#but better late than ever

[drrba]

friend-shaped guys

[ind1c0lite]

SO HEED THE STARS, THEIR LIGHT WILL LEAVE US IN THE DARK

[iamhereinthebg]

Some funflower trio doodles :DD

[front-facing-pokemon]

[harbingersecho]

"your eyes, Soran. your eyes are cursed."

[lizardthelizard]

Thinking about nano!Rimmer again, and, like...

Do you think that Lister ever causally mentioned something to Rimmer when they were in the cell together -just a small 'hey. remember when..?', something along those lines- and that question was followed by an indignant 'what the hell are you talking about?' from Rimmer, before both of them awkwardly simultaneously come to the realisation that Lister was referencing something wholly specific to holo!Rimmer?

Do you think that they just sit there in silence for a beat as Lister starts thinking about holo!Rimmer and about Ace and about whether or not he'll ever cross paths with him again or not? About whether or not holo!Rimmer is even 'alive' still or whether he's already passed the mantle onto the next Ace Rimmer?

Do you think that nano!Rimmer feels this loneliness all of a sudden? This inadequacy, this feeling of coming second to himself? Do you think that a part of him almost feels jealous in the exact same way that holo!Rimmer did when he saw how well Ace and Lister were getting on?

[kennethbrangh]

Ciarán Hinds on The Late Late Show (May 10, 2024)

[separatist-apologist]

The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

“How is life with the cop?” Gwyn asked from behind a stack of books. Emerie was perched on the counter like usual, while Nesta flipped through several new books that had just come in.

“He’s not a cop,” she reminded her friends. The fact that anyone could look at him and believe he was anything but a criminal was a testament to Cassian’s charm. The whole town loved him, greeting him by name whenever he walked down the road and all but throwing themselves at him at any given opportunity.

It annoyed Nesta. All of it annoyed her. She disliked how easy he was to live with and how much she looked forward to coming home at night so they could cook and talk together. She was supposed to be keeping tabs on him and figuring out his game, but all Nesta had learned about was Cassian’s past.

“Did you ever ask him about Brent?” Emerie questioned. 

It ought to have disturbed her how easily her friends believed Cassian was a criminal capable of framing a suicide. Gwyn and Emerie hadn’t flinched when Nesta told them about her suspicions, for whatever that said about them 

“No. I don’t need to ask him,” Nesta said, thinking about how Cassian had smiled when she’d told him what had happened. It made her divorce a lot easier, if nothing else. What Nesta really wanted was an explanation. Surely there was more than just the threat on the lawn. 

She couldn’t ask without admitting she knew what he was. 

“It’s obvious he did it because he likes her,” Gwyn added with an impertinent wink.

“What would you know about men liking women?” Emerie asked.

Gwyn shrugged. “I know enough.”

“Maybe we should tell him about—”

“No.” Gwyn’s voice went icy cold at the suggestion. Labeled the town home wrecker, Gwyn was shunned by all the well-to-do women in town who didn’t want to admit that what happened to Gwyn was rape simply because the man in question was a good ‘ol boy. 

Nesta hated seeing all of them—hated the way they acted so high and mighty, like somehow they were good people despite their willingness to protect a rapist. Nesta would have liked to see Cassian kill him.

Hell, she would have liked to have done it herself, and she knew Emerie felt the same way. 

“We don’t need a man for that,” Nesta reminded Emerie, earning a bright grin in response.

“How long are you going to let this go on?” Gwyn asked, clearly desperate to change the subject.

“Until she gets him naked,” Emerie teased.

Nesta could help her flush. “I don’t want to see him naked,” she lied as Emerie and Gwyn made booing noises and pointed their thumbs down. All Nesta thought about was Cassian—they’d been living together for two weeks and he spent more time without a shirt on than he did wearing one. He could hardly be blamed—it was miserably hot outside and Nesta refused to turn on her oven, so they were cooking outdoors each night.

And Cassian often just forwent his shirt, giving her access to his toned, broad chest and the rippling muscles against his stomach and back. All she could think about was what the rest of him looked like.

Nesta hadn’t had sex in over five years—since before she’d been dumped in this small town. She’d tried to go on one date with a man named Tomas—and he’d decided he was going to have her whether she wanted him or not. Nesta had been fortunate to escape, biting his ear so viciously there was still a chunk missing. 

After that, Nesta never bothered again. No one had been tempting enough until Cassian sauntered through her front door, made worse by the knowledge that he might be there to kill her. He clearly had no qualms about it. 

Still, he’d been surprisingly kind to her and Nesta caught herself forgetting what he was. She never mistook him for a cop—that was still a joke—but she was starting to see him as a man she could like.

A man she could strip naked, if nothing else.

It was Nesta’s pride that got in her way. She simply could not be the one who made the first move. It was making their living situation tense—Nesta was actively trying to break him.

“Do you swim, Cassian?” Nesta heard herself asking after dinner that night, thinking about the black swimsuit folded up in her dresser. 

He shrugged. “I know how, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Nesta leveled a long look at him. “You don’t look like a man who can swim.”

Cassian paused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nesta shrugged, rising to her feet. “You don’t look like you can swim.”

“I can swim,” he told her, falling right into her trap. The male ego was a fascinating thing. “I didn’t bring swim trunks with me, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Nesta said, her tone implying she thought this was just a clever excuse to get out of swimming. She then sauntered off, undressing herself to put on that bikini.

She felt nervous, looking at the high straps of the bottoms that revealed the cheeks of her ass. Not to mention how out there her breasts suddenly were.

Was it too much? 

Nesta threw on a cover up before marching out. Cassian was still in his athletic shorts—no shirt—and a pair of slide on shoes. “Where are we swimming?”

“There is a little lake a couple blocks over,” she informed him, grabbing two towels from the bathroom. “There’s a community pool, too, but I never use it.”

“Why not?”

“Too many children,” she said, though in truth it had more to do with the fact that the pool was always filled with people who didn’t like her, and Nesta didn’t want to be surrounded by people staring and whispering. 

“Makes sense,” Cassian said, though after a pause he added, “You don’t want children?”

That felt like a loaded question. “Maybe someday,” she replied, unwilling to examine why he might ask her that. Cassian only nodded, his broad hand resting absently on his stomach. Nesta was trying to ignore the trail of hair that began just beneath his naval before vanishing into his pants, too. 

That was a little more difficult. Nesta forced herself to look straight ahead as they walked and answered Cassian’s endless stream of questions like she was interviewing for a job. So what if he was hot? That was his problem—not hers.

Except, Cassian was hell bent on making it her problem as they tramped over the dirt path that led from the sidewalk to the lake. Nesta could hear children laughing in the distance, though the rocky patch of shore that she and Cassian had chosen was free of everyone but themselves. 

Nesta pulled off her coverup, ignoring Cassian. Behind her, he made a soft, strangled noise she chose to believe was about the rocks digging into the soft soles of their feet.

But deep down, she knew he was reacting to her outfit. 

The water was warm and still somehow refreshing even in the late evening air. Nesta waded in deeper and deeper, embarrassed that so much of her body was on display. Some part of her appreciated his reaction, though she didn’t want to admit that, either. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her with genuine appreciation.

She turned toward the shore, water up to her chin, to find Cassian standing there.

Totally naked.

“What are you doing?!” she demanded, turning away like it mattered. She’d seen everything, and oh, how she wished she hadn’t.

He was ridiculous. The sheer size of him…Nesta shuddered. She wanted to know what it was like to feel him on top of her. Even knowing everything she knew, Nesta still wanted him. What would her sisters say if they ever learned this? Nesta couldn’t help but take another look as Cassian waded into the water.

Just like the rest of him, Cassian’s thighs were big and muscular—they looked like they could easily crush her, should he ever want to. And his cock…fuck. He wasn’t erect and yet Nesta had a good sense of the size and girth of him. Did he fit inside women, or did he merely wedge in half and call it good?

“I told you I didn’t have trunks,” Cassian said, submerging himself so she didn’t have to feel so guilty every time she looked his way.

“You could have kept your underwear on!”

“Nah,” Cassian replied with a shit eating grin. “I wanted you to look at my penis.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things, if I had to guess. I’ve never seen a therapist so who can say for sure?”

“Why…why would you want that?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms over her chest as though he could see her through the murky, blue-green water. 

“C’mon, Nes—”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, immediately irritated he couldn’t remember the most basic parts of his pretend job. 

Cassian rolled his eyes, reaching for her shoulders. Nesta flung back, splashing him in the face. If he touched her she was certain she’d be ruined. Better to give the illusion of resistance, at any rate. Make him work for it. 

“Come here,” he murmured, putting his hand on her hip. Nesta’s heart thudded in her throat, gagging any potential retort. All she could think about was his broad, callused hand touching her bare skin and how close he suddenly was. “This isn’t wrong.”

Oh, but it was. He still thought she didn’t know who he was but Nesta was painfully aware that she was letting herself get felt up by a man who was part of the people hunting them. Nesta braced her hands on his strong chest intending to shove him away when a new idea struck her.

“This is nothing,” she told him, catching the flash of hurt. “It can never be anything, Cassian.”

“What are you saying?”

“That this is going nowhere. You’re my guard, I’m—if we’re going to do this, it can only be casual. Nothing more.”

Cassian’s reactions were better contained this time. Nesta had no idea what the mobster holding her was thinking. Only that he had her pinned with that stare and his thumb was rubbing lazy circles against her hip bone.

“I’ll take whatever I can get when it comes to you,” Cassian finally murmured, his gaze darting to her mouth. Nesta inclined her chin and then oh. Cassian kissed her, yanking her so she was flush against the hard slab of his body. He should have tasted like the heat—Nesta was certain she did—but somehow Cassian’s mouth reminded her of snow covered mountains and swaying pine trees. 

Nesta slid her arms around his neck before wrapping her legs around his waist. She was painfully aware of his cock and how it seemed to span the entirety of her back. That was likely the water and her arousal confusing her…though she didn’t need to reach between them to know Cassian’s cock was of monstrous proportions. 

Right then, though, it felt safe. She wasn’t having sex in the water for UTI based reasons, and kissing him was good enough. Cassian, for all his many crimes, was tragically, a good kisser. It would have been so much easier if he wasn’t. Surely he had some sort of flaw? Other than his career and his unflinching ability to point a gun at another man's face.

Nesta kissed him rougher at the memory, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip. The inherent violence oozing from Cassian was clearly doing something for her. Nesta knew, right then, that Cassian wasn’t going to kill her. Maybe everyone else, but she believed in her very soul that Cassian had no intention of taking her life.

Why would he be kissing her if he did?

“Fuck,” Cassian breathed, the only words spoken before he returned to kissing her. Nesta took the opportunity to thread her fingers through his thick, dark hair, tossing the pony tail that kept half up off his face into the water behind them. He was so beautiful it made her sick—what happened to greasy older men in sweat suits? Since when did criminals look as good as Cassian did?

Nesta considered dragging her tongue out of his mouth to ask, but remembered only at the last minute that he didn’t know that she knew the truth about him. Better not to tell him, either—what if he decided to tie her to a chair and torture her? Why did the thought of that turn her on? 

Nesta didn’t notice Cassian’s hand until he pushed aside the thin strip of cloth hiding her pussy from the world and brushed his fingers over her aching clit. Nesta jerked in his arms, pulling away to bite his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Cassian whispered as Nesta rocked against his hand. It had been so long since someone touched her—or, that’s what she told herself, anyway. 

Still, it wouldn’t do to just take her pleasure at his expense. Ignoring that she was desperate to touch him, Nesta lied to herself that it was only fair to reciprocate. Nesta gripped him right beneath his blunt head so she could rub her  thumb against the slit of his cock.

Cassian groaned. “Christ,” he swore, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Is this what you like?” Nesta asked, stroking him once.

“Harder,” he rasped. 

Of course he liked it a little rough. Nesta didn’t bother mentioning to him that she did, too. She merely tightened her grip on him and stroked again, delighting in Cassian’s open mouthed moan. Was that all it took to bring a man like him to his knees? Nesta couldn’t think about it given the way his finger was teasing her entrance. 

Cassian plunged himself inside of her, eyes on her face. “That’s it,” he murmured, arching into her hand. “Take what you need.”

What she needed was him to throw her down to the floor and fuck her senseless. Nesta wanted Cassian to fuck her so hard it reset her completely, turning off the endless stream of thoughts in her mind. Even then, Nesta forgot they were in a dusk drenched lake where anyone could walk up and witness what was happening. Normally it would horrify her.

But right then, all she could think about was what he tasted like when he came. Nesta kissed him again, sliding her tongue against his in an attempt to find out.

They lived together, she reminded herself. If she wanted to taste the rest of him she could. It was tempting to ask him to put her down, get dressed, and take her home. The only reason she didn’t want the realization that she’d talk herself out of the whole thing if she stopped now.

And Cassian’s hand felt good against her aching body. Nesta was full on grinding against him, drowning in the feeling. She barely knew what she was doing to him, though Cassian’s desperate panting told her whatever it was, he liked it.

Nesta bit the sensitive skin between his shoulder and his neck hard enough to leave the imprint of her teeth behind. Cassian’s hips bucked into her hand and she wondered just how long it had been since someone had touched him like this. Nesta knew he was close, could feel the vein beneath his cock pushing against her fingers. 

It half disappointed her when he did, though the sight of his parted lips and head thrown back felt religious, somehow. 

“Quick off the mark, huh?” she whispered, lips against his skin.

Cassian’s grip around her body tightened the moment Nesta tried to wriggle free.

“I can sit here all night,” he all but growled, fingers moving inside her faster. “But we’re not leaving until you make you come on my hand.”

“Cass—”

“That’s right,” he praised, licking from her collarbone to her ear. “Imagine how good you’ll feel when it’s my cock instead of my hand.”

Nesta couldn’t help her little moan. It was tempting to demand he show her right then and had they not been submerged in water, Nesta might have foregone all her common sense and asked him to. Instead she closed her eyes and let herself pretend the fingers pumping in and out of her body was his cock.

Cassian used his thumb to draw tight circles around her clit, working her in tandem until Nesta was panting, too, lips pressed against his sun soaked shoulder. She couldn’t stop herself, much like it seemed Cassian couldn’t, either. Nesta came, rocking her hips against him while moaning against his skin. Cassian, for his part, chuckled softly as he ran his nose through her hair. 

“I can’t wait to see you undone,” he whispered before turning her face so she had to kiss him. Nesta did, still overwhelmed by the pleasure still rocking through her. He was sweeter somehow—cooler than the air around them, softer than anything she’d ever touched.

“Do you think there are alligators here?” he asked when Nesta wriggled away, still held in his arms. She twisted to look behind her.

“I’ve never thought about it.”

Cassian only shrugged, some apprehension creeping into his expression. “Maybe we should get out.”

It only occurred to her once they were on the shore that Cassian might have wanted her to leave for different reasons. 

CASSIAN:

All Cassian wanted to think about was Nesta’s pussy clenched around his fingers. The water had washed it all away and yet he could still feel the phantom grip of her tight around him and knew that if he could get himself inside her, she’d wreck him. Cassian wanted her to—was so desperate that he began constructing arguments in his mind as to why they should that very night. 

Fuck her casual fling or whatever she’d said. Cassian wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t end with the two of them together. Seriously together. So he’d lie and pretend he didn’t mind because she’d never give him the time of day if she didn’t.

And what did Nesta know, anyway? She’d been alone for the last half decade, wholly on her own and taking care of herself. Let her see how it felt to be taken care of by someone else. She’d soften just enough for Cassian to make his move…and, he supposed, tell her the truth. After he had her and there was nowhere for her to go but back to his bed.

Sure, she’d rage and scream at him for a while…but in Cassian’s fantasies, she was so in love with him that she forgave him after maybe one well-deserved slap to the face. Perhaps two. No more, though. He’d figure Rhys out, too, which he figured would be a little easier. Maybe even welcome. After all, the youngest Archeron might be more willing and compliant if she knew her sister was part of Rhys’s family.

“Agnes.”

A man’s voice cut through Cassian’s musings. Looking up at the figure approaching, Cassian immediately decided he didn’t like him. Maybe it was the general smug look on his otherwise forgettable face.

Or maybe it was the way Nesta’s spine immediately straightened and her once soft face began icy and cold.

“Tomas,” she said without any affection or warmth. 

That should have been enough to see the man walk away with his tail tucked between his legs. Cassian might have, had she looked at him with such open revulsion. He crossed his arms over his chest instead, spreading his legs ever so slightly in an attempt to intimidate the other man. Cassian knew he was big and he knew people were wary of him.

Most of the time, they had nothing to worry about. But this man?

Maybe he ought to be a little worried. 

“Haven’t seen you around much,” Tomas said, tilting his head so Cassian could see a chunk of his ear was missing. “Busy?” Nesta only shrugged, her fingers balled to fists.

“You should hit me up some time. Finish what we started,” Tomas said, not bothering to look at Cassian at all.

“I don’t think so,” Nesta replied, never one to mince words. 

Tomas opened his mouth to respond but Cassian had enough. “Take care,” he said, shoving past without a second look. Nesta came with him, keeping close as though she expected him to grab her and start running. 

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice nearly drowned by the screaming crickets in the distance. 

“No one,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Liar. An old boyfriend?” Cassian asked, trying to imagine that man doing anything for Nesta beyond getting on her nerves. 

“Not even that,” she mumbled, her eyes strangely glassy. “We went out one time. Never again.”

Cassian felt his blood grow icy. “What did he do?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she snapped, too prideful to tell him the truth. Cassian could scarcely think, his mind running through a million new images. He could Nesta, helpless and scared while a man—

“Did he touch you?” Cassian asked, not caring how he sounded. Nesta looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“He tried,” she finally admitted, turning her gaze back to the sidewalk in front of them. “I took some of his ear for the trouble.”

“Good girl,” he praised.

If only it did anything to ease his own fury. Cassian couldn’t get the images from his mind, utterly wrecking his otherwise perfect evening in the potentially alligator-infested waters. Nesta wanted the world to think she was the kind of person who wasn’t afraid of anything. That she could weather any storm.

And Cassian didn’t believe for a minute that she hadn’t been scared. 

Instead of following her to bed, Cassian once again took his place on the sofa and he waited. Just like with Brent, Cassian decided to take things into his own hands while hoping Nesta wouldn’t notice. Or, if she did notice, she’d at least look the other way. Cops went rogue all the time…why couldn’t he? 

Except, Cassian wasn’t a rogue cop. This was just who he was, who he’d always be. Some people were talented singers or good at crochet, but Cassian’s great skill was with a weapon. Slipping from the house, Cassian became one with the shadows as he channeled his inner Azriel. This place was supposed to be safe for Nesta and since he’d arrived, all he’d uncovered was endless harm that had happened.

What was the point of witness protection if anyone could just touch Nesta any which way? Why not send her back home and let Rhys—Cassian shook his head, the image of Rhys holding a gun at Nesta’s beautiful face slipping into his mind’s eye unbidden. He’d talk to his brother later—but Nesta was off limits to everyone. Even Rhys.

Especially to Tomas.

It was easy enough to find him, though. Tucked away in an old, plantation style house that set Cassian’s teeth on edge, Cassian discovered that Tomas must have come from some amount of money. His father did something—Nesta had mentioned it. He didn’t remember, too fixated on her mouth even in memory. Christ, but she’d been coming on his hand only a few hours before and if life was fair, he’d be in her bed while she came on his face, too. 

But life wasn’t fair. 

Cassian broke in through the back with ease given Tomas hadn’t thought to lock his doors. It was a blessing here in this rural little town—people felt safe. They trusted their neighbors even when their neighbors were rapists, because people in these parts thought you could tell who was a monster by sight alone.

Cassian knew better. 

Cassian slipped up the steps, ignoring the ugly art on the walls and the pictures of a life that didn’t seem worth very much. He might have been interested in other circumstances but that night, all Cassian wanted was to get back to Nesta. 

Tomas slept soundly in the master bedroom, unaware Cassian prowled the space looking for anything interesting. He found, helpfully, a phone with a text message from a woman threatening to kill him. 

Perfect. 

Maybe, he thought with amusement, they’d ask him to help investigate. Oh, how he hoped they would. 

Cassian sat on the edge of the bed, letting his weight wake Tomas gently from sleep. The man looked up, bleary eyed and still unaware that Cassian had pressed the barrel of his gun into his mouth.

“Shhh,” Cassian murmured as he brushed a piece of Tomas’s hair from his frightened eyes. “My finger might slip if you move too quickly.”

Tomas tried anyway, but Cassian was bigger, stronger, and faster. With one hand, he slammed Tomas back to the bed and held him there by the throat.

“I’ll kill—”

“You’ll what?” Cassian interrupted, cocking his weapon. “Will you try and rape me, too?”

“That bitch is a liar—”

“Try again,” Cassian snarled, pressing his gun so roughly to Tomas’s temple he was certain he’d left a bruise. At least the scene would look angry, he reasoned. Like two lovers fighting over something Cassian was certain was stupid given how dumb Tomas was. Still, he was ready to be done. 

“Whatever she told you wasn’t true,” Tomas said, apparently deciding he’d risk his own life rather than admit to anything honest. 

Cassian made a buzzing noise with his throat. “I’m sorry, that’s the wrong answer.”

“Wait—”

If Cassian had the capacity for mercy, he might have listened. He didn’t, though. Cassian pulled the trigger with a sigh, as if the entire thing was some horrible imposition. In a way, it was. He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to be thinking about what Tomas had done to Nesta and how no amount of killing could take any of it back. She was still hurt, would have to live with his actions for the rest of her life.

Staring down at the lifeless body before him, Cassian wished he could kill him all over again. He could have shot him a couple more times, but Cassian didn’t want to risk someone hearing him and catching him in the act. He slipped back into the night unnoticed and was on the couch before Nesta ever woke.

And Nesta loved to be up early. Feigning sleep, Cassian waited for her to speak first. “Want to do yoga with me this morning?” she whispered, coming to sit on the arm of the couch where his head was. Nesta wore a pair of tight black leggings and an even tighter top that made Cassian’s insides achey. No, he didn’t want to do yoga with her unless it was a euphemism for sex.

And then he desperately did.

“Sure,” he heard himself saying like the liar he was. It didn’t stop Cassian from pulling off his shirt just so he could watch her eyes drift down his body. 

C’mon, Nesta, he pleaded silently, Take your shirt off too.

She didn’t, though Cassian swore she wanted to. Maybe he was just delusional, reading too much into her minute expressions. He did catch her eyes slide down his naked torso briefly, and that carried Cassian through the miserable humidity as Nesta walked him through yoga. He was drenched in sweat by the time they made their way back into the air conditioning, panting from exertion and the heat. 

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Nesta he was going to shower. Had Cassian not turned his head at the exact right moment, he’d have missed that look on her beautiful face. Luck was with him, smiling when he opened his mouth to speak the words. 

“Cassian,” she whispered. It was the only word she needed to speak—he knew what she was thinking. Cassian merely reacted, reaching for her body and hauling her upward before she could change her mind. Instead, he kissed her with all the pent up desperation he’d felt the night before, pouring his want and need into her so she felt it.

Among other things he was sure she was feeling. Cassian was nearly dizzy from the rush of blood to his cock, legs trembling despite how easy it was to hold Nesta against that floral papered wall. 

Nesta’s mouth tasted like sunshine and mint and with little effort, Cassian managed to free her thick hair from the loose braid she wore. “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered, certain if he told her how he really felt, she’d freak out. Better to ease her into it.

Nesta merely fisted his hair between long, slender fingers and yanked his head back, exposing his neck. Cassian could scarcely think as she bent forward and licked the column of his throat up from his collarbone until she reached his ear. When her teeth tugged against sensitive flesh, Cassian nearly came in his pants.

Fuck.

He was no better than a school boy. 

Nesta was something from his darkest fantasies come to life. Ignoring how utterly insane her body was—and Cassian was struggling to ignore that fact—the way she kissed was something from a daydream. What would happen when he got that mouth around his cock? Cassian was desperate to find out.

Desperate enough to pull her off that wall, sloppy kissing her down the short hall until he could drop her on her bed. Cassian hadn’t seen the room and despite all the bright light flooding through open windows, Cassian knew he wasn’t going to see it right then, either.

“Take this off,” he demanded, straddling her hips as she laid flat on her back. 

“Why should I do anything you tell me to?” she replied, traitorous fingers teasing the hair beneath his navel.

“Because I’ll tie you up and gag you if you don’t,” Cassian replied, too aroused by the thought. 

A soft breath escaped Nesta, those icy blue eyes darker than he’d ever seen them. Something told Cassian she’d like a little roughness, at least when they were in bed. Caught up in his fantasies, Cassian almost missed Nesta arch her back off the bed, pressing her hips against his own as she peeled off that tight top. 

All thoughts flew out of his head when she took that bra off, too. “Christ,” he thought he whispered, though maybe he just thought it. He had both in his hands before his mouth crashed against her own, teasing pretty, pink nipples against his calloused thumbs.

He wasn’t giving her back. When this was all over, Cassian would drag her kicking and screaming back home if he had to, but he wasn’t letting her go. 

Not now, not ever. 

Cassian was greedy, rubbing his cock against both the fabric covering them. He wanted to be buried within her and in service of that goal, because nipping bruising kisses along the side of her neck. 

Mine, she’s mine. 

Nesta threaded her fingers through his hair, yanking the hair tie out so his own dark hair fell like a curtain around his face. Cassian felt brand-new somehow, remade in her eyes. “You are…” Everything. 

Cassian took a nipple in his mouth to keep himself from saying so, letting her imagine all the things he thought she was. Nesta raked her nails against his scalp, unaware of how good it felt to be touched like that. She wasn’t afraid of him, didn’t revere him. She wasn’t some weird groupie hoping to be a mob wife, nor was she some scared little thing that offered tentative touches and whispered words about if he had a weapon.

No one ever thought he was funny when he whipped out his cock. 

He needed to do this right, to make her as obsessed with him as he was with her. That was, when the inevitable truth was revealed, Nesta would be more forgiving. 

“These need to come off,” Cassian murmured, lips pressed to the flat skin of her stomach as he hooked a finger into the waistband of her leggings. “I need to taste you.”

Nesta merely lifted her hips in offering, leaving Cassian to grind himself against the mattress in order to keep himself together. If Cassian thought anything would be easier once Nesta was fully undressed, he was wrong. Everything about her was a dream, right down to the neat square of trimmed hair Nesta maintained between her legs.

Realizing that maybe he was just an animal, Cassian pushed apart her legs so he could look at her in the golden sunlight.

Words failed him. Not that he’d ever been a particularly loquacious man—that had always been Rhysand’s forte—but even then, nothing seemed adequate. She was perfect, too good for his blood-stained hands.

If Nesta was an angel, then he was the devil. He intended to drag her to hell with him, regardless of what she deserved. He’d already killed for this woman—twice. And as Cassian lowered himself between her legs, he knew he’d spend the rest of his life doing it. Cassian’s allegiance shifted right then—he was still a General, but he served Nesta Archeron first.

Everyone else, second.

The first taste of Nesta Archeron’s pussy was an awakening. Cassian groaned, unconcerned with seeming unaffected or like he had his life together. She was so wet and sweet and when his tongue found her clit, Nesta arched herself closer in encouragement. That was all Cassian needed to convince him to pull her against his face, breathing be damned.

All Cassian could think about was her face and what she’d look like when she came. He tried to look at her, but Nesta’s breasts got in the way of his view…not that Cassian was complaining a whole lot. There were worse things he could be staring at. Everytime Nesta took a breath, her breasts jiggled, sending a thrill of arousal straight to his balls. Did he rush his way through eating her out to feel her wrapped around his cock? Or did he take his time so he could continue staring at her tits?

Deciding he’d just use his finger as a replacement for his penis, Cassian slowed the circles he was making around her clit to gently push himself into her body. Whatever he’d been imagining was nothing like the reality of having her body clenched around him. Silken heat utterly stopped his whole body, turning Cassian into a mindless robot capable only of chasing pleasure and nothing more.

He needed to be inside her. Cassian didn’t want to wait and yet he didn’t pull himself away, either. Vowing he could do a better job, he returned to licking her with a vengeance while his finger began pumping in and out of her body.

Just wait until you see all the things I want to do to you, baby.

Next time he’d sit her on her face and have her suck him while he took his time. The thought was so arousing that Cassian desperately ground his cock into her bed, unable to stroke himself. He wasn’t going to last, he reminded himself. He knew the second he got himself inside her, he’d have minutes to get her off again before it was all too late.

Better to have her come on his tongue, just in case. 

And she did, fisting his hair to hold him close, taking what she needed without a care or concern. Was this love? Cassian was certain it was. Moreso when he raised his head and she pulled him toward her, not worried that his mouth was wet from her. Nesta kissed him like she wanted him, like she was drowning in all the same feelings he was.

And when he notched the head of his cock against her still convulsing cock, he nearly told her everything. How he felt, the truth about himself—everything. Her tongue was in his mouth, which was the only thing that kept Cassian from speaking. He would have rather died than stopped. 

Though, she stopped when Cassian thrust himself inside her, arching her neck to look at the shared space between their bodies. “Cassian,” she whispered, squeezed so tightly around him that somehow, Cassian couldn’t breathe.

“You can take me,” he replied, because what else was there to say? He was buried to the balls in her body and the only thing that could have convinced him to stop was her direct plea to remove himself.

Nesta looked up at him. “Who said I couldn’t?” she asked, fiery as ever.

Cassian couldn’t help his laugh. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, sliding himself out as much as he could stand—which wasn’t much, to be fair.

It was pleasure like he’d never experienced, like how he’d once dreamed it might be back when having sex with women was just a distant fantasy. No one could compare to the perfection that was Nesta Archeron, and no one ever would. 

“You fuck me so well,” he panted, wrapping his fingers loosely around her throat. What did she like, he wondered? What did it take to get her off? He wished he’d asked before hand, if only to ensure he wouldn’t fuck this up. “Tell me how you liked to be fucked.” Nesta’s gaze found his, sharp enough to kill him if she’d wanted. “You talk too much,” was her only reply.

Cassian couldn’t stop—couldn’t stop his desperate thrusting, couldn’t stop his babbling.

“You look so pretty wrapped around my cock. I’ll bet you’d be prettier on your knees,” he said, reaching between them to rub at her clit.

Nesta moaned loud enough that anyone passing by wouldn’t have to guess at what she was doing. Good. 

“You belong to me,” he panted, watching as she began to crest again. Her cheeks were flushed, her long hair a tangled halo around her beautiful face. And her tits bounced up and down just the way he’d hoped they would back when he’d been eating her out. He’d never forget this, would spend the rest of his life stroking his cock to the memory. 

“You’re mine, Nesta,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her throat just enough to heighten her pleasure without scaring her. “You’ll always be mine.”

Nesta came with a strangled scream, clamping the walls of her pussy around him so tight it felt like she was intentionally trying to pull the come from his balls. It worked—Cassian came, too, burying his face in her shoulder to breathe her in. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, not thinking about what he’d just done.

All he could think about was how good it felt—and how badly he wanted to do it again.

Cassian needed to get her out of this place before they got caught.

He needed a plan.

[celestialrealms]

belated white day chibis featuring my mcs (♂) and mephisto 🤍💙🤍

[iamamythologicalcreature]

COC Day 11: Side Ships/Alternative Ships

Fiona and Nico

My sketchy entry for @carryon-countdown day 11. I've been wanting to draw these two for awhile now.

(What would their ship name be? Fico? Fickles?)

[vvanini]

mmmm wanted to draw them so have an annoyed kyle, a scheming butters, mysterion & toolshed, tweek and a creature

[starp00k]

did u know theyre my fav characters

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Okay, a good amount of time has passed, and after having seen this post by @weretiger-be-my-horse , I've been turning it over and over in my brain going absolutely feral over this concept. I need to expand upon my thoughts on this idea and all the evidence there is pointing towards it, whether that be actual tangible things, or purely strong vibes I have.

First of all, full disclaimer: I did not like the season 5 finale, and how it wrapped up the DoA arc. To say that I "disliked" it is putting it extremely lightly, in fact -- I absolutely hated it, and I am still, to a degree, in disbelief that I actually even watched those 24 minutes with my own two eyes, and that it somehow wasn't a complete fever dream. While I'm not going to go in long-winded detail into all the ways that I feel like the finale almost completely bastardized all of its featured characters and destroyed any and all buildup we've had going on in this arc for 50 some chapters now, because that's not the main point of this post, I will not make any attempt to hide the fact that the theory-crafting I'm about to pose here is partly influenced and prompted by how much I hated the finale, and how much I desperately hope that it will not end up being manga canon. Therefore, if you enjoyed the finale — and that's fine! — and don't want to read any negativity about it, then I would not recommend reading any further (I mean, you've probably already left by this point, which is fair lol), While obviously it's important that I be as objective and unbiased as possible when explaining my thoughts, some of my negative feelings about the writing will be a part of this analysis, even if this isn't going to be a full-blown rant. Just know that if you proceed.

With that out of the way, let me continue.

So. In the aforementioned post, the theory presented is that the anime may be operating on an alternate timeline, and that this will become evident once we read the upcoming October chapter, wherein things will go completely differently post-chapter 110 than they do in the final episode — probably for the worse, with the s5 finale intending to lull us into a false sense of security and make us assume that everything in the manga arc finale will wrap up as smoothly and consequence-freely(? lol) as it did in the anime one. It also suggests that the Fukuchi we see at the very end that sskk are fighting came from the manga timeline, where he won, and that he used the Book to jump to a timeline where he lost, the anime one, proven by the fact that this Fukuchi is wearing a mask with the same design on it as the mask Fukuchi is wearing on the chapter 110 DoA color spread/title page.

First of all, I want to note the fact that it's not just the mask design that's the same: the entire outfit is roughly more or less the same as well. It's not completely 1-to-1, because the anime can never fully match the intricacies of Harukawa's beautiful outfit designs, and the Fukuchi in this scene has the kimono half-off because of the... super saiyan mode he's in, but most all of the main pieces of clothing are there. Any small inaccuracies could also be attributed to the fact that Harukawa probably didn't have this finalized art ready back when this episode was being made, so the animators wouldn't have had the complete design to work off of. But in general, because it's all so similar, I think we can quite confidently say that the ending episode Fukuchi is meant to be the one from this manga art.

Also, people have pointed this out, but it's worth mentioning that the mask Asagiri wore at Anime Expo in July was referencing this Fukuchi. It's not a crucial detail, but it just proves more that Asagiri is a gigantic fucking troll, and that he clearly wanted to draw attention to this Fukuchi design. It's important. He describes the mask here as made in the motif of an ellipses inside a speech bubble... could that perhaps be referencing meta aspects, like the Book?

Next, I want to talk about the even bigger elephant in the room, which to me is the most damning and undeniable piece of evidence there is of the anime operating on a completely separate timeline from the manga:

This Fucking Hand™️

As we all know, in the anime, Fyodor injures his hand when the password input device blows up, and as we all know, this does not happen in the manga. In the last episode, Dazai claims that the final nail in the coffin of his impromptu plan to kill Fyodor relied on this hand injury: because Fyodor couldn't pilot his escape helicopter himself, he would ask one of his Meursault vampires to do it for him, unaware that Bram and thus this vampire was now on the ADA's side, and said vampire could kill him while his guard was down.

Ignoring how utterly stupid and contrived this plan is when you stop and think about it for more than two seconds, the fact of the matter is that something that initially seemed like nothing more than an odd but inconsequential anime original addition ended up snowballing into being the entire reason one of the big bads was brought down. If Fyodor hadn't hurt his hand, he wouldn't have needed another pilot, and so the traitor vampire wouldn't have had an opportunity to get near him and kill him without him expecting it even though said vampire was presumably with him as they were leaving Meursault, and was probably already a traitor by then, so there was plenty opportunity for him to still die. not to mention by Chuuya's hands at literally any time he wanted to, because Chuuya was coherent the whole time. Also there's absolutely no way Dazai could have known exactly what Ranpo would do, no matter how smart he is and how much he trusts him. idk it's fucking dumb, just roll with it. Therefore, putting aside all other variables for now, we can conclude that, on the most basic level, this signifies that no hand wound = no death.

And let me tell you, this hand wound bothers me. It really, really does. Because they focus on it a LOT — they go out of their way to draw attention to it MULTIPLE TIMES, from the moment it first happens to the end of the season. Fyodor even talks about it to himself, about Dazai being able to cause him tangible, visible, bodily harm, (something that, again, as far as we've seen, has never happened in the manga). Hell, even after Fyodor's death, they're still drawing attention to it, because his right arm is all of him that survives, and Dazai picks it up and gives it to Nikolai to do his hilarious sad little gay fondling of it played completely straight even though there's nothing straight going on here at all! It's like it's a big red flashing sign at all times going "you see this injured hand? This is important. Are you picking up that it's important? Are you taking note of it?" Why is that? Obviously, it serves to give us the lore crumbs about Fyodor and "that man", but that's hardly the main, much more glaring reason, as I've already mentioned.

Fyodor doesn't hurt his hand in the manga. Fyodor won't die here in the manga. I am so dead serious by this point about this, and it's not just simply the fact that this was absolutely not at all the time for him to die, or the fact that his hand is the reason for his death in the anime in and of itself, but how much EMPHASIS they place on this, and on the hand in general. What would be the point of adding something like this, if it's not meant to alert us to the fact that it has a major impact on how the story plays out? We all know Bones: they struggle to get right and include everything that's already there in the source material; they would never go out of their way to add something this noteworthy if there wasn't a very good reason for it, if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I've seen a few people bring up the fact that Fyodor gets shot in the shoulder by Sigma and that that could lead to the same outcome in the manga, but I disagree: although he has blood on his shoulder in the manga, it seems like the bullet just grazed the top of it, because his arm and hand appears completely functional afterwards (not hanging limp by his side or anything). But that doesn't even matter, because this isn't even about the semantics/logistics of how the hand wound caused Fyodor's death because again, it's a stupid outcome, or what could serve as a substitute in the manga — thematically, this is a textbook example of the butterfly effect. Countless parallel universes exist within this series, ones where even the most minute differences lead to a majorly different outcome: this just happens to be one of them. There's no reason to think it isn't, and there's no reason to not think that the anime wants us to clue into the fact that things only went as smoothly as they did on the Meursault side because of this wound; in other words, that things will go very differently in the manga thanks to the absence of said wound. They wouldn't have added it in the first place and put such clearly deliberate emphasis on it otherwise.

Things are going to happen very differently in the manga, at least when it comes to the Meursault crew (but then, if you assume that, you then naturally assume it all will be very different). This is the only conclusion one can come to with the presentation of this anime-only wound, combined with the fact that parallel universes are a very real thing in BSD.

I'm going to go on a bit of a tangent, so bear with me. I play a lot of visual novels, and although such concepts aren't really as original now as they were a while ago, some of my favorite and some of the very best VNs out there are the ones that break the fourth wall and make the visual novel branching route format directly intertwined with the story: you know, the ones where the characters go "if only I had done things differently, maybe everything would have turned out better...!" in a wink wink nudge nudge moment, and the ones where the characters are aware of the different timelines, even, or even have the ability to gain information from their selves in said alternate timelines to influence events in their current one (I'm intentionally not naming the games I'm thinking of for the sake of spoilers, but if you know, you know lmao). It gets very meta in this regard, and this is how I started viewing BSD through the lens of ever since I first learned about Beast: like a visual novel with many branching routes, and only a few routes that feel entirely "right".

When I first read Dazai's Entrance Exam, I was struck by how unnerving the ending sequence in the abandoned hospital felt. Obviously, Kunikida's internal struggle over Sasaki's actions and motives is him still desperately clinging to his ideal world that does not exist, but the specific type of phrases he uses — "who is wrong?" "[who is] the cause of all this?" "there has to be an ideal world" "there has to be something, I'm sure of it" "There must have been something we could have done!" — and the framing of the scene in general, is eerily reminiscent of a bad ending in a visual novel, to me. There's a haunting, looming, bleak sense that a different outcome could have been achieved, if different decisions had been made, or if things outside of anyone's control had been different... and we know that this is true, because in Beast alone, Kunikida never goes through the Azure Messenger incident, because Dazai doesn't have his entrance exam. Hell, you could even consider the anime's version of the Azure Messenger arc an alternate timeline in of itself, if you really wanted to, long before we even arrive at season 5.

When it comes to Beast, this timeline has almost the opposite feeling of what I described above, that I've also encountered in visual novels: the idea of a "good route" or "good ending" that still doesn't feel quite earned, or as perfect as one would expect. Beast is presented as the "ideal" timeline purely for one sole reason: Oda is alive. It is the only timeline where he's alive, and keeping Oda alive is the ultimate goal Dazai wants to achieve, the only reason this timeline exists; therefore, disregarding all else, Beast should be the best timeline, because Oda's death is the greatest devastation in the series to date. We all want him to live, so why wouldn't the timeline where he does be the best one? And yet... of course, it isn't. Dazai is alone, and steeped in darkness and loneliness without Oda, and dies by the end of the story for Oda's continued living. Atsushi has Kyouka still, but he's suffering and more traumatized, and unable to heal while stuck in the mafia, and neither can Kyouka. Akutagawa is living a much better life in the ADA... but without his sister, and without what he has from his bond with Atsushi in canon, that isn't replicated in Beast. And Oda... Oda is alive, and he has his children and his novel, but there is a feeling that he is aimless, that something in his life is missing. He has everything he ever wanted, but all that means nothing without what he truly needs: Dazai, and his time with Dazai and Ango at the bar. In this way, things going well and us getting what we want — in this case, Oda living — goes against how it's supposed to be, the natural order, which is why it feels so hollow. In the specific visual novel I'm thinking of here as a comparison (again, shoutout if you know), there's an alternate ending that involves you inputting information you gain at the end of the game very early on in the game, wherein the protagonist now has memories of the future and is able to bypass and prevent all of the events that take place normally. This means that people who die or are hurt somehow in general are saved from that fate, and nothing bad ever occurs; everything wraps up neatly and nicely... but again, there's an undeniable, unsettling feeling of emptiness, of a victory that rings hollow, because what's the point if everything is simply handed to you easily, where's the sense of accomplishment, without any struggles to achieve said victories, or any growth along the way? How can it feel earned if one doesn't have to, in Dazai's words, "scream within the storm of uncertainty, and run with flowing blood"?

You can probably already see where I'm going with this.

This finale feels weird. Really, really weird. It feels too cheap, too simple, too unsatisfying. So much so, in fact, that for almost the entire runtime, as I was bombarded with resolution upon resolution one after another, I kept thinking "There's no way this can be real. Where's the catch? When is the "gotcha!" moment gonna happen? The "it was all a dream" reveal?". And this isn't just because I hated the writing, and that it really did feel like a fever dream watching fanfic levels of bad (actually, that's an insult to fanfic writers, tbh; they could do better) — no, it genuinely feels so incredibly fake. Even upon rewatching it and already knowing what happens, my brain still naturally keeps expecting some kinda of "sike, you THOUGHT!" moment to suddenly appear. It just.... feels "too good to be true". Dazai and Chuuya come out unscathed, and it's revealed that they were never in any real danger to begin with. Fyodor, one of our biggest threats, is dealt with supposedly for good (I say "supposedly" only because of the Jesus line, but if anything imo, I think that's just a hint that this won't be the canon ending in the manga, so in a sense he's going to "come back to life"), and Nikolai seems somewhat at peace with his death. The other biggest threat, Fukuchi, is also dealt with, and he and Fukuzawa get their final moment together of closure. Yes, Sigma is left in Meursault don't even get me started on how angry this alone makes me, and Fukuzawa loses Fukuchi, but overall, everything is portrayed in a positive light, and any negatives or losses are quickly glossed over. Everything is tied up nicely, neatly, and smoothly. ...And that is exactly what makes it feel so wrong, and hard to trust in.

I'm not sure if this will make sense, but to me, the finale is so incredibly poorly written that it almost feels.... intentional. It's so bad to the point of feeling self-aware in how bad it is, how unrealistically happy and convenient an ending it is. It had to end this neatly in order to rush to wrap up this arc for the season finale and not leave the last episode on a cliffhanger — which imo is chiefly the main reason it turned out this way, and, if this whole theory is true, Asagiri just used it to his advantage — and I'm not saying this was probably an effect Bones had in mind intentionally, I'm sure they just threw shit at the wall and went with whatever stuck, maaaaybe with some suggestions/approval from Asagiri, but the result is that you have a conclusion that contradicts so much of what was set up before and goes against so many character arcs, making some characters so out of character and even regressing in their development Dazai. I'm talking about Dazai abandoning Sigma, because he would never; hashtag #NOTMYDAZAI. Also Nikolai, Nikolai for most of that is so ooc I can't even begin to describe it oh my god. Everyone is OOC to a degree though lmao, and opens so many plot holes, to the point that it's impossible not to watch all that and get the feeling that it is subtly saying to you "did you really think it could be this easy? It feels wrong, doesn't it? It doesn't feel satisfying. It feels unearned." I find it incredibly interesting and suspicious in particular that they confirmed multiple theories people had about soukoku in Meursault: that Chuuya slowed the elevator's fall so that Dazai wouldn't die from it, that Chuuya slowed down the bullet so that it only penetrated Dazai's skin and not his skull, and that the both of them used Fyodor's camera angle to their advantage because they knew he wouldn't be able to see certain things from his view. I'm not saying that Asagiri trawled BSD twitter and tumblr after those chapters dropped for the most popular theories before the final episode was made lmao, there was no time for that (imagine though lol—), but I do think it's highly likely that he already had in mind exactly what theories would be made about these parts (I mean, the evidence for the gun scene was all there), and that Dazai rattling them off in his long monologue to Fyodor at the end is essentially him speaking to the audience and going "yeah, that's what you would predict, right? Those are the clichés, after all", much like him suggesting earlier that he can maybe bring Chuuya back to himself with a few moving words and the power of friendship, and Fyodor using the split personalities trope to fool Sigma. We expect these tropes to be true. Of course we'd fall for them, as Fyodor tells Sigma, especially if the evidence is right there. But Asagiri himself has explicitly said that he likes doing the opposite of what people expect. And so just because people predicted correctly with the three things I mentioned in this timeline... doesn't mean they'll be true in the manga's. Things happened how we wanted and expected it to, and everything turned out happily. So we can relax now, right? Everything will work out just as easily in the manga, right? Or... is the reason most of this finale feels so fake and unsettling and unsatisfying because it's meant to lull us into a false sense of security before all our heroes lose in the manga? Because deep down, we don't want an ending that's this simple, because we'd rather have a conclusion where our characters have struggled more and grown more and come out the better for it, and we know it?

After rewatching the episode a lot, and watching some other videos, and doing a lot of thinking, I am pretty confident in suspecting that the only part of this finale that is actually from manga canon, aside from Aya jumping off the building of course, is Fyodor and Nikolai's exchange after Fyodor leaves Meursault — specifically, them talking about Fyodor leaving Sigma behind, and their "new game" and Nikolai being excited at the prospect of it. This little conversation actually feels in character for them, and it's easy to tell this when contrasting it with everything that happens immediately after, wherein Fyodor is fatally stabbed, and Nikolai, completely at odds with what he was just talking about, just... stands there and watches Fyodor die while Dazai monologues lmao. I'm not sure if the helicopter is still a factor, but I would bet good money on Fyolai getting out of Meursault being manga canon, and that Dazai and Chuuya getting out as well and killing Fyodor + everything with FukuFuku, is part of the anime original ending, in order to wrap up everything positively. It makes much more sense if you think about, in reality (aka in the manga), Dazai and Chuuya still being left behind in Meursault (where they can eventually try to get Sigma), because none of it was an act and things did not go according to plan, and Fukuchi having an entirely different goal that doesn't feel so stupid and contradictory to his character, and Fukuzawa possibly dying — everyone seemingly loses, with Aya still being the last hope, perhaps by awakening her ability like we all speculated.

There's a youtuber I watch who covers BSD in-depth, despite being an anime-only (she reads the respective manga content after each season, though). Going into this finale, she knew about the fact that the anime had overtaken the manga, though she didn't know where the cutoff point was; despite that, however, she made predictions about what was from the manga so far and what was anime original, and it was almost entirely spot-on, based mostly on what she basically described as "anime original dialogue." She talked about how you can always tell when dialogue is veering into the realm of anime-original, because the sentences are very short, choppy, and slightly out of character, but generic enough to not be TOO out of character, and so that anyone can easily write said lines, even if they're not extremely familiar with the character like the original author would be. And when I heard this explanation, everything clicked — because so much of this finale has dialogue like that. The Fyolai scenes just feel peppered with it, around the lines I mentioned earlier, the Dazai dialogue does too, and ESPECIALLY shit at the end like Fukuchi and Fukuzawa exchanging the cliche death lines to end all death lines: "Are you there? I'm a little tired." "Rest up." That just isn't Bungou Stray Dogs. That isn't Asagiri. BSD is cheesy at times, yes, but it isn't like this; it's smarter. The dialogue is smarter, the explanations/plot twists are smarter, Asagiri is smarter, and the aforementioned youtuber I watched agreed. She's a pretty casual fan of the series, so if even she could pick up on these things, I think it speaks volumes.

I mentioned this briefly earlier, but this theory makes sense if you consider that this situation probably came about because of Bones wanting two seasons back-to-back when they did, and this arc being as long as it is. Season 3 aired in 2019, and I imagine Bones would have wanted season 4 in 2020, and might have then been willing to wait a bit longer for season 5 in order for more of this arc's manga chapters to come out — but then covid happened. Because of that, season 4 was delayed to 2023, creating the longest gap we've had between seasons, and I wouldn't at all be surprised if the delay made them want season 5 right together with it, after getting so far "behind", so to speak. S4 was announced in November of 2021, and roughly around that time, Asagiri was finishing up writing the plot of the DoA arc. If Bones came to him sometime in late 2021 and said they wanted two seasons now (so basically, one giant two cour season), Asagiri would know that not only of course would this arc not be finished publishing in the manga for a very long time yet, but that roughly 20ish episodes would not be enough to cover it all to the end, with this arc being longer than any arc the anime has adapted to date. Because of all this, and the arc manga chapters being nowhere near fully drawn to completion, he'd have to make a decision about what to do, and what to give Bones. Without ending season 5 on a massive cliffhanger that wouldn't be resolved for years until an eventual season 6, the only other option would be to rush towards an anime-original ending for the DoA arc.... and for Asagiri to take advantage of that, and integrate it into BSD's lore. Thereby creating a truly unique cross-media experience that utilizes the different mediums to create multiple timelines, that could make both the anime and manga interact with each other and become part of a bigger picture (not that you'd need to see both to get the full experience, mind you, just that it'd provide a little bonus if you did).... and would without a doubt be Asagiri's biggest surprise yet.

...I feel like at this point I'm starting to ramble, and my evidence become more and more incoherent and less substantial lmao, so I should probably end this post. 💀 Thank you if you've read this far, and hopefully it made some semblance of sense, despite not being structured very well; I know I promised at the start to try to be as objective as possible and curb my negative feelings, but I'm not sure how well I succeeded in that regard. If it weren't for the Fukuchi thing and the Fyodor hand thing, I probably wouldn't take how wrong and strange and bad the finale feels to me as serious evidence about it being an alternate timeline, especially since I seem to be one of the only people who actually hates all of it.... but combined with everything else, I am just so convinced of this theory being true. It started off as pure copium, but as more time has gone on, I fully, 100% believe in my bones (ha) that there is no way that finale is the same Bungou Stray Dogs I know and love, for so many reasons. It just isn't. It can't be. I know BSD better than this, I know Asagiri better than this, and I know that it's absolutely in the realm of possibility for him to cook up this whole scheme to completely blindside us with in the upcoming chapters, because that's exactly the kind of shit Mr. "Please Be Surprised!" himself would pull. If I end up being completely wrong, I guess I'm wrong, and you can laugh at me all you want then.... but I just know that ages ago people were teasing the idea of the anime operating on a different timeline from the manga, and I truly do think that only now are we finally seeing that idea come to fruition, as a setup for Asagiri going full-bore insanity with the Book in the upcoming arc(s). if I and the OP of that theory end up right, this will be the wildest time in the BSD fandom's history.

Like. I cannot even emphasize how hard they are trolling us at this point. Something is going on. Something is being cooked over there, the likes of which we've never seen before... and I don't think any of us are ready for it.

Oh yeah, and one last thing of note: both Fyodor and Nikolai here have their right arms hidden from view. Is that alluding to anything? I'm not sure. I also think that since chapter 110 was so short, next chapter will likely be 110.5 instead of 111, and if that's the case, this title spread could still technically be associated with the next chapter... wherein we might see this Fukuchi, who ends up wreaking havoc, right before he jumps to the timeline in the anime, as we see him at the end of the s5 finale.

I guess we'll find out on Tuesday.

[ante--meridiem]

Got an assessment back from one of my applications and while I still don't know if they'll actually pick me or not it is a relief to have formal confirmation that my applications aren't considered embarrassingly bad.

[booasaur]

NCIS: Hawai’i - 2x16

[soni-dragon]

y’all i just found this and i can’t believe I didn’t post it it’s from a year ago

[ID: Two pages of a sketchy comic of Todd and Dirk from Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency. The first page: the top panel shows them kissing, with Todd pulling Dirk in for a kiss while holding his tie. He says “c’mere,” and a small exclamation mark is above Dirk, who has a surprised expression. The second, smaller panel shows their full bodies, where Dirk says “Todd, I’m very happy for us but—” and then promptly falls over. They fall on top of each other, and start laughing. In the second page, Dirk is standing and helps Todd up. Todd looks embarrassed, says “sorry ‘bout that,” and looks away from Dirk. Dirk says “no worries,” while kissing Todd on the cheek. Todd blushes red as Dirk walks away with a “cheerio!” and a smile. /End ID.]