#when in the novel the only reason he went into the defensive was because he tried to save on of the hostages from canavaro

[lloydfrontera]

screaming crying and throwing up about lloyd being literally javier's weakness i am not even exaggerating for the bit it is absolutely canon and acknowledged in-universe that the best way to get to javier is through lloyd because if you attack lloyd javier will put himself in harm's way to protect him i hate them so much 😭

[himluv]

The Intervention

Here's the next chapter of Say My Name (Say it Twice)! Enjoy some more Neve and Bellara, and of course Lucanis and Spite.

Lucanis sat on the cot in Neve’s study, one arm over his chest, the other gently swirling a steaming cup of coffee. That was his only defense against the women staring him down. Neve sat behind her desk watching him with a little smirk on her lips, while Bellara leaned against the front of the desk with both arms crossed and a frown on her face. 

Spite sat perched on one of Neve’s bookcases, swatting at wisps like a cat after fireflies.

Lucanis bit back a smile at the demon’s antics, then returned his attention to Bellara. “All right,” he said. “You wanted to talk.”

Neve rolled her eyes. “To be clear, Bel wanted to talk. I’m just… facilitating.”

“Right,” Bellara said, nodding. Then she scowled at Lucanis. “What’s going on with you and Rook?”

He sighed and fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Nothing,” he said. 

Neve raised an eyebrow at him. “So, we just imagined all those heated glances over dinner the other night?”

Lucanis shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Then how do you explain what happened in the Crossroads the other day?” Bellara asked. 

He shook his head. “You’ll have to ask Rook about that.”

“I did.” She frowned. 

“And?” He could tell from her face that she hadn’t liked Rook’s answer. 

“She told me not to worry about her and that she was handling it.”

Neve shook her head and gave him a wry smile. “Sounds familiar.”

“It sure does,” Bellara said. “Must be all that time she spends with you, Lucanis.” She glared at him. 

Lucanis took a drink of his coffee. “I told you, Bellara, it isn’t any more time than she spends with anyone else.”

Neve snorted. “And you believe that?”

“It’s the truth,” he said.

Both women just stared at him.

“What?”

Bellara rolled her eyes. “We have eyes, Lucanis.”

“And ears,” Neve said. “You’ve hardly been subtle.”

Lucanis went still, panic bubbling in his chest. “What do you mean?” Was he sending signals he wasn’t even aware of? Did the whole Lighthouse know how he felt about Rook? If they did… did Teia and Viago know, too? If they knew, then Illario surely did. 

Was Rook in danger because of him?

“You and Rook,” Neve said. “The banter, the heated looks when you think no one’s looking–”

”– the way you watch her back more than anyone else’s,” Bellara added. “And how you’re both so careful not to touch in front of anyone?”

Neve nodded. “That was a big tell. No one is that aware of another person if there isn’t something going on.”

Bellara laughed. “I know, right?” She turned back to Lucanis and her smile faded. “Oh.”

Lucanis felt the blood drain from his face as he realized that, yes, everyone did know how he felt about Rook.

Neve looked at him with surprise. “No,” she said. “There’s no way you thought that was subtle!”

“There’s nothing to be subtle about,” he said. “We’re just colleagues.”

Again, the women stared at him. 

“Friends,” he admitted. 

NO! Spite said from his perch. Rook. Is. More.

Neve and Bellara looked at him with such disbelief that Lucanis knew he was only trying to fool himself. “Fine,” he said. “I…” he sighed. “Like Rook.”

Neve smiled. “Now, doesn’t that feel better?”

He glared at her, but her smile only widened.

Bellara’s grin could outshine the sun. “How long have you two–”

“–We haven’t,” he said. “We aren’t…” he cleared his throat and knocked back the rest of his coffee, then set the cup on the floor between his feet. 

Bellara’s face fell. “Wait. What?” She and Neve shared a glance. “Why not?”

His mind spun with all the reasons. He was an abomination. He was damaged goods. He didn’t know the first thing about love, real love that wasn’t part of a romance novel. His cousin might be trying to kill him. He could barely sleep and when he did manage it, he still dreamed of the Ossuary. His hands knew only death, how could he trust them to cradle her heart?

Lu. Can. Is. 

He blinked, rousing from all those terrible, spiraling thoughts. Neve and Bellara were watching him, waiting for his response. “Rook deserves better.”

Neve sat back in her chair, packing her pipe. “And you get to decide that for her? Hardly seems fair.”

“The world isn’t fair,” he said. 

“True.” She lit her pipe with the snap of her fingers. She inhaled then breathed out a plume of fragrant smoke. “So, why do the world’s work for it?”

“I–” he ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “I can’t,” he said, his voice trembling.

“Ah,” Neve said. “The truth at last.”

Bellara looked between them, her brow furrowed. “You can’t what?”

Lucanis gave Neve a pleading look. A look that Bellara interpreted just as well. 

“But, Rook likes you!”

He couldn’t look at the elf. “I know.”

“You could be together!” Her voice hit a new pitch in her confused frustration. 

“I know, Bellara.” Did she think he didn’t know that? That he didn’t fantasize about holding Rook, about kissing her whenever he pleased, about sleeping in her arms?

“Then why won’t–”

“–Bel,” Neve said, her voice low. 

Lucanis felt pinned to the cot, his heart racing against his suddenly too-tight ribcage. He couldn’t breath, everything felt constricted. His blood thundered in his ears, he knew it was his blood, but it sounded like water. Like he was underwater. 

No! Spite seethed. Get out. We had a DEAL. Get out!

That familiar chill climbed up Lucanis’s spine. He shook his head, rolled his neck. “No,” he whispered. “Not now. Please.” He focused on his breath, controlling it as he cataloged the sensations around him. The aroma of coffee and pipe smoke, the rough brush of the linen blankets beneath him. The chatter of the wisps that floated around the room, oblivious to the turmoil inside him. 

“Lucanis?” Neve’s voice sounded far away, but firm. Real. Like a place he could land. 

He opened his eyes, only then realizing he had closed them. The first thing he saw was Neve, her dark eyes wide with concern. 

“I’m all right,” he said. His voice sounded far from all right, shaky and thin. He glanced at Bellara, who looked frightened. He gave her a fragile smile. “That is why,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Lucanis.” Her chin quivered and her eyes welled up. 

Lucanis didn’t think he could handle it if she cried. He held up a hand to ward off her concern, but said, “You’re doing my dishes for a week.”

She let out a surprised laugh. “I’ll do them for a month.”

He chuckled at that. “Even better,” he said. He glanced between the women. “Can we agree to leave my personal life be for awhile?”

Neve and Bellara both winced. “I think we can consider this case closed,” Neve said.

Bellara nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I am sorry, Lucanis.”

He nodded and picked up his cup. “I know, Bellara.” He stood and tilted his chin at them, then left for the dining hall. He needed the dim, close comfort of the pantry. He needed the smell of roasted coffee beans and wax candles. And though he knew the risks, Lucanis needed to sleep, even if just for an hour or two. 

Maybe then, with a little distance, everything that had just happened in Neve’s study wouldn’t seem so terrible.

[intothedysphoria]

Steve Harrington went missing on the 17th of August, 2023. All that was left was an unfinished manuscript of his dark gay romance novel. What most people didn’t know, however, was that he’d been sucked into his own laptop.

Waking up on the cold, slightly damp ground of a battlefield, Steve found a golden skinned, golden haired man lurking over him. A man Steve already knew was called Billy and had “the most magnificent penis in the land”, in his own words.

Well that answered the question of which character he was inhabiting. Kind of.

The main character Steve had written for this particular novel was based on the West Hollywood demon twinks that frequented Steve’s local gay bars. Samuel was somehow both tiny and had a fat ass and had no body hair in sight.

Steve’s father was an Algerian Sephardic Jew and Steve had inherited both his strong nose and body hair. Looking down at the skin tone of his hands, Steve was definitely still himself. So much for dream logic.

Billy did what he’d been written to do in the narrative and hoisted Steve’s body across his chest in a bridal carry. It was even more erotic than how Steve had written it and he decided to go along with the dream/ hallucination he was clearly having.

It was only when they’d gotten back to the hut Steve had written for him and Billy just dropped him like a hot stone because he was bleeding so heavily, Steve realised that this wasn’t just going to be his narrative. Here, Billy was a real person. Steve was going to have to take care of him.

Frantically patting down his pockets, Steve came out with lint, a five dollar bill, Dustin’s inhaler and some very mild pain medication for Steve’s back. None of those seemed particularly helpful.

Relying entirely on Heather Holloway’s first aid training from that summer of being a lifeguard and his grandmothers love of herbal remedies, Steve managed to find something to stop the bleeding, created a paste to hopefully prevent infection and shakily stitch him up.

Billy wasn’t dead by the end of it, which Steve counted as a win.

In the book, Billy was just a brooding celtic warrior who was a secret sweetheart and was very good at sex. Actually being in his world had given Billy significant extra depth.

He was quite vain, constantly preening over his hair and adored the sea. His favourite colour was a deep shade of blue, he was a very competent cook and his relationship with his family, particularly his dad had made him suspicious of just about anything that Steve did.

Still, he kept Steve in his hut, fellow villagers sometimes coming in and out with questioning looks at Steve, particularly Billy’s younger sister Max. Most of them asked if Steve was a Roman. Which made sense considering Steve had set the story in Roman era rural Scotland.

Steve was not a Roman, Billy always explained defensively, as if he was scared that they were going to take Steve away from him. There was something protective in Billy’s voice which made Steve feel safe and cared for.

Really, considering that Billy was very clearly his own man, there was no reason for the romance that had started in the story to develop. Billy had free will, he was complex and really had every reason not to turn into the the man who was willing to kill to keep Steve safe.

The flowers started regardless.

Small bunches of wildflowers placed beside his bed, not pristine but glowing with affection. It was how it had started for Samuel. Steve had thought it was really so romantic when he was writing it.

Now, he was concerned.

Steve was only half convinced he was living in a very long dream at this point. If demogorgons could exist, so could alternate universes. Even if they were alternate universes Steve had created himself.

In that case, Steve had a moral dilemma on his hands. He could either just take the situation at face value and enjoy being adored by a gorgeous warrior or he could fess up and tell Billy that he’d was essentially a piece of fiction.

After a night of worrying, Steve chose the latter.

Billy, quite understandably thought he’d gone mad after Steve wove him the tale of how exactly he’d came into existence.

Steve took a moment to enjoy the cuddle and the gentle fussing that Billy was giving him.

Then he mentioned Samuel and Billy went very quiet.

He had a vague memory of his old love interest. Of being a two dimensional romantic lead. Of being eye candy on a proposed book cover. But he preferred Steve.

Billy told him about how much he loved Steve’s laugh, the way his nose crinkled when he didn’t like something, the compassion he’d shown Billy day after day.

He loved being human as well. He loved feeling and fearing and loving and hating and every emotion he was given.

Steve had given that to him.

And that was when Steve knew he definitely wasn’t in a dream.

He did maintain the title of the most magnificent penis in all the land in Steve’s opinion. And the best kisser.

But hearing the words “I love you” was the best of all of it.

This is an (early by like a day) birthday present for @shieldofiron. Saf you are one of the most intelligent, funny, creative and kind people I have ever met, a truly amazing fandom best friend and I really hope you enjoy this.

[dbnightingale24]

Fog In The Mind, Desire In The Heart

A Dark Curtis Everett Love Story

~~

Surprise! I decided to take a small break from the three novels I'm writing (I promise that your updates are coming!!), and finish the damn Curtis Everett one shot I promised you guys years ago. It may take me forever to get to the point, but I do eventually get there, in my defense. Anywho, this is a lot shorter than what you all are used to, but I hope you all enjoy it just the same! As always, thanks to the amazing @fuckingbyefor the moodboard! Here we go!

Word Count: 9911 (yes, you read that correctly)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+), Slight Snowpiercer AU, Slight Age Gap between Edgar and Reader (work with me people), Curtis Everett, Daddy Kink, Non Con/Dub Con, Drinking, Plotting, Self Hate, Loathing, Betrayal, Swearing, Angst, Mild Violence, Anger, Pining...I think that's it?

Songs That Inspired This Story: I'd Walk Through Fire For You, Just Let Me Adore You

Summary: Everyone stuck in the tail section dreamed of a better life for themselves. Everyone except for Curtis. For him, his better life would start when you were happy and by his side, no matter who he had to force out of the way.

~~

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted/published elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

~~

For as much as you hate Curtis, he lives rent free in your head all day. You sit at the bar that Nam so lovingly bar tends day in and day out, listening in and out of the conversation he makes almost every night.

“Right now isn’t the time, but you’ll see...the world will be livable again. Maybe another year or so, but we’ll be able to get off of this fucking train,” he tells you tonight, an echo of the same thing he’s been saying every night for the last two years.

“What did Curtis say?” you snicker, putting your empty glass down as he reaches for your favorite poison: whiskey.

“He’s busy,” Nam simply shrugs, refilling your glass with ice and the dark brown liquid.

“When isn’t he?”

“Y/N, you know what happened to Edgar-”

“He’s gone, Nam,” you snap unintentionally. “Whatever the hell Curtis meant to happen, didn’t. Edgar has been dead for two years and all the while we wait for the great Curtis Everett to come up with a fucking plan to make all of this not seem so shit as it is,” you sigh before downing your drink.

Your reasons for hating Curtis are very simple and clear for everyone to understand.

Everyone except Curtis.

You remember when you first boarded onto the stupid train that “saved” your life. You remember them ripping you away from your Mother, who sacrificed herself so you could have a chance at life, and her promising you that she’d meet up with you later on in the train.

She never did.

You know she only did it because she knew it was the only way you’d board the train, but the anger feel towards her never leaves.

It never has and it never will. 

That was the first time you saw him.

You were put into a group of young teenage girls, a place you barely belonged since you were almost 17, and you felt a pair of eyes on you. 

It’s not like that was uncommon, but it didn’t help anything. In fact, as time went on, on the train, you found that a lot of men had their eyes on you. You were beautiful, soft spoken but also opinionated, and kind. You were so understanding and helpful, unlike almost everyone else on the train who gave up hope as soon as the doors closed.

They all did their best to make you notice them, Curtis more than most, but you were more than happy to keep to yourself. 

At least, that’s until Edgar came of age. While he was younger than you by a few years, he was persistent and the only one who could truly make you smile and laugh. For as tense and gloomy as things could be, Edgar always found a way to soften everything. The first few times he asked you out (well, too hangout on his bed), you said no because of the age difference. 

“Who cares?” he laughed as he followed you to the little hospital section they had set up in one of the train cars.

“Clearly I do!”

“It’s not that bad!”

“Edgar-”

“What could it hurt? We’ll split a protein block, a cup of water, talk a bit, and I’ll walk you back to your bunk. It’ll be fun!”

“Edgar-”

“You know you want to, I see it in your eyes.”

“No Edgar,” you smiled softly before making your way to the children’s bunks to read them a story.

“You’ll say yes, you’ll see!” he called with a soft smile, before he turned and made his way back to his bunk.

After that, he didn’t let up. He asked almost every day until you finally caved and said yes. From that moment on, you two inseparable (after you both finished your daily chores). You loved to spend time reading to the children and he was more than happy to accompany you. The kids loved him anyway.

“What do you think about us having one?” Edgar asked one night as you two laid together after sex.

“Having one what?”

“Child?”

“Fuck no!”

“Shh,” he laughed softly, stroking your hair. “Why not?”

“You can’t be serious, babe. We live on a fucking train, the shittiest part of the train I might add, the world is frozen, the front end comes and randomly takes children whenever they please-”

“It won’t always be like this, plus, Curtis has a plan.”

“Oh? What plan is that?” you scoffed

Edgar had always been Curtis’ biggest supporter.

“Why don’t you believe in him?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in him, but I’m not willing to follow blindly behind him. Everyone else is, and I just don’t see a reason to,” you shrugged.

“Y/N-”

“You asked me a question and I gave you an answer. It’s not my fault that you don’t like the answer, baby.”

Curtis had always been the one thing that got in the way of your relationship with Edgar. Edgar would willingly follow Curtis, no matter what he said or what he did, and you weren’t buying into any of it. Sure, Curtis seemed nice enough and he was kind when he wanted to be, but there was also a silent anger to him. A silent anger that always seemed like it could go off at any time. 

Plus, it’s not exactly like he was thrilled when you and Edgar started seeing each other. Once again, a lot of the men weren’t, but everyone could see how happy you were. How well you and Edgar fit together. Curtis, on the other hand, rolled his eyes whenever he saw the two of you together. 

“Why don’t you come and help us tonight? You always have an idea-”

“No,” you laughed and Edgar scowled. “That’s your thing, not mine.”

“If you’d come, you’d see there’s nothing to hate about-”“I don’t hate Curtis!” you snapped softly and he rolled his eyes, “I just...something isn’t right there. You all just follow and believe everything that he says, and that’s not okay.”

“You always find a reason to doubt him and hes never given you a reason to.”

“And hes never given you a reason to trust him so much!”

“I’m not having another argument about this-”

“Good, because I’m tired of him somehow always becoming the center of our relationship.”

“Y/N-”

“You’re gonna be late. Go.”

You hated arguing so much with him about Curtis, but he didn’t know the things that you knew about him. Besides the fact that his eyes always lingered on you for far much longer than they should have, you knew about the things that Edgar was too young to remember. You knew what happened to his Mother, you knew what almost happened to Edgar, and you knew that Curtis would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Besides, by the way he watched you like you were his prey, you knew he’d stop at nothing to get you. So, when it was finally time for the “great uprising” you begged Edgar to stay behind with you.

“We’ve spent too long planning and plotting for me to stay behind-”

“You can stay with me!” you sobbed and he shook his head.

“Trust me! Believe in me! I can do this!”

“Edgar-”

“We’ll have a future, children, space-”

“I just want you! Please-”

“I’ll come back to you and you’ll see. I promise you, it’ll be okay. I love you.”

That was the last time you saw him alive.

When word got back to you how he’d been killed, and who let it happen, something inside you snapped. You became violent, you lost all patience, you attacked anyone who got in your way as you started on your own journey to the front, and you led everyone who had stayed behind to the front of the train with you. By the time you got there, Wilford had been killed and Curtis was the new leader. Of course, no one noticed all of the changes in Curtis’ attitude, as if you all owed him your lives, because he’d apparently made your lives better. He made changes that made years of suffering finally seem like they had been worth something. 

Everyone except you.

“Curtis wants to see you,” one of the girls tells you as she approaches the bar. 

Sansa, who’s his regular girl. 

“Just give him time,” Nam repeats softly, filling your glass one last time. 

You roll your eyes and down your drink before you follow Sansa to the very front of the train.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been called to his bedroom. Hell, it isn’t even the 100th time. Not long after the battle ended and changes were made, Curtis Everette made it very well known to everyone on the train, that you are his absolute favorite. Not so much with his words, but with his actions. He’d made it seem as if it were out of honor for Edgar, but the way he watched you let you know that, that was bullshit. No, he never called you into his bed, but he also made sure to never let you get close to another man again.

He made sure you never had to work, you never wanted for anything, you always had fresh clothes waiting for you, and you had one of the best rooms on the train. 

“Edgar sacrificed his life so you could have a better one. It only makes sense that you have the best of everything,” he whispered the night that he’d helped you settle into your new room.

In return, you’ve made it known that you’ll always despise him.

“What?” you snap the second you step foot inside his room.

He looks at you with his bourbon shot eyes, and you scoff. He’s in one of his moods.

“You could be a little nicer to me, Y/N.”

“Everyone on this train is nice enough to you. Now, what do you want? What’s the point of giving me a room if you never actually let me stay in it.”

“What’s wrong with you today?” he sneers, pouring himself another drink.

“You’re still here and Edgar isn’t.”

“Edgar made his choice-”

“Edgar worshiped you and blindly followed you into battle, and you couldn’t give less of a shit about what happened to him.”

“That’s not true!”

You scoff and narrow your eyes at him, “then why do you call me here every fucking night?”

“I’ve never done anything-”

“I know you’re not drunk enough to lie to me,” you warn with a snarl.

No, technically Curtis has never done anything to you, but hes found ways to...mess with you. 

He’s had you stay in the rooms while hes fooled around with other women, sometimes multiple at once, if he gets drunk enough, he watches you bathe and get dressed, hes gone out of his way to show you just how badly he wants you, and he never lets you stay away from him for too long. No, he’s never forced himself on you and taken you, but hes always been just a few steps away from doing so.

With Edgar out of the way, he’s free to do whatever he pleases.

However, the problem is, Curtis wants you to want him. He wants you to burn for him just as bad as he burns for you. At one point, that would’ve been possible. It was never that you found him unattractive or unapproachable, something just always seemed...off. Now that, that’s been confirmed, you’re repulsed by the man.

Even if you do still find him painfully attractive.

A sick smirk comes to his face as he makes his way over to you, “I’ve never done anything that haven’t found yourself enjoying.” “Yes, because I love spending my nights watching fuck other women.”

“Could be you.”

“You can let go of that dream. If it never happened before, it sure as fuck isn’t gonna happen now.”

Without warning, he’s gripping your neck tight and forcing you against the wall, and you do your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach.

“You can pretend all you want to, but I know how bad you want it. I hear you at night when you think I’m asleep. The pathetic little moans and whimpers, and your desperate begging.”

Your eyes go wide and he chuckles darkly.

“You’re not as slick as you think, honey.”

“It’s not for you, so don’t go getting a big ego.” “It sure as shit isn’t for Edgar, even when you were fucking him regularly. He could never truly satisfy you. Not in the way you needed.” “You’re a bastard!”

“How many times did you picture me every time he fucked you, hmm? How many times do you picture me when you’re alone in that cozy little room of yours?”

You don’t know what the hell has gotten into him, because he’s never been this forceful with you before.

“Never!”

“You should be thanking me,” he growls, his grip on your neck getting tighter as he leans in close. “Maybe I should stop being so fucking nice to you and just take it.” “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“What will you do, huh? The only crying you’ll be doing is when I’m done with you and you’re begging for more of my cock.”

Of all the fucking times to be turned on.

“Curtis-”

“You fucking want it,” he continues, “even now, I know that little pussy is crying to be touched. To fucked until it’s ruined!”

You push him off of you and glare at him.

“Admit it! You orchestrated all of this so you could-”

“He knew what he was getting himself into! He knew the chance he was taking-”

“He trusted you!”

“That was his fault!”

There it is.

“So you admit it!”

“I’d do it again! Why did he deserve you but I didn’t?! I still don’t?! After all I’ve done for you?!”

“You’re monster!”

“Sticks and stones,” he smirks before pressing you against the wall again. “Maybe I should show you just how much of a monster I am.”

His lips are on yours and when you try to push him off of you, he doubles down on his efforts. Squeezing at the stitches in his other arm, he hisses in pain, dropping his glass and backs up for just a moment. He slaps you hard before going in for another kiss, but you’re quick to knee him in the groin.

“Bitch!”

You’re quick to run out and make your way to room, not sure of where else there is to hide, and before you can slide the door close, he’s pushing you in and slamming it shut behind him.

“Get out!”

“Get on the fucking bed!” “Curtis-”

“Fine, you want this to be rough? I can be as rough as you want me to be, baby,” he promises as he locks the door.

“HELP!”

“No one is going to go against me, no one is going to save you, and no one is gonna feel bad for you. Scream all you fucking want, they’ll know you’re just enjoying it,” he promises with a sinister smile.

Seeing no other way out of this, you rush him against the wall and just start hitting him with all the power you have in your body.

“I’ve never had to work for it,” he taunts, easily pushing you back. “Never had to make a bitch admit just how bad she wants me!”

“I hate you! I want nothing to do with you!”

“Is that what you’d tell yourself every time you’d make eye contact with me while he was fucking you? Looking down at me as he fucked up into you, telling you just how much he loves and adores you?” he counters, easily wrapping an arm around your waist, easily throwing you down on the bed. “When you knew I was getting off to your hushed moans? You didn’t want anything to do with me then either? You didn’t want me making you scream?”

You hate that he has a point because, to an extent, you did want one him at one point. You wanted him bad. It’s part of why you’d turn down Edgar so many times. No, you never had any intention of pursuing Curtis, but you were attracted to him. Far more than you were to Edgar, and you felt incredibly guilty about it. You would’ve been content to be alone, but Edgar never relented and you eventually found it cute.

Of course you knew what Curtis was doing whenever the two of you locked eyes, but you truly never thought he’d let Edgar get killed so he could get you. The worst part of it is, even now that you know the truth of it all, you still want Curtis. In some sick way, the fact that he did something so horrible just to have you all to himself drove you insane in the worst way. You aren’t losing the fight because he’s overpowering you, you’re losing the fight because you’re tired of fighting it.

“Don’t get quiet on me now,” he snickers as pulls his top off and throws it across the room. “Don’t tell me that you’re a filthy little liar,” he presses as he rips your top open.

“Leave me alone!” “No, I’m done waiting around,” he husks, pulling your bra down. “Fuck!”

“Curtis-”

“You’re gonna shut the fuck up and you’re gonna enjoy everything daddy has to offer you,” he warns before dipping down and enveloping his right breast in his mouth; lewdly licking and sucking on it in the most depraved way.

“O-oh! Curtis!”

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched by anyone else.

“That’s right,” he mumbles before nipping on your nipple, while his other hand works on undoing your jeans, “I know exactly what you need, you little bitch.”

Your breathing comes heavier as his hand makes its way down into your panties, finding your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“You’re fucking soaked!”

“Stop-”

“Stop fucking fighting me!” he warns, his other hand making it’s way around your throat. “You fucking want it! You’ve always fucking wanted it!”

You’re not sobbing because he’s doing something wrong, you’re sobbing because he’s right. Edgar would probably be alive if you’d just kept saying no to him.

“That’s right, baby. Just let me take care of you,” he moans, easily sliding a finger into you.

“Curtis,” you moan, bucking your hips forward.

“So beautiful, baby,” he coos, finally giving your other nipple attention, “waited so fucking long!”

“Oh fuck!”

You do your best to block out all images of Edgar and every feeling of guilt you felt. For whatever reason, Curtis wasn’t letting you go tonight and you didn’t want him to.

“You can barely take two fingers,” he groans, adding another thick finger to your sopping cunt as you rake your nails across his back. “Gonna have to get you ready for me. God, these fucking tits!” he husks.

“Please!” you whimper, feeling both pleasure and pain at the way he’s pulling you apart, “don’t fucking stop!”

“We’re gonna be at this a while,” he promises with a smirk as he picks up his pace. 

He resumes his assault on your left nipple for just a bit longer, before he finally starts leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your body, pulling your pants down along the way. 

You’ve never had a guy go down on you before. Before you’d been put on the train, you’d only had sex twice and the both of you were inexperienced. When you were with Edgar, you two weren’t free to explore much. The most you’d been able to do was give him a blowjob, even that was uncomfortable.

“So fuckin’ pretty for me,” Curtis purrs against your pussy lips, “been waitin’ for me.”

The first lick is just a tease and you whine in protest, the second is right against your clit and whine his name as you dig your nails into his shoulders, and with the third he’s finally diving right in and claiming you as his own with his tongue.

“Oh God! Don’t fucking stop!” you beg pathetically, your legs starting to tremble as he massages your clit with his thumb. “Fuck!”

The sounds of his of his pornographic moans and roughness of his beard on your thighs somehow make you even more feral, and you can’t resist looking down. The sight of him buried between your legs has you biting on your bottom lip to keep from screaming. As if he can sense your feral gaze on him, you he looks up with a devilish glint in his ocean blue eyes, which have now darkened with twinges of desire and lust, as he starts fucking you faster with his tongue.

Your mouth hangs open and you’re right on the edge when he removes his tongue.

“What the fuck?!” you cry out and he chuckles darkly.

“I shouldn’t fucking let you cum at all,” he bites as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, causing you to buck your hips forward, “but I’m gonna get this tight little pussy ready for me,” he promises again.

The intrusion of a third finger has you throwing your head back in both pleasure and pain, and you try to push his hand away.

“None of that, fucking take it! Take it and then you’re gonna take my fucking cock,” he demands gruffly, applying more pressure to your clit with his thumb.

“Ngh- too much! Curtis please!”

“Then fucking cum! What, you don’t know how? Was it really that bad with him?” he taunts with a condescending chuckle.

You shouldn’t clench around his fingers the way you do at that.

“Not such a fucking saint after all, huh? Just a hungry little cock whore. Say it,” he demands lowly.

Biting down on your lip to keep quiet, you shake your head ‘no’.

Slapping one of your tits hard, he repeats, “say it!”

“ ‘m a cock whore!” you cry out, squirting hard and coating his wrist.

That’s new.

“Jesus fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you through your high, lapping up the mess you made, while you try to come down from your high. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know how wrong all of this is, but you can’t focus on that right now. The pleasure is all consuming, and you can’t think on anything other than how much you want Curtis.

How, in some dark and twisted way, you’ve always wanted Curtis.

The sound of him unzipping his pants brings you back to reality, and you know you’re going to hate yourself in the morning. Hell, you hate yourself now. 

“Don’t ever make me fight this fucking hard for you again, you understand me?” he warns, kicking his jeans and boxers off of him and your bed.

You watch him with wide eyes and it’s as if he can read your mind.

“Don’t you dare try and fucking run from me now. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine, and you’ll always be mine.”

He takes his angry red cock in his hand, stoking it a few times, before dipping down and kissing you like you’d finally been returned to him after years of being held captive. The taste of you and whiskey mix together perfectly, intoxicating you, and you moan into his mouth, as both of your tongues fight for dominance.

“You are mine,” he broods once you two break apart as he spears himself inside of you.

“Shit!”

He lets out a strangled groan, “gonna make you feel better than you ever have before!”

He’s relentless as he fucks into you, knowing exactly what you need as you trail kisses down his neck. 

“Y/N,” he whines when you find that spot on the crook of his neck, biting down on it hard before using your tongue to soothe the pain. “Fuck! What a good girl,” he praises and you flutter around his cock. “My pretty girl likes that? Being my good fuckin girl?”

You’ve never been so full in your life and the only response you can muster is a pathetic moan, sucking even harder on his neck. 

“That’s right, baby. Mark me up...make sure they know I’m yours,” he growls, using one hand to pin your waist down, while the other pins your hands down to the bed above your head.

You don’t even care that he’s using you as his own personal rag doll, because you need it. You both need it. So many years of anger, frustration, and denial have finally come to a head, and it feels good.

It feels so fucking good.

“Oh God! Daddy!” you cry out, wrapping a leg around his waist as he finds a spot within you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Fuck, there it is!”

“Too much!”

“No it’s not, you’re gonna make a mess for me again,” he demands as his movements start to become erratic. 

The hand he’s using to pin your waist to the bed travels down between the both of you, and you let out a choked sob as he starts to massage your clit.

“So beautiful, baby. Love you so fucking much,” he grunts, and you’re not sure if he means you or your pussy.

Your mind is so full of fog that you truly don’t give a fuck.

You turn your head away as you feel the knot in your core tighten and he whines, “look at me...waited so long, let me see you, baby. C’mon...let daddy see you come apart.”

Forcing your gaze on him, there’s something equally soft in his feral blue eyes, and you know you’re done for. No matter what you feel in the morning, you’ll want this again and again.

You’ll want him again and again.

A silent scream leaves your mouth as your orgasm washes over you, the leg around his waist falling to the side as you make a mess between the both of you.

“That’s a good girl...milk my fat fuckin’ cock, baby,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours as he paints your inner walls with his love.

Well, you’ve fucking done it now. 

He peppers soft kisses from your forehead to your cheek, as he rides out both of your highs, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he finally releases your arms. When he finally stills within you, half hard, you let your arms fall to your sides and close your eyes, feeling more full and desired than ever before.

Feeling more guilt than you ever have before.

You’re almost asleep when you hear, “clean daddy off, honey. We’re just getting started.”

He chuckles when he looks down at the confused look on your face.

“I told you: we’re gonna be at this for a while.”

You’re not sure what the hell has gotten into him, and why he’s so forceful tonight, but he keeps you up for hours in positions you’ve never even dreamed of. Exhausting your body over and over again, his lips covering every inch of your body that they can, and his hands exploring every part of you. It feels like heaven, and there’s a pitiful shame that washes over you with each orgasm. You lose count of how many times he tells you he loves you, and how perfect he thinks you are for him, and soon you’re just a mindless doll ready and willing to do anything he wants. You’ll give him anything as long as he continues to lessen the embarrassment that’s come with you finally giving yourself to him.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts from behind as you lull your head back, “ride daddy’s dick just like that. Like a fucking cowgirl!”

“Ngh!”

“I know you’re tired,” he coos against your neck, his beard making you shutter as he strarts groping your breasts with both hands, “gonna fill your perfect little pussy one more time, I promise!”

The thought of you leaking with his release again has you clenching around him.

“You love being so full of me, don’t you?”

You just nod as you grip his thick thighs, digging your nails into them.

“I know, baby. Just needed daddy to show you who’s boss, didn’t you? Too ashamed to accept what I was so willing to give you,” he moans, kissing your neck as one of his hands travels between your thighs.

“DADDY!”

“So loud for me and I fucking love it! You’d never be this fuckin’ loud for him, would you?”

You lazily shake your head ‘no’.

“Didn’t deserve you...he couldn’t make you happy like I can. Like I always will,” he promises as he slaps your cunt.

That’s all it takes. You scream his name as your body spasms and you make a mess for what feels like the millionth time. He pulls you close, filling you to the brim, as your body relaxes against his.

“What a good girl,” he praises softly, his own breathing shallow as he guides your waist to ride out both of your orgasms.

You’ve never been so exhausted in your life.

You honestly have no control over your body at this point, so Curtis has to guide you off of him and onto the bed. You flinch when you feel some sort of fabric between your legs, cleaning you up.

“I know you’re sensitive, just a few more moments, baby,” he coos.

Well, he’s certainly much happier now that you’re a useless and mindless mess.

You feel the bed dip from behind you as he gets in, pulling the cover over the both of you before pulling you close to him. The fight that’s left in you isn’t enough to kill an ant. Instead, you just relax against him as you drift off into unconsciousness, hoping that all of this is just a very strong dream crafted from loneliness and desire.  

The last thing you hear before you succumb to darkness is, “I love you.”

~~

“Y/N,” a soft voice calls as a pair of hands shake your gently.

You blink a few times, coming back to reality and trying to separate your dreams from reality.

“Y/N? Curtis wants to see you in his room.”

Curtis.

All of a sudden the pain in your face and body catapult you back into reality. Shame washes over you, as well as an intense amount of guilt, and you curl into yourself. God, how could you give into him? How could you get off to some of the cruel and lewd things he said? What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Y/N? Did you hear me? Curtis-”

“No,” you respond softly, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

“He told me not to take ‘no’ for an answer,” the woman responds mournfully.

You say nothing, silently crying to yourself and wishing you were anywhere else. Wishing you could get away from your one true forbidden desire.

“Y/N, please,” the woman begs.

It’s not lost on you that she’ll more than likely have hell to pay, but you can’t face him. The more memories come flooding back, the more you want to the train to swallow you whole. To add insult to injury, arousal pools between your legs as desire takes over your body. What the hell came over the both of you last night, and why did you let it win? There was a time that you would’ve fought till the last breath in your body to keep Curtis off of you, but last night, you barely put up that much of a fight. You didn’t want to.

You hear your drawers open and what you assume are clothes landing on your bed, and you just pull the cover over your head. He got what he wanted out of you, so why can’t he leave you alone? What else could he want from you?

‘I love you.’

There’s no possible way he could’ve meant that. He was drunk. He treats every other woman on this train like his own personal pleasure toy, so what makes you any different? So special?

“What did I tell you last night about making me fight for you?”Curtis sighs as he walks into your room, closing the door shut behind him.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even heard the woman leave.

  When you say nothing, he pulls the cover from you, “come on, Y/N. Don’t make me get forceful.”

You just pull your legs tighter to yourself and cry harder.

“What?”

“Please...just go away.”

“Y/N-” “You did it on purpose, Curtis. He loved you and you just...”

“You didn’t seem to mind that confession so much last night.”

“Which makes me just as awful as you if not worse,” you sob, once again realizing just how terrible you are. 

Edgar loved you unconditionally and you let the man responsible for his death fuck you like a beast, willingly giving him orgasm after orgasm.

“Honey,” Curtis tries to reason, going to touch your arm, but you pull away.

It’s insane how you can long for and hate someone’s touch so much at the same time.

Letting out another frustrated sigh, he pulls the cover back over your body and steps away, “fine.”

You can hear the pain in his voice, but he should feel like garbage. You both should. The sliding door to your room opens and closes again, and you’re finally on your own again. As you continue to cry, you if you’ll ever know peace again. If you aren’t, how long will it take you to allow yourself the comfort of Curtis?

Curtis’ P.O.V.

What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s not the first time I’ve gotten drunk and tormented you, but to attack you like that? Confess the truth in such a condescending way? Of course you want nothing to do with me now that the fog has cleared. Yes, what I did was fucked up, but I’ve been right about you since day one.

You wanted me all along.

It’s not like I didn’t care for Edgar, and he deserved more from me, but he didn’t deserve you. Watching him with you was like a knife to the chest every day. Hearing your moans and whimpers every night that he was inside you? Those were mine. They were for me. That’s why you always kept your eyes focused on me. You knew it just as well as I did. Maybe you’re the real monster in all of this, because you used him just as much as I envied him. 

You weren’t happy, you were never going to leave him, so I took charge. I didn’t expect for any of it to work out like it did, but it did nonetheless. I figured if I gave you enough time and space, you’d come to me, but my patience could only last so long. Venting to Nam night after night only helped so much. 

Two fucking years.

Two years of me watching you, two years of me making every other man on board afraid to get close to you, two years of me being a lesser version of myself...two years and you still never cracked. I have a fucking train to take care of, I couldn’t keep spending all of my time and energy just trying make you jealous enough to give him.

I was all set to let it go and let you do whatever the hell you wanted, until I walked past your train cart yesterday morning.

“Fuck Curtis...fuck me just like that,” you whimpered so softly, I thought I imagined it.

Looking into your room made me cum instantly. You were completely naked, eyes closed, head lulled back, and riding your pillow. You’d never looked so fucking hot before, and that was my name leaving your mouth. Not Edgar’s, mine. I no longer needed you to fucking say you were mine, but you’d just confirmed it.

“Gonna cum so soon, daddy! Fuck!”

I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and my frustration wouldn’t leave my body. Why the hell were you fighting something you so desperately wanted? 

Because you’re not a monster at all.

Even without my confession, you’d always known the truth. I could’ve saved Edgar, but I didn’t. I made a million excuses as to why I couldn’t, and everyone believed them. Everyone except you. Of course you wouldn’t allow yourself to be with me. Not without force. So, after I finished up everything I needed to take care, I got drunk. I had planned on being level headed, but you came in with that fucking attitude, and I fucking lost it.

How the hell were you annoyed with me? I made sure you had the best life, and you were still ungrateful. Once again, I could’ve saved Edgar, but you wouldn’t have left him. You would’ve married him and had his fucking his kids, and what right did he have to you? What right do any of the guys on this hell hole have to you? None of them will ever love you like I do, they’re not gonna satisfy you like I do, and they’re never gonna care for you like I do.

You just needed to be shown, so I decided that I was done waiting. I knew you’d put up a fight, but I didn’t expect it to get me so worked up. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard, but you were being difficult. Squeezing the stitches in my arm? You knew better than that. It wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped, but when you finally surrendered, it was more than worth it. You were a fucking dream, better than anything I’d ever had or imagined.

How could I feel bad about Edgar when I finally had you right where I wanted you? Where I’d always wanted you. I didn’t have to say all of things I did, but we both knew they were true. You’d always wanted me, he’d never truly satisfied you, and you’d always wanted me. Whatever your reasons were for choosing him over me didn’t matter anymore, because you finally admitted everything. Yeah, it bothered me that you never said ‘I love you’ back, but I also know I can’t have everything I want at once. I know you do, and when you’re ready, you’ll admit that too. 

“She’s not here,” Nam says softly, pulling me out of my thoughts as he enters.

“No, she’s back to hating me,” I mutter with an eye roll. “I did everything wrong.”

“Did you explain?”

“Nope, I did the exact opposite. I took what I wanted and expected her to fall in line.”

He lets out an irritated sigh as he runs a hand through his hair, “Curtis.”

“Yeah, I fucking know, alright?”

“What now?”

“I’ll go back and see her tonight. I’ll talk to her. She loves me, she just needs some encouragement to see it. To admit it.”

“Be gentle, Curtis. You get angry and you don’t think.”

He’s not wrong.

“Did you hurt her?”

“We both hurt each other, but it’s not like she didn’t like it.”

“Is that what happened to your arm?” he asks, pointing to the bruise.

I scoff with a nod, “yeah, little devil.”

“She’s tough, I’ll give her that,” he laughs, taking Kronole out of his pocket.

“Will you stop with that shit?!”

“You beat women, I get high,” he shrugs.

“I don’t beat women,” I quickly counter, trying to keep a lid on my anger.

I really didn’t mean to hit you so fucking hard. Fuck.

He just rolls his eyes, “Should I send Yona to look after her?”

“No, we have work to do and we need Yona and her ability. I’ll send one of the girls to check on her and give her food.”

I know I should be the one to do it but with how you were this morning, I know we’re basically right back where we started.

“Curtis, should I send for Y/N again?” Sansa asks, poking her head in, disdain dripping into her words.

I can see the pain in her eyes, but I can’t bring myself to feel bad. She may be a regular, but she always knew she wasn’t permanent. All of them know. 

“I’ll see to her later. Make sure no one comes in except Yona,” I instruct dismissively.

“Yes sir.”

Yeah, I’m an asshole, but I’m an asshole who’s in love with and made better by you. The sooner you see that, the sooner things will be as they should. In time, you’ll see.

In time, you’ll understand.

~~

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Here, take mine,” a deep soft voice told you.

You looked over to your right to see that Curtis had taken a seat next to you, and he was holding out his protein block.

You shook your head and pushed it away, “oh no, it’s perfectly fine-”

“You’re hungry-”

“What will you eat?”

“I don’t like the way they taste,” he shrugged.

You laughed to yourself, “no one likes the way they taste.”

“Won’t haunt you like the taste of human flesh though.”

He had a point there.

“Go on, take it,” he offered again.

“You have to eat something. We’re all barely hanging on as it is.”

“Y/N-”

You offered him a half smile, “we can split it.”

He contemplated your offer before he nodded, “deal.”

You miss that Curtis. The one who showed remorse for his actions, cared about those around him, and was actually trying to help everyone and not just himself. Ever since Gilliam took him under his wing, there was an heir of arrogance to him, and it made you want him that much less. It got worse after Edgar got killed and Gilliam soon followed.

God, how could you still fuck him after his confession? If anything, that should’ve made you fight harder. Instead, in a sick way, it turned you on even more because it showed you just how much he wanted you. How much he’d do to make sure you’d always be his and his alone. 

Maybe being on the train for so damn long that it’s fucked with you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just that awful.

The servers have been trying to feed you all day, but the only thing you’ve consumed is alcohol. It’s the only thing that’ll keep demons and thoughts of self-hatred at bay. Plus, for as much as you shouldn’t, you do feel bad for Curtis. The man told you he loves you a handful of times last night, brought you to euphoric bliss time and time again, and you let him hold you close last night, just so you could ice him out today.

As much as you don’t want to believe that the mad man loves you, somewhere deep down inside, you know it’s true. A man doesn’t let the closest person he has to a best friend die over someone he doesn’t love. Yes, you knew Edgar could get on his nerves sometimes, but never enough for Curtis ever want something truly awful to happen to him. It’s not like you ever meant for things to become a sick and twisted games, but they had and the end result was the sweetest man you’d ever known getting killed.

All of this was your fault.

“You haven’t eaten today,” a soft voice rings out, stepping into your room.

“Please go, Curtis. You got what you wanted. Just go, I’m sure Sansa and the others will be happy to keep you company tonight.”

He sits down in front of you and takes your face in his hands, “I don’t love Sansa and the others.”

“Curtis-”

“Why have you been crying all day?”

You’re more than sure the look on your face screams, ‘really?’.

“It’s not like it was something you didn’t already know-”

“Stop being so fucking callous about it!”

“Why? I’d do it again, honey. I have no problem admitting that. If I had to do it all over again, I would without hesitation.”

“What the fuck is the matter with you?!”

“I love you, Y/N. I think I’ve made that pretty clear for some time now, and I’m not going to watch you be with some other man. I don’t give a fuck who that man is.”

“You can literally have whoever else you want-”

You yelp when he effortlessly picks you up and pulls you into his lap.

“The world could be the way it’s supposed to be and I still wouldn’t want anyone else. You were meant for me and I was meant for you. If people have to die for you to understand that, then so be it. I will never love anyone the way I love you, so stop thinking that this is just some fling to me,” he warns, his gaze on you tense and serious.

His words should make you afraid of him but, instead, they make you want him more than you did the night before.

“You don’t-”

“Who else do you want me to make disappear, hmm? How do I make you believe me?”

“Curtis...stop.”

“I love you.”

“That’s not love-”

“Why should I go about this the normal way? We’ve all had to fight to stay here, and I’m willing to fight for you. I will always fight for you because you’re mine, just like I’m yours. I love you.”

For now, you’ll just blame the alcohol as you lean in and kiss him softly. Just like the night before, he runs one of his hands through your hair and grips it tight as he deepens the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you as close as possible.

He broods against your lips once you two break apart, “that’s right, baby. You’ll always be mine.”

“This isn’t right-” “Who gives a fuck about right and wrong when it feels this fucking good?”

“Curtis...”

“Just give into me,” he pleads before kissing you again, “give into me because you love me just as much as I love you.”

Once again, the fight leaves your body and you’re just giving into what you want. You kiss him deeply as your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against him. 

“That’s it honey,” he breathes with a moan, the tip of his nose ghosting over the outline of your cheek. “I won’t take anything you don’t wanna give me. Just like last night.”

You know good and damn well he’s saying that because last night he did force himself on you, but you both knew you were desperate for it. You both know you’ve been desperate for him for a while. It’s evident that he wants you to acknowledge that, but he’s gonna need to work a little harder for that. 

“If you truly love me, then show me,” you sigh as he bites and sucks on your neck. “Show me how much you need me to be yours.”

You must have awakened something feral in him because, instantly, he’s picking you up and standing up with almost no effort at all, and carrying you out of your room, quickly make his way towards his. Part of you wants to protest, because you’ve seen what he’s done with other women in his bed, but another part of you is desperate for it because it is his bed. Anyone else who was on it before you won’t ever matter again, because you’re all he needs.

He growls as he tosses you onto his bed, “take your fucking shirt off before I rip it off.”

You honestly don’t need much prompting. Between the amount of alcohol coursing through you, and the desire that you’ve been suppressing for years, you’re once again willing and ready to do anything that he wants. You whimper when he pulls his off and tosses it to the side, quickly getting to work on undoing his pants.

Yeah, you’re still sore from yesterday, but the pleasure always outweighs. You’ll take aspirin after.

“I thought I already fucking showed you,” he husks roughly, fitting your legs around his waist once on the bed and on his haunches. “I didn’t get my point across last night?”

You bite your lip and shake your head no, holding his gaze as you wrap your arms around him. 

He smirks as that devilish glint comes back to his eyes, “let me be firmer this time,” forcing you down on his cock.

“AH SHIT!”

He keeps a firm hold on your waist as he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock, “you’re mine, Y/N. Always have been and you always will be!”

You cry out as you lull your head back, “oh fuck, daddy!”

“Eyes on me, baby. Gonna make sure it sinks in this time,” he chuckles darkly.

Honestly, all you can do is hold on to him, and he doesn’t even make that easy. He spits on your cunt a few times before easily wrapping one arm behind your waist to keep you in place, and shamelessly slapping your clit with the other hand.

“Please....please!”

His condescending chuckle only makes you clench around him, “fucking pathetic.”

He dips down, the tip of his tongue lightly licking between your breasts and moaning as he licks up the sweat, before latching his mouth onto your right nipple and sucking on it as if it’s his favorite lollipop to exist.

You whimper, feeling safe in his strong hold, as you run a hand through his buzzed hair, “feels so good, daddy! The way you love me feels so good!”

Releasing your nipple with a ‘pop’, he looks up with brooding dark eyes, “and no one else will ever make it feel this good,” he promises.

Without warning, he starts massaging your clit with more pressure than you’re prepared for, and you’re screaming out his name as you make a mess between the both of you.

“So messy and all mine,” he praises, his voice strained as continues to fuck up into you. “Always been all mine, haven’t you?”

Once again, you’ve been turned into a mindlessly babbling toy.

“No answer?” he taunts, his breathing as he stops all together, laughing sadistically at your pathetic whimper. “Guess daddy still hasn’t made his point clear.”

He drops you down onto the bed, flips you over with ease, fixes your knees so your ass is propped in the air, before thrusting himself inside of you again.

“Aht!”

“You’ve always been mine, haven’t you?” he growls, fucking into hard and fast.

You just whimper into his pillow as claw at his bed, but he isn’t having that. Wrapping one arm around your waist and snaking it up between your breasts, he grips your throat while the other hand grips your hair tight, and he pulls you right.

“Use your fucking words,” he demands gruffly, fucking into you harder, “you’ve always been mine?”

“Y-yes!”

“Yes who?”

“Y-yes...y-y-yes daddy!”

“Always gonna be mine?”

“A-an-anything you w-want!”

He growls into your neck as you feel him spill into you, “fuck baby!”

Once again, there’s nothing going through your mind but fog and your body is exhausted. If he wants more from you, you’ll give it to him, but you can honestly fall asleep in his hold right now. He loosens his grip on your neck, and you take a deep breath, not even realizing how tight he’d been holding onto you. Lazily fucking you both through your high, he presses small, wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck.

His breath comes heavy and he sounds just as tired as you feel, “get the message this time?”

You nod as weakly attempt to fight off sleep, “mhm, you love me.”

The next question comes with a hint of fear, “do you believe me?”

“Mhm, yes.”

“Do you love me?”

The answer comes effortlessly, “yes Curtis.”

He’s gentle with you as he pulls out, growling as he watches the mix of your juices run down your thighs, and he lays you down. Once again, you wince when some fabric gently wipes over your extremely raw and sensitive flesh, and he gently hushes you. This time, when he gets in bed with you, you’re pulling him close and resting your head on his chest.

You’re too tired to fight it.

“I love you,” you repeat before effortlessly falling asleep.

~~

Once again, when you make up, you need a moment to adjust to your surroundings. The soreness is quicker to make your acquaintance this time, and you remember that you’re in Curtis’ room.

The very front of the train.

That’s when you realize you’re alone in his bed, and you’re slow to sit up and look around.

“I’m here,” he calls softly.

You look to the side and see him sitting across the room, sweatpants on only, hunched over, and resting his head on his hands.

“You should lay back down, I’m sure you’re sore.”

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly lay back down, “what’s wrong?”

He’s not wrong about you being sore. 

“Nothing-”

Scoffing as you prop yourself up on your elbow and rest your head on your hand, “you’re gonna start lying to me after the last two days we’ve spent together?” and he laughs softly.

“It doesn’t matter right now-”

“Curtis, what’s wrong?”

There’s a softness to his features, and it’s a softness you haven’t seen in a long time.

“I love you.”

You look down and play with the hem of the bed sheet.

“That’s the problem right there.”

“Curtis-” He sighs as he sits up, “I’m not complaining.”

“It’s not so easy for me, okay?”

“It was last night when you were drunk, and I fucking knew better. I knew better, but my emotions...” “There’s a lot that I have to come to terms with, and I’ve only had two days to do it.”

“Well, do you?” “Curtis-”

“It’s a simple yes or no question-”

“It’s not simple! I was with Edgar, and no matter how I may or may not have always felt about you, I did love him and you let him get killed. No, I’m not innocent in all of this, but he loved and trusted him and you betrayed him.”

“That was different-” “How? How am I supposed to know you won’t ever do something like that to me?”

“Because this is different! This isn’t even remotely close...since I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were meant for me, and I for you. I may have been 17, but I’d never been so sure of anything in my life. I still haven’t been,” he states, slightly hurt that you would even make a claim like that. “I know what I did was fucked up, that’s not lost on either of us, and I’ve done my best to show and prove to you that I’m sorry, because it wasn’t right. Edgar didn’t know, but you did. You knew and you felt the same for me.”

“Curtis-”

“Well you did, you can deny it all you want, but we both know it’s true.”

“It doesn’t matter-” “Well, why you’d pick him?”

You scowl and lay on your back, “you don’t want the honest answer to that question.” “I can handle it.” “Lets not-”

“Just tell me!’

“I really don’t think I need to, Curtis! There’s something wrong with you! Something in you is unhinged and it shows!” you snap, sitting up and facing him.

He sits back and lets out a heavy sigh, and it breaks your heart, but he’s the one who wants to know so bad. 

When he says nothing, you continue, “there’s something that flips a switch in you, and this darkness comes over you. You’re moody, argumentative, and violent. Anything can set it off and, while I get it to an extent, enough shit had happened and I didn’t want to deal with it. You would be so soft with me at times, but you could easily lose your temper with anyone else...with the exception of Gilliam. Edgar was kind, funny, and sweet. No, it wasn’t ideal, but I felt safe with him and I didn’t have to worry about him losing his shit on me. So yes, I had feelings for you, but I chose him. I know you took him under your wing out of guilt, but you were also jealous. The more he trusted you, the more you took advantage of that. It made me resent him. Then, when he went off with you for the uprising, I knew he wasn’t coming back. You wouldn’t let him.”

You can see the anger in his eyes, but he knows that he can’t call you a liar. Everything you’re saying is true and he’s not about to try and make a fool out of you.

“I did it for you,” he responds after a moment. “You don’t have to believe it, and I know you didn’t see it, but I did it for you. I’ve always wanted to keep you safe, take care of you, and have you by my side. Everything I’ve done has been for you, and while some of it has been less than humane, I’d do it again if it meant you could be happy. If it means you can have a better life, I’ll do it, and I don’t care who I have to hurt.”

“Curtis-”

“I don’t care how crazy any of it sounds, because you have to be crazy to survive in this world. I’d do anything to give you a better life and see you happy. I love you, Y/N,” he tells you softly and sincerely.

You shouldn’t feel an overwhelming amount or love and joy for him, but that doesn’t stop it from washing over you. Is there a shrink on this fucking train, because you both need your fucking heads examined.

“I’ll ask you again, do you love me?”

Slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, “yes. Yes Curtis, I love you.”

Your heart swells at the small smile that comes to his face, as he finally gets up and makes his way back to the bed, and gets in next to you. You ignore the shameful amount of guilt that overcomes you, because what happened in the past can’t be changed. All that counts is right now and the future you and Curtis will create together. 

You rest your head on his chest and make little circles it, “how are you so sure, Curtis?”

“So sure of what?” he asks, stroking your shoulder and finally relaxing.

“That you love me. How do you know it’s not just an overwhelming sense of lust?”

He laughs to himself and kisses the top of your head, “because when all the fog in my mind settles, there’s still a burning desire for you in my heart. A burning desire to protect you, make you happy, hear your voice, see you smile, and to love you until there’s no breath left in my body. When the fog clears, there’s always a desire to love you with everything I have in me.”

Pressing a soft kiss to his chest, you look up at him, “I’m sorry it took me so long to finally get here.”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry, just promise to never leave.”

“I promise.”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you, Curtis.” 

[offeryoucannotrefuse]

So, I'm replaying Tears of the Kingdom, and I am really hyper critical of stuff, I realize that more and more, but god the game is a mixed bag. A really, really good mixed bag

On the one hand, I don't know if I will pick up Breath of the Wild in the next decade because of how much better the gameplay and combat and collectables and ultra hand and god the new enemies are so good. Horrablins are fantastic, just make a Proboscis Monkey evil, and Gleeoks and Frox are great, and of course it just has literally double the content of Botw, and it's just so good and I got the Official companion book (the game guide, not the masterworks) and it's great and I got the MM and Oot amiibo so now my paraglider can be Lon Lon Milk god it's a good game.

But on the other, they ditched breath of the wild faster than they ditched the Virtual boy. Every single shrine and guardian (minus one) has disintegrated, including the shrine of awakening, so now it's just a joke that the yiga hang out in. So they deleted shiekah tech to make the same thing for zonai And while there are freedoms that come with the more magical Zonai tech, Sheikah tech actually has a backstory, and feels older. Calamity ganon was a known quantity to a degree, so the entire world made an effort to end that war before it began, so there was a tech boom, just like in real life. Then, just like after actual wars, there was an arms collection and the government destroyed them. The Zonai just existed, found zonite, made a civilization that never existed in the first game (excusable, but still throws you off),went basically extinct somehow (how the heck is Zelda related to Rauru, and also pick a new name), made a pathetic defense against a much smaller force than Calamity ganon, and lost.

The only people who have a connection to the era of myth (the tapestry battle) are mummified in the shrines in botw, and it's as if their souls are speaking before they go. There aren't robots that still exist and just tell you everything. And it felt like a valid reset with Botw, a unified timeline, where nothing from the previous games can affect creativity, but come on, the second time collecting memories of someone you don't know before they make a novel sacrifice so that you can rescue them does not have the same effect. Also secret stones are really pathetic compared to divine beasts and the champions inherent powers, although I like the modern day sages powers, but having a ghost follow you around feels unnecessary when the method from botw worked so well.

And Ganondorf...

For those who don't know, Ganondorf from Oot, TP, and WW (and all the ganons) is the same individual Gerudo, after different events and timeline splits. And the most interesting appearance of him was in Wind Waker, when he explained that some of the reason he attacked Hyrule was because the desert was just a horrible place to live, and why should there be green field when his people go without water. It's like 2 lines, but it shows more humanity in a villain than any other Zelda game has done, and when I heard they were hiring Matt Mercer to do Ganondorf, I thought they would give him more of that, something beyond generic ruthless villain, a reason this Ganondorf, a separate extremely rare male Gerudo whose a mage and has the powers of evil and a second form he gets using his yellow magic item, was worth using instead of just letting Ganondorf stay dead.

But the writers didn't, they gave more cunning to the giant purple cloud shaped like a boar than the man.

Really, I just didn't like what they chose to keep from the breath of the wild and what they chose to ditch. Dispute that, I think it's my second favorite game on switch now.

[incesthemes]

as i've rewatched seasons 1 and 2 of supernatural i've been pondering and hypothesizing reasons why john was so adamant on not letting sam know about his destiny. why he was so intent on keeping this secret, why he didn't want sam knowing about monsters, why his role in their hunts appeared to be research-oriented and thus away from the action. my perspective on ignorance and censorship is that it enables further harm, so if john were going to effectively protect sam, it would stand to reason that sam should have a comprehensive understanding of his destiny and what he's up against: give him the tools to fight.

this is obviously not the route john went, so then i have to question why that is—what about censorship was so appealing to him that he thought it not only the best way to keep sam safe, but perhaps even the only way to keep him safe, based on how he begged even dean to keep sam's fate a secret from him in his final words?

so i got to thinking. namely, about the fact that azazel wants sam to be hunting: he killed jessica with the intent to drag him back into the life, which implies that if sam is hunting, he is going down the path azazel wants him to go—he's following his destiny. this aligns with the everpresent theme throughout season 1 that hunting is a monstrous lifestyle, that hunting turns people into monsters. if sam is destined to become a monster, then hunting is the most sure-fire way to get him there.

if azazel wants sam to hunt, then john would need to take the logical opposition and keep sam out of hunting—so, he wouldn't tell sam about monsters until he has to, he'd give sam more passive roles once sam is participating in hunts, he'd train sam in self-defense but not explain why. and importantly, he wouldn't talk about mary, who is the root cause of this lifestyle, the impetus for their revenge quest, more than he has to. if the goal is to keep sam as far away from hunting as possible, and if john is someone who thinks ignorance keeps someone safe, then this more or less explains most of how sam was raised: on the fringes of the family, excluded and sheltered.

but weirdly enough, it wasn't until i was reading east of eden the other night that i finally understood the perspective being presented: late in the novel, the character lee says "when the first innocence is gone, you can't stop."

it made me remember that sam picks. he is a character who wants to understand the world around him and his place in it. if something is bothering him, he turns it over in his head until it consumes him. dean places doubt in sam's head in 2x10 and it obliterates him by 2x11. he's convinced he's going to become some horrible monster because he never stops thinking and trying to figure things out. when his memory is wiped in 4x17 and normal guy sam wesson finds out his coworker is the guy from his weird dreams, he pursues him relentlessly until they're back hunting. when he discovers the wall death put in his mind to keep his hell trauma out in season 6, he pushes and can't stop until it starts crumbling around him. he's intelligent and clever and he wants to know everything. and when he doesn't know, he picks.

and the only way to stop a person like that from picking is to not let them know that there's something to pick at in the first place. that's what the quote from east of eden means: once you catch wind of something, you want to pursue it until you're satisfied. curiosity kills the cat.

and what john is up against is fate itself. something that isn't supposed to be messed with, something that's supposed to be unavoidable. so trying to thwart it is tricky business. he has to be careful.

i think working under that logic his response makes sense, even if it wound up being a self-fulfilling prophecy anyway—sam was always going to find out, and sam was always going to pick. there was nothing john could do in the end to stop it, and trying to keep sam ignorant only made him that much more desperate to know. but that's the great tragedy of it all: john was given an impossible choice, and he's a deeply flawed character. he did what he thought was best, and it only made things worse.

i like this interpretation because it ties all of john's choices together really well; it explains a lot about his character and gives a nuanced and rather reasonable explanation for why he did what he did: a dad who wants the best for his kid does what he believes will set him up on the path to success. when the first innocence is gone, you can't stop—so john does his damnedest to keep sam innocent, even to his dying breath.

the problem comes down to that someone's damnedest isn't always good enough, and that sometimes someone's damnedest ends up benefiting the enemy instead.

[elizmanderson]

2024 wrap-up, part 1

part two | part three | part four

[ABBA voice] here we go again, my my—

anyway, now that I've put that song in your head, let's look back at my year

writing

book stuff

as you may know, my second book, The Keeper of Lonely Spirits, releases in March 2025! so I spent much of this year editing, then editing some more, then line editing, then copy editing, then going over pass pages, then over more pass pages... the process never ends (until it's too late to make changes)

(artist: Xuan Loc Xuan)

if you find any typos in the final book come March, instead of being annoyed about them, you should recognize their determination and give them an award for MVT (most valuable typo) and a kiss on their lil typewritten forehead. because they made it not only through my own fifty six thousand rereads, but also through my agent, my editor, my copy editor, and my proofreader, and I think almost every single one of those people went through the book at least twice

anyway, The Keeper of Lonely Spirits is a cozy fantasy about an old man cursed with immortality who hunts ghosts rather than making mortal friends who will die one day. when the residents of an Ohio town beset by a vengeful spirit adopt him as their own, he must decide: leave to protect his heart, or stay to save their lives?

link to StoryGraph listing

link to signed preorders through my local indie

link to unsigned preorders through the publisher

I also received my first ever trade reviews, one of which was a starred review from Library Journal! trade reviews can convince booksellers and libraries to purchase the book, especially if positive, especially if starred. they look good on a book's resume

read the reviews here:

link to Library Journal review

link to Publishers Weekly review

short stories

because I was so busy with novel stuff, I only wrote one short story this year. part of one short story. back at the start of January.

you know what happened? I let it sit for a few days for reasons I no longer remember, and when I came back I couldn't remember quite where I was going with it a l a s

anyway it's a queer Cinderella-inspired short, and I'd love to magically figure out a direction for it afresh so I can finish it in 2025

in-progress stuff

...we still won't talk about how revising last year's cozy mystery is going, but in my defense (a) I've been on deadline for other things and (b) just nine chapters in I had already strayed so far from my scene list that I had to rethink the whole book, whoops

mostly, I've been working on the second book that this publisher bought, which has resulted in a very terrible first draft full of so many footnotes and brackets that I would almost call it a zero draft, except I can't bring myself to use that term*

(*for myself. y'all use it as much as you like, if you like it)

literally it was 79,000 words, 6,000 words of which were footnotes-to-self so as not to ruin my fancy WIP aesthetic (Blackadder and Perpetua ftw) with comments

anyway, then there was a marginally less terrible second draft, which is what my editor got (a respectable 98,000 words with zero footnotes and almost zero brackets)

THEN I was supposed to take a break and not think about the book again until my editor read it and got back to me...but instead I immediately wrote a brand new synopsis, sent it to her like "seriously you don't even have to read the version I already sent you bc it's gonna look so different," and then a couple weeks later whoops turned around started rewriting the whole story

which isn't going great bc I really DO need a break, I can TELL I need a break, but unfortunately when it comes to writing my brain is like "NO BREAK. ONLY WRITE >:[" which is Not Good. but I am trying to let myself casually poke at it instead of going hard and getting it done fast enough to send to my editor before she can even read the version she has lolol, so that's something

no-context spoilers for this WIP:

(tried finding the original post but could not, so screenshot from the internet it is)

that's it for part one! part two to follow is here! link to part two

[nekropsii]

man what I hate about the fandom excusing the Dave blog with the n word like "it's not IN the comic so it's not canon" is that in THE comic, Hussie was way too obsessed with having Dave rap about segregation and slavery as quips one of the first raps even referenced the slur negro, which textually went over many people's heads (because "it's just "black" in French") when the context was racist white men in segregation-era and how they pronounced that very closely to the well-known slur, pronouncing it with "knee" these types of raps weren't just in Act 1, it was even in Act 3 it's so uncomfortable considering Hussie said "I just type out how I'd talk" when it came to Dave's dialogue, considering his humor and how those raps and the blog came into light it's so annoying how people keep suggesting it's not IN the comic at all- like it's giving "read it once 5 years ago and never freshened up on it while still debating it", y'know?

I'll give as many sources to what you said here as I can, just so people listen more. Wasn't able to track everything down, so some things are more up in the air, but overall, you're on the money.

[Blog of Dave Strider- February 17, 2010.]

I heavily agree and identify with your frustration. Just because it's "not in the comic" doesn't mean Hussie didn't write it and that it's not worth evaluating. This isn't a case where you can disregard it for noncanonicity reasons, like Post Canon. This was written concurrently with canon, and therefore it reflects the political mindset of Hussie during the time of writing Homestuck. That much is valuable information. What I will point out is that the next paragraph here contains yet another phrase that is rather telling of Hussie's... Racial vocabulary.

Definitely not the most comfortable thing in the world, to put it nicely. Haven't personally seen it get mentioned, and I feel like it's apt to bring up here, since this is the closest I've seen Hussie get to the big Hard R. Typically, they default to Soft A, which doesn't make it less racist, but does have a different... Vibe, so to speak. It's more hateful sounding.

Moving on.

[Andrew Hussie's Formspring- Feb 24, 2010 - Mar 7, 2010. Exact date unknown.]

The fact that Dave is a near exact emulation of Hussie themself in speech mannerisms, down to the lifting of entire chatlogs, is telling. As we've seen from Hussie's past work, he was clearly... excessively comfortable with throwing around the N-word, as a white man. Why would Dave be any different? It's hard to argue that Dave's racism is "not indicative of Dave's flaws, but indicative of Hussie's", when Dave as a character is both a product of Hussie's mind and a direct extension of her. You can't truly divorce the two. Dave is racist because Hussie is racist. Dave is an extension of Hussie.

[Homestuck, Act 2, page 294- June 23, 2009.]

I believe this is what you were talking about in reference to that particular version of the N-word being used, as well as the references to slavery. This is in Act 2. I couldn't find much in Dave's other raps, outside of his fixation on the idea of Black presidents as a novel concept... Other than this.

[Homestuck, Act 5 Act 2, page 2825- November 1, 2010.]

Apparently using the term "Urban" to refer to Black people, culture, art, and music is a recurring Hussie-ism, even in Homestuck. Rose also uses this a couple times, notably more than Dave does. It sees more usage in Problem Sleuth as well- unsurprising, considering it is an older work than Homestuck is.

[Homestuck, Act 4, page 1590- March 17, 2010.]

[Homestuck, [o], page 3879- July 2, 2011.]

[Problem Sleuth, page 62- March 15, 2008.]

TL;DR: I don't think there's any real excuse to leave Hussie's racism out of genuine discussion of the contents of his works. It's obvious. The only valid defense for leaving it out of analytical conversations is ignorance, because... Well, some people just aren't that observant. Homestuck does not exist in a vacuum. Hussie did, in fact, write this, and Hussie is, in fact, bigoted. Bigotry shows throughout their works not because they're spinning a grand narrative of overcoming your moral failings, but because they kind of just suck. Dave isn't an exception, and shouldn't be divorced from the context of having been written by Andrew Hussie. There's no debate to be had over the existence of Hussie's bigotry, because contesting such a clear cut fact is pure stupidity. It's like arguing that evolution isn't real because you, personally, do not understand it, or don't find it comforting. Hussie's bigotry is one of the only things we can be 100% sure is a real part of his personhood, rather than another figment of his ironic online persona. The level of "Well, Actually"-ism people will engage in over this is mind-numbing, quite frankly.

Thank you for the ask- people being aware of the racism in Homestuck keep me sane. Have a lovely day.

[cosmicmordecai]

In the Defense of Saw Gerrera......

Ever since I've rejoined the fandom few years ago, my blog gets notice for a lot of pro-Jedi arguments and sentiments but I don't always get the time to talk about another character in the franchise who gets grossly mishandled by fans: Saw Gerrera.

A lot of fans like to prop up his character as a showcase of "extremism" that makes the Rebels not the quissitessinal good guys and vindicate the Empire, giving them a legitamate reason why they do what they do.

Today, I'm going to call out some things I believe are important to remember about the character.

"Saw's methods hurts the Rebellion more than it helps"

I've seen this sentiment come up a lot, especially after his appearance in The Bad Batch. In canon, there are certainly people who think that, chiefly Mon Mothma (The Rebel Files, Rebels) but the consensus within the Alliance until it's official formation is that they cannot be picky and that he and his PARTISANS are KNOWN for getting jobs done.

And say what you want about his methods, but the Alliance themselves have more than one time asked for his help and even when they didn't like him whatsoever. And when they didn't, it hurt THEM badly.

In Leia: Princess of Alderaan, Bail is big mad because he killed Moff Panaka, believing he was more sympathetic and didn't like how it almost costed his wife/daughter's life (despite the fact the Partisans had no clue they were meeting). Despite all the hubup and Bail getting bigmad, it actually saved Leia, as he was about to reveal to the Emperor that based on the resemblance, she had to be Padme Amidala's daughter.

In Rebel Rising novel, Saw explicitly talks about how he doesn't like how they prioritize things but remain critical about his methods. One of his former Partisans, Idryssa, went to form her own group in the Rebel Intelligence but found when she wanted to help liberate Tamsye Prime of slavery, the Alliance High Command didn't believe it was worth their time to fight, prioritizing other unnamed dilemmas. She ended up going to Saw in hopes he could do a recon mission that'll give her valuable intellgience. He lambasts her for it, telling her it's ironic she had all the ideas to help the galaxy but could only hope people like him do the dirty work. For context, that part of the story is where Saw gets invited to the Alliance (despite doing the worse thing he's done in canon), which he accepts the mssion for FREE, and it is that mission that created the reason why Jyn was abandoned (ill get to that later).

In the episode "In the Name of the Rebellion" for Star Wars Rebels, the Jaliandi Station the Empire established essentially made it possible for the Empire to quickly respond to any distubances, including a mission Hera was on that was botched unexpetedly. The episode, while grooming over Gerrera's methods, also mentioned that he already warned them about it and they ignored it, paying the price for it. This stems from the fact all their tactics are going to, ultimately, come to a "peaceful resoultion". They also try salvaging this by wanting to plant a tracker so they can also listen into communications and adjust their strategy. Both Ezra and even Hera herself believe it's a damn useless tactic and destroying it was the best option. Plot tiwst: it was. Empire took a L.

Rogue One had a big point that the Rebel leaders were unwilling to act decisively and Rebels had shown that for YEARS, Saw warned them that the Empire were building a superweapon. The reason he wasn't listen to? According to The Rebel Files, Mon Mothma dismissed him entirely on grounds that it was too extreme even for Palpatine and that she doesn't like his line cynicism. It took confirming the Death Star to convince her and High Command to talk to Gerrera and/or take him seriously, who has since cut contact with them altogether.

The Bad Batch is the most recent of these examples as his attempt to kill Tarkin and higher up leaders of the Empire led to a series of events that cumilated to Tech's death and TBB's eventual capture. A lot fans wanna blame Saw despite the fact that they interrupted HIS operation and he was planning to assassinate both Krennic and Tarkin included. Tech has a "counterpoint" but as the audience, we know thsoe two are instrumental to the Death Star and given Rogue One's context, the Empire wouldn't have been able to have a Death Star BECAUSE the research on kyber crystals came from Galen, who was a FRIEND of Krennic (to an extent; Galen wasn't favoring him that had especially later), and after Order 66, a lot of experts on that field were killed or they hid because they knew anybody involved with Jedi was gonna get hunted too. Saw would of killed two importantfigures in the Empire in one fell swoop and lets not forget it was TBB that alerted the Empire in the first place and he was doing it in YEAR 2, when the Empire was still up and coming and had a leadership deficit.

Both the Rebels and TBB show gave counter points with comparing his tactics to instead using it to gather intel. I wanted to address the fact that despite what Tech and one of the guys in High Alliance state that ultimately, they were WRONG: the Jailandi relay being destroyed was a all out positive and Tarkin and Krennic's respecitve connections is what brought to fruition two big parts of the Empire and you couldn't replace the leadership capability Tarkin had. It is literally no surprise in canon, the Empire fell apart in 4 years even if they were close to winning but even in that timeframe, both Sidious and Vader had to be more direct in their approach and the galaxy was quickly against them.

One of the real reasons the Alliance had problems was because of their leadership; it was a known fact that in general and especially after Bail's death, High Command would only act dependent on Mothma or otherwise be indecisive and stall. Her core belief was on searching for a peaceful resolution and she stood on that hill to the point she ERASED Saw contributions while being okay with it if it were her friends that did it, as according to Bloodlines, there have been at LEAST 2 instances prior to the destruction of the Death Star the Rebellion under her leadership engaged in "terrorist tactics", one that involved slaughter.

In fairness, Mothma had a problem with her camp (Rebel Intelligence) using those tactics but at the end of the day, guess what? She endorced Draven, even when he got on his mysoginistic bullshit with Jyn. The Alliance's own propaganda department had to start lying/exageratting because they found out ignorant people will not listen to the truth (shocker). [Star Wars Propaganda: A History of Persuasive Art in the Galaxy] And guess what? She signed off the destruction of the Death Star, which totalled to about 1.5 million deaths, the majority being civilians and low-ranking officers dedicated to maintaining it. (Bloodlines) Mothma spent YEARS ignoring, underplaying, and erasing Saw's influence, contributions, and her problem with him was personal, as essentially, she didn't like how Saw both underline the very methods she will have to endorce/support/perform one way or another and that his actions didn't benefit HER, as he was on that "IDGAF about her methods" team. All that and she ended up having to support doing the more morally repugnant things he said she would have to do.

In short? It's complex but Saw doesn't inheretly actually hurt the Rebellion in any special way, despite what the Empire propaganda in universe claims and some opinions of characters (typically Mothma).

"He is a short-sighted fool who just blows stuff up"

Another big claim I see fans put out here is that Saw lacks forsight and doesn't think things through. It's a hilarious thing because the "short sighted fool" was the only one who saw the the Death Star coming YEARS before anybody suspected otherwise. Characters spent so much time writing him off, trying their hardest to contend with it, and wanted so badly for him to just do things their way even when he told them they were fighting an enemy who plays dirty and didn't care about people.

Funny enough, Leia in canon (by the time she led the Resistance) doesn't actually hold too must amnimosity for Saw because at that point, the New Republic paid the price for playing with Mothma's mindset, the First Order took advantage of her compassionm, the Rebellion/New Republic's still possessed indecisiveness without a clear leader telling them what to do, and the Rebellion/New Republic did not learn their lessons when it comes with dealing with the Empire when they were the leading government. Leia had to create her own militia to fight the First Order and they didn't have no allies for a while. She actually thinks they owe him a lot (The Rebel Files)

Saw said it in Rebel Rising: it'll take a tragedy, the galaxy can't ignore it to get people actually united. And guess what? It happened...3 times over: the 2 Death Stars got people working together after the destruction of Alderaan (Jedha too except in universe, a lot people still bought Jedha being destroyed in a "mining accident") and Palpatine publically announcing himself alive was the only thing that got people to come together against the Empire/First Order/Final Order. The latter happened 35 YEARS AFTER HIS OWN DEATH.

I don't personally agree with his actual methods typically but lack of foresight my ass. Dude had foresight on a level comparable to a Jedi and he has no Force sensitivity. He called out the Death Star and knew what it'll take for the Alliance to get their shit together.

"He's a hot-head, self centered, paranoid leader who hurts his own allies"

I've seen a combination of things, especially regarding his character youthful appearances in Clone Wars/TBB, that suggest he is a hot-head, that he is paranoid (usually spoken in retrospect to his later appearances), and that he doesn't care for his allies. I've seen people in fanfiction try to say he burns people when they outlive their usefulness or claim he on'y is worried about his own skin.

That's especially not true. There's a reason why he parallels as a non-Force senstiive version of Anakin Skywalker; they are both hot headed, they are both competent leaders, they hate slavery and indentured servitude with a passion, their best trait is the care and compassion they have for others in which they subvert with logic and reasoning and it isn't always easy for them, and they are respectively feared in similar ways. With that said, there are some difference

Saw does possess compassion even with his darkness; he is willing to protect his Partisans and not risk their lives. Even though he loves them, he also KNOWS some of them are on that "Fuck them kids" team (which he is not all okay with) and typically tries doing good things for them, he "abandonded" Jyn (she knows why but she refused the explaination) because his own group were wanting to use her as a extortion tool for Galen, which didn't sit right with Saw. He genuinely likes Ezra and Sabine too. He likes Megyn. He was willing to help refugees displaced by the Empire way back since TBB. There's a reason for his own databank saying "Saw loses much in his decades of combat, but occasional flashes of the charismatic and caring man he once was shine through his calloused exterior". Even in his more morally bankrupt decisions like adopting Jyn as a child soldier, he explains he does it because he recognize that child innocence will not protect her from Stormtroopers and evil who don't care and rather teach her how to survive and fight for herself. And he genuinely teaches her everything he knows. She is a good foil for Leia for a myraidof reasons.

That man had inhailed Genosisian insecticide from a mission and chemical burns from saving Jyn's life and that man still fought. He apprently lost his leg the same year he died in and he was almost willing to keep fighting even when he was going off his rockers towards the end.

In all, it's again complicated when you get all things but he is not this cold man who abandons his allies at the first sign of trouble. He is one of the first original rebels, the Empire's most wanted person that isn't a Jedi or in the Alliance (tbf, he was dead then), and one of the most deadliest rebels the Alliance had without factoring in Jedi.

The real reason fans don't like him

Let be for real; a lot of people don't like Saw is because he parallels a lot with Mon Mothma, who is a white privilege woman who emobdies the traits associated with heroes (restraint with enemy, peaceful resolutions, "rising above to be better") though unlike Jedi, she is going to be judged differently because she won't have to worry about the responsibility of the Force and it's relation to a character's mindset. She is on the side of the protagonist whe emobody these similar traits so Saw is always going to be seen as "wrong", even when the good guys run headfirst into his methods like gundarks seeing headlights. That's not to say she doesn't have her own points, reasons, stife, and whatnot but fans in this fandom wanna side with "Mommy Mothma" for a reason.

Another reason is that he is a black character and unlike Mace Windu, he HAS crossed lines and does things morally repugnant and distasteful. That I will never argue. However, people love having black characters like that to vindicate and excuse their racist behavior; there were people on tumblr making actual comments about having a mob and lynching him after bein blamed for Tech's death and tried to pass it off as a joke. I have never seen peole wanna lynch mob Anakin Skywalker for killing younglings but they'll go talk about it for their residental, white-washed favorite boi (he's my favorite too btw) onto Saw and thought they were slick all the while pretend Tarkin isn't there or "Well he's a villain so it's expected". Got people out here making headcanons about how all the Clones hate Saw for what happened to Tech or xyz knows when most likely, they don't know or don't care like the way they think their faves would.

What personally frustrates me about this and why I'm invested in even calling this out is because, in all, this fandom will have people ask for nuance and looking at things beyond the surface but the moment the concept is rooted in ideas outside Western ideals or the character in question is a person of color or at least is "coded" as such, they lose their mind and spread the most surface level of misinformation and Saw is no exception.

Saw doesn't represent the favored protagonist; he does not follow their logic and mindset, isn't conventinally attractive to people in ANY iteration, and he is a BLACK MAN in a story about fighting oppression and tyranny using some of the Empire's curelty against them. It aint no surprise and yall not slick.

[plasmasimagination]

Oh, fear panic terror, communicate ideas

Hello, I saw all the people giving comments and requests about them. I would like to request the pairing of HSR with the men in the game, the women are cute but I see them all in a platonic way here

I went off the rails... Your opinion about my relationship with any of the HSR men, please do not feel pressured by the request

I'm a human, the term gender is too confusing and ambiguous for me, so I just got used to calling myself a woman because that's how I was born. My MBTI is INTJ, I tried to get my enneagram but I got bored and never tried again to tell you the truth.

My height is quite short for my age, usually people have taken up to 4 years off me, approximately 1.56 meters (I have no idea how much that is in feet) and something similar really happens with my voice and general appearance, I usually wear a lot of pink and pastel colors. My favorite color it's pink, red, purple and white

My personality is usually quite calm, I like to listen to others and sometimes say a controversial comment for the mere pleasure of listening to others debate with fervor. Listening to their reasoning usually says a lot about them, more than any presentation would. For the same reason, I tend to be quite assertive, if someone feels slightly different than usual, I have probably already noticed and tell that person's friends so that they can take care of it, I don't like to be very nosy with the rest, the vast majority don't talk to me and starting to talk to them because of their change in behavior can scare them and leave them on the defensive.

I tend to understand people quite quickly on that side, their emotions are easy to see even with less wrinkled skin, their tone of voice and words give it away instantly.

Outside of my problem of analyzing the social behavior around me... I usually stay in my storybook or my phone all day with headphones on, if my friends don't talk to me I can spend hours reading Andersen stories (Hans Christian Andersen, his stories are my entire existence💕), I usually listen to my friends calmly talk about their hobbies or problems, they usually tell me that I look like a loving mother

When I'm at home I like to cook, clean, organize purchases and play video games on my PC... A housewife practically, When I grow up I would like to take full charge of my home, even without a partner, filling my home with my emotions and experiences seems beautiful to me (I once said that to my best friend, and he said "Like my grandma" in the most neutral voice possible, sigh sigh)

I like to read, write short stories or the beginnings of novels, play with my cats and place a cardboard box inside my head to relieve the sensory load of the day.

Hyperfixation? Cardboard boxes, cats, cannibalism, criminal cases and metaphors

I just wrote a lot, sorry for some misused words or strange phrases, I have a hard time with English and Spanish is actually my first language

(I JUST SEE EVERYTHING I WROTE, I'M SO SORRY)

SWEEETIEEE HAYY ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰

A/n- I don't know how concerned I should be on a scale of one to ten about the hyperfixtion on cannibalism /j

Also please don't worry about the length, it provides me a better insight and it's a lot easier to write that way ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡

Anyway your matchup iss...

.

.

.

DAN HENG

Calm x calm

Two rational cutiepies

The fact that you can analyse humans so well will be very useful to decide what Dan Heng actually feels, since he's quite reserved and doesn't like sharing his feelings

He appreciates your calm nature, it's refreshing after hanging out with march all of the time-

No but really, he does like the fact that he can chat with you about things, he appreciated being listened to, and he is also a good listener

He's usually spending time in his room, either reading or simply doing other things, except socializing

But the only person he lets be in the room, is you

Cuz you guys have this thing, where you can just simply sit in the same room in silence, without that awkwardness, its a comfortable silence

He also likes cats, though it may take a bit convincing, he'll give in eventually and you can get a cat, after all how could he deny his darling

Generally I think you guys would love a calm and comfortable life, not much changes in your routines and just generally two people living a normal life together loving each other.

[will80sbyers]

Don't you feel like Henry's characterization in the game is completely different from the play? Does the game even has any hints about the play? I have a hard time believing it's supposed to be canon to S5, it seems as canon as the comic books and novels, but it's also weird to imagine the duffers would just allow something that completely contradicts the story they are trying to tell, at least the novels never really contradict major plot points I think

No tbh at the moment I think people are misinterpreting the play and describing it as such with this lens of misinterpretation

I would like to watch it on my own to see what I think one day

but my friend that went to see the play when she came back told me all about how she interpreted the story and it wasn't what the people online have been saying, I don't know if she will make a post or not one day but basically she doesn't think Henry's character itself gets changed, they only added the back story to explain why he arrives at that result

he experienced a trauma when he was really little (the mindflayer) that traumatized him enough to make him "weird" in his mother eyes and take satisfaction on taking control on animals etc and then he grows and goes towards that instinct, Patty is the one that reached him the most and made him wish for a different way of doing things because she believed he could use his powers for good but then the story went in another direction, Henry was sort of doomed because of who he had around as a child and the time period he grew up in

his mom didn't understand why he was different and was scared so she rejected him and Brenner groomed him to lean on violence and he followed that because he did take satisfaction from those feelings, it was a release of the oppression of "human time and rules" that he didn't like because they didn't make sense to him, he had too much difficulty to connect with those around him for him to enjoy the rest...

I think the only one he truly loved without the obsessive scared part of being rejected by her was Patty!!

It's a sad story and maybe he could have been saved if he didn't have those circumstances around him but it doesn't eliminate what his character grows up to be Vecna

he has his reasons but he grows to resent things like the mediocre normality of Brenner or weakness and human feelings... he develops an ego and the idea that he's superior and having that type of ego is a defense mechanism because he doesn't want to lose control of himself and feel inferior because he believes that's the reason people rejected him and left him... he's still human

[fincalinde]

omg tennis is perfect and i love how this extends to the rest of the cast so thanks for the detailed response! if you don't mind making it longer... what's the deal with jgy's one (1) slam? and how does he feel about doubles?

No problem, thanks for the ask since it gave me the opportunity to ramble about tennis and Xiyao.

The way I have this outlined, the entire AU is larger than just their tennis careers, which means their careers are analogous to their Sunshot experiences rather than the entire novel. I'll talk about JGY's one slam and touch on his doubles career too.

JGY's slam is obviously a stand in for the climax of the Sunshot campaign. However, at the start of his career he's coming from nowhere, having taught himself mostly by watching others and training with ridiculous if not always effective dedication. His mother used all the money she had to try to get him a good tennis education, but that really just extended to buying equipment and the occasional lesson. As in canon, he's a prodigy whose development is held back by a lack of resources but who develops his own style by synthesising various different techniques.

He's too short to have a formidable serve, so his playing style is a bit like Diego Schwartzman at his peak i.e. clay his best surface, stellar return game, hits winners from defensive positions. But he also has amazing hands and good touch at the net. Just fantastic at disguised drop shots and disguised shots in general. He reaches a number of finals but not a slam final, and hasn't won any singles tournaments. Wins some minor doubles tournaments with NMJ, like 250 level and maybe also a 500, and then NMJ catches him colluding with the Wens to rig games for money at the Challenger level.

NMJ considers JGY dead to him after this and JGY ends up playing doubles mostly with other players who went to the Wen training academy and are still part of that circle. His ranking is as high as it's ever been, but still no slam and no reasonable expectation of one. Anyway, I won't go into more detail, but suffice to say that by the time we get to the equivalent of the endpoint of the Sunshot Campaign, NMJ is as close as he's ever been to finally beating WRH in a slam final because only JGY stands in his way at the semifinal.

Except NMJ is carrying an injury and this is his worst surface and JGY's best, so JGY exploits said injury and wins the match. Obviously everyone expects JGY to have expended all his energy taking down NMJ and thinks he'll get flattened in the final, but instead JGY comes out fresh as a daisy and beats WRH in straight sets, taking match point with a lob worthy of 2015 Davis Cup final Andy Murray. Right after this match is when WRH finds out that Someone Anonymous has whistleblown the entire illicit Wen betting operation and there's a huge scandal in which JGY comes out smelling like roses.

After this, JGY steps back from singles and has much more success in doubles with LXC, mostly because it's a conscious and deliberate move to keep that FO win shining bright in people's minds rather than let them see him not replicate that success. Doubles with LXC is both a move to build a popular brand and also just a thing they really enjoy doing together. At this point LXC is probably the only male top tenner who regularly plays doubles. LXC is also the first doubles partner JGY has who actually respects his abilities as a player and doesn't make snide comments about carrying JGY with his serve. Instead LXC waxes lyrical about JGY on the return and they win, like, everything together.

JGY retires from playing relatively young and ends up director of the FO because I refuse to let realism interfere with my fantasy. He is so good at his job that the FO becomes the most diplomatic and gracious and progressive of all four slams RIP to Mauresmo but he's different. He basically becomes a leading light in tennis despite the haters, and is instrumental in providing greater financial support and resources for lower ranked players plus ploughing funding into grassroots tennis.

[bluebunnymoose]

ooh i'd like to hear about your Labyrinth AU (and also your Titanic if you have anything)

Ooh, going for two! Thanks so much for asking. Buckle up XD

~~~~Labyrinth AU~~~~

I've never been good at keeping stories simple and the Labyrinth AU spiraled quickly into one with far too many details to wrangle. The main gist is: Desperate to escape her mother's control while being cripplingly unable to self-advocate, Chrissy buries herself in her favorite fantasy novels and wishes she could simply disappear. Henry answers that call, whisking her away to a realm she's pretty sure is just a vivid dream. He promises that it is, in fact, very real and should she choose to stay it can be her ticket to freedom. If she wants to leave, all she has to do is find him at the house in the center of the labyrinth and he'll return her home. Still unconvinced it's not a hallucination, she plays along.

For the first few hours it seems like paradise, but during her exploration, she trips and tumbles through a false wall to discover that the bright, fantastic landscape is a pulsing hellscape underneath. Too paralyzed to run, Chrissy is saved when a boy named Eddie pulls her back into the glamor. She begs him to help her find Henry's house to escape this nightmare. Eddie agrees, setting her at ease almost immediately and promises to help. Little does Chrissy know he has no intention of letting her leave. Eddie works for Henry because he believes that Creel has Uncle Wayne trapped somewhere in this dimension (Eddie made a bad wish). In exchange for Wayne, Eddie has to make sure the people Henry brings in stay long enough for him to trap them forever. Chrissy is the last one he needs.

Unfortunately for him, he never expected to fall for her.

Other Party members do show up, though the whats/hows/whys is all a jumble. If I ever did write this I'd need to pare it down a ton.

~~~~Titanic AU~~~~

This one is purely just a drabble of an idea. AU-wise the character mapping is how you'd expect (Eddie = Jack, Chrissy = Rose, Chrissy's mom and Jason = Rose's mom and Cal). The drabble I wrote, though, was of Dustin and Steve prepping Eddie for dinner in first class. Dustin's mom is the Molly Brown analog but doesn't appear in this scene. Dustin went to the same prep school as Steve, the son of old money traveling solo for business at his father's behest. Disclaimer: I really struggle to find character voices, and this is a mostly unpolished drabble, so please take it with a spoon's worth of salt <3

---------------------------------------

Like Lipstick on a Pig

“Am I supposed to be choking?” Eddie griped as he wiggled a finger beneath the starched collar that cinched around his throat, which was honestly a bit poetic. Carver had looked ready to choke him when he accepted the Cunninghams’ backhanded dinner invitation. If Eddie was going to be on their hitlists anyway, he was almost petty enough to let the shirt do the job if only to deny Chrissy’s fiance the pleasure. Almost.

Steve reached over and slapped Eddie’s hand away. 

“Stop being so dramatic. It wouldn’t be so tight if you’d just stand up straight.”  

“Is that it? I thought the reason all of you first-class gentlemen stood at attention was because you all had sticks up your—”

Eddie yipped as Steve flicked his lower back. 

“Hey!”

“There you go. Hold still, Munson.” 

Before Eddie could swing and elbow into the man’s ribs, his arms were arrested in the suit jacket that Steve tugged up onto his shoulders. Steve circled around to Eddie’s front again, tugging the wrinkles out here and there before stepping back to survey his handiwork with a critical eye. 

“How do I look?” Eddie asked, trying not to shrink under the scrutiny. 

Dustin appeared in the doorway. His eyebrows shot up as he whistled.

“Like New Money,” he said, cringing as his attention landed just above Eddie’s eye-line. “Though we’ve got to do something about that hair.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Eddie asked defensively.

“What do you suggest?” Steve asked.

“Aside from cutting it?”

“No one is cutting my hair!”

They ignored Eddie’s outburst.

“If we could just tie it back maybe that’d be enough?” Steve supplied.

Dustin scoffed. “With what? A shoelace?”

“How about this?”

The two young men turned only to stare at the forest-green ribbon with gold-threaded trim that dangled from Eddie’s fingertips. 

Steve and Dustin shared a look that made Eddie itch. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Steve said. “Hand it over.”

“Would it kill you to say ‘Please?’”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Please, hand it over.”

With great hesitance, Eddie obliged, muttering a “be careful with it” as he felt Steve pull his curly mane away from his face. Cool air sent a shiver down Eddie’s spine, as did the thoughtful, appraising look on Dustin’s face. 

“So? Do I pass?” Eddie asked.

“See for yourself,” Dustin said, nearly tripping Eddie as he spun him around.

For a split second, Eddie thought someone else had snuck into Steve’s room, another foppish boy from their fancy school. Then the moment passed and he blinked, taking in the transformation.

Steve’s old black jacket was a little large in the shoulders, but cut a decent silhouette from top to tails and all the way down to the shoes he borrowed from Dustin’s late father’s effects. Chrissy’s ribbon, peeking out amidst his curls, added a soft splash of color and a large dash of confidence as he met his own eyes in the mirror again. 

Overall, he looked odd, but not in a bad way. “Like lipstick on a pig” were the words that came to mind, but even he had to admit he made one handsome swine. 

The farce would be obvious to him and the rest of their immediate dinner guests, but to every other sophisticated person on the ship he had a decent shot of blending right in, pretending he was a man of means enjoying dinner with a beautiful girl at his side (or wherever her devil-faced mother put her). 

Just then the clock in Steve’s room chimed a quarter past six, signaling that dinner would begin in 15 minutes. It was now or never. 

Steve stepped out of the suite first. Dustin hovered in the doorway, glancing back at Eddie. 

“Ready, Eddie?” he asked.

Eddie took one last look in the mirror and smiled like a fox.

“It’s showtime.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Thanks again for asking! :D

[hoursofreading]

Until about four years ago, I thought it was a reversible situation—that those who profess the humanities hadn’t been good enough at selling them to students,” James Shapiro, an English professor at Columbia, told me in his office one day. He had worried his graying blond hair to a choppy peak. Photographs of Shakespeare productions he has worked on were perched among the books on his shelves, which were close-packed. “I no longer believe that, for two reasons.”

One reason was the way of the world. Shapiro picked up an abused-looking iPhone from his desk. “You’re talking to someone who has only owned a smartphone for a year—I resisted,” he said. Then he saw that it was futile. “Technology in the last twenty years has changed all of us,” he went on. “How has it changed me? I probably read five novels a month until the two-thousands. If I read one a month now, it’s a lot. That’s not because I’ve lost interest in fiction. It’s because I’m reading a hundred Web sites. I’m listening to podcasts.” He waggled the iPhone disdainfully. “Go to a play now, and watch the flashing screens an hour in, as people who like to think of themselves as cultured cannot! Stop! Themselves!” Assigning “Middlemarch” in that climate was like trying to land a 747 on a small rural airstrip.

The other reason was money. Shapiro put down the phone and glowered at it. “You get what you pay for!” he said, and grabbed a departmental memo that lay on his desk. With a blunt pencil, he scribbled on the back a graph with two axes and an upside-down parabola. “I’m talking about the big fire hose.”

As I watched, he labelled the start of the graph “1958”—the year after the Soviets launched Sputnik, when the National Defense Education Act appropriated more than a billion dollars for education.

“We’re not talking about élite universities—we’re talking about money flowing into fifty states, all the way down. That was the beginning of the glory days of the humanities,” he continued. Near the plummeting end of the parabola, he scribbled “2007,” the beginning of the economic crisis. “That funding goes down,” he explained. “The financial support for the humanities is gone on a national level, on a state level, at the university level.”

Shapiro smoothed out his graph, regarded it for a moment, and ran the tip of his pencil back and forth across the curve.

“This is also the decline-of-democracy chart,” he said. He looked up and met my gaze. “You can overlay it on the money chart like a kind of palimpsest—it’s the same.”

[bookcrazyace]

Dazai is a Good Person After Leaving the Port Mafia

SPOILERS FOR FINAL SEASON

So I was a firm believer of the whole "Dazai isn't a good person, he just changed affiliations because Oda told him to." for a long time. I haven't rewatched the first couple of seasons of Bungou Stray Dogs in a long time so my examples might not be accurate but I have compiled a couple of scenes that had me convinced he was a bad person even after being in the ADA.

In the whole incident with the Assure Messenger he seemingly purposely lured the boy Kunikida was looking after to the place where Sasaki subsequently shoots him thus leading him to shoot her as his last act in self defense. (I am aware that the anime's coverage of this whole arc was a not true to the source material and I am unaware if the same events happen in the light novel.)

Slapping Atsushi while he's essentially having a panic attack. Seeing how he treats Akutagawa in the flashbacks this seemed like the facade was slipping a little and he reverted back to how he trained Akutagawa.

This is probably the weakest piece of evidence but, when he a Chuuya went to get Q and Dazai held the knife up to their neck. It's unclear whether it was genuine consideration or just a joke. But if the only reason he didn't kill Q was because the ADA didn't do stuff like that then it's not looking too good for Dazai.

But this post is supposed to be me defending his character development so lets start that. It's been the last arc of the anime that made me reconsider my stance on Dazai's character. I will not attempt to disprove any of the examples I made above seeing as I haven't watched that part of the anime in a long time.

So in the final arc the anime seems to draw parallels between Fyodor and Dazai in how they view the world and handle different situations. One good example of this is the god conversation they have while they are in the cells. Another good example is the whole drowning thing where they throw each other in the same trap. It seems like these are very intentional parallels meant to show how similar yet different they both are.

Sigma's entire role in this arc and his relationship with Dazai could really be either or with proving whether or not Dazai changed it all boils down to whether or not Sigma is actually dead and whether or not Dazai intentionally sent him to Fyodor with the intent of sending him to his death. I honestly think that Dazai intended to make good on his promise to get Sigma out alive. The fact that Dazai thinks that Sigma reminds him of Atsushi also adds to my point I feel the fact that Atsushi seems to be someone Dazai genuinely cares about (excluding the whole slapping thing) makes it seem like he would care about Sigma too being that he reminded him so much of Atsushi (I can't help but think that Dazai thinking of Sigma reminds him of Atsushi is similar to Aya reminding Bram of his daughter.) I can't decide whether or not Dazai knew the full extent of Fyodor's plan or not they have the same level of intelligence and are both seemingly shocked when the other does something but sometimes its later proved that they knew all along. In the end Fyodor's death isn't even really because Dazai necessarily outsmarted him it was because of Dazai's willingness to trust people.

Dazai directly stating that Fyodor's problem is that he only trusts himself is another reason that I believe that he is a good person. If Dazai only saw the people in the ADA as pawns there is no real reason for him to put trust in them or at the very least not the extent of trust he did. Also he put his trust in Chuuya, his enemy too and I just feel like that says a lot because regardless of the history between them.

The last thing I want to talk about is his relationship with other characters. If you consider the differences in how Akutagawa and Atsushi view him I think it reveals a lot. Atsushi views him as a positive influence and a mentor while Akutagawa views him as something akin to a god. Ranpo seems to trust him which I feel is all that needs to be said. He also works well with Kunikida as partners which requires some level of trust.

Overall my views of Dazai have changed. I think that instead of him suddenly flipping from being a "bad person" to a "good person" by changing from the Port Mafia to the ADA is unrealistic and likely untrue. What is more plausible in my mind is that throughout Bungou Stray Dogs we have watched Dazai gradually develop into a better person that is willing to put his trust in people in a way he wasn't willing to before.

[stingslikeabee]

“ passion ”

send “passion” to give my muse a passionate kiss . accepting

To be escorted back home was something almost alien to Melissa - simply because one of the ground rules of any sex worker was to keep one's real name and address out of reach of any potential client and go their separate ways once the services were provided. But now, so many years after adopting the alias 'Melissa' and changing into the role of an agent, there just hadn't been a reason to get rid of that behavior when she went out. Old habits, the brunette guessed; better safe than sorry was never a bad thing.

Until that night - a normal dinner date, with someone that could do no harm to her: Spencer was a hero, a modern-day version of a knight in shining armor but equipped with the fantastic knowledge and intelligence contained in his brain rather than sharp blades and gunpowder. It made no difference - still someone Melissa owed her life and gratitude to; still a man she grew increasingly fond of the time they spent together without any justification but a need for company.

There were many things that were rather novel to Melissa in their arrangement - a woman used to keep others at arm's length given her role, Spencer had sufficiently proven himself to have the brunette dropping most of her defense mechanisms. It was easy to entertain, entice and cultivate relationships due to a business need and as if it was second nature to a social creature like her, but with the charming doctor... Melissa did it because it felt nice.

For once - because she wished to be genuinely liked for who she was and not what she could offer.

The absence of a more transactional nature to their meetings was starting to confuse the modern-day madame. Was she reading things incorrectly or was Spencer nurturing some affection in return? Desire, lust, wanton needs - these were the things that Melissa could spot in a men with confidence, but real fondness and love were different matters. There was no business to blur the lines between the two of them, but still... Was she assuming too much? Was Spencer just a good, polite man like the type she was so unused to dealing with?

At the moment of their actual goodbye and with Melissa playing with the keys to her apartment in hand, the brunette turned on her heels, gazing at the special agent still keeping her company. There was... Something in the air, she felt; some reluctance in finally wish 'goodnight' to each other and break the spell, or so she thought. Humming softly, the woman sighed a bit dramatically - and used a free hand to dust off imaginary dirt from his shirt, holding his face delicately for a second without apologizing for invading his personal space.

(This far down the lane, Spencer was likely able to tell Melissa was more physical than some people liked. Himself included, maybe.)

"Thank you for tonight. This may sound surprising, but I don't think I was ever taken back home after dinner in my entire life here in the city. I'm happy you were the first," the woman confessed softly, a thumb brushing over his nearest cheek - and under the lights of the hallway to her apartment, Spencer looked at Melissa right in the eyes - determined and sure; no trace of the uncertainty that sometimes took over the agent.

And without any warning - his hands found her, enveloped Melissa in a hug (tight but not uncomfortable) and brought her closer for a kiss on the lips. It was no chaste thing - Spencer kissed the woman with an ardor that surprised the escort agent, but only for a moment. Dropping keys to the ground and shifting on the spot to return the embrace, she responded fiercely to the liplock, walking backwards until they both found her (still locked) door for support.

It was only when breathing turned into a real necessity that they broke the contact - and while both fought to keep their breathing under control and admired one another, Melissa recovered first - both hands went to his face, holding Spencer as if he was the most precious, treasured thing in the planet for a moment. And maybe, just maybe, he happened to be.

"I'll have you know I have never been kissed goodnight like that either," Melissa smiled, pressing her own lips against his again but like a tease; just a ghost of a caress, not nearly enough to transfer more of her lipstick to his face, "Or invited a date inside my real home. Would you like to be the first, Doctor Reid?" a chuckle followed, "It would make me delighted if you said 'yes'."