#the monster in the ruins of ship five

[enyaliang]

Hello, yes, more giant feathery kibby content?

Check this out! And yes you will read it :3

fic written by @beesinspades

cw below: blood and injury, and maybe some spoilers?

Inspired by ch6 but not that accurate, anyways, angy protective feather fluff

[mazeeelabyrinth]

○●○ Daggers and Kisses ○●○

"And now," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours, "now, you're going to find out just how much of a monster I can truly be."

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡ Pairing: Sylus x AFAB!Reader

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡ Tags: 18+, eventual smut, explicit sexual language, explicit sexual scene, enemies to lovers, dubious consent, dubcon kissing, dubcon blow jobs, nipple play, cunnillingus, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, creampie, bdsm, handcuffs and blinfolds, canon divergence au, ooc?

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡ Summary:

You are a bounty hunter with a long-standing vendetta against Sylus, the elusive and dangerous leader of the criminal syndicate Onychinus. Years of near-misses and unspoken tension have turned your rivalry into something darker, something charged. When you infiltrate his extravagant birthday gala aboard one of his luxury cruise ships, you're seconds away from finally striking—until everything goes wrong. Drugged and captured, you wake up blindfolded, bound to the bed in his private suite.

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡ Word Count: 7.8K

Chapter II: Gilded Cage, Velvet Drapes

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡ A/N: It's supposed to be for Sylus' birthday but I was busy with other fics. Better late than never. And yeah, I'm opening the holy gates of LADS fanfics.

MASTERLIST ☆ AO3 ☆ NAVIGATION ☆ TAG LIST

The ocean outside was velvet-dark, its only shimmer the flicker of moonlight splintered by waves. Above it sailed a behemoth of indulgence—an Onychinus cruise liner, gleaming like a floating city, cloaked in celebration and secrets. Music pulsed from the gala deck like a heartbeat, echoing through the ship’s opulent veins.

It was a decadent affair—gilded ceilings reflecting the glittering chandeliers above, their shimmer cascading like rainfall over a sea of masked guests dressed in silk, diamonds, and ambition. Every surface gleamed. Every laugh held secrets.

And at the heart of it all, like a star in his own gravity field, stood Sylus.

The name itself was almost a sin, tasted like something forbidden. White hair falling carelessly over crimson eyes that could ruin you with a glance. He stood near the grand piano, fingers lazily caressing the rim of a wine glass as he listened to a group of investors trying far too hard to impress him. He was barely listening. He never really had to.

Years of pursuit had led to this moment. And still, your breath hitched.

You had tracked Sylus from the shadowy depths of trading networks to rogue Evol labs, always just a step too late, always outmatched. Your assassination attempts were clever, calculated—but he danced through them like smoke. Mocked you, even.

And the worst part? He never retaliated.

You’d survived only because he’d let you. Like a cat with a mouse it wasn’t quite finished playing with. You didn’t know if it was mercy or mockery, and it clawed at you.

You watched him from a distance, holding a silver tray like it belonged to you. Your disguise was simple: black waistcoat, crisp apron, plain white colombina mask similar to those worn by the other waitstaff; and a name tag that read “Isla”—whoever she was. The real Isla was bound and gagged in a supply closet five decks below—your work.

Makeup skillfully applied to conceal your features—particularly your eyes; which he’d seen enough through the masks you wore during your attempts of wiping Sylus’ existence.

Waitress, your brilliant disguise. Nobody important. Nobody worth looking at twice. A perfect shadow to blend in with the glittering snakes of society that slithered through the gala.

The scent of champagne lingered in the air like deceit dressed in silk. You stepped lightly, shoes silent over imported marble, tray perfectly balanced on your gloved hand. But your eyes never left him.

Sylus.

He was a flame in a room of moths—every eye caught in his orbit, every laugh a little louder when it came from his direction. That white hair, always slightly disheveled like he'd just walked away from a fight he enjoyed. Red eyes half-lidded in amusement, danger coiling beneath the velvet of his voice as he conversed with guests draped in silk and sin.

You hated him. You wanted him… dead.

But tonight was different. This time, you had a plan so foolproof it sang in your blood. A few seconds alone with him and you’d deliver a toxin engineered to mimic a slow-onset neural shutdown. He’d never see it coming.

And yet…

Your hands trembled slightly as you passed by him, just close enough to smell the faint musk of his cologne—clean smoke and cedarwood. His voice reached you, smooth and disarmingly amused.

“Careful,” he said, not even turning. “You almost spilled that champagne.”

Your spine went stiff, though you managed to murmur. “Yes, of course, sir. I apologize.”

The party wore on like a fever dream. Dancers spun in silks. The air was thick with perfume, the tension of contracts being made, broken, and reborn. Sylus vanished from the main floor for only a few minutes—and you followed, pretending to carry a new bottle of Dom Perignon.

The hallway was narrow and dim, the hum of the ship louder here, industrial and alive. You’d made it past the ballroom and into the suites' passageway, heart hammering in your chest, adrenaline slick on your palms. You reached for the blade—

And then:

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” The voice was low, taunting.

Just as you turned around a corner, two men flanked you before you even registered them—sharp suits, cruel eyes, hands like stone. A heavy hand closed around your arm. The tray clattered to the floor, the expensive wine and glasses shattered like fragile illusions. One wordless, the other sneering as he caught your arm. You struck fast, a knee to the gut and elbow to the throat—but you weren’t fast enough.

Before you could draw, the first guard's arm locked around your waist, another hand slamming a linen-dampened cloth over your nose and mouth.

Chloroform. The sickly sweet smell filled your lungs. Panic surged—your pulse raced, your instincts frenzied, your scream muffled.

— ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ —

You woke with the ache of time lost, your limbs heavy with the residue of the sedative. The room was too quiet. Your head throbbed like a war drum as you stirred awake. Lashes fluttering. Breathing shallow. You blinked, only to find blackness still—until you realized the silk blindfold was tight across your eyes. You tried to move—and realized something was wrong.

You were lying on a bed. Silken sheets cradled your body, disheveled, legs tangled in expensive fabric you didn’t recognize. Your wrists were bound—cold metal cuffing them to the upholstered headboard. Your legs were free, but trembling. The clothes you’d worn had been stripped of their weapons, apron gone, hair untucked, the crisp blouse now wrinkled and half-unbuttoned, askew, pulled halfway down your torso. There was no pain, but the disarray was unmistakably deliberate.

And someone was there.

His presence was unmistakable, even with his back turned. Broad shoulders beneath a crisp button up shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the crimson lining flickering as he lit a cigarette with quiet fingers. The cherry flare cast shadows on the walls like firelight in hell.

Sylus.

He exhaled slowly, a long stream of smoke curling toward the ceiling like a prayer lost on the wind.

“You know,” he said, voice smooth as obsidian, “I had a bet going. How long would it take before you tried again?” He turned just slightly, enough for the orange glow to paint the side of his jaw.

“Happy fucking birthday,” you rasped, voice hoarse with disbelief and fury.

“You remembered,” he murmured in mock sincerity. “I’m touched.”

The silence that followed was thick, electric, buzzing with tension. Your heart thundered beneath your ribs. The cold thrill that swept through your veins wasn’t fear.

Not exactly.

“You gonna kill me?” you asked.

Sylus chuckled—low, indulgent. He flicked ash into a crystal tray and stepped closer. The room felt suddenly too warm as you listened to the faint rustling caused by his movements.

“Kill you?” he repeated. “Now why would I ruin the one thing that’s kept me entertained these last few years?”

His hand touched the bedpost. A lazy drag of his fingers down the metal. “You should’ve worn something prettier,” he mused. “But I suppose we’ll fix that soon enough.”

You swallowed hard, pulse screaming in your ears.

Sylus moved like a predator—slow, deliberate, savoring the prowl. He took a long drag from the cigarette, his movements languid and deliberate. With the soft flick of his wrist, the smoke spiraled upward in thick plumes, and you could feel the faint sting of it in your nostrils, even as the weight of the blindfold made the world blur into darkness.

Your breath hitched as the mattress dipped beside your hips, a subtle shift that sent every nerve ending screaming awake. The blindfold turned the world into a void, and in that darkness, every sound amplified. The faint rustle of fabric. The soft clink of his belt as he sat down. The sharp flick of the lighter once more, followed by a second exhale of smoke that drifted across your cheek like a ghost.

"You look… quite helpless, like this," he murmured, his voice a low hum that reverberated against your chest. "I wonder what you'll do now. You can't even see me coming, can you?"

You could hear the amusement in his tone, and it stoked the fire of defiance inside you.

"I don't need to see you to know what kind of monster you are," you hissed, biting back the tightness in your throat.

Sylus’ presence hovered over you like a storm. He put away the tobacco, pressing it down against the tray until its last ember faded into ash.

You could feel the heat of him radiating, the crisp, clean scent of his cologne growing nearer, mingling with the tobacco and subtle musk of his skin. Every breath you took felt laced with danger, and yet there was something irresistible about the way he moved, like a predator toying with its prey. The luxurious bed beneath you shifted with the weight of his body as he leaned closer, just close enough for the heat of his breath to ghost across the curve of your neck.

He wasn’t in a hurry. There was no rush. The teasing silence between you felt like an eternity—your heart pounding in your chest, your pulse thrumming against the cold, unforgiving steel of the handcuffs. You tugged, pulled at your restraints, but they only gave a small, satisfying jingle that mocked your struggle.

“Struggling?” His voice, like velvet and whiskey, was too close, and yet you couldn’t see him. You could only feel his presence, like an electric charge that arced between your skin and his.

“I’m not your toy, Sylus,” you spat, squirming on the bed, body tense and restless.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers traced the edge of your jaw, delicate and deliberate, sending a shiver skittering down your spine. The touch was light—almost playful—but you knew it was a calculated move to test your reaction. Your jaw clenched, and you turned your head away from his touch.

He chuckled. “You can keep telling yourself that. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You think you’re in control.” His fingers dipped lower, brushing the curve of your collarbone, the pads of his fingers circling as if savoring every inch of your skin.

You bit back a breath, trying to remain composed despite the undeniable warmth spreading through your body. But your body betrayed you. Every brush of his fingers, every exhaled word, coiled your insides tighter.

“You’re playing with fire,” you warned, though the words trembled in your throat.

His response was a soft, dangerous laugh, and then, just as you thought he might back away, his lips were on your ear.

“You have no idea how much I like fire,” Sylus murmured, hot and husky in your ear. “It burns. It licks at your skin until there’s nothing left but the heat.” His lips brushed over your earlobe, making your breath catch, but you couldn’t turn your head away. You couldn’t even see him.

You felt his hand—strong and unyielding—grip your chin, lifting your face toward him. You twisted, but the restraints held you fast, and then his lips were there, brushing over your mouth, just a whisper of pressure.

The kiss didn’t come. He teased you with it, letting his lips hover so close you could feel the warmth of him, feel the pulse of his breath.

“I know what you want,” he murmured, lips still a breath away from yours, “and you know exactly what I can give you.”

You tried to fight back, twisting your body beneath him, but it was futile. The strength in his hands was overwhelming, more than you’d ever anticipated. His fingers slipped over your waist, dragging across the fabric of your disheveled clothes, tracing the lines of your body as if mapping out every secret you tried to hide.

You kicked out instinctively, your heel connecting with his shin in an attempt to push him back. But it only seemed to amuse him further. Sylus’ fingers wrapped around your ankle in a grip so tight you couldn’t move, pulling your leg back and pushing it to the bed as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

“You think kicking me will get you out of this?” he asked, voice dripping with amusement and something darker. His lips brushed your ear, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. “It only makes me want to hold you down more.”

Your chest rose and fell with every shaky breath. His proximity made you burn, yet every instinct told you to fight. You bit your lip, forcing your body not to react. “I won’t let you control me, Sylus.”

“Oh, darling,” he whispered, the words sinking into your skin like a promise of something dangerous. He brushed his lips lightly against your earlobe, the touch so soft, it almost felt like a ghost. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

You yanked against the cuffs, trying to twist your body free, but the moment you did, he pressed his knee between your thighs, forcing you to stay still. His touch was all consuming—firm, teasing—his knee nudging, pressing just enough to make your pulse race, but never quite enough to give you what you wanted.

You gritted your teeth, refusing to let him see how much his touch affected you. “Fuck you,” you spat, voice dripping with defiance, though your heart was pounding, erratic in your chest. “I won’t beg.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound rough and amused, as if he was finding your resistance amusing rather than frustrating. His hand moved lower, trailing across your ribs, fingers skimming over the curves of your body with maddening precision. You shivered, trying to turn your face away, but your blindfolded senses only made everything sharper.

You tried to bite at him, teeth snapping in his direction, your breath ragged and angry beneath the blindfold. But Sylus only chuckled again, a sound that made your skin burn and your heart race even faster. He seemed to revel in your resistance.

"Such a fire," he mused, almost to himself. "But it won’t be enough to burn me down."

The lightest brush of his lips against your collarbone made you flinch, your body betraying you in ways you didn’t want to admit. You hissed in frustration, trying to pull away from him, but he was everywhere now—his scent, his heat, his overwhelming presence.

You felt the pressure of his body closer, now brushing against yours. Your breathing was shallow, erratic, every brush of his skin sending a ripple of tension through you. His fingers, still tracing up your thigh, slid higher, pushing the edge of your clothes up with a slow, deliberate drag.

You felt him shift, moving above you like a predator circling its prey. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your mind screamed at you to fight, to not give in to the burning tension building between you.

“You won’t get away from me,” he whispered, voice dark and filled with something primal. The way he said it made your breath hitch in your throat. It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

You squirmed again, trying to break free, but Sylus leaned down, his lips finding the pulse at your throat. His kiss was soft at first—almost gentle—but then his teeth grazed your skin, and you gasped, the sensation sending a flood of heat straight to your pussy. He didn’t let up, his hands moving with a purpose, pulling you closer to him, as though he was marking you as his own.

"I’m going to enjoy watching you squirm, little hunter," Sylus murmured, his voice low and almost pleading with cruel delight. His lips dragged down your neck, his body pressing in close, and the fire between your legs burned hotter, more intense with every breath. The fight was draining from you, replaced by something else—a deep ache that you couldn't deny.

“Stop,” you hissed, the defiance still clinging to your voice even as your pulse betrayed you. Your body reacted—tensed, arched, seeking something you couldn’t name. Anything to break the suffocating tension.

But Sylus wasn’t interested in letting you off that easily.

He didn’t stop. Instead, he leaned in, lips finally meeting yours in a slow, agonizing kiss. His mouth was fierce, claiming, tasting, as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you deeper into him. The kiss was a clash of heat and hunger, a storm that flooded your senses.

His hand slid down your ribs, and you gasped at the sudden heat of his touch. He was testing your limits, deliberately pushing you until your restraint faltered. His voice came again, softer this time, the heat of it like a furnace against your ear.

“You like that?”

You kicked, thrashing against the bed in a futile attempt to throw him off, but he simply shifted, pinning your legs down with a weight that left you breathless. Every movement only fueled his resolve, deepened his touch.

“Still fighting?” he asked, lips brushing against your neck as he traced his thumb across your jaw. “Such a shame. I thought you’d learned by now.”

He kissed your throat again, his lips moving with dark intention, pressing against the sensitive skin, as if marking you in a way no one else would dare. The contrast between his warmth and the cold steel of your cuffs made your skin tingle, the sensations amplified by the blindfold that left you without sight but all the more aware of every other nerve in your body.

You couldn’t see him. But you could feel him. Every inch of him. Every breath, every whisper of his touch. The taste of him lingered on your lips, intoxicating. He was a drug—something dangerous and addictive.

You were so close. So close to giving in. But the game was far from over.

Sylus pulled away, his smile wicked in the shadows, his breath hot against your cheek. "You're so predictable," he taunted, his voice a seductive caress. "But that's what makes this so much fun."

You could feel the heat of his eyes on you, even through the blindfold, and you clenched your fists in anger. "I'm not playing your games," you ground out, your voice shaking with a mix of fear and desire.

"But you are," he murmured, his fingers tracing a line from the base of your throat down to the swell of your breasts. "And you're losing, sweetheart."

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to moan as his thumb brushed over your nipple, already peaked and sensitive. His touch was a brand, searing through the fabric of your shirt. You felt yourself softening, your body betraying you with every stroke.

“Please,” you breathed out, not sure if you were begging him to stop or to go on.

Sylus’ smirk was palpable in the air, his thumb circling your nipple with a cruel precision that had you writhing beneath him. “Please what?” he whispered, his voice a dark caress that sent a shiver down your spine.

You clenched your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he affected you. But your body had its own agenda, your breaths coming faster, your chest rising and falling against the restraint of the handcuffs.

Sylus chuckled, the sound a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very bed you were bound to. "I've been looking forward to this," he murmured, his hand sliding down to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it upward, the fabric dragging against your skin as it revealed the softness of your stomach. "To finally see what's beneath that stoic exterior."

You felt the coolness of the room against your exposed skin, the stark contrast to the heat of his touch. The anticipation was agonizing—a delicious torture that had your senses on high alert. The smell of his cologne, the sound of his breathing, the way the mattress dipped and groaned beneath his weight as he leaned closer—it all painted a picture in your mind that was more vivid than any sight.

“You’re going to regret this,” you whispered, trying to sound menacing, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

“Doubtful,” he chuckled, his voice a dark purr that sent a shiver down your spine. His hand slid up under your shirt, his palm flattening against your stomach, the heat of his skin making you quiver. You tried to keep your body still, but it was an impossible task as his fingers danced over your skin.

With a sudden jerk, Sylus ripped the fabric, the sound of the tearing fabric echoing through the room. The shirt was torn away followed by your bra, leaving your breasts exposed to the cool air. You gasped, the chilly bite of the air making your nipples tighten further under his gaze.

Sylus leaned in, his mouth capturing yours again, his tongue demanding entry as his hand moved higher, cupping your breast with a possessiveness that made your toes curl. You whimpered into the kiss, unable to stop yourself, and you felt him smile against your lips. He knew he had you.

His thumb circled your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, hips moving restlessly against the bed. His other hand moved to your other breast, teasing and taunting until you were panting for more. He broke the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip.

"Is that all you've got?" you spat out, trying to sound brave.

Sylus’ chuckle was a dark promise. “Oh, no. That’s just the appetizer, darling.” He leaned back, his hand still cupping your bare breast, thumb flicking at the peak. You bit your lip to keep from crying out. The pleasure was unexpected, unwelcome, but it was there, pulsing through your veins like a siren’s song.

He took his time, the sound of his belt unbuckling like a gun cocking in the stillness. The zipper on your pants followed, a slow, meticulous descent that made you feel like a butterfly being unwrapped from a cocoon of steel. You could feel the coolness of the air against your skin, the anticipation making your stomach tighten and your pussy throb.

"You're wet," he mused, “you know that?"

With a firm grip, Sylus pulled your pants down to your knees, leaving you exposed. You kicked again, trying to fight the rising tide of need. But he was too fast, too strong. He caught your ankles in his hands and held them down, his fingers digging into your flesh as he bent to kiss the inside of your thigh. His breath was hot, his tongue tracing the path of your veins, moving closer and closer to your center.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me to taste you, to feel you come apart in my mouth.”

You bit your lip, fighting back the whimper that threatened to spill out. “I want you to go to hell,” you managed, though your voice was little more than a whisper.

Sylus’ smile was a wicked curve against your skin. “Now, now,” he said, his breath warm and teasing against the dampness between your thighs. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

You squirmed again, trying to get away, the movement only serving to arch your pelvis further against the bed. You felt the soft brush of his nose against the fabric of your panties, and despite the anger, your body reacted, your hips jerking slightly. It was a betrayal—but it was a betrayal that had your heart racing, your breaths coming in quick, desperate gasps.

The jolt of sensation, and your breath hitched. He took the opportunity to nip at your inner thigh, teeth scraping just hard enough to make you gasp.

“Say it,” he coaxed, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of your pussy through the fabric. The wetness grew, a silent confession to your body’s betrayal. “Say you want me to lick you until you scream my name. Until you forget why you ever wanted to kill me in the first place.”

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the way your body responded to his touch. But the way his tongue slid against the fabric of your panties was a sweet agony that made it difficult to hold onto your anger. The heat of his breath against your clit made your hips buck involuntarily.

"You're a monster," you whispered, but it lacked conviction.

"Darling, you kill solely for the money. I don't think you get to tell me that." Sylus' words were laced in sarcasm. He pressed his lips on the damp spot of your lace panties, sneaking a deep inhale of your arousal before pulling away.

Your body was trembling now, your mind racing with a mix of anger and lust. The way he talked about your past made you feel cheap, used—like you were just a toy to him, but the way he touched you...it was driving you wild.

“You’re right, I’m a monster,” Sylus whispered, his breath a warm caress against the damp fabric. “But so are you, aren’t you?” His voice was a seductive purr, his words a dark confession that seemed to resonate deep within you.

You felt his fingers hook under the elastic band of your panties, sliding them down your legs, exposing you completely. The coolness of the air made you shiver, but it was the heat of his gaze that made your skin burn.

"I don't want this," you lied, trying to ignore the slickness between your thighs.

Sylus' response was a knowing smirk that you could feel rather than see. "Your body says otherwise," he whispered, his thumb stroking your pussy lightly. You bit back a moan, the sensation sending a jolt through your body.

You felt the bed shift as he stood, the loss of his weight making you feel exposed and cold. The silence was maddening, but it was broken by the sound of his clothes dropping to the floor. Your heart raced as you tried to imagine what he was doing, the anticipation making you wetter.

“What are you doing?” you choked out, trying to sound more in control than you felt.

“What does it feel like?” His voice was a dark caress as his fingers found the fabric of your torn blouse. He took his sweet time, brushing the stray fabric with a leisurely confidence that made your heart race even faster. The fabric parted, revealing the swells of your breasts more.

“What does what feel like?” you asked, playing dumb, though you knew exactly what he was referring to.

“The anticipation,” he said, his voice a low growl. “The sweet, sweet taste of victory as it lingers on your tongue. And the thrill of knowing you’re about to get what you’ve been chasing for so long.”

Sylus' words hung in the air like a promise as you felt the coolness of your breasts exposed, the air teasing your nipples into hard, sensitive peaks. His fingers danced the side of your breasts, his movements a silent question. You didn’t respond, but your body did, arching into his touch without your consent.

With a smug chuckle, he tugged at your overstimulated nipples, rolling them gently between calloused fingers. The sensation was jolting, making you gasp as your skin tightened into gooseflesh. But it was his eyes—his hungry, predatory gaze—that had your breath hitching. He studied you like a piece of art, his eyes lingering on the rosy tips of your breasts, the way they pointed to the ceiling in silent invitation.

And then, with a suddenness that took your breath away, he leaned in. His mouth closed over one peak, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud in a dance that was both tormenting and exquisite. You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips, the sound a mix of protest and pleasure. He bit gently, the sting sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core.

You writhed beneath him, the cuffs biting into your wrists as you tried to arch away from the sensation. But Sylus was relentless, his mouth moving to the other breast as his hand took over, his thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching your nipple, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“Please...” you whispered, the word slipping out despite your best efforts.

Sylus’ eyes glinted with triumph, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft pop. He leaned back, his eyes raking over your exposed body with a hunger that was both terrifying and thrilling.

“Please what?” he taunted, his voice a low, seductive murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. “Please stop, or please more?”

Déja vu.

You glared at him, though you knew he couldn’t see it through the blindfold. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you spat.

Sylus’ smirk grew wider. “Immensely,” he admitted, his eyes dark and gleaming. He slid a hand down your stomach, the calloused pads of his fingers leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was both terrifying and thrilling—like a dance with a snake, you weren’t sure if you’d end up charmed or bitten.

The bed shifted, his weight moving to hover over your chest. His thighs bracing against the sides of your breasts, the tip of his cock brushing against your cheek. The smell of him was intoxicating—musk and power, a heady combination that made your mouth water in spite of yourself. You could feel the heat of him, the solid length of him, the blunt reality of his desire pressing into your skin.

“Open up, darling,” Sylus murmured, his voice thick with arrogance. “Let’s see if you can handle what I have to offer.”

With a jerk of your head, you tried to turn away from him, the tip of his cock grazing your cheek. The gesture was one of defiance, but it only served to make him chuckle. His hand wrapped around your jaw, turning your face back to him, his grip firm but not painful.

“You don’t get to dictate the terms here,” he said, his voice a soft command. “You’re mine now.”

You felt his hand tighten on your jaw, his thumb stroking your bottom lip, the pressure of his cock against your cheek insistent. You wanted to bite, to make him feel the same pain you did, but the need to breathe was stronger. You parted your lips, the salty taste of him coating your tongue as he slid inside your mouth.

He groaned, a sound that was pure male satisfaction, and you felt a twinge of anger at the power he had over you. But that anger was quickly drowned by the sensation of his length pushing deeper, filling your mouth, his hand guiding you to take him as he wished.

Your tongue worked against him, reluctant but obedient, as he began to thrust in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had your cheeks hollowing with every movement. You could feel the slickness of your own arousal coating your thighs, the wetness a traitorous confession of how much he affected you.

Sylus’ eyes never left your obscured ones, watching your every reaction with an intensity that made you feel both exposed and desired. The hand that wasn’t guiding your head moved to cup your breast, his thumb teasing the nipple in a rhythm that matched his hips. Each tug sent a pulse of pleasure straight to your pussy, making it difficult to maintain your resolve.

But you wouldn’t give in. You couldn’t. You were a bounty hunter, not a plaything for his amusement.

With a growl, you tried to buck your hips, to push him away, but the movement only served to drive him deeper into your mouth. His grip on your jaw tightened, a silent warning not to bite.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a dark praise that had you clenching your fists. You hated the way your body responded to him, the way your pussy grew wetter with every stroke of his cock.

The hand on your breast moved down, his fingers slipping between your legs to find your clit. The touch was feather-light at first, a mere whisper of sensation that had you gasping around his cock.

You could feel his smirk against your skin even as he began to move faster, his hips pistoning into your mouth, his thumb circling your clit with a skill that was impossible to ignore. You tried to fight it, to hold onto your anger, but the tension was building, the pressure growing with every beat of your heart.

The hand on your jaw released, leaving you gasping for air as he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty. But the relief was short-lived as you felt his wetness coat your cheek, a silent declaration of his intent.

“You want this just as badly as I do,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Admit it.”

You bit back the words that wanted to spill out, the truth that you were dangerously close to begging. Instead, you turned your face away, your jaw clenched tightly.

Sylus chuckled again, a sound that seemed to echo through the room. “Alright, if you want to play hard to get...”

The bed shifted again, and you felt him move away. But before you could take a breath, you felt his mouth replace his hand between your legs, his tongue flicking against your clit with a precision that had your body arching off the bed.

“Sylus!” you gasped, the word torn from your throat despite your efforts to keep it contained.

He chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body. “That’s better,” he murmured, his mouth closing over your clit, sucking and licking with a hunger that was almost terrifying.

Your legs trembled, your toes curling into the bed. The handcuffs bit into your wrists as you tried to find purchase, the pain a strange counterpoint to the pleasure that was building deep within you.

Sylus’ mouth was a weapon, his tongue a masterstroke that painted patterns of desire on your sensitive flesh. He licked and sucked with an intensity that was almost punishing, his teeth grazing your clit with enough pressure to make you jolt but never quite enough to push you over the edge. You could feel his smile against your skin, his enjoyment of your struggle a dark thrill that only added to the tension coiling in your belly.

Your hips moved of their own accord, trying to find the friction you so desperately craved. His fingers slid into your pussy, the invasion both welcome and unwelcome, stretching you as he explored your depths with a curious thoroughness that had you biting your lip to keep from crying out.

His tongue swirled and danced, each pass bringing you closer to the precipice, your body tightening like a spring ready to snap. You felt the beginnings of your orgasm building, a crescendo of sensation that seemed to echo through the very air.

Sylus’ teeth scraped your clit, the sensation sending a bolt of pleasure that had you arching off the bed, a desperate sound ripped from your throat. He didn’t stop, his tongue lapping at your folds, his fingers curling inside you, the rhythm of his mouth and hand in perfect synchronization—creating a salacious symphony of wet slurping and reluctant moans of delight.

Your mind was a whirlwind of sensation, thoughts of escape and anger lost in the storm of pleasure. The only thing that remained was the need, the all-consuming demand for release.

But just as you felt the first wave of your climax building, he pulled away, leaving you panting and trembling with need. The absence of his touch was a physical ache, your body crying out for more.

“Please just…” you begged, the word slipping from your lips despite your best efforts.

Sylus’ laugh was a dark symphony that seemed to fill the room, his eyes gleaming with victory. “Ah, so you do know how to ask nicely,” he murmured, his voice a sweet torture that had you clenching around his fingers.

He didn’t move for a moment, letting your desperation build, the anticipation almost as potent as the pleasure. Then, with a smug smirk, he leaned back in, his mouth closing over your clit with a renewed fervor that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

You were lost now, unable to hold back the tide of sensation. Your body bucked against his mouth, your legs tightening around his head as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. The hand that wasn’t cupping your breast slid down to your waist, his grip firm as he held you in place, his other hand continuing to play with your nipples.

You could feel the orgasm building, the pressure in your core threatening to burst like a dam. You didn’t know if you could take much more—every touch, every lick was like a match thrown on gasoline.

And then, with a final, agonizing stroke, you shattered. The world fell away, leaving only the blissful oblivion of pleasure. You screamed his name as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, pussy juices pouring like ambrosia that made him want to taste you more.

Sylus didn’t let up, his mouth working you through the climax, drawing out every last tremor until you were limp and panting, the handcuffs the only thing keeping you anchored to reality. You felt him shift, his weight leaving the bed, and for a moment, panic gripped you. But then you felt the coolness of a cloth against your face, gently wiping away the sweat and tears.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a dark purr that had your heart racing. “Now, let’s see if you’re as good at giving as you are at receiving, shall we?”

The blindfold was removed, and you blinked against the sudden brightness, your eyes adjusting to the sight of him standing before you. He was completely naked now, his cock erect and the bulbous tip gleaming with precum.

The look in his eyes was a challenge, a promise of what was to come. You took a deep, shuddering breath, your body still humming with the aftermath of your orgasm. You knew what he wanted, knew what he expected of you.

With a smirk, Sylus positioned himself between your spread legs, the tip of his cock brushing against your swollen pussy. Your body was still reeling from the intense orgasm he’d wrung from you, but the anticipation of what was to come had your breath hitching.

He didn’t rush, taking his time to align himself with your sensitized cunt, his eyes never leaving yours. The teasing was a silent declaration of his dominance, a promise of the pleasure—and pain—he had in store for you.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he slid the tip of his cock along the plump folds of your labia, the sensation making you bite your bottom lip to keep from gasping. He watched you, his expression one of dark amusement, his eyes hooded with lust.

The first shallow thrust made you moan, your body already begging for more. But Sylus was in no hurry, pulling out almost immediately and leaving you with only the memory of his thickness. Your eyes narrowed, and you could feel the challenge in his touch. You weren’t going to let him win so easily.

“You’re going to beg for it, aren’t you?” you taunted, your voice a mix of defiance and need.

Sylus chuckled, the sound low and predatory. “We’ll see about that,” he said, leaning in to kiss you again. His tongue danced with yours, the taste of you still on his mouth, making you crave him even more.

The second time he pushed into you, he went deeper, the pressure making you arch your back. You could feel every inch of him, the thickness of his cock stretching you, filling you in a way that was almost painful.

But you wouldn’t beg. Not yet. You’d make him work for it.

He pulled out again, leaving you panting and desperate. The room was filled with the slick sound of his cock sliding along your wetness, a sound that seemed to echo in your ears.

“Please,” you whispered, unable to stop the word from escaping.

Sylus’ eyes gleamed with victory, his smirk turning into a full smile. “There it is,” he murmured, his voice a seductive purr that seemed to resonate in your very bones.

He slammed into you then, the suddenness making you cry out. The handcuffs bit into your wrists, the pain mixing with pleasure, making it impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Sylus’ hips moved in a steady, punishing rhythm, his cock hitting all the right spots, making your body sing with every thrust. You could feel another orgasm building, the pressure mounting with every stroke.

“Is this what you wanted?” you managed to say between gasps. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for?”

His only response was a groan, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration as he drove into you, his teeth gritted with the effort to hold back his own release.

The third time he pulled out, you were ready to beg for more. The need was a living thing inside of you, demanding to be satiated. But you bit your tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

When he entered you again, it was with a force that had your eyes rolling back in your head. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every movement, the friction making your toes curl and your back arch. The hand that had been playing with your breasts moved to your clit, his thumb pressing down with just the right amount of pressure.

Your second orgasm crashed over you like a wave, stealing your breath and your resolve. You screamed his name, the sound echoing through the room as you shuddered around him, your body writhing in pleasure.

You were lost in the sensation, unable to do anything but feel. The handcuffs that had once been a symbol of your captivity now felt like a strange sort of freedom, allowing you to give in completely to the storm of pleasure.

Watching you lose yourself once more to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your veins, Sylus allowed himself an indulgent flush of pride at having brought his enemy to such heights of ecstasy twice in quick succession. With every guttural cry that escaped your trembling lips, he felt himself edging closer towards a gratifying climax.

His rhythm grew erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he pumped into you with a ferocity that sent shockwaves through the very core of your being. The headboard thudded against the wall in a staccato beat, setting the room's atmosphere alight with a primal energy that seemed to feed the flames of your passion.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, those eyes filled with a mix of anger, desire, and something else—something unidentifiable that sent a shiver down his spine. The fire in your gaze only served to stoke his own, making him push deeper, harder, until you were both teetering on the brink of oblivion.

And then, with a final, earth-shattering thrust, Sylus let go.

"Fucking hell…" He panted heavily, his mind momentarily blanked out by sheer physical exertion required to reach his explosive peak. His eyes rolling back in his head as he emptied himself into you, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. Your walls tightened around him, milking every drop of semen from his body.

For a moment, the world stilled, the only sounds the harsh gasps of your shared breathing. Then, with a shudder, Sylus collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his heart pounding against your chest.

One of his hands gently cradled the back of your head as he kissed you, his mouth soft and seeking. The kiss was a stark contrast to the raw power of his earlier touches, a gentle reminder that even in this twisted game of power and domination, there was something deeper—a connection that neither of you could deny.

As your breathing evened out, he pulled back, his gaze searching yours for any signs of regret or fear. But all he found was a smoldering challenge. The fire in your eyes had not been extinguished—it had only been banked, waiting for the next round.

With a smirk that held the promise of future battles and even greater pleasures, Sylus reached up to unlock the handcuffs, his movements surprisingly gentle as he freed you from the headboard. The metal clicked open, the sound echoing in the quiet room like the promise of release.

You didn't move immediately, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. But as the reality of the situation set in, you pushed him off, sitting up with a jerk, the fabric of your torn shirt sticking to your damp skin.

"This isn't over," you murmured, your voice thick with a mix of lust and anger.

Sylus chuckled, his cock still semi-erect and gleaming with the evidence of your passion. "On the contrary," he said, his voice a seductive promise. "It's only just begun."

The air in the suite grew thick with tension, the power dynamics shifting once again as you both stared at each other, the unspoken challenge hanging between you like a live wire.

"You're mine," he said, his voice a low, possessive growl. "You've always been mine, even when you were chasing me across the galaxy."

You stood, the remnants of your clothing falling away to reveal the marks his desire had left on your body—the bruises from his grip, the bite marks on your skin; and especially the creamy white liquid that has started running down your inner thighs. You felt a strange thrill at the sight, a dark thrill that made your stomach clench.

"And now," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours, "now, you're going to find out just how much of a monster I can truly be."

The smile that played on his lips was the most terrifying thing you'd ever seen—promising a night of pleasure and pain that would leave you forever changed, forever marked as his. And deep down, you knew that you were ready for it. You were ready for whatever he had in store.

You took a step towards him, the taste of his dominance still lingering on your tongue. "Bring it," you said, your voice a dare.

Sylus' smile widened, and in that moment, you realized that you had just accepted his challenge. You had stepped into the lion's den, and there was no turning back. The hunt was over—now, it was time to become the prey.

The anticipation of what was to come had you on edge, your heart racing in your chest like a wild animal.

[tsaritza-mika]

Sorry not Sorry guys...

I respect all your inter-companion romance ships, and I hope they bring you joy and endless inspiration, but I have a primal need for something different. I don't need my companions dating each other.

I need them to be the most dysfunctional yet supportive found family they can be

I need Karlach to be literal 'Mama K' and grab Shadowheart and Lae'zel by the scruff and put them on coat hangers, telling them that if they can't say anything nice, then shut the fuck up for five minutes and if they can do that, then she'll come and let them down

I need Astarion and Gale to get into such a spat that all dignity and posh goes out the fucking window, and they devolve into two grown-ass men having a 13-year-old style slap fight while calling each other the harshest of obscenities, but if anyone from the outside tries calling either of them less than fabulous, they join forces and fuck them up

I need Wyll, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel to do each other's hair while discussing all the ways they've taken down various opponents and monsters, and how they would have done things better

I need Jaheira just smacking everyone upside the head whenever they say or do something stupid. Because gods dammit why is she always the only one who can see trouble from a hundred miles away, only to have her perception check fail and stumble right into a trap Halsin had set up to catch food for dinner

I need Astarion to embroider offensive cross stitch into every other companion's tents when he's left behind at camp, for no other reason than he's feeling salty that day

I need Halsin to wildshape into a bear just so he can surprise Karlach with an actual bear and Clive having a tea party with flower crowns and drawings of the horrible ways Gortash will be killed

I need Shadowheart being a petty bitch and letting anyone who was being especially stupid in a fight get a little too close to death as punishment before finally healing them. Because that's just what healers do

I need Gale pranking people with his spells. Use mage hand to yank the rug out from under Lae'zel after she insisted that he was too squishy to fight properly. Casting 'create water' over Shadowheart to ruin her makeup in retaliation for saying last night's stew was a bit bland. Use Telekinesis to fling Astarion off in some random direction because dammit Gale just woke up, and the man needs his coffee before he can properly deal with all of that first thing in the damn morning

I need Lae'zel to take pillow fights just a little too seriously

I need Wyll begging Halsin and Jaheira if they can wildshape into a bear and a shark just so he can ride both of them through the Chionthar while recklessly casting Fireball and Lightning Bolt at the sky, because just think of how cool he would look doing it

[commander-goo]

youu WILL read the monster in the ruins of ship five by @beesinspades NOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[little-forest-goblin]

You know something? I'm feeling feral and I'm super upset (but I understand) about Kay and Mango leaving so why not go a little crazy? This Fandom may be sad but Dammit! We continue out of spite if we must!

My request: (As always, only if you feel comfortable with this. Please never force yourself) Five with a F-Reader. They're relaxing in his apartment one night and while F-Reader is older body wise (mid to late 20s maybe?) She's still younger than him and he wonders why she doesn't want to go out to things like clubs or bars.

She tells him it's not her scene, never felt comfortable there. Besides, she can show him just how much fun staying in really can be. (I'm just saying, I feel like the man would be a fan of oral. Take that however you want.)

Lastly, really just thank you for sticking around. It breaks my heart to see S4 ruining the love others carried for this show. Especially when they put so much heart and mind in it. Maybe the comic coming back will help us feel better.

Hi! This is a really good ask and i will definitely do it. Also yeah it is a bit upsetting that they left i understand that but don’t worry god damn it i’m not leaving until they kill me and drag me off this ship! It is very upsetting they ruined a lot of people with S4.

Lts get feral. I will happily fill in your request. Without further ado here i present you.

———————————————————————

~Lip service~

Warnings: Oral sex (F and M receiving), Switch five and switch reader, details!!, tooth rotting fluff!!!

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———————————————————————

It was yet a late night in fives apartment. The tv was on a boring comedy show that honestly you dont think anyones ever heard of. It was one of those cheesy ones with the laugh track in the back and grainy visuals. The jokes in the show just weren't landing and the laugh track would be played at odd times where it wasn't funny. It's like a comedy show made on a budget. 

Five sat in the living room with you just watching this shitty show that decided to grace their presence. 

On the coffee table were two plates and a now empty box of pizza they had ordered a while ago. Nobody felt like cooking and pizza has been on their mind for a little while. 

Five sighed and looked over at you staring at you as you rested your cheek on your fist watching the shitty show until you looked at him 

“What?”

“Why do you never wanna leave the house?” he said suddenly like the thought has been eating away at him

you raised a brow before chuckling. “All my stuff including my bed is there.”

he smiled and shook his head “Jesus christ you know that's not what i meant” 

you chuckled and shrugged “I don't know i guess i just never like going out”

he made a hum of acknowledgement before turning back to the TV watching that dull ass show again. No thank you. He looked back at you “But don't you ever want to go out sometimes? What about a club?”

you looked back at him from the TV show “I do like to go out sometimes but i'd rather be at home. As for clubs i just don't enjoy them”

He was a little surprised. He may be physically in his twenties and mentally he is this odd mix of old and young but he knew very well that usually in your twenties you want to go out and party. Most of them did. 

He turned right back to you “Why do you never wanna go out? You know, meet new people? Find someone?” 

you chuckled and turned back to him “Yeah cause i'd love to bump and grind against a random person i do not know. That sounds so appealing” you said with a hint of amusement and genuinity

that got a chuckle out of him. He had to admit the club was not exactly the best place to find love anyway. He also was pretty relieved. It might be selfish but it's not like he is keeping you here against your will but if he ever saw someone against you like that he doesn't think the jealousy would be maintained. More than likely it would be out there for the world to see. A dark green jealousy monster. He kinda wonders if you feel the same.

You looked back at the shitty TV show and leaned your head on your closed fist. “I'm starting to think you enjoy this show with how much its on”

he rolled his eyes “No it's just a time filler. Background noise, you know?”

“pfft yeah right. I think you like this show. No shame in that” 

he scoffed “Says the one who is a hermit in the house staying there all the time”

you tsk’d and turned to look at him leaning closer “Says the one who can't control his drinking”

he was shocked at that but not offended “That was a low blow even for you!” 

you laughed “That wasn't anything ill show you a low blow” admittedly when you said that it didn't sound right from the beginning. You saw him smirk and your face heated up. You tsk’d “Wipe the stupid grin off your face”

he chuckled “No no please continue show me this low blow”

“Fuck you” you mumbled he grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. his eyes are dark and intense. It almost made you nervous. Almost. 

“I should fix that naughty mouth of yours for you. You keeping giving me all that lip service and im gonna fuck it right out of you” he said with his eyes locked on yours never moving out of sight. He said it with dominance but with wiggle room for you to say no.

You were paralyzed for a minute. It almost shocked you. Again ALMOST. you looked up at him and your eyes intensified. You had to admit his offer was making your panties wet and it wasn't like you didn't like him, you just never thought he liked you. 

Even through all the bullshit and all the problems and apocalypse after apocalypse you were there for him and he was there for you. Although there were times you wanted to strangle each other to death. 

You smirked and grabbed his hand and moved them from your jaw. You smirked and climbed into his lap which had him a little surprised and flustered. You instead moved his hands to your hips as you say your pretty ass down right over his dick. “Tell me to get off and I will.”

he swallowed. God he did not want you to move. His dick was already hardening feeling your core right against his cock “St-stay”

You smiled softly and then grinded causing you to let out a little breath and for five to moan in relief. You could feel his dick hardening in his pants probably leaking.

he panted holding onto your hips as he tried to get you to go faster “B-baby please…”

“ah ah ah not so fast i'm setting the pace” you grinned evilly and went slow making him let out a keening whine. 

You smirked climbing off and in between his legs “I'm boring? i'll show i'm a good time” 

he panted as he watched you unbutton his pants “Oh fuck y/n” 

(Fives POV)

her hands wrapped around my cock. God she looked so pretty like this. I couldn't help but let out groans as she pumped my cock nice and slow at first doing this to drive me crazy and to break me. Fuck it felt so good but not enough.

I want to break. I want to be hers. I want her to be mine. Fuck i need her. I wasn't usually the submissive one but the feeling rose up in my belly along with pleasure and need. I can't help but need her. She meant so much to me.

I dint think she understands how much she means to me sticking with me through everything and helping ne through the worst of the fucking worst. She was my ride or die.

“Fuck y/n please go faster” i panted out not able to hold in my begging. With an evil grin she squeezed my cock a little giving it a delicious pressure and then stroked giving it that delicious friction. 

I was keening my hands gripping onto the sofa “F-fuck just like that. i need you so badly, baby”

I looked down at her as she brought herself to my leaking dick. It slowly leaked precum from the tip and slid down the sides of it. 

I watched as she kissed from the base of my cock to the tip before licking up the length of it gathering the precum just to taste for herself.

(End of fives pov. Your pov)

You had just kissed the length of his cock watching him squirm at the feeling. You watched as his back arched softly as you licked up the length of his cock giving him a smirk “That feel good baby?” you said sweetly

he nodded his eyes needy and his moans sweet and whiny

you tsk’s and slowed your movements “I need you to use your words baby” 

he panted “Y-yes it feels so good. D-don't stop”

you felt triumph in your chest. You smiled up at him “Such a good boy. Good boys deserve a reward.”

you took the tip of his cock in your warm wet mouth making him let out a surprised gasp and his back arch. Hard. 

you slid your mouth up and down his cock slowly at first. Flattening your tongue for him. He was in heaven. Relief fulfilling him. But relief soon turned into loud needy moans as you really started bobbing your head. Your tongue worked wonders on him. your hands pumped whatever you couldn't reach. His hand went to your hair in desperation to hold onto something

“Please do more! oh god please!” he whined out making you go faster

his stomach began to tighten like a cord pulled taut and was continuously being pulled slowly. He looked down at you and watched how you worked him like how no other woman could. His cock disappearing and reappearing in and out of your warm wet mouth. His cock glistening with a mix of precum and your spit. 

just watching you made the feeling in his lower stomach become tighter. You looked up at him as you pulled up and worked his tip with your tongue. It was his undoing. The eye contact with you was too much. 

“F-fuck y/n!”

you knew what that meant. You went back down bobbing up and down really working him which became his undoing. You felt his cock twitch and throb until white ropes of his essence spilled into your awaiting mouth and relaxed throat. You swallowed it all down. His hand on your head keeps you there. His head had fallen back, his mouth hung open in a silent moan. He saw stars behind his eyelids. 

you pulled off looking up at him smugly. You felt quite accomplished and incredibly wet for having just rocked this man's world.

he looked down at you “ y/n…you're amazing.”

you chuckled “What cause i just sucked your dick like a pro?”

he smiled as he caught his breath. He pulled you into his lap and kissed you a little slowly since he was a little wiped out from that. He felt like you just sucked his soul out of him. you happily kissed back which quickly became heated again. He laid you back down and kissed uo your jaw, down your neck and chest and down your body coming to your pants. he looked up at you asking permission which you of course nodded a yes. He was quickly tearing them things off leaving you in your panties which made him incredibly pleased.

“God, you're so pretty. I can’t believe i can call you mine” 

you raised a brow your heart nonetheless leaped. You watched as he kissed your thighs reverently “You never asked if i could be yo-“

he obviously didn't wanna hear it cause he buried his face between your legs making you gasp. “Oh holy- FIVE!”

His clever tongue was working on you like a starved man who needed a drink of water in the desert. 

his tongue flattened and licked you from your slit to your clit making you shiver. His tongue did that for a while giving you the same teasing treatment you had done to him to drive him wild. your hand shot out to his hair. “Oh five please!” 

he smirked against your pussy “please what princess?” he said. It was muffled and let off vibrations making you gasp softly 

“God damn it you know what!” you weren't quite ready to relinquish the high of control you had

he pulled off his chin covered in your honey. “If you don't tell me than i guess you don't want me to please you”

you bit your lip and as he began to pulled away you broke “Fuck please fucking eat me out five! I need you so badly!!”

he smirked “That's what i thought” he buried his head again and was latched into your clit for seconds making you gasp and your back arch up. his mouth sucked and licked at your clit in a frenzy.

His lips wrapping around your clit and gently tugging and sucking. He had to admit he was getting a bit pussy drunk. He loved how you tasted. He could stay down here and die if you would let him. He would die completely happy too.

your moans echoed in the room “Holy hell yes! God just like tha-“ you were cut off by let out a gasp as he nibbled on your clit a little letting a soft shot of pleasurable pain go through you. It was like a dull ache that had you keening for more. He kept doing that and soothing it with his tongue making you desperate and whine for  more.

He looked up at you loving how you looked in pleasure. It was satisfying for him to see you so satisfied. His tongue was then thrusting into you making you scream in pleasure. your legs threatened to close around his head but his hands came to your thighs holding you open which made you squirm cause it kept him in the spot that had you seeing stars. 

your walls began to flutter and clench. His hand moved to let his thumb rub your clit as his tongue thrusted in and out of you. You squirmed and moaned in need of release. 

“Cum for me y/n come on. Come on beautiful” he praised. the vibrations going through you being the last thing that made you fall over the edge

your back arched up and your head fell back and your mouth hung open as a loud moan left you as he kept going until there was nothing left but overstimulation and twitches in your thigh.

he slowly drew away and wiped his mouth. Looking at you with desire, love and so much more. 

you panted and your back went back against the bed. You opened your eyes looking up at him. He smiled softly and crawled over you. You leaned up on your elbows and kissed him which he happily returned the kiss to you.

you both stayed like that for a while until you and him pulled away softly. You couldn't help but wonder what this made you both. You really hoped you liked the answer

“Five, what does this make us?”

he stayed silent almost in thought which made you nervous and begin to ramble

“cause i don't want this to ruin us and i don't want this to be a one time only thing cause i really like you five i-“

he kissed you softly to shut you up and then pulled off looking you in the eyes with genuine love 

“I'm glad you like me too, y/n. I don't want this to be a one time thing either and i don't want to be just friends. I wanna be more”

you smiled tears of joy coming to your eyes. “Will you be mine five?”

he smiled softly “You already have my heart why would i ever say no?”

you chuckled “God your cheesy”

“only for you” he said smiling as he leaned in and kissed you again.

you and him were wrapped in each other's love. For one another. Something no one could take from you and something nobody has been able to successfully do. 

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Thank you for your request dear reader! I am so glad you gave me this request and any more would be greatly appreciated! I love you and be safe out there 😘💋

[beesinspades]

finally finished this piece inspired by my creature vash (vashwood) fic, the monster in the ruins of ship five, which is now complete! 💜

close-up on the eepy sleepies:

[maxislvt]

helloo, first off i love your work ! second, this may or may not be a request but- imagine dark!wanda x spidey!reader, post no way home where r is one of the avengers sent to stop wanda on her rampage. r gets captured by wanda though and turns out wanda remembers r’s identity. she had a crush on r since civil war and now that she has r all to herself…😳

“i’m going to ruin you”

warnings: womb tattoos, coercion, manipulation, spiderperson typical quips in really bad situations, no smut

got a little carried away, whoops!

The last few months of your life have been awful.

Life had been pretty stable for the most part. Trying to balance college, being a superhero duo with your adoptive brother, and the newfound freedom of adulthood was a lot to say the least. Then some big alien freak came along and ruined everything. You and Peter left Aunt May behind for five years.

For better or for worse, you and Peter didn't age. Peter still had his senior year ahead of him and you were only 24. So you both tried to make the most of that.

You were supposed to chaperone your little brother's senior trip through Europe. All you wanted to do was help Peter enjoy the last few months of youth he had before being shipped off to college. Of course, fate had other plans and the trip was interrupted by another cataclysmic event. One unpredictable turn after another. Then suddenly everyone knew your secret identity.

Quentin Beck was a hero and you were half of the duo that killed him.

One edited video and suddenly the whole world was against you and your brother. It was a target on your back you had no way of getting off your back. The magical escape you thought you'd found was nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing. Universes nearly collided. Three versions of your brother. Two other versions of you. Villains the two of you tried and failed to rehabilitate. A moment of complete darkness for your brother A dead aunt. So much fighting. So much pain. All of it for nothing. At the end of it all, everyone was forced to forget about you and Peter. No more full rides to dream colleges and no more "Amazing Spider Kids". It was just the two of you in a shitty Downton apartment at a community college neither of you really wanted to attend, but that didn't stop you two from trying to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

That need to protect everything and everyone seemed to get you in bigger trouble.

America Chavez. Barely 15 years old, alone in the multiverse, and no one to trust. Her powers and life experience were beyond you — you couldn't even take credit for defeating whatever monster that was chasing her — but you wanted her safe. You foolishly thought that it'd be as simple as finding a hero that could mentor her. Magic wasn't your strong suit. Yet, you still helped America try to escape the claws of the Scarlet Witch along with Doctor Strange.

In the midst of a heated chase, the witch's focus seemed to have shifted. Your mask was ripped by a piece of metal and you could feel the witch's eyes on you. Since you were more focused on protecting America, you decided to send The Scarlet Witch on a goose chase. You and a magical body double of the girl. Unfortunately, you could only run for so long. You didn't bother fighting when you were captured. All you could do was put on a brave face as you were somehow teleported back to your universe. You assumed the witch had gotten a decent portion of America's powers. That worried you, but unfortunately you had to prioritize your personal safety for a moment.

The witch must've known you were too weak to run away because she didn't even bother tying you down. She just stood over you and examined your face. You were nervous and confused to say the least. "So, uh, do you always stand over sacrificial young adults in such a compromising way or am I special?" You quipped. It was a real misfortune your mouth tended to run more when you were nervous. Your heart almost exploded when she reached out for your mask. "Hey, hey! Have some respect for a man's secret identity, will you?" You shouted, trying to push her hands away.

Automatic reflexes were nothing against magic and you were unmasked and it sent your spider senses spiraling.

"You remember me."

"Of course,I remember you. Do you not remember me?"

The airport. Tony had you and Peter flown out for a top secret field mission, that's what he told you at least. You weren't sure what you were fighting for, but you remember the battle clearly. Some guy had grown to a hundred feet tall. You fought some guy with a metal arm. Then someone suddenly started throwing cars. They had all missed you and went straight for Tony, but it was still scary. After the battle, you learned the name of all the people you fought. The weird one, as Tony described her, was named Wanda Maximoff. It's scary how your life had become so eventful that you'd forgotten that whole experience. Well, you couldn't blame yourself for not recognizing her considering the drastic change in her appearance.

"Yeah," You said bitterly, "you threw a car garage at my mentor."

"Your mentor made the bombs that destroyed my home country and had me jailed for powers I didn't ask for."

That was the first time a villain had left you truly speechless. Tony wasn't like that. Was he?It was a lot to process and that wasn't made any easier with the icy cold hand caressing your cheeks. "If you're going to drop an information bomb, can you at least give me a second to —" Your sentence was cut short by her thumb slipping into your mouth. Wanda had managed to slip past your spider senses. It was odd considering you were definitely not calm nor did you trust her.

"I figured he didn't bother telling you the whole truth," Wanda's voice had gotten low and seductive. Her thumb pressed down on your tongue as she continued to monologue. Your squirming didn't phase her at all. "I could hear your thoughts the moment you stepped foot in the airport. So loud and frantic, but nothing but innocence and desire for approval. It's a shame I wasn't able to see you again after that. I was lost in a hex of my own deepest desires and do you know what was there?" A smile spread across her lips as she felt you relax out of curiosity. "The two of us, happily married with two children, and living in New Jersey."

The statement made you jump and start fighting again. Married with kids was definitely not on your list of goals in the next few months, living in New Jersey just sounded dreadful. You managed to get her thumb out of your mouth just long enough to speak. "I'm sorry to hear about your crazy magic thing, I'm not ready to settle down yet. Maybe come back in six years once I've graduated, yeah?"

Wanda binded your wrists with magic. Her hand came down on your cheek with all the strength she had. Despite her frustration, she was happy to see you were still as witty and innocent as the day you two met. "I think I have a plan you'll like." She smirked as she summoned the darkhold. It opened on its own. The book turned towards you and translated itself so you could understand it. "Your innocence," she said before ripping you suit, "and your body in exchange for the girl's safety."

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. It certainly wasn't a fair deal, even more unfair once you looked over the spell presented to you. A womb tattoo magically etched into your skin that would give Wanda complete control over your libido, orgasms, and a bunch of other depraved things you hadn't even heard of before. Wanda definitely wasn't the woman you imagined would take your virginity, but it wasn't an offer you could refuse. Strange wasn't strong enough to defeat Wanda and letting America die wasn't an option in your mind.

You put on as brave a face as you could before speaking, "If you so much as lay a finger on that girl, the deal is off." Your voice faltered at the feeling of Wanda's lips pressed against your neck. A moan nearly escaped your lips when Wanda's hands began exploring your body. The skin of your lower stomach began to tingle. This was it. This was how you lost your virginity.

Wanda's lips curled into a smile. A real one that showed off her perfectly white bunny teeth. She was no longer concerned with America. You were all she needed now.

"I'm going to ruin you," She whispered, "and you're going to enjoy every moment of it."

You wanted her to be wrong. You wanted so badly to hate the way her hands felt against your bruised skin and the softness of her lips on your neck, but you couldn't. Months without affection left your body desperate for any form of human touch. It is shameful and almost disgusting.

"Shh, I'll treat you right. Just be good for me."

[hypermoyashi]

Happy International Ace Day!! In honor of the day, I'm going to recommend some amazing Trigun Ace Fics for anyone who wants to add more ace content to their fic reading.

First off, anything created for @acetrigunweek is gonna scratch the itch, so please consider checking out and supporting the works created for the event!

Then, we have some specific recs from creators (please check the tags on ao3 before reading as needed):

cherished, mended thing by @markcampbells (T, f/f, merylmilly, Asexual Meryl)

the mortifying ordeal by @markcampbells (T, genfic, meryl&wolfwood, Asexual Meryl)

molten outlaw by @terkaterr (T, poly, polygun, Asexual Vash)

The Ear Rings True by Plumerias_of_BlueMaroon (T, f/m, genfic, queerplatonic vash&meryl, ace4ace, Asexual Vash, Asexual Meryl)

say you're here and it's all over by @markcampbells (M, genfic, vash&meryl&wolfwood, Asexual Meryl)

laughter lines by @beesinspades (E, m/m, vashwood, ace4ace, Asexual Vash, Greyace Wolfwood)

cooking is love made visible by @markcampbells (T, genfic, queerplatonic meryl&milly, Asexual Meryl)

i used to live alone before i knew you by @markcampbells (T, m/m, vashwood, t4t, ace4ace, Asexual Vash, Asexual Wolfwood)

three bodies in a fading line by @beesinspades (M, poly, mashwood, Asexual Vash)

you recognize love after the fact by @markcampbells (T, genfic, meryl&vash, merylmilly, vashwood, Asexual Vash, Asexual Meryl)

the monster in the ruins of ship five by @beesinspades (T, m/m, vashwood, ace4ace, Asexual Vash, Greyace Wolfwood -- per writer, not explicitly depicted but intended)

Then, we have my own fics that feature various ace headcanons:

Make it to Daybreak (M, m/m, f/f, genfic, vashwood, vash&meryl, merylmilly, vash&meryl&wolfwood&milly, ace4ace, Asexual Meryl, Acespec Vash, Greyace Wolfwood -- retconned/intended/in upcoming chapters)

The Witch and Her Demon (M, f/nb, merylmilly, Asexual Meryl)

Chosen (T, f/f, merylmilly, Asexual Meryl)

Our Home (T, genfic, brad&luida, luida&vash, Aroace Luida)

The Stars Bloom From You (M, genfic, m/m, vashwood, t4t, Greyace Wolfwood)

Dance like no one is watching (T, f/f, merylmilly, Asexual Meryl)

After the end of the world, there is you (T, f/f, merylmilly, t4t, Asexual Meryl)

A Good Feeling (T, f/f, m/m, genfic, vashwood, meryl&vash, merylmilly, Asexual Meryl, Acespec Vash)

Make Light Work (M, genfic, m/m, vashwood, brad&vash, meryl&vash, t4t, Demi Vash)

Aces in Space (M, genfic, m/m, vashwood, t4t, ace4ace, Demi Vash, Greyace Wolfwood)

What love is. (M, poly, genfic, queerplatonic polygun, mashwood, Aroace Milly)

Most Powerful Forces (T, f/f, merylmilly, Asexual Meryl)

(Un)conditional (M, poly, mashwood, ace4ace4ace, Asexual Meryl, Demi Vash, Greyace Wolfwood)

Take Me or Leave Me (T, genfic, m/m, vash&knives, vashwood, t4t, Demi Vash)

The Next Destination (T, m/f, vashmeryl, ace4ace, Asexual Meryl, Demi Vash)

Thank you to all the wonderful creators who've made ace content, and please check the works listed out and give the creators some love! Make your own rec lists, too, if you'd like!

Happy Ace Day everyone!

[monstersdownthepath]

Mega Milestone Monster: Blood Queen of the Kuru

CR 12

Chaotic Evil Medium Humanoid

Isles of the Shackles, pg. 17 (Art is from Brenochadams on Deviantart, though they've deactivated; this pic was salvaged via the Wayback Machine)

It's been a while since our last Mega Milestone, hasn't it? And compared to the ones we've seen thus far, the Blood Queen hardly measures up to any of them. They've all been CR 20+ creatures with demigod (or, in one case, nigh-divine) power! But the Blood Queen here was chosen for two reasons: The first is that she's one of my favorite monsters in Pathfinder, and the second is because of the distant yet terrible shadow she has cast on my Skulls and Shackles campaign, a campaign which has been going strong for a little over five years at this point. I've held off on reviewing the Blood Queen as not to spoil anything for my players just in case they ever encounter her, but this year--with the party rapidly approaching the final book in the AP--I have decided to go ahead with it.

For some background, Skulls and Shackles takes place in the titular Shackles, a chain of islands on the northwest quarter of Garund, a comparatively tiny speck on the map compared to the Eye of Abendego just to its north, a titanic, perpetual hurricane that throws devastating oceanic storms in every direction with alarming regularity. It is a haven for pirates seeking the lucrative trade routes entering the Inner Sea, who use the Eye to propel their ships north and escape reprisal back south, but as time passed, the area became increasingly settled by people from all walks of life and from all points of the globe--though Garundi travelers are the most common--who wish to, for one reason or another, leave their homelands.

This population of pirates and settlers has had an impact on the people who were here first, the ones who lived among the island chains long before more "modern" people began to move in. Some have moved to the smaller, less-inhabited islands, while some relocated to quiet villages along the coastlines or isolated deep within the various jungles on the larger islands. Some assimilated, some fled the Shackles entirely... and then there's the cursed Kuru, who were far from the only ones to retaliate against the settlers, but were arguably the most "successful," beseeching eldritch forces left behind in the Ghol-Gani ruins they inhabited to transform their warriors (and, eventually, their entire population) into red-eyed, cannibalistic superhumans. Despite the horror of their transformation and the dark appetite it has given them, the Kuru have managed to retain an entire chain of islands along the southwestern Shackles for themselves, a chain that has come to be known as the Cannibal Isles.

it is on the largest of the isles that the Blood Queen can be found, this foul "living goddess" of the Kuru said to be responsible for their transformation in the first place, calling upon the power of abandoned gods centuries ago to perform the transformative rite. Stories abound in the Shackles of people meeting the Blood Queen, either in person or via her bizarre Surrogates, Kuru who appear to be entirely insensate and helpless unless she is projecting her consciousness into them, which turns them into a nexus of profane power that grants nearby Kuru impossible strength and fortitude... but none of these stories are true. There is exactly one man in the whole of creation who has seen the Blood Queen in person--a legless, traumatized vagrant in the Shackles city of Quent who rarely leaves the bars he finds himself in if he can help it--and he will tell any party brave enough to seek him out the truth of the matter: The "Blood Queen" present among the Kuru public is no more than a mouthpiece for the true abomination, a creature of such nightmarish power that she is the true Milestone Monster, not the 12th-level high priest or the 10th-level high priestess whose 'stats' and page number I posted above. For the five people in my Shackles game who have read this far, this is your last chance to avoid being spoiled on the horrible truth.

THE TRUE BLOOD QUEEN

CR 23

Chaotic Evil Gargantuan Outsider

Isles of the Shackles, pg. 44-45

When the scholars of the ancient Ghol-Gani empire sought knowledge from beyond the safety of sanity and known space, it was one such emissary sent by foul and nameless gods, "gifting" the population of cyclopses with vile powers and profane knowledge that sent them spiraling into depravity and, eventually, collapse. Even now, it remains deep within a grandiose temple whose every entrance and exit was fortified to protect its larval self from the assassins of rival factions... though now that it has ballooned into a grotesque, towering abomination, those very same defenses prevent it from leaving, much to the fortune of all beings in the Shackles. Abandoned by the very gods it once served and trapped in a temple venerating them, the Blood Queen has become something of a cruel god itself, ruling over its tiny sliver of the Shackles and the lives of all the Kuru it created from its kingdom-turned-tomb.

Its rage at being abandoned and frustration with being trapped within its own throne room means that any Kuru which disappoint it are just as likely to be thrown into the pit as any captured sacrifices are so it can properly vent its timeless anger. Any being thrown in is often toyed with and tormented for hours before they're granted the mercy of death. Most beings meeting the Blood Queen face-to-face aren't anywhere close to powerful enough to even harm it, let alone kill it, and those who ARE, it's often prepared for. Those aforementioned Surrogates are the hosts for a parasitic and telepathic link which allows the thing to both communicate through them AND utilize their senses to keep track of the goings-ons around its islands. The unmoving Surrogates are carried around on palanquins or sat in thrones with commanding views of their surroundings, assuring the Queen sees everything it needs to and assuring that there are no surprises coming from anywhere. In addition to the surveillance the Surrogates offer, they also allow the horror to form a powerful Blood Link with any Kuru nearby, driving up to 23 Hit Dice worth of Kuru into a rage and granting them a +4 morale bonus to their Str and Con scores while also insulating them from further mental invasions, rendering them immune to mind-affecting effects. Any affected Kuru are also prompted to make a DC 28 Will save, and failing this causes them to become completely enslaved to the Blood Queen's will while the Blood Link remains in place, allowing it total command of their bodies and wills.

Dangerous enough because it allows the beast to wordlessly coordinate them, but it's even worse if the Kuru in question was trying to escape the Blood Queen's grasp somehow. Kuru are a playable ancestry in Shackles campaigns, and it's even said that one of the Cannibal Isles furthest away from the Queen's temple is home to a tribe of Kuru that is slowly breaking away from its control and learning to control their hideous appetites... but a single failed save is all the abomination needs to seize total control of them again, ruining their chances at ever being anything but its playthings. There's no restrictions on what sorts of commands it can give to linked victims, so if it finds out they're plotting against it, it can have them walk into the ocean, the blades of loyalists... or right into its mouth, which can lead to a fate worse than death. We'll get to THAT later, though.

Any being battling the Blood Queen will have to contend with not only the beast itself, but its raging sycophants, giving it an upper hand on action economy as they come flooding into the gore-slicked cathedral to protect their progenitor. It's no Time Stop into Summon, but these Kuru minions very often have class levels, and if nothing else can serve as roadblocks between it and an adventuring party or offer it support... not that it particularly needs support, because the number of creatures in all the Shackles who approach the bloody demigod in power can literally be counted on one hand, though without the safety net of any divine patrons, the Blood Queen takes very few risks. The opening move against any creature that prove it's capable of harming it is likely going to be its 1/day Mass Suffocation, a spell capable of killing an entire party in a single shot if they fail their save, with anyone who survives the initial blast needing to make DC 32 Fortitude saves every round for 23 rounds to avoid death.

Hurting the thing at all to prompt that dramatic counterattack is going to be a challenge for the average party; the Blood Queen has DR 15/Epic and Lawful in an environment where carrying an Axiomatic weapon is inadvisable, and its Regeneration 10 is only shut off by a Good-aligned weapon... again, in an environment where players are expected to be pirates, if not cutthroats. It's also CR 23 in an Adventure Path that ends at level 15, which should be a hint enough that the Blood Queen is meant to be invincible threat the players are supposed to escape, not bravely face. I think if they don't get the message when their weapons fail to damage it (if not because of the DR, then certainly because of its 38 AC), then they'll probably figure it out quickly when anything their spellcaster tries to do crashes into 38 Spell Resistance, and the thing's +24 to Will saves and +28 to Fortitude saves will likely shield it from anything that somehow manages to get past. It's also utterly immune to Electricity and Sonic, normally very reliable forms of damage, AND it has immunity to all mind-affecting effects. Combined with 120ft of Blindsight, there are very, very few tricks a player can pull to distract the beast from its wicked games.

One of the most reliable, however, is simply leaving as fast as possible. The stone caverns that surround the abandoned aberration's throne room are littered with traps, wrathful dead, and who knows what else, but they're LESS dangerous than the beast they were meant to guard, and it's too large to fit through the hallways out. Despite having towering Fort and Will saves, the worm has a pathetic +9 to Reflex saves and a movespeed of only 10ft (difficult terrain may as well be impassable), allowing players to outrun it and/or set up impediments it will have to navigate through or around before it can attack them. This is NOT a sure thing, as the monstrosity still has a few ways to keep anyone from fleeing its torturous ministrations, including the ability to loose a Horrifying Bellow up to 3 times a day that can potentially paralyze anyone within 30ft for 1d4 rounds if they fail a DC 34 Will save. In addition to this painful scream and the Kuru minions called to bar the easy ways out, the Blood Queen has a handful of potent spells in its repertoire to both protect itsself and stop sacrifices from escaping, such as Cacophonous Call and Deeper Darkness 5/day each to nauseate a target for minutes at a time or make the arena impossible to navigate, respective. At 3/day, it can use the incredibly dangerous Greater Command to force any creature to follow a one-word order for 23 rounds, such as preventing a caster from talking, a frontliner from holding their weapons, or ordering a ranged attacker to get within its formidable 40ft threat radius (20ft space/20ft reach) so it can rip them apart without needing to move.

The Blood Queen's melee radius is a nightmare, with 12 entire attacks to dole out against anyone in its reach. Its monstrous bite and flailing, stinging tentacles both deal 2d6+10 damage, but the tails also deal 2d6 Electricity damage AND have a critical hit range of 19-20 alongside Bleeding Critical to tack an extra 2d6 bleed damage, allowing for potentially startling burst damage and some damage over time as well... but few things are quite as startling as the cluster of biting, grasping tendrils that can flick out of its mouth, up to six of the limbs lashing out for 2d8+5 damage with every strike and potentially Grabbing any unlucky soul they hit. Any creature grappled by the Blood Queen needs to get out as fast as possible, because if they can't, they may end up swallowed whole and subjected to that "fate worse than death" I mentioned a few paragraphs back. Its churning gut deals 15d6 Acid damage every round to everything inside, but if the horror so wishes, any unconscious creature in its stomach (either because it was swallowed while unconscious, or fell unconscious from the Acid damage) can be moved to a special chamber within its body where it no longer takes damage. 1d4 rounds later, the creature is ejected from the opposite end, helpless within an opaque, slimy cocoon.

At any time, the Queen can cause one of these cocoons to rupture, dealing 6d6 Acid damage to the creature within and all other creatures within 15ft, potentially killing the target outright. If, instead, the victim is allowed to undergo an Unholy Gestation for a full 24 hours, the cocoon can be split open to reveal a brand new Kuru Surrogate, another holy figure among the Kuru. Another pair of eyes for the Blood Queen. Another victim stripped of their mind, their soul pitifully trapped within their own living body, unable to escape until death releases them... or they receive a Heal spell or similar. But the chances of that, given that they were allowed to exist near the Blood Queen for 24 hours, are slim to none.

There is some mercy from Paizo, a mercy I can only assume was given because the Blood Queen is meant to be a setpiece monster: that 10ft movespeed. It also lacks Combat Reflexes or Stand Still, and even if it did it doesn't have a Dexterity modifier to speak of, so a party member that can tank a single AoO opens the way for the rest of the party to escape the horror's threat radius and force it to creep glacially towards everyone to try to re-engage or burn its standard action using its spells. ALL of its ranged options are spell-likes meant to pull people back into its melee, and though the DCs are high, they're not unbeatable or impossible to dispel if they do land. The most major decision that needs to be made is whether to go down into the ancient ruins, or risk climbing back out while being shot at by Kuru priests eager to witness their goddess feed. In most cases? You want to go down.

Being caught and fed to the Blood Queen presents a very unique situation to a party, where the begin a dungeon delve in the chamber of the final boss and have to fight their way backwards through the dungeon because they're likely nowhere near powerful enough to meaningfully harm it. The least painful way out is down, through the winding tunnels of long-forgotten ruins meant to venerate sadistic, alien gods... but before they can even think about what horrors may lay below, they have to escape the worst of them all, the one right in their faces! The first few rounds are likely going to be spent in a panic, hoping and praying the party can make their saves against the Greater Command and have some way to navigate the Deeper Darkness, and things aren't going to get any easier from there... because even if they DO escape the ruins, they still need a way off the Cannibal Isles, or the nightmare is just going to start all over again.

You can read more about it here.

[madam-o]

Re the weird divide in the Beetlejuice fandom, which I really don't get

Fandom is so strange. Just liking Beetlejuice himself as a character has invited all manner of unusual kinks and personal interests into the fandom, and hey, the more the merrier. Beetlefans and netherlings are an assembly of interesting weirdos, so like, you do you. And obviously, this means that you should try not to judge or make assumptions about others based on your own feelings about their interests. Riiiight?

So, Beetlebabes as a ship has been around since the beginning of the fandom, and it certainly seems likely not to be going anywhere with the sequel. Now, my own personal stance on the pairing lies straight in the middle. I think Lydia and Beej have a beautiful friendship in the animated series and musical. They're such a great comedic duo and there's something very pure and sweet about this girl and her bug-man. Their relationship in the musical IS colored by the fact that they're both using and tricking each other a lot of the time, but they seem to have a mutual respect on this point and don't let it ruin their friendship, well until the topic of moms comes up, anyway.

In the movie, it's more complicated. BJ is motivated primarily by his desire to be free and couldn't care less about Lydia's problems. He also gets just a tad creepy with Lydia, though he's not over the top about it. He claims that he thinks that she "really understands me", which is a frickin weird thing to say about a kid who you talked to for like five minutes. But the pervy implications are kept to a minimum so as not to drive the movie into darker territory. His motivations are still kept as primarily a green card thing, although the viewer is still pretty grossed out by the forced, child-bride marriage.

Re BJ, I don't see him as a human or someone who really follows human rules. He's a supernatural creature who has a vague, outsider's understanding of what being human means. Even interpreting him as a ghost and not a demon, he's too different from a human to remember what being one is like. In the musical and cartoon, he relates to Lydia from a child's pov, but tries to behave like an adult with the Maitlands. He's neither, though. He's an unliving, essentially immortal Thing. And while Lydia clearly has a lot of affection for "her monster", she's not exactly into this gross, stinky, creepy old guy. As for BJ, he's very attached to Lydia, perhaps unhealthily so, but he's not being a sexual predator with her.

However, as a Beetlefan, I've seen that it's pretty natural to pair the two up romantically. I certainly shipped them as a kid. And yeah, it's kind of a weird ship, but Beetlejuice as a concept is just weird, period. Weirdness and age gaps are hardly anything new or unique in any part of the internet. Teen fans ship characters their own age with much older characters all the time, and it's not usually frowned upon. But in the Beetlejuice fandom, there appears to be a lot of ship-shaming and accusations of p3d0ph1lia when it comes to this teen/ancient monster pairing, which I'm guessing is a lot more of an internet drama thing than about the actual pairing itself.

Now to be clear, I don't ship teen Lydia with anyone, but I also acknowledge that she's not gonna stay a kid and that things could change between them.

Personally I like the idea of Lydia and BJ being reunited after spending several years apart and things being super weird and tense based on their history. I've become primarily a fan of the relationship dynamic they have in the musical, so I see them as being distrustful of each other and competitive about getting one over the other. But they still gel in a unique way, and they can't help but enjoy their messed-up frenemy thing. And I think the awkwardness of the teen bride thing should be leaned into rather than forgotten or brushed away.

Lydia (to BJ): You really fucked me up, you know. I was just a sad kid who you manipulated. You fuckin creep.

BJ (to Lydia): Yeah but at least I didn't literally STAB YOU THROUGH THE HEART, so...point to me, there.

This type of prickly, antagonistic relationship is like catnip to me, honestly. So it's pretty disappointing and sad that all this fandom drama crap can and probably will affect my ability to share and enjoy beetlebabes content because "beetlebabes dni" appears on so many profiles and posts. It's the kinda thing that makes fandom culture such a double-edged freaking sword. Why can't people ever just let people enjoy the thing they like and try to be respectful of each other, ya know?

[vashwoodficrecs]

the monster in the ruins of ship five

by: beesinspades | @beesinspades

T, Vashwood, 72k, complete

Months after the July disaster, Wolfwood is asked by a small town to kill the monster that lives in the vestiges of an old ship. Although he refuses, a little girl's plea not to hurt her friend sends him on a new course—not knowing the beast he'll find in the wreckage might need help more than killing.

VASH GETS THE ZOOMIES!!! This version of creature Vash is so delightful, Wolfwood's inner monologue is perfect, Sheryl and Lina are The Best. Simply a must read

[nhpregulatory-official]

This is Arthur, we’ve got the after action report. You probably already saw everything but… it was bad. This guy’s a genuine monster, but we’re all alive. I’ll just let the recording play.

- Arthur Whitehorse

{Begin Audio visual playback} :

{Sounds of explosions and battle, Union Liberation squadron 167 “Five Man Band” approaches last known location of Lancer Hoshone Turakkis “Randance” and Terrorist [ALIAS NOT FOUND] “Windvale”}

Come on people, we’re almost there! Sevak! Prism! Lemon! Keep us covered! Ashlyn, we’re going in! Windvale’s right where we want ‘em!

Yes sir!

- Command recieved. 👍

Don’t worry Torchbearer, we’ll keep the ‘chauvs off your back!

Thanks… let’s and this Whitehorse.

Let’s.

{The recording quality dips severely for a moment as the two enter a ruined building, after a quick firefight with two Assault Class mechs, the two find a large hangar. Inside is a Starfarer class personal cruiser, a Goblin Class frame, and Lancer “Raindance”. Raindance is in poor health, his face covered in bruises and dried blood with a bomb collar around his neck. Windvale holds the pilot in a chokehold}

Jesus the Buddha Christ…

Well well well, if it isn’t the CorpsePilot, and who’s this? You wanted to bring a friend? I brought one too!

{Unintelligible groan}

Windvale… where do you think this is going to go? You think I care if this… this backstabber does?! Kill him for all I care! Besides, you’ll be shot down before you even breach atmosphere!

You see, that’s where your wrong-

{Torchbearer steps towards Windvale}

Don’t fucking move! Another step and your cockpit gets painted red! I don’t think you, or your friend here wants to see that, huh?

What are you talking about?

Shut up and listen. You too, I know “Hosh” here was getting chummy with the folks upstairs.

{The Goblin frame stares directly towards the recording device on the mech}

I have a deadman’s switch. It’s set to pop my partner here’s head. Then turn the neural port I gave Ashlyn into something that’ll put a Tokugawa’s reactor to shame, then, it’ll detonate every explosive I’ve set across the city. Yeah she’s mostly rubble but we both know how many civilians are still in here. That’s quite the body count you know, so I recommend you step back. Now.

You son of a bit-

Ashlyn! Step back, it’s not just you at risk here, but everyone in the city. The rest of the team included. Do as they say.

{Both mechs step away from Windvale}

Yeah CorpsePilot. Do what I say. So here’s how this is gonna work. I’m getting on that ship, and I’m leaving the system. If anyone even looks at me funny, everything goes boom. You two don’t move from this spot either, or that’ll make the corpse part of CorpsePilot more literal than usual. As for you, partner? I suppose after all this, it’s only fair to let someone else decide what to do with you. I’ve gotten what I needed from you.

{Windvale throws Raindance to the floor}

Anything you need to tell me CorpsePilot? I get the feeling we won’t be seeing each other for a while.

I’ll find you, you sick freak! This isn’t over!

When is it ever. I’ll catch you on the flipside CorpsePilot, and you, partner? I’ll never forget our time together! It’s been fun Etruscia, but I’ve got better things to do then stay here!

{Windvale bows, and enters the spaceship, as it starts up, and flies out of the hangar, towards the sky.}

I- Command did you get that? What the hell are we supposed to d-

{Torchbearer exits her mech, and unholsters her service pistol, pointing it towards Raindance}

Give me a reason not to.

Ashlyn wait-

Give me a reason! You killed Ashlyn! The real one, you killed her friends, you betrayed everything she stood for! So give me a reason not to avenge her right now!

{A prolonged period of silence}

… I can’t, just get it over with.

{Another long silence, before Torchbearer raises her service piston to the roof and fires three shots, before collapsing to the ground.}

{Torchbearer is heard sobbing as Whitehorse exits his chassis, and approaches Torchbearer}

Command, we need an extraction as soon as possible. It’s… it’s over.

{End audio visual playback.}

GREETINGS. IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT. YOU DID WHAT YOU COULD. GET CALLSIGN TORCHBEARER TO THE MEDICAL WING AND WE WILL ATTEMPT TO DISARM HER IMPLANT. IN THE MEANTIME WE WERE ABLE TO PLANT A TRACKING BUG ON WINDVALE'S SHIP. HE WILL NOT ELUDE US FOREVER. YOU DID WELL, HORSEMEN. TIME TO REST. SIGNED - [MAG-MELL]

[cryingpariah]

The Seraphim getting together to do this collaborative drawing on a huge sheet of paper. But it's not the things they usually draw like pirate ships, dinosaurs, colorful fuzzy monsters, butler cars, or even genetic memories. No, they're all drawing the same thing.

A single island long and red, almost like a serpent with what look to be angels with flames zipping across the sky or standing in some sort of city. Far more advanced than any you would find in the Blue Sea. Beautiful patterns, some of which look like the tattoo on King's face. The kids say it's part of a story they fell like they know and don't know at the same time.

But as the afternoon goes on and they move to a different part of the drawing, they all go quiet. Gryphon and Thea are looking very solemnly at what came before. Ashken is nervously sketching five nightmarish looking creatures. Monty is drawing fire so angrily he's almost ripping the paper. Jinta and Gabriel are crying too much to be able to finish and so does Nemo because he can pick up on the shift in mood. Jimmy does his best to comfort the others but he's about to cry too.

None of them have even the slightest clue as to what any of it means.

Bonney had spent a fair amount of time on Egghead and she learned perhaps a little too much during her stay. Stella always made it a point to usher her away from fragments of ruins or scrawling texts in languages she didn’t know by telling her she could know about them one day but certainly not now, she was just a child after all! She didn’t need to be burden with this knowledge anytime soon.

But the Seraphims were burdened. From their blueprints to their ‘birth’ they were tasked with destruction and violence, a command that had only recently been rescinded. Bonney had been happy for them to achieve their freedom but does that stop them from that burden? She didn’t know.

She hadn’t been gone that long. Sure she had gotten the teeniest but distracted since it was her turn to do a snack run during their playdate but how could she have predicted the scene she had walked in on? Tear stained faces and lightless eyes and clenched teeth and fists. And behind all of it lay fear. Creation was terrifying after all, even something simple like a crayon drawing.

She cautiously dropped off the goodies she had pilfered and made her way around to the sketches and recoiled. This…she didn’t even know where to begin! She couldn’t make heads or tails of it! She knew this had just been created but her gut screamed at her that it was old, much older than any of them. She tried to talk to them but not even Jimmy seemed able to answer her, mouth opening and closing silently.

Bonney began carefully moving them away from the paper which they were thankfully not resisting to. After they were seperated she took the page and made to begin ripping it to pieces only to be met with a horrified chorus.

“NO!”

She jumped at the sound. None of them had a real answer as to why but still insisted that she shouldn’t (or couldn’t?) rip it. Bonney began racking her brain, she couldn’t tear it up but she obviously couldn’t let it stay here so…

THAT'S IT!

Bonney set the page down and immediately began running around it, picking up corners and sides until the paper got smaller and smaller. She finally held the large sheet, now perfectly folded into the palm of her hand triumphantly to the others.

“Is this ok then?”

They looked around at each other and began nodding and collapsing on the ground in relief. It didn’t take long for that relief to zap their energy and the children began snoring and snoozing right there on the play mat. Bonney remained awaking, still holding the forbidden drawings in her hands and shivering slightly. What to do with it now? She obviously couldn’t destroy it…

Maybe it was finally time to call upon her friend from the Reverie…

[chuckeroo777]

Dungeon Meshi Volume 7 Part 3

Finishing up tonight's liveblog! Let's traumatize some dwarfs!

So... is it ever explained why there is all this gold? Did Thistle just think it would be funny to make "golden country" literal?

Interesting that even this early, Senshi may have been considering teaming up with the orcs. If the orcs can survive, why can't we?

Later, Senshi states that hippogriff soup is his favorite food. At the time, I interpreted this as Senshi really really liking the flavor, adding another layer to his trauma, that he might actually like being a cannibal. But I guess it's just his favorite because of the relief it brought.

That's neat. He managed to reverse engineer the dwarven navigation code all by himself.

Uh, no Laios. He left out ~70 years that occured where he lived around the island not eating monsters. He's like, 45 in tall-man years.

While I do like Chilchuck trying to look out for Senshi, I do like the anime cutting this bit. Leaving it ambiguous for the audience to figure out almost makes it more horrifying to consider.

Rocs are so cool. So many times you see them reduced to a more reasonable size, but sometimes you just need a really big freaking monster.

Fools! He's been five steps ahead of you the whole time!

Wait, if you knew hippogriffs are native to this dungeon, then why was your initial Falin imposter guess a griffin?

Sooo... how do you know it's hippogriff meat? What if it turned to pegasus? Or normal giant eagle?

A precious image. I think this is part of why I have trouble shipping anyone in this manga. Everyone is too goddamn wholesome. Also fittingly, this marks the halfway point of the manga, with the crew reaffirming their bond.

I used to think self-driving cars were the coolest thing. Then capitalism ruined it.

Yeah, but then you have to deal with the awkward mid-length phase where he looks like Falin.

Eww. Another good reason not to start that familiar cookbook.

I'm not giving you context. You can't make me. Also, why does the low-rez minotaur have completely different mammary anatomy than the high-rez one?

Is this worth checking out? Curious that I haven't heard a wink about it despite how deep in the meshi hole I am.

And that was volume 7! Join me next time as I venture into the forbidden world of post-anime chapters!

[susandsnell]

For the character ask game 4; 8; 21 for Daniel Molloy and 10; 20 for Madeleine Eparvier? If that's too many, just pick which ones you're most interested in obviously :)

Hi anon! Finally sitting down to do these. Thank you for your patience with this, and double thank you for being the first person to ask me things about that old man and that spectacular queen. Let's go! I'll put it under the cut because boy I'm about to get long-winded -- I blame you for giving me so much to work with!

CHARACTER ASK GAME!!! 💫

Daniel Molloy

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

You do not want to know the crossovers I've envisioned for this old man. Because of his meta role as the narrator, the messenger, and the archivist of the story, he fits surprisingly well into so many other pieces of media with the premise "what if he was the one investigating/interviewing the survivor". There are many other vampires I'd like him to interview (especially the ones from Tanz Der Vampire), and I'd love to see how a younger Daniel would fare in Fright Night (we all know how The Lost Boys would end for him..). But mostly, final girl that he is, I think he'd rock it in other horror media; the thing that has plagued him and enthralled him all his life. The thing he has begged for and run from. I wonder if The Ring's Rachel Keller was a former student or colleague of his, and if she'd enlist his help with respect to breaking the story on cursed video tapes. I want to see him in a Se7en or Longlegs type of neonoir slasher, sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, and yet coming through when it counts. I think that I would want to personally beat him to death myself for the things he'd say to Dani Ardor (Dan to Dan communication), but he's actually proven himself to be solid at deprogramming someone subjected to intense gaslighting (and very good at ruining relationships, including those that aren't his own!), and if he can keep the insanely misogynistic comments to a minimum for more than five minutes, he might've been able to get her away from the Harga by talking sense.

And finally, in what must make me the greatest parody of myself fathomable, yes, I think Daniel Molloy should investigate and probably write the retrospective on the Black Prom of Stephen King's Carrie. I've frequently joked that for all the addiction trouble, marital and familial trouble, and insanely out of pocket offensive comments, he's a Stephen King author avatar guesting at Manderley or perhaps Wuthering Heights.

But all seriousness, you have Sue Snell, who wrote her own autobiography of the horrific and targic events for which she wound up both scapegoated and disbelieved. Given his nose for the supernatural/preternatural, Daniel would follow where that thread leads and maybe help her find some peace in the process. The two certainly have a lot in common; both did fucking horrible things as a teenager for which they later faced an insanely disproportionate retribution, both have curly hair (usually in Sue's case), both are heavily coded to be repressing queerness leading them to unfulfilling heteronormative relationships/plans for unhappy family life, both take the role of the archivist and messenger to shape the horrors they lived into a narrative - their narrative - before the world will make of it what it will. Both fell in love with their monster(s). Both are fucking SURVIVORS.

(I kind of want to write this now...)

8. What’s something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Honestly, I don't want to rehash bad discourse from twitter, so I'll just say exaggerating his very apparent flaws to thoughtlessly trigger people in the interest of winning a morality contest in this of all franchises. On the flipside of that, reducing him to his ship with Armand -- I've been very vocal regarding how much I despise the Armand Is Alice theory, and so long as it persists I'll continue. Not because of this or that headcanon, but it's phenomenally misogynistic to erase women we haven't even seen onscreen yet for slash because eewwww no girls allowed. Like what in the circa 2007 misogynistic yaoi livejournal, TJLC ass theory are we doing here. But also because it would be terrible writing. The emotional impact of old Maniel as a character concept is that he's lived a full life, accomplished incredible things, and had relationships that were meaningful and that he also destroyed. He has these things because of Louis' rescue of him and Louis' words, and when they see each other again in 2022, the tangible impact of his great deed are written in every line on Daniel's face. I don't mind 'the Chase happened' truthers at all, but my God, you undercut everything when you suggest that it's Oops, All Armand, meaning Daniel never had a life fully lived and failings and triumphs he carries with him. You also ironically make DM less interesting by making him the only person in Daniel's life of any significance. Just. Take the character as we got him, my god.

21. If you’re a fic writer and have written for this character, what’s your favorite thing to do when you’re writing for this character? What’s something you don’t like?

I have a whole Thing about how I'm a strident feminist who somehow hitched her wagon to this geriatric misogynist, but it is a part of his very distinctive voice, so I do like to dig deep with "what's the thing a man could say that would piss me off the most", and then I run it through the canon content (since his character voice is very particular and distinct), plus some meta works with Eric Bogosian, to see if it fits, sprinkle in some Freak Shit, and bada bing bada boom, we've got our favourite asshole. It's weirdly cathartic in a way? Exorcising demons of shitty men I've dealt with or known of I guess lmao. I would say in sappier moods I like looking for the gentleness and the silver lining underneath the ten layers of Having No Limits, and when I hit on what's tender but still plausible, aka my favourite Daniel moments? No better feeling.

The flipside of this, being what I don't like, is that keeping that voice up is hard and it is a challenge to stay as sharp and ten steps ahead as he is. Need to brush up on some Columbo, I think...

Madeleine Éparvier

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

My heart would really, really, really love to say yes, but my gut and my brain say a definitive no. For one thing, while they make it very, very clear she's not a Collaborator or antisemitic in the slightest, the way her wartime affair came about and her later actions betrays an amorality in those circumstances that I probably wouldn't be able to look past, outsiders though we both may be. I'm also one for obsessive morality-related thoughts in general, so I don't think this would jell especially well with her survivalist mentality. I'm also fluent in French but it's not my first language, so that would likely get on her nerves. And while we'd share an interest in fashion and I'd commend her for her tastes in both clothes and women, I feel like she'd see me as a bootlicker for my legal education lolol.

And most importantly - Madeleine is incredibly mean. It's hot, it's funny, it's sexy, but I am profoundly oversensitive, and she would absolutely make me cry several times lmao. I don't really know if there's any character on this show I'd be able to get along with because everyone is so delightfully awful and also, you know, murderous. But that's why it's fun!

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn’t matter?

Well, Claudia is her companion and soulmate, so that's the easy answer; they complete each other in a way that no one ever quite has. Two outcasts, two people brutally mistreated in societies to which they were supposed to belong, two women carrying pain and humour and brutality and softness, and growing flowers over the corpses they leave in their wake. She is the X at the end of Claudia's long journey, the reason she doesn't leap in the fire who did not think twice about burning at her side; she is the only one who reads Claudia's diaries with permission. Claudia is her window to the wider world, her rescuer twice-over, and the only person who meets her where she is, in strangeness and violence and joy, in sucking the marrow from the bones you leave behind you.

So...'best friend' is probably a very light way of putting it lolol.

But also? I genuinely think she'd get along with Daniel. Two unapologetic amoral assholes who defiantly faced their past trauma to sacrifice themselves for the one they loved. And they both bully Armand, too!

Thank you so much for this! Apologies again for the length.

[holycatsandrabbits]

From OTP to OC’s: How to scrub your favorite fandom couple into original characters

Plot out a completely new story that you are dying to write—because all your favorite stuff is still there.

If you’re a fanfiction writer, you probably have at least one OTP (One True Pairing, meaning your favorite fictional romantic couple). You might have written them a beautiful story (or thirty) on AO3.

But at some point, you may want to take your OTP out of fandom and into the world of original fiction. Possibly because it makes your writing accessible to people who aren’t part of your fandom, and possibly (probably) because unlike fanfic, for original fiction, you can actually get paid.

So how on earth do you take other people’s characters and make them your own, without getting rid of the fire that sparks your muse?

In my journey from fanfic to original fic, I started by writing AUs (alternate universes) of my first OTP, Aziraphale and Crowley from Good Omens. In an AU, you are making big changes to the source material, but leaving in most of what your fandom loves about the characters. In a Good Omens AU, Aziraphale and Crowley are often human instead of angel and demon, but the basic enemies-to-lovers trope usually remains, along with the personalities of the characters, and as many similarities to the original story as you can fit in.

Scrubbing (that really is the technical term) fandom all the way to original is the same process, it just goes farther. When you’re done scrubbing, the only things left about your OTP will be the pieces you as a writer can’t live without.

So what are those pieces? Well, it’s entirely subjective. But you can follow these five steps to find them:

1. List your characters’ traits

We’re going to take as example an OTP I am currently scrubbing, which is just as cringy as all of your OTP’s: Link and Sidon from The Legend of Zelda Nintendo games. You don’t need to have any idea who that is to follow this article. But here are their character traits, the good and the flaws:

Link: human (or elf?) male, great hero of legend, very good at fighting, quiet, private, helpful, mischievous, possibly in love with someone he doesn’t remember (Princess Zelda), guilty, and haunted by past failures.

Sidon: 7-foot-tall shark man, gregarious, ridiculously optimistic and complimentary, charming, nerdy, sometimes over-confident, a good fighter, ages slowly compared to humans (or elves), and oh yeah, he’s a prince. 

Note that these don’t have to be the traits the fandom at large assigns to these characters. This is the way you see them.

2. List your ship’s tropes

“Ship” is short for relationship, in this case our romance. So for these dudes, we have: human/nonhuman or human/monster, royal/commoner, long lifespan/short lifespan, and size difference.

3. List your plot’s main points

In the two games that have Sidon (Link’s in all the games), Link has to go to four different places and help four different peoples (leaving Sidon behind), then beat a bad guy in a castle, and save the world.

4. Scrub in

Now we’re ready for the operation. You’re going to go through everything you listed and start throwing things out. As you do, ask yourself this question: Does my heart still race? 

If you take out a piece and your muse is still humming for this OTP, then let it go. But if the absence of that part ruins the whole thing for you, then leave it in. Remember, you don’t want people to recognize this as a certain fandom or ship, so take out everything you possibly can.

So for the Link/Sidon ship, I’m asking myself, Does it matter (to me) that one is royalty? Does it matter that they age differently? Does it matter that one’s two feet taller? Does it matter that one is a monster? Do I still need to have a save-the-world plot? Do I still need them to be separated sometimes during the story? And so on. Again, this is entirely subjective: leave in only what floats your personal boat.

5. Make it weird

You have your list! Congrats! Now it’s time to change every other detail you can, because you want to make your story as different from the original as possible.

Let’s say I decide I really want to keep my monster character. Then it definitely shouldn’t be a shark man like Sidon. So I’m asking myself the same kinds of questions: Does it matter (to me) that he’s seven feet tall? Does it matter that he has sharp teeth? Does it matter that he can breathe underwater? And so on. 

Perhaps the only thing I really care about is my monster’s size. In that case, I need to come up with a large humanoid creature that’s as different from a shark as possible: maybe a centaur, bear shapeshifter, giant alien bird person, or scientist that had an accident in the cloning lab. 

Let character and plot shape each other into a completely new story that you are dying to write—because all your favorite stuff is still there.

Here are two original stories I wrote based on fandom ships:

You Don’t Say: When two fake psychic con men who secretly pine for each other are forced to work together to solve a disappearance, they discover that one of them is actually psychic. But which one? This is Aziraphale and Crowley, with the tropes of enemies-to-lovers, dorkiness, and bickerflirting preserved, along with elements of magic. Turns out those were the only pieces I couldn’t let go, and the resulting story is nothing like Good Omens, but was really fun to write.

Bloom: A shy older man with magical abilities becomes the muse of a beautiful young male artist. This comes from one of my OTPs from the 2018 TV show The Terror: John Bridgens and Henry Peglar, an older man/younger man, teacher/student ship. I left in the age difference (toned down quite a bit), and kept the outgoing/shy trope, but changed the teacher into an artist’s muse with a gift of magic. This story has very little in common with a horror show about Sir John Franklin’s doomed 1840’s arctic expedition—except the few parts I couldn’t live without.

There is one major disadvantage for a fanfic writer moving to original fiction: you will not get nearly as many readers for original fic. But remember, readers in your fandom are there because they love the same character traits and tropes you do, some of which will be preserved in your story. You may not have as many readers, but you will get some fans of your own! And maybe even some sales.

Thanks for reading! Speaking of sales—here’s how I do it: How to publish a short story

Looking for more inspiration? Get some weird writing prompts. 

DannyeChase.com ~ AO3 ~ Linktree ~ Resources for Writers

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