In Story Form.
I'm in a series. The hero of this series came to me after the end of the third installment wherein he attempted to drown himself, and he said "I'm fed up with being the 'good guy'."
"What am I supposed to do about that?" I asked.
"Grant me the freedom to do all the stupid, dark, and trigger-worthy things that I want to do. I want to be the 'villain'."
I stared at him, blankly at first, but with a slow nod and finally a shrug, I said, "Whatever you do, make sure my readers get disgusted enough to put the book down."
His lips curled into a smug grin. He kept curling his fingers, clenching at the things whirling through his mind - I couldn't even begin to imagine what those
ideas were.
At the time I had sat down to direct the rest of the team, he'd taken his place to begin the current installment. By the end of the first chapter, he made one thing clear: nothing was sacred. Several chapters afterward, I'd introduced him to a young woman with who I had the intention of being a nuisance in his life. Instead of allowing me the creative freedom I wanted, he took to breaking her head-strong, wanton nature by seducing her in a torturously meticulous, patient, and slow manner that was so utterly sensual, I had to halt production for three days.
It was some chapters later, after accepting his demanding sexuality, that he met with a friend. Again, I had specific intentions regarding her, but he also stole the lead right out of my hands. He also got her pregnant. On the night of a world-wide orgy-like festival, he ripped her clothes off and threw her into a sexually inflamed sea of sweat-laden men and women. With a sickening grin on his face, he reveled in the way they vehemently ravaged her.
He looked at me with piercing, bright eyes. "Do you despise me? Do you hate what I'm doing, how I'm affecting
your work?"
Was I appalled at him, or his actions? Surely, I should be. But I wasn't. I shrugged.
"How could you still love me, after what I've done, and knowing what I'm going to do? I'm ruining your image."
"As a young writer I was told that a character wasn't 'real' like a person unless they could 'surprise' me." I watched his expression go from defiant glee to one of tame disarray. "Congratulations," I said, "You exist. I hope you're happy with that."
He remained there like the shed husk of a cicada, and I went over to a lesser, though still important character. While he stared with mute lips, I began coaching this other character for the role that he was about to take on, due to the newfound villain's actions.
Tl;dr:
Soon enough, we'll be moving on into the next installment. I'm terribly, terribly excited over it.