#bhf face

Hello! I am here to regale you with the tale of how my Saturday at Fan Expo went! So it started with how I could not fucking sleep the night before. Fitful, I kept waking up over and over and finally got out of bed before nine. I hung around for a while, did a face mask, painted my nails, showered, got ready and into my fit for the day. We departed slightly after noon and grabbed some food and made our way to Toronto. We get there and park in the usual place and make the couple block hike to the convention centre, the check in process went smoothly and then, it was time to shop around. 

We went from the North building to the South building, much more interested in checking out niche’ vendors and artists’ alley, I was in there for less than an hour before I had to break away to run to the photo op. Mr.Bex gives me a kiss on the cheek and told me, “Try not to cum in front of them.”

“Easier said than done!” I called as I run off. Now, last year it took me forever to get back to the North building, so I left with an hour before my time I had to be there. On the way, I see a Ghostface in a very cute almost magical girl outfit, short flouncy skirt and a bedazzled pink mask. I am looking at them, they see me looking, and they give me a pose and a peace sign, I grin and give one back, a super fun moment. I get to the North building and the photo op space in less than twenty minutes. So that means I get to toddle around the dealers floor. I do so, take in some cosplays, contemplate some purchases, they had an old full sized classic Scream one poster for twenty bucks, but I passed on it. 

Finally, it’s time to go get into the actual line. I’m in line 13, in the first group for the Matt and Skeet time slot, and I made like six friends while in line. Everyone was very into my outfit, one girl had a tattoo on her arm that said, “My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me.” We were all losing it. Another girl was there with her partner and she was in a 600 dollar custom fitted movie accurate Ghostface costume, with the glitter fabric and all, it was shockingly impressive. She especially liked my shirt and was impressed by the fact I made it, and asked aloud, “Why don’t they make shirts like those and sell them?” I laughed and told her, “Well, I’ve considered it, I won’t lie.” 

It is a surreal experience listening to this assortment of hot gothy early twenty-something scream fans, many who came from whole provinces away just for this, just to be here for them, talking about how hot they are and how down bad they are while I stand next to them, having written a couple of hundred thousand words about the characters they love in question. I almost told em I wrote fic, almost. 

While waiting around, Matt ended up coming out into the line-up space?! There was a fan in a wheelchair, and he wheeled em back personally while chatting them up and giving high-fives, he was five feet from me. The photo op starts late, I don’t care, it’s fine. We scan tickets, drop bags and then are in the same curtained off space as them, they let in small groups at a time to keep it moving smoothly. My heart is fucking pounding. We make it back, there was a family in front of me, their middle kid was dressed as Ghostface and their baby was in a scooby doo onesie and Matt held him for the picture, so cute. 

Our especially extra Ghostface friend from the line was right in front of me, and then it’s my turn. I make sure my extra shirt is pulled to the side, Two Boys Are Better Than One proudly displayed, and I move. I greet them with a “Hi!” 

Skeet gave me a very cool sounding “Hey” and Matthew made eye contact with me and gave me a polite nod with a, “Hello.” That I can only say was said in a very him way. 

I asked, as I was moving in, “Can I be in the middle?”

And Matt had this expression with that sort of half smile he does, brows pinched together as he nods, telling me like it should be obvious, “Oh of course.” 

I get in between them, and Matt’s hand is on my shoulder, Skeet’s hand is on my lower back and my hand is on Matt’s lower back and my other hand holding onto Skeet’s side (and fucks sake he is firm.)

I got an extra second because the photographer directed me to lower my head, so I wouldn’t get glasses glare, I assume. I revel in the extra seconds and contact, the picture is snapped, and I break away, without thinking I sort of pat Skeet’s side, and he returns the gesture and tells me, “Good job.” 

Skeet fucking Ulrich told me good job. 

Bury me now. I am done for.

I get my bag, I get my picture, I get it framed, and I go find Mr.Bex. He and I leave the con, we get back to our car, and then go to a tattoo shop where my friend Mel gave me my You Might Be The Killer tattoo. We drove home, I slammed several slices of pizza, and now I am writing this for you! 

It was. Fucking amazing, I loved it so much, it was more than worth every penny. Now I can officially say, I am That Cunt that wore a shirt baring my super pornographic smut fic’s title on my tits while getting a picture with the two guys who inspired it all.