#i'll have to change the tag and that's the most annoying part

[greatprotector-if]

i've kinda just put it on the backburner for however long since i realized but it would probably. probably be a good idea for me to change valen's name because it's so similar to galen's visually? uhhhhhhh. i feel like it would he confusing in game. uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

will get back to you guys on that <3

[icharchivist]

i have my grips with the anime but there’s really some scenes it completely nailed (like Itaru’s gamer reveal), and when i reach those specific scene in the VN i really can’t stop thinking about just how good the anime was for those scenes in particular.

Case in point right now: the moment they’re trying to give out flyers for RomeJuli in the street and no one is stopping, so Masumi ends up, unprompted, to act out one of the scene as to bring attention to it.

i’ve rewatched the anime so many times it actually surprised me how abrupt the transition from Flyers to “Masumi is acting” is, it’s nice but, man. 

The fact the anime really shows when it clicks for Masumi that it would work, then having him, in silence, give his flyers away so he can then focus on acting, and seeing Izumi and Sakuya look at him, perplexed, before he starts acting and they catch on on what he’s doing, makes it flow so much better

A3 is a VN that really utilize the VN format extremely well, so it’s not especially a tackle on the VN itself, and there’s really a few things i think the anime did considerably worse, but this scene? kind of justify the anime’s existence for a bit because just remembering it gives me chill. 

[chevroletdean]

nsft alphabet [dean winchester] ── ✮⋆˙

genre: smut, explicit ─ minors dni! a/n: writing headcanons was easier than a kinktober one shot, oops. enjoy, i'll try to follow up with a sam version soon. and possibly other characters? (i'm feeling like writing one for alec mcdowell tbh) feel free to request any in my inbox! credit & links: alphabet ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here taglist: comment a green heart 💚 to be added to the dean x reader taglist (please note: ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts) @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It honestly depends on where you guys are, but generally speaking, he always makes sure you’re okay. If there’s anything you need, he’ll tend to it – which can range from a clean towel to a gentle forehead kiss. Even if you’re technically on the run or have somewhere urgent to be, he at least makes sure you’re both good to go.

Preferably he likes to take his time with you though. The aftermath of sex is one of the rarer opportunities for Dean to be openly sappy and vulnerable. Even with hookups, to some degree at least, the warmth of a lover’s arms is one of the places he can fully relax and he wants them to feel just as comfortable.

That said, he can be a little lazy. He makes sure the necessities of aftercare are fulfilled, always, but don’t always expect a luxurious bubble bath and immediately changing the sheets. Oftentimes he just wants to collapse onto bed with you and catch his breath.

He’s 50% giddy and proud smile – all cocky grins and smug bragging – and 50% sleepy. Your embrace is the closest he can get to experiencing heaven, he’s sure and getting to rest his head against your chest is the best feeling on earth. The sound of your steady heartbeat will definitely lull him to sleep and he’s insistent on cuddling the whole night through.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He has a love-hate relationship with his face. People keep telling him he’s handsome and even call him a pretty boy and sometimes he can’t see what they see. Most of the times his face card is a useful tool when it comes to investigation and working his charms. Other times he can’t stand looking at his own reflection. But when you compliment him on his freckled nose, his green eyes and long lashes, he definitely takes pride in it.

This particularly applies to his lips. He knows you love how pink and plump they are. And how pretty you think that smile of his is. It gets him anywhere he wants. Plus, the things he can do to you with that mouth, speaking sweet nothings, kissing you all over… what’s not to take pride in?

As for you, he’s a simple man, sometimes bordering on caveman – he’s obsessed with your butt and not shy to let you know. Whenever he gets the chance, his hand is somewhere on or close to your ass.

Your hands too though, not a chance he passes up on to hold it, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t think about your hands on him 24/7. If you wear any rings or nail polish, he always notices.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Loves to ask “Where do you want it, baby?” but his personal favorite is definitely in your mouth. Not even down your throat, he loves seeing you stick your tongue out for him, all coated in his cum, before you swallow.

He’s tried tasting his own cum before out of curiosity and had conflicted feelings about it. He’s even considered changing his diet afterwards, but (unsurprisingly) he got tired of eating so much fruit pretty quickly.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Not really a secret, since it’s literally canon and we all know he loves wearing lacy panties, but yeah. He definitely stole a pair of your underwear before and he’ll deny having seen it anywhere if you’d ask.

Since he loves sexting, he definitely has a nude or two of you and after annoying Sam enough to show him how the stupid printer worked, he now keeps his favorite lewd picture of you in his wallet, because why not? It’s especially useful when you two have to be separated because you’re working on different cases or something of the sort.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Dean has obviously fucked around a lot (literally), countless of hookups under his belt. He definitely knows what he’s doing and he can be very annoying about it when he boasts.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

You on top of him is his favorite sight. His hands get to grab everywhere and he loves that he can focus on watching his cock slide in and out of you as you ride him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Sex, for Dean, is fun. It’s a good time, where you get to enjoy each other and make each other feel amazing. If he can’t get a giggle or a smile out of you, he thinks he’s not doing his job right.

However, there are definitely occasions that call for a more serious mood. Such as intimate moments after a rough day, where he and you just want to unwind and feel each other.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Short answer: He keeps his pubic hair trimmed, but not completely shaved.

Long answer: There’s other body hair he treats differently. Over the years he’s developed light chest hair, which he sometimes bothers to shave. He keeps his happy trail, as he’s never thought about it. His thighs are somewhat hairy. His body hair sometimes has a little hint of red color mixed into it.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Unfortunately there’s little room for the real big romantic settings, such as rose petals and lit candles around the bedroom. With life on the road for the most part, you have to make do with what you have. He tries to make each time as special as possible though, it’s always passionate.

Dean’s a big softie once he lets his guard down, which you manage with ease. Very verbal, huge on saying sweet nothings. Lots of kisses. Definitely likes holding or touching you throughout it all. If possible, not a sheet of paper will fit between you two.

Eye contact is his strong suit. Doesn’t matter what position you’re in or what you’re doing, he loves getting lost in your eyes. If you ever avert your gaze or close your eyes, he reminds you to keep them on him.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Dean, as a certified porn addict, beats his meat a lot. His libido is high and he can’t always come crawling to you, so he relies on trusty lube and his hand more often than he likes to admit.

Definitely has a fantasy of you walking in on him and lending him a helping hand.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Roleplay! Just the thought of you in a sexy costume gets him hard. You’d make him the happiest man alive if you greeted him in a nurse costume. He’d also be into a police officer costume, handcuffs included. It’s fun and it allows you two to play pretend for a bit.

Praise, both ways. He’s always gushing about how good you are, how amazing you feel, how pretty you look while you’re fucking. In return, he loves getting praised by you. Nothing fuels him more than pleasing you and he’s so eager for those compliments.

Food play, to some degree. He loves seeing your pretty mouth stuffed, lips wrapped around a sweet treat in seductive fashion. Or when he gets to lick whipped cream from your skin? Again, playful and fun.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His favorite location for sex remains a bed (bedroom, motel, he’s not too picky in that regard), because there he can take his time with you.

Of course making sweet love to you in the backseat of his car is always an option, too. The way the Impala's windows fog up is addictive for him.

That said, he won’t say no to other options. Not an inch of the bunker has not been defiled by the two of you. Shower, kitchen, the table in the main hall, the library, even Sam’s room while he was out. You name it, he’s fucked you there at least once.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Dean Winchester’s mind runs dirty at the smallest things. It doesn’t take much to pop the idea into his head that he wants to bend you over the nearest furniture or pin you against the nearest wall to have his way with you.

When you’re in a grumpier mood – that might sound shitty, but hear me out: He loves your gruffier, feisty side, because it makes him wish he could make that tension in your shoulders melt under his touch. He wants to kiss that scowl away and make you see stars until you forget about why you were even mad in the first place. You are hot. You being angry is even hotter, and it’s like a challenge for him to do something about it. Plus, you could always take it out on him, dominate the shit out of him until you’re no longer pent up and frustrated.

What never fails to drive him absolutely crazy is you wearing his clothes. You in his shirt or jacket makes his heartbeat skyrocket and his dick rock hard. It awakens something primal and possessive within him.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

A hard no for him would be anything involving causing you (intense) pain. I’d go as far and say he’d not even be into spanking, unless it’s like a playful slap on your ass. He’s not even a fan of choking or biting you. He hates seeing you hurt and if things get too intense, it’ll only trigger memories of him being forced to torture others in hell. There's already enough blood and guilt on his hands.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Hear me out when I say earlier seasons Dean goes weak in the knees when you suck him off. Nothing more of an ego boost than you drooling over his cock.

Later seasons Dean though? He likes to give head like a starved man. Getting you off is a huge turn on for him and admittedly, you riding his face is a high that he can’t compare to anything else. He’ll use every part of his mouth, lips, tongue, teeth until your legs give out and he has to hold you against him.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the mood. He can do both, but he prefers slow and sensual. Dean loves taking his sweet time with you, worshiping every inch of your body. He wants to cherish the moment and really commit every detail to memory.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Again, proper and passionate sex is his preferred way to go. But even then he has a high sex drive and more often than not, you don’t have much time for anything but a quickie. Most of the time, actual proper sex is a luxury, so you make do with what you can.

If you two have to rush it, you might as well have fun with it: It’s turned into a challenge of how quickly he can make you come undone on his cock versus how long it’ll take for you to make him orgasm.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Leaning towards no. Referring back to the fact that he doesn’t like hurting you, he also doesn’t like putting you into danger. Safety comes first, otherwise it’s not enjoyable for him.

On the flipside, he’s experimental when it comes to new things. You wanna try out a new kink? Sure! He won’t say no to spicing up your sex life. Just nothing involving potential damage.

He definitely is risky when it comes to public spaces. Likes to steal touches, sometimes subtle, sometimes not so much. The thrill of potentially getting caught red handed with his fingers between your legs under the table? Fuck, yes.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s not done until you are.

Lasts an average time, but that doesn’t mean he can’t go for a round two. Or three. Or more, you get the idea. Unless the situation calls for anything out of the order, he makes sure to be gentleman enough to make you cum first. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Handcuffs for him, or anything to tie him up with, you can get creative, so long as you tease him until he’s a whimpering mess unable to touch you.

Once you pulled out a butt plug and initially he thought it was for you, but, oh, was he wrong. Since then it has turned into a regular part of your bedtime activities.

He’s not one to get jealous of a toy, so if you want to use anything to rile yourself up further, he sees it as an aid more than a competition. Plus, there’s something insanely arousing about seeing you play with yourself, whether it is with the help of a toy or not.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

More than anything he enjoys being on the receiving end of teasing. You can make him beg so prettily.

However, that’s during the sex itself. When it comes to working you up beforehand, he’s a master. Teasing touches, sultry words, dangerous spark in his eyes and a cheeky grin? He’s bold and he’s not afraid to bite off more than he can chew.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

If you want him to be, he can be so damn vocal. Big on the whimpering department if you dominate him. And, again, just as enthusiastic regarding sweet praise and dirty talk.

Other than that, he’s usually all heavy panting and grunting. Not so much moaning and screaming, that’s what he tries to make you do.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He knows it’s cliché, but he likes to turn on the record player when he has sex. Playing some music during the hanky panky makes the whole experience even better. His playlist, of course, consists mostly of classic rock, but he’s genuinely picked the more romantic songs. Nothing Else Matters by Metallica, Fool in the Rain by Led Zeppelin, Love in an Elevator by Aerosmith… you get the idea. After an especially passionate night to a whole LP of Led Zeppelin, he couldn’t help but flinch and turn bright red when the same songs started playing in his car the next day. Dean also made a mixtape just for the occasion as a gift for you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

A good six and a half inches, about seven when he’s hard, in size and definitely on the thicker side in girth.

It’s smooth minus that one prominent vein on the underside.

Pink tip that turns even brighter when he’s aroused.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He broke the scale, Dean is one horny bastard.

He’s either going to town on you, much to the dismay of anyone else in the bunker, or he’s pent up most of the time.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After making sure you’re okay and putting in some effort to clean up (at least a little), he’s out like a light. Dean is a light sleeper, but the blissfully exhausted state he finds himself in after exerting himself makes him clock out. It takes everything from him to not just collapse on top of you and say hello to dreamland sometimes.

[animehideout]

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

PART ONE.

read part 2 here

GOJO SATORU X FEM! READER.

a/n: Here's part one, since all of you voted for Gojo satoru arranged marriage. Once I'm done with this story I'll start writing Long distance relationship x geto suguru.

Let me know if you want to get tagged in the next parts🫶🏻

"You can use the main bedroom; I won't be home much anyway," Satoru casually said glancing your way.

You silently agreed, carrying your bags to the spacious new bedroom.

The house was fancy; everything looked classy and pricey, but it's Gojo Satoru we're talking about.

You didn't exchange many words. It's your first night together after saying your vows. Still in your wedding dress, changing felt awkward with his intense gaze, so you began unpacking instead.

Leaning against the door frame, he observed you before finally speaking.

"Let's agree on something, okay?" he said.

"Huh? What agreement?" you asked.

"Listen, I have no idea how I ended up in this marriage mess, and I think you feel the same, even though you're the one benefiting. But let me be clear—this marriage isn't real."

"But how the curse will break?—"

"It doesn't matter how. The prophecy said it will so you can save playing as real husband and wife to yourself," he interrupted. "I'm not interested in you, and I don't need to know more about you. I already know enough," he added.

"I'm not interested in you either, and you know it Satoru."you spat.

"Yeah, right. That's why you needed my help." he mocked.

"I DIDN'T. I was fine with not breaking the curse, but my family and the higher-ups insisted for some stupid reasons."

"Yeah, right. STOP LYING. I know you wanted this; otherwise, you could've refused."

"If I had any power to do so, I wouldn't have wasted a second" you glared at him, feeling offended.

"You just confirmed that y/n, I really don't wanna see your face, you can wander this house as much as you want. I'll be in Jujutsu high” he said closing the door forcefully, leaving you all alone.

You removed your dress, changing into comfier clothes.

You were more than relieved that he left, you couldn't stand him anyway or stand his annoying voice. You wanted peace and you finally had it.

You couldn't understand why your family and the higher-ups insisted on breaking your curse, you were completely fine with it. With not being a sorcerer, breaking the curse will only bring a huge responsibility on your shoulders and you'll end up like every one in your family...A jujutsu sorcerer, exorcising curse day and night to help those who can't defend themselves.

Even though you weren't capable of seeing curses, you still could sense them roaming in the space..

It scared you at first, knowing that something is near but you can't do anything about it, unlike your other siblings.

But you grew to accept it and see the whole situation as a blessing not a curse.

But here you found yourself, marrying Gojo Satoru the strongest sorcerer, by an order of both your family and the higher-ups, saying that this bond wouldn't only break your curse that's stopping you from using your Jujutsu but it will also bring a new balance to the jujutsu world.

You're stuck with him, stuck with Satoru. You don't know him well, all what you know is that he's extremely powerful and from what you've seen, he's also a dick and a pain in the ass. Only a few hours in your marriage and he managed to offend the shit out of you.

“its just a matter of time” you said to yourself, while getting under the covers.

The night was truly terrifying for you, you weren't used to spend a night all alone in a big house like this, but it was 100 times better than spending it with Gojo.

So you just shut your eyes, hoping to fall asleep before falling apart.

_________________________________________

•In Jujutsu High•

“Huh Gojo what are you doing here?” asked principal Yaga.

“What?” he answered coldly while shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Its your wedding night, why'd you let your bride alone?”

“Hah bride?” he laughed raising an eyebrow. “And I thought she's the only one being delusional.. I did what all of you wanted, I married her, but thay doesn't mean I wanna live with her” he added.

“But Goj-”

“Sensei- I did my responsibility as the strongest sorcerer for the sake of the jujutsu world.. you can't ask for more”

“but if the higher-ups learn that you'-”

“Well screw the higher ups hehe” he laughed then headed to his room, reserved on Jujutsu high to spend the night away from you.

[lincolndjarin]

this is a request!! i would loveeee to see desperate din and him begging. he’s always in the suit and never really around people so it would make so much sense for him to be touch starved and needy. like he meets reader for the first time and all his needs and feelings he ignored for years come to the front and he’s just down bad 😩

a/n : sorry this took forever to get around!! i haven't written drabbles before so i hope this is okay <3 thank you for the request !! (i read online that some people get annoyed when drabbles are over 100 words if that is true feel free to tell me to knock it off LMAO cause some people say its just a short fic so idk i'm lost and know nothing.)

anyways, i changed a little bit of your request to keep it short, hope that's okay!!

pairing : din djarin x afab!reader

word count : 0.6k

warning : 18+ mdni, smut, no plot this is just porn, sorta sub!din, begging, din's lowkey a boob man in this, nipple stuff idk the proper tag here sorry, praise, premature ejaculation lowkey (din gets a little over excited), handjobs

It was surprisingly easy to convince him to take the armor off. Almost like he was waiting for you to ask, from there he was putty in your hands, crawling into the sleeping cubby, panting before you've even touched him.

It's too dark to see him but you can feel how different this is from the quickies in the cockpit or the stress induced sex against the side of the ship from a mission gone wrong. His kisses are hot and feverish against you skin as he latches onto your nipple with a whimper. You've never felt his mouth on your flesh and suddenly it's your greatest regret. Denying yourself such a thing. Attentive is an understatement, his tongue lapping at the meat of your chest, wanting feel the weight of it in his mouth.

"Maker, Mando, slow down..." You laugh breathlessly, nothing could have prepared you for the whimper against your breast. You feel the line of spit as he pulls away briefly.

"Please?" His voice has never sounded like this, an unfamiliar breathy whine is stifled as his lips wrap themselves back around your nipple, lewd wet sounds filling the tiny space. His cock rests fully erect between your thighs, the warmth coming off of him is suffocating as he groans against your breasts, burying his head between them.

You feel the vibration on his lips as he moans against you.

"M-More, more, please." He drags his mouth from your chest to your throat, settling there now, it's like he's trying to find your pulse with his tongue.

After that it's like the words are being pulled out of you, you aren't sure where they come from, you've never talked like this before.

"More what, sweet boy?"

His hips snap forward seeming involuntarily, you can feel him starting to grind against your thigh, desperate for whatever he can get.

"More you." He mumbles, high pitched and demanding.

You let your hands touch everything.

The parts of him no ones seen, let alone touched, in decades.

It's like every single inch of his skin is sensitive. You scrape your nails down his back and sound you draw from him is downright pornographic.

He gives up on any attempt to keep his mouth on you, he's too busy writhing and begging when your hands travel southing, running your fingers through the dark thatch of curls that starts on the bottom of his stomach.

"Touch me- please touch me. I'll be good, I promise to be good just touch me." He's positively breathless by the time you wrap your hand around his stiff and aching cock.

You watched him kill three people today, with zero hesitation. The most ruthless killer you've ever known. And right now he's humping your leg and biting your shoulder to muffle the obscene sounds he's making.

You let one hand travel back up, pinching his nipples, trying to draw more of those delicious noises from him.

With that he's trembling. There's no more words as you start to stroke his length, alternating between his nipples with pinches and soothing rubs of your thumb over the pebbled buds.

You don't even have to move your other hand, you simply hold it still as he fucks it, his head resting beside yours, the only sounds you can hear are his gasps for air and soft airy moans.

It takes a minute at most.

It's the fastest he's ever finished with you.

Normally he finishes with a low groan but now the only sound filling the cubby is a drawn out, shaky whine.

You feel his release against your palm. Hot and sticky as he rides it out, rutting against you until he's finally satisfied, murmuring a slurred "Thank you, thank you, thank you." against your skin.

You turn your head to press a kiss into his temple.

"Good boy."

[iwonderwh0]

I had this snippet in my notes for a really long time. I hoped maybe I'll figure how to write more things around it, but ultimately today I decided to set it free and post it. It's part of my multibodied au that I post about sometimes under "single mind multiple bodies" tag

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

Hank never liked androids, although he wouldn't be able to answer for sure, whether it was really the androids he disliked or rather what they represented.

A multibillion-dollar corporation, disguised as a pretty face, a fake promise, but so appealing and convenient it was easy to grow dependant, get too used to the level of the never-ending entertainment and patience to tolerate another human, suddenly too imperfect to complete with a dopamine trap of a CyberLife substitute. That's what it was, a substitute, but most of all — it was an attempt to steal human connection. Steal and sell it back for profit. A precious resource that should have only been shared with other people but was now wasted for nothing. A toy, not even an animal like a pet.

At some point, Hank wasn’t even sure if it was really the androids that were getting progressively "more human" or people who were rapidly becoming less so. It was entirely possible, he thought, that the change was proportional, as if humans strived to assimilate themselves among the new crowd of soulless imposters.

The thought of it never failed to make Hank angry, sick. It made him sick to his stomach to think about an entire generation that was doomed to become the lonliest history has ever seen, denied a chance to fully experience probably the only thing actually worth living for.

And they won't even know it.

Hell

Hating androids instead of those who brought them was no more productive than being angry at the rock for being thrown. Still. Hank couldn't help but feel the surge of hatred every time he saw them. Irrationality, he wanted to see them destroyed, to be the one to destroy them personally, as if the damage could in any way be translated back to CyberLife.

He hated Connor. Despite agreeing to take the job by his own decision, he couldn't help it. He thought he knew enough about what he was going to be dealing with to be prepared to ignore all the attempts at fooling him. It wouldn't work, not on him. He wouldn't let it make him forget about what it was. Or rather, what it wasn't. That's what he told himself. That's what he kept repeating.

But working with Connor kept challenging him in ways he didn't expect.

Most of all, it made him suddenly aware that he had absolutely no idea what androids actually were because whatever he had imagined them to be, Connor was not.

Just as Hank imagined androids would, it tried to be nice to him, talking to him with that bubbly attitude that Hank so hated, the one he had learned to associate with a phony act. That much was true. The thing was, Connor stopped acting this way fairly quickly and switched instead to finding new ways to get on Hank's nerves. To annoy him. Provoke a reaction.

He caught him smoking once, and as Hank palmed his own coat, searching for his pack, he realized that the android must have pickpocketed him at some point. He didn't even notice when or how.

"Aren't you afraid of getting some cyber-cancer?" Hank asked him, approaching.

Connor eyed him, unimpressed.

"I've already got you," he said.

Hank snorted, surprised.

"Was that funny?"

"Yes," Hank shook his head. "That was a good one."

"Oh, sorry. I meant it as an insult." Connor said in a voice that might as well have said 'I think there was a misunderstanding'.

Hank laughed again, and for a moment, he almost found himself liking Connor.

It surprised Hank at first, before he got too used to it to care. On another thought, he pondered, it might still have been a part of the android's programming. If Connor couldn't provoke positive emotions, he would still try to provoke some.

Another thing that rubbed Hank the wrong way about Connor was his ability to fake emotions, specifically, the unconventional choice of them. They were not what Hank expected an android to imitate. But then again, he had never owned one to know if it was common or not. Connor pretended to be annoyed when Hank didn't want to follow his suggestions and frustrated when he was unable to get an expected outcome, be it a task of his own or an attempt to provoke a reaction. He would get angry at Hank for doing something wrong -- even if it was just incorrectly pronounced word -- but devastated and anxious when he did something wrong himself.

It went against Hank's conviction that androids were agreeable and indulgent, not to mention flawless. But, if he thought about it, Connor wasn't a companion android. His intended function wasn't to appeal to anyone, especially not to Hank, but instead to pass as human and accomplish specific tasks by any means necessary. Which, Hank realised, happened to include emotional manipulation.

This makes it worse.

Hank was stupid enough to fall for it. He shouldn't repeat his mistakes.

God, did he hate androids.

Surely, the damn thing couldn't feel anything.

There still was a doubt. It was lumping in Hank's throat when he saw the android checking itself in their shared bathroom mirror, spending a wasteful amount of time doing so, a weird kind of worry written on its face.

Maybe he's doing something else in the process

It pried at him at the sight of an android stopping at the mall to take a closer look at the fish inside the hall aquarium.

This could be his attempt to evoke your sympathy.

It was pulsing in his head at the memory of the android leaning into his own tight embrace of his other body in an action no androids should be doing on their own. There was no reason for him to do that. And yet he still did.

Surely, Hank could further hypothesize about being the intended audience in a well-planned performance, but unlike other sound explanations, this one made no sense at all. There was nothing to gain from it, or at least, Hank couldn't think of any potential use for it.

Could he just want to do it? Not for anyone but for himself.

Could he be alive?

The thought scared him. Not so much because of the possibility of it being correct, but because the implications of what this fact would mean in a wider sense.

If Connor is alive, are other androids too?

Could they all be?

Have they always been?

It would, however, be a lie to say that the thought wasn't unnerving in its own. Although talking to an android, it was easy to forget that Hank was talking to, essentially, answerphone, he had never once before fully considered, that he might be actually judged — not just by an algorithm trying to decide which ad to feed him next time he goes online, but by something that could actually see him, think about him, form an opinion about him, be in any way affected by his words.

There was always this sense of permissiveness in talking to an android. It was a crime with no witnesses to recognise it as such.

And then, suddenly, there was one.

[idyllic-affections]

Just found out people call the dottore clone you see on the boat "boattore" and now i can die in peace 😭. Would [Name] from your pantalone fanfic give some of the clones nicknames like that too?

dad!pantalone brainrot v (ft. il dottore).

summary. a general expansion on what il dottore's relationship with pantalone's child is like.

trigger & content warnings. dottore clones being... dottore clones. idk. they're insane. implied human experimentation.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. il dottore (and his clones) & pantalone's child!reader. 0.5k words. they/them pronouns for reader. prev | next

author's thoughts. you know, every time i see anyone like anything from the dad!pantalone series, i'm like... wow??? i wrote that a while ago and people still find it enjoyable..... anyway getting an ask related to it made me all giddy!!!!!! so of course i responded asap. also me, i do that, i call that dottore clone boattore LMAO i also call him psi, but i like boattore better. it's silly and goofy. also god i welcome asks related to this series with open arms! i love talking about it. i think i should make a tag for it tbh... initially, i wasn't going to, because i didn't plan on expanding upon it, but it's still popular with tumblr users, so... yeah. i'll probably make a tag for it.

il dottore's relationship with [name] is... complicated. it varies from clone to clone.

first off, to answer your question—yes! [name] absolutely has their own silly nicknames for the clones, mainly because they take pleasure in knowing how much it annoys them. the clones can't really do much of anything about it, either. they all just have to tolerate [name]'s antics, because... well. pantalone handles all of the fatui's finances, you know? they can't exactly tell his kid to stop being an annoying little brat, lest they decide to complain to the regrator about the clones' behavior. they wouldn't. they're mature enough not to complain to their father about things like that (for the most part, anyway).

some of the clones find [name]'s nicknames kind of funny... but most of the dottores find it annoying. it sucks to be them, because [name] finds their annoyance very funny.

it's a trait they got from their father, really, because he also finds amusement in the doctor's agitation, but he's more partial to prime dottore's agitation. his kid finds it funnier to annoy the younger segments.

as i've mentioned before, dottore prime is one of [name]'s tutors. he's also the only one that has any kind of authority over them, but only within their tutoring hours. after that? they're free to agitate him all they want, however... they once discovered that some of their work had become inexplicably more difficult after they messed with him outside of tutoring hours. when they asked about it, dottore had told them that if they had the time to be a nuisance to him, then they must have had the time to study harder as well, surely? what else would they be doing with all of that freetime? surely being a sheer and utter brat to him didn't take up all of that freetime? he only had to do increase the rigor of their work one single time for them to get the message. they don't bother him anymore.

(if someone decides to address their sudden politeness towards prime dottore, as their father did once, they get very flustered and annoyed, quickly changing the conversation to another subject. they hate to admit that the doctor in his prime has ultimately won... at least they can freely bother his segments without suffering the same humiliating defeat.)

on the other end of the scale, there's webttore. webtoon dottore—i call him beta, personally. the goofy segment with no fashion sense. yeah, that one. he's always about three seconds away from tearing their throat out. their smug aura mocks him. now, funnily enough, if anyone else so much as indicates that they're having violent thoughts towards [name]? he doesn't take that well. he's sort of like a brother to them; he's someone they're always at odds with but he's also someone who would not hesitate to tear apart anyone who threatens [name]'s safety. he always needs new test subjects! he'd rather die than so much as imply that he has any kind of attachment to them, though. it's an interesting dynamic, to say the least.

oh, and might i add...

[name] wouldn't take primettore's decision to destroy all the other clones too well.

just saying.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[nottakingresponsibility]

Welcome to the horrors, time to turn right.

"Hello there, I'll be posting out of my own free will, do whatever, don't expect me to be nice to you." | | | Ooc stuff!

Mod is 18! Also, I go by several pronouns but I prefer he/him the most so this works out! Don't expect Jimbob over here to be entirely nice to you, that's just how he is! Most of the time things I say will be in character, unless directly stated otherwise. #jimmysrunningagain Is the ooc tag. I'll probably only follow other rp blogs! Saw other people doing this and got inspired to do it, so here I am. Frankly, I don't know how Tumblr works I just thought this would be fun, so forgive me if I do something horribly wrong. You can ask whatever for the most part, attack him with jimcurl if you want, whatever though that's the only ship I actually tolerate with Jimmy in it. Ocs, other Mouthwashing characters, just anons in general are allowed! Have fun be free on the flower fields. I don't have much of a DNI other than just don't be an outright creep, okay? Thanks. (I know Jimmy is a bad person, I just enjoy him for his writing, I do not support him.) My asks will be tagged with #responsibilityhateshim cause I think that's really amusing, #responsibilityistolerable is for anons or accounts I see reoccurring, normally signed off with an emoji or something :] Don't be afraid of me by the way, I'm shy too I'm like a bug they're more scared of you than you are of them. Jimcurl content will be tagged with #jimbobsresponsibility (he would be possessive i know it, changed the tag because it was annoying me it didn't go with the responsibility theme) I'll come up with more along the way when things come up. It has come to my attention I probably need an actual roleplay tag, uh. Keep the responsibility theme going with #responsiplay or something, yeah that works, also from here on out probably gonna tag specific mouthwashing characters roleplays with '#responsible[character name]' but I'm too lazy to go back and do that, also for a basic 'jimmy just Speaks pelt him with rocks' tag uh. #responsibilitytalks. okay, probably need one for actual somewhat lore related things important to his character atp. uh. #responsiblelore Jimmy has died: 3 times

[undiscovered-horizon]

[2K Followers 'Clue' Special]

Imagine Dream and Desire having a competition over who can make you part of their kingdom. - Part 2

[Part 1]

1100 words left.

You're about to read through the 'method' part of the article, when someone sits across from you. A rosy, sweet and spicy aroma hits your nostrils. Surprised and slightly annoyed at the disturbance, you look up.

It's strange. They're strange but not in the wrong way. Blond hair, red suit, heavy jewellery - they look out of place in a small cafe filled with university students drinking vegan chai lattes while swearing at engineering software. The stranger smiles and you doubt you’ve ever seen a more show-stopping person. There’s something unordinary about their features: they’re neither male nor female and yet both of them at the same time; the person across from you has the potential to be whatever you want to be.

"Do I know you?" you ask in a meek voice. Something about attractive people makes others lose their general certainty; their glamour is imposing.

"Most unfortunately, no," the stranger answers in a honeyed, alluring voice.

"Then, uhm, can I help you with something?" You’re nervous, although you’re not exactly sure why. Is it excitement? Fear? A strange, yet delicious concoction of these two?

"Yes, there is something you could help me with, dear.” The stranger leans towards you. “See, I'm not entirely sure I understand why someone like you sits alone in a dull place like this. Don't you think you deserve more, better?"

The suggestion flusters you. Unaware, you nervously rub your hands together. Feeling your cheeks flush, you can’t help but lower your gaze, which glazes over your laptop’s screen.

Then, another thing catches your attention. Your hands are nowhere near the keyboard and yet a sentence is being typed under your work-in-progress essay:

Is this truly what you’re dreaming of?

But then you blink and the message disappears, forever making you unsure whether you did see it. Perhaps it was only your imagination?

You look back up at your conversationalist. Suddenly, you have a gnawing sensation that something about them has changed as though their charm, a magical spell of glamour, has somehow dissipated in the recent seconds. They’re still unimaginably beautiful but not as alluring and charming as you had previously thought.

"Maybe we can get out of here?” they ask.  “I'll buy you a drink and you'll tell me what you desire."

A second ago you would have agreed immediately but now… Now there’s a sense of scepticism inside you like a voice in the back of your head making you question your judgment.

"Actually, I'm a little busy today but tomorrow's alright."

1100 words left. Dream - 1, Desire - 0

______

Tagging interested people: @emarich7 @snowsatsu

[olderthannetfic]

Issue: I know people avoid reader/OC fics. But I feel genuinely good about what I've written and I feel like the concept and my competency as a writer WOULD attract people if not for the automatic "nope" to readers/OCs. (I know everyone feels good about what they've written, and I don't mean to sound self-absorbed, but I genuinely do feel like I'm a good writer.) Would it be...disingenuous to either A) substitute the reader/OC with a canon character and rewrite it to be more in-character, or B) file the serial numbers off completely so it's OC / OC, which people generally find more palatable than CC / OC? The first one is more difficult to do well, but would probably attract more readers. The second one doesn't have the benefit of a canon label slapped on it to attract fans of the canon, but isn't constrained by canon anymore.

--

I think you should do whatever is fun for you.

For me, second person is a hard no. There's nothing kneejerk about it and no amount of writing skill will ever do anything to change this. It is hubris on your part to imagine that it isn't a deeply considered opinion on the part of most second person haters.

Overtly asking me to identify with one character in particular rather than leaving that up to me can be a squick as well. I don't fantasize about myself, and trying to pin me down to The Reader Insert (including in Mary Sue form in the third person) elicits visceral disgust. Even canon character/canon character will annoy me if I feel I'm being told to identify more with the one I identify less with. Your writing skill isn't going to overcome this for the large number of people in fandom who feel this way.

I'll happily read new characters if you're good, but in many fandoms, I'm there looking for something specific with particular canon characters. It doesn't matter how good you are at baking a cake if I need a sandwich and sugar will give me a headache.

Which option will get the most attention depends heavily on the culture of your proposed fandom and what other tags would be on this story. Nobody can begin to predict that other than you.

[kitashousewife]

Here Comes Trouble

an: chapter one to my lover of mine series! i'll add the tag list in the comments.

A few weeks after the year anniversary of your coronation as the princess of Sendon, things are finally starting to feel real. Unfortunately for you, an afternoon of eavesdropping proves to be much messier than you thought

warnings: angst, food and drink mentions, reader wears dresses and makeup, royal AU and attitudes, misogynic behavior, swearing, tension

wc: 3.1k

Late spring meant for a lot of changes. New fabrics and decorations around the palace, new floral arrangements brought in at the start of each week, as well as many festivals and fundraisers to be planned. Aside from the smaller details, there were a lot of changes to your schedule as well.

Since becoming princess of Sendon, you've gained more responsibilities. Instead of sitting in on meetings, you've been asked to lead them. Appearances were no longer few and far between; your schedule is packed with them, constantly being arranged to fit just a few more. The newfound trust has been exciting, but tiring nonetheless. Thankfully your Grandmother, the Queen, has been extremely kind and involved in this strange transition.

You're grateful of course, as this has never been in your plans.

One year and a few short weeks ago, you stood front and center in the palace cathedral as the country cheered your name and you accepted your new role. Having a very mundane upbringing in the suburbs, graduating from public school and then college, you had never in million years thought you would receive this sort of news. Sure, you had read in books and heard bizarre stories about people across the world suddenly becoming famous, but they always seemed as if they would be just that; stories.

But now, as you sip your tea from the kitchen counter of the palace kitchen, those stories are very much your reality.

"Remember, you have a meeting with the queen right before lunch today," your secretary Utahime reminds you as she quickly walks into the kitchen, dropping off what you assume is a menu to the chef with a smile.

"I remember," you nod, slipping off of the marble to place your dishes near the sink. "Her office?"

Utahime nods, eyes skimming the calendar in her arms. "Maki and Mai have some outfit options in your room."

You hum. One of the best parts of your new role.

"Alright," you sigh. The clock over your very diligent secretary's shoulder reads about 10:00 AM. "I'll be there." She only nods in response once more, quickly shuffling out the door with a small wave.

You thank the kitchen staff with a smile before making your way upstairs. It's Monday morning, meaning your Grandmother is in and out of meetings with different departments, so you feel a little special that she has made time for you in your busy schedule.

The marble staircase in the middle of the palace is empty, save for a couple men who work to dust it. Come to think of it, you've seen more people than usual around this morning.

"Princess,"

"Maki, Mai, how are you two today?"

Maki comes around the corner from your bathroom and into your room. "Annoyed, and you?"

You snort. "Intrigued. What happened?"

Mai grabs three garment bags from their resting spot on your bed and hangs them from rolling wardrobe in the middle of your room. You lean against the mattress as the two girls work to unzip the bags.

"The Queen's assistants sent these up this morning," Mai grunts as she struggles with the zipper of one of the outfits. "and they have got to be the worst ones yet."

Each outfit is the exact same, just different colors. An A-line dress, just below the knee, with a matching coat, as well as a pair of plain white heels. At least you have the option between pale pink, blue, or yellow.

"They're not that bad," you stand up, feeling the fabric between your fingers. Most of the outfits you are provided are simple and clean: Princess Attire as your Grandmother calls it. "Blue is fine for today."

Maki and Mai share a glance, knowing you would pick that one. Mai trots off to your closet with the dress and shoes, while Maki zips up the remaining outfits.

"What are you meeting with the Queen about today?"

You follow Mai into the closet, grabbing a simple linen dress from the small section of clothes that actually belong to you. Slipping off your pajamas, you shrug.

"I actually have no clue. Normally, she fills me in but it's anyone's guess this time," the linen hits just above your knees, perfect for the sudden heat wave the kingdom is experiencing. Maki appears behind you suddenly, placing a pair of socks and shoes next to you. One thing the Queen has not been able to change, much to her dismay, is the way you dress in your free time.

"Thanks," Maki nods before grabbing the laundry. "Have you two heard anything?"

Your very loyal chambermaids share a look, before going back to what they were doing.

"So you have,"

"No!" They say in unison. Mai coughs.

"Well-"

"Mai."

Your eyebrows scrunch together while you do your hair quickly. The two rarely keep secrets from you, which means this must be something big.

"Please!" You exit the closet to find the two girls whispering to each other before jumping back to look at you. "C'mon, just tell me."

They stare at you with empathetic looks on their faces. You let out a defeated sigh before heading out the door.

"Fine, fine. I'll find out soon enough I suppose. I'll see you two in a bit," you wave and walk out the door, wracking your brain as to what today could be about. Your Grandmother is very close to you, sharing almost everything that goes on in the meetings you aren't invited to. She hasn't said a word though, which makes you anxious.

You decide to spend your free morning in the garden, checking on the different flowers the gardeners so kindly planted at your request. Right before you make it to the entrance of the garden, you hear the muffled voices of men from an open window. Shuffling over as quiet as you can, you crouch beneath the window and listen.

"It is possible, and it will have to be possible. She will not be without a spouse. She will be more respected that way." A few hums of agreement follow.

"That rule is old, and with all due respect Sir, that's why we haven't practiced it in what, 50 years? At least?" The voice of your Grandma comes through the window. She seems irritated, to say the least. The other voice wasn't as familiar.

"Your Highness, it's still in the law. And you of all people must know that we can't change it." That voice is much more familiar. Someone in parliament maybe?

"But, I don't think it's necessary. Shouldn't I of all people have the option to change that?"

A silence falls over the room, before someone clears their throat.

"I'm afraid you can't. Section three of the law states-"

"Okay, fine," the Queen walks over to the window. The way it creaks above your head, she must be leaning against the windowsill. You hold your breath, realizing your position for a moment. "Then she must wed."

Who's "she"?

"I say we give her a week."

"A week?" Your Grandmother shrieks, pushing off of the windowsill. Her heels click against the floor. "Absolutely not. Six months at lea-"

"Two months!"

"Ninety days!"

Arguments fill the air until a gavel strikes three times.

"Your Majesty," an elderly man speaks. "The law states that she will have thirty days. If she doesn't find someone in one month," his voice trails off. "She cannot be a princess anymore."

Your stomach sinks and your heart launches up into your throat. Your head spins and you feel sick. There's no way that-

"Then it will be done. I will bring this up to her today. We're meeting in an hour."

Your hands slam against the brick behind you and you start running. You rush through the gardens as fast as your legs will carry you, chest heaving. You could scream. You round the gates and slip through one of the side entrances and into the castle, dress in your fists as you hustle up the stairs.

"What the fuck," you slam your door, entering your chambers with labored breaths. You could scream. The sharp sound of your name fills the room.

"We don't have a lot of time, shower off quickly please," Utahime gives you a pointed look before rushing into your closet. You kick your shoes off at the entrance, throw your dress off and walk into the shower. It takes everything inside of you to not sink to the floor.

"You knew you had-"

"Not now Utahime, I really can't handle any lecturing," you flick the shower off and grab the towel that Mai holds for you outside of the shower walls. She gives you a sad, but understanding look.

"What happened?"

Your secretary can come off as quite severe, but she really is a sister to you. Only a couple years apart from each other meant you had a lot in common.

You huff as you dress quickly, forgoing the matching coat at the moment. As soon as the dress is zipped up, you plop into the vanity chair.

"While I was in the garden, I heard some talking going on from one of the meeting room windows. I stopped to listen and-"

Utahime cuts you off with a sigh. She sits down on the loveseat in the middle of your closet and glances over at you.

"You heard?"

You nod. Nobara comes in quickly, giving you a polite smile before beginning to brush your hair. She gives a glance to Maki and Mai who sit next to Utahime in a couple of chairs.

"God, you knew too? Why does everyone know me getting married before I do?"

Nobara shakes her head, grabbing a few things from the vanity before continuing with your hair. You groan. The entire time you've been a princess, your wishes have been respected. You've never been forced to an event you don't want to go to, you've always had the choice on your schedule for the day. This is new, and unwelcome.

You look at yourself in the mirror and frown. Being a wife was not something that was on your to-do list, and you are not looking forward to finding a husband.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could have told you. I didn't think you would find out this way." Utahime brings you your phone, and you shrug.

"Not your fault. I feel sick," you put your head in your hands. "I bet they have someone lined up for me. Some old royal from who knows where," you close your eyes as Nobara moves on to your makeup, working quickly as you don't have a lot of time. Maki hums in agreement.

The minutes pass in silence, only the sounds of Nobara's quick hands and your chambermaids picking things up fill the room. By the time you're ready to go, you are at a loss. Emotionally and verbally. You look in the mirror one last time. Nobara did a light makeup look and a simple low bun. You thank her before slipping on your heels and heading out the door.

"Good luck," Mai sighs as she leans against one of your bedposts. Maki stands by her side with an apologetic smile.

"Thanks you two. Hopefully, I'll see the two of you at lunch?"

They nod as you and Utahime begin your walk to the Queen's office. You don't say anything at first, and either does she, until her phone chimes.

"The Queen is running late," she mumbles, typing a response while the two of you go down the stairs. "She said she will be there in about thirty minutes and sends her apologies." You roll your eyes.

"I'm going to the garden," Utahime raises her eyebrows. "I'll be on time, I promise. I just need some air." She nods and you walk down the hallway and out the side door. As soon as you walk into the garden, you feel like you can breathe again. Your mind is racing, thoughts of what on earth your Grandma is thinking, mixed with anger at every stupid male in parliament stir in your brain. As you turn to follow the path to the fountain, you run into something.

Or, someone.

"Oh! I'm so sorry,"

"Princess! My apologies, I am so sorry. I should have been looking where I was going."

Before you is a man, much taller than you, with hair white as snow. He's wearing navy slacks, a white button-up, and expensive-looking tan leather shoes. His eyes are wide, and you are sure you've never seen eyes so blue. He's fit, looks about your age, and he's gorgeous. Not only that, but you've never seen him before.

"I'm fine, are you okay? No need to apologize!" You wave him off and smile. He lets out a sigh of relief and gives you a smile of his own. You almost swoon, and you would have if a royal gardener in the corner of your eye wasn't there to remind you of your situation.

"How rude of me. My name's Satoru. I am so honored to meet you, Princess," he bows, grabbing your hand in his before mumbling your name in a sweet voice. He places a kiss to the back of your hand and you nod. You're buzzing, but the months of practice your Grandmother put you through a year ago have you trained to not show it.

Almost.

"S-Satoru! It's nice to meet you. I don't think I've seen you before," your head tilts, and he smirks.

"No, I don't think we've ever met. I'm not from here, actually."

You stand in silence for a second, trying to figure out what to say. He truly was taking your breath away. Your mouth opens to speak, but your sentence dies on your tongue.

"Princess, she's ready for you!"

Your head whips around to where Utahime stands at the entrance of the garden, waving you down. Satoru nods at her, before bowing slightly at you.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. It was lovely to meet you Satoru. I hope you enjoy the garden!" You wince and walk away, looking at him over your shoulder.

"You as well, Princess. I hope we can see each other again."

You follow behind Utahime, and the two of you speed walking into your Grandma's office. She sits at her desk, looking over a few forms with her own secretary and someone else from the palace, you're not sure who.

"There she is!" she beams up at you once she looks away from the forms, nodding at her secretary before they shuffle out the doors. As soon as the heavy wood shuts behind you, you give her a blank stare.

"Nice to see you too," she states sarcastically, throwing the papers on her desk. You continue to stand. "Are you going to have a seat, or continue to throw a fit standing there?"

You huff and sit down. "Do you have something to say to me?"

She looks at you, confused, and shakes her head.

"You don't? Not even something about a wedding?" Utahime says your name under her breath, but you ignore her. She may be afraid of the Queen, rightfully so, but you aren't. Your grandma closes her eyes and sighs.

"Who told you?"

"I heard it myself. This morning, in fact." You're fuming. If you could see yourself, you'd be positive you would have steam coming out of your ears.

"I tried, sweetheart. I really did. I can't fight the law, you heard me! If I could I would, and you know that." She stands up and walks towards you, standing in front of you to lean against her desk. "I don't know what else to say, other than I'm sorry. I only want what's best for you."

You look up at her with tears in your eyes, unsure if they're from anger or sadness. She clicks her tongue and crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"Bastards, all of them. I don't understand why I, the Queen, can't change the rules. But you know, you don't have to go through with this."

You look up at her and furrow your brows.

"This kingdom means the world to me. I can't just abandon everyone like that. I may be young, but I'm not a coward." Your Grandma smiles at you. You stand up and walk towards the window, looking out at the area of the kingdom in view. "I don't want to stop being Princess, just because of some stupid rule that a bunch of old men won't change." You turn to her and take a deep breath.

"If finding someone to marry is what it takes, then I'll do it. As long as I get to pick who."

Your Grandma laughs and walks over to you, pulling you into a hug.

"I admire your strength and commitment, it's inspiring," when she pulls away she holds your arms. "But that doesn't mean I don't want what's best for you. If at any point you don't want to do this, tell me. I know I can get something figured out." You nod, tears threatening to spill from your eyes once more. After a few moments of collecting yourself, you follow your Grandma back to her desk.

"So, what did you want to meet about today?"

She laughs. "Besides the obvious, I wanted to fill you in on something going on at the palace."

You nod and reclaim your seat. "Sure, what's going on?"

"We are having our Summer's Eve ball in a month, so preparations for that have already begun. Utahime will be coordinating with Ms. Kugisaki and yourself about a dress this week. I think that would be a perfect opportunity for you and your," she pauses, giving you a sympathetic look. "new husband to make your debut to the kingdom. I won't advertise it as such, but I want you to be aware of that." You nod distastefully, and she continues.

"Besides the excitement, we have a guest staying at the palace this summer, starting today."

Your ears perk up. The only time guests have ever stayed at the palace since you've been here was your own family and friends for the holidays.

"Who is it?" You lean forward, grinning with excitement. Your Grandma shares your attitude, clapping her hands together.

"He's the son of one of the members of parliament, actually. He's spending the summer with us to see how the castle is run, the day-to-day operations, and everything like that," she opens her mouth to continue, but she's interrupted.

"Madam, he's ready if you are." Her bodyguard, Masamichi calls from the doors of her office. She nods at him, motioning for you to stand up.

"Grandma, I don't understand, who-"

"Your majesty, it's so good to see you again."

Your eyes shoot up, and your jaw drops to the floor. From the other side of the doorway, Utahime looks at you, palms to the ceiling and a shocked look on her face.

"Sweetheart, I would like you to meet Sir Gojo Satoru, our guest for the summer."

[keeponquinning]

Here with Me — The Pros and Cons — Part One

Joseph Quinn x Latina!Fem!Novelist!Reader — RPF — 18+

word count — 19.5k

summary — it's your birthday weekend and you're working. at the local con in LA, so things could be worse. you have your friends with you, as you're going through a dry spell, creatively. in between signings and a lot of nothing to do, you go to the nearby bar with your friends to kill the time before your late night panel with your peers and one trip from your table to the bar? well... that's the start of everything....

warnings — first off, RPF!! if not your thing, scroll! be nice, if thinking of being mean, think twice! i hope that rhymed. no smut in this chapter, though there are adult talk, cursing, reader is latina ( that shouldn't be a warning but kinda a heads up ) and there is some talk of that. bit of a surprise guest near the end ( think big blue eyes ) mention of porn. reader has a personality, if that's not your thing.... I understand. i tried to make this as entertaining as possible, no use of y/n. bit of mama joe and also a bit of pervy joe, but loads of charming joe.

notes — god, this was a LONG time coming. i'm trying to concentrate on this series, so i'll be working on part two as soon as i post this, but slowly. editing for the first time was fun, def added and changed a few stuff. so i hope it flows a bit nicer. i hope ya'll like this, it was fun to write and share with a few friends, shout out to @quinnypixie as being my beta in the way of me sending pages bc i'm a slut for comments and validation lmao saying that, please leave a comment if you liked this!! I appreciate the likes, of course, but nothing makes me more giddy than comments. only if you want, of course, but if you're feeling shy, so don't be! i wanna hear your guys take on this. i have total tinkerbell syndrome, i need applause to LIVE. enjoy guys!

tagging — @babybluebex , @quinnypixie , @inourtownofhawkins , @musicoverall , @seatnights , @figmentofquinn , @birdysaturne, @tomhollandseyes , @notverywise , @live-love-be-unique , @shanalynnphotos , @mmunson86 , @haylaansmi , @cestpresqueparfait , @iaminlovewithdilfs , @anaofthebarricade , @wolfiescosplay , @ailathealternate , @maximus2354, @j0qw , @missonlypost , @stabthecrab , @hanavakiih , @mrsmunsonxquinn , @rhapsodicaesthete , @elain00 , @drawdownthem00n , @munson-enthusiast , @roset01 , @alyssaaaaa-r , @josephmunson99 , @munsonsgirl71 , @ariegoldhouse , @rainbowbubbles9 , @justheretoreadleavemealone , @muns0nslov3r , @bluegalaxyprime , @k-corbett , @eddiemunsonsrighttoe , @rememberwhen-it-rained , @thoughtsoftheantagonist , @pvssy-destroyer , @joescigarettes , @jasminearondottir , @joeqluver , @babybat-95

( note, some of you i tried to tag but your blog wouldn't show up, if anyone knows a fix for this, let me know! )

wanna be tagged? click here and like the masterlist!

It always strikes you as odd that a big wall of noise could drive you crazy anywhere else — except at a bar and grill. Then, it seems comforting, almost, the sounds of clinking glasses, laughter… The floating of bits of conversation slithering into your ear, heard, but not quite understood. There was an odd sense of comfort to it, the scents of food wafting in the air as well, which made you thankful for the food in front of you.

The food that was intended to be shared was most definitely not.

How annoying.

“Why are you guys sleeping on the loaded fries?” came your voice, after scarfing down yet another forkful and chased it with a coke. Looking at your friends, sticking to their own plates of mozzarella sticks and onion rings, you let out a laugh. “I’m gonna end up eating this whole damn plate and then hearing about me being greedy and not sharing, you know this.”

Your brows raised at your best friend and her fiancé, their dishes having been shared with each other, half and half. “I’m feeling like you’re putting me down for my love of fries with,” you paused, plucking a clean edged one, “...creamy nacho cheese sauce, bacon, scallions, and mm, sour cream.” Popping it into your mouth, you lean back in your seat, the sounds of the bar swirling around you, chuckling softly. “What gives?”

Jen, your best friend, rolled her eyes. “You think I don’t want some?”

“You haven’t reached at all for it, not commented on it, nothing, which is unusual for you, wench.”

“Oh, I want some. I want some so bad! But…” She leaned back, dipping her mozzarella stick in marinara, “I’m being good, and leaving your plate alone. No mooching food from the birthday girl, that’s my rule.”

Ah. Right. There was that. A smile stretched across your face as you watched her bite and pull the mozzarella stick away, impressed by the cheese pull. “How uncharacteristically kind of you.”

“It was my suggestion,” the male voice of Gerry piped up. “Trust me, she would have demolished it by now if I didn’t.” 

“It looks so good,” Jen concurred, shaking her head. “We’re getting one.” Dusting her hands together. “Gerry, we’re getting one and we’re splitting.”

Gerry raised his brows, “Meaning… I get a few and it’s mainly you.” 

“Obviously,” his fiancée let out, as if there was even a need to question it. 

You chuckled, feeling a bit brighter with your friends there. Jen and Gerry being more like a lifeline when you really needed it. And today? This weekend? You most definitely did. “What about we get some sliders, too? I still got… One panel later. The late panel, the spicy panel, so I gotta get my wit on high and I can’t do that if I’m hungry. And fries, as lovely as they are… Won’t cut it.” 

“How was it?” Jen asked, taking one of Gerry’s onion rings, dipped in ranch before taking a bite. 

“The signing?” Once she nodded, you let out a sigh, sinking back into your seat. “I… It was okay. I mean, it’s pretty awesome that people still read my books. Even bringing physical copies, I fucking love that, but…” A groan left you, tilting your head up toward the ceiling. “God, I wish I had something more substantial to say when they ask me when’s the next book coming out or…if I’m working on something. Instead of just putting on that forced smile and whipping out an upbeat, ‘we’ll see!’ I almost wanna admit I have nothing, but half-baked ideas and blank pages and I actually have no idea when or if that’s ever gonna change.” 

And that was the rub of it. The reason you had wished you skipped the convention this time around. You loved them, usually. Loved meeting your readers, talking and discussing the industry and process with your fellow writers — most of whom you admired and couldn’t believe they even knew you. But the fact you had nothing but your past books to draw from, no new content to share, it was starting to weigh heavily on you. Not feeling as active as you should be. You felt as if you were letting everyone down — and, oh yeah, it was your birthday. Nothing like a birthday to really hammer in the fact that more time has passed and nothing to show for it. 

You felt a heavy boot, the heel nudging your foot harshly enough to let out a soft cry. Furrowed brow lifted, narrowing your eyes at Gerry. “Ow. What the fuck, dude?” 

Brushing back his long, dark locks from his face, he leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him. “You know you’re going to do it, right?” he asked, eyeing you. “It’s not like you’re sitting around and doing nothing, you’re active. You come up with ideas — half baked, yeah, but they’re ideas. Do you know how many songs end up in the trash bin before I even play it for the other guys? So many. It’s the same thing, those half-written stories you scrap, there just hasn’t been a story that stuck, that’s worth reaching toward an end. It’ll come, it’s not like a hobby for you, we all know that. You just gotta remember that for yourself.” 

Jen looked impressed, smiling at Gerry, brushing her fingers through his hair. “He’s right, you know,” she added, looking at you. “C’mon, Wench, I know it’s been….”

“Two years,” you finish for her, brows rising. “It’s been two fucking years…” 

“Yeah, okay, it’s been two fucking years. It happens, okay? It doesn’t mean anything—”

Oh, God, you thought and instinct took over, leading you to stand up from the table, a quick, “Yup, I’m gonna get those fries and sliders, yeah? Another round of drinks?”

Jen looked at you, crossing her arms in front of her, tilting her head. “I fucking know you. This is a rough patch, a dry spell, things that are temporary…” Trying hard for you to listen, brows raised. “You got this.”

In your head, or at least in some small part, you knew she was right. That they both were right. It wasn’t just empty words being used to placate you; they knew you. Always honest with you, never were they the people that would bullshit you just to build you up and have nothing to back it up. Self-doubt was a bitch, though, and instead of taking it to heart, you took a deep breath, put on a smile and said, “We’ll see.” Pushing yourself away from the table, ignoring the furrowed brow on Jen, pointing to the glasses in front of them, “Another round, loaded fries and sliders.” 

With a sigh, she gave a nod, “Yeah, yeah that sounds good. This talk isn’t over, but I’ll let it slide for your birthday.”

You let out a laugh, giving a nod. “Very kind of you, Wench.” Smiling at them both, you turn toward the bar and head off. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she called out, leaning back in her seat. “Okay, what are we gonna do with her?”

Light colored eyes looked over at her, lifting his hand to gesture between them, “...this. What we’re doing now.”

Brows rose at that, challengingly at him. “...and that would be…?”

Giving her a shrug, he said, quite simply, “Being here. Encouraging…” Leaning over to her, equally as challenging as she was. “...but not forcing it.” 

A heavy sigh left your best friend's lips, knowing Gerry was right, but not liking it. “Yeah, okay,” she relented, eyeing your plate with a handful of fries, letting out a huff as she pulled the plate towards herself. She met Gerry’s raised brows, raising her own, “What? She’s getting more, this doesn’t count,” taking a forkful and into her mouth with a moan. “I knew it. So good.” 

He laughed, shaking his head, plucking one of his onion rings. 

It was crowded, it was summer, the tail end of it where it lingered longer than anyone would have liked and yearned for the fall — though pumpkin spice would be on everyone’s mind early anyway. The first day of the convention weekend, as well, made the bar crowded and buzzing with excitement from its patrons. There was some pity for those heavy in costume, the layers of clothing would not do well with the insistent heat, though you found yourself admiring the wardrobe anyway. Still, you were grateful for the summer attire of cut off jean shorts, a tank top and — a flannel shirt you wore open that was currently sitting at the back of your chair at your table with your friends. It was worn more for modesty’s sake during the afternoon when you were in work mode, but the heat of the weather and the people buzzing around you? Fuck modesty, you were hot. 

Your ankle boots were probably not the smartest choice, admittedly, and you hated cliches, however… They were your favorite pair, your cutest pair, and it was your birthday, so you wanted to indulge. Remarkably comfortable with the heel, thank the retail gods for padded cushions at the balls of your feet, but it did make getting across a room of crowded people…difficult. 

Twisting and turning to swerve and weave in between, your lips in a constant state of letting out sorry and excuse me, sorry, you started to curse at yourself for doing this on your own. Hindsight is a bitch like that, you’re finding. You smile helplessly as you pass by a couple, one dressed as Geralt of Rivia and Yennefer, quite notably, before turning and that’s when it happened. An uneven crack on the floor, just inches from the bar, and the toe of your treasured booties? Yeah, hit right smack into it, making your body lurch forward. The worst fear hitting you, much like the floor would be soon, you were going to eat it. You were going to fall and smack your head on the floor. Fuck. Fuck. In a crowd of people who, coincidentally, seemed to have parted because suddenly all you could feel was air. 

And then a strong pair of arms, steady hands and warm chest. 

Suddenly you weren’t meeting the floor but standing upright with unsteady feet still firmly on the ground. Strong hands were holding you along your waist, your hands gripping tight onto pair forearms, heart racing, mind reeling. Did that just happen? Jesus Christ. You leaned forward, plush against his chest. Very warm, broad shoulders, crisp linen buttoned shirt and… Smelling really good, not recognizing the scent, male cologne, sort of woodsy with a bit of citrus. A sharp contrast to the scent of lavender and vanilla of some off brand  perfume you got from Amazon. His scent, it even smelled of a big brand, expensive bottle, the ones you’d never bring yourself to buy yourself. But it smelled really good. 

“Shit, you okay?” came his voice, sounding warm yet concerned, but the accent was what you cling onto the most. As it always did when you heard an accent clearly not American. “You almost—”

“Yeah, yeah, that…” Your eyes widened, straightened your back, eyes flashing to his for a mere second before looking at the bar, brows raising. “Oh god, if I tripped… If I fell…” Taking a deep breath, realizing your earlier thought of hitting the floor was off the mark, in actuality… “Oh, I would have hit my head right smack at the edge. I would’ve died. I would have bled, it would have been such a mess around all these people, oh, that would’ve been embarrassing.”

He gave a snort, and if you looked up, you would have seen his brows raised and an amused smile stretch over his face. “...I… I’m not sure embarrassing would be quite the word. Traumatic, horrible, something along those lines, surely...”

But you shook your head, “No, no, if I were to die on my birthday, that would be an irony that I would be known forever about, and I can’t have that,” you ended with a soft laugh, bringing your eyes to his face, your savior, and you find him chuckling at that, lips stretched wider in a smile and eyes, a chocolate brown, twinkling with what you hope is amusement.

And that’s when you really look at him, the brown curls which on top sat his shades. Big, brown eyes, that chocolate brown looking at you with raised brows, scruffy beard making him seem more… You didn’t know what, but you liked it. “...fair point,” he conceded, letting out an airy laugh, giving a nod. “That… I still don’t know about it being embarrassing, but the irony, that, yeah, I could see that. Erm, happy birthday, glad I was here so we could avoid all that.”

“I…” You had escaped death, but realizing who had saved you from that death was making you a bit more insane in your head. Smiling wide, giving a nod, “Yeah, that… Um… Thank you, for that, that was… Kinda saved my life — No, you did save my life, there’s no kinda about it. I… Um…” A laugh erupted from your lips, shaking your head. “... Hi.”

He smiled wider, chuckling softly, “Hi.”

Licking your lips, you clear your throat, and… You’re cringing a bit, because you recognize him. You fully do. There was no real question about it, as you looked at him, you knew. But… There will always be a part of you that had to ask, that needed confirmation. So, you had to ask. “You’re um…” Nodding your head, “Y’know, from uh…”

He exhaled, giving a nod, giving you the impression that he’s been through this before. You hoped he wouldn’t be a dick about it. “Yup, yeah, that’s me.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool…” You paused, trying to suppress a laugh. “It would be… Really lame for me to whip out, ‘Glad you didn’t run away this time’, wouldn’t it?”

Chocolate brown eyes widened, lips twitching into a laugh you could tell he wanted to let out. “Oh, yes, that… That would have been awful and truly embarrassing, I’d allow the usage of the word to describe it. Definitely.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, nodding further, “Yeah, just what I thought.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t.”

“Good thing I didn’t.”

“Oh. So good.”

“So…” you let out, looking up at him, “Do I call you Joe or Joseph?”

“Erm…” He paused for a moment, furrowing his brow in thought, looking to seriously ponder on that. “Well…” His shoulders rose in a shrug, “I dunno. Erm… Whatever you want, I guess. Not… averse to either, honestly.” He let out a soft chuckle, “Dealer’s choice.”

“My choice? Cool, love that for me. Um…” Smacking your lips lightly, giving a decisive nod. “Well… I think Joseph works well — works for me, anyway…”

Giving a nod, he hummed, “I like Joseph. My mum calls me Joseph. So — Oh. Erm, not that you’re like my mum. I mean, not like… I dunno…” His brows furrowed, as if rethinking what had spilled from his mouth. “You don’t think it’s an insult, yeah, that I said you’re not like my mum? Or… Is it like… God, you seem lovely, just… Didn’t want you to think that I…” His brows furrowed further, seeming to confuse himself. “Trying not to say you’re beneath my mum in my standards or in my head, but also not wanting to seem like I think low of my mum or that I compare people to my mum on a daily basis, because god, that’s fucking weird, isn’t it…?” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Yeah, no, I’m…. I don’t know where I was going with that…”

Your smile widened with every word that fell from his lips, chuckling deep enough that your shoulders shook and enough to feel his fingers clench around your waist. “You’re cute. And sweet to not want to devalue your mom to an absolute stranger.’

He snorted at that, “God, like your brits bumbling, then?”

“Well,” you started, lifting your brows at him, “To be fair, that is how Hugh Grant started his career.”

It was his turn to raise his brows, a mockery of hope in his expression, “Are you saying that I could be the next Hugh Grant?”

“I mean…” you started, lips stretched the widest you could remember in a long time, “With those big chocolate button eyes, you definitely…maybe have the potential to be. I’m just saying!”

Those same chocolate button eyes widened at your words, your own eyes catching sight of his dimples as his own lips stretched just as wide as yours, a laugh bursting from those lips, “How do you know about my chocolate button eyes?” Raising a challenging brow, he leaned forward just a bit. “Have you been talking to my mum? Is this a set up? She’s been asking when I’m about to settle down…”

A laugh escaped you, “Are you saying I’m the type of girl your mum would want you to settle down with? I dunno, that’s kinda forward, we just met.”

There was something in his smile, those same brown eyes looking over at you as he gave in to a snicker, shaking his head, “No. Sorry, that is… You’re right, that would be insane, we just met. Under…quite…unique circumstances.” His brow furrowed, “Are you okay? Have I asked that already? Bit rude if I didn’t…”

“Yes, you did. Or… I think your words were, ‘Shit, you okay?’ which I understand to mean as a very British way to ask that very question.” You smiled, giving a nod. “You’re good. And…so am I.” Your hands give his arms a gentle squeeze. “Actually… I’m so good that… You could probably let go of me now.” In an attempt to take away any offense, you blurt out, “Not that it hasn’t been nice, being held by you like this, but um… Yeah, I’m… I’m good. My feet’s steady, so… You don’t… Y’know…have to keep holding me steady.”

“Oh. God, right, right,” he said immediately, his hands flying up and away from you. A smirk to his lips as he held out his hands, palms facing you, a boyish giggle leaving him. “That’s… Sorry, I didn’t even know that I was still…” Pocketing his hands, he let out a huff as he watched you settle and wrap your arms around yourself. “Well, there we go. Erm… I am glad you’re okay, that was…” He shook his head, “Yeah, that could’ve ended badly. I’m glad I was around, y’know, to prevent your very untimely demise.” You both shared a small laugh at that, but then he furrowed his brow, looking around in mild concern. “Really is maddening that… Despite being surrounded by so many people and none of them, not one person, went to help or even come to ask if you’re okay…”

“Oh, I did notice that, yeah,” you responded while looking around you, a small little offended glare in place. “Welcome to America, I guess. Bunch of rude fuckers. People’s phones would be out, recording my death and no doubt, I’d be all over everyone’s for you page via TikTok and so not in the way that would be welcomed.”

A light scoff left his lips, “Is there any other way on TikTok? I mean…” His shoulders raise in a shrug, “I dunno, I’m not on it, but it doesn’t seem quite appealing, does it?”

It was said so innocently, so casually, your lips stretching into a smile and eyes flickering with amusement. You could have fun with this, his statement sounding so… Almost boomer of him, despite the young age in comparison to actual boomers. Which only brought on further amusement in your eyes. “Not a fan?” starting off casually. Trying to ascertain how bad this could be.

“Well…” he started, brows raised a bit as his hand reached for the back of his head, scratching his neck. “Not that I ventured much into it, but…” He gave a shrug, “It’s just dances, isn’t it? Like I said. Not very appealing.”

You couldn’t help it. The roll of your eyes came immediately as did the laugh from your lips. “Oh, God, it is not all dancing. There’s so much more to it, it’s all sorts of things. All sorts of content from all kinds of creators. Actors doing skits, some they wrote, some they didn’t, or even just jumping on a trend that showcases their acting skills or recreations of famous scenes from movies, shows… Their interpretation of it, even if it’s lip synching, it’s them. Musicians showcasing their music by either remixing,” You paused a moment, raising your brows, letting out a soft laugh. “…which you know a lot about remixes, I’m sure…”

He gave a deep hum, giving a nod, “Yeah, yeah, more than I care for, admittedly…”

“Right, well, there’s that and singing, performing, either putting out a song or performing it live. Editors, doing video edits of either original material or… Or even video edits of their favorite shows, movies, actors… Artists? Speed drawing videos showing their skills and how a sketch turns to an actual fucking piece of art. Because not all artists can get their work in a gallery, but they can post a video on a platform that will literally show up on people’s screens,” a soft laugh escaping, and you saw how he smiled, tilting his head and looking at you as you spoke. “And then there’s cooking — you’re a foodie, right?”

“I…” he started, his smile growing as he gave a nod. “Yeah, yeah, I… I consider myself a foodie, sure. That’s on TikTok as well?”

Lips stretched across your face as you gave an earnest nod, “Yes. The good and the bad. Cooking food, sharing recipes, rating dishes or restaurants—shops, like… It’s such a tool for small businesses and in this fucked up economy, it’s so needed. And...” You hesitated a moment, before giving in to a reluctant nod, “It’s helped writers as well. Promoting their books, sharing their writing, connecting with readers and… You know, that stuff. And aside from content creators, the art of it, there’s simply fans of all of it, discussing all of it, connecting with others discussing it. I don’t know if you’ve considered that part but…” You let out a sigh, “Whether you grew up having to hide just things you like or never really recovering from the isolation we all felt during the start of the pandemic…” Shaking your head, “Connecting with others over things you love, or just even things or people you like… Without judgement, it’s so important. Also serving to just… Y’know, give yourself a voice. Not just about entertainment but… Just life and how it can knock you down. Pick you up. The fucked-up parts that traditional media is just never going to give you a chance to scream at the world, people on the app do. They’re given that chance, and they take it, and it’s great. And if you’re feeling down, there’s people that use the platform to pick you right up.”

Tilting his head, a bit, the corner of his lip let out a smirk, “So… Definitely not just dancing then?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “No, no, Mr. Quinn, not just dancing. And the fact that people are so quick to just boil it down to just dancing is… Not only ridiculous but fucking reductive. Yeah, it has some big downsides to it. Like any other form of social media, there’s toxicity and negative impacts and even people manipulating other people. A narrative that doesn’t align with the truth, but then —”

“That…is most social media.” His nose scrunched a bit, “Well… In the name of all transparency… Not just social media, but… Traditional media as well. Interviews and misquotes running amuck… I guess it’s not any better or worse.” His lips nudge to the side as his shoulders give in to a shrug. “I suppose I shouldn’t have downplayed it, especially since I didn’t know much about it… Until now, of course.” He looked at you with a smile, “You’re uh… You’re quite passionate, aren’t you?”

 Once again, you laughed, softly as the flash of your teeth showed in your smile. “Bit too much, huh? I, uh… I get like that, sometimes. A lot of people kinda reduce that to my assumed Latina temper flaring up. Or my spice. Y’know, quick to think it’s anger or me blowing a fuse and basically boiling it down to some… Perceived… I don’t know…” You were trying to find a neutral way to say it, to not sound like you were going to go on another tangent. But you were struggling.

But he seemed to understand, with the way his brown eyes took you in, taking a deep breath and let out a gentle smile. “I didn’t see a… I guess those people would say…” His lips in a light grimace, nose scrunching again, and brows furrowed. “…an angry woman…”

“…an angry Latina woman… That part’s important…”

“Right. So important… But… No, no. Not hot blooded or…flying off the handle…”

“Ready to grab a chancla and aim for the head…”

Lips twisting to a wide grin as a snicker left his lips, shaking his head, “No, no, none of that… Nothing as… I can only assume reductive or downright patronizing as all that.” Slipping his hands into his pockets of his jeans, he shrugged, “I just… I saw someone passionate about what she was talking about because… Well… I was belittling a whole platform. Very dismissive. Bit of a dick, actually, now that I think ‘bout it?” You both shared a laugh at that, “Erm… Which…” Lifting his hand over his heart, “I am sorry about… But even as you spoke, you… You were passionate because you cared. And… That’s such a good thing, y’know? You don’t…get a lot of that. A lot of caring and not like a bleeding heart kinda caring, it’s um…” Sucking in his breath, he shook his head, “I dunno. But just… Caring. I… I liked watching that, the whole thing.”

“You…” your brow arched, “You did? I… Thank you… So, not too much?”

Shaking his head, “No! Fuck, no. Nothing like that, absolutely no worries there. Almost makes me want to give it a chance — almost.” Reaching toward his back pocket, taking out a lighter and pack of cigarettes, “Oh, and fuck anyone that sees something like that and make you seem… Like a stereotype like that. I can’t… I can’t even imagine how fucking frustrating that is.” He chuckled, “Most of you, American lot, just think I’m adorable, or precious so…”

“Oh,” you started with a light chuckle. “Right, all baby girl and shit.”

His big brown eyes widened as his brows lifted, and an almost sorrowful look on his face. “Oh, God… No, they’re not… Not baby girl…” Letting out a sigh, looking at you in such dismay. “Surely not. No — Keery, maybe, but I—”

“Mm, afraid so. I think it’s the big brown doe eyes that gets the baby girl treatment.”

He huffed dramatically, puffing his cheeks as he did so, shaking his head. “Doe eyes? What, like Bambi eyes? Well, that’s… These damn chocolate button eyes… That’s disappointing. Well, no, it’s… It’s sweet I guess but…”

He furrowed his brow. “Baby girl? Really? I know the accent and the constant apologizing gets erm… Well, the whole, ‘oh, isn’t he precious?’ treatment, I get that, but…” He let out a sigh, leaning toward you. “I’m manly. Like clearly, I’m manly as hell.”

He watched as you handled that for about a split second before the snicker came rolling out of you.

His eyes widened as your eyes closed as you smiled wide, an actual laugh coming out. “Oi! No!” he let out, though you could hear the faintest trace of a chuckle in his tone. “Don’t laugh! You can’t be laughing at that, now. I am manly. I saved you, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry!” you let out, still fighting back some laughs. “I’m not questioning your manliness, I swear, but… It is a little precious you’re so offended at the baby girl thing.”

He huffed out a laugh, teeth biting at the corner of his lower lip. “Well, not so much offended but… I dunno. Not exactly cool, is it? Not very impressive to be known as… Baby girl or… Being thought of… I’m a grown man.”

“No, no, I get that…” you relent, laughter subsiding, your eyes trailing over him. Part of you not quite believing it’s him, but the fact that Joseph Quinn was looking at you and not only that, was engaging in conversation, was ridiculous. But not unwelcomed. “Well, if it means anything, you are…deceptively buff, which is sort of making me question things.”

His grin was dangerous as he looked at you, eyes trailing towards his arms, the bicep mostly. You couldn’t help but notice the almost overly pleased look on his face as he went, “Yeah? Impressed, yeah? By the pythons?”

“Oh, god, okay…” You’re pleased that he snickers at his own words, “No one said anything about pythons. Let’s tone it down a little, but yes. I dunno, I guess with Eddie, I just thought you were…”

“Skinnier?” he supplied, allowing you to nod. “Fair. I mean, I was. Went on…a not fun diet to lose that weight and…” He gave a shrug, a chuckle escaping him. “Two years of my fucking life and I loved doing it, but erm…” He nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, like being able to eat what I want nowadays,” letting out a soft groan, “Which… I’m really taking advantage these days. Especially here, at this place, the food—”

“Shit!” you let out, surprising you both. “Fuck. I was coming over here to order more food for my table.” Surprised that Jen and Gerry didn’t come looking for you, though you supposed your plate of fries were demolished by now. “Completely forgot. That’s…”

“Oh, you’re with someone?” he asked, and if your mind wasn’t hazy, you would have detected the slightly disappointed tone in his voice. His eyes flickering over you, cautious. “Like….?”

“My friends— Best friends, in fact. Who are…probably pissed I’m taking so long.” He seemed to relax at that, almost looking relieved, an observation you didn’t put much thought to, turning toward the counter, making eye contact with the bartender. “Hey! Plate of loaded fries, beef sliders and two cokes and one sparkling water with lime, please?” The bartender giving you a nod, making you heave a sigh of relief. “Can’t believe I flaked about that; it was literally the only reason I came over here.”

“Well, to be fair, you did almost die,” he let out, smiling a bit and lighting up his cigarette, finally, it seemed. Taking a deep inhale, smoke flew past his lips, away from you. “I’m sure they’ll understand and at least you didn’t forget completely.” Pausing a moment, he lifted his pack of cigarettes, “Sorry, do you…?”

“No, no, I don’t,” you watched as he froze, holding his cigarette in front of his lips and the familiar look of guilt on his face. “Oh, but you can, I’m not… I’m not bothered by it if you do. Seriously, I’m not gonna go into the dangers of smoking.” With a soft smile, you added, “You’re a grown man, after all. A manly man.”

He snorted, “Fuck off.”

“Aw! So precious.”

Joseph’s grin stretched further, his brown eyes looking at you with a spark of amusement though he tried his best to look stern. Taking a drag of the cigarette, blowing away from you. “You’re funny.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Well, because you are.” His shoulders giving you a little shrug, “It’s good. I…” A soft laugh exhaled from him, “I’ve genuinely been enjoying myself, so… Thank you for that.”

It genuinely made you smile, hearing that, digging into your wallet for your card, smiling still as you tapped it on the POS device laid in front of you. Using your finger for your digital signature, you paused after, turning your eyes back at him. “… Actually… Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, yeah,” he said, taking another drag, brown eyes all on you.

They really were like big doe eyes.

A smile on your face, you cleared your throat, licking your lips. “It’s just, um… Well, when I fell, it… It was kinda sudden, obviously, generally how falls go.”

He’s smiling, now, which, fuck him for doing that.

“And… It was pretty lucky that you caught me…”

Oh, there was something that flashed in his eyes, then. Which was interesting, in your mind. Not something you could decipher right away, though. Concern? No…

“I’m just… In a room full of people that straight did not even flinch at a woman tripping over… You reacted really quickly.” He was holding his breath, the only way you could really tell was the smoke lingering from within, before he exhaled, once more, away from you. “Were you like, heading toward the opposite direction and just — bam! There I went, or…?”

You watched as Joe took a deep breath, tongue poking out and licking his lips. “Erm…” he started, almost sheepishly. There was something in the way he wouldn’t look at your eyes, almost guiltily. “…something…like that…”

Raising your brows, those little words brought forth this curiosity clawing from within you. “…something like that?”

“Yup,” he gave you, popping that p for emphasis, giving a nod. “Definitely…” His eyes wandered, flickering toward you, just for a fraction of a second. “…something like that.”

The thing was… When his eyes flickered over to you just then… It wasn’t at your eyes, or your face… But… Somewhere a bit…lower than that… It was so quick, though, but the way he stood there in front of you, so different than moments earlier where it was calm and easy. Just casual and nice and now, fingers tapping at his hip and when his eyes did meet yours. His big chocolate button eyes seemed bigger.

Almost pleading. That’s when you knew.

Lips quirked into a smile, eyes lighting up. A surge of giddiness bubbled within the pit of your stomach and was quickly spreading throughout your body. Oh, this was good. This was too good. The summer’s favorite white boy, the one, quite ironically, dominating everyone’s TikTok’s for you pages, the one everyone was swooning over… He…

 “…oh my god.”

“I… No, that’s… I was…”

“…you were looking at my boobs.”

He scoffed, taking a step back and eyes wide. As if he was offended at the accusation. Which was fair, anyone that was called outright like you were doing would go for the offended defense. “I…” he started, his hand gripping at the edge of the bar’s counter, his other hand raised, forefinger pointed toward you. “I…” he repeated, his words halted as he brought his cigarette for one more drag before it went toward the ashtray, extinguished. “That… What I was doing was…”

“Oh, tell me,” you let out, arms crossed in front of you, over your stomach, purposefully giving your cleavage a bit more of a boost. “Tell me what you were doing?”

“I, well,” he said with a little nod. His eyes trained on your own, willing himself not to look down. “I’ll tell you, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“Okay. Cool. Let’s hear it. Love to hear it.”

“Well, we’re gonna. Yeah.” You chuckled, and he wanted to, but only cleared his throat, “Shut up, you see…” A momentary grin on his lips. Slowly, he pointed toward himself, “I… Right? Yeah. I was having a drink, right? Yeah, I was. And then, I was trying to meet up with a mate, so… I was going to go outside and… Y’know, text or call him.”

“Right,” you let out, giving a nod. “It’s so noisy here, so yeah, that makes sense.”

“Yeah! Right,” he said, brows raised. “Far too noisy, at least for a call. So, outside,” leaning toward the counter, his palm flat on the top of it. “So, getting off the stool, going about strolling toward the exit, yeah? And…” he snapped his fingers, “And then you come strolling toward the bar, and… Well…”

“…you saw my boobs.”

His lips stretched, teeth biting at the corner of his lip, refusing to look at you before letting out a, “…. stop saying that!” quite exasperatedly.

Which only made you laugh, and not kindly. Almost a cackle which only broke the dam as it were with Joseph, because his laugh came tumbling down.

“Am I wrong?” you let out in between the giggling — yes, you were giggling with this man. “I mean, it’s okay! It’s okay if you were! No judgement.”

He let out a groan, facing toward the counter and laid his head in his arms on top of it. Quite dramatically. Comically, which only made you chuckle more.

“Honestly, I’m not even offended by it.”

“God, you should be.” His voice slightly muffled, his hands resting at the back of his head, interlocking together. “…it’s not… It’s not like I make a habit of it—”

“I was just a special case? Aw!” You heard him groan, delving further into his arms and hands grasping each other tighter. “No, really, I’m honored that in place as crowded as this, my tits are the ones that stand out — well, not cold enough to stand out — but,” you let out a soft laugh at yourself and even amongst the music and the chatter, you swore you heard him chuckle, too.

“..it’s actually…kinda flattering.” Looking down at your chest, taking a deep breath to see your cleavage heave, chuckling a bit. “Makes me feel very Blanche Deveraux,” you add, putting on a very questionable Southern accent as close to the golden girl herself,” …like my breasts have the power to make music!” Your regular voice coming back as you finished, “It’s thrilling.”

He soon lifted his head from the counter, looking over at you with a furrowed brow. “…I feel like I’m supposed to know that reference, but I don’t…” Your brows shot up at that and it was well noted by him as he added, “….ah. And I should know that, I’m assuming. It’s upsetting you that I don’t.”

It was. Well, kind of. More shocked than anything, and it showed. “Do you…? Are you saying that you… You’ve never seen Golden Girls?”

“…oh,” he uttered softly, his back straightening. “I mean, I’ve heard of it. Kind of? Erm, like uh… Well, mostly heard of Betty White, like obviously. But not quite… Never really… Sat down and watched it—oh,” he reacted to how wide your eyes got at that, and the way your lips parted. “Oh, we’re very cross about that, are we?”

“I — yes! Very! You’ve — oh, that’s bad. You should fix that as soon as possible, Mr. Quinn. Because yeah, it’s gonna bug me until you do. Not that I’d know, but still…”

A snort left him, grinning from ear to ear, no doubt with how ridiculous you sounded. But it was worth it, at least you got to see those big doe eyes again. “I can tell it bothers you, so…” He shook his head with a chuckle, “I’ll erm… I’ll try and put it on the books, yeah? Just for you, though.”

“I mean… It’ll be more for your benefit than mine. No, seriously, we’ll probably never meet again but you will thank me, I’m sure of it.”

Taking a deep breath, he let out a soft hum, “Mmhm, I’m sure of it. I trust you. So… I’m guessing one of them has a…. Southern accent? That… That was what you were attempting, right?”

Dramatically placing a hand over your heart, you busted the accent out once again. “I do declare, Mister Quinn, are you doubtin’ my impeccable imitation of the great and late Blanche Elizabeth Deveraux, initials spelling B.E.D? Oh, fiddly-dee.” You saw his smile growing wider at every word that left your lips until it broke out in a laugh. “Hey!” you let out, laughing as well, “We’re not all Master of Accents like you clearly are, buddy. Some of us are scrambling without that fancy schooling.”

“Oh, no,” he bemoaned through a laugh, “…you saw that, did you?”

“Oh, yeah,” you let out gleefully. “That was… A tour de force. I… It was the Liverpool one that did it for me…”

“Hey. Oi. Like I said on there, mm? My mum is from Liverpool and….” His lips twitching into a smile, nodding his head, “…sounds just like that.”

“Yeah… You really shouldn’t be disrespecting your mum like that. Just… Just doing her wrong.” You laughed a little, licking her lips, “No, no, it was…” nodding slightly, “No, it was really good. You were very…charming, actually. Especially for your first talk show appearance. I mean, it was Fallon, but you made it work. I’m pretty sure you got more fans out of it. You did…. You did really good.”

The way he smiled struck you, and there was a softness in his eyes you weren’t expecting, either. You’d expected him to be showered on dozens of praise and accolades for his role of Eddie Munson, which would be richly deserved. But there he was, standing there as if your words were the first he ever heard. “That… Thank you,” he let out with an impish sort of smile. “That means a lot, actually.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he let out a sigh of relief. “So, not embarrassing, then? The accent bit was really rough.”

“Oh, yeah, you um…” you chuckled, “You had the uh… Red face thing going on through it.”

His face fell at that, “Oh, don’t tell me that. You’re joking, yeah? Like… Not…” Your lips stretched out in a smile which only made him let out a soft laugh. “I wasn’t that obvious, was I? Really?”

A snort left you, shrugging your shoulders, “I mean… It wasn’t like… Okay, maybe your ears got a little red, too,” you paused as a bark of a laugh escaped him, the sight of him covering his mouth with his hand almost sent you into a fit of giggles yourself. “Which was kinda a dead giveaway.”

“What? N—” shaking his head bewildered, a whiplash of emotions crossing his features, yet the smile was still there, still wide. “I… What? What do you mean dead giveaway?! I don’t have—my ears?!”

“Oh, god, you’re cute. Do you not know?”

“Yeah. Right. Fucking adorable, and no?! No, I don’t… What… Do I….” he furrowed his brows, a hand reaching toward his ears, feeling them a bit. “…people noticed my ears get red?”

“Howards End,” you let out as if it was easily explained, and by the look on his face, it was. “The kissing scene.”

Oh, he looked like a boy on Christmas. A laugh erupted from his lips and eyes wide, “Howards End?!” he let out, his voice pitched, and then making a quick recovery with a clearing of his throat. Crossing his arms, though his eyes remained wide as he gave a nod, “Howards End. You saw Howards End? I was in that.” You snorted, and he closed his eyes, brows furrowed. “Right, yeah, you know that already,” he chuckled, opening his eyes once more to look at that. “So… So… You watched Howards End.”

“Are you like… Are you surprised? Yeah. Yeah, I saw Howards End but I’m not gonna discuss it because I’ll just get angry.”

“Oh, really?”

“God, yes,” you respond, taking a deep breath, “Eat the fucking rich, that’s… That’s what I got out of it. Was that not the main theme? Oh, and justice for Leonard Bast.”

He giggled at that, actually giggled which, God… You wish you didn’t find it downright adorable. Shaking his head, running his hand through his hair and grabbing his shades in the process, “Sorry, sorry, that’s just… That’s mad I’m only really used to my past work, y’know, mentioned through like… Bullshit networking and the like, not genuinely — So, red ears, got it.”

Your brows furrowed, “Wait… No, don’t buy it.” He looked at you confused, prompting you to explain. “Come on, I mean, it’s not like it’s totally obscure and like… You have a few things under your belt, I mean… People had to have mentioned your other stuff. I know everyone’s all… It’s all about Eddie Munson right now, I mean, the photo of you as Eddie with the horns and tongue is plastered all over the con, but… I mean… People have seen your other stuff. I know they have; I’ve seen people talk about your other stuff so, no, I don’t buy it.”

He tilted his head, raising his shoulders in a shrug, “I mean, yeah, but… I dunno, it’s just… Just sort of feels like they’re just being nice about it. But much of the time… Yeah, yeah, they’re…” He smiled, shaking his head, “It’s…. all about Eddie. Which is great!” he ended, holding his hand up. “I mean, it’s mad, but… I get it, he…” A bewildered laugh escaped him. “It’s…kinda special, hearing about… The other roles. I dunno, still getting used to it?” He shrugged, “I dunno. But erm, thank you, erm… Not sure for what, for… I guess…” He snorted, “Watching Howards End, I suppose. And angry on Leonard Bast’s behalf. Um…” With an amused expression, he raised his brows, “Not a nice ending for him.”

“If I think about it hard enough, I go in a rage, so, no,” the both of you chuckling at that. “Not nice, no.” Licking your lips, you can’t help but ask, “So… How’s it going, then? The whole… Madness of all the attention suddenly on you? How are they treating you?”

“Oh,” he let out, a sense of surprise in his tone, brows raising a bit. “Erm… Yeah, no, yeah, it’s been great.” Nodding a bit, letting out a soft laugh. “Yeah, no, it’s been good, bit new to it but, yeah, no. It’s been lovely, actually. So… Yeah, great.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yup,” he said, popping the p. “Really, really great. Really. Good fun and… Yeah,” nodding with a smirk. “Been awesome.”

You smile at that, crossing your arms in front of you. “Oh, it’s been awesome.”

“Yeah.”

“Uh huh… Tell me that one more time and I’ll believe you.”

He snorted at that, hands going into his pockets. “I… It has been…” The longer he looked at you, at your face, you could see his face cracking. A broad grin stretched along his face as his eyes lifted toward the ceiling and he let out a groan. “Oh, god, why do I wanna be honest with you, that can’t be good…”

You chuckled a bit, “I got one of those faces, I guess… No, really, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, but if you do… I promise, it stays between us. I mean, look at me, I have an honest face, it goes both ways.”

Taking a deep breath, he scratched the side of his neck. “Okay… Okay, well… Erm… It’s… Different?” His lips stretched tightly. “It’s mad, y’know, like I said. But… I’m enjoying it. Y’know, enjoy meeting so many people and… having that much of an impact, it’s… It’s um…”

“…a lot.”

“Oh, god, it’s so much more than I thought when I signed on,” he let out in a relieved tone. “Yeah, it’s exciting. Being in the business for as long as I have and never experiencing anything like this, I…” He let out a breath. “It’s fuckin’ amazing and… It’s not anything I’ve experienced before. I… Usually I just do a job and then I go home and maybe it shows up on the telly or on a screen, maybe, but…” He shook his head, looking at you. “Nothing like this — my face is plastered everywhere and… Yes, it’s exciting and I am loving it, don’t get me wrong — God, it feels weird saying this I don’t even…” He licked his lips, “It’s… It’s an adjustment, I guess. But I’m learning, so, that’s… That’s good, isn’t it?”

You nodded, offering a shrug, “Best you can do, really.” You watched as he gave a nod. “And I get it… I mean… It must be such a mind fuck. They talk about break out roles but, you don’t really have any clue how real that is until… I guess… It happens. And it definitely happened with you and… It’s a lot. It must be. I, personally, didn’t even know you existed a few months ago,” you ended with a laugh.

He snorted at that, “Oh, cheers! That’s… That’s lovely.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not just me, so… Saying that, like…” You paused, taking a deep breath. “Do I say this on the risk of inflating your ego…”

“Yes,” came the immediate response. “Please, I’m very needy with praise and I… Kinda… Said way too much already, so… I would appreciate it beyond words. Praise me.”

Grinning a bit, you shook your head, “For someone that hasn’t watched Golden Girls, you are giving Blanche vibes right now…”

“I… Sure, why not?”

Chuckling a bit, you leaned against the counter, looking over at him. “…if anyone deserved a breakout role, it’s you.”

His brows shot up at that, which made you smile.

“I’ve seen your other stuff, two of which before I even watched Stranger Things, by the way.”

Oh, his brows shot wide up at that, and you rolled your eyes as he propped his arm on the counter, resting his chin within the palm of his hand.

“In fact… Oh, God… Okay… I might have started watching Stranger Things because… I… I was impressed with your acting in…two of your works…”

“You did not.” His voice disbelieving to say the least, making you laugh, though he carried on. “That’s — No, no, no, that ridiculous you did not… C’mon, you’re taking the piss now.”

“I’m not! I’m serious. I didn’t even go looking for it, I was just binging and bam, there you were, the stranger things guy with the hair! I swear,” placing your hand over your heart. “Cross my heart and all that. It was like… Kismet or some shit.”

A hearty laugh came out of him, eyes practically wide as saucers. “Oh my god, that’s… That’s so funny… What… What two shows…?”

“Catherine the Great,” you listed off, lips scrunched to the side, “Mm, Prince Paul was…. I mean… At the time was… It was okay,” he snorted at that, nodding a bit. “But, y’know, I’ve kinda warmed up to Paul since then, but it was good and I was like, okay, not bad.”

“That seems to be the general impression I give off, yeah.”

“Shut up,” you fired back with a laugh. “But then… I kept going through my binge and I came across a series named Strike. Or, C.B. Strike here in the states, which is weird, I know, but… It seemed interesting so I got into it.” You smiled, “And then the second season came and… Wouldn’t you know? It’s that guy again.”

“Loving it.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t know if it’s because I saw you in Catherine the Great first or whatever, but, as soon as you popped on the screen…?” A breathless laugh escaped you, remembering the moment as you shook your head. “It was… Different. And… Honestly, your whole performance was just…” Looking up at him with a smile, “You were amazing. Like… I was really watching… Acting, you know? I mean, obviously, yes, I was, but… Really… Seeing it in action, like… I don’t know. Not like I’m an expert but, it was just really… Captivating and… I couldn’t look away. I was… I was in complete awe of you.”

His grand smiles were gone, the broad grins as well, but there was something a bit softer that replaced it. A look of genuine awe in his eyes as he looked at you. You expected some quip of self-deprecation, but he was staring at you in silence for a moment, and suddenly his smile grew. Threatening to claim his entire face as he let out a huff of a laugh. “Sorry, that was… Erm… Fuck. I don’t even get that kinda feedback from my mum,” he tried to cover with a laugh, though his gaze at you seems a bit dazed. Fingers scratching at the scruff of his cheek. “I… Yeah, I put a lot of work on Billy, that… It wasn’t a lead role or all that meaty a role, but… Seems to have put on an impression on some and…” He nodded a bit, smile still in place. “It’s very sweet and… I’m glad it did. Thank you, really.”

It touched you that your words seemed to touch him, making you smile. “Well, no, it wasn’t the lead role or anything but… It was meaningful. And if it was any other actor, it wouldn’t be. You got talent, something I’m sure has been said over and over to you, but—”

“I’m very needy so even if it was, I wouldn’t get tired of hearing it.”

“Yeah, well, you are an actor, so that tracks,” you joked, making him laugh a bit, leaning back on his seat. “But yeah, I was so impressed that I binged the whole show, just to see you in action in the role so many fell in love with. And I… I thought it wouldn’t be so bad. Since, you know, I already knew he’d die at the end, so I was like, not gonna love him. Won’t hurt as much, right? Yeah… Did not make it past the cafeteria scene, so…”

“Oh, you like them obnoxious, then.”

“Hey, you call him obnoxious, I call him dramatic and yes, I fucking love dramatic men, but, only if they make me laugh.”

He seemed to take keen interest in that. “So, you like your men more dramatic or funny?”

Letting out a hum, you considered that. There was a key difference there, you knew. “I guess out of the two… I’d have to go with funny. I’d rather laugh than be frustrated because some guy couldn’t act right or be chill about things. Anything is pretty much forgivable if the person makes me laugh. Means we’re having a good time.”

He nodded a that, though you shook your head, “Anyway, my original point — You’re very talented, and that’s coming from someone that didn’t even knew your name not even three months ago and… Your acting, it should be recognized, you put in a lot of work with your portrayals, and it shows and… I’m glad you’re having your breakout moment. I really am… And you should enjoy it. All of it.”

He smiled at that, another one of those gentle smiles that made his eyes shine, you swore it did. “That’s… Thank you. I really do appreciate that. More than you know, really. And I am! I’m enjoying it. Still a bit mad, but… I’m enjoying it, I promise.”

“Good… I’m glad of that.” Taking a deep breath, you looked around. “How many cons have you done so far?”

“Oh… Erm… God, I think… This is my third one? Still a bit green…”

“Well, I’m a bit more seasoned than you, so,” you huff out a soft chuckle. “Make sure you’re hydrated, like seriously, even if the water’s warm, just take it if it’s offered by the staff. Same with food, though if you can hit someplace outside of what the staff provide… Do it. I mean, what they give you is good enough but… If you want to enjoy your time, it helps. Also? Snacks. Snacks are so important; you have no idea. If you can’t get a full meal and your breaks aren’t cutting it? Get you some snacks. Obviously not ones that need refrigeration and shit, but like, a little trail mix, if you wanna be healthy. Uh... Some chips or…crisps, whatever. I’m a sucker for chocolate myself. Or cookies. Sweets, it’s not…. healthy but, god, makes the day worth it. Also? Do not skimp on your breaks. I know the temptation to skip them comes but like… You, Mr. Popular, have a lot of folks coming just for you. I walked through the convention earlier and there’s a sea of Hellfire shirts all around,” you chuckled. “You need your breaks.”

“You’re adorable,” he let out, and it wasn’t clear if he meant to say it or not, but he was smiling throughout your little guide to surviving a con. “You’re actually giving me advice, that’s… Very helpful, yeah, but… Also… You’re adorable.”

Your brows lifted, “Adorable?” Scoffing lightly. “Adorable. Really?” Holding your hand up, you added, “Hey, this is sound advice, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, it sounds it! I’m not disputing that, no, no, it’s really good advice and all that, it’s just,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “Sorry, just erm…” He shrugged, “I dunno! It’s… It’s sweet… Y’know, telling me all that. Which I’ll take to heart, absolutely. It is sound advice.” He winked, actually winked at you with a smile, “Thanks for looking out for me.”

He dared to call your advice adorable, but the wink he gave? That was adorable, making your lips twitch with a wider smile than you intend to let out. “Yeah, well…” Lips pursed together as you made a side glance toward nothing at all, just away from him. “You did save me, so… The least I can do to help make this con better for you.” Taking a breath, “Even though you only really saved me because you were being a big ol’ perv.”

“Oi,” he interjected with his big brown eyes wide, though any offense to your words were quickly dispelled with a laugh that breathed past his lips. “No, that… That is only because… You…. You got tits that make music or…whatever the fuck you said in that… Questionable accent.”

You felt bold at that, emitting a gasp and actually laid a hand on him. Not because you were falling, and he was there. Because you wanted to, it felt the most natural thing in the world to take your hand and smack his arm just like that.

And he, it seemed, felt natural enough for him to put on a wince, pull the struck shoulder back, his face a complete mockery of a pained expression as he let out an exaggerated, “Ow.”

“Shut up, that did not hurt.”

“Ahhh,” he exaggerated, rubbing where you had struck him. “Tell that to my arm, that’s going to be a bruise — Netflix is going to have a word with you about that.”

“Okay, well, it was in defense of my superior Blanche impression and big words from the man that attempted a Scottish accent, the supreme of accents by the way and ended up lisping it—” you ended with a laugh only to join his when a figure was seen out of the corner of your eye.

Turning it, you saw a young woman standing there, staring at the both of you. “Oh, hey, sorry am I blocking you from the bar or…?”

“Oh… Uh… No, I just… Um…” She was gripping something in her hand, looking from you to Joseph who had straightened up and offered a smile. “Oh. Oh, wow. I… Hi.”

“Hi, how are you?” he pushed out with a gentle smile, and a voice even gentler. Different than what you were hearing in your conversation. His eyes were on her, looking directly at her, into her eyes as if she was the only one in the room. “Enjoying yourself, darling?”

It amused you.

This was him in work mode, you realized, as you leaned back and looked on. The girl seemed taken by him, of course. How could anyone not? He was good, especially for someone so green in these sorts of affairs.

“I… Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m having a great time. Are… Are you…? Having a great time….?”

He smiled brightly, and you swore you saw his eyes light up. “I’m doing absolutely lovely, my dear.” The woman between the two of you looked absolutely starstruck, gripping on the hardcover book she had in her hands — … wait.

You knew that book.

Your eyes peering at the cover, eyes widened as if viewing an old friend… Because, as it turned out, you were. “That’s my first book.”

It was as if you broke his spell and her bright eyes looked away from him and straight toward you, a brighter smile on her face. “Oh! Yeah! Sorry, I…” Turning her attention to Joe, her smile turned sheepish. Embarrassed, even. “I just um… I wasn’t expecting you, when… When I was coming over I just…” She gave a shrug, “I only saw her —” And with a turn towards you, she clarified, “You. Um… This is going to sound really… Like… Stalker-y? It’s not! I swear it’s not —”

“To be fair that’s what most stalkers would say but go on…” you replied cautiously.

She let out a laugh, “God, I know. Sorry, it’s just… The prices for the con went up and like… It was just too much for me to buy tickets? But um… I knew this was the closest bar and it’s not like I came specifically in case you happened to come in, I’m out with my friends, we were gonna be in the area and its good food but on the off chance you did…” She held out the book towards you, “…could I…. I mean, could you… sign it?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Joseph raise his brows in surprise and confusion — but a bit of amusement there, too. Not like he was upset to be slightly upstaged now, but a bit surprised. You could practically see his big brown eyes taking in your name on the cover, only causing his eyes to grow wider if even possible. This didn’t really happen a lot to you, not before your TikTok took off and there was a face to the name. Your smile stretched wide, and you took hold of a copy of your first of your series, nostalgia hitting you and remembering how excited you were to hold the very first copy as given to you by your publisher all those years ago.

That was a different you, then. Excited. Mind brimming with ideas and plots and characters to take the reader for a whirlwind adventure of romance and unabashed sex. Your smile turned wistful as you looked at your main heroine, or the silhouette of her, she was still abstract, except for in your words. You remembered it was important, for readers to have an idea of what she looked like, tickled by the thought of a version of your heroine would be born in every readers’ head. Never quite the same, always a bit unique and different, a bit of themselves in her while reading of her story, of her life. That was important to you.

Your eyes lifted from the book, your book, and to the woman that placed it in your hands. Taking a deep breath, lifting your brows, you went, “So… You couldn’t afford to meet me in the convention at my table, so you decided to come here on the off chance I was here and get your book signed for free?”

Oh, the look on her face. You couldn’t keep it up even if you tried.

“I respect it, that’s really smart, actually… Good on you, I’d do the exact same thing,” you smiled as you saw the relief flooding her face. “Yeah, of course, god, it’s been forever since I’ve even seen this edition…” You smiled, observing the book, “Oh, nice, this is well worn down, the spine’s definitely taken a beating.”

She laughed, giving a nod, “Yeah, it’s… It’s honestly my favorite. I love the rest of the series but… The first one’s just… It’s special to me. It’s just the start of everything and like… I loved the emotions when I read it for the first time and it’s nice to remember that sometimes… Does that sound weird?”

“God, no, absolutely not. That’s…really fucking flattering, actually… Uh, I don’t have a pen or Sharpie with me, do you…?”

A silver Sharpie was produced in front of you with her eager hand, chuckling as you took it, “Thanks,” opening the book and to the first blank page.

“What’s your name?” Hearing it, you gave a nod, scribbling in your neatest handwriting the name and a little personalized message with your signature. Smiling broadly, you handed the book and marker with her, “There you go, thanks for reading, it honestly… It means a lot; you guys don’t even know.”

“Oh my God… Please, thank you for…” She shook her head, “Thank you,” taking a moment to read what you wrote, and the smile on her face was well worth it as she closed it gently and held it against her chest. “I am sorry I couldn’t make it into the actual convention, though…”

“No, it’s expensive, I totally get it. If I wasn’t invited, I probably wouldn't bother. It’s cool you thought of this, though. Even if it…” You gave a light shrug, “…It… It is a bit stalker-y but just a little bit,” raising your hand and showing just how little with your thumb and forefinger. “Just a bit.” You both chuckled, “But no, it’s totally lovely to meet you. I’m glad you got the book signed despite the struggle over the wallet being very real. Have a great night, okay?”

“Thanks,” she smiled, turning around but stopping, making a sharp turn, “Oh, and happy birthday! I saw your latest TikTok, kinda cool to celebrate the weekend at the con, right?”

“TikTok,” you heard Joseph let out as he sat back, arms crossed looking between the two of you. “…you have a TikTok.”

Your lips stretched wide as you fought the urge to not roll your eyes. “I do have a TikTok. A very handy one that reaches a lot of people that would maybe help in getting my work out there and voice heard.”

“Ah, well, I did hear it’s very good for that sort of thing.”

“Oh, it’s great,” she said, not quite getting what you and Joe were talking about. “I loved the readings you do from the past books and the stuff with Jen and sometimes Gerry and… Yeah, it’s great. Um… Though… Are you thinking about the next book?” She winced at herself, “Sorry, is that like… You’ve probably been asked that before.”

Oh, she had no idea....

“…it’s a popular one, yeah… There are thoughts and ideas, for sure. Work in progress, you know how those things are. But I don’t have a definite date yet. So…” Oh, God. You put on a smile, and a nod, “We’ll see.”

“Awesome,” she let out, and then, nervously, looking at Joseph. “…would I be pushing my luck if I asked for a pic?” Her smile turning nervous, “I… I really loved Eddie, um. I cried when he died… You were so good; I really hope you come back next season.”

It was amazing to see the switch come on, a smile that was broad but still polite, almost guarded came over his face, a gentle gaze thrown at her. “Thank you, that’s very sweet of you to say. It’s lovely how much you all seem to welcome Eddie and I’m so thankful for that. I…” he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head, “I honestly don’t know about next season, erm… I haven’t heard anything yet but…” He gave a shrug, taking a quick glance at you, a smile twitching at his lips as he turned to her and said, “We’ll see. And no, you’re not pushing your luck at all, I’d love to take a selfie with you.”

From the look of her face, it almost seemed like Christmas, watching as they posed together, Joseph holding up the camera and waiting for the perfect shot before he took it. Handing her phone over back to her, she suddenly looked at you with that same nervous look to her. Making you chuckle and giving a nod, taking her phone and taking a picture with her as well.

Soon, she turned and left the both of you alone together once again.

As alone as two people in a crowded bar could be, anyway.

But as he looked at you, a cocky smile spread over his face, raising his brows, chuckling low. “So,” he started, a toothy grin across his face. “You’re a writer.”

The smile on your face was wide, brimming with your amusement as you gave a nod. “… Yes, I am a writer.”

Crossing his arms in front of him, he let out a soft laugh. “I… I had no idea.”

You gave a shrug, “I mean… How could you? Not like I’m out here with a big old fashioned, 1920’s typewriter strapped to my back or anything.”

He snorted at that, teeth flashing in his smile, giving in to a nod. “No, you’re definitely not… I suppose… The advice you gave me about being at these conventions… Not as an attendee, then.”

A laugh escaped you, a gentle shake of your head given as you look at him. “…no, definitely not. Just part of the Con hustle like you — well, not just like you. I mean, you actors get a lot more action than we pitiful authors ever will…”

Oh, his brows shot up so fast at that, eyes wide — almost as wide as his mouth as they spread into the broadest smile you had ever seen on a person. A spluttering laugh escaping him, “Oh? Us actors? Really? You’re going with that?”

“Oh, you’re gonna deny it? We can go back to that convention center, if you want, and see how many pictures of you are plastered all over and see if it’s in the double digits.”

“Oh,” his brows furrowed, looking quite discontent at the mere suggestion of that. “Oh, fine, you win, just… Please, please, let’s not, yeah?” A small, breathy laugh slipped from him. “I’m pretty sure that picture will then just burn into your brain and that’s all you’d think at the mention of me and — no, no, no, no, don’t want that.”

Lips twitching into a smile you were trying to hold back, giving an understanding nod. “Mm, yeah… Really regretting the devil horns and the tongue pose, huh?”

“…yeah, people’ve really clung to that…”

“It’s a good pose! To be fair, and really great in the scene.”

“Well, I thought so! Still do. But… It’s really something walking and seeing that picture staring at you all over.”

“Which proves my earlier point. Your lines are… Way longer than mine will ever be, so… To bring us back to the original point… Us pitiful authors are more likely to not be recognized than you actors that are so well loved and pretty enough to be recognized—”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?”

You laughed, a bit harder than you intended, eyes looking at him as you felt a warmth traveling up your face. Licking your lips, clearing your throat, “—I’m… I’m saying… It’s more natural that you’d be recognized more than like… Well, me. So, you know, if you’re feeling bad about it… Well, that’s stupid, don’t do that.”

He grinned at that, a soft chuckle joining in as his eyes looked down a moment, and you swore, you swore you saw his ears gain a slight reddish tinge of color before he looked up at you again. “…I’ll admit, I was feeling a bit of a twat which, well… I practically feel that every moment of my fucking life one way or another, but…” He smiled, “In this case, I’ll…try not to. Which is difficult.”

“Ah… Right…. The British thing, huh?”

That earned an immediate laugh, his eyes looking at you incredulously. He paused a moment, his smile widening further. “…you’re…working through your birthday. How American of you.”

“Pfft, not as if this is anything remotely classified as hard labor. You’ve clearly never worked an hourly wage job, huh?”

“Excuse me?” he said, a touch of offense in his tone and by the expression on his face. “You don’t know me. I could have been a hard-working lad.”

“Did you, then?”

He paused, lips parted, and an ever-growing smile on his face. “… no, but I could’ve done.” You laughed. “You can’t go just assuming things is my point.”

“Yeah, okay, fair.” Giving him a nod, “A fair point. And, yeah,” you admitted with a sigh. “I voluntarily chose to be here during my birthday weekend.” Giving a shrug, “Girl’s gotta eat. And, honestly, worse places to be on your birthday. I’m kinda fond of this convention. Meet up with a lot of fellow authors, and yes, the readers are great, it’s really cool to connect and see who is still willing to read my shit, so…”

“Well,” he interjected, nodding toward where one of your readers had sat down. “She seemed quite interested, so, I can see why you enjoy doing this.”

“And it’s local for me, too. So not much of a hassle, just drove here from home… Gonna drive back after some food… And yes, I get a bit of money and an ego boost so it might as well be on my birthday — don’t ask me how old, I won’t say.”

“Oh, no, I would never. My mum would never allow that if she knew, so no, won’t be doing that.”

You chuckled, “…you really are a mama’s boy, aren’t you?”

He snorted, “The sexiest thing in the world to be, I’m sure… But… Well, yeah, guess I am, a bit… That entirely make me sound like a… I dunno, a… It’s not sexy, is it? Like, I’m some man child or… Someone unappealing? Need to cut the cord sort of thing? Which I have! I am… Live by myself and all that, I just… Well… It’s my mum, you know? And yeah, I adore her.”

You were impressed he fully admitted to favoring his mum, most guys you’ve hung around with wouldn’t have. Gerry did, and Gerry was definitely classified as a mama’s boy from the get-go, but he entirely did not count in your eyes. That, coupled with the fact that the way in which Joseph asked was… Genuine. Vulnerable, even. And the way he did speak about his mum… That made him a very dangerous man.

Chuckling softly, you shook your head. “Doesn’t sound unappealing at all. It’s… It’s kinda… It’s the sweetest, actually.”

His eyes seemed to soften, sparked by his smile as his fingers stroked along his bearded jaw. “Yeah? Well,” placing his hand down, giving you a challenging look. “Sweet is hardly sexy, though, is it?”

Letting out a hum, your shoulders lift in a small shrug towards him, “Could be to some people.”

Licking his lips as he became silent for a few fleeting seconds, used, in his head, to ponder the point of even asking what was swirling in his head. Staring at you, the inside of his cheek nestled between his side teeth, deciding if he really wanted to know and just by how much, but he asked it anyway — “Is it, to you?”

You wanted to laugh.

Just… Laugh.

Your eyebrows lifted, of course. Lips twitching a bit, to the point where your teeth bit into the flesh of your bottom lip. There was even a feeling of heat traveling up your neck. Joseph Quinn are you seducing me? echoed in your head, which only added to the whole hilarity of the moment and made you want to laugh even more.

Lips parted, though your mind went blank. Reassurance that he was just being funny was screaming in your head, that it was a joke, that he was just being kind. Crossing your arms in front of you, a laugh did escape you, but more of a huff rather than the complete guffaw you wanted to let out. The thought was too much — he was being too much with those eyes of his, peering at you like that. His head tilted back slightly, and you swore his eyes scanned your face, somewhat wolfish in the manner.

Worse?

He licked his god damn lips.

Fuck him.

“Could be,” you finally answer, repeating your earlier words. “Depending on the person.”

He exhaled through his nose in a huff, smile shown on that unfair face of his. He bit the corner of his lip, giving a nod, “So, definitely not a deal breaker?”

“As long as they don’t call me mommy or…try and make me into their mom in some weird, Oedipus kink sort of situation… No, no, not a deal breaker.”

“N—“he started, but a chuckle interrupted his words for a moment, shaking his head. “No, no, that would be… Yeah, Oedipus kink is a fair deal breaker…” Looking at you a moment, he took in a deep breath. “Do you like chocolate?”

“…um,” furrowing your brows and letting out a laugh. “I… I don’t really trust anyone that says they don’t, even a little bit. Outside of allergies, of course.”

“Right, of course. So, but are you a big fan of it? Like… Is it your favorite?”

“God, yes. I can never have enough chocolate, I will do…ungodly things for chocolate. Why?”

He clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, pointing toward the kitchen. “They… They have this like, chocolate ganache ricotta cheesecake here that is…” his words trailed off, shaking his head in almost disbelief, “…the most…delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. Not too sweet, but still indulgent and just… Absolutely amazing… And… I… Yeah, just realized I’m trying to sell you on something you’ve most likely already had probably so many times, haven’t you?”

There was such a pitying look on your face, “…you looked so excited telling me all that…”

“Fuck,” he let out, leaning back in his seat. “Really thought I was doing something, there… Shit.” He ended with a soft laugh, rubbing the side of his neck. “It’s fucking delicious though, isn’t it?”

“Oh,” you let out, leaning against the back of your chair, “I would give my first born for an endless supply of that cheesecake, yeah. Favorite is the caramel drizzle on top.”

He laughed, more at ease, “Well, I don’t…really have a need for a first born at the moment, but… And seeing as you’ve pronounced caramel properly and the right way—”

“God, you are so British.”

“Yes, I am, now, shut up,” he chuckled, licking his lips. “…let me buy you a slice of that cheesecake. I won’t ask for a candle but, well… It is your birthday, and you are valiantly working through it… So…?”

An immediate smile came across your face, and it was in that moment you noted the light stinging of your cheeks, alerting you to just how much you were smiling within this interaction. Much more than you had in quite a while.

That could be enough, couldn’t it?

It wouldn’t be right to just accept it right away. So said some residual bullshit of pride in not seeking gifts from men you just met or accepting things so easily rose in you. One that mainly came from growing up in a family that was that prideful, the words of your older sister and maybe even your mother bubbled up. “You don’t have to do that…”

“I know. But I want to,” he said oh so casually. “Cheaper than drinks,” he joked with a light chuckle. “And I mean… More indulgent, I think… And, yes, you were right, I was…so…looking at your boobs like some fucking caveman and I need to rectify that.”

You laughed at that, causing his face to flush a bit.

“So, please…” he didn’t even ask again, looking toward the bartender, raising a hand. “Can you add that lovely chocolate ganache ricotta cheesecake to her order? I’ll pay for it or — actually, just add it to my tab, I should be sorting it out, already, thanks.”

It wasn’t normal, how that last part made your heart sink a bit. “Heading off?”

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you swore you saw a hint of regret on his face. “Yeah, really should meet up with my mate. I really was on my way to do that, just…” He smiled at you. “Got a bit distracted.”

Giving out a nod, you hummed, “That does happen.”

“Mmhm,” he let out, taking his wallet from his pocket, the card reader placed in front of him. “So,” he started, whipping out his credit card and going forward with the payment. “You’re a writer. What do you write about, then?”

Ah, yes.

You were wondering when that question would come out. There were a lot of ways to go about it, flowery words — vague words that you knew others in your field typically went toward when someone not in your field would ask that question. Thing was… You never really got along with those that skirt around it, instead, admired those bold enough to be direct. Because that’s what you were at times.

Blunt and direct.

“Oh… Lady porn, basically.”

His credit card stilled in mid-air, just inches away from the tap icon and you watched with amusement — it was entirely out of amusement — as he seemed to freeze right on the spot. Perhaps he hadn’t heard you right. A trick of the ears, of you telling him something completely different to what he heard. Tap went the card, hearing the light chirp of the machine before the card was lifted once more, tapping the no receipt option and his eyes — oh, his eyes! They blinked, more than a few times as his hands returned his credit card back to his wallet, and you could tell the words lady porn were repeating themselves over and over in his head.

Slowly, he turned to look at you as his wallet was once more in his pocket, a look of confusion taking root on his face, licking his lips. “…what...?” Shaking his head, “Sorry, but I thought I heard…. What?”

Oh, it was too funny.

Your lips stretched into a grin, forcing you to bite your lower lip before you repeated yourself. “I…write lady porn for a living. That’s what I do, that’s why they invite me.”

“…lady porn.”

“Mmhm.”

His lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, eyeing you up and down. “…what, like… Uh… Playboy or, er, Playgirl or something like that…?”

You burst out laughing at that, covering your mouth, “No!”

His smile broke out, a brightness in his eyes as he, too, burst out laughing. “Well! What do you mean by that — Lady porn?! What does that…? I don’t understand, I saw a book!”

You had covered your face as your shoulders shook. Prompting his brows to raise in a look of total offense he couldn’t even muster to look genuine.

“Don’t laugh, please don’t laugh at me. What does that mean?” His tone was desperate, elevating in pitch that, you had to admit, was quite cute.

“It means I do write books. I write erotic books. Erotica. Like… Total literary porn but with a good dash of plot if anyone even reads them for that. I’m not strictly in the adult entertainment industry like that, although…”

You gave a shrug, thinking about it, “It’s not a bad idea… I could probably write the hell of a porn scene, like… Passionate, definitely made for women type of stuff. But no, not me, I just… I write characters or a character that is pretty free with her inhibitions and unapologetically likes sex and likes it a lot. So… yeah, that’s me.”

“Right…” He chuckled, nodding a bit, “Okay… Yeah, that… That’s makes more sense…” His lips spread in a smile as he looked at you. “I wasn’t really expecting that…”

“I mean, I could have said romance which is definitely the blanket term which…” You sighed, “I mean, I guess, technically I could say that… Less of a reaction if I did, I’m sure… But…” A soft shake of your head comes, “The ones that try and blanket their work as romance always seem…”

Licking your lips as you try to come up with the right words. “I don’t know… Kind of ashamed of their work. Like if it’s about sex, it’s… Cheap… Tawdry form of art or… The dreaded ‘not real writing’. Like if the story of two people meeting, connecting with one another in the most primal and human way is somehow less than if that same story were told but the focus not being about sex but instead the focus being this…” You sighed, “I don’t know, flowery, almost virginal point of view with characters that are just perfect and have no flaws. Selling on the story of true love fixes all when… Sometimes love just isn’t enough. I get the appeal, don’t get me wrong, we all want a little fantasy but… I don’t know, there’s just this double standard in the industry. That to be seen as a true writer, you can’t make the emphasis on passion and desire, but you are if what you write about is how someone completes you and I…”

His smile was gentle, warm, the chuckle escaping him matched it. “That’s… That’s not you.”

“No…” you answered, a sly smile to your face. “I’m not or ever will be ashamed that I write hot ass smut.”

“I…” he started, his grin wide and eyes twinkling with utter amusement. “I can’t say for sure or not, but I definitely don’t doubt it.” Brows raising in thought, his smile turning a bit mischievous, “Then again… I could go ahead and buy your books, couldn’t I? To know for sure, completely and without question…”

Taking in a deep breath, ignoring the sense of panic at the mere thought of him reading your work, you tried to play it cool, shaking your head. “Oh, I don’t know if you could handle it, honestly? I mean… Your immediate go to for porn were playboy, or, er, playgirl… You’re kinda behind the times.”

“Oh, am I?” his face still the perfect image of amused. “Would you rather I whip out names like, brazzers or something?”

A dramatic eye roll given, “God, you would go for brazzers. All men go for brazzers.”

“Oh, is that unoriginal for you? And you would go for…?”

“Mmm… Nubiles, Vixen… Adult Time can be good… For straight, porn, anyway. Bellesa is doing good...” You look at his face and you laugh. “Am I shocking you that I know this many labels of porn creators?”

“A bit, yeah!” he barked out with a laugh. “I, erm… Just that… You watch porn.”

“I write porn, so of course I watch it. How else am I supposed to write out the sexual depravity that my readers secretly yearn for but would never say out loud? That’s my job, I give it to them, make them explore a bit of themselves they never voiced or would even admit to their own damn selves. It’s selfless work.”

He practically giggled. You made this man giggle. Looking incredulously at you, leaning back, shaking his head, “Oh, now I’ve got to read your stuff. It’s a need, now. As soon as we…ever finish this conversation, I’m going to my kindle. Though, I do like the physicality of reading an actual book most of the time…”

“Well, I am selling them in the dealer’s room… I even have an in for them to be personally signed by the author. She’s hard up for money and attention, so…” You shrugged.

His hand dramatically smacked against his own chest, right over his heart, “I would be honored to have personally signed copies of that particular author’s works. I heard very good things. And then I can fully understand what the fuck is lady porn and see if I become a whole new man after I do.”

“Love to hear it, if you manage it over the weekend… At least your taste in porn would improve.”

His ears were burning, smiling wide and looking down for a moment. Positively bashful at the comment, licking his lips. “Did that, um… Probably not, I mean, you just admitted to watching a fair bit of it, but um… I mean… Though you are sort of insulting my supposed lack of porn knowledge—”

“Supposed? Are you saying you’ve seen more than you’ve let on?”

The smirk he let out was like that of a young schoolboy that was up to no good. “…no. Well… Maybe—I mean, if I did, would that… Would you…” He huffed a small laugh, “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say, it feels ridiculous…”

“Oh,” you let out, quickly understanding. “Are you, like… Are you worried whatever version of you inside my head is shattered on the fact that… I don’t know… That you watch porn, even basic porn, and are not, in fact, squeaky clean bordering on virginal?”

“…basically, yeah.”

You had to laugh, even a little bit, “Oh, you’re cute.”

“Stop it.”

“No,” you laughed. Realizing you needed to elaborate on that singular no. “I mean… No, there is no…shattering of whatever image of you out there or… I’m not disappointed or anything. Never thought you above porn, obviously. Or like… You’re so squeaky clean that I thought you wouldn’t…indulge. Fuck, I indulge… You’re grown, do what you want.”

“So… Doesn’t make you think less of me that I’m… Like I’m some big perv? Like um…”

“Oh, you are a big perv,” you laughed, “Remember? You were glued to the sight of my boobs, like…”

He burst out laughing, a grin on your face.

“You, Joseph Quinn, are an absolute pervert. And that’s okay.”

“…god, I’m never living that down, am I? Not ever? You’re going to go through life and just, whenever I’m brought up, just… ‘Oh, yeah, I met him once. A fucking caveman of a perv just looking at my tits.’ Amazing impression I’ve left.” You snickered, “One hell of a role model of a human being.”

“Shut up, it’s not terrible. Makes you human, you know? Honestly? It’s kinda…” And you trail off, your words halting.

And he catches it, of course, he catches it. Big brown eyes lighting up, looking at you, expectantly.

Your lips twitch, the words burning on your tongue, your bold, up-front attitude begging you to say it. Maybe he’ll be flattered, or perhaps it would catch him off guard that you’d see his ears get all pink and cute and it could be a nice memory for you to hold on to. But there was a part of you that was holding back. That didn’t want to veer into the realm of being cringe, though you hated the term and what it’s become. You wanted to be authentic, wanted to be yourself.

You wanted to say that the fact he was a bit of a perv… Was actually kind of hot.

The fact that you liked that he thought with his dick, that he wasn’t some baby girl type of man that you had to censor yourself around. That he could say fuck and wanted to get fucked. That he wasn’t the persona you saw on hundreds of TikTok’s on your for you page. Not fitting the narrative so many of his fans projected onto him. That he could be crude. He liked tits. Probably ass, too. Maybe even a leg man. Liked porn, wouldn’t mind reading your porn, if he was being honest about that.

The fact that all of that was very… Very hot to you was alarming enough that you just didn’t want to speak it out loud.

He was just being nice. And you didn’t want to say or do anything that would make him…not want to be nice.

Luckily, very luckily, your food was brought to the counter, veering both of you off topic.

Thank God.

Sliders, loaded fries, drinks and…a very generous slice of the chocolate ganache ricotta cheesecake — with caramel drizzle. You smiled, looking from the plates set in front of you back to Joseph. “Guess our conversation has come to an end. I should get this back to my very hungry friends by now.”

He gave a nod, smiling gently, though there was a sense of disappointment in his gaze at you. “…I have to get a hold of my mate, as well.” He watched as you stared at the plates, holding the sliders in one hand, the loaded fries in the other, still leaving the three drinks and the cheesecake. Biting his lip, he picked those right up, catching your eye with a smile. “Let me help you to your table, yeah? It’s practically on my way out.”

You furrowed your brow, “Are you sure? I can always make two trips or even text my friend to come help me—”

“Nah, we could do it just fine, I think. It’s no trouble, I promise.”

Part of you wanted to protest, insist that you could do it on your own or even bring Jen or Gerry along to help. You figured he had some place way more important to be, but the look of that smile on his face and his willingness to help… God, it wasn’t like you could say no, could you? A relenting breathy laugh flowed from you, as well as the relaxing of your shoulders. “That…would be amazing, actually… Thank you.” With a smirk, you added, “Your mum definitely raised you right.”

“Oh, can I tell her you said that? I think she worries, sometimes…”

His cheeky smile makes you laugh, only allowing the smile to grow wider. You started off on your path, allowing him to follow.

Licking his lips after a few steps, he took a deep breath. “Fake Taxi.”

That caused you to pause a moment, looking back at him, clearly confused.

He chuckles, nudging your shoulder. “…it’s not just brazzers, it’s… Sometimes it’s Fake Taxi.”

It clicks, and you let out a snort. “…really? Huh… I watch that sometimes, too…” You start walking again, spotting the jovial look on his face. “Do I have to sign an NDA now that you’ve confessed that Joseph Quinn watches porn? Wouldn’t want that all over the internet…”

“I don’t think you’d disappoint my mum like that… I am her baby boy, after all…” he let out as you let out a laugh. “And… Oddly… I kinda trust you.”

There was a warmth the sparked within you, not up your neck or on your face… But within your chest, surprising yourself. Taking a deep breath, you let out a sigh. “Well… It would ruin people’s image of you being so babygirl, so… I wouldn’t dare be the reason behind that.”

He let out a sigh, “Babygirl, really? I don’t even get Babyboy? Or man. Babyman?”

You know he’s trying to be cute, and he in fact, very much is, and you can’t help but let out a small laugh, turning to look at him. “…you really standing there in front of me, preferring to be called Babyman?”

“Not good?” he said with such a serious face, that it becomes comical to you. “Think I should go with something else? You’re the writer, what do you suggest?”

“From my ongoing conversation with you? Manchild.”

He let out a gasp, an actual gasp, looking at you with a hurt expression. “That hurt.”

“For someone that’s so dead set against being called babygirl… You sure are acting very babygirl.”

He tutted, “For the last time… I’m manly. Maybe you should spread the word. Do a TikTok.” Though the smile on his face gave the impression he didn’t mind, carrying on behind you, walking through the throngs of people, still… Avoiding the crack in the floor and further and further along toward your table.

You saw Jen and Gerry straight away, but there was a third person, very tall. Lanky, even. Speaking animatedly so much that his arms were almost flailing about and from what you could tell from Jen’s face, telling a rather intriguing story. Shoulder length blond hair swayed with his movements, a rich voice starting to cut through the crowd. It was familiar. You recognized him, you think. There isn’t much you can tell from the back of someone’s head. It wasn’t until…

“Jamie?” came Joseph’s voice beside you and that’s when the other turned around and those bright blue eyes confirmed it for you.

That was Jamie fucking Campbell-Bower.

V e c n a, himself.

“Mate!” Joseph let out, putting the trays he had on your table, putting his hands on Jamie’s shoulder. “Where the fuck have you been, yeah? Been waiting for you, meaning to call you, but...” Whether he intended to or not, his eyes flickered toward you for a split second, before going back toward his mate. “…got distracted. Where you been?”

“Right!” he let out, his hands grasping at Joseph’s forearms, “Sorry! Meant to call as well, signing went a bit longer than expected. Mobile completely died…”

“Oh, so, even if I called you…”

“Yeah, you’d been fucked, mate, sorry.”

He laughed, “Well, I feel not as bad, now, cheers.”

Jamie laughed, patting his arm, “Well, we found one another now and —” turning toward your table, “Mobile’s been charged.”

“Me,” Jen let out, “Because of me, because I have a portable charger on me, hi,” looking directly at you. Eyes wide, and an expression that was genuinely screaming — you’ve got some explaining to do, Miss.

You let out a grin, returning the look pointedly at her, wondering what your life was right now. “Always bring a portable charger,” you let out, placing the trays in your hands to join the ones that Joseph let down. Turning to Joseph, you gestured toward your friends, “So, these are the hungry friends I was trying to get more food to… My best friend Jen and her forever fiancé, Gerry.”

He immediately let go of Jamie and toward them, “Hello! Hi, lovely to meet you,” shaking their hands warmly. “Right, well, I’m Joe.”

“Oh, we know,” Jen let out, a smile on her face looking from Joe and to you. “Yeah, we know who you are.”

Wench.

“Nice to meet you,” Gerry interjected, thankfully, shaking his hand. “We loved Eddie, you did such a cool job, amazing job. When we all watched it, one of the specific things that struck me was like… Eddie was so someone I knew in high school, like, you got that down, it was really cool.”

You watched as Joseph put his hand over his heart, his face melting, “Oh my god, thank you, that’s very kind. Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot, and it honestly means so much. I’m glad…” A soft laugh let out, “Whatever I did, it’s honestly a blur sometimes, resonated so much, thank you.” Taking a deep breath, “Now,” a step back, his fingers swaying between Jamie and Gerry, “…you two seemed a bit familiar, there a story there? I’m not jealous, but…” His back straightened, looking between the two, “I sort of am.”

“Joseph, you know you’re my favorite boy.”

“I demand answers.”

“I demand you not be so fucking rude, hi,” Jamie let out, turning to you with a warm smile and a hand, “Since I was going to wait forever, I’ll introduce myself,” pausing for the snort Joseph let out. “I’m Jamie, love,” he chuckled through. “Nice to meet you, how are you?”

You laughed, taking his hand and shaking it, “I’m amazing, lovely to meet you. And since we’re blowing up Joseph’s ass,” you started, getting a laugh out of that from the boys, “Can I say… Your casting was fucking brilliant. The way how soft One was when he was just the orderly? If I was looking into those big blue eyes, I would have believed anything he said, so good on you.”

 Jamie laughed, holding your hand even tighter in his grip. “Oh, that’s so lovely of you! Warms my heart to hear that.”

“Honestly, I mean it, and that whole reveal with Vecna, One, Henry, that was so beautiful.”

“Yes, it was… Honestly so pleased how it turned out. And I did enjoy doing the whole monologue with Henry, really getting to know how his mind works. Thank you, I appreciate that so much, darling.”

Joseph took in a deep breath, “Yeah, this is why I didn’t introduce you, mate.”

You snorted, looking over at him and stuck out your tongue. “Anyway… And despite him being rude… I concur, you two looked like you knew one another… But that’s impossible because Gerry would never let that slip his mind to not even mention to us…” your words trailed, as you looked to the man in question, narrowing your eyes. “…yes, you fucking would, actually.”

Taking a deep breath, Gerry scratched the back of his neck. “We… Well… We kinda played a few clubs together, a few years back… During one of my tours…”

“Shit,” Joseph let out, recognition hitting him. “You’re in that band. With your brother, yeah? You’re a musician. Fuck, you look different.”

A sheepish smile came over Gerry’s face, “Oh… Yeah, I’m kinda known for being wildly inconsistent with my looks, at least back then.” Looking over at Jamie, “How’s the music coming along?”

“Oh, chaotic, as usual, but fun but definitely still going, though very slowly. Which I sort of enjoy, no need to rush it.”

“Slow and steady,” Jen supplied, looking directly at you which only made you narrow your eyes.

Choosing to ignore it, knowing exactly what she was driving at. “Sorry, sorry, I’m still going over the fact that you two,” a swaying hand between Jamie and Gerry, “…know each other. I mean, I kinda expect it, but the fact that,” pointing at Jen, “Did you know this?”

“No,” she said sternly, her brows risen as she said it. “Trust me, it was just as big of a surprise to me, too.” Turning to her fiancé, she cleared her throat. “We’re gonna have a big talk about this.”

“We’ve could’ve had Jamie Campbell Bower on a podcast, and you just sat on that information?! Dishonor on you and your whole ass family. Except Jen. Obviously.”

“You have a podcast?” You heard Joe practically squeak, Jamie laughing soon after.

Smiling a bit, you turn to him, “I have a bit of everything. Some of us embrace the internet and don’t act like some babyface boomers.”

Jamie cackled, his hand patting Joe on the back as he stood there, staring at you in a mock offended expression on his face as he let out, “How… Fucking… dare you.”

“I don’t know, mate, she seems to got you clocked,” Jamie let out, giving an approving nod. “Spot on, love.”

Joseph let out a sigh, “…oh, you’re all against me.”

“Well,” you replied, “You just make it both easy and so much fun.”

Jamie crossed his arms, looking between the two of you, “Okay, well, got me curious, how’s this come about?”

Joe let out a chuckle, “Jealous, are we?”

“A bit, you’re my precious boy —” his smile breaking out as he looked at you, “I’m just curious, crazy coincidence? Or serendipity.”

But before you could even attempt to answer, Joe beat you to it. “Oh, I saved her.”

You watched as Jen’s eyes widened, head tilting and worry on her face, “Excuse me, what?”

“The floor,” Joe started, “…attacked her. Almost sent her to her death, but I was there.”

And just like that, the worry fled her face as she let out a sigh. “The boots?”

“That and a crack on the floor, yeah. Or just uneven flooring. I don’t know, the tip of my boot hit it and yes, Joe was there and…caught me when I fell.”

You hated the way Jen’s face lit up at that. You’ve known her for so long that you knew the wheels were turning in her head. Soon enough, she let out, “Wow, that sounds… Absolutely storybook. You should write about it.”

Oh, if looks could kill… Or at the very least give a light smack of the head. “It was very…serendipitous.”

“It was good luck,” Joseph let out, clearing his throat. “Just plain good luck,” pointing a look at you.

That made you smile as you looked over at him, “Again, thanks for saving me.”

Chuckling softly, he gave a nod, “Well, that would’ve been embarrassing, I hear. Dying on your birthday, glad to help avoid that.”

If your eyes hadn’t been so trained on Joseph, you would have seen the look between Jen and Gerry, though you knew… You knew… As soon as it was just the three of you, the questions would come bombarding you. You couldn’t even blame them, really. This was easily the most insane few moments you’ve ever experienced. And it wasn’t quite over, yet, as Jamie slapped his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, eyes wide, “Joseph, you’re a hero now? Fancy that.”

“Are you proud, Papa?” he asked cheekily, looking up at him.

“Insanely, always knew you were so good.” Both chuckling at each other, before Jamie’s blue eyes found you. “And you! Happy Birthday, I hope it’s a good one.” He pointed at the slice of cheesecake, “Is that your birthday treat?”

“I was noticing that,” Jen chirped, “Treating yourself?”

“Actually…”

“I bought it for her, put it on my tab,” Joe answered, notably avoiding any glances before gently patting Jamie’s cheek, making him blink and look incredulously at him. “Oi, we got to book it,” he managed to get out before having a chuckle. “I got that panel in a few hours, but we wanted to…”

“Oh, right, that place, yeah…” Looking at the three of you, he smiled politely, “Sorry, would’ve loved to have a sit down but we really wanted to check out —”

“Jamie, no,” Joe let out, shaking his head, and looking at you with squinty eyes. “…. she’ll make fun of us.”

You have out a gasp, your hand over your heart, “How dare… I mean, probably.” It was your turn to narrow your eyes, looking at them both. “…it’s something British, isn’t it?”

Lifting his chin up, Joseph placed a finger against his lips and then a zipping of lips flourish which made you chuckle. His smile spread wide as he gave you a wink. “Happy Birthday. See you around the circus.”

“Wave a white flag if you need help,” you told him, watching the flash of his teeth as he dragged Jamie away who waved at you all. You couldn’t help it, watching after him until he was out of sight. Mainly because you couldn’t quite comprehend what just happened between the two of you, and the other part…

God, now you had to face Jen.

Your best friend in the world, sitting back in her seat with the most shit eating grin you had ever seen in your life. Letting out a soft groan, you sat down, pushing the burgers and sliders towards her — though you grabbed one for yourself. Taking a bite and with a flourish of your hand, gestured toward her. “Go ahead.”

“You fell into his fucking arms?!” was her immediate start. Her face disbelieving, a laugh struggling to come out. “That is why your ass was taking so long?”

“Hey, I almost died.”

“But you didn’t. And why? Because you had Mister Tall, British Man there to catch you when you fell!” Shaking her head, taking a slider and taking a bite but still looking at you.

The smile couldn’t help but form on your lips, shaking your head, “It was…a surreal moment.”

“It was a Jane Austen kinda moment.”

“He definitely has those vibes.”

“Dare we say like a Bridget Jones and Mark Darcy kinda vibe?”

You shook your head, “Wasn’t embarrassing enough for that. I’d have to had my boob fall out or show off my chonies or something like that. He’d make an awesome Mark Darcy, though.”

“He’d like you. Just as you are.”

“Fuck off,” you laughed, your attention going to Gerry, “But also, seriously, never mentioned the whole Jamie thing? We all saw Stranger Things together, dude.”

He held his hands up, “Hey, I meet a lot of people and you both know I hate name dropping.”

Sighing, looking at Jen, “Of all the musicians you had to fall for, you get the modest emo one.”

She sighed, looking at Gerry, “I know. The heart wants what it wants and we just gotta deal with it.”

“Love you, too.” Gerry leaning back in his seat, “Fine, maybe I could ask if he wants to sit in on a podcast, he might be really fun for you guys, actually.”

“Or Joe,” Jen lets out, smiling like the Cheshire cat at you. “Fess up. Did you get that man’s number?”

You snorted, looking at her with an arched brow. “Oh, I love that you think that I would even attempt to shoot my shot with him. Are you kidding? Do you know how many people in this vicinity that want to dick that man down? And the fact he’d probably turn them all down to dick down someone entirely not of our league, like an actress, model, singer… No. No, I did not score his number. I didn’t even ask for a photo.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t ask for a photo?! Like c’mon, he totally would have said yes.”

“I don’t know!” you said, finishing off the slider, giving a shrug. “I… I didn’t even think about it, honestly? Though, someone did approach and somewhere there is a pic of me and a pic of him with someone. One of my folks, a reader.”

You watched as Jen’s face switched from outraged to something resembling…pride. “Oh wow, that’s kinda cool.” Letting out a sigh, “You still should have…. I don’t know, if you weren’t going to get his number, at least a photo or something.”

“I got a cheesecake, and… Honestly… We talked, like, a lot.” You smiled, shaking your head. “He’s… He’s pretty cool, actually. Funny, too. More than those interviews usually show… I rather have had the conversation than like, a photo or a number that… Let’s face it. He’d either give me a fake one or change it overnight. Or ghost me, if he’s the type. It was good, the moment we had. I enjoyed it.”

“That’s all that matters,” Gerry let out, looking to Jen with as stern a look he could muster. “That’s all that matters.” He paused a moment, looking at you. “He smiled at you a lot though. There was definitely…something between you two.”

“Oh, God.”

“Right? Right?!” Jen practically squealed, “I knew it, I saw it, too! This is why I love you.” Gerry raised his brows, “One of many reasons! I promise.”

“You guys are way off. He’s just really nice, that’s all. But I’m glad he was. If he turned out to be a dick, that would be devastatingly heartbreaking.”

They both gave a relenting nod, eating their food for a moment while you dug into your cheesecake. Though you hadn’t meant to, your mind sort of swirled with little replays of that whole experience with him. The sound of his laugh, his smile, his eyes. Smiling a bit to yourself as you take that first bite, a small groan of appreciation.

It tastes sweeter than you remembered.

Your mind not daring to venture as to why, but you knew.

“He’s not my type—”

“Yeah,” you started, “We saw how you were looking at Jamie—”

“Shut up,” Jen told you, amongst your cackling, though she relented, “Okay, yeah, but… Joseph looked good… Like… With the beard and hair, you know what he looked like, right?”

“Enjolras,” you gave out, quite dreamily, without even taking a beat. “He was giving Enjolras.”

You could see Jen’s pearly teeth in her smile as she leaned forward, “You fucking love Enjolras.”

Your lips struggled to contain the smile that came out from the statement, the very true statement. Couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to. She was there when you all binge watched Les Misérables and watched him on screen, your eyes never leaving him, unashamedly.

“Enjolras is fucking hot,” you relent. “He was very hot…”

He still is.

Breaking out of the trance that induced you into, dragging reality to crash down into you. “Not that it matters. He’s probably… No, you know, it doesn’t even matter if he’s dating someone or not, it’s not… I’m not looking for anything and… No point in even entertaining anything otherwise. I’ll probably see him passing by through the con and nothing more than that, so… Yes, he’s hot, and very nice and…”

He smelled good. Like very good.

“You purring?”

Grabbing your straw, opening the end and blowing through it as the paper wrapper hit her so perfectly. Making her laugh. “You know what? Fuck off, firstly. And to prove that I know nothing will come of this, so it won’t be awkward… And a bit of an ego boost for me…” You licked your lips, a momentary sense of guilt, but, continuing anyway. “You know how he was there to catch me? He was walking and saw my boobs and was distracted so much that he was just there when I tripped.”

Sorry, Joseph. But it really wasn’t like you were going to see him again. And it really was too good to not share eventually.

“No!” your friend gasped.

“Oh, wow,” Gerry let out. “You guys know I’m still here, right?”

Ignoring him, you nodded, “Yup. Joseph Quinn? Total tit man.”

“Spellbound by the chichis,” Jen laughed. “I mean, wench, they do look nice in that top, not gonna lie.”

“And that totally saved my life, probably, maybe. Saying that, stays with us, don’t wanna spread that around. He did save my life, and,” gesturing towards your boobs as you sat back. “You’re right. Can’t blame him.” A soft chuckle emerges just as you feel the strong vibration of your phone. Shit. Telemarketer? Sister? Dad? Sitting up and digging into your pocket, you recognized the contact as none of the previously mentioned. “It’s the con peeps,” you let out, accepting the call. “Hey, what’s up, did we get bumped off?”

“Hey, sorry, no, not that. We’re uh, we’re kinda in a bind.”

Looking over at Jen and Gerry, you raised a brow, “What kinda bind?”

“Shelly had to pull out. Or, um… Well, she had a sort of…emergency…”

Your eyes narrowed as that sounded ominous. “…what kind of emergency?”

“…the…bring a new life into the world kinda emergency.”

“Aww!” came your immediate response. “Oh, that’s great, god, I saw her earlier, she seemed so miserable being in this heat and over her due date—Oh.” You let out a hiss, “Oh yeah, yeah that sucks for you guys.”

“Yeah, it’s great for her, but, not so much for us, so… She had a panel that she was gonna moderate in a few hours. And you’re always good about filling in and it won’t interfere with any of your bookings or anything like that and you’re always so good with them… Can you cover it for her?”

“They want me to cover a panel,” you explained to your friends, covering the bottom half of your phone before getting back to the call. “Um, yeah, sure, she’s always good with notes so I won’t be completely in the dark.”

“You’ll be great, just, you know, maybe… Tone it down a bit?”

“Oh god, are there going to be children? I can’t… I mean I can try and censor myself, but you know what I’m like when I really get going.”

“I know, but we’re really in a bind…”

“You’ve said that. I’m like your last resort, aren’t I?”

“…I’m not going to say yes, but I’m also definitely not gonna say no…”

“I do love your honesty. Okay. Yeah, it could be fun. I had a big gap between tonight’s panel anyway, I could squeeze one in between. When is it?”

“A couple of hours, thank you! We were scrambling. Getting desperate, we really didn’t want to cancel.”

“I got you guys. Is it a group panel or…”

“No, no, it’s a solo one, one actor, a whole hour and vetted questions from the audience. It’s that guy from Stranger Things? New to the cons, he played Eddie Munson? It’s going to be a big crowd…”

Oh, there was a buzzing in your head. Looking over at your friends who looked a bit concerned right back at you.

Oh, god.

What even was your life?

It had to be a joke, right? Some cosmic joke that whatever higher being was up there, so bored that he decided to just fuck with your life.

And on your birthday.

On your birthday!

“…yeah. Yeah. I’ll be there.”

Jesus H. Christ.

What the fuck.

What the fuck?

[canonicallyobserving911]

I saw that nasty bt reblog and tags on your post before you blocked them 👏 It's funny to me that they repeatedly parrot this pathetic "bommy are having lots of nasty sex we win" as if a) it's true and b) it's some kind of devastating gotcha???

8x05 is the most bommy content they've gotten since last season, and the "loving couple" who are supposedly endgame soulmates and wildly attracted to each other barely even touched lol

No matter how much they say it, bommy's nasty sex only exists in their fanons and fics. Which, i can read E-rated buddie fics too! Even if they're not canon! Amazing! And the fact they keep falling back on it just shows they're aware that (presumed, offscreen) sex is all their ship has over buddie, it has an expiry date, and it's just another of buck's hamster wheel relationships.

The other thing i can remember about that bt bitching about how buddies just can't realise that "people grow and change" - yeah and bommies can't realise that a) temu is a fictional character. He doesn't "grow and change" he's a side character plot device and only does what the script tells him to. He has not been thus far portrayed as someone perfectly compatible with buck or buck's endgame, or even as a particularly nice empathetic virtuous good-hearted person, and b) 911 regularly makes bad and unsatisfying writing choices and gives characters offscreen redemptions or assumed redemption. Do bommies think that Gerrard has "grown and changed"?? It seems like he's not racist and sexist anymore, he's just a comedic old hardass. Do bommies defend Gerrard and say he's not so bad now??

Also it annoys me how nobody seems to remember how temu was still acting like a snide asshole to Hen in 7x03 and making her uncomfortable and pretending he was helping her to be a good guy, when really buddie and chim had already gotten him to agree to help. And if he's such good friends with hen and chim now, as bommies kept insisting, why hasn't he been shown to interact or connect with them in a friendly way?? Seems like he's not interested in reconnecting with them and vice versa. How interesting!

Hello @blutterlie and thank you for the ask.

I'll start by saying I didn't read all of that mess the BT Stan added to the reblog because all I had to see was the part about Buddie shippers needing to understand that people change 🙄 and I knew then to block them.

This is going to be lengthy because I wanted to address each of your points.

Buck

I'll start with Buck and Tinsel Town because it's always amazed me how the BT's only care that Buck and Temu are having sex (which if 8x5 is any indication, if they are then that’s all it is beause Toy Story wouldn’t lovingly or romantically touch Buck like someone he even LIKES and that was before the boils appeared) it's all they have. Furthermore, if they knew anything about Buck, they would know that Buck uses sex to feel things and not once has he had an emotionally intimate relationship with any of the women he's dated. He was Abby's boy toy (just like he's Tonka Toy's). Ali was barely there and they were shown kissing but IIRC, they weren't shown in bed. All him and Taylor had was sex and the longer they stayed together the more clothes they wore because they didn't know each other beyond the physical. Buck went straight to the physical with Natalia too and since their relationship happened off screen, it appears outside of his death, that’s all they had. Now for Trombone, based on everything that’s been shown even starting with 7x4, he was so into Eddie that he actually spent money on him and courted him but he hasn’t done that with Buck. They've only been shown hanging out in the loft which proves Tom doesn't want anything serious. He laughed at Buck with his coworkers which means he doesn't respect him and he wasn't bothered by the fact that Buck was the butt of the joke. Buck was literally injured and Temu wouldn't even kiss him on the cheek or his forehead. That's not a loving relationship, it's just sex and nothing more.

Buck has always used his body parts so if they are having sex, then Tombstone is NOT special since Buck’s done that with everyone else. Therefore if all the BT Stan's want to see is two dudes getting it on, they should just watch p0rn.

Buck deserves better than someone who just wants to use his body as a playground and that's been his whole arc from the first episode 1x1. He was born for parts, he used his body for sex and now he acts like that’s all he has to offer.

But Eddie has always been there for Buck to remind him that he's not EXPENDABLE. Tom Thumb thinks he is so it wouldn’t surprise me if his confession is they aren't serious and Buck thinks they are and he spirals about it. Hopefully, he'll breakup with him because if he tries to stick it out, then he'll still be on the hamster wheel and it won't be a good look for Buck.

Timbuktu

I don't think he’s changed at all but I do think the writers gave him a personality transplant so that he could fit the narrative they want to tell. It's a bad look for 9-1-1 not to address it especially after everything that just happened here in the states and if they weren't planning to do it, then they shouldn't have brought his problematic ass back. They should have gotten a no name actor and let him work B-Shift or something so he wouldn't have had a background. The issue is TM is big on names and since LFJr. is a nepo baby, TM is using the name recognition so people who watched his dad be "The Hulk" in the 1980s will see his name and watch the show. However, there are two problems, Jr. can't act and he doesn't work well with others. So there's that.

Also, Gerrard didn't change just like you said but they sure gave him a happy ending and turned him into a captain who was cringey instead of addressing his past.

Hen and Chimney

I wanted them to tell Tombstone off but the show won't let them. If they would it would certainly be more realistic than the BS they're doing. He was being trifling and antagonistic with Hen in 7x2 and I posted about how she doesn't trust him but BT Stans keep acting like they’re all good friends when the narrative is showing otherwise. In 8x5, Chimney was sitting across from Tonka Toy but he didn't look at or address him. Trombone was and still is the outsider who will never be invited to the cookout but Hen and Chimney tolerated him because they were coworkers.

I can't wait for Buck to breakup with Triscuit so he can finally understand he doesn't need to be in a relationship to be whole. At this point and IMO, Buck needs to work on that before he enters a relationship with Eddie because the way that it stands, he gets everything he emotionally needs from Eddie but he gets sex from whoever he's dating and that's not sustainable. He needs to choose what and who he wants or he'll end up like Trombone.

Thanks again for the ask and have a great day.

[butter-your-flies]

hey im river im new i live in las vegas my chemical romance makes me dance

(i dont actually live in vegas dont come find me and if you get the reference kiss me)

Send me inbox trick or treats on halloween!

I use any pronouns! I am 16, I don't mind adults following me but don't be a weirdo

Online Status: online but not online

Mood: my brain has exploded all over the place

Member of @freakforfrankcult

Vote me for president!

Main fandoms

The Legend of Zelda

Linked Universe

Bonus Links

Linked Maze

Tangled/Tangled the Series

Vat7K

Luca

Lots of music...too many bands too many artists GAGHAHAKGJHHHSHDK

I also occasionally post/reblog things about My Little Pony, Adventure Time, The Owl House, Amphibia, How to Train Your Dragon, Trolls, Gravity Falls, and more

My current obsession(s): Emo Trinity + more

River Rates Tangled the Series (on hiatus probably until next year)

Every year I rewatch the show, and this year I decided to start rating each episode as I watch. I will also be rating the songs in episodes that have them, along with overall season ratings. I'll be doing this every year until I get tired of it to see how my opinions change.

This year's tag is #river rates tangled the series (2024), and for other rewatch content unrelated to my rating series, go to #river rewatches tangled the series. For polls, go to #you rate tangled the series (2024)

DNI

People who romantically ship family members, minors and adults, romance/sex repulsed aroace characters with anyone, basically anything problematic

People who hate on nonproblematic ships and oc x canon ships (you're annoying)

Blank blogs, if you're gonna follow me you're gonna have to be more than a default pfp with no reblogs. I automatically assume you are a bot, and even if you're not a bot part of tumblr is reblogging things...

Racists, homophobes, transphobes, misogynists, zionists, terfs, and other bigoted dumbasses. This is not a space for you

NSFW/kink blogs go away, I'm a minor

Basically if you suck leave

dr pepper haters /j

Other Stuffz

I occasionally write but I haven't posted anything in a very long time

I also draw, mostly traditional. I'm not very good, but I've improved recently!

I <3 Frank Iero

I'm a huge Revalink fan :3

I love to ship characters and nobody can stop me

My ask box is always open and anon is enabled, so PLEASE send me asks I promise I don't bite I love talking to people I'm just socially awkward :,)

im cringey

I post stuff about my life a lot and I also sometimes vent but not very often and most if not all of my vent posts get deleted. All personal life posts are tagged #personal stuff and all vents are tagged #vent so if you want to filter it out feel free!

Most of my posts including reblogs are queued just to keep my blog consistent (if I didn't queue stuff i would go dead for like 2 months and then reblog 36283738 things one day just to dissapear and i dont want it to be like that) so my queue tag is #butter your queue (so original, I know)

Other Socials

Instagram-@rivlovescats

Tiktok-@/rivermustdie

Youtube-@rivloveszelda

Spacehey-rivlovescats

Secret Share

Mutuals feel free to ask for my airbuds, spotify, and discord

[enoughyi]

#7: Beware the Spiders

Ship: Imelda Reyes x Poppy Sweeting

Summary: Poppy came to the Pitch to drop off a few meals very well aware of Imelda's own definition of the word 'meal'. Spiders managed to revert it back to the original one, however.

Prompt Number: 54. Against a Locker kiss. [>>>link to the list]

Word count: 597. Rating: G.

A/N: It's brainrot-powered. Characters are in their 20's.

Back to perpetually annoy peapol in the fandom tags.

Tags: @thriftstorebabayaga @espressoristretto-patronum @celestial--sapphic @caramel-hufflepuff @adalinda-selwyn and @girl-named-matty because yes I remembered That Song

Holyhead's Pitch was very different from the Pitch at Hogwarts.

Hidden in the hills but overlooking the Irish Sea, and being a fancy background scenery for the neighbouring broom racing tracks, it was partly opened to the air and by the other part, sat belowground. To a local muggle it should've looked like a peculiarly fright-inducing rocks but little would change for any witch or wizard appearance-wise.

Darkened stone of the Pitch's frame, embellished in shells and moss on the outer walls, did the Pitch injustice, in Poppy's mind. It should look pretty, not like some kind of an old but decrepit castle? Pitches of Spain and France were gardens and cosy castillos most days. This one was a faery's den or awen's birthplace; any of these descriptors could summon Julia, or Imelda, or both simultaneously, because to Julia it would sound like, Research, and to Imelda it all Had Crucial Significance.

Poppy never minded a lecture but an outsider to both Quidditch and Potions, it usually turns either girl's talk to a lengthy monologue.

Which she, again, would never mind.

She, too, had an interest she'd turn a talking head for.

And in any case, when you're witnessing something as grand as this Pitch, but alone and holding a basket filled with meals and desserts, a wish for a company or a conversation was only natural to appear.

Poppy hoped a stroll back home -- to another hill -- wouldn't be as lonely. Imelda's training session should've been over the moment her foot is set inside the Pitch's reception hall.

She was right, but when she met Imelda, she as usual asked what was this for.

"Aren't you hungry?" Poppy teased.

Imelda was, certainly, but a look in her eyes, stranded, added to her tiredly curved composure. She needed a few moments of rest; she might as well needed to stop thinking on the compliment to her new dress. Honey and bees were perhaps a Hufflepuff classic but Poppy adored the colours and couldn't resist asking Julia to tailor it a bit to her frame. Imelda didn't know, absent from home and stuck at the Pitch most days these past few weeks. Thinking on it, it might have not been the dress her eyes were navigated to. Lips or collarbones?

Imelda suggested, "Let's move to canteen? It's just about the corner. But before then, I've forgotten something. Go without me, I'll catch up."

Poppy asked, if she could help. Imelda's answer was, "But you don't know the layout, what if I lose you somewhere here?"

"You can hold my hand. Like at school, remember?"

Imelda chuckled. That same day madam Kogawa walked on them when they were kissing against the lockers in the changing room.

"Okay. Sure. Why Not, but don't jump at spiders. Cristyn thinks her wifey wouldn't know of her acromantula hobby if the colony lives in the basement, here." Imelda pointed at the wooden lid in the corner, shadowed beneath darkened stones. Poppy's hand in hers. "Daresay, she failed at it."

"Cristyn? That small bean, I meant, woman, Julia buys fangs from?"

"Mhm." They clicked on the floor towards the corridors leading to the changing rooms and showers.

"Does the League's management know?" Poppy asked.

"Yup."

Poppy stood in place for a second, "I don't understand, how."

"Me neither. But as long as they're peaceful, I can't care less. But, Pops, let's not make it into anything… You know. No more. No less."

Ah. Imelda Reyes, frightened of a few flesh-eating spiders. No kisses and tight embraces against the lockers it is then. For now.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

1, 3 and 34 for the writer ask game!

Hello my friend! 💜

Do you prefer writing one-shots or mulit-chaptered fics?

Well... I think right now I prefer writing multi-chaptered fics, but I have a few one-shots in the works.

I like a long story, and I like the way the physical break between chapters changes how I read and write stories. As much as I hate a cliffhanger, I love the way a page break adds to the tension of a story.

I also like multi-chaptered fics as a writer because it lets readers interact with me and influence the story. The Gaz and Soap interludes in Slasher Handler came from asks, and they helped me flesh out their characters in my head and decide where the story is going. @mi-i-zori had a huge hand in helping me decide how I want Simon and Bambi to interact in Transferrable Skills.

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

Whoo. This will be long!

First, I do an "Okay So...!" summary. Basically, I ramble in the discord or write in a physical notebook anywhere between a sentence and (checks notes) 1500+ words. It's a bit unorganized. Some of it is quotes, a lot of it is "script" format dialogue, most of it is rushed transitions. There's a lot of placeholder text that represents its own couple of paragraphs.

(For example: I'm working on making the idea from this post into a one shot. That bit of ramble is 222 words. That part of the story that I'm actually writing became 1931 words. It's gonna be a long-ass project.)

From there, I workshop with friends and my partner. If I'm rambling directly in discord, I'm rolling with some of what my friends are telling me. My partner asks me the really annoying necessary questions, like "why this scene?" and "does that help get you to the smut?" and "are you letting your blorbo be a blorbo or are you trying to force a story you don't want to tell?"

Then I write a first draft. Sometimes the first draft is the only draft, but that's not the case very often anymore. I try to let myself be wordy and imperfect. Get the more detailed idea out in chunks of a few paragraphs, then reread and put in more details.

If there are multiple people in a scene, then I start with dialogue and inner thoughts, then physical actions. In this chapter of Autumn Embers, I wrote the dialogue between Gaz an Wildfire without any direction, then added in the handshakes, Wildfire arching an eyebrow, stepping to the side of the walkway, etc.

Then I let my partner read it! And he points out all of my typos.

Then I shuffle paragraphs around, and fill in spots that become a bit awkward, and then I show my partner again. And then I share it in the discord. Then I unashamedly BASK in the endorphins I get from my friends interacting with the story.

Then I rinse and repeat! Eventually, I identify where the chapter breaks are going to be, if I haven't already.

I do most of my writing in Scrivener, which allows you to write documents within documents and move them around. Sometimes I have chapters already separated. Sometimes I keep a long "working document" and then break it into chapters.

Tagging the people who I riff with often: @sentientcave, @gemmahale, @mortuarywriting, @mi-i-zori, @cordeliawhohung, @cosmicpro, and I'm missing so many other people who's blogs I can't recall off the top of my head or don't know if they'd be okay being tagged.

34. Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer?

Five years from now I'll still be writing fanfiction, though I'll probably have moved to other fandoms by then. I think I'll probably still write CoD, since I still love all of my past blorbos.

I think that by 2029, I will also be finishing up editing an original novel that I want to publish, if I'm not already publishing the second one. I've already written most of 3 novels, and plan to do another one next month.

I do not see myself writing full time, or relying on it as a source of income. I wouldn't be opposed, but I want my writing to be for me, first and foremost. When it's a job, it becomes about what other people want, and I don't think I'd be ready for that by then. Still, it would be fun to get the original stuff out there.

Ask Game