#he is also being cockblocked by his wife's entire family

[youleavethetardisbrakeson]

I've said it before and I'll say it again, season 3 Anthony Bridgerton is exactly what I'd expect of a newlywed Corlys Velaryon. Full golden retriever I LOVE MY WIFE ISN'T SHE GORGEOUS ISN'T MARRIAGE WONDERFUL LET'S STAY IN BED ALL DAY AND MAKE AN HEIR energy.

[chanluster]

non ducor duco | {m}

oneshot | historical! au | gang! au | 15.2k words 

“The most notorious gang leader in Victorian London can gouge out the eyes of men, steal from the corrupted rich, and terrify an entire city, but cannot figure out a few complicated feelings with you.”

s u m m a r y >> the leader of the sons of seoul, the wanted criminal mastermind, christopher bang, has the courage to commit any deed save for confronting you, his most trusted accomplice, about his feelings. however, when opportunity arises, in the shape of an invitation to a grand seasonal ball, to take down his fated enemy, he takes you to the heart of a lavish estate, both of you unaware of actions that occur inside, and after the mission.

w a r n i n g s >> gonna be using chris instead of chan cause it’s set in 1860s london, chan is a dom of course, jisung and changbin are dumb and dumber, are also massive cockblockers, some cliché scenes cause i’m a sucker for them, sexual! tension!, gore, foul language, making out, dirty talk, aggressiveness, semi-public fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!), oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, chan has a thing for being called his korean name, whack spelling for ‘cum’ as ‘come’ cause technically that word didn’t exist in 1860s, there is a plot so there will be build up

a / n > > so i went way over the 10k originally planned lmfaoooo but i hope y’all enjoy this oneshot! i worked my ass off on it and hopefully y’all can appreciate gang leader chan in 1860s london cause honestly i’m a 100% whore for that concept

back to masterlist

IT WAS A UNIVERSAL LAW THAT ONE MUST NEVER FUCK WITH CHRISTOPHER BANG. EVER.

Whatever charge you may have against him, it must be withdrawn. Whatever he had done to you — robbed you, murdered your son, destroyed your entire existence — it did not matter. There were always limits, and trying to challenge this specific criminal would only result in your undoing.

It seemed the target, cornered before you and the very man himself, did not fully understand this order.

Chris Bang, in all his midnight suited glory, took a step towards the cowering man, the ends of his longcoat trailing him in the air. His gloved hands locked behind his back, a grave curve of his lips as he addressed his next victim. “Mr. Shaw, we know you have the documents.”

This said Mr Shaw hastily shook his head, raising his hands in immediate surrender. “Please, Mr. Bang,” he whimpered. “I have no inkling of what you speak of!”

“Don’t you dare lie!” You interjected, sliding out your knife, pointing it towards him. “We received reports of you. Don’t you dare forget the monthly checks we’ve sent for its safekeeping!”

“I was taking care of it, Miss!” He backed further, until the wall of his office stopped his escape. “They came to the office though.”

“Who did?!” You demanded, but the way Chris’s hand fisted in irritancy answered your question.

The Mayor had taken their shares. Once again, the tyrant had robbed them off their fortune. 

“Mr. Shaw,” the man beside you started. The raw, dark matter in his voice had the owner’s eyes widening in pure fear. “Who was it specifically?”

“A really large man, about seven foot for sure…God, he had cuts all over his face, slight stubble,” he answered, knees slightly shaking. “Please, Mr. Bang, I have a family, children who have not grown—”

“Why is it that whenever man is at his weakest he mentions his loved ones?” A few stray locks escaped from Chris’ raked hair, caressing the ragged scar from his brow down to his cheek. “Why do you think that I’ll suddenly take pity because you have others who will mourn your existence?”

These questions had the man collapsing, leaning completely against the wall for support. You stole a glance at Chris, wondering if he was now capable of extracting the very souls from men. “Do not keep toying with me, Shaw,” he warned, leaning in slightly. “I know you have information.”

A soft, helpless whine escaped from the owner of the building. “Then-they'll kill me,” he mumbled, looking up at the criminal with desperation. It was a shame that never worked on a man with no sympathy.

“I can kill you too,” Chris countered, and in a flash a sleek, pocket knife appeared in his gloved hand, and hovered it right under Shaw’s chin. “So how about you tell me what you know, and I can prolong your imminent end, hmm? Does that seem fair enough?”

You almost felt sorry for the man. “H-his men…” tears formed in his eyes. “His men kept calling him Carter.”

“Brilliant,” you muttered. ‘Scar’ Carter, the Mayor’s link to the crime world, the dirty dealings of London. Carter, the lapdog of the socialites. The most irritating, disgusting son of a bitch you had ever encountered.

“I see.” The knife stayed, caressing the manager’s skin. “Now I know they’re to sell the documents. The bastard is greedy.

“Question is, Shaw, where is the transaction going to take place?”

Dear God, the man looked as if he was about to piss his trousers. “The ball.” He tried to gulp, but felt the curve of the blade. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a masquerade ball in a few days, and Carter already had a client. They’re going to do the dealing there, I swear on my children!”

A harsh scoff emitted from the criminal. “You better hope for the sake of your sons that you aren’t lying.” 

“Did you get the invitations?” You asked, eyes darting around the dirtied room, the messy desks and chairs lopsided from your searching. 

“Yes, yes!” He pointed to a set of drawers. “There are two in there!”

You walked towards the destination, opening the drawers and sure enough, finding the gold-edged enveloped, addressed to Shaw and his wife. “Are your names inside too?”

“No, just the envelope, but that is not important! I promise!”

You pocketed the invitations inside your coat pocket, joining your leader’s side again. Chris, after a minute of heart-wrenching silence, stood up, freeing Shaw’s neck from the knife, sliding it within his belt.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” His eyes were still upon the man when he said, “Let us return.”

The both of you were ready to leave when you heard Shaw’s sudden protests.

“The Sons of Seoul, everybody!” He declared, almost hysterically. “Coming in, fucking everything up, and leaving as if nothing had ever happened!”

Chris paused in his tracks, a quiet stillness passing over his whole figure. 

“What are you going to do now, Mr. Bang?” He hissed, slowly sliding up. “Are you going to infiltrate the biggest ball of the season? Create a bloodbath on the dance floor? It’s what you love to do so ardently, no?”

You heard the harsh spit smack on the office floor. “Stop meddling with the business of the British socialites. Go back to the gutter you crawled out of.” The next words overflowed with hatred. “Go back to where you really came from, you slit-eyed prick.”

Your eyes flashed in shock, swerving around to see the raging expression on Shaw’s beady little face. Fisting your hands, you were ready to knock him out when you felt the man beside you move.

Chris whirled around, eyes promising a horrifying future as he pounced upon the manager.

A yelp was heard as Chris’ fingers dug at the corner of Shaw's eyes, and relished the cries of terror as with a roar of his own, he squeezed with his thumb and forefinger, swelling the balls of vision from their sockets. With a loud pop! the two eyes tore from their origins, gooey residue trailing down his face as Christopher Bang palmed the two organs in his hands.

He observed his victim bellowing in pain as he fell to his knees, hands covering his bloodied sockets. A ghostly smirk accompanied his lips. "Better slit-eyes than none at all."

You had to suppress the severe shivers that threatened to break your stance. 

Shaw broke the universal law. His undoing was inevitable.

He flung the eyes upon the owner, and turned on his heel, eerily cool as he walked out of the office, blood and goo still on his black gloves. Not a hair ruffled upon his pretty head. 

You spared a look at the victim, crying out in infinite pain, hands on his sockets still. “Do not fuck with Christopher Bang,” was all you said, before following the devil out of the building.

The afternoon London heat hit you as you exited the offices, Chris waiting as he examined the filthy streets surrounding you. People of all classes strolled by, beggars on the street asking for two-pence, children selling newspapers down the corners, and carriages riding away on the wide roads. The man still did not clean his gloves from the mess, and you pointed this out as you arrived at his side.

“It does not bother me,” he waved you off, but you brought out your leather skin.

“Bring your hands out,” you ordered. 

Chris scowled. “I said I’m alright,___.” He began walking forwards, towards your humble abode, not far away from your starting point. “Besides, whoever strolls past us, they’ll second guess their evil intentions against us.” You glanced over the strange looking fellows, scattered across the roads. “Shows I am not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “Dirty pig.”

You felt daggers glaring into you. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” you said, turning a corner, already catching sight of the docks. “I expect this behaviour from Jisung. Perhaps even Changbin, but not from you.”

“Enough with this,” the man ordered, irritancy clear in his voice. Grumbling, you walked beside him in silence, the Thames entering your vision. You wished it would have radiated a rich, clear blue body of water, but from the stench which even reached your nose, it would be impossible. The river, a dump for the sewers, the rubbish disposed daily, was a toxic mass of water, and the cause of thousands dying from drinking its contents. When you first joined the Sons you nearly drank from the river, being saved only by Chris’ rough hand slapping the cup away. You remembered you received a harsh scolding from him that day, immediately providing you with clean water after to quench your thirst. 

A small smile curved onto your lips at the memory.

“Hand it over.”

You perked your head up to see his filthy, gloved hands out. “What is it?” You asked. 

“The water.”An irritated sigh escaped him. “I’ll clean the bloody gloves.” 

Your smile grew as you handed him the leather skin. “But only because I don’t ever want to be associated with Jisung and Changbin,” he added, and you only laughed, watching the man rub the mess off his attire as you both arrived at the docks.

The first sounds heard were not of the boats bellowing at port, nor the waves lapping in underneath the stilts. 

No, all you were welcomed with was a string of curses, spat by Seo Changbin.

“You fucking bastard, how dare you—”

“Here we go again,” you caught Chris muttering, who quickened his pace, thundering to where the two of his sidemen fought, caught in a scrap.

Han Jisung’s whines were carried through the river air, burning into your eardrums. “Bin, no, I said I’m sorry—!”

When you caught up to Chris, he opened his mouth, exasperation clear in his voice. “Boys!” He exclaimed.

Immediately the fighting ceased. The boys addressed, Changbin atop Jisung, ready to throw the final punch, turned back to see his leader scowling. Jisung let out a yelp, throwing the former from him and scrambling to his feet. Changbin followed suit, a little more slowly after rubbing his side in agony.

“Why the fuck,” Chris started, pointer finger darting between his two men, “Are you both fighting again?”

Changbin, fixing his ruined locks with his hand, shot his best friend a glare. “He took my fucking scones again.” He groaned, much too loud. “God, I specifically stored them in a place where no one would find them, but this greedy pig still managed to snuff them out!”

Jisung, a slender and more comical figure, crossed his arms, raising his chin in stubbornness. “I did not see a bloody name on them! Tell me Bin,” he matched his opponent’s stare. “Did you write down your name with blood-red ink across the scones? Because I certainly did not see the words Seo Changbin scrawled on the surface!”

“Argh!” The elder of the two turned his raging gaze towards the leader, who was watching his subordinates with slight distaste. “Chris, permission to cut off his tongue for being the bane of my existence?!”

Chris only stepped past them, heading for the big wooden table situated near the gang’s warehouse. The sounds of ships sailing in the dirty waters thrummed to the port, shouting heard all around over new, imported goods. “Another time, Changbin,” he only said, bringing out a chair and sitting down, propping an ankle over a knee. “I have encountered enough organ slicing for the day.”

Jisung’s face twisted in awed curiosity, settling himself down beside Chris. “Without me?” he let out a disappointed whine, turning to you. “I trusted you, at least!”

“I was surprised myself, Ji,” you argued, raising a hand towards the aloof man as you sat opposite your friend. “I didn’t know Chris gouged out Shaw’s eyes until they were in his hand!”

“You truly are a selfish man,” Changbin complained, plopping himself on the last seat. “Alway keeping the fun for yourself and ____.”

You did not really know why your face flushed a little at his charge, but you made sure to whack Changbin in the gut, earning a pained groan from the boy.

Chris locked his hands upon the table. “Well, gentlemen, then it is time for you to join in on the entertainment.”

The two boys exchanged confused glances. On cue, you brought out the pair of invitations within your coat pocket, tossing them to the table. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a ball,” you explained, rolling your eyes at the boys tearing open the envelopes, yanking out the oblong, cartridge paper, details inked with a precise hand. “Since it does not have names, anyone can enter the estate.”

Jisung let out an excited yell, grabbing onto Changbin’s arm. “Binnie, we can actually have some fun!”

“Not so fast, boys,” Chris said, tightening his gloves. “The invitations are not yours.”

Changbin’s face immediately fell. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

The elder held out a finger, silencing the complaints, but not the quiet grumbling of his members. “As I was saying,” he continued, hands interlocking once more, “____ and I will use the invitations to get inside, with the two of you as our bodyguards.”

“Marvellous!” Jisung exclaimed, sarcasm practically dripping on his words. “Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!”

“Jisung,” Chris warned, “How about you clean the shit off the docks instead?”

“Chan,” you murmured, causing him to glance at you. His sour expression almost softened at the word, the name which only few have ever said to him. You pondered at the time the two boys, sat to your right, tried teasing him with this name, and nearly earned an ass-beating. You, on the other hand, rather liked the way the name sounded on your tongue. 

Perhaps, you wished dearly, he liked the way it sounded on your tongue too.

The man, after a pause, averted his eyes from you, focusing them on his comrades. “You both can still enjoy the festivities, but you have to keep a low profile, because while ____ and I are socialising and distracting the guests, you both need to find Carter.”

“Is he at the party too?” Changbin propped his elbows on the table. “Lord above, I’ve been wanting to kick his arse for a while.”

“So you both just frivol away, then?” Jisung whined. “I want to drink and dance!”

“And you both will,” Chris persisted. “We all will keep a lookout for Carter and his dealings, and if any of us find him first, you report to me. At my signal, you and Changbin will break through their trade. I will be behind you as long as I slip away without anyone discovering our motives.”

You look to your leader. “There’s another problem.”

The three all turned to you. “If we are to go to the most lavish ball of the season, we certainly need to dress for it.” Suddenly, you sounded like a little girl when you pointed out, “I do not have a gown to wear for the evening.”

An eyebrow raised upon Chan’s face, while Changbin and Jisung snickered, puckering their lips. “Aww, poor little ____ has no lace to woo the rich men!”

You made to slap the pair’s arms and narrowly missed, glaring. “As if you animals have any decent attire to wear for the ball! When was the last time you wore a proper tailcoat?”

That was enough for their teasing to cease, but Changbin was adamant. “Don’t throw me in with Jisung! He doesn't even bother to shower!”

“Oi, you bastard!”

The pair were ready to fight once more when Chris cleared his throat.

“You’re right,____.”

A glance at the man who said it. “I have only seen you in stealth gear and rags, the first time I met you.” He leaned back in his creaking chair. “Perhaps it is time to flower you up a little.”

Jisung and Changbin were about to chuckle once again when you shot them a dirty look.

“I will order evening attire tomorrow,” Chris decided. “They will arrive on the day of the ball, which is adequate enough timing. 

“Now,” he declared, standing. “Are we all aware of what we have to do?”

The two boys turned sheepishly to you, who sighed and addressed the leader. “You and I attend the ball with these two fools as our bodyguards—”

“Hey!”

“____!”

“We maintain a believable facade and enjoy ourselves while also looking out for Carter and the documents. Once we find out where he is, Changbin and Jisung take him away, and we slip out of the party unnoticed.”

Chris, after a pause, nodded, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. “Good girl.”

And just like that, he left the table, your eyes a little wide and heart a little raced. 

When Chris retreated into the warehouse, the two boys turned their malicious gazes towards you, smirking much too wide for your liking.

“Do not,” you snapped, cheeks burning deeper, earning a smattering of laughter from the bastards.

“Whatever you say, good girl,” Changbin simpered, Jisung repeating the damned endearment until you hastily stood from your chair.

You rewarded them both with your middle finger before storming back into another warehouse, Chris’ words still engraved in your mind.

Just as Christopher Bang had predicted, the new attire arrived on the day of the ball. 

More planning had been explained, more additions to the grand scheme of the evening which was mere hours away. The gang was ready, but you can never be perfectly anticipated for any ideas gone amiss.

You even taught Jisung and Changbin to dance, ranging from the Polka to the Viennese Waltz, which was popular amongst high society in the growing years of Queen Victoria’s reign. They were terrible at the start, both of them always falling on each other, but with hard effort they learned quickly, almost perfecting the art of leading your partner on the ballroom floor.

You had not bothered asking the other if he wished to learn. There was something about him which made you think that he could do anything. Not once had he ever doubted your theory.

It was as if there was nothing in the world he could not know like the back of his gloved hand.

Thoughts like these were what filled you with such awe for him. Such deep-rooted pride that you worked under this man. Those thoughts did, however, curve into darker corners — when his midnight-lined eyes and raven figure haunted you in restless nights. 

You aggressively shook your head, swinging your legs over the dock. Sitting upon the wood, you watched the sun descend slowly, the stark yellows and whites of the sky beginning to darken. Ships docked and stayed, men with their filthy language and filthier intentions flocked outside, and strange women with too-tight corsets and lips too rosey, smirking at the newcomers, carrying out their own ways of living.

Sometimes, you’d watch this run-down life move on in this exact same spot, thanking the lucky stars for not being one of the boys with the weights on their backs, nor the girls with the untied top corsets. You thanked the same man, who brought you out of that hell, giving you the chance to fight all this wrong embedded in London. 

You also thanked him, especially that day, for calling you that endearment. 

God. The man was a criminal, yet you were the one being imprisoned. 

“____!”

You turned, heaving to your feet when you see Jisung running to you, packages in his hands. “Your gown’s inside!” He exclaimed, gummy smile lighting up his entire face. 

Throwing you the box, you caught it just before it flew into the Thames, shooting the boy a wary glare. “Careful,” you said, looking over the silk ribbon tied into a perfect bow upon the middle. Although there were greater happinesses in life, small ones such as new dresses had you in near giggles.

“I’ve got my very own tailcoat now,” Jisung yelled, ripping open the packaging, about to whip out his new clothing when you waved him to stop.

“Do it inside, Ji, or you’ll ruin your outfit!”

“Trust him to fuck up a perfectly new suit before trying it on,” Changbin’s voice drawled through the dock, who held a box of his own. “Also, the boss is saying to quit dallying and start dressing!”

You obliged, holding onto your box tenderly as you entered a little building beside the main warehouse, consisting of everyone’s rooms and privies. Your eyes glanced to Chris’ bedroom door before pushing open the door to yours, stepping inside to the small, yet decorated space, filled with a board of knives and bows displayed upon one wall and an erratic strokes of paint brushed along the textured surfaces, courtesy of Jisung and Changbin’s lack of motivation to finish your room. An undone bed was tucked into the corner, and a large mirror stood on its curled railing in the other corner, revealing yourself, hands underneath the package.

The sun fell further, sky being painted with dark oranges and purple and pinks, staining your bedroom the colours of soft autumn as you put your package on the bed, untying the ribbon and unboxing the whole treat. 

The first glance of the dress had you smiling in pure incitement.

You brought the dress out of its box, letting it trail free right down to your toes, holding it to arm’s length to examine the details : it was a mysterious, dark red, a colour which instantly attracted attention within the golds of the ballroom. The neck line was low, dipping just enough to tempt until it swelled over for the openings for the arms, black ruffles on the fabric to accentuate off shoulders. The intricate, midnight detail was stitched to perfection, creating a network of swirls upon the bodice before flaring out into the wider skirts. Dear God, you had never seen such an exquisite dress on any noble lady in this damned city.

Your smile grew a little wider. Christopher Bang, once again, has not disappointed. 

You turned it on it’s back, mouth parting in surprise at the silk lacing, undone and trailing down the dress, waiting to be tied and admired. Realising that we’re you to wear this, the entire ball would see your back half-exposed. Even the man you’re to be escorted with.

The thought alone made your insides sing. 

Chris had ordered this dress. He knew what he was acquiring for you, what he asked you to dare. 

Well, you were happy to oblige. Something within you wished to see his eyes blaze at you in the gown.

Closing the curtains of your room, you quickly lit up a metallic lamp, orange light leaking onto your dresser and walls.  Setting the source upon a stool, you began shedding your coat, tossing it on the bed before going to the dresser.

You spent about ten minutes on your hair, lifting locks upward and curling them into a messy bun. You brought out clips of pearls, attaching them at the back of your hair, letting the few stray curls bounce along your ears and neck.

After finishing your hair you began shedding your clothing, excitement rushing in your gut at the thought of wearing the ballgown. When you were adorned in nothing but your underthings, you grabbed onto the arms of the new dress, entering one leg into the opening before sliding the other. You raised the gown, fitting the bodice upon yourself and the short sleeves cuffing just under your shoulders. 

Looking over your shoulder at the back, it was bare before the mirror, saving your rear only with a small dip which was edged with more black lace. The laces for tightening the back still hung uselessly, begging to be entangled with their partners.

And you tried to oblige. You truly did, straining your hands behind your back and trying your hardest to tie the laces with the opposites, of creating a pattern adequate enough for the ball and announce your preparation. Unfortunately for you, your fingers refused to assist you that moment in the evening. 

Letting out an irritated sigh, you called for your friends.

“Jisung!” you shouted, hands endeavouring still. “Changbin!”

Your back still to the door, you waited for the two fools to arrive, but no one came. Again, you called their names, but to no avail, only silence answering you.

“I swear to the Lord,” you muttered, arms now starting to hurt from the stretching. You were about to bring the warehouse down with your roar when you heard the door quietly creak open, the sound of boots emitting against the floor. 

“Ah, finally,” you began as you turned around, hands clutching the bodice of the dress, ready to be irritated by your comrades when all words abandoned your tongue.

There, standing by the door, in all his midnight-tainted glory, was Chris Bang.

You hated how your eyes widened at the sight of him. 

The man always took care of his appearance, but that evening he had truly outdone himself - His infamous woollen longcoat was hung over his arm, exposing his black tailcoat, shining slightly in the flickering lamp light. His waistcoat underneath fit snug, and his white cravat tie peaked just above the lapels, caressing his Adam’s apple. His raven locks were slicked back, a few stray flyaways drooping over his forehead. The gloves were worn still, skin never exposed.

You caught his eyes flicker, something within stirring at seeing you, holding onto your dress in case it fell to the floor. The prolonging silence was shattered when you forced yourself to speak.

“Chris,” you said, because his name was the first thing, the only thing you could comprehend.

He, too, inhaled, slowly. “Jisung and Changbin...they’re outside, so they could not hear.”

“Oh.” 

Another round of silence. God, you wished you could just say something to him, anything which wasn’t a single syllable—

“____.”

You snapped into focus. “Yes?”

“Why did you call them?”

Blinking, you stumbled, “I, I just needed help with…” your hand gestured to your back. “...with the laces.”

There was an indecipherable undertone in his next words. “You could have called me.”

“You’re here now.”

Again. The world-heavy pause upon the both of you. 

A few more seconds ticked by when Chris set his coat upon the dresser chair. His eyes never left yours.

“Turn around.”

You dragged your gaze away from his as you complied, baring your back before him, laces dangling. His footsteps sounded from behind you, and his presence was felt, large and magnetic.

Leather sliding from skin, you sensed his eyes on you, taking in your illuminated skin. You had the greatest urge to shiver, but suppressed it, waiting for his next move.

A small breath hitched in your throat when Chris grabbed onto the first pair of laces and tugged them back, pulling you to him. 

Almost too conveniently, your rear backed against his crotch, and a minute noise escaped you before putting some distance between you two again. You instantly regretted the action, already missing the mere caress of what lay underneath his trousers.

“Stop fidgeting,____,” he ordered, and you immediately stilled, the tug still adamant at your back. Almost disgraceful how quickly you listened to him.

Slowly, he tied the first bow, right to the small of your back. When he started on the second, though, the first touch of his fingers against your back threw you off guard.

You should have expected this. You should have known from the start of his task that his fingers would graze your skin but each caress was like a lick of fire, threatening to singe the skin. Your breath caught in your throat, each time Chris touched you.

Those damned fingers skirted upwards, tying up the laces with such delicacy it nearly softened your stance, if only you didn’t notice his growing warmth. You realised with no small amount of pleasure that he, too, was possibly flustered.

Christopher Bang. Flustered over a girl.

You almost gasped when his hands brought a few stray curls over your shoulder, the dip of your neck exposed as he began the final bow of your gown. The process was excruciatingly slow, each little caress enough for you to turn around and—

And what?

How you desperately wanted to find out. 

Sensing the ribbon curling upon your neck, you understood. 

“It is done,” he whispered, and you shifted at the sigh which kissed your skin. God, he was so close, you were scared that if you turned around his lips—

You did not need to worry when you felt strong hands grip your shoulders, whirling you around in a sudden fashion. Your eyes widened at the close proximity of his face, his beautiful fucking face, and the warm, slender hands on your naked shoulders.

“Chan,” you let yourself say, and you swore the criminal’s eyes darkened. His grip on you tightened.

Perhaps he would have closed the distance, saved you from desperation when someone knocked on the goddamn door.

“___?!”

“Hurry up, the carriage is waiting!”

“Women, honestly—!”

You yelped at the sound of your friends bellowing behind the door. Even Chris looked a little surprised, a slight tick in his jaw as the noise grew louder.

Grabbing onto your skirts, you thundered towards the door, furrowing your brows as you twisted the knob, opening to see the same two idiots, shooting you irritated glares. 

“Is Miss Fancy-Shmancy finally ready?” Changbin drawled, propping a hand upon his hip, tails of his coat dangling behind him.

“Madame certainly took her time,” Jisung went on, sauntering into your bedroom without a care. “Might as well not attend the ball at all—”

His incessant rambling was instantly ceased when he saw Chris standing before you, putting on his gloves. His face was impassive as ever, save for the jaw still tightened.

“Oh, Chris,” he said, and started backing away to the door. “The carriage is outside.”

“Let us go, then,” he only replied as he grabbed his longcoat, strolling out of your bedroom, leaving your skin tingling and heart confused.

Changbin watched Chris exit the building, turning to you with a raised brow. “What was the Mr. Thorns-up-his-arse doing in your room?”

You scoffed at the nickname, picking up the invitations from the dresser. “He was just helping me.”

Jisung’s lips curved into a smirk. “Helping you…?”

“Stop it!” You demanded, but both of the boys could see the blush on your cheeks, even from the dim lamp light. 

“Come on, now,____,” Changbin said, holding out an arm, and hitting Jisung’s arm to do the same. “Let us follow Chris before he shouts at us for keeping you here.”

“Don’t say such things,” you cooed, looping your arms with the two boys. “He will kill you outright instead.”

Laughter emitted from the two, leading you out of the room, down the halls and soon the building.

The carriage was waiting at the entrance of the dock, horses neighing softly at your arrival. Jisung opened the carriage door, letting you climb inside. Chris, inside already, held out a hand, you taking it as he had you sit beside him. His hard figure brushed against your shoulders, reminding you of his fingers on your back not too long ago.

Just like that, you slumped against the seating. That man was truly going to be the death of you.

When the two boys scrambled inside, Chris’ hand thudded against the roof, indicating it to start riding. The carriage obliged to his command. 

The small, interwoven streets widened as the carriage rode upon the main roads, going faster with each signal of Chris’ hand. The inside was alive with Jisung gloating shamelessly over his checkered waistcoat, with Changbin giving reassurances for his “ugly face ruining the clothing.” You laughed at every jab the two threw at each other, but would tense at the erratic touches Chris’ knee would send with every shake of the vehicle. Although the many layers of skirts cushioned these brushes, the blood rushing to your cheeks was evidence enough - everything he did made you so unhinged.

Soon, the big roads led from filthy, back-to-back housing to larger homes, the further the dirty central city strayed from you. A few touches of countryside teased your view when you saw mansions, estates the size of neighbourhoods gracing the surroundings. The carriage began to slow down, as more people adorned in fine attire entered your window view, no doubt going to the same destination as the gang.

The most illuminated estate welcomed you as the carriage stopped right before its vast, colourful gardens, smattering of couples taking intimate walks along the hedges. Chris, noticing the destination, opened the door, Changbin following suit. As the former got out he held out his hand to you. Surprised by his sudden manners, you took his hand, stepping down from the carriage, careful of your skirts as they brushed against the pavement. Jisung and Changbin were right beside you, uttering the driver to come back within a couple of hours.

“Now,” Chris began, bringing your hand to his arm. “You both stay behind me and ____. You wouldn’t need invitations if you both act like our bodyguards.”

“Right behind you, boss,” Jisung chanted, counting his knives inside his coat pockets. Changbin took one of the weapons from him, sliding it up his trouser sleeve, securing it with a leather ankle strap. 

“Right.” the gang all looked at each other, silent understanding passing between all of you.

“Let’s ruffle some rich feathers.”

With your hand still on his arm, the leader of the Sons of Seoul led his gang inside of the massive estate. 

Guards at the entrance shot you grave looks as they stopped you. “Invitations,” they said. You obliged, bringing out the golden paper. They looked over, convinced, and gave them back to you.

You and Chris were about to enter when Jisung and Changbin were stopped behind you. “Protection,” Chris said, but the guards were unconvinced. 

“They need invitations too,” was their answer.

Dread, slight yet present, began to fill your stomach. Has the mission failed before it could even begin?

“I suggest you let them in, too,” Chris only said, black eyes piercing the two men with a glare. “Or my friend hosting this party will hear of this inconvenience.”

That seemed to stir the guards, for they said nothing more, letting your friends enter the estate. Jisung and Changbin made sure to smirk at the men before sauntering inside behind you.

Your eyes, upon stepping inside the main hall, were welcomed with paradise. 

Gold. gold upon gold was painted, lined, moulded everywhere, upon the walls, on the floor, on the painted ceiling, hypnotising you with its kaleidoscopic pattern. Swirls of white and silver journeyed along the walls, and the floor bore solid treasures, sculpted into the ground and shining exquisitely from the chandelier lighting. Hundreds of lords and ladies, businessmen and escorts populated the manor, either being moved by the orchestral band, dancing, helping themselves to food from the lines of dishes or simply mingling among others.

It was the chaos of the rich. A place you didn’t quite fit in.

You stole a glance at the man beside you. Even though he looked contained as ever, you felt his arm tightening all over. Perhaps he knew he did not belong in this world either.

The grim understanding was cut off when Changbin’s shrill gulp sounded from behind you.

“Scones!”

The man immediately dashed towards the food section, earning blatant laughter from his friends as Jisung stepped beside Chris. “Once he’s done stuffing himself, we’ll get into positions.” He skirted his eyes over the buzzing crowd. “I have already spotted some of Carter’s men in different corners of the hall, so we can see where they’re going to go.”

“Any signs of Carter?” you asked, already feeling suggestive eyes on your body, the dark red curves of your figure. 

“He’ll show himself soon,” Chris promised, beginning to take a step forward. “The bastard thrives in attention.” He turned to Jisung. “Make yourself scarce.”

He then saw Changbin making himself much too comfortable with the jam scones rapidly declining in his wake. “And for God’s sake, control Changbin.”

Jisung shook his head, mocking a salute before strolling to his friend. You and him were left to your own activities, and soon you felt the tug of his body, leading you further into the hall.

You looked up to see him scouring the room. His brows furrowed slightly, that stiffness felt underneath your fingertips. “Chris,” you called to him, and were answered with an uncertain stare.

“I’m alright,” he said, walking along the lines of the dance floor, looking away when he gave you the false assurance. 

You did not know what was going on. In other missions his composure would never falter — this was what he was so notorious for, being calm despite the anarchy around him. Never before had you seen him so tense.

“Stop it.”

You blinked back into reality. “What?”

“You’re doing it again,” he hissed, raking his hand through his hair. “Looking at me that way. Like I’m about to snap.”

A pout formed on your lips, looking up at him underneath your lashes. “I can sense you’re distressed.” You squeezed his arm in comfort. “I cannot help if I worry for you, Chris.” 

With small surprise, you found him soften, only slightly. “I just…” he sighed in exasperation. “I hate parties.”

You understood the connotations. Wealthy parties. The men and women who throw them. 

“And I, too,” you agreed, earning a soft snort from the man. Your heart warmed a little at the sound, and thankfully the tension faded between the two of you, not necessarily from each other but from the socialites around you.

Your heart, however, received no such rest, beating much too loud for your liking. 

The two of you took another turn of the room before a low, arrogant drawl paused you both in your tracks.

“Mr Christopher Bang.”

You and your leader both sighed simultaneously. 

Turning, you tilted your head upwards to none other than ‘Scar’ Carter, smirking ridiculously down at the the two of you. He was something out of a children’s book, the grotesque villains with wanned skin and beady looks, ready to pounce and make you disappear without you ever realising. Although young, he looked to be in his mid-forties, unkept locks and curled moustache, being played by his fingers. 

He held out his other hand, extending the smile to the man beside you. “Always a goddamned blessing to see you.”

Chris assessed his hand for a moment before he let go of your grip on his arm, slipping off his gloves. His own olive coloured hands were roughened, no doubt from years of manual labour. He took Carter’s hand, shaking the greeting in place, and the latter turned his enemy’s hold, looking over at the new image inked upon the hand.

“What is this, Chrissy?” He mused, the nickname causing the said-man’s lips to twitch. “Some flowery poetry?”

Your eyes strayed to what he meant; just under his thumb, where the joint began, was a tattoo, inked deeply in a cursive hand. It was a phrase you had never knew the meaning of, nor had you asked, but the Latin was beautiful on his textured skin.

NON DUCOR DUCO.

“Not poetry, Carter,” he only said, tracing his sole tattoo with a finger. “But something I live by.”

Despite Carter towering over the man, Chris Bang pinned him with a piercing glare. His signature phantom smile appeared on his lips. 

“I am not led. I lead.”

The giant’s shit-eating grin faltered. You could not help but let a small chuckle escape at his reaction. 

And maybe you shouldn’t have shown amusement, because when he focused his animalistic gaze upon you, you had the sudden urge to hold onto the man beside you again.

“Ah, Miss ____,” he jeered, mocking a deep bow which you did not return. “Chris’ little...protégée.”

He then held out his hand to you, and you knew it was not to shake the gnarled fingers. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with you?”

You scoffed, anger bubbling within your veins. How dare he even ask you, after all the trouble he had caused for the gang? Smirking as if it was all a little game.

Your mouth parted, ready to reject him outright when a warm hand settled on your back. 

Chris’ fingers stroked the exposed skin, skirting over the lacing, and despite the heavenly feeling, you knew what this signal really meant. 

Distraction. This would be the perfect opportunity to divert Carter’s attention while Chris joined in the other’s search. Listening to the instrumental, you realised that would spare them another five minutes.

Reigning in your fury, you offered the bastard a thin-lipped smile before taking his hand, already missing the mere touch of another seconds before.

Carter led you to the dance floor among the other dancers, you hardly radiating the same enthusiasm as the others accompanying you. The man’s other hand, one still holding yours, snaked around your waist, and you hated how it felt against your back, pure distaste staining your features as he tried to impersonate the idle lace curling that Chris did.

As if it physically hurt, you propped a hand upon his shoulder, and when the music began, the game started.

The giant kept ogling at you as the sly grin appeared on his lips. “I must say, I am very envious of Chris.”

You matched his stare. “Of course you would,” you only said, trying your best to sound like your leader, who was an embodiment of calmness. “You can never be the man Chris is.”

“Oh, I did not mean by what he is, my lady,” he corrected. “I meant by what he has.”

He pulled you to him, much to close, and you hissed as the fingers behind you played on your back. “He is much too lucky to possess a creature like you, Miss ____.”

Good God. If he endeavoured to make you as uncomfortable as possible, then he was doing a splendid job. You regretted ever listening to Chris, but for the plan, you will do what is necessary.

As if on cue, you felt dark, piercing eyes on you. By the little hairs which stood at the back of your neck, there was no doubt who watched over you, murmuring progress with Jisung as he sipped wine on a tightly held flute. 

“Tell me, sweet,” he began once more, making you lose your thoughts, turning about the room as the music went on. “Why do you work for a man like him?”

You sighed at the question. Truly this man did not know how to initiate small talk. “Why is that any of your concern?”

“Because I’ve seen you in action,” he answered, and you could not mistake the awe that threatened to expose in his voice. “You have incredible potential, my lady, and it pains me that Chris does not use you properly. You waste your efforts in a silly gang.”

His condescending speech made you dig his nails in his hand. “Careful, Carter,” you seethed, watching his face crumple in pain from your action. “The silly gang you speak of will not hesitate to obliterate your entire organisation. And neither will I.”

Rage flashed in his eyes as he grinned at your claim. “I doubt the esteemed Christopher Bang would even let you participate,” he drawled, grazing his fingers against your back. “You being his whore is enough for him.”

You parted your mouth in slight shock. The reaction quickly evaporated with pure, unadulterated fury. A lot of people speculate your true relationship with Chris, but your own demeaning always struck deep. How dare people think that you only have the power you have because you slept with the greatest criminal in the city? 

With your head raging, you sent your low heel down upon Carter’s boot, a yelp escaping the man as his dancing faltered, grip on you loosening. Fortunately for you, the orchestra smoothed their music to a close, and small applause rang around the room, you joining as you smiled at Carter’s slight groaning.

When the giant looked at you again, all his arrogance was gone, instead a face of wrath. “You bitch-”

You were sure he was going to strike, despite hundreds in the ballroom. Even your smug demeanour dampened when you saw his bear-like hand raise when its journey was paused.

Ceased completely as Chris’ hand wrapped around Carter’s wrists.

Your leader’s smile was sharp, like a decorated dagger. “Are you already creating a scene, just when you finished the first dance?”

Carter, dumbfounded by his enemy’s sudden presence, waved off the foreign grip on his hand. “You are never going to find the documents,” he crowed, glaring at the two of you.

Chris, the magnificent bastard, only kept his magnetic smirk as he took your hand, enveloping his fingers with yours. “We shall see about that,” he promised, and dipped his head in adieu, turning on his heel and taking you with him. 

You felt your heart flutter when his grip on you stayed, even when Carter stomped off into the crowd. “Bastard,” you hissed. A hum of agreement followed. 

Soon, music began to play a sensual tune, and you looked to the couples joining in the main circle of the floor. You made to leave that area when you felt the man refused to be led. 

You looked back, noticing an uncertain emotion swirling in his eyes. “The dance is about to begin.”

“So?” he merely said, hands still clasping yours. The people around you began to take positions. 

“Chris,” you got out. “You do not dance.”

A small smile enveloped his mouth at the claim. He answered in wrapping a hand around you, making you suck in a breath. You caught sight of the tattoo inked on his skin as he raised his hold on. NON DUCOR DUCO.

I am not led. I lead.

“You’re right,” he admitted. As the first tune of the violin settled in the ballroom, the man took a step. “But I let it slide on special occasions.”

You did not reply, only staring at him as you happily let him turn you about the dance floor.

Your assumptions were correct - Chris Bang was a wonderful dancer. The man already possessed a natural smoothness in his usual movement, but the way he led you across the room gave fluidity another meaning entirely. His hand on your back was an anchor to reality, keeping you from dreaming away in the skies above, and his fingers, interlocked with yours, were a silent promise that he was never letting you go. 

You were so caught up in your fantasies that you did not hear what Chris said until he called your name. 

“____.”

You perked up, raising your brows. “Yes?

“Did Carter say anything to you?” His fingers on your exposed skin began to caress you, and it took a lot within you to stay calm. “You were seething while you both danced.”

Oh, so he was watching you. The information didn’t help your nerves. “He was being his usual, charming self,” you drawled, careful of your feet. 

He paused a bit at your unhelpful answer. “I see,” he got out, index curling with the ribbon of your back. You let out a shuddered breath, not going unnoticed by the man. 

You changed the subject, focusing on the mission. “Are Jisung and Changbin still searching for the documents?”

Chris, on the note, twirled you delicately, and brought you back into his arms. “They have discovered the hideout, and have taken down half the men,” he informed, and you sighed in relief. “They’ll find what we’re looking for soon.”

“I hope so, too,” you murmured, listening to the music ascend in its pitch. 

So much finery radiated in this room. As your eyes drifted to the surroundings once more, you became slightly envious of the family fortunate enough to reside in this estate, and drink in the liquid gold splattered everywhere in the vast hall. Complaints were heard from a rather nasty woman, who screamed at a young servant for spilling wine on her oh so expensive dress, and the jewellery which glittered upon necks and ears. 

This. you hated this. Despised the wealth which accumulated in this ball, this entire neighbourhood. Not months ago you were about to die from the lack of food in your stomach. No doubt these people simply relished another one of these many balls, occurring every season.

It was the only reason the Sons of Seoul existed in the first place. To battle the ranks of the rich, and establish a sense of justice which had long faded from London.

Perhaps Chris sensed your growing disgust at the environment, for he sighed. “I hate these people.”

You nearly smiled at how similar you both think.

His touches still had you nearing closer to him as he continued, “I hate how everyone here can simply enjoy themselves without a care in the world. I hate the Mayor for letting this chaos happen as he sits back on his arse, corruption spiking under his office.”

His anger grew. “I hate that pig-headed prick Carter and all the trouble he’s brought me. I hate that he stole those documents and constantly fucks with me as if we two had not crawled out of the same hellhole.

“And God,” he snapped, pure venom now lacing his tongue, “I hate how he was touching you as if you were no one but his.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

He groaned out in frustration, fingers tightening on your hand. “I hate how Jisung and Changbin walked in on us this evening. Despise that the moment I was about to close the distance they burst through the door, leaving me helpless. And I hate feeling helpless.”

You did not know what to say, what words to comfort him with. Not when you were thinking the exact same thing, and felt the exact same agitation, particularly at your core.

The man leaned in, eyes heavy lidded. “You know what I hate the most, ____?”

Gulping, you let out a little, “What?” afraid of what he was going to reveal.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip, fingers continuing their teasing.

“I-” he seethed, gripping your back tightly. “Fuck, I hate how ravishing you look in that dress.”

You parted your mouth in shock, blushing the colour of roses. “Why do you hate that?” you only asked, breath almost lost in your lungs as your blood began to thrum beneath your skin.

His eyes lost all dreamy light when a small curve enveloped his lips. “Because, my dear ____,” he muttered hoarsely, each breath ragged, “It makes me think of all the things I want to do to you.”

The strong hand on his back was felt much more, fingers playing with the laces of your dress. You nearly cried out in front of a hundred people over their idle play, and his bold, bold statement.

Chris relished in your whimpering reaction. “Aren’t you going to ask me?” he whispered, leaning in till his mouth hovered near your ear. “Do you not want to know what I wish to do to you?”

“What,” you rasped out, grip tightening over his neck. “What are you going to do?”

His husky chuckling nearly sent you over the edge. “I’ll find a nice little space, away from Carter and all these people,” he began, breath caressing your skin. “Then I’ll kiss you slowly, like so.” he pressed a chaste kiss underneath your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “These hands of mine will roam all over, but they will gladly trail up your legs, ____.

“And God, when my hands stop at your sopping cunt, I’ll make it cry with my fingers.” He drummed his fingers on your back. “One.” Tap. “Two.” Tap. “Three of them.” Tap. “Perhaps you’d like more.”

You whined into his shoulder, feet stumbling as you clung onto him tighter. “M-more,” you pleaded quietly, so careful to keep dancing, move along to the music. 

“Of course you would,” he only cooed in your ear, and you were scared you would collapse over his words. “Luckily for you, I wouldn’t be finished with you either.”

Your hand, clasped in his his, squeezed at his words. “Chris, please—”

“Yes, just like that,” the man mused, whirling you on the dance floor. “Just like that, you’ll beg me to send you over the edge, but I won’t let you be satisfied so easily.” 

On God and all his subjects, if he did not cease his filth you were going to come onto the floor by his mere words. You could tell Chris noticed, almost reading your mind as the ghost of a smirk widened. “Already afraid, love?”

Love. 

Dear, fucking God.

“You see, ____,” he muttered, leading you to the final round of the song, the steps of the dance going faster. “I won’t let you be satiated with just my fingers.”

And as he broke his hold on you, twirling you with his tattooed hand, he pulled you to him, one last time, crushing you against his granite chest. 

His eyes bore into yours when the last string of the violin wailed around the hall. All you could see was pure, unadulterated desire.

“I will have you writhing with my cock.”

Your eyes never left Chris’ as the music finally came to a close, gaze blurring at the dark promise. Applause scattered around the ballroom, yet your hands stayed upon his arm, the other enveloped in his.

You caught the words once more under his thumb. NON DUCOR DUCO.

Indeed you do.

“Chris,” you breathed out, waiting for him to let you go. He did no such thing.

Feeling a few suspicious eyes on you, your feet backed away from the man, hands escaping the feeling he emitted underneath your touch. 

A whine threatened to escape you when you saw his desire had not dampened. His hands shook, only slightly, and your stomach erupted into a million butterflies, journeying lower and lower. 

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly you feared you would faint on the dance floor. 

Excusing yourself, you hastened your footsteps, sending a few smiles to passerbys as you picked up a flute of champagne, hurrying down long hallways, catching a few couples leaning towards each other. When you found a grand wooden cabinet beside another door, no doubt a guest room, you slumped next to it, breathing loud and ragged, too affected by a certain man’s eyes and the hidden intentions underneath. You drank the entire champagne in one gulp, propping the flute on a servant’s tray as he rushed by.

“____!”

Gasping, you turned to the source of the voice. The voice which filled you with such unexplainable hunger you had to clench your thighs as it drew nearer.

Footsteps thudded against the carpet, and you squirmed at the sight of Chris Bang, storming towards you with a ferocity which had your knees near buckling.

“Where,” he began, voice an octave lower as he stood not a foot from you, smacking his hands against the wall, caging you with his presence. “Were you trying to lead me?”

“Somewhere where they cannot see us,” you responded, excitement clear in your voice. The ballroom chatter was still within your range, so technically, anyone could wonder down these halls, look over the cabinet and catch you both. 

The throbbing inside you didn’t particularly care. 

“And what do you want me to do,____,” he murmured, and his voice was glazed with pure lust,  “Which the world cannot see?”

“I…” slight shame tried to course through your body but the overflowing desire was too strong. Not when your tongue was not afraid to voice what was in your heart the moment you first saw him. “I want you to do all those things you said. I want you to ruin me.”

And perhaps that was all he needed, when Christopher Bang pressed his lips against yours and answered your prayers.

He was instantly rewarded with your surprised whine, drowned out by the movement of his mouth as his hands left the wall, holding onto your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks as he led the fiery kiss, opening your mouth to let the little noises escape.

“Chris,” you tried to rasp out, but his lips refused once more as he tilted your head, gaining full access and truly discovering the sheer pleasure oozing from the swell of your lips. God, he had gone through every experience which gave him a sense of thrill, but the kiss he shared with you brought him a new, foreign high — as if he tried the drugs he had seen on the streets for the first time, and becoming addicted on the first dose. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air as the two of you shared a carnal gaze, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm. Chris was ruthless, only sparing you for a few seconds before pouncing back in on your mouth, this time tongue playing along, asking to be let inside and slide along the inner workings. You would have been a fool to refuse him.

The moment you opened your lips for him his tongue slithered inside, sliding it along the roof of your mouth, while his hands left your face and instead gripped onto your waist, driving you further against the wall, snuffing out any distance which dared come between you and him.

A slightly moan bubbled within your throat when he began to roughen your lips, capturing your tongue before closing the seam of your mouth within his own, repeating the action until you didn’t know whether you were sane or absolutely fucking crazy.

You were sure straight after when one of his hands began sliding down. Down. He hurriedly broke the kiss, letting out an angry groan at the never ending skirts which met with his fingers. “Fuck this dress,” he cursed as he descended a little, peppering kisses upon the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, trailing until he found the hem of your skirts.

Bunching them up with his one hand, he lifted the fabric, baring your legs to the dimmed chandelier light from the main hall. His hand trailed right up to your core, a single layer hiding it from Chris’ fingers. The poor, soaked fabric could not ever compete, when the criminal, with a single finger as he scattered kisses upon your face, hooked under the lacey underwear, sliding it down your thighs. So much desperation lurked he did not even bother to slide it down to your ankles,  a chuckle rasping out of him as his fingers skimmed your upper thighs to find them dripping with the suppressed arousal.

“My poor, poor, darling,” he whispered in a menacing tone, the other hand caressing your face, “Couldn’t contain yourself for me?”

“Ch-chan,” you heard yourself say, because at this point your soul was not present, probably lurking in seventh heaven where this man was taking you. 

Hearing his name on your slurred mouth only had him plunging the first finger inside you. 

You let out an obscenely loud moan, which was immediately followed by hushing. “Don’t make a sound,” he demanded, smiling slyly at your whimpering, “Or else I stop. Understand?”

You could not nod fast enough, and he huffed out a laugh before sliding the second finger in, rubbing against your slit, drawing circles upon your throbbing skin, testing the rather sticky waters of you and your fucked out state. 

Satisfied, he delved the two fingers in deeper, pulsating against your walls until they hit a certain spot which had you crying out in pleasure. Chris’ heavy lidded warning flashed in his eyes.

You nearly cried when he began to slide his fingers out over your moaning, your hand immediately stopping him from pulling out further. “Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, pleaded like the whores you heard on the docks, but you didn’t care, did not give a single fuck when those fingers needed to be inside you again. “Chan, please, I’m sorry—”

“One more fuck up, ____, and these—” his fingers plunged back into you once more, hitching you upwards with the sheer force, “—will be back out.”

Nodding hastily, you left your hand on his wrist. Chris continued to work so deliciously inside you that it took every ounce of strength left in you not to bring the manor down with your moaning. The whimpering could not be contained, but the criminal let that slide, finding great contentment every time you begged for more.

He curled his slender fingers, acquainting himself with that same bloody spot which had you seeing stars. Your hands gripped onto his neck for stability, nails digging into his shirt. How you wanted it off, along with all the damned layers he adorned.

The way he played with your sweet spot had you feeling heavy, a pleasured ball of pain forming at your lower back. You knew you were being led to an edge, an edge you could not, did not want to escape, and when you pulled away from Chris, looking into his eyes, he instantly understood.

“Oh my, love,” he simpered, his free hand thumbing your cheek. “Does someone want to get fucked against the wall? When I’m not even finished with them yet?”

Tears lined your eyes, cunt throbbing almost painfully around his fingers. “Chan, I’m going to—ah!” you cut off, closing your eyes as you barely held on to your last grips of sanity. “Chan.”

Your weakened, fucked out demeanour had the most dangerous man in London fearing for his own senses. He wished nothing more than you screaming his name for the whole city to hear, and with you, looking at him like that…

Oh, he was definitely going to drive you over the edge.

Christopher Bang nearly carried out his promise when a shrill call interrupted you two. 

“CHRIS! ____!”

“WHERE ARE YOU—?”

Your lust-glazed stare cracked as you blinked. “Chan,” you said his name, but the man let out an enraged roar. You felt the hollow emptiness when those golden fingers were pulled out of you, sticky residue coating his skin. The footsteps grew closer, the volume of the shouting increasing. 

Chris brought out a white handkerchief, cleaning your mess on his fingers rather aggressively. “I’m going to fucking kill them,” he guttered out, making your legs tremble. To your utmost misery you felt the orgasm, so close before, fading from existence, and you made a silent vow to break Jisung and Changbin’s legs the moment all of this was over.

Speaking of the Devil, the two hastened, opening all doors and closing them till the two stumbled upon the both of you, infuriated and worryingly turned on.

Changbin looked at the deflated expression on both of yours faces. “Chris? ____?” His eyes narrowed, trying to work out the reasons for the slight electric atmosphere he suddenly entered in. “Are you both...alright?”

“Perfectly,” the man answered in a ragged hiss, sliding on his gloves again, smoothing over his raven locks. “Now why the fuck are you both here?”

The two boys did not understand their leader’s anger. Choosing to let the snipe slide, Jisung said, “We’ve caught Carter.”

That seemed to send you and Chris back in reality. Well, not really, when your core still throbbed, the pleasure fading with each passing second.

“Where is he?” Chris flattened out his coat. “Where are the documents?”

Changbin brought out a small file from inside his waistcoat, holding it out for the former. “Right here.”

Chris took the file, skimming through the contents. His previously angered expression relaxed, just a fraction, and he held onto it as he set his powerful gaze on you all. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

The four of you managed to slip away easily, you trying your hardest to fix yourself after the whole fiasco in the hallway. Your heart was still running a mile per minute, refusing to calm as your mind relived the events. The original carriage which you all arrived in was now accompanied with another one, with a dark figure hunched over from the window’s view.

“We threw the giant fucker in another carriage,” Changbin said, laughing as he recalled the takedown with Jisung. “Man could not believe he was failing!”

Chris ignored his story, turning to you all as he stood before Carter’s carriage. “You three, take the free one,” he ordered, his eyes rooted on you. “I will journey home with him.”

“But Chris,” you began, taking a step towards him, “Let me come with you.”

You caught a glimpse of the desire which swirled in his eyes, not long ago, and perhaps that was why he held your arm in his now gloved hand. 

“Go,” he only said. “I have a few things to say to him alone.”

After letting you go, nodding at the boys behind you, Chris Bang stepped inside the first carriage, slamming the door shut. The metal wheels screeched as the whole thing began to move, accelerating away.

You watched the carriage fade from view, Jisung and Changbin stepping beside you.

“What happened, ____?” the former asked, the other trying to comfort you with his gaze. 

Silence was their only answer, as you turned on your heel, climbing inside your designated ride and watched the stars twinkle from the window.

The two members of the gang really tried their best.

As you all journeyed home without your leader, the pair told their tale of how they took down Carter and his men, Jisung adding exaggerated gasps as Changbin demonstrated each kill he thrust upon his victims. You offered them a few laughs, giving them your attention, but really your mind was somewhere else, specifically a midnight-tainted criminal who nearly brought you your undoing.

You were insane. Insane as you thought of him, insane as you remembered how wonderfully he had you writhing over him, just by his fingers. The mindless pondering alone had your cunt pulsating, and you deserved an award for how unaffected you acted with your friends. 

Soon, the carriage slowed to a stop, and you perked up, not realising you had already arrived home. 

You waited for the boys to exit before you stepped out of the carriage, the only light on the docks emitting from lamps and the night sky, reflected on the surface of the river. The first carriage was already there when your feet met the concrete floor, and when you turned to the man who reigned in your mind he had his signature expression, an aloof distaste as he walked over to his gang. 

“Jisung, Changbin,” he called, and the boys responded. “Lock the carriage door,” he ordered, jerking his chin towards his transport. “We will bring him out in the morning.”

“Chris, should we not throw him in the cellar?” Changbin glared at Carter’s direction. “Bastard might escape.”

He only slid his hands in his pockets, you catching the dried blood on his gloves. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said, striking a step towards the building. “He’s not going to disturb us tonight. I can promise you that.”

Jisung cursed low along with you, only watching the man walk back to the bedrooms. Bidding goodnight to your friends, you followed Chris’ trail, opening the door and stepping inside the hallway.

You saw him before his bedroom door, bringing out a rusted key. His eyes slid to you as your feet brought you to your entrance. You looked back, waiting as Chris unlocked his room and began to enter.

He turned back, something dark and twisted still lurking in his eyes.

You waited, so patiently at the words you wished to hear, of him finally ruining you.

Instead, you received something else entirely.

“Goodnight, ____.”

And closed the door behind him.

Your heart dropped. 

Fell to the floor, and shattered under the criminal’s bloodied boots. 

The light of the hallway flickered as you stood rooted to the doorway, eyes staring at Chris’ door as if looking at it hard enough would get him to change his mind.

What did you know. The man is not led by exterior forces. Only by his own will.

When you gathered up the strength to the slam the door shut, you slumped against the wood, hating yourself for the tears which threatened to break the lines of your eyes. This was pathetic — utterly disgusting that you were about to cry over his decision.

But you could not help it. You were so enraptured by him. Hell, you were ready to throw yourself in the fires of damnation for him, as he whispered filth all the while rutting against you. Why had that suddenly changed?

“Argh!” You screamed, stomping over to the lamp, light now long extinguished. You relit it’s spark, illuminating the room once more, and set it on the stool before recklessly plucking out the pearls in your hair, a few tears daring to trail down your cheeks. 

Fuck him. Fuck him for making you so rattled. Fuck him for having that effect on you.

You looked into your mirror and cursing yourself for the disheveled appearance. Again, the consequences for letting yourself fall for him.

“To hell with you Bang Chan,” you cursed. 

You were about to untie your dress when your bedroom door was nearly ripped off its hinges. 

Flinching, you grabbed the dagger on your dresser, raised to cut down whoever stupid enough to barge in on an assassin at midnight.

You were met with Christopher Bang. 

And the disorder he brought with him.

Chaos reigned in his figure; his tousled locks, his star-struck expression, his rolled-up sleeves and his pandemonic eyes, all working together and against each other to create the man you had never seen in your life. 

Good God. What had happened to him?

“Chan?” You got out, dagger now brought down. He said not a single word in response as he slammed the door shut, hard enough for the entirety of London to hear. 

Instead, he imprisoned you with his stare, almost giving you his chaos. The chaos you had always shared with him since the moment he picked you off the streets.

No, he said not one word — only took the steps needed to march towards you. You could only watch with widening eyes when he grabbed your face in his rugged hands and collided his lips against yours. 

You did not even hesitate to comply, hands grabbing onto his shirt, pulling him as close as you possibly could, so afraid that he would disappear from your grip if you dared let go. With the way he moved his mouth along yours, however, already opening up the familiar workings, you had a feeling he was not going to abandon you now.

When he broke away, breathing already erratic, his hands slid down to your neck, thumbs caressing the length of your throat. “I couldn’t,” he started, and he was sprinkling kisses all over your face. “I couldn’t leave.”

“I was scared, Chan,” you confessed, fisting the material harder. “I thought you truly did.”

His eyes focused on you. Within the turmoil, there was a promise. “Never,” he whispered, leaning in. “Never again.”

And suddenly his lips were on you, and the desperation was so rooted he nearly stole the very breath from your lungs. The sheer intensity, the longing implied broke your heart to the point you attached yourself to him, wrapping your arms around him and refusing to ever let him go.

The rather soft kiss began to heat up, as Chris broke the seam of your lips, swirling your tongue in his, already receiving incoherent praise from deep down your throat, making the man smile against his lips as he continued. 

His hands slid further down, right to the small of your back, where he began to untie all the little bows he created for you at the dawn of the evening, the little touches of fire singeing you still. It was fascinating how effortlessly he loosened all the laces, fingers sliding through the patterns until one by one they fluttered down, until the dark red dress slackened around your chest. 

A small gasp escaped you as Chris, while creating a trail of kisses down your jaw, right down to your neck, grabs the dress from your sides, hitching it down until it falls to the floor. Leaving you practically naked save for the scraps covering your dangerously soiled underwear. 

Chris paused from his ravishing, taking a much too long look at your skin, glowing from the lamp light, and before he could stare any longer you brought your arms to your chest, suddenly becoming a little too embarassed to let him see you at your most vulnerable. 

The supposedly unfeeling criminal, however, nearly broke into a smile at your flustered nature, and grabbed onto your wrists, opening the lock to your breasts, peaked by his actions, and the thought of what was to come.

The soiled underwear was about to drip at this point.

“You’re exquisite,” was all he said, making you almost burst into tears at the praise. You pressed a long, heart shattering kiss upon his mouth, and he responded perfectly, hands sliding to your naked waist, each drum of his fingers like a tug towards a dangerous edge. 

Things began to take a turn, open mouthed kisses being plastered on the skin of your throat as the man pushed you back, further and further until the back of your knees hit the bed, stopping you in his tracks. His grip on your waist directed downwards, planting you on the mattress as his mouth descended to your collarbone, down and down until he licked your peaked nipple in a way that had you moaning obscenely loud. His husky chuckle resonated along your skin, still not pausing his trail until he hit the end of the dip of your cunt, barricaded by the fabric. 

The moment he looked up at you, that alone made you nearly undo yourself. By the increasing volume of your breathing, Chris seemed to realise so too.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he got out, watching you whimper at each touch caressing your hips. “Already about to come when I haven’t even done anything?”

“Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, wishing for those damned fingers of his to plunge inside of you. The son of a bitch was taking his time, making you wait knowing it pained you to stay like this. “Chan—”

His name on your tongue had him gritting his teeth, hands on each of your side grabbing onto your lace, and sliding your underwear down, all the way till it fell free from your legs and threw it across the room, forgotten when Chris parted his mouth at the moistened treasure between your legs. 

Those roughened hands steeled their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer till you sat right on the edge of the bed, cunt mere inches from his face. You could not even comprehend the insanity of this situation, that the hidden fantasies you dreamed of shamelessly were morphing into reality right before your eyes.

“So, so pretty,” he murmured, blowing a little air on your slick folds, earning himself a sucked in breath from his truly. “So pretty and wet, and all because of me.”

You let out a ragged breath, words of filth sounding so foreign on his tongue. It was not like he didn’t talk like the sailors living near you on the docks, but these dirty words and dirtier intentions, now all directed at you, made you feel so flustered, in a wondrous way you could not possibly describe. All you wanted was for him to keep singing this filth till you blacked out.

Chris, with the force of his hands, spread your thighs a little wider, and without warning broke his tongue from the seam of his lips, planting it upon your slit and moving it slowly over the surface.

That alone made you cry out in ecstasy.

But that was only a test, a taking on of foreign surroundings before truly welcoming himself, and by God, did he welcome himself in as more than a guest, when that tongue slid deeper and performed strokes which had you seeing all the stars in the universe. 

What was first slow teasing then became a starved hunt, tongue relishing in the sweet arousal you emitted, lapping it up brazenly as if he had been wanting to do this for a long, long time. Your blubbering grew louder with every lick, fisting the sheets behind you with such ferocity you were sure they’d tear. 

And if that wasn’t painstakingly enough, the man spread your legs a little wider, his tattooed hand, two fingers out, sliding straight inside you, making you mewl at the way they tightened they walls they journeyed in. Curling, just like they did earlier in the evening, they took their time finding the certain little spot which had you bringing the house down with your cries. 

“Ch-Chan, please, please, I’m going to—AH!” You rasped out, when the said-criminal found the sweet little undoing of yours and stroked your fingers along the sensitive spot, making that bundle of pleasure resonating in your back appear once more, like a low throbbing begging to be released.

His tongue had not given you any breaks, still working ruthlessly along your clit and you cried for him to give you that sweet release, to just let you come but he had not let you be satisfied this easily. No, he wanted you writhing underneath him, wanted the final ruination to be from underneath his trousers, angered as it outlined against his leather.

You craned your head back, screaming out his name because you knew all else had abandoned you. “Chan!” Looking down, his mouth very much occupied with your cunt. Your orgasm was reaching, was on the very edge, and if he kept working on you like this he was on his way to taste the consequences of his actions.

Something about that image made you want it as a reality with a worryingly strong intensity. 

“Chan, I’m going to—” you were about to warn but were interrupted by a squeeze of your thigh, done by yours truly as if he knew. And as if he knew, the two fingers began pumping much faster, harmonising along with his tongue, and the two actions at once, fucking you with that rapidity was so pleasurable that, with the first earth-shattering cry of the night, you were driven over the edge, releasing your orgasm straight into the criminal’s face.

You felt the work of his fingers slow down, along with his tongue, that with one, final lick, he retreated from your cunt, fingers still inside you as they comforted your aching core with slow, soothing strokes. 

When he looked up at you, though, with your residue mostly upon his mouth, scattered on his cheeks, and basically a bit of everywhere, that sight alone nearly caused you to come all over again. 

Perhaps that was his intentions. 

Because when he licked his lips clean of your mess, ever so slowly, as if enjoying your orgasm like a man starved, you instantly saw in his eyes that this night was not over yet. 

“Already so good, so wonderful,” he mused, slipping his fingers out, both hands now resting on your thighs. “Coming so quick even though I had been saving for the last.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but still had the nerve to ask, “The last?”

He raised a groomed brow, and that gesture was so breathtaking, more so when he raised himself slightly, so he knelt eye-level to you. “Don’t act oblivious, love,” he mused, leaving your thighs to your disappointment, but quickly diminishing when his fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping upon, each patch of skin being revealed like a show of your own. “We both know this isn’t how it’s going to end.”

Shivers crawled down your spine, but you only watched as the man finished undoing his shirt, peeling it off of him and throwing it amongst the other clothing. You nearly let spit trail down your chin at the sheer finery of his muscle alone, sharpened at his arms, his chest all the way down to his v-line, which dipped dangerously low. With no small amount of pride, you also noticed the large, angry outline of Chris’ cock, begging to be set free. 

The man caught you blatantly staring, and a shit-eating grin twisted his glistening lips. “You may do the honours if you’re so keen.”

Blushing, you mumbled a shut up, but was captured by Chris’ lips, tasting your own arousal on his tongue, as his grip on you led you further into the bed, while you fumbled on the buttons of his trousers, popping them open one by one when you broke from the kiss, your turn to shower him with more along the veiny expanse of his neck as you pulled his trousers down, tossing them among the pile.

When you saw the slight-stained underwear of his, you felt the familiar throbbing again, so affected by how you affected him. Noticing your apparent pride, he pressed his lips upon you in a searing kiss, peeling off any last scrap of clothing and forgetting that too among the other clothing.

And by God, when Chris Bang’s cock escaped from his underthings your mouth actually watered at the sheer size it bore. Husky laughter resonated in your ears, and you flushed the colour of blood when he caught you staring much too audaciously than he would have imagined. 

“Already fantasising about my cock?” He slurred, the tattooed hand curling stray hairs from your sweat-slick, flushed face. The way you scrunched your nose, clearly flustered by his comment, melted his stone cold heart, as he caressed your cheeks with his fingers. 

You did not answer him, only whispering his name along his skin, waiting and waiting for the man to drive that force home inside you. “Chan,” you murmured, and the name you kept saying like a religious chant, like it was the only word that mattered, was what brought him to grip his cock, directing it against your entrance, the still slick folds which grew more wet every time the tip caressed the sensitive skin. “Chan, please—”

“Please what?” He demanded, demanded because he needed to hear you precisely want you wanted. The words he practically prayed would be on your tongue the moment he kissed you for the first time this evening.

Obliging him was like second nature. “Please fuck me, Chan,” you breathed out, holding onto his shoulders, knowing you were going to need a hell of a good grip for what was about to arrive. “Please, just ruin me with your cock.”

A malicious smile curled upon his lips. “Good, good girl,” he purred, and began the descend which you dreamed of the very first night you realised you were ridiculously attracted to him.

His cock slid inside you, and with a soul-wrenching whine, was perfectly snug as the journey went on, and on, and on, until you were certain you could not take anymore, despite the man retaining a few inches. He was slow at first, making sure you were not going to be pained by this action. Although your nails dug into the granite muscle of his shoulders, you only egged him on. “M-more,” you only said, and he readily obliged, until you felt him all around you in your body, as if he had filled you up to the brim. 

“Ready?” He asked, and when you nodded, he rested his forehead against yours as gently, he began to pull out. 

You nearly whined at the lack of inches filling you up, but then he brought his cock back in, creating this hypnotic rhythm which was so unimaginably ethereal you felt yourself float amongst the clouds. Each thrust out and thrust in was a drive in and out of reality, with Chris Bang holding the tether of your survival, pulling you in and out of his mercy. 

Gradually, he began to fasten, panting as his drove into you with more force, and when the momentum hardened, you felt your soul leave your body. His cock created wonders for you, having you scream in unimaginable pleasure, and driving your nails into his back was not enough, your lewd moaning not enough given to his sheer skill, his pure simplicity in bringing his cock back and front which had you seeing stars. Hell, Christopher Bang showed you undiscovered universes, leading you across galaxies and unfamiliar cosmos, each thrust in a different vision, and when he lifted your leg a little higher for more access, you feared that you would wake the whole docks with your groaning, for this criminal, this heartless criminal provided you with the whole universe with the simple strokes of his cock inside you, and all you could offer him were screams. 

Even your reactions were pure Beethoven to his ears, relishing in your fucked out state as he gave you all he asked, driving you to the edge of the world. You, finally, clashed your lips against his, offering him sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over his face and neck, and that alone had him greeting his teeth, knowing his own release was near. You were going to die if he was not given the same pleasure as you, so you reacted with each of his touches, each of his thrusts, him practically pistoning you upon this bed which very much would break. 

“Ch...Chan…” you grated out, eyes blurring, vision completely fucked, “I’m...I-I—”

“I—fuck,” he too got out, for your last love mark painted onto to the curve of his neck nearly had him ruined. “I’m going to come, too, love—”

“Chan!” You whined, because the throbbing was there, and was so close that if the man did not send that last thrust home then it was all for nothing, everything that had ever happened will all be for nothing.

But he listened. The man who did not listen to anyone or anything listened, and pounded his cock so hard in approval that it had you crying out to the cosmos as you finally let go, orgasm spilling out from whatever space the residue could find between his cock. Your own release had Chris groaning louder than he had even done this entire time, praising you unconditionally, until the filth was cut off by a low curse, with his own release barrelling into you, some joining your spilled mess upon the sheets.

Chris let out a shuddering breath, slowly crossing his movement inside you. Carefully, when you stopped digging your nails into his shoulders, he pulled out, reaching for the blanket untouched and bringing it over you and him before collapsing beside you. Both of you breathed as if you had held your oxygen for a thousand years, chests rising unevenly. 

A silence hung over you two, heavy yet not uncomfortable, lingering in your bedroom. Chris sat up a little, using your pillows behind him as comfort as he raked his hair back, sweat-slick all over, much like you. You held the blanket right up to your chest, hair in disarray, much like your heart. The poor organ threatened to collapse at the events.

Sneakily, you caught a glance at the greatest criminal in London, staring off at the distance, mouth set in a concentrated line. He looked dashing even in his post-sex state, the lines of his chest still stark against his sweat. You truly had never seen a man this beautiful in your life. 

He turned his head to you, catching your staring, and when you tried to look away he captured his chin with his fingers, making you meet his fierce stare. Although dark, the lust had satiated, and instead held passive affection. Well, you hoped it did.

“Why do you still look away?” He demanded in a low, tired voice.

You tried to slide your gaze to the lamp, but was too bewitched by his midnight eyes. “Because you’re beautiful, Chan,” you answered, feeling the blood rush to your face. 

He cocked his head, damp curls sticking to his face. “You say that as if you are not,” he countered. 

You did not say anything then. Even so, he received your answer. 

“____,” he said in a low tone. The grip on your chin loosened, and the hand went to your cheeks, cupping your face. “You are truly flawless. Don’t make me have to make you believe that.”

A small smile hinted at your lips. “And what if I still don’t?”

His answering smirk sent butterflies tumbling once again. After a moment, as if hesitating, he then snaked his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You were surprised when his one hand fully encircled you, while the other hand, the tattooed hand, rested upon your head, stroking your hair with his slender fingers. You did not pull away, was never going to, only wrapping your arm across his chest. 

It was the first time you had ever seen Christopher Bang hug someone in his life.

“Chan?” You asked.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you get that tattoo?”

He paused for a minute, never ceasing his fingers intertwined in your locks. After a small sigh, which you felt beneath your own fingertips, he said, “It is simply something I live by. 

“Non ducor duco. No one will lead me, love. Only myself.”

You pondered over the roots of this phrase, of the significance for the man you lay with. 

“Good,” you said after a while. “I wouldn’t want anyone leading you either.”

With that, you gave into the soothing movement of Chris’ fingers, working lazily in your hair. And while you dozed off to sleep, the criminal mastermind of the biggest city in the world pondered some more, specifically over his motto.

NON DUCOR DUCO. A phrase which had stayed true for so long no one could ever change it.

But after tonight, as you slowly dozed off under Chris’ caresses, he wondered whether there isn’t one person he wouldn’t mind being led by. 

And as he stole a soft glance at the specific person beside him, he knew. 

He knew that although he will be led by no man, there is one woman who he would, to his own shock, happily be led for. 

So, with that new, and slightly terrifying revelation, Christopher Bang went to sleep, knowing that someone had fucked with him and gotten away. 

And he was willingly going to let it happen. 

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

@birdyfreedomsworld​ Tysm!! I’m so glad you enjoyed our work as usual!!

And lord almighty set me free where do I even begin with that jealousy Comte event. I swear my only coherent reaction to it is LOUD INHALE as I try to process how unreal the man is.

You ever just see your old time friend protect your wife from a danger he created (Leonardo if you don’t clean your room I am going to skewer you on that globe) and literally go FULL FUCKING FERAL ABOUT IT. YOU EVER JUST DO THAT. BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT LE COMTE DID AND I’M TOTALLY NOT ASTRAL PROJECTING.

I’ll probably make it later but Comte is literally that meme that’s like. Comte!!!!!! loves!!!!!!! Baguettes!!!!!!!!!! Comte!!!!!!!! loves!!!!!!!!!! MC!!!!!!!!!! Comte!!!!!!!!! loves!!!!!!!!!!!!! sees a single threat to his relationship with MC as her lover REVOLUTION.

He just. The way he conveys that shit is the highlight of my entire life. The savagery. The complete, absolute disregard for anything but possessive horny. I gained entire years of my life from the exchange?????? I’m crying???????????????

AND THE FACT THAT MC WAS DYING FROM HORNY RIGHT BACK!?!?! L E G E N D A R Y. GUESS I’LL JUST HAVE TO STAN FOREVER, HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

For anybody that might be curious and isn’t sure what I’m referring to, I’m gonna clarify under the cut, so pls don’t open it if you don’t want spoilers!!! I want to make sure I don’t ruin anyone’s experience, tyty <3

So essentially we are the MC living our best life minding our own business when suddenly a wild Leonardo appears (sadly no pokeballs today kids, we loyal thots). MC goes to bring a thing to his room and he’s like “cara mia, come in carefully” so naturally MC barges inside and nearly gets demolished by a stack of books as tall as the Eiffel Tower.

Cue Leonardo being himself and leaping on top of her to take the brunt of the books falling, checking on her when it’s over. Comte comes along like merciful heavens, Leonardo, what was that? Are you all ri--

Kill Bill sirens.

Before MC can explain, Leonardo’s bastard instinct kicks in and he pours gasoline on an already raging fire like. What if I. Make Comte. Go actually insane with jealousy. And so he does (says something along the lines of like ARA ARA A COMPROMISING POSITION WOULDN’T YOU SAY) and Comte just. Sighs. And is like MC don’t worry about it, are you all right? Okay then, Leonardo clean up after yourself, see you both later.

I would like you all to know that as I was translating this my exact response to this situation was: “LEONARDO WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS, WHOSE FUCKING MANS IS THIS--HE SURE AIN’T MINE” The difficulty of being a Leonardo stan is that you love him but also sometimes you just really want to shake him a bit. Moving right along.

And MC is just. Huh. He didn’t get jealous?? Guess I should have seen that coming (because she’s an idiot). And so when she’s trying to tell Leo off he’s like “hey hey don’t get mad cara mia, I just like to push his buttons now and again, like seeing him lose his composure.” And MC squints like sounds fake but okay, doesn’t really understand what he means.

Enter, the next scene.

MC still feels uneasy about the whole thing and so she goes searching for Comte after she gets most of her work done, as one does. She finds him at the dining table, staring into a tea cup (I shit you not I read this and all I heard in my head was wAKE ME UP). And she’s like ???? Comte, I uh, I’m sorry about-- And he just smiles gently and shakes his head, repeats that he’s fully aware Leo was just messing around inappropriately. That it’s no biggy.

I must interject to say, in the tone of the “science is a liar sometimes” meme, COMTE IS A LIAR SOMETIMES.

And so MC, with the emotional intelligence of a brick once again, laughs a little and is like “I should have known better than to worry, you’re too mature to let a little mishap like that get to you, haha.” And then. His expression. DROPS. Swear to god you can hear the record scratch sound effect. And he gets deadly, deadly serious. She says his eyes burn suddenly with passion like they only do when they’re alone, and he replies “.............not let it get to me?”

And she’s like w h. And he advances, and it says the click of his Oxford shoes (DRAMATIC YELLING I LOVED THIS DETAIL) strike the floor one, by one, by one. He continues, and this line singlehandedly killed me, “I remember saying that I understood what happened. I never said I didn’t care.”

AND THEN HE KISSES HER SENSELESS. IN THE DINING ROOM. NO HOLDS BARRED. NO MERCY. FOR SEVERAL MINUTES.

Of course, Leonardo being the cockblock that he is comes stomping down the hall (when I tell you I had Shigezane war flashbacks WHEN I TELL YOU--) Comte finally relents and murmurs at her ear that they’ll finish this later. Leonardo comes in like OOPSY DID I INTERRUPT and I’m pretty sure Comte is inches from beating Leonardo with his teacup. But I digress.

There is a scene after that that’s hilarious where Leo’s like DAMN SON you really did a number on poor cara mia. And Comte just snaps back “And whose fault is that, asshole.”

The event essentially ends with Comte railing her senseless--as any Comte stan dreams of--and some of the things he says are just unreal. The absolute, soft possessive borderline yan energy obliterates me. He is so much kids. HE IS SO MUCH. He essentially tells her that the last thing he wants to do is stop her from living freely and interacting with everyone as usual, because he does consider them family. But at the same time the very prospect of sharing her with anyone literally destroys him on the inside so naturally the solution is to stake his claim until she passes out.

It’s a little funny because the morning after he feels SO bad about it. He’s stroking her hair and asking if he was too rough or went too far and MC is just blissed out like the legend she is. She mentions wanting to see his full honest self--all of his feelings, no matter how intense--and so he’s like is that so? And then does her all morning too because he’s also literally a legend that loves his wife more than anything else in the entire world, thank you for coming to my TED talk.

If you managed to get through even half of that I salute you, comrades, I’ll be here drinking my pina colada and dying over the fact that this man ain’t real. Some bullshit. And yes I do love dancing in the rain

[zackcollins]

like a train through a house of glass ch. 3 || carter hart

chapter 1 || chapter 2

Author’s Note: So. Uh. Chapter 3 is done incredibly quickly after chapter 2. For the sake of things, I’ve decided to schedule it again. It’ll be today at 11:00 am again. Once again, if you’d like that to change, feel free to let me know! I’m always willing to accommodate the needs of my readers. GIF credit to the original creator!! 

Warning: Same as the last two: the reader is paralyzed. Though, you should know that by now if you’re reading this. Regardless, it’s good to tell you just in case. I can’t remember if I added swear words to this chapter or not but I’ll put a warning for those just in case. I also mention how the reader became paralyzed. It’s nothing violent or graphic; just a throwaway comment in an internal monologue.

Words: 1.9k+

Title: Crash by Chad Brownlee

Additional: The language is gender-neutral again but I had one of the characters use the word “hun” to refer to the reader. That was the most gender-neutral pet name I could think of that wasn’t necessarily romantic (since it wasn’t Carter calling the reader that); I hope that’s alright for everyone. As for the doctor being named Dr. Owen: Jake Owen was playing on my Spotify when I needed a name for her. Fair enough?

When you arrived at the arena, Carter had nearly fallen asleep on your shoulder. Chuckling softly, you rolled your shoulder to get his attention. Carter jolted a little, whacking his head against your chin. You both cursed softly. You heard Morgan chuckle and Joel scoff.

“‘M sorry,” Carter mumbled, stretching as best he could in the confines of his car. “I didn’t really sleep last night. I was too worried about you.” Blushing, Carter focused his attention out the window on the other side of the car. 

You felt your heartache at those words. The fact that Carter was watching out for you was heartwarming. Grabbing his jaw, you brought his head over to face you. You saw the blush creep along his face as you thumbed his cheek. Before you could kiss him, your door swung open and startled both of you.

“Way to be a cockblock, Farabee,” Carter said, glaring at Joel.

Joel chuckled. “Cockblock implies sex. If sex was going to happen in the back of your car in the parking garage of the practice arena… well. I’m glad I stopped it.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes at Joel. Morgan giggled from the front seat, unbuckling his seatbelt. 

“I’ll grab the wheelchair,” Morgan said, stepping out of the car. “Is Joel going to lift (Y/N) again? Or would Carter want to do it this time?”

Morgan unlocked the trunk, leaning in to grab the wheelchair. A moment later, he cursed. You, Carter, and Joel looked over your shoulders.

“You okay, Morgan?” Carter asked, stretching again. 

When you heard his back pop, part of you felt envious. You wanted desperately to feel that sensation again. To feel the rush of electricity flow through your nerve endings as you popped a cramped joint back into place. Unfortunately, a drunk driver had taken that away from you. Now, you had to suffer from the possibility that the fleeting feelings you got today when Carter and Joel touched you could quite possibly be the only feelings you ever felt in your lower half ever again. 

“Yeah, fine, fine,” Morgan said, closing the trunk with a thunk. “I whacked my head on the trunk latch.”

Joel scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Do you need to go to the training staff? Wouldn’t want you to have a concussion.”

Morgan appeared beside Joel a moment later pushing your wheelchair. “This coming from the guy who cried the last time he had sex.”

Turning red, Joel hastily walked toward the arena with an embarrassed look on his face. Morgan rolled his eyes, chuckling. Carter blinked, looking in the direction Joel had hurried off in and then back to Morgan. You noticed the cogs turning in Carter’s head; the same cogs were turning in your head.

Morgan locked the wheels on your wheelchair before leaning over you and unbuckling your seatbelt. You smiled at him, patting him on the chest. A look of pride washed across Morgan’s face as he scooped you out of your seat.

“Morgan?” You asked, still in his arms.

Yes, (Y/N)?” Morgan replied, slipping you into your wheelchair.

“Are you and Joel…?” You motioned between you and Carter, hoping that got the point across.

It seemed to have the desired effect because Morgan’s face turned eleven shades of scarlet and he stumbled a little with your final placement in your wheelchair. He mumbled an apology as he shifted you to sit properly. You smiled, squeezing his wrist. Carter appeared at that moment, squeezing Morgan’s shoulder as he closed the car door.

Morgan exhaled through his nostrils, glancing between you and Carter. He leaned against the car, putting his hands in his pockets. He cast his head down, looking at his feet as he kicked around a pebble.

“Yes,” Morgan whispered, looking back at you and Carter. His face was frightened, one on the brink of tears.

“Oh, sweetie,” you said, grabbing his wrists and rubbing circles into them.

“We won’t tell anyone,” Carter said. He smiled sincerely at Morgan. Morgan smiled back, taking his hands from your grip to wipe his eyes.

Morgan opened his mouth to reply but quickly snapped it shut when Kevin, Travis, and Nolan walked by. Nolan and Kevin kept walking, talking to each other; Travis stopped, raising an eyebrow. He walked over after a moment, motioning a circle around Morgan’s face. 

“You don’t seem happy,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

“Joel and I are dating and I’m scared about people finding out,” Morgan blurted before bringing his hands to cover his mouth. His eyes turned glassy with tears as he pushed Carter and Travis out of the way to run toward the arena.

Travis blinked, holding up a finger and leaving his mouth agape. He looked between you and Carter, face comically confused. You and Carter both shrugged, Carter going so far as to pat Travis on the shoulder.

“If he doesn’t want me to tell anyone, I won’t,” Travis said after a moment of palpable silence. The three of you started making your way toward the arena, Travis still looking confused. “That secret is his and Joel’s to let out of the bag.”

Carter hummed, smiling at Travis. You nodded along, thanking Travis when he held the door for you. You bid the boys farewell, Carter leaning down and kissing you as was his ritual before practice. 

You were left sitting in the lobby as the boys walked away; you never knew where you were supposed to go while you waited for practice to officially start. Your wheelchair jostled, making you jump a little. When you looked over, Ryanne was standing there. She was holding two coffees, one of which she offered to you.

“(Y/N), I had time to stop for coffee,” she smiled as you took the cup from her. “Claude didn’t want one today, so I decided to get one for you instead. Chai latte with vanilla, right?”

Nodding, you took a drink. It was still warm as you swallowed it. You made a satisfying sound and smiled at Ryanne. “Thank you! This is wonderful, Ryanne.” You raised the cup in salute.

Smiling, Ryanne raised her own cup in salute. “You’re welcome, hun. Carter beams about you so I thought I’d treat you today.”

You felt a blush creep across your body. Ryanne chuckled when she noticed the red tint rising on your face. She raised her cup in salute again, taking a drink.

“He really does love you, (Y/N),” she said as soon as she was done drinking. You cast a shy glance at Ryanne. “He’s talked about how caring for you has brought him a deeper appreciation for people with disabilities. He’s mentioned wanting to marry you and start a family with you. He’s said he’d love kids but it can be dogs instead if that’s more practical.”

Your entire face was ablaze with feeling; what made you the happiest was the butterfly sensation that had settled in your stomach. You grabbed Ryanne’s hand, squeezing it. She tilted her head, resting her coffee cup on the arm of your wheelchair.

“I…” you trailed off, squeezing your eyelids shut. You didn’t want to cry in the middle of the practice arena. Though, if you did end up crying, Ryanne was one of the few people besides Carter you were completely comfortable crying in front of. “I can feel butterflies in my stomach.”

Ryanne squeezed her coffee cup which caused some coffee to dribble out. It dribbled onto your pant leg. You cast her a sideways glance to which she gave you an apologetic look. 

“I’m—“ Ryanne started, moving backward toward the concession stand for a napkin.

“Don’t,” you said, holding your hand up. “I can barely feel the heat of the coffee.”

A soft smile spread across Ryanne’s face as she planted her feet back into the floor. She cupped the top of your hand with her free hand, squeezing graciously. You took a sip of your coffee, casting Ryanne a soft expression with your eyes the entire time. 

“When’s your next appointment? Dr. Owen needs to know all of this,” Ryanne said, squeezing your hand once more before moving her hand away.

“A couple of weeks. Carter was going to see if he could make one sooner because this was happening this morning, too.”

“Nonsense, (Y/N),” Ryanne scoffed, reaching into her purse. “You and Carter have enough to worry about. Let me change the appointment. What kind of wife of the captain would I be if I didn’t help the team when they needed it?”

Taking another drink of your coffee, you felt a mixture of warmth and butterflies spread in your stomach. It felt amazing to be loved by people that really only had to affiliate with Carter. You smiled at Ryanne as she stepped aside to call Dr. Owen.

While Ryanne was on the phone, you sat and contemplated what she had said about Carter. You already knew he loved you but apparently not the extent at which he did. Carter had never mentioned to you about wanting to marry you; then again, you had been having feelings about wanting to marry him and hadn’t mentioned them to him meaning you couldn’t hold that against him. There was also a part of you that was wanting to start a family with him and you were on board with either the children or dog option; both at the same time even appealed to you. 

“(Y/N)?” Ryanne’s voice snapped you out of whatever trance-like state you had been in. You took a sip of coffee, pleased that it was still somewhat warm. “Dr. Owen said she could squeeze you in tomorrow at noon. We don’t have a game tomorrow, so I can get Vigneault to excuse Carter from training.”

Nodding, you took another sip of coffee. Peeling at the label on the cup, you looked at Ryanne. “Did you mean what you said?” 

“About Carter being able to be excused from training?” Ryanne tilted her head, looking at you with a little confusion. “Yeah, why? Vigneault knows how much you mean to Carter. He’d let him out of anything for you.”

You felt your stomach swoop, heart quickening in pace. “I meant about Carter saying he loves me and wants to start a family with me.”

Ryanne’s expression softened. She rubbed the back of your shoulder, smiling lightly.

“Of course, (Y/N),” she said. “Carter gushes about you more than Claude gushes about the baby.” She grabbed your hand, placing it on her stomach. You felt the baby kick your hand, causing you to jolt a little in surprise. Ryanne chuckled. “Yeah, he’s feisty.”

You gave Ryanne a fond look before you finished drinking your coffee. You thanked her again for the coffee before you wheeled yourself to the garbage can to throw the cup out. Ryanne smiled at you as she walked to sit in her usual alcove.

Left sitting in the lobby by yourself again, you sighed. You now had the information that Carter wanted to marry you and start a family with you rattling around in your brain. It was rattling alongside the information that you wanted to do the same with him. 

You heard a shrill whistle cut through the air. Sighing again, you packed that information away for later. Having an internal crisis could wait.

You had a hockey practice to watch.

[allimariexf]

(Arrow 7x15 thoughts) Olicity: the team within the team (always)

I wanna apologize because MY BODY CANNOT HOLD ALL THESE EMOTIONS and I’m a mess so I”m sorry for whatever happens here

SO. MUCH. OLICITY. I had forgotten it could be like this. WHY did they withhold for so much of the season and then give us so much Olicity in a single ep? (never mind don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, right?)

“I want this partnership to be done right and to be legitimate from the beginning for our baby.” OUR BABY. and then HIS FACE!!! He’s trying to be all serious but he cannot stop that smile of happiness that’s taking over his face because he is so happy omggggg!!!!!!

subtle harp-like Olicity theme in the background is almost literally MY HEARTSTRINGS BEING PLAYED 

OH GOD THEY BRING IN “BELIEF” AND I AM DEAD HOW DARE THEY: “If you believe that this is what’s best for the city and what is ultimately best for our family, then I agree. Because we’re a team too.” and then: “Always.”

HOW DARE THEY HOW DARE HOW DARE HOW DARE THEY

CALL BACK TO EVERYTHING THEY HAVE EVER SAID TO EACH OTHER ABOUT BELIEVING IN EACH OTHER

AND ABOUT THEIR PARTNERSHIP

AND “ALWAYS”

the way she walks toward him and takes him by the lapels 😭 such a Felicity move

HIS FACE WHEN SHE DOES IT 😍 ohhhhh I have missed Oliver’s heart eyes and those are HEART EYES IN FULL FORCE

but most of all THE WAY HE IS GAZING AT HER WHEN HE SAYS “ALWAYS,” and HIS VOICE HOLY SHIT that’s a different voice from anything we’ve ever heard 

(now if only he had hair and if only he would take off that DAMN COAT like that coat is like a third wheel at this point geez it’s honestly like a built in cockblock, in fact maybe he wears it all the time because otherwise they’d never stop getting it on? Hmm new headcanon maybe 🤔)

ughhhhhh and then the kiss after the “always” MY HEART I AM DEAD

“...that we don’t tell anybody about what’s happening in here”

UM Felicity is adorable here okay??? “in here” omggg

and more importantly OLIVER CLEARLY THINKS SO TOO 😍😍😍 his eyes and smile OH GOD

and then the second kiss!!! like 

I love the adorable married going-in-for-multiple-kisses thing and 

the way she smiles going into that second kiss and then 

they just LINGER THERE like Olicity really knows how to LINGER like the 3x01 first kiss and the 3x20 goodbye kiss and now we have this, the 7x15 “better future” kiss and they just LINGER with their lips together on that thought and she breathes him in and IT’S JUST SO BEAUTIFUL someone needs to come put me back together please 😭

I am destroyed and resurrected (repeatedly) under the cut...

“...so about that tartine...”

HOW ADORABLE IS IT the way his face shifts into that smile and you just know that he has been doting on her SO MUCH and he LOVES IT HE LOVES COOKING FOR HIS WIFE AND BABY like honestly YOU KNOW IT’S HIS #1 PLEASURE IN LIFE NOW NO CONTEST

“Have I told you lately how smart you are?”

OKAY first off having Oliver actually talk to Felicity about Arrow stuff??? FUCKING FINALLY OKAY. This is the dynamic Olicity was BUILT ON and MY SOUL HAS BEEN PARCHED FOR IT. Felicity is Oliver’s #1 partner. BLESS THIS EPISODE FOR REMEMBERING THAT. FOR SHOW US THEIR PARTNERSHIP, which honestly the entire SHOW is built on.

okay and HIS FACE before he says the thing, when he’s just thinking to himself about how smart she is and how much he admires and respects her and needs her as his partner?????? It’s the perfect Olicity mix of LOVE, ADMIRATION, and RESPECT??? THAT IS WHY I LOVE OLICITY. RIGHT THERE. 

and then the way he GAZES AT HER WITH PERFECT HEART EYES after she says she “never gets tired of hearing it” because HE IS SO SMITTEN WITH HIS WIFE/PARTNER/LOVE OF HIS LIFE 😍😍😍

UGH and then his reaction to “I want mint chip” like THEY ARE SO IN SYNC he gets her 100% completely he understands and he’s 100% there for her and UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH someone stick a fork in me

because it’s THE PERFECT TRANSITION from Team Arrow to Olicity, just a seamless blend of the work and the relationship because BOTH is who they are I don’t think I will ever be over that moment ughhhhhh

“You guys go ahead, I ate something that’s not gonna mix well with alcohol.”

UM OKAY callback to the 3x01 first date or coincidence? (“The alcohol is not going to mix well with the 3 Benzos I took”) I think I’m gonna go with DELIBERATE CALLBACK.

THE WINKING OMG. LITERALLY THE CUTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN? MAYBE.

also Oliver looks SUPER hot in that moment, whooooboy. THAT LOOK IS 🔥🔥🔥

“I think you look exactly the same.”

EXCUSE ME BUT am I the only one who is reading wayyy into this just like, the way he says it, her smile?? It’s like a reminder of all they’ve been through together, how much they’ve grown and changed (and also yes hello callback to the season 7 Felicity arc) and yet she is still Felicity, they are still Oliver and Felicity, and like...........?????? EXCUSE ME AGAIN 😭😭😭

and then he sits down on the bed and they’re just talking on their bed like THANK YOU I NEEDED THIS IN MY SOUL

“I may have thought of a name for a girl...Mia.”

Letting us see him looking into her eyes, a little uncertain, being vulnerable with her...I AM ALIVE!

Because he knows she’s going to pick up on the fact that it’s in honor of his mother

AND MOIRA!!! JUST 

we know how important she was to Oliver, but also how complicated, how it ties in with his confused feelings for his family and his legacy, but also his deep love for his family and just how important family is to him, but it also involves this awareness of how Moira figured into Oliver and Felicity’s history, how without her having done what she did they never would have met, and his awareness and resulting hesitation because he knows Felicity didn’t get along with Moira, and THEN AND THEN her acceptance ( “I love it” ) just confirms THIS ONE ESSENTIAL FACT ABOUT OLIVER and about ARROW ITSELF: that no one is perfect, we all have our faults, but there’s love anyway: “Family is precious, and that it’s LOVE, IN SPITE OF EVERYTHING, THAT MAKES IT PRECIOUS.” 😭😭😭😭 I AM DEAD AGAIN because it’s everything y’all I don’t even have words right now

and his smiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiile 😭😭😭

“Regardless of whether we have a boy or a girl, I just want to make sure that she or he ends up growing up in a better and safer Star City than I did.” / “Yeah.” / “I want that for both of our children. They’ll always have each other to lean on.” “And they’ll always have us.”

THEY ARE HOLDING HANDS FOR THIS ENTIRE CONVERSATION

and she strokes his face

and HE HOLDS HER GAZE FOR SO LONG after he says “both of our children” what are these teeeears!?!? 😭

(and we’re going to ignore the clearly ominous overtones because fuck that)

look at them just staring into each other’s eyes holding hands A FAMILY 💗💗💗💗💗💗

The BUNKER 

OLICITY IN THE BUNKER ALONE TOGETHER BECAUSE THEY ARE THE TEAM WITHIN THE TEAM, THE BEATING HEART OF TEAM ARROW 

AND THEN JOHN JOINS THEM to complete OTA, the core, the TRUE, perfect, COMPLETE Team Arrow and it is perfect! 

and then when Dinah and Rene show up, Oliver says: “We found a lead. Well, Felicity found a lead.” THANK YOU THANK YOU WRITERS THANK YOU I will always be grateful for every acknowledgement that Felicity is essential to Team Arrow - essential - and having it come from Oliver’s mouth is OF COURSE The Best.

OTA: FUCK. YES. “So what don’t I know about?” / “We’re having a baby.”

OLIVER’S FACE when he wants to tell John about the baby!! HE CANNOT KEEP THAT SMILE OFF HIS FACE 💗 it’s possible my life is complete UGH HE IS SO HAPPY HE CANNOT CONTAIN IT 😭

And when she says “we’re having a baby” HIS FACE actually BOTH OF THEIR FACES y’all I AM ALIVE the way they are both standing their TRYING TO CONTAIN THEIR HAPPINESS????

and they both say “Yeah” and their EYES??? 😍

but like @it-was-a-red-heeler said he’s making the 3x01 face and OH GOD WHAT A PERFECT COMPLETE CIRCLE 😭😭😭

JUST LOOK AT THEM STANDING THERE TELLING THEIR BEST FRIEND THAT THEY ARE HAVING A BABY

John, who said, “And when you meet the right person, you'll be ready for her,” who said “I think our Miss Smoak is smitten,” who said “I think you didn’t have a problem with Felicity’s performance until she met Barry Allen,” who said “not like us” regarding Oliver’s inability to express his emotions, who said “I know it must be difficult for you, seeing them together,” who said “Why don’t I, uh, give you two a second?,” who said “Maybe Felicity will change all that” and “you love her, you even told her so,” who said “You need her to be anyplace where Ray Palmer isn’t” and “You’re in the field without your head on straight” and “If that were true, you’d be with her, man” and “This thing with you and Palmer is messing with his head” and “You gotta tell her how you feel before it’s too late,” and (skipping way ahead), “I’m not the one she was going to marry,” and “I’m the guy who’s been trying to keep you two together,” so like EXCUSE ME BUT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 OKAY?

Delicity: “Morning sickness or not, Felicity, you have not missed a beat. You were absolutely amazing out there, your tech was phenomenal.”

It’s a little clunky but if this is the final ironing out of all their issues, I’ll accept it. (I’m easy.)

I AM HERE FOR ALL THE ADMIRATION AND RESPECT FOR FELICITY SMOAK (in her hero/genius/badass capacity).

I ESPECIALLY AM HERE FOR the acknowledgement that she can be both a pregnant woman and a hero/badass/vigilante. (And I am going to take that as assurance that they WILL NOT FORGET THIS FACT.)

also blahblahblah foreshadowing.

Overwatch/ Team Arrow

first off: OVERWATCH!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK. YES. My show is back.

second of all: Every time Oliver touches his comm and says “Overwatch” it’s like a virtual orgasm and we were coming all.night.long. friends 😂 I mean there were like 4 times, right?? OH GOD YESSSSSSSSS

but I am SO SERIOUS: Team in the field and Overwatch on the comms IS ARROW and I have missed it soooooo much and now I LIVE!

and yes the SCPD scenes were all freaking HILARIOUS especially Felicity’s reaction to the tech + her “loopholes” + Oliver and Felicity doing a side mission on their own 😍😍😍 (we will not comment on the ridiculousness of the random boiling hydrochloric acid nor the fact that they clearly would have known that evidence gathered in such a manner would be inadmissible)

meanwhile I loved Felicity’s line in the Master Chef scene: “This partnership’s not going to work if she forgets who she’s hired.” PERFECTION. HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD. EXACTLY. THANK YOU.

Other stuff

Am I the only one getting excited because it feels like only a matter of time before we completely shed NTA? They just feel sooo unnecessary at this point (I mean they always did but now they just seem like even an inconvenience to the writers)

I truly COULD. NOT. CARE. LESS. about Dinah’s storyline. Like, I’m sorry. I like Juliana. But they’ve never made me love Dinah, as much as I wanted to, and then after s6 honestly she is the member of NTA that I disliked the most, and I have always fucking hated that stupid Canary Cry (again, I much preferred Sara as the Canary, how badass she was as a fighter and the Cry was just an added bonus, and it wasn’t nearly as ridiculous as it later became with Laurel and then Dinah. UGH. At least that’s gone.) The one thing I appreciated about this storyline was the conclusion that the Cry is not an essential part of the Canary. DUH.

Ben Turner’s kid as Connor Hawke: I called it like one minute before the reveal lol. I like it, though I kinda wanted more Ben Turner, and this makes me think he’s gonna die :(

Flash Forwards/William and Mia: yessssssss 💗💗💗

though I still think there’s more on that micro-cassette. The missed messages from Oliver and Felicity. More clues from future Felicity. Meanwhile hearing Felicity’s message to her children just DESTROYS 😭😭😭😭😭

THE PROMO OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD I AM NOT READY

Um I think that’s all the freakout I can fit in one post. I’m a mess. Someone needs to pick my pieces up off the floor and put me together again, please. 

[lizzybeth1986]

Quick Thoughts on TRR Book 3 Chapter 20

• Note: Screenshots for Hana are from @kennaxval , HIMEME YouTube Channel for Drake and Vika Avey YouTube Channel for Maxwell. Alright. Looks like this book will take another two chapters, fam!

• I feel like one will be for the final showdown between Liam and Anton, and the eventual aftermath, and the last one will be an epilogue of sorts, where the MC either has her coronation or is honoured in a special ceremony for her bravery. But I could be wrong, so don't take me altogether on my word.

• Wanna know how to be friendzoned by your spouse at your own wedding reception? Be Hana.

• I'm serious. Even if she's fucking married to you she's still expected to play the part of Professional Best Friend™. She acts more the bridesmaid than the actual bride.

• Title: A Warm Reception. Well that reception is about to get scalding hot by the end of this chapter!

• The chapter begins with a lovely sweet scene with your husband/wife (it's so nice to finally say it!!) and what they're looking forward to at the reception. In the options you get to hint at the main course you picked (if you paid the diamonds) or the cake (if you paid the diamonds) + the toast (for which you will now pay diamonds).

• We meet Ana de Luca at the boutique and she shows us a dress that...still looks like it would be more suitable for a wedding instead.

Okay maybe a little risque for a wedding...but still. I guess I'm more used to the bride changing into a different colour for the reception (for us Malayali Christians, we usually change into saris of whatever colour - but mostly red - after the wedding and the mass is over).

Well of course I'm choosing this. The other option is the dreaded LBD (alright not that dreaded. It's a lot better than Bluebelle, after all).

• Madeleine is extra snippy and snarky compared to her usual, and is determined to change her job description from Press Sec to Professional ClamJammer/Cockblocker™.

• Look, you lucky sods who did the fling option. My MC has had no sex since Valtoria and SHE. IS. THIRSTY.

• So we enter the hall, congratulated and complimented like any regular wedded couple, our friends surrounding us with joy and promises of a good time. Court members like Kiara and Penelope confess to crying over your vows (I'm guessing this crops up only if you chose the vow diamond option in Chapter 18).

• Boy they really are laying it in thick with Liam's heartbreak if he's not marrying you aren't they. Like they HAVE to drill it in you that THIS MAN STILL LOVES YOU AND IS IN PAIIIIIN before this entire betrayal fiasco occurs. They're like a few lines short of literally writing it on the poor man's forehead.

• In each playthrough, once you're done getting felicitations from everyone, you then get to meet the rest of the groom/bride's families.

In Liam's playthrough Regina and Leo tell Liam how proud they are of him, and Leo is impressed at his wedding taking place in Bossina Cathedral (hinting at the fact that if you married him in RoE, he was one of the few royals who did not get married there). In Drake's playthrough, the MC meets Bianca, and we find out more about both her and Jackson (Jackson wasn't a big fan of big events with lots of people, and Bianca can't wrap her head around the gazillion spoons and their purpose on the dinner table. Don't let your future son-in-law Bertrand catch you saying that, Bianca!). In Hana's playthrough, Xinghai and Lorelai sound nostalgic, and Lorelai tells Hana that she wishes Hana had let her braid her hair. Hana tenses up at the comment, but given the speech Lorelai gives later on, it seems more like a sentimental moment she wanted to share with Hana before the wedding. In Maxwell's playthrough, the family members are Bertrand, Savannah and Bartie, and Savannah uses her time with the newlyweds to...make pointed remarks about "how hard it is to take the leap" and give Bertrand shade for taking their relationship further yet. Um. Okay Savannah.

• We then move on to the main course. Now if you didn't buy the group scene at the festival in Castelserraillian, you do have a main course - they just don't specify what it is. If you do, however, the main course you chose will unlock a scene with the LI that recommended it. The chicken tagine unlocks some playful dialogue between Liam and Leo about how much Liam disliked this dish and how much his tastes have changed since then. The ash-e reshteh unlocks a cute scene between Hana and her parents about their experience in Iran during the Persian New Year, including a sweet story about how Lorelei had lost her bag and ended up walking around in a t-shirt instead. The feijoada stew doesn't give us any extra stories, but it does unlock a funny scene where Bertrand looks suspiciously at the stew ("It smells like...Drake". Bertrand Bertrand Bertrand. If only you knew how much grovelling you'd have to do in front of Drake later), Drake encourages him to try it, and Bertrand is bowled over by the taste. I guess that's to be expected, considering Drake only specified that he liked the taste of the stew rather than assign any personal connection to it. Overall...nice touch having the food item connected to the LI that suggested it to you, and it makes me a little sadder about the fact that they didn't assign one to Maxwell at all.

• The LI you married gives their speech for free, each in their own unique style, each giving us an insight into their individual stories:

In their individual ways, each LI stresses on how their love story wasn't expected to work out, but did despite all the odds. Both Maxwell and Drake are self-deprecating: one speaks of how he - even now - cannot imagine that this beautiful feisty woman would choose a 'cynical bastard' like him, while the other highlights how fairytale-like her journey was expected to be and how he was the court jester who shouldn't have been getting the girl, but did. (Lol I also noticed that the married Drake now calls his spouse "Walker" 😄 Edit: Looks like this is by option. @i-dream-so-i-write tells me that in the carriage scene post the wedding, you get to choose what he should call you, which I missed. Nice touch!). Hana speaks of how her feelings towards the MC gradually developed over time, becoming stronger and more difficult to ignore even though she knew they were both supposed to be here on the same purpose (ie. vying for Liam's hand). Liam's highlights his constant fears that their relationship would be brought to an abrupt end several times, but above all, he speaks of her as Cordonia's Queen, reminds his subjects that she has proved her worth as a leader time and again. This is important, because it's a reminder that Liam will always belong to two: to his country, and to the woman who marries him.

• You then get a diamond option to hear the toasts of all your friends (the remaining LIs + Olivia) + a family member of that particular LI. In each playthrough, there are discrepancies: ones that seemed odd and confusing to me at first but that clearly show a pattern. Each LI will have just one fellow LI who will speak about them as well, rather than just the MC, and a family member who will reflect on that person's growth. Out of all of them, Olivia addresses only one directly with substantial attention to the LI: and that is Liam (she has a line directed to Drake that is doubtless funny but actually doesn't add anything and could have been done without really). Each one ends with a final toast from Bertrand. So here's what the breakdown of the toasts in each playthrough:

Liam: Toasts given by Drake, Olivia, Maxwell, Hana and Bertrand. Family member: Leo.

Leo's speech is primarily about bringing us back to the roots of the TRR story (his abdication and the aftermath of it all is how this story begins, after all), and reminding us of how it all began. He acknowledges the toll his decision must have taken on Liam, but also makes it clear that the MC has helped Liam find the balance between his duties and his needs that he so clearly needed.

The LI who focuses on Liam is Drake. This is but natural, given their deep bond and personal history. He speaks of Liam's "heart of gold" that matches the literal gold he's got around, and considers him his brother.

Maxwell and Hana focus on the MC, and only cursorily mention Liam (Maxwell does cute finger guns though lol).

Olivia's toast is special to the MC because it's where she makes clear her respect for her, and confesses that though she hated her in the beginning it turned into respect. Liam is perhaps the only LI Olivia properly acknowledges:

In the rest of the playthroughs, Olivia may end up being Liam's eventual Queen, but in this one - she is affirming that whether he belongs to her or not, he remains her inspiration and she will always care for him. Kinda like a fitting goodbye to that dream I guess? Comparatively, she ignores the other LIs, except for Drake whom she baits and then declines to make a toast for.

Bertrand speaks of his personal journey with the MC, but does not make more than a cursory mention of Liam and the fact that the MC is now Queen.

Drake: Toasts given by Liam, Hana, Maxwell, Olivia and Bertrand. Family member: Savannah.

Savannah's toast is more centered around the MC than it is Drake, and possibly gives the MC more credit than is wise. Like yes, if the MC chooses she can convince Drake to actually reach out and talk to his sister, but she wasn't the one who - in Savannah's words - "found" Savannah. That was all on Drake. Drake was the one who found the address. He was the one who took initiative to check it out and see who stayed there. All the MC does is maybe give him the required push to stay, and even that is optional. In any case...when Savannah does talk about Drake it is to reaffirm his deep denial that there was anything between them up until he was able to get engaged to the MC.

The LI who focuses on Drake is Liam. He speaks of their long-standing friendship, how Drake deserves happiness, and hints at how much he has sacrificed for Cordonia without taking anything in return.

Again, Maxwell and Hana do not mention Drake except in passing, and their toasts are mostly dedicated to their friendship with the MC.

Olivia's toast is basically added here just because Olivia-roasting-Drake is popular, and I think it falls a little flat really.

Bertrand, being Drake's future brother-in-law, speaks briefly of his affection for the Walker family and therefore affirms his respect for Drake based on what he has heard of him from Savannah.

Hana: Toasts by Maxwell, Liam, Drake, Olivia and Bertrand. Family member: Lorelai.

Lorelai's toast ties in with what she tells Hana at the beginning of the reception. She brings up the way she used to braid Hana's hair as a reference point to her childhood, speaking at length of how close they were even if the relationship was a strained one. She speaks of how afraid she was of losing Hana, and how she is now coming to terms with the fact that by setting her free she is actually becoming closer to Hana than she ever imagined. Which is nice...but as with most things Hana related...it's a whitewashed pretty picture that really doesn't delve properly into this relationship as it has been depicted before.

The LI that focuses on Hana is Maxwell. It's clear that there is a tiny element of hero-worship there ("when I grow up I want to be like Hana Lee"). He acknowledges her particular manner of caring for people, her amazing dance skills and her kindness. It's quite sweet, even though frustrating because I've seen more of the LIs laud Hana's perfections in lieu of proper characterization. But that aside. It's sweet.

In this case, it is Liam and Drake who do not focus on Hana, instead stopping at their toast to the MC. Olivia does not directly address Hana either.

Bertrand, as with Liam's playthrough, doesn't have much to say about Hana the way he does about Drake and (understandably) Maxwell.

Maxwell: Maxwell's has only four options - the remaining LIs and Olivia. This is because Bertrand, Maxwell's brother and only surviving family, is also the MC's sponsor and speaks in that capacity as well. In the case of Maxwell's playthrough, he represents both the bride and the groom.

Bertrand's toast here is pretty much an extension of his toast in the other playthroughs, with him exploring his history with his brother. He recognizes Maxwell's gifts, acknowledges the childlike quality that is a part of him, confesses there is so much about Maxwell that he doesn't and may never really understand, and apologizes for making him feel like he deserves less than to know his brother is proud of him. It reflects on the journey the Beaumont brothers have taken, and how he finally realizes Maxwell's worth.

The LI that focuses on Maxwell is Hana. Like Maxwell she speaks of his excellent dancing skills, but then again she also speaks of his zest for life, his sense of humour, his playful spirit.

Liam and Drake focus on the MC instead of Maxwell, which feels a bit odd since they've known him for long enough as well, but I can appreciate that Liam and Drake are closer to each other than to anyone else in the group, and so are Hana and Maxwell.

Again, Olivia does not say anything about Maxwell either.

It looks like they decided to center the toasts around the MC for the most part, with a few insights on the LI from those closest to them. They spread that out by including a family member and an LI close to to them, and additionally in Liam's case, Olivia.

• Seeing Hakim try to say "WOO" and then ask if he's doing it right if you ask everyone to say make some noise, has to be the cutest thing about this chapter xD

•

Yes Esther. He picked the song. From the HSS soundtrack.

• Each LI then speaks about/alludes to their previous dances with you. Liam recalls the first dance at the Masquerade, Hana alludes to the many dances they have done over the course of the story (mostly because dancing with her is optional), Drake speaks about wanting to get things right especially on their special day and Maxwell speaks about having the right mood and music depending on the situation. Quite sweet.

• Once the wedding dance is done, the LIs dance in a group together. Liam twirls Hana, Hana performs ballet, Maxwell challenges Drake to do spin kicks, Drake does some killer spin kicks, crediting self-defense with teaching him those moves. Penelope (and Kiara, very cautiously once she realizes Maxwell is volunteering to coach because she clearly wants all her bones intact by the end of the night) is so impressed she asks to be coached. Maxwell does the coaching.

• Olivia is not here, and Maxwell assumes she's gone to check out the hors d'ouvres. Hmm. Hmm.

• Cake cutting time! Now technically, if you didn't buy this option, it still happens - you just don't get to see what they're cutting. Choosing your cake allows you to see it and (more importantly in my opinion) gives you some lovely food descriptions. You also get gag options for cake cutting and for either feeding the cake to your spouse or smearing it all over their faces.

• If you're getting married to Liam and bought the gastrodiplomacy scene in Castelserraillian, you get an extra chocolate souffle. I wasn't sure they would remember this one post hiatus, but looks like they did. Now if only they'd remember Hana was an actual character deserving of a good arc with that much accuracy...

• If you bought the cake scene, you also get to surprise your spouse with an extra dessert. Liam is willing to share his baklava with you after being outed by his brother as being a Joey (I DON'T SHARE FOOD), Hana loves the hot chocolate and wants to refine her recipe based on it, Maxwell calls it the "second best cake" he's had (the first being their wedding cake). Drake's is the s'mores, but the playthrough I saw shows him enjoying the Cordonian Ruby pie (which honestly looks more like its been filled with berries than apples) and speaking of how nice it is to have one down-to-earth dessert. I'm guessing he must have either a similar reaction to the s'mores, or there's some reminiscing of the time he prepared it for her back in Book 2.

• The scene now shifts to BertVannah, who are having an argument. Savannah looks pissed off about Bertrand not calling and informing her about the attack in the boutique (gee, I wonder how that conversation would've gone. "Hey honey. At the brink of death here. Toodles!"). But her real ire is because she wants to take things to the next level but is getting mixed signals from Bertrand. She tells him she will probably be joining her mother in Texas instead. The timing of all this is supposed to be terrible, because Bertrand was planning to propose. With that ruby ring from LoveHacks.

• What ensues is a diamond scene to help Bertrand give Savannah her fairytale proposal, one last exercise in teaching Bertrand words and this couple to hold hands. Whether you choose it or not, Bertrand proposes, Savannah says yes and we find out her middle name is Jane.

• The diamond scene itself is quite sweet. It begins with Bertrand buttering up to Drake to get his approval, the highlight of which is him imitating a chicken to prove to Drake that he would do anything for Savannah. It then moves ahead to the Cordonian barbershop quartet (Liam, Drake, Maxwell, Bertrand) agreeing to get together after their last appearance in Book 2 to help him with the proposal, which will be sung to Savannah during the bridal bouquet toss.

• Somehow, no matter what, the TRR writing team have to remind us that they don't consider Hana a bride at her own wedding:

They somehow forget that Hana is a bride in this part of the Hana playthrough, have her round up the bridesmaids when that should be done by someone else (Madeleine or Kiara or literally any other woman), and make her stand in her fucking wedding gown in the line with the other bridesmaids. It's bad enough that she remains the "professional best friend" even after you're engaged, has to wear black at her own bachelorette and a glitch in the game during the ceremony directly affects her fans more than anyone else. Like if I were Hana I would circle the photo album of this day and mark it WORST WEDDING EVER. Yes. In red 😠

The MC is really out there treating her bride like a wedding planner on their wedding day. So much for making this wedding Hana's dream wedding, MC. Such love much wow.

• Proposal done, it's now time to give the LIs their gifts. Very nice, very emotional, they all love what you got them and they're all adorable.

You get the usual with the remaining LIs, and some extra kissing with your spouses. Overall, quite nice.

That's a lie Hana and you know it.

• So Olivia is completely MIA post the toast, Gladys is walking around looking poker faced, Bastien is taking Mara's place while (I'm guessing) she recovers...and Madeleine is still being a colossal cockblocker/clam jam.

• You get a few last minute conversations with Kiara and Penelope, including a default acknowledgement of how much Kiara sacrificed to be here and how tough it was for her (nice try, PB, but I'm not forgiving you for Lythikos).

•

We get a lovely call-back to the first chapter of Book 1, by having Not Henney be part of our wedding.

• Regina then comes up to talk to you, admitting that she was wrong in thinking that the MC would be "dangerous for Cordonia", and is now happy you're here.

• Gladys then comes and asks us to accompany her because someone is "impatient" to be with us.

• Uh huh, uh huh, I thought. Time for a diamond sex scene?

• But nope. It's free. (Waiiiiitaminute. Something is not quite right about this. We can't be boinking with our fiancé/es for free. What's going on!)

• ...oh. OH.

• Shame on you Gladys!

• When I asked you to call me Lamb Shawarma I didn't mean for you to turn me into one!

General Thoughts:

• If you're marrying Hana, Drake or Maxwell, they are lured into the maze first, and used as bait to catch hold of the MC. If you're marrying Liam, however, you're the bait.

• Prior to this, Olivia is missing as well, possibly for Anton to establish his "rightful" claim over his wife (good luck with that, buddy. I'd love for this to end with one of her knives on your throat) in the next chapter.

• Which is probably why Liam having feelings for the MC keeps coming up so much in the final few chapters. It propells him into anger either way, and seeing Olivia in a danger as well allows Liam to finally wake up to his possible feelings for her in the other playthroughs (I hope?)

• I think there will be a duel. I think it will be a parallel to the Costume Gala duel between Drake and Neville, except here the stakes are much much higher. Which is why Neville is shown in the chapter, after a long time of not being shown at all even though it's clear he's still part of the tour. He's probably there as a way to foreshadow what is to come. Also, it works as a bit of an inverse.

In the Costume Gala duel, Drake was clearly the underdog, and Neville clearly the noble who needed to be taught a lesson. Drake has spoken about agreeing to the duel to prove that as a commoner he has his worth and dignity, and it doesn't need to be trampled on.

In this duel, Anton appears to be the underdog fighting valiantly against the king of a "tyrannical" dynasty, and this is a rhetoric that at least some people take seriously, as we saw in the riot in Chapter 17, and in a little of what Gladys says before the betrayal.

But here...the tables are turned. Anton is the power-hungry candidate for the throne who is willing to destroy the livelihood of Cordonia's farmers and throw the economy of the country into shambles (ironically, since his father was part of the Sons of Earth), to get access to the throne. Liam has been established over and over as someone who genuinely cares for his people and wants them to prosper with him, not have himself prosper at their expense. So in this case, the non-noble here is established as the one who would be absolutely wrong for the country, and Liam as the monarch Cordonia needs and deserves.

• I wonder how much of this chapter will the actual duel take. I'm guessing half of it, with the LI, Liam, Olivia and the MC then going through the aftermath, and then eventually moving into the Coronation/honouring ceremony of the finale in another chapter.

• There will (hopefully) be some focus on Liam's emotional state? That man has been through way too much shit minus any space to actually talk about what he's been through. It's high time he gets his space to really open up about his trauma and actually get to heal, because this book has been keeping his state of mind in limbo for way longer than it should. It's been poorly worked on and poorly built, his overall crisis arc, but I'm hoping this coming chapter will make up for that.

• I deserve TWO sex scenes for the kind of crap I have to put up with at my own fucking wedding. An attack the day before! An attack before I dress! An attack at my reception! What BRIDE goes through this shit!

I'd better get great lingerie and explosive sex for the kind of stress getting married in Cordonia takes out of me.

• So technically Gladys is supposed to be our surprise element this chapter, and I guess it makes sense, since she is a recently introduced character and you can push her forward as shady without making it very obvious because she only enters the story when the book is close to being done.

• One thing I did find interesting is that if you choose to thank her while she leads you to the hedge maze, she looks sad and speaks of how "the nobles are usually too busy thinking of themselves on a night like tonight", leading the MC to feel sorry she's had such a bad experience. Which kinda gives us a hint why she might be in cahoots with Anton in the first place. Anton is not a nobleman (though he is married into a noble family), and seems to be preying on commoner emotions to get support for overthrowing Liam's government. I'm sorry Gladys, but I think you've been fooled.

• That's it for this chapter, guys. On to Chapter 21!

[sagastar-blog]

MemoToTheMetaverse 2.4 “Gaia Says to Jeff, Let’s Take the Black Keys Car Service!”

Gaia, our hero, the story’s 16-year-old tomboyish female protagonist, walks around in a magnificent green, blue, and white bathrobe. Her long darkreddishbrown hair is dripping wet. Gaia is the planet Earth in human form, and has always been entirely awake, or aware of this fact. She’s recently emerged from the family “scuttlebutt,” a solar-powered steam room of sorts off the side of the family’s entirely ordinary first-floor Highland Park, NJ, apartment. She speaks into a hairbrush: 

Gaia: So glad to be here with Dan and Patrick of the Black Keys. Guys! Good morning! What brought you to The Orchard on this leg of the current intergalactic tour?

[Dan Auerbach--the lily-white reformed stoner father / lead singer of the indie blues rock duo from Akron known throughout the universe and beyond as The Black Keys--is a large Bert from Sesame Street doll.] 

Dan: Ummmmm. Gee. Let’s see. Well, I guess we figured we were in the neighborhood, you know, New York is kind of a thing...Hey, um, Do you guys have any coffee here? I could also really use a bagel. Like, with cream cheese, yeah? Thanks. Okay, yeah.

Patrick, a narwhal hand puppet and the drummer in the band, wears hipster glasses and grunts somewhat rhythmically: Me too. Please. Thanks. Whatever.

Gaia (turns towards the kitchen and yells): Daddy! Do we have any bagels left?

[Jeff is Gaia’s 39-year-old father, who has sole custody but, as any parent must no, very little immediate control over his daughter. He’s actually a young Bengal tiger in disguise as a human and also the Master Creator/Destroyer of All.

Jeff: Yeah, hold on. Do they want everything like usual?

Patrick the narwhal begins gnawing on the top of Bert’s head while gently spanking it from below with its tail, and grunts: “Sure thing, boss.”

Dan is distracted by Gaia’s proverbial “décolletage.” It must be said that Gaia is a beautiful, buxom, and rather rambunctious young woman, and has been for a few years now something of a man-eater. More problematically, she’s been neglected by her boyfriend/cousin-in-law, Amateratsu, the local mediocre neighborhood son, thanks to the way she’s been done dirty and wrong by life--HER LIFE, yes, but still--in recent times.

Dan: Thanks so much Jeff, that’s great. Gaia’s taking good care of us in here.

Jeff: She’s a fantastic hostess. You should check out her bedroom! It’s kind of a mess...Gaia, do you think you could maybe try sweeping some day? 

Gaia (returning to her interview): Dan, Patrick, do you ever wish a great wind would come along and wash away all the beer cans and bottles? I mean, like, take Akron....maybe all the rubber tires and factories and stuff should be...

Dan: Burned?

Patrick the narwhal has heard this story so many times already. He continues drumming on his lap, staring rather obtusely at Gaia’s round ass as she busily picks up last night’s detritus. He doesn’t mind getting interviewed today because he owes his ex-wife so much in arrears for child support that he’s willing to put up with Bert’s narcissism for yet another day.

Gaia: I was thinking, wouldn’t it be nice if Brian Wilson and the rest of the Beach Boys could just bury the hatchet and do, like, a benefit for the environment or something? Like, what is it going to take for some big shot celebrity musicians to actually get involved in American public life?

Dan: What we need, clearly, is the American version of Bono. Otherwise, Africa will become China and then we’re all fucked.

Gaia: Precisely. (prepares her hookah for the day’s first toke....Jeff doesn’t mind that Gaia is going through a phase in which she smokes as much cannabis as she wants when she’s at his house. She’s not always home from school, so he figures it’s a balanced approach to Creation/Destruction.)

Patrick: Do you think we could hit that?

Gaia (eyes smoldering): Butt of course, Monsieur Patrick. Et toi, Dan? Qu’en volez vous?

Dan: Did you just ask me where I’m flying next? 

Gaia: EH bien. Si vous voulez faire le countertransference avec moi, ca va couterez...(she lights up)

Jeff (buttering and cream-cheesing the bagels): Gaia, I’m serious! Your room!

Gaia (tucking her Bert and narwhal weiweis into her bed): I suggest we take the Black Keys Car Service to the eco preserve.

Jeff: Gaia, can you please explain to our guests what that will entail?

[Pollux and Castor emerge from the basement, all sparkly. They’re stars from an intergalactic talent competition known as Copernamici. As the head stars in the constellation Gemini, they are Amateratsu’s siblings, relatives of Jeff and Lucius. Pollux is slightly brighter and cheerier in general, whereas Castor has a beautiful, rich baritone voice.]

Castor: I was hoping we’d get to go to the preserve. There’s so little nature here in The Orchard, which is kind of ironic, don’t you think?

Pollux: Yeah, I was just thinking that it’s weird that there are signs all around this town, what is it called here Highland Park, that say things like “Tree City U.S.A.” and “No Hate Here.” They can’t even see us when they look up at night! Where exactly is the eco preserve, Gaia?

Gaia: Sore subject. Which is why I suggest taking the Black Keys Car Service! Daddy, you explain in a longwinded monologue which is not exactly a siloloquy but who cares because Shakespeare was SUCH a bitch...

Jeff (sets down the coffee at the C2 Center for Educational Brainwashing, where he is paid 27 dollars an hour to help privileged children improve their SAT scores): THE BLACK KEYS CAR SERVICE is one of the greatest ideas ever. It is the solution to the problem we face today aboard Spaceship Earth. (speaking into the ship’s PA system microphone) Humans! You have, since the dawn of the industrial revolution, been shitting in your own scuttlebutt! You have been, like cyborgswine, befouling your own trough. Your pollution--Ohio, we’re looking right at you...OH GEEZ, Cuyahoga was a great R.E.M. song about you burning rivers...where are you Michael Stipe when the galaxy needs you?--will no longer be tolerated. I have come here, people of Earth, to save Gaia. Only, the way it works is that Gaia doesn’t need salvation. Gaia, your planet Earth, will outlive all of you. Life will persist on this planet whether you want it to or not...at least for a little longer. The point here is that I am here to protect Gaia from all of you who have been either neglecting and violating her. (Hugs his daughter tightly.) The latter is worse than the former, but there are no innocent people in this world of ours, right Gaia?

Gaia (not a victim..a survivor): Correct.

Jeff (continues): Now. You, humans, will end this farce of an existence. You have serious environmental problems which you are not capable of fixing by yourselves. The first step in solving a problem is admitting that you have a problem. The Black Keys Car Service is the best way for you to admit you have a problem.

Jeff and Gaia step out to their electric car.

We’re not suggesting that you need to trash your entire civilization. No. That’d be impractical. You need to recycle it. You need to throw away a lot of stuff that’s bad. 

Amateratsu (offstage): I SUGGEST FEEDING ME!

Jeff: Let’s shoot a bunch of shit into the sun, like old junk that’s bad for Gaia. Let’s figure out a way to use nuclear and other technologies sustainably and responsibly. There are no such thing as “bad nukes,” just as there are no such things as “bad phones.” You have technology and you need to learn how to use it wisely. I say I’m wisdom unemployed. I don’t need to spend my time pretending to teach here at the C2 Center for Educational Polyamorous Cockblocking and Blueballing. It’s not very fun, rewarding, or productive for me. (Imagine that, John Lenin!) 

It’s not easy for you to accept that you’re a computer virus and that your existence is a threat to lots (not ALL) other life here on Earth. I get that! We have a suggestion...

Gaia (grabs the mic and screams as loudly as possible): Just send an ordinary unmarked car to Jeff’s house at 35 S. Fifth Avenue in Highland Park, NJ, 08904, U.S.A, Earth, Dimension 1(?)=1 / infinity. (Everyone knows my real address is one over infinity!) But make sure it’s like really smooth and cool...you know, like it should be the kind of car service that Dan and Patrick would use and then try to cash in on by selling out...like El Camino.   

But it can’t be an El Camino. It should be like a 2002 Ford or something. Not eco-friendly! It needs to be authentic and real, like Akron but WORSE. If I’m being violated, at least let Jeff on the Lester GangBangBus. You know what I mean? SO the one thing about The Black Keys Car Service is that it’s got to be both legitimate and correct. There will be no “Black Keys” cds or music or anything directly related to the Black Keys in the car, obviously. The music should be a delightful mixture of T. Bone Burnett classics, which is to say stuff that would sell at Starbucks and not offend Jeff. This is how Jeff learns! By doing human anthropology. We don’t hate your culture. We just have taste and need a little bit of respect, so like, no music referencing “niggers,” “bitches,” and other unsavory aspects of your filthy human world. I’m sorry, but there’s a difference between you listening to what you like in public and you exposing me and my Daddy and my friends  to your pollution. We need to be protected, like in an eco preserve! 

Jeff: What Gaia is trying to say is that I don’t ask for much. You’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. That’s fine by me. I’m used to it. But now that you’ve been caught, you have to admit it. You have to admit what you’ve done and you have to do it soon by sending The Black Keys Car Service, which is recognizing me as someone valuable and worthy of dignity and respect, as well as adoration, of course. 

Send me a private car with a driver--let him be exactly like the dude who plays bass and also keyboards for the Shins, if not that guy himself!--who recognizes me as JustJeff and takes me where I want to go. For free (i.e. without charging me money or making me feel awkward). You know who I am, so stop pretending! Allow the driver to speak to me like a normal person. It will be great! And please let there be bagels with cream cheese and coffee in the car. Other than that, there’s nothing else for me to request. If you do that, i’ll know that we’re going somewhere together. 

If I’m going to save you, Gaia, it’s going to be on my terms, not theirs. We have a lot of work to do and must take practical steps. The Black Keys Car Service is the best way to get moving in the right direction.

Gaia (fidgeting with her phone): OMJ, I hate this phone! (throws it out the window and turns up the music, which I believe is some Dusty Springfield song, but we can’t be sure...) 

[annashipper]

V For Vendetta Submission - In Response...

Anna:  First of all, apologies to everyone for this submission getting rather long, but V For Vendetta, as you’ve gone for the point by point route, I’ve decided to make it a little easier for everyone reading this blog to follow the post and answering you point for point within the submit itself, instead of at the end like normal.

I’ve also marked what you say versus what @captainjcat had to say and what I have to say clearly, in order to make everything just a bit easier on the eyes.

With regards to my being “fair minded”, I’m always up for a civil discussion, so you may feel free to send me similar submissions in the future.  All I ask is that you don’t make them this lengthy next time cause it only makes harder for people following my blog to go through their dashboards.  Sorry this took so long to post, but as you can imagine it took me at least an hour to write this small novel of a reply to you  :o)

~*~*~

V For Vendetta:  Happy belated birthday Anna! I found this submission from CaptainJCat on your site and I thought I would respond to it point by point. I would have sent this directly to CaptainJCat but that site does not allow submissions. (I know you don’t agree with my viewpoint, but I figure what do I have to lose, and if you do have the courage to post something that is contrary to your ideas well then, that’s one for “fair mindedness” coming from your side) -

(Just as a note of clarification – CaptainJCat’s parts are in quotation marks and mine are identified with the double asterisks before and after.)

CaptainJCat’s Submission (with annotations in response from yours truly. :-))

@captainjcat:  “That two months between TCIT and the start of Melrose he might take sometime off, but I doubt it since he’s a producer on this project as well as acting in it. There are things he’s going need to do before it starts production that he normally wouldn’t have to do it, if it he was only acting in it and he just had to prepare for a part. ”

V For Vendetta:  **All of the things he has to do as a producer wouldn’t take away from family time more in likely. It isn’t as if he has to be on set for night shoots - it is more office hours work. And he isn’t the only producer of this production. It gives him creative control but it isn’t as if he is the director doing a lot of pre and post production work in the studio. Do a bit of research before you start assuming you know about TV/movie productions.**

Anna:  I don’t necessarily disagree with you V For Vendetta, but you have to acknowledge that putting on the producer’s hat certainly gives him more work instead of taking things out of his plate and giving him more time to “nest”.  A wish (an imaginary one as far as I’m concerned which he just thinks sounds nice) that he’s alluded to in the past numerous times.

@captainjcat:  “Re: how Sophie could hurt his career. Her behavior has/can do a lot of damage showing up on a set with your own pap team, trying to worm your way into parts, embarrassing your spouse every time you’re in public, leaking stories that make him look bad and taking the focus off him and what he’s promoting to try make yourself the center of attention. Word gets around very quickly when that kind of stuff goes on and the fact he didn’t stop it, went along with some of it, if you were in charge of a movie or project that cost millions to make would you take a chance on someone like that, no matter how talented.”

V For Vendetta:  **Where is there one verifiable fact that Sophie has ever showed “up on set” with her “own pap team”??!?!? Not just you projecting your own bias on events - but real, verifiable evidence that she has her own pap team??? You won’t find it because it just isn’t there.

Anna:  Of course there isn’t verifiable evidence that Weirdo brought the paps to the NYC shoot.  She just showed up when the paps were there taking photographs (I’m guessing called in by Marvel) and then smiled very broadly while he hung his head in shame like a whipped puppy:

After Ben was done filming for the day, Ben, Weirdo and Rent-A-Pilo took a pap walk with a paid-for pap agency and she smiled quite happily for the paps while Ben looked dismal.  Since you believe Pilo is a real baby, I’m very curious to hear what you think of a mother who would happily let her baby be photographed by paparazzo in NYC while her family is being stalked by one of her husband’s fans, and smiling while doing it:

By the way, the unblurred pics of Rent-A-Pilo’s face were up for sale on the pap site for the whole world to peruse with no kill order from the Dismals from April when they were taken until after the Doctor Strange premiere. 

V For Vendetta:  Just like there is absolutely NO verifiable evidence that she has EVER tried to “worm” her “way into parts”. In fact, in one of the rare interviews that she has given since Ben and her were married she was quoted as saying she isn’t looking particularly towards working with him at the moment and just wants to concentrate on their marriage. She didn’t seem to rule it out entirely (it sounded like that they might want to do things in the future together) but for now at least she hasn’t got anything like that planned.

Anna:  One thing I can absolutely agree with you on Weirdo is that she doesn’t seem to be in a rush to work on anything.  She wasn’t in a rush to work on anything before she ended up walking red carpets with Ben and faking pregnancies, she seemed to get interested in doing some work right after Pilo’s “birth” (putting in the minimal amount of work as demonstrated through pictorial evidence:

and by the fact that she couldn’t be bothered to doing proper research to write an article for The Guardian, plagiarizing the work of Dr Moorjani instead.

V For Vendetta:  As for embarrassing him in public? Like when? Give me a concrete example of her actually doing something that has been noticed in the mainstream press (just not said to be embarrassing by other “skeptics”) as being embarrassing to Ben? Again you can’t because it never happened. She is very quiet on the red carpet - staying in the background. She doesn’t have a social media presence and has only been quote in two interviews since they got married.

Anna:  Oh, but I can.  

If you don’t think the camera catching her chastising him during the BAFTAs is embarrassing, I’m sorry V, but we don’t have the same understanding of the word “embarrassing”.

As for her being quoted, I’m very happy that Ben and his team have done something smart and haven’t allowed her to speak to any cameras.  Then we’d have a whole other level of “embarrassing” in our hands…

V For Vendetta:  Even the infamous (by the skeptics) incident at the Evening Standard awards where she supposedly “stomped” off - I couldn’t find anyone to mention the moment in any mainstream media. So just how did this embarrass him?? Answer: it didn’t. He was seen smiling, holding her hand, and she was seen clapping and enjoying his presence later on. No “embarrassment. No shame. Just again confirmational bias on the part of the “skeptics” and nothing more.

Anna:  Again V, we have different definitions for the word “embarrassing”.

V For Vendetta:  Leaking stories - again absolutely not one shred of real evidence that SH is/was doing anything of the sort. Give me actual PROOF that she did this or move on.

Anna:  Personally, I’m on the fence about Weirdo being the one to leak stories to the tabloids.  However, I have to tell you that I also don’t have actual tangible proof that Trump is a megalomaniac with autocratic tendencies.  I just know it’s true.

V For Vendetta:  Trying to make herself the centre of attention during promotional events - again, when did this happen? 

Anna:  Allow me to jumpstart your memory:

V For Vendetta:  I want some actual PROOF that she did this. Like I said before she is very quiet at events, 

Anna:  Yes?

V For Vendetta:  stays in the background 

Anna:  Yes?

V For Vendetta:  and just mainly walks beside him on red carpet events. 

Anna:  Yes?

V For Vendetta:  In fact, I do see a lot of skeptics complain that it seems like she isn’t “allowed” to talk at events precisely because she hasn’t said very much! 

Anna:  That is true.  Who can forget how Ben cockblocked his fiance…. errrrrrr sorry…. wife at the Oscars:

V For Vendetta:  You can’t have it both ways and say that she is trying to be the centre of attention and do things that embarrass Ben and then carp about the fact that she never says or does anything. 

Anna:  She does do something V.  She shoots daggers at him with her eyes:

V For Vendetta:  It just doesn’t make any sense to take both of those “lanes”… or it makes it seem like you just are crapping all over her just because she is actually alive and not because of anything she has done. Interesting…

Anna:  What is interesting to me V is the fact that you felt the need to veer from your own lane and send me a quite lengthy submission about all of the things that you think are NOT wrong with Weirdo.  Which probably means that you’ve noticed the same things we’ve noticed (if not more) and you felt the need to defend Weirdo’s honour.  Normally people don’t feel the need to defend the honour of immaculate people they don’t know to crazy strangers over the internet.

V For Vendetta:  And finally I do agree with you that “word gets around very quickly” and that is precisely why Ben is in such demand and has such a busy schedule. He is known for being a stable, hard-working individual who put everything he has into roles. 

Anna:  100% agreed. 

V For Vendetta:  He isn’t “tabloid fodder” at all really - he has a stable relationship with his wife, a family now and is well-liked by all his colleagues.

Anna:  100% disagreed. 

For a guy who was perfectly capable of keeping his private life private before Weirdo was hired to play the part of his red carpet girlfriend for the 2015 awards season, we know a bit too much about the wedding dress Weirdo wanted to wear (something that she helped create) versus the wedding dress she actually wore (a season old, off the rack dress), the invitations to their wedding, what was served at the wedding, what was read at the wedding, the guests that were at the wedding, how they first met (such a romantic loo meeting), the house he bought, how and when he asked for her hand in marriage from her family, the fact that she didn’t really like find him attractive before they became an item (I guess she was able to see past his lizard alien face once she was hired), the fact that her brother doesn’t think Tiffany rings (like the one Ben bought for her) aren’t special enough, the fact that Weirdo took a holiday immediately after giving “birth” to Pilo with her girlfriends (presumably leaving Ben to breastfeed Pilo in her absense while rehearsing for Hamlet and buffing up for Doctor Strange), where and how they spent their honeymoon, etc.

Interestingly enough, considering how private Ben and Weirdo haven’t been since they got together to push for his Oscar nomination for 2014, there are no verified stories (and by that I mean any regular folk seeing them on the street or the zoo or at the park) of Ben, Weirdo and Pilo spending a day out and about London (or even Edinburgh) as a family.  The only (unverrified) stories we’ve gotten are from stalkerina Nans on Twitter.

V For Vendetta:  Only the skeptics seem to think lowly of him (accusing him of going along with fraud, of being involved with drugs, with being involved with shady business deals, of sleeping around, of hiding deep secrets that would open himself up to blackmail, of agreeing to fake his child’s existence, of lying publicly about his marriage and family - the list just goes on and on). No one else thinks this low of the man. Just the skeptics. Interesting… **

Anna:  What is actually very interesting is that you’re generalizing and you’ve chosen the wrong Skeptic to send this submission to when it comes to that.  Out of that long list, I personally only think he’s lying about his imaginary family life (including his imaginary son) and have made it absolutely clear time and again.  As for the rest, are you counting Anonymous Submitters (such as yourself) among the Skeptics?  Because, personally, I don’t even count some of the “skeptics” among the actual Skeptics.

~*~

Anna:  This is the second part of V For Vendetta’s submission where she’s taking apart my answer to @captainjcat, so I’m putting little asterisks between each point  V For Vendetta is making in order to make it easier on anyone reading this.

~*~

Anna:  “Interestingly enough, Weirdo’s only shown up on two sets. One was the 15 minute set visit to the TAB set for Sherlock at the beginning of the showmance, and the other one was on the set of Doctor Strange. In NYC. When they made sure to book a pap walk with a rented baby later in the day. ”

V For Vendetta:  **Again, this just isn’t true. First even if she had “shown up on two sets” - that doesn’t mean those are the only two - just that those were the only two that you know of. But even that is wrong. We have evidence that besides the appearance in NYC and the one that was photographed on the TAB set. Amanda A. stated clearly in a tweet that it was completely untrue that Sophie had been banned from the set (when a fellow skeptic harassed her on twitter). This was during the Season 4 shoot and she said that SH had been on set “just the other day”. And please provide PROOF that their child was “rented” - receipts please of the “rental agreement”. **

Anna:  I don’t remember those tweets V.  Either from or to Amanda.  If you’ve got screencaps, please send them in and we can keep discussing this.

*

Anna:  “After the first pap walk with the pram failed to be picked up by any publication. But Weirdo and rented Pilo did not travel with him to NYC and they never made it back to England with him. Because… multiple reasons that I don’t need to list at the moment.”

V for Vendetta:  **But you most certainly DO have to list them! Because I challenge you to prove that she never went back to England. They were seen together after that in England and in an interview (the Vanity Fair interview) it was mentioned that after DS work was completed he and Sophie were going on vacation with Kit to Italy. So it seems they do travel together. Or are you going to claim that the reporter was part of this world wide conspiracy by the all powerful Sophie Hunter to make the rest of the world believe that her and Ben are married and have a child? That’s just silly - you do know that, right?**

Anna:  I thought “passport control” and travelling with a baby that’s supposed to be Benedict Cumberbatch’s son which Ben wouldnt’ be able to calm down during a flight was easy enough to surmise yourself V.  Sorry for assuming.

Meanwhile, I wasn’t talking about whether or not Weirdo ever made it back to England or not.  I was talking about travelling together from London to NYC and from NYC back to London.  Ben made absolutely sure we knew he travelled back and forth alone.  The same way he made absolutely sure we knew he was travelling alone back to London from his LA trip in August.

*

Anna:  “Back to the Sherlock visit, Enty made sure we found out how that turned out and in an unsurprising turn of events, Weirdo never ever ever made it to a Sherlock event again. Not even as a paying customer at Sherlocked… ”

V For Vendetta:  **So what? SH hasn’t been to a Sherlocked event! Neither has Martin Freeman. What are you going to make of that!?!?! And as for “Enty” - again please provide PROOF that any of what that “person” said was true - when AA said it wasn’t. Hmm, who would know better?? AA or this “Enty” character”? Interesting indeed… **

Anna:  V, try to read what I’m saying before you take the irony out of my comment and pummeling it to death.

What I said was:   Back to the Sherlock visit, Enty made sure we found out how that turned out and in an unsurprising turn of events, Weirdo never ever ever made it to a Sherlock event again.

This part was the irony:   Not even as a paying customer at Sherlocked…

I want you to focus.  Really really really really REALLY hard and let me know:  When was the last time you saw Weirdo at any event that had to do with Sherlock.  Including screenings, conventions, red carpets, award ceremonies.

*

Anna:  “Meanwhile, The Current War was filming in the UK. And filming has wrapped up without a single set visit from Weirdo. ”

V For Vendetta:  **Again - that you know of.  Please remember that the info about Ben’s skyping with Sophie and Kit during the making of DS never came to light until well after the fact (when MM told an international audience about it - there is video proof of his talking about it). So maybe we will hear during the publicity phase of TCW of more set visits from his family. You aren’t a “in the know” source so don’t pretend you are.**

Anna:  V, if you’d bothered reading my blog for more than 2 days before deciding to send me a submission, you’d be aware of the fact that not only do I not pretend to have sources, I also do not trust anyone’s sources.  Not because I don’t trust the people who have sources.  Because I do not trust trolls that might be posing as sources.  It’s been discussed ad infinitum in the past.

As for the Skype calls, Mads never mentioned Weirdo.  Just Pilo.  And it was 2 hours of skyping between an actor playing the lead in a super hero movie having his make up applied for the day and a (then) 5 month old baby.  Do you see the logical fallacy there or do I need to draw you a picture?

*

Anna:  “Or Pilo. It’s nice to think that Ben has learned his lesson and he knows how silly he looked that day when Weirdo visited the DS set.”

V For Vendetta:  **Nice going - dissing a small child! 

Anna:  I’m not dissing a small child.  I’m shaking my proverbial head at a 40 year old man that’s stooped to lying about an imaginary child.

V For Vendetta:  And how do you know how Ben feels about his son or wife. 

Anna:  I have eyes.  To the left you see Ben holding Weirdo’s hand.  To the right you see Ben before Weirdo appeared on the set of Doctor Strange.

V For Vendetta:  All I have ever heard him say is things like Sophie is brilliant, Sophie is a “super hero” and that he loves and misses her (I saw him actually signing that one a fan’s poster on video - now that’s proof!). I have read a direct quote from Tilda Swinton when she said that her impression of Ben was “a new husband besotted by his girl, and a new father enchanted by his boy.” You know the interview - it was the one where BC was quoted as saying that people who thought his wife and child were PR were “delusional”, “scary” and evidence of “obsessive” behaviour. Of course you folks think he is a liar and a fraud when he says thing like that - but then, you would, wouldn’t you.**

Anna:  What can I say V.  Nothing screams desperation to me more than Ben going on record on Vanity Fair saying “There are people who believe that my wife is a P.R. stunt and my child is a P.R. stunt.”  

Like I mentioned to you earlier, normally people don’t feel the need to defend the truth or their honour to crazy strangers who discuss their crazy theories over the internet.

*

Anna:  “It’s even nicer to think that Ben knew Weirdo visiting the set sans Pilo would make us raise our eyebrows to high heaven and that’s why they never went for it.”

V For Vendetta:  **Or, once again, you will be eating your words when it is revealed that she and Kitt did indeed visit Ben when he was making TCW.**

Anna:  Or, once again, I will be laughing my head off at Weirdo’s attempts to pass off a bad prosthetic as a real pregnancy.  

Pleeeeeeease someone provide video of a TCW set visit!!

*

Anna:  “Either way, I find it very very very very VERY interesting that the two times we saw Pilo were in NYC. ”

V For Vendetta:  **Wrong! The pictures of Kit that I have seen are as follows - the pap ones when Ben and Sophie were walking down a street in London near their home at the time, the pap pictures in NYC when Ben was filming scenes for DS, another set of pap pix in the airport (which had Kit’s face blurred) when Ben had to do DS promo work and go on SNL (you know the same time that he said in an interview when talking about Sophie and Kit “It’s a joyous thing. I’m very happy to have them in my life, very lucky as well”) and the final one which wasn’t a pap picture at all - one at the Hay Festival (which is NOT in NYC BTW). **

Anna:  Ah yes!  The so private, much calling the paps couple.  Let us discuss that for a second.

First pram pap walk with Pilo was done in a residential area.  A place where it’s impossible to raise one’s iPhone and snap a picture of a stranger walking down the street without them noticing, but Ben (who is soooo good at spotting sneaky fans when they’re snapping pictures of him on the tube) didn’t think twice before taking out Pilo from his pram and letting him be photographed for the Fail.

Second pap walk with Pilo was done at the IOW.  During Pilo’s christening.  With Weirdo holding something that I really really hope wasn’t a real baby precariously, while the attentive father was walking 10 paces in front of her, talking to the guests.  But yes.  The paps were so determined to get pictures to Pilo’s christening, they camped outside the church for weeks upon weeks upon weeks.  Because… you know… money shots.

You’ve actually missed the third pap walk which was the test drive that only made it to skeptical blogs through pap sites and anonymous sources that pointed us in that direction, where all we could of Pilo was a yellow sock.  While Weirdo smiled straight to the camera of course:

Fourth pap walk was (as discussed earlier) quite clearly pre-arranged.

Fifth pap walk at Hay which as you mentioned wasn’t a pap walk at all was the blurry pic where we really can’t make out Ben’s or Weirdo’s face (much less Pilo’s) with the gigantic baby that had nothing to do with the…

Sixth pap walk which was lovely and gave us another shot of Weirdo smiling straight at the camera again (on US soil where Pilo’s face would have normally been unblurred, but most probably they weren’t able to rent the same Pilo, so no unblurred pics ever made it to our screens):

*

Anna:  “The second time they must have had trouble renting the same Pilo, because we never got to see the boy’s face unblurred. ”

V For Vendetta:  **Gosh, and here’s me thinking that the reason it was blurry was because it wasn’t taken by a pap - it was taken by person who attended the Hay Festival and snapped it from a distance. ** 

Anna:  I am talking about the pic I just posted of Ben looking pissed off, Weirdo looking happy as punch to be photographed and Pilo’s face is blurry.  Again.  On US soil where pics of baby’s faces are not blurred unless the parents take legal measures.

* Anna:  “Regardless, I don’t expect Weirdo to show up at the Infinity Wars set either. ”

V For Vendetta:  **Well, we’ll just see - considering your track record for not being correct about these sort of things, I’m laying bets that you are wrong again!**

Anna:  I really don’t know why you feel this overwhelming need to antagonise Skeptics and point out how wrong we are V.  If we are so wrong, why are you arguing with us?

*

Anna:  “The one main reason being that RDJ doesn’t play when it comes to calling out his buddies on their fuckery via twitter. I’m sure Hiddles’ name is still reeling from that. ”

V For Vendetta:  **So when RDJ starts telling stories about how excited BC was about becoming a father again, will you still think he is so all-fired honest? Or will he join Mads M, T. Swinton, S. Derkison, M. Gatiss, Amanda A., Sue Virtue, Louise B., and countless others who have talked about the sweetness of BC and his being a father and husband, as being part of the “fuckery” and “in” on the big conspiracy that only the “skeptics” can see? I’m laying bets that when he does (and he will) the skeptics will suddenly be 1) disenchanted with RDJ all of a sudden, or 2) will be scratching their collective heads, once again, wondering WHY in the world would RDJ say such a thing!!!!!

Anna:  Oh V.  Ben, an actor, acting excited is not the same thing as actually being excited.  But yeah, if Robert Downey Jr starts telling stories about Ben skyping with a 5 month old for 2 hours straight while on the set of Infinity Wars, I’ll start worrying about his sanity.  

*

V For Vendetta:  Stay “frosty” and keep an eye out for future “fuckery”!!! LOL!

Toodles! **

Anna:  I only wish you could stay as frosty as I am V.  

Happy trails and thanks for the birthday wishes!  :D