#this is ridiculous. hank doesn't know how to handle anything like this and only make things worse

[marcusrobertobaq]

If there's something both fathersonners and hankconnies suck at is keeping Hank's "assholeness" and sarcastic jokes.

Dude is the type mf that would joke bout Connor dating other androids, esp girls, and start talking how all this shit's just a big pain in the ass and how it's better if Connor keep far from humans in this sense 😂 (cuz Connor looks so fucked up he gonna scare mfs)

C'mon, man. Dude jokes bout Connor going to the Eden Club just to see some pretty boys and girls. Connor literally jokes bout mf's interest in machines finally making him being "useful" to the investigation and straight up call mf a dude without life purpose. When they diverge in opinions is even better.

Shippers just ruin 'em dynamic in a way I get surprised how the fucking hell they like a "fanon" so boring. I won't even comment bout fathersonners...

Mfs got the power of ruining one of the best aspects of 'em dynamic (this exchange in sarcasm and questionable jokes - and ofc the swearing) just to put Hank in a good light and get Connor in a toddler's place. This "blorbo" thing, keep it away from me.

I already gotta put up with the game's narrative never punishing Hank for anything and Connor always taking the bad shit for himself and the game punishing u for being real (cuz he's an android), mfs keep saying they're the best part of dbh and the first thing they do is removing the only interesting part of 'em shit just for some stupid romantical interest that basically doesn't fucking exist in canon with everything becoming a uwu or a father/son role selection that is a slap in Hank's almost inexistent character development face, turning him into everything he had always criticized instead of exploring his already existent ideals and trauma, expanding it. Cuz, man, this son of a bitch got lotta shit to learn and Connor bites - dude ain't yo silly lil uwu twink boy. U say shit like that I already know u think he's a "android detective". Yeah, my dick inside your ass.

[imagine-mr-markus]

Birthday Candles

I had to write sumn for my fave Dad on his birthday, but i got a teeeensy bit distracted watching Hellbenders so its a leedol late, sorry! But yes, here we have some tasty tasty fluff of my boys in honour of The Birthday. And not an all an apology for the fact that the next two I’m working on are just Angst of my Cyberlife Boys, absolutely not

Hank Anderson, at the ripe age of 53 and 364 days, fucking hated birthdays. Hated the smell of cake and frosting and the cheerful wishes of others. What he hated most about them, however, was the birthday candles. The smell of them, the sight of them, even the fucking mention of them was enough to sour his mood beyond recognition, no matter how good it had been before. It hadn't always been like that; in fact, it had only been like that for two years and three hundred and twenty-nine days. Twenty-five thousand, four hundred and sixteen hours. One million, five hundred and twenty-four thousand, nine hundred and sixty seconds. The calculations flash irritatingly behind his eyes like they always have, and he shakes his head as his mood dips. He knows exactly why he hates those brightly coloured little sticks of wax so vehemently.

 They'd been Cole’s favourite.

 It had been a kinda stupid tradition his own mother had started when he was a kid to wake him up at exactly midnight on his birthday with a cake. There would always be another cake later, one for the party and the guests, but at midnight, when the world was quiet and the lights were out, it was just for the two of them to sit and eat a slice after he'd eagerly blown out the candles. Melissa had thought it was the cutest shit to grace this earth and had insisted on carrying on the tradition after they started dating, and he could easily admit that it was appreciated. It'd been part of what kept them together in the long stretch of time when they'd nearly fallen apart after pregnancy test after pregnancy test came back negative. But no matter how bad the fight, every birthday was ushered in with birthday candles and cake at midnight. It had only gotten better after Cole was born, the joy of the new baby and their much firmer foundation on marriage making for a much more relaxed morning. As soon as Cole had seen birthday candles, he’d been enraptured in the way only a child could be, and the new tradition that Cole always helped blow out the candles was born. For a solid portion of his life, Hank’s favourite smell in the world was the smell of the sweet smoke from the vibrant little pillars of wax.

 But not anymore. Not for one thousand and fifty-nine days.

 In the time Connor had been living with him, two hundred and ninety-eight days, his brain helpfully supplies, he's gotten much better at dealing with problems without the use of alcohol. In fact, he hasn't had anything stronger than a beer in months. But tonight, tonight the bar looks more tempting than he'd ever care to admit. He tilts his head slightly as he eyes his keys, fingers itching to make a break for it before Connor gets home. He could do it. Could grab his keys and be out the door. Connor would be disappointed, but he'd understand. Connor was good like that. He could-

The sound of the door startles him out of his reverie, the excited tapping of big paws on the floor following soon after.

 “We're home!”

 Hank turns away from his keys abruptly, mustering a smile as he looks towards the Android stood in the doorway.

 “Hey, Connor. How was your walk?”

 The kid offers him a smile before he bends to undo Sumo’s leash.

 “It was good! It's getting chilly out, but the leaves are starting to change! I like the orange ones best.”

 Some of Hank’s misery eases at Connor’s easy enthusiasm, and his smile is more genuine.

 “That's good. I like the orange ones too.”

 He pauses a moment to gather himself, mentally flipping the bird at his cravings for booze before continuing.

 “So, whaddaya want for dinner?”

 Connor doesn't need to eat, but after the revolution Kamski whipped up some fancy ass robotics that allows him to if he wants. It's nice to sit and eat with somebody again, even if the kid is way too addicted to coffee now that he can taste it. Connor tilts his head as he moves towards the kitchen, an easy grin pulling at his mouth.

 “Can we get Chinese?”

 Hank shakes his head fondly at the kid. Another one of his favourites was Chinese takeaway, and they'd eaten it with fair regularity. Although, Hank is kinda grateful. The kid’s been trying to learn to cook, but his skills aren't…. incredibly tasty as he insists on doing it ‘the human way’. The familiarity of it all helps ease the weight on his lungs, helps pull some of the itch from his fingertips.

 “Yeah, Con. We can get Chinese.”

  _____________________________________________

 “Hank, wake up!”

 His eyes snap open at the sound of Connor’s voice, hand going for his gun as he searches for what made the kid wake him.

 “What is it? What's wrong?”

 “Nothing. Happy birthday!”

 He looks at Connor properly, taking in the sight of the kid grinning at him excitedly from beside his bed. He's dressed in Hank’s old clothes, a hoodie too big even for him swallowing the Android whole and pair of ratty flannel pants from Hank’s much younger days hanging off his frame. He's got flour down his front and a streak of bright blue frosting on his forehead, LED shining a bright, contented blue at his temple as his eyes sparkle with excitement in a warm, flickering light. And before he even looks down at what he's holding, Hank knows it's cake adorned with candles. He can smell it, the sugary sweetness clinging to the back of his throat and the scent of melting wax in his nose. A sharp pang of something ugly strikes at his chest, a deep hurt pulsing behind his ribs and a flare of an irrational fury between his lungs. He can feel his face twist with it, and he sees Connor’s expression fall as his LED spins yellow.

 “Did…. did I do something wrong? I thought this is what family did on birthdays.”

 The kid looks heartbroken at the thought that he fucked up, doe eyes falling to look at the cake as his mouth turns down like he's about to cry. The expression pulls at that softness in him he had kept buried for so long, the gentle instinct to comfort and console. It was an instinct he'd always had; part of the reason people had been surprised he'd taken the promotions from beat cop upwards when he was one of the few cops who could handle kids well. It was where he'd gotten the idea for kids of his own, and that feeling had only grown exponentially once he did have a kid. Melissa had been a great mother, but it had always been Hank who would roll out of bed whenever Cole cried in the night, and Cole had very clearly been Daddy’s Boy. Melissa used to joke that if they ever had another she had dibs, but the fact remains that Hank has always been better with kids because he's a fucking bleeding heart who can never turn down a crying child. And he may logically know that Connor is not a child, but that doesn't change the fact that with his lower lip stuck out slightly and his big brown eyes ready to fill with tears at any moment and drowning in clothes too big for him, he sure as hell looks like a little boy that's been scolded. And that sets off that tender heart of his hard enough he grimaces before what Melissa used to call the “Dad Spirit” switches on. His tone gentles out of reflex, and he adjusts himself on the bed to sit up properly as he sighs slightly. He softens his shoulders, looking at Connor earnestly with forgiveness and apology in his gaze.

 “No, Connor, you didn't do anything wrong. I was upset, but not at you, alright?”

 Connor blinks up at him hopefully.

 “Really?”

 Hank can't help the little curl of his mouth at Connor’s question, nodding a little. He's bracing himself for what comes next, but for just a second, it's alright.

 “Really, kid. Now c’mere, lemme see it.”

 As quick as it had gone, that unbridled excitement is shining out of the kid’s every goddamn pore as he eagerly presents the cake. Finally, Hank forced himself to look at it, and he nearly loses his goddamn mind right then and there. It's ugly, there's no getting around it, but endearingly so in that way that screams of love poured into the batter. The cake is uneven and lopsided, and smothered liberally in baby blue frosting. There are candles neatly sunk into it, and Hank knows without a doubt there are fifty-four of them arranged precisely in concentric circles. And there, in the middle, spelled out in neat lettering that he can recognise as Connor’s own personal font (though the frosting is wobbly and has been badly fixed) are the words “Happy Birthday, Dad!”. A shaky smiley face has been added beneath, and its obscenely cute. There's suddenly something in Hank’s throat. Connor has never called him Dad before, and it makes his own mouth wobble treacherously. He coughs a little before speaking, ignoring how thick his voice is.

 “You make this yourself? I thought you didn't have any cooking protocols.”

 Connor looks almost ridiculously proud of himself as he nods excitedly

 “I did! I was tempted to download necessary coding, but I wanted to do it like a human, so I followed the recipe in the cookbook above the refrigerator! This one was labelled as your favourite!”

 His mother’s cookbook. He hadn't touched it in years, and the only time Melissa had ever gone near it was for that specific recipe. The last time he'd used it, he'd been making Cole’s cake. Connor had found it, he'd made him his mother’s birthday cake, and Hank isn't crying, he isn't goddamnit-

 “Hank? Are you alright?”

 He clears his throat again and scrubs a hand over his face to wipe away any damning evidence.

 “Yeah, Con. I'm alright, just got something in my eyes. C’mon, the candles are starting to drip onto the cake.”

 He crosses his legs so there's room on the bed, and Connor moves easily to perch in front of him. It takes a second of him considering his own legs with a yellow LED before he crosses them like Hank’s, a pleased little grin turning his mouth. You wouldn't know it if you only saw him at work, but the kid was gangly and faintly awkward when it came to anything related to sitting. It had taken months for Hank to break his habit of sitting ramrod straight with his knees together and hands on his thighs. Now the kid would sprawl all over the couch, but he was still like a pubescent boy learning how to use his own limbs and how to arrange them, almost like a fawn learning to walk. It shouldn't have been as adorable as it was, but Hank has given up on trying to deny how fond he is of the kid. He shakes his head as Connor sets the cake down on the bedspread, and he stares at the cake for a long moment with a strange mixture of joy and grief and fondness and sadness in his chest like a bruise. He lets out a slow breath and looks up at Connor with a smile.

 “Well? Are you gonna sing to me or not?”

 Connor brightens and nods, but a brief show of yellow spins at his temple before he turns his head.

 “Sumo! Come here!”

 There’s a quiet boof from the living room before big paws thud towards the room, and the shaggy dog trots into the room to sit beside Connor expectantly. The kid gives the dog a fond pat before turning back towards Hank. His smile widens as he takes a deep breath, something he doesn't technically need, before he starts to sing, and Sumo awoos quietly with him in an odd harmony.

 “Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday dear da-ad

Happy birthday to you!”

 Ok, Hank is crying. He’ll admit it. It's one thing to see it written out in the cake, it's another to actually hear Connor call him Dad. And while it's not a surprise, he's thought of Connor as family for a while now, it brings a painful lump to his throat and a feeling filling his chest to hear someone refer to him as Dad and mean it. It's a feeling he hasn't had in one thousand and sixty days, and he had missed it dearly. He scrubs at his eyes again, sniffling a little.

 “C'mere, kid. Help me blow out the candles.”

 Connor gives him a brilliant grin and scrambles to sit next to him, carefully manoeuvring around the cake. He picks it up to settle it on their knees, Hank’s right knee supporting the left side of the plate and Connor’s left supporting the right.

 “Ready, kid?”

 “Ready, dad!”

 That feeling clogs his throat again for a second before he offers Connor a nod. He bends closer to the cake, and Connor follows suit as they inhale. He blows out a good chunk of them, and Connor catches the rest with ease before laughing a little. It's not exactly a new sound, but Hank feels downright fucking blessed to hear it if he's honest with himself. Connor doesn't laugh too often, not outside the house, and it still feels special to hear the kid be so human. He's still fucking crying, but they’re good tears. Cathartic is the word, he thinks. A fork is offered to him, and he takes it gratefully. The hurt weighing on him hasn't gone away, he doesn’t think it ever will, but it's shifted, moved some, become lighter, and he rolls his shoulders back slightly as he sits up a little straighter. He's moving to take a bit of the cake when Connor gasps beside him, and he turns with a raised eyebrow.

 “What is it?”

 “I almost forgot!”

 The kid plunges his hand into his pocket, pulling out a very familiar, very worn old Polaroid camera. Hank blinks at it, taken aback. He hadn't known he'd still had that around the house.

 “The fuck you find that thing?”

 Connor beams at him.

 “In the boxes in the garage, along with the photo albums! They were shoved in the back, but I found them while I was cleaning over the summer. It's where I got the idea to make you cake!”

 There's that funny rolling in his stomach again, like overwhelming happiness and sadness mixing like oil and water in a shaking bottle. But it's… it's good. Like the tears. Cathartic. He nods, gesturing with the fork.

 “Alright, well let's get this show on the road. I wanna eat my cake.”

 Connor laughs again, and Hank grins at him as he slings his own arm over the kid’s shoulder to bring him closer as he raised the camera.

 “Sumo! Come get in the photo!”

 The dog bounds easily up onto the bed, big head bumping at Connor’s forehead as he sniffles at the frosting there. Hank chuckles and shakes his head as he looks at the camera, making sure the text on the cake is visible as Connor presses the button. The flash is temporarily blinding, but he blinks it away as the camera spits out the sheet of thick film. Hank doesn't shake it like his mother used to, he knows better than that. He wants this one pristine if he can help it, especially because he's going to want copies of this shit. Eventually, maybe soon, maybe not, he'll stick it in the photo albums Connor found. The ones he hasn't had the guts to look at for years. But maybe…. maybe with Connor sitting next to him, he can focus on the good times as he tells him the stories about the photos. The kid is still pressed firmly into his side from Hank’s arm around his shoulders, and it's a good feeling, to sit beside someone. No, not just someone. His son. He knows Cole is never coming back, his little boy is gone, but maybe someday he'll see him again. And with any luck, he'll get to introduce him to his older brother.  Well, younger brother? It's a comforting, if slightly confusing thought, and Hank grins as he transfers his fork to his other hand so he can keep Connor close while he digs into his birthday cake. The photo develops a little while later, and Hank loves it. You can see that he's been crying, but his smile is easy, and Connor has his nose scrunched up as Sumo licks his forehead, and the cake looks even uglier in the flash from the camera and it's absolutely perfect. He’s gonna need a copy for his wallet AND his desk, goddamnit, and he might even feel brave enough to put one of his pictures of Cole beside it. It's only right that both of his boys be present, really.

 The smell of sweet candle smoke is heavy in the air, and he breathes it in. He can see Cole as he was the last time they celebrated together, green eyes sparkling and one of his front teeth missing from his broad smile as he shouted in the dark.

 “Happy birthday, dad!”

 Connor’s voice comes from beside him, and he turns to look at the kid as he smiles.

 “Happy birthday, dad.”

 He leans against Connor slightly, squeezing him gently.

 “Thanks, son. I'm glad you decided to celebrate with me.”

 And he means it.

 ___________________________________________________

 At the age of fifty-four years and one hour, Hank Anderson loves birthdays. He loves the birthday cake that's lopsided and the too thick layer of frosting and the cheerful wishes of the Android beside him. And most of all, he loves his favourite scent in the world.

 Birthday candles.

[atruththatyoudeny]

Monthly Reads | August 2019

Oh, look, it's the 28th again! Celebrating the launch of Gucci's new fragrance and the fantastic new pics I had to reread Landslide. Other than that there are 21 fics in this list - and like always: so many thanks go out to all the amazing authors in this fandom who share their stories with us! ♥

Landslide | aimmyarrowshigh , spibsy (lucy_and_ramona) | historical - 1970s - cults - undercover - psychological drama - racism - period typical attitudes - internalized homophobia - PTSD - and more...please read all the tags carefully - 143k The year is 1976. In November, Jimmy Carter will take control of the White House. Americans are meeting Laverne & Shirley at their apartment in Milwaukee. Hotel California diverges from the reign of Kool & the Gang. And the FBI is still reeling from the repercussions of Watergate, the tragedy at Wounded Knee, Operation Family Secrets, and the strategic terrors of the anti-cult movement. That's what Special Agent Harry Styles has been told is the basis of his mission to an abandoned farmhouse in rural New Hampshire. With his hair grown out long and his shirt untucked, he's going undercover to do reconnaissance on suspected cult leader Louis Tomlinson, who has led a group of people out into the middle of nowhere, leaving no record of the life he'd had before. All Harry knows is what the agency gave him: Tomlinson's name, and instructions to figure out what he's doing with the eleven people he brought with him. In the year that Harry spends undercover and under Louis Tomlinson's wing, he learns more than he ever expected.

I Drove All Night (To Get To You) | lovelarry10 | famous/not famous - strangers to lovers - pining - fluff - 23k Harry’s job as a chauffeur for the rich and famous was not as flashy as he’d thought. Late nights having to listen to the ridiculous demands and whims of these high profile clients leaves him disheartened with the world he thought was all glitz and glamour. One night his boss asks him a favour. To collect one last client before he clocks off. Only problem is when that client gets into the car it’s Louis Tomlinson. As in Harry’s all time crush. As in future husband and father of all his children Louis Tomlinson. He can be cool and professional, right?

Live Like You Were Dying | YesIsAWorld | car accidents - love confessions - self discovery - 2k I’m in love with you. The phone fell from his hand, and the world went black.

Calling Clifford | noellehenry | fluff - humor - 10k The summer AU where Clifford has his own peculiar ways of matchmaking.

Home Remedies | kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie) | friends to lovers - smut - 4k Louis’ hiccups just won’t stop. Harry, his roommate and best friend, is willing to do anything to help.

Traffic Light | dinosaursmate | Traffic Light Party - smut - friends with benefits - 7k Harry, a university student fresh out of a relationship, attends a Traffic Light Party. He knew all about the red, yellow and green cups, but the blue one confuses him. What does DTF mean, anyway?

Down On the Farm | kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie) | bonfires - farm/ranch - smut - 5k Every Friday night there's a steady cloud of dust That leads back to a field filled with pickup trucks Got old Hank crankin', way up loud Got coolers in the back, tailgates down There's a big fire burnin' but don't be alarmed It's just country boys and girls gettin' down on the farm — “Down On the Farm” by Tim McGraw

Driving On The Wrong Side, Thinking Of You | dinosaursmate | Marcel AU - implied/ referenced homophobia - High School AU - friends to lovers - promiscuity - 25k Louis is the most popular guy in sixth form. Don't get the wrong idea, he's a good guy, and he absolutely won't stand for his friends teasing his neighbour, Marcel.

Restless Lane | jaerie | a/b/o - secret identity - childhood friends - secrets - friends to lovers - angst - 14k Louis had grown used to his boring life back in Mississippi as a stand-in father figure to his siblings. He never expected his childhood friend to show up on his lawn with the heat of summer or that he would remind Louis how much of himself he'd tucked away and neglected. He also never expected to find himself caught up in a tangled web of feelings or secrets that just might break him. Maybe he had never known Harry at all.

Waiting for the tides to meet | nauticalleeds (metamorphosis) | soulmates - pining - miscommunication - angst - fluff - friends to lovers - slow burn - 60k Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart. Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

If I Stay | Rearviewdreamer | Walk In The Clouds AU - fake/pretend relationship - mpreg - slow burn - 37k Harry and Louis agree to a temporary arrangement that Harry can't seem to walk away from no matter how many times he tries.

Mirror Touch | pinky_heaven19 | Synesthesia - hurt/comfort - fluff - pining - strangers to lovers - 58k The one where Harry owns a second-hand clothing store, and Louis is a radio host. Louis has mirror-touch synesthesia, which makes him experience what people around him feel. He feels a lot around Harry.

In Your Black Heart (Is Where You'll Find Me) | graceling_in_a_suit | a/b/o - omega/omega - pirates - historical - 36k Louis Tomlinson has been lying for five years. His crew sees him as a pirate, a Captain, and an alpha; only two of those are the truth. He was content to let the illusion go on forever, but an omega named Harry Styles just had to join his crew and get his warm-vanilla stink all over Louis' best laid plans. Or: the story of The Captain and The Carpenter.

Supposed to Be | kikikryslee | High School - stereotypes - enemies to friends to lovers - slow burn - hate to love - 26k The Geek Charming AU where Harry's a film geek, Louis' a popular jock, and they both need each other to get what they want.

Meet me where the tulips grow | tempolarriefics | study abroad - fluff - 19k The one where Harry studies abroad and falls in love with both the city of Amsterdam and the boy he explores it with.

When i'm set alight | mixedfandomfics | teacher AU - hate to love - misunderstandings - 14k Louis and Harry hate each other. Always have, always will. No one is quite sure how they will handle it when their favorite students ask them to lead a new LGBT club at their school.

Breathe In, Breathe Out | dinosaursmate | friends to lovers - pining - 12k Louis Tomlinson begins visiting a new pub on his lunch break, mostly because he really fancies Harry, the cute, curly-haired barman. As Louis gears up to ask him out, he doesn't realise that there is a huge stumbling block in his way: Harry is taken, and by someone rather familiar.

I am mad all about you | godslut | med students - coffe shop - 5k Harry is a pre-med student trying to quit coffee. louis pretends to be spider-man to make kids laugh.

Welcome Back From The Friend Zone | 2tiedships2 | a/b/o - friends to lovers - fake/pretend relationship - mutual pining - 32k The one where an idea to create a fake wedding with the sole intent to receive gifts from billionaires took a turn no one, but also everyone, saw coming.

A Life That's Good (series) | lovelarry10 | fluff - kid fic - adoption - light angst - 66k Harry and Louis were married young, but always knew that they wanted a family together. Soon, through adoption, Hope came into their lives, and was later joined by her younger brother Oscar. Join the Tomlinsons on their journey in family life. ①  You're My Only Hope Harry and Louis have been hoping to start a family for a while, but it hasn't happened for them just yet. With the surprise arrival of a newborn baby on the doorstep at work, are their family dreams about to become reality? ②  Tiny Dancer It's Hope's first ballet recital, and Harry and Louis are more than excited to watch their four year old daughter perform for the first time. ③  Who You Are Things are going wonderfully for Harry and Louis. Their family has never been stronger. When a connection to their son’s past appears out of nowhere, it makes them wonder what lies ahead for the future of their family. ④  We Got Love Harry and Louis thought their family was complete. They were wrong. ⑤  Follow Your Arrow Hope has a crush, but she’s scared to tell her parents, especially Louis. Harry helps her figure out how to break the news to her other dad, who is ultimately nothing but wonderful. ⑥  Summer Love The Tomlinsons are off on a summer holiday before it’s time for everything to change...

Night Changes | colourexplosion | soulmates - supernatural elements - werewolves - light angst - 40k Louis and Harry are soulmates. (With a twist.)

From The Heart | jacaranda_bloom | coffee shop AU - 25k Every Tuesday, Louis spends his day off holed up in his favorite coffee-come-bookshop, writing his little stories as part of the WordPlay challenge while daydreaming about the resident barista, Harry. Each week a new word prompt is revealed and Louis adds to his series of short stories about Henry, the owner of a B&B in the Cotswolds who has curly hair and dimples, Lewis, his long term guest who just happens to be a writer, and Tigger, Henry’s cat. As Louis and Harry’s friendship develops, could his fantasy world spill out into real life? And how does that reader who leaves the lovely comments with the teacup emoji seem to be able to read Louis’ mind? ①  Henry and Lewis Louis hangs out in his local coffee shop to work on his weekly WordPlay Prompt, speaks to his beloved muse aka Harry the gorgeous barista, embarrasses himself in front of said muse, and receives a comment on AO3 from his favourite reader. ②  Smuturday Louis struggles with this week's WordPlay prompt before finding inspiration, and a date, in an unexpected place, and could there be more going on with his favourite reader than he originally thought. ③  Tea For Two Louis grapples with what to do about his new found suspicions over his favourite readers real-life identity. ④  Life Imitating Art Louis is taken on a very real journey through his fic back catalogue - life has never imitated art so salaciously. ⑤  Entertain Me All good things must come to an end, including the WordPlay challenge. But while Louis has mixed emotions about its end, and struggling to make sense of the final prompt, he is relishing every aspect of his newly revitalised personal life.