.

He held up a hand and his sole surviving advisor fell quiet. The baby still bellowed. The Vampire King pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He didn’t want to argue like the last time. Temperance was mostly a man of reason, so he tried to appeal to that part of him.

“It won’t survive long, you know this,” he said quietly. As great and terrible as he was, it gave the King no pleasure to see the pinched expression on his advisor’s face.

“They’ll fare better this time.” Temperance said. “I’ve learned from my past mistakes.”

That didn’t say much. Disease, malnutrition, and the stray, hungry minion had ended each and every one of Temperance’s past wards. They just didn’t have the protection that the king, the most absolute authority, had given to his own daughter, though Temperance was loath to admit this.

The King regarded his advisor. “How long has it been since your last pet?”

Temperance said, averting his gaze, “About a hundred years.”

He was jostling the little thing now. Rocking it. At least it was growing a little more silent.

And wasn’t that the thing about Temperance?

His endless patience, his endless devotion?

The Vampire King had praised it so highly in the past.

“Dad,” The Star said. She drifted over to him and put her hand on his shoulder, “Let him try again.”

He scoffed, surprising even himself. “You of all people want a human infant in the hive?”

She grimaced. “Not really. But it’d mean a lot to him.”

“Please,” Temperance said. He was holding that little thing so close to his chest, his heart. As if he were already fond of it. He asked, “Haven’t I served you well all these years?”

The King sighed. Temperance was a good caretaker. He taught The Star to read and write, and helped take care of her for the past thousand years.

It was true that while Temperance has always been painfully sentimental, he had been good to them.

“Very well,” the Vampire King said. He pointed at Temperance. “Keep the child. But I don’t want to hear it cry.”

Relief flooded Temperance’s face, making him seem much younger than he was. He exhaled softly and bowed.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“However,” the King said.

In half a second, he’d crossed the gap between himself and Temperance. His advisor hardly flinched.

The Vampire King said, “I am not scared of some little blood bag. But humans are savage things. It’ll grow up to be a nuisance without proper discipline. And the moment it so much as threatens The Star,” he took Temperance’s chin in his clawed hand and forced him to meet his King’s eye, “the moment it ever threatens you, I will rip its throat out. Do you understand, Temperance?”

“Yes, I do,” Temperance said, a resigned look in his eyes. “Thank you.”

He began to leave, that child almost quiet now.

“You won’t stay for dinner?” Star asked.

He paused at the bottom of the steps and smiled over his shoulder. “I’m not really hungry.”

Typical. He never ate from live meals, only the bottled stuff. Well, not that it mattered much to the King. More for him and his baby girl.

+++

Temperance fled up the stairs before he could hear the crush of bones and the ripping sound of flesh being cleaved. After a millennium, it still made him sick.

The baby in his arms began to warble a fresh bout of cries.

“No, no. Hush, now,” Temperance whispered. He knew what he needed to do.

He stopped by his library only briefly, just to pick up a tattered red scarf from a box beneath his desk. Away from the eyes of the vampire drones and the rest of the court, he sated his hunger by sucking the red from the fabric.

A small hand pawed at the air before landing on the now-white scarf, bunching it up in one little fist.

“Oh, you want it?” Temperance asked. He let the baby hold it as he continued on his way. His wing of the vampiric castle consisted of a sprawling, multistory library, his private baths, his bedchambers, and one small adjoining room that hadn’t been used in a hundred years.

But everything was as he left it. The minions kept it clean of dust for him as per his request, but they didn’t move or touch anything.

Temperance sat in the rocking chair by the crib, undoing the baby’s dirtied blanket to reveal the little body within.

“Oh!”

The baby’s face was ruddy from his bout of crying. But he was chubby and healthy. No motley coloring to the skin, no signs of injury or infection. What was even more fascinating, however, was his white hat. Despite the lack of distinct eyes or a nose, the little ears were emblematic of an animal. Perhaps a dog or a bear.

It’d been a while since he’d seen a human with an animal hat, he thought this tradition died out a century or two ago. Many vampires nowadays, even the most simple-minded and animalistic ones, knew how to circumvent an animal hat. Temperance took off the baby’s hat and turned it inside out.

And yes, there on the inner brim was a handsewn name.

“Finn,” he said aloud. “Is that you, baby Finn?”

He smiled, replacing the child’s hat and watching his curious eyes wander the room.

Then it dawned upon him. He felt a terrible weight upon his chest, a crippling guilt.

“Oh… you poor thing.”

If Finn had a name sewn into his hat, it must have meant he came from someone who remembered the old ways of humans. Someone still in tune with human culture.

His culture. Temperance’s chest ached.

None of the adults that were brought in with the child tried to fight for him. Perhaps he didn’t belong to any of them, that he was taken from his true parents. If they were even alive, that was.

“I’m sorry,” Temperance said, “I’m so sorry.”

He wrapped Finn in the white scarf and held him close.

“Listen to me, Finn.” he said gently, “I’m going to take good care of you, I promise.”

Finn cooed and popped his lips. Simon laughed softly despite himself. He knew he was weak in comparison to the other vampiric royals. But he was even more so when it came to children.

“My name is Temperance, but you can call me Simon.”

#fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #simon petrikov #the vampire king #marceline #vampire AU #toxic marcy AU #finally simon gets to be a daddy #its what he deserves!!!!#also i know the vampires in AT can float #but simon will always prefer walking #it reminds him of how he used to be human

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baby-jaguar · 1 month

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Lust by Nature {Part 1}

Masterlist, Part 2, Part 3

Read on ao3

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (eventual) slightly dubious consent, (eventual) Somno, he wants you but is stubborn, violence, succubus reader, sexual tension, reader is given a callsign, minimal descriptions of reader, will update tags as I go

Word Count: 4,015

Summary: A demon by nature; a succubus. Now finally designated to a team, you’re a pilot in how demons and hybrid creatures alike can change the war. However, your previous commanders didn't account for a man too stubborn for his own good. Captain Price stands firm in his morals and ethics, developed by his hardened years in the SAS. You, a lustful little devil, will put him to the test.

And maybe along the way, he’ll put your nature to the test.

A/N: For my own logistics, reader was born seemingly human but the traits and magic did not solidify until reaching adult years, making you appear youthful while stuck in that age. This was originally going to be PWP but I sit here 20k words later... I hope ye enjoy!

Being a far descendant of a fallen angel, you could laugh at the pitiful life you’ve led yourself into.

You’re a pretty thing- beautiful, really. Full of allure and a natural aura of sin that draws others in with a simple look. The blood that pumps and fuels your magic has been alive for a long, long time.

Boredom is a constant in the life of the soulless and damned. It’s agonizingly blurry if you don't set a task or just choose to meander around the world but fortunately for you, you’ve got quite the life ahead of you.

Coming from a state-of-the-art high-security prison base, you’re technically a super soldier with a special drawback. Needing humans to fuel your power; you suck the life out of them, literally, and take energy from their sexual desires and touch.

It’s almost the brunt of the joke when you answer the question of what you are, feeling each time such an expectant shame and laugh to be cast upon you like heavy stones.

A succubus.

Long-acting jester of the demons taken for a lust-driven fool.

Being detained early on in your young lifespan, you were trained to be used as a weapon. Not of mass destruction, but rather something to make these stupid games of war go by so much easier. Not having to slay countless bodies for information and getting a damn good meal from the lives you stole (maybe a few quickies when your superiors weren’t looking), it’s a considerably content life compared to others.

Graduating from training after a few decades was quite the celebration for you and the officials who have been overseeing you for a plethora of years. The military had found a suitable team for you, and you were designated to be put under the supervision of an elite task force.

Supernatural beings were not uncommon in the military, as a large amount were free to live their lives if docile. In the lands of gods and monsters, the humans still held supreme reign over the controlled populations. However, beings similar to you were quick to be captured and either trained or distributed- the world turning a blind eye to what you were capable of achieving in the good and the bad.

John Price. The name stuck to your tongue like you were thirsty and you had a thick paste in your mouth.

No, not semen. At least not yet.

Being appointed to Task Force 141 was exciting. It’s your first time with this much trust, but you know you’d never fuck around too much to land you back to your containment. Captain Price had steely eyes locked onto your form the moment you stepped out of the convoy; high-security cuffs around your wrists and a large band of metal wrapped around your torso. The assumption is to keep you from shapeshifting or lashing out at anyone now that you’re out from the heavy locks and fences.

To everyone else, you looked human. Nothing amiss besides the heavy security detail on your body.

“Captain Price.” Your General’s voice rings out for you, greeting him with a firm handshake.

“General, pleasure.” His eyes dart away from you to greet the man, and you take a small dissatisfaction at the notion, your eyes traversing the expanse of him, already ruminating and calculating his presence.

He’s strong. His energy is sturdy; A cement wall that has cracks laced upon itself, layers of bonding to cover them up and just barely sanded over to appear brand new. His physical appearance leaves your internal senses giddy with the sense of a new adventure. If you’d release your glamour illusion, your tail would be swaying slowly.

The contract was simple; Your powers would be used in specific operations under Price’s command. You were his, and his only, not being allowed to act under any other authority. Behave well and you’ll be integrated more into society by his terms, but the worse you were, the worse your containment.

Your payment? Being able to form a bond with Price, one that will satisfy your demon, while being sure to keep you useful.

The etymology humans created portrayed a slew of differing conditions for succubi contracts, most being a damning thing to land humans a hot spot in hell. Being able to create this tie meant that they’d be your selected mate while they’d bear your mark to ward off any other demons. Under this, it barricaded you from killing said person. Instead, the feeding would come from sexual desire, touch, and yes, semen.

Watching Price, the flames of your creation begin to already yearn for his touch.

It's with a simple handoff of your file, a thick manilla envelope, that gets passed off to Price with no other words spoken, and you can’t help but marvel at how they treat your ownership like a back alley drug. The General nods towards you, speaking your name before the simple “But we just call her Little Devil.” A small twitch of Price's mouth makes you wonder if he disapproves.

“She may be a demon but keep her well-kept, Price. Your trial run in this program is going to do more than change war tactics.”

Shifting the envelope in his hands, Price takes a survey of how much documentation they have on just your captive existence. There could be some good and some bad, maybe all bad but the chance of letting a temperamental half-demon could cause serious repercussions to both sides. Hypothetically.

“We’ll be in touch.” Price responds, the forced-looking grin making the blue of his eyes slightly disappear for a moment. A nod of his head, then attention back on you while judging how to best go about this.

“You speak…?”

It sets a bristle off inside you with an internal scoff. The chance to insult him for accusing you of being either incompetent or something of the silent type settles, but your probation period keeps you inside the lines of behavior. “Yes, Captain.”

When he hears your voice; It sounds ethereal. Like the crisp jingle bells while the sound is eclipsed if not swallowed by soft and red velvet.

A small tick of his right eyebrow was the only movement accompanying a hum in acknowledgment. “Right, well. Let’s get you settled in then.”

With the queue of acceptance, the General brings a small key from a pocket unbeknownst to you, moving to unlock the cuffs. There’s humor in watching you, the new operator being uncuffed while accepted onto base- and hey, maybe you could ponder the religious message it brings forward too.

But there’s not enough time for that notion.

Walking off the tarmac and into the nearby administrative building brings steady heed of stares. “So… Your previous situation. Was told it was more of a containment type of thing. Would you mind speaking on that?” Price’s toned-down voice comes out after more than a few paces into the building, leading you towards a stairwell into the third floor.

“The best way to describe it in normalcy would be similar to what you human soldiers do here- the barracks. Just imagine its very high security.” It takes a moment to draw up the answer, having expected the man to be as nitwitted as the normal “A sex demon, huh?” question asked in every new encounter.

“You’ve always been in that situation?”

The clicking of both sets of feet confidently strikes the ground. A sense louder than the random soldiers milling around you and the lack thereof as others stop and stare in bewilderment.

“No. Not sure if you’re making small talk or haven’t read my file yet, but my demonic integration did not start manifesting until I was in my early adult years. Got turned in when I was walking around the streets in full form. No control whatsoever on shifting.”

A broken-off hum leaves the man, sensing the almost frazzled static around him as he works to keep walking while maintaining an eye on you. “I have. Just wanted to hear it from you.” Truthfully, if you were in his place with an unshackled demon that had years of military experience walking alongside you, you’d have some sense of fear too. “And how long ago was that? When you matured?”

Eyeing him for a moment, he looks mid-40s if anything. Handsome, worn down from war so possibly a bit younger. “Quite some time ago. I’d say when your parents were born, Captain.”

He stops in a mid-step, balances perfectly set before turning to whirr his head at you. Eyes give an up-down motion on you before ticking his jaw. “Huh.”

He pushes his way through a wall of soldiers to an office door before opening it. “And how old-”

“Body stopped aging when all the changes settled. A second sense of puberty that I’m locked into.” The small upturn of your lips doesn’t pass him. All he can do is nod in response.

He makes his way to the desk against the back corner of his office room; The space is a good size, Having enough for his L-shaped desk with two chairs in front of it. A worn-in leather couch on an adjacent wall while a few framed documents hang on the wall, military in nature with medals attached to them while undusted fake plants serve as accents in the corners.

“Very well,” He gives a soft grunt when adjusting himself in his seat before opening up the large manilla folder. “You, are going to be judged based on your nature and human interaction during your uncontained enlistment. Ability to perform assignments, be of aid, and see what your specific capabilities can put forward with us.”

Head nodding in check with each item listed, “Understood, Captain.”

His blue eyes leave the documents for a moment to find your gaze already on him. “You’ve got a good rapport with every previous task, but your previous COs still didn’t state trust as a key factor. Why would that be?”

For a moment, you get lost in the focus of his body language; Price folds his arms over the table, holding his elbows as the pages become spread over his desk. The way he purses his lips after a question that holds an answer he will depend on. His lips make a small smack in the action, and it's cute in the way he’s so human.

“I didn’t trust them.”

An eyebrow arches at the vague response prompting you to continue. “Kept me like a lab animal, fed me or let me feed when deemed easy for them to write off in the report. That’s not how you treat a demon when expecting to use their powers, sir.”

“And this feeding… There’s multiple ways listed here but to be frank- I’ve still yet to get my head wrapped around it. You’re a sex demon, yeah?”

Ah. There it is.

His eyes dart down to the few pages that cover your needs and methods of survival, studying the paragraphs of information. A how to keep your demon alive handbook if you will.

“The premise of everything I need stems from what is deemed as life force, or just called energy. Sex is easy, and feels the most satisfying.” A breath before continuing. “ But relying on just energy wont last me long, yet its easier in some situations. Those barely alive are easy to take from.”

He knows there's more to be had with you. A temptress trained well with a pedigree in what you were made for. But he can only hypothesize. “And what are you expecting from being here?”

A look of surprise flashes in the widening of your eyes, not used to someone asking in consideration. “I’m expecting more hostiles, interrogations, or kills that I could take to feed myself. And sex too.”

“Oh-” A half cough leaves him before looking to the side. Surely he should have known, it's stereotypical but at least true.

“If you want me at full strength, I’m going to need the energy. I’m sure you could understand that, Sir?” The small tilt of your head, almost an aloof look sends alarm bells into his mind. They wouldn’t have sent a succubus in here without some sort of plan already being formed, some procedure and measure being used to-

“I am expecting to form a relationship with you, Captain.”

And at that, a full choked sound leaves him. He deserves doubled pension for this.

“And in what right mind, was that established in, hm?” He grounds out, opening a desk drawer to pull out a cigar before taking a cutter to the end of it. You measure the time it takes for him to light it and take a first steady puff.

“Well, the way I see it- and having discussed it with my previous superiors, this is supposed to mirror a real dynamic. This is the only point of contact to report on my behavior. I don’t think engaging in what I need would go over well if I went wild with other operators or soldiers around the base. Confirm or deny?”

Price’s eyes narrow as you speak, dragging his gaze away to stare at his locked computer screen. A grunt in the back of his throat sounds before taking another inhale of his cigar. For a man who has been fighting on the front lines for countless years, he keeps the smoke in for a steady amount of time. Healthy lungs. Good for him.

You haven’t tried a cigar, only have gotten a whiff of the burning tobacco coming from superiors. This smell is the lingering one you picked up on Price even when standing on the tarmac. Sweet, vanille and tobacco leaves.

“You said your previous company spoke on this with you.” He starts with a swift movement to rifle through the pages on his desk. “This in writing or are you taking the piss now?” He speaks in a deep grumble, holding the burning cigar between his lips.

An internal groan rattles your mind, already sensing this may be more of a struggle than ease of getting what you were promised. “Last few pages. It’s all in writing.” He seemed like a sensible man in the way that if a warm and inviting body was laid out to him while asking for himself, he’d take it.

“Commanding officer is to set an established and cohesive exchange, herein the succubus will be fed from a relationship in physical and sexual natures while in exchange not damaging or harming the officer.” His accent slides in a bit more thickly than you’ve heard up until now, eyebrows scrunched while he mumbles the page to himself. “And why in the bloody hell, was this not communicated to me beforehand?”

You can’t control the wry smirk that steals your lips while looking at him, trying not to laugh. “They thought it would be a no-brainer.” A pause, “Sir.”

Plucking the cigar out of his mouth, Price sighs while leaning back in his chair seemingly defeated. “You sufficed well without any previous relation in the company, there’s no evidence that this will turn out well.” His eyes now land on you in a quick movement.

“As I mentioned-” He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“No. I’m not going to sleep with my subordinate, less so one that can kill me if so pleases.” The uptick of his chin bleeds with firmness, a decision that screams arrogance of finality.

Settling down in a way that almost matches his, your jaw ticks. “Yes, sir.”

And truthfully it's all you can say. Agree and accept to stay here and be the guinea pig for others like you. You can warn all you want but by the devil himself, humans won’t learn until their wrongs meet them in their face.

“If I could so much as advise you, Captain;” Your chin dipping, licking the front of your teeth, and feeling the small prick of your dormant fangs. He nods for you to continue, “If you want me at my full capacity, I will need every ounce of energy I can get. You’re going to need to keep that in the back of your head. It’s not simple like a meal you eat. It’s a life I take or the sex I make.”

Now, a quick smile flashes over him only disappearing when he takes a long, longer drag of the cigar. “I’ll keep that in mind, Demon.” Sitting up straighter, leaning on the desk again.

“But whether or not you are a good girl, depends on what ethics I choose to apply.” The smoke puffs out in small bursts as he speaks, tendrils leading up toward heaven before it stills in limbo at the weight of it.

—

The men- your teammates, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap, each greeted you with somewhat seasoned restraint and respect by holding their tongues yet their eyes spoke their curiosity while roaming over you.

You could see the disappointment in their eyes. Being met with a seemingly normal human was not what they had been briefed on. Having let their imagination run wild at the title of a succubus, you’d guess they would have wanted to see every aspect of what kind of mystical enchantress you would be. Once the disappointment of not seeing such things the churches pray against, the view of your human form set in.

Lords above you were the finest piece of-

It felt like a surefire version of winning the lottery to have you assigned to them. Banking on the fact that you’d be their little guard dog and they yours, Gaz already having to scare recruits away at PT while you stared on with a coy smile. Training was as you’d have expected. Executions of strategies, questioning of tactics, and scoring your shooting were all within the long hours of the day. What you hadn’t expected was the lack of insults thrown your way in passing when you met their standards. No degrading words of being a a demon, or a slut by association of your breed.

It was two weeks before you were allowed to come on an assignment with them; The mission in the bitter snow of the Russian Tundra.

12 hours in and having stormed a bunker with countless bodies already strewn across, blood stains the polished cement and a flicker of sinister delusion makes you wish the snow was this color.

Tattered remains of your shirt sleeves show the color of your skin underneath, but miraculously no wounds present themselves even as your kevlar has obvious points of damage. The sight of you standing, gun raised and firing quick bursts of succession as the last body falls to the ground. It’s like a scene out of a soldier's bible.

Your chest heaves, mouth opens to lick your teeth as the adrenaline slows its production in your blood. Price is sure that if he put a body cam on you, it would be a haze of movements, a shadow clouding up the corners of the screen and filled with static. He’s still not sure what to think of you in the short amount of time you’ve been here. Quiet and speaking only when spoken to. And it’s not what he was prepared for; The thick dossier of yours being filled with reprimands, complaints, and classified lines that hid your after-action reports with details on your kill count.

From the first meeting, he knew you were spoiled rotten in that compound, save the punishments given on your worst days. You knew how to get what you wanted. Bitting time and time again to still be fed. Yet, now all he can see is you biting at others if only to protect your men.

“Saint.” The spur of Price’s voice makes you jump, the scene of death halting, eyes darting to a stack of crates where he lays. His squinted eyes lock onto your form, trailing up and down for a moment before he tries to adjust himself with a grunt.

“Who?” You ask while taking a secondary cautious sweep of the room before moving to him in a quick few steps.

“You, sweetheart. Saint.”

His grunt of pain doesn’t faze you, instead focusing the whiff of a sweeter metallic smell hits you. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

Ghost, Gaz, and Soap have the outside perimeter locked down with getaway snowmobiles at Price’s word. He touches the side of his com to activate it, roughly alerting them you both had cleared the floor and will need to medevac in the next coming moments.

“Let me get that for you.” It was a severe contrast to the inhumane growling and yelling from moments before as you tore into the enemies, ones that had you in a blind rage for landing a shot on Price.

Shaking his head, he reaches out his hand to stop you. “‘M fine, just need a quick patch. We need to leave.” He grounds out, leaning forward while covering the wound on his thigh.

Common knowledge brought the understanding that succubi had a level of regenerative power, but most not having been raised in military secrecy or being able to develop themselves into having control.

“Stop. Just-” A breath settles in your lungs, measuring itself and the expanse of what you could do- how you could help and be useful. The previous rage and fight instincts transform with concentration and the swirling of conjuration. “I need a little…” You trail off, eyes sweeping upwards to his.

There’s a shame that humans hold. You blame it on them being entirely born of boring flesh, but that would be hypocritical to an extent. Taking his vest in hand, you pull yourself forward to lean in.

“What the bloody-” Price jerks back but can't even finish as you sush him, giving him a deep stare that almost sedates him. He stills and quiets at the same time, now holding your gaze that he swears he saw the current color be flooded by a deep red.

He blinks for a moment, already trying to fight the small calming waves you push into him but the sudden feeling of long talons priking into his shirt makes him freeze. Like an animal with food aggression, you keep him there while moving in to bring your lips together.

You can taste a bit of blood, and the saltiness of his sweat, while trying not to groan at just how good he feels against you. His lips are surprisingly plump, probably from being irritated due to the cold, but it adds a level of eroticness to feel his wet lips slide over yours.

“Stay still for me.” You pause the kiss that he’s surprisingly reciprocating eagerly, breathing into each other's mouths. The soft plea drives his heart rate up and you can feel the sense of adrenaline spiking. He’s going to sleep like a fucking brick tonight.

He shudders when you come back together with more force, purposefully dragging the tip of your fangs against his bottom lip as you crowd him.

There.

There is the sickly sweet thrum of arousal in his body that makes his mind stir, what you could give in a bastardized excuse of lust right now.

“Mmm, give me a minute.” Comes your wet slurred speech when pulling away, eyebrows furrowing as you focus on on his bullet wound.

The sight of you could be his glory to fight. Tattered from battle, your lips are tinted red, clothes dirty from the gunpowder floating in the air, looking as if so carelessly lethal while your presence is a magnet to him. He's already caught himself wondering why you were chosen to represent a being that fell so far from heaven when your instincts screamed the opposite in small moments.

Looking down to be sure he’s healed just enough, you miss the look of blatant shock he gives when the pink and unmarred flesh greets his eyes. “A right fuckin’ saint you are.” He murmurs, watching you call the boys for exfil, no longer medevac.

#captain john price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #tf141 #cod mw2 #captain jonathan price #john price #f!reader #cod fanfic #captain price mw2 #captain john price x reader #lust by nature #task force 141 #captain price x y/n #captain price

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salty-an-disco · 2 months

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some more magical girls au stuff

and also some lore stuff:

– ‘The Echo’ is an immortal entity originated from the first ever echo to be created in that construct that trapped two gods. And now, eons later, this echo is obsessed with keeping a balance between the reincarnating pieces of these gods, and is always seeking out Quiet’s pieces reincarnations so that they always have the power to slay the pieces of the Princess that keep coming back. In this AU, this manifested as him basically making the voices magical girls

– the Echo is attached to a mirror; its shards used to make several hand mirrors he can be on at once and is how he communicates with the voices. Has mild shapeshifting abilities as an inky shadow that usually takes the form of a crow

– the Princesses create dimension bubbles around them ala Madoka Magica that change their surroundings to match their respective themes; they can only be dispersed by either killing the princess or helping them find closure in their stories (Echo conveniently doesn’t tell anyone about the latter option). They’ll always come back when they’re killed tho (often worse), and the cycle can keep going.

– Hero is in community college, studying law (it’s not his passion at all, but his family really wants him to be a lawyer and he can’t disappoint them!!), and often does gigs as a delivery boy for several businesses or other odd jobs. One of the newest magical girls alongside Contrarian – name in this AU is Hiro Capricórnio, and his transformed name is Starling; he has a stars and knight theme, and is able to summon a long, silver, feather that he uses as both a sword and a shield

– my Contra design kinda looks like a vocaloid so I decided he’s an actual superstar in his normal life who goes by the name ‘Contra Jester’ — their shows are always a fun spectacle that mixes in jokes and comedic gags in their musical performance (kinda like an inverse Bo Burnham, but with more lighthearted themes) – his AU name is Carter Thomfoolery (actual birth name) and their transformed name is Lyrical; has a music and clown theme and can summon a lyre that he uses to do all sorts of effects on the people affected

– Oppy is Carter’s agent and a senior magical girl. Doesn’t technically has any credentials to be managing a super star and was caught money laundering before, but hey! as long as he doesn’t try to meddle in their shows, Carter won’t sue them :) — was very concerned when they found out Carter was made a magical girl considering how unpredictable and uncontrollable they already are – AU name is Oscar Wilde and transformed name is Jack of Trades; has a showman/magician theme and can use the cards up his sleeves and his echoing voice to convince others to do what he wants

– Paranoid is a workaholic trying to get into medic school while juggling two part-time jobs and her responsibilities as a magical girl. Is very distrustful of the Echo in her mirror that gives her orders, but is EVEN MORE distrustful of the princesses; one of which is a recurring Nightmare she has only barely managed to defeat a few times. Tries to help/keep an eye on Lyrical and Starling, since she knows how it is to just start this off without much (helpful) guidance – AU name is Pamela Noid, and her transformed name is Little Shrike; has a plague doctor/engineer theme, the suitcase she carries can be opened to all sorts of contraptions that creates toxins and acid-filled bombs or guns, can also produce healing medicine (the pinnacle of “I’m a healer, but–”)

#this AU been spinning in my head at lightning speed y’all #wanna draw more about it BUT BODY TIRED AND FEELIN’ SICK!!#voice of the hero #the narrator #voice of the opportunist #voice of the contrarian #voice of the paranoid #slay the princess #stp voices #Echomirror AU #< how Imma be calling my version of a magical girl au #magical girl au #sal draws #sal rambles #(under the cut)#sketches

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strixcattus · 2 months

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I've had this idea for an STP roleswap AU swimming around in my head for the past couple days (as though I need a fifth AU) and I kind of want to write down what I have, semi-coherently.

The general concept is thus: The Narrator's plan did not go exactly to plan, and the outside world completely stagnated after the Shifting Mound died. The Long Quiet is content to rule over an empty kingdom, and the Voices have faded over time to be little more than memories tasked with keeping the sole remaining fragment of the Shifting Mound from regaining her former strength.

Meanwhile, the Princess and the Echo are trapped in a mockery of the original Construct, asleep, until after an unknown fraction of eternity they wake up.

The Echo is disoriented at first, but realizes that his plan was complete and resulted in an effective destruction of the world. Figuring that some world, even a finite one, is better than no world at all, he offers to help the Princess escape the basement to which she is confined. (Of course, he's still resetting each time she fails to escape, which means he has to figure this out all over again.)

You are in the basement of a cabin. Outside of this cabin is a Hero. And that Hero will arrive here any minute. He's here to slay you. If he does, you will never escape.

The Narrator offers you a chance to have a weapon. If you take him up on the offer, the Hero will arrive armed, and if you don't, he'll be unarmed—this carries over into Chapter II. You'll also have the choice to face the Hero in the upstairs of the cabin, or to lie in wait in the basement, and when you get to talking with him, you can either act generally friendly and ask questions, or make threats to try getting him to give in. If you ask several questions in a row, you'll be locked out of the threats, and if you threaten the Hero, you can still ask questions, but you won't get much cooperation.

The thing is, the door won't open for you without the Hero's help, and in Chapter I, one of you will inevitably end up killing the other. The Hero will attack you if you try to leave the cabin (or leave the basement, if you lie in wait but decide not to ambush him) or if you run out of dialogue options.

The Chapter II routes are as follows:

Executioner: Take the blade, but refuse to fight back when the Hero attacks, leading to a cold-hearted Hero who doesn't feel remorse over killing you. Prince: Don't take the blade, and refuse to fight back when the Hero attacks, leading to a Hero who regrets slaying you and seems devoted to helping you.

Seer: Take the blade and successfully ambush the Hero in the basement, leading to a jumpy Hero who refuses to trust you. Fledgeling: Don't take the blade, but successfully ambush the Hero in the basement, leading to a flighty Hero who refuses to let himself be seen.

Warrior: Take the blade, attack the Hero, and overpower him, leading to a Hero who's more interested in fighting you than actually doing his job—or letting you go free. Worshipper: Don't take the blade, but threaten the Hero and overpower him, leading to a meek Hero who can't bring himself to stand against you.

Detective: Take the blade, ask questions, and fight back when attacked (unless you're attacked after running out of dialogue options), leading to a Hero who seems understanding of your actions and more interested in the bigger picture. Victim: Don't take the blade or threaten the Hero, but still attack him unprompted, leading to a Hero who's convinced you're more of a threat than you seem and refuses to engage with you.

Jester: Willingly return to the basement after meeting the Hero upstairs, leading to a laid-back Hero who doesn't really care about doing his job. Traitor: Either don't take the blade and fight back when attacked, or run out of dialogue options either with or without the blade, and fight back, leading to a Hero who'll gladly stab you in the back at the first opportunity, and is convinced you'd do the same.

The tone of your options in Chapter II changes depending on the Hero's perception of you—you'll have more options that align with how the Hero sees you, and fewer that go against it. Once in Chapter II, you have the ability to leave with the Hero (though some are much easier or harder to convince) or, if you fail, reach a Chapter III where the mock Construct is on the edge of dissolving. Each Chapter II has both a unique Chapter III and one where they seem to be fused with their paired Hero.

Once you manage to leave the cabin with the Hero, his memories return and you get a fragment of an explanation as to why you're in the cabin. He tells you that you are not yet strong enough to escape the real prison of the Long Quiet, and he on his own is powerless to help, but that with more experiences, you'll be able to achieve freedom for real. After five routes, you remember what you truly are and get to come face-to-face with the Long Quiet.

There's an equivalent to As You Were Once Nothing, as well—if you repeatedly refuse to leave the basement during Chapters II and III, you'll eventually fade away into nothing due to not being perceived.

#slay the princess #role reversal au #stp roleswap au #escape the cabin au

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