#beard can be a social guy when he wants to be but he's ALWAYS social with ted

[coachbeards]

i think one of the funniest concepts about beard + ted is just...the idea of beard Only going to work related events on the condition that ted is there, too. like if he shows up and "is ted here?" and he's told no? he's leaving.

[holylulusworld]

A perfect gentleman

Summary: Your trip to Great Britain changed your life forever.

Pairing: Raymond Smith x fem!Reader

Warning: bitchy friends, meet cute, sex with a stranger, smut, protected sex, unprotected sex, public sex, shower sex

You bobbed your head to the song blaring from the loudspeakers. It was the only thing you could do. That, and watching the others dance with men they just met. Grinding into them – their intentions clear.

Maybe you are not the most social person, but being in a place with so many people spiked your anxiety.

You shuddered and ripped your gaze from your friends to order another drink. Something light. You never were much into alcohol.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself,” a man plopped down next to you and dipped his head. “How can I help you relax?” He purred and moved his hand to your thigh.

“You could start by stopping to touch her,” another man suddenly stood behind your back. He pushed the other guy off you and glared at the stranger touching you. “Is that the way to welcome tourists now?”

“Man, she looked lonely,” the man grunted but made space for the second guy. “Didn’t know you called dips on her already, Raymond.”

“Get lost,” Raymond snapped at the man. You flinched and tried to make yourself as small as possible while the men fought. “We don’t harass ladies at my favorite place.”

“Alright, alright,” the man huffed. “She’s not worth the effort. You can have her.”

“Hey, are you okay,” Raymond softly asked. He must’ve been from around, because of his sexy accent. You always had a thing for men with an accent. “I hope he didn’t hurt you. Some guys shouldn’t drink too much.”

“Uh-thank you,” you murmured and finally looked at the man. Raymond looked like you imagine a British gentleman, but with a dash of roughness and something hidden behind his neat appearance. 

He was wearing a navy-blue corduroy waistcoat, a slim tie with the same color, and a light blue and white striped button-down over dark wash slim-fit stretch jeans. His hair was neatly gelled back, and his beard was long but well-trimmed. Orange-rimmed clear lens glasses framed his handsome face.

“That was very nice of you.”

“A gentleman must protect a lady in need,” he grinned and sat next to you. “Let me buy you a drink for the inconvenience, and for not stepping in sooner.”

“You came the moment the man put his hand on my thigh,” you shyly glanced at Raymond. He offered his name to you and held out his hand. You placed your hand in his, feeling another shudder run through your body. This man was unlike any guy you ever met.

He screamed danger but acted like a gentleman. You could smell weed on his clothes when he leaned closer to ask you for your name. 

“Y/N,” you replied and allowed him to hold your hand for a little longer than needed. He ran his thumb over your skin, causing a tiny whimper to escape your lips. “Thank you again.”

“What brings you here, love?” Raymond leaned impossibly closer, letting you feel his warmth. “I assume you are a tourist.”

You chuckled. “What gave me away?” 

“Your accent, and I know every pretty girl in town.”He laid it on thick when he purred your name and told you that you look beautiful in your dress. He already had you when he saved you from the grabby guy, but you wanted to bask in his compliments for a little longer.

“Every single one,” you chuckled. “You’re a very busy man in that case.” 

He adjusted his glasses and smirked. “I don’t know every woman like that.” Raymond gave you a wink. “But I’d like to get to know you better.”

“My friends are still somewhere at this place,” you leaned closer to drink his appearance and scent in. You were enchanted by this man. “Probably rubbing themselves against the guys they just met.”

His eyes sparkled at your words. You were about to do the same with him. Why – you had no clue. He was handsome and charming. But there was something else drawing you in like the moth to the flame.

“Do you want to leave this place?” A question was not in his words when he got up, still holding your hand. “I promise to be a gentleman.”

You didn’t make it far. Before you knew it, you left the bar with Raymond. You ended up pressed into the wall in the dark alley behind the bar. 

He was all over you, lips devouring your mouth the moment you were out of sight. His hand slipped between your thighs, finding your panties soaked. He teased you for your floral cotton panties, moving the fabric aside to shove a finger inside your soaked cunt.

Raymond lifted you off of your feet, and you ended up in his arms, your pussy stuffed to the brim with his thick cock. 

“Fuck, this is a tight little cunt,” he puffed into your neck. Hot breath fanning over your skin. “You’ve been a good girl, huh? How many guys did you fuck behind a bar so far?”

“No one,” you held tight onto Raymond as he slowly rocked into you. “Only you.”

“You’re so good for me, love,” he whispered in your ear as mercilessly battered your cunt. He was not a gentle lover any longer. Raymond fucked up into you, all the while holding your body safe in his arms. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and started to move your hips. “Ruin me. Do it. I’m done being the good girl.”

“Aw, baby love,” he crashed his lips onto yours to silence your moans. “You met the right man to ruin you.”

“Why did you leave without us?” One of your friends asked. Janice walked inside your shared hotel room, smirking as you were reading another book. “Y/N we are on vacation. Stop reading and go out there. There is a whole new world to explore.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’ll get some dick too if you stop hiding,” your other friend snapped at you. She didn’t get lucky last night and tried to let her anger out on you. Chanel always gets lucky. Just not last night.

“Oh, I think you will have enough fun for all of us,” you hid that you were the one getting a perfect dick last night. Well, they wouldn’t have believed you. You never take a risk. This includes fucking a stranger behind a bar. “Don’t forget to wrap it before you let any dick get near you.”

 “It’s their job,” Janice huffed. “I only need my lipstick and nothing else.”

You bit your tongue. Last night you were the one making sure that you didn’t take a bigger risk. Raymond was all too eager to fill you, but you insisted on protection. Even though you were a horny mess wanting nothing more than to feel him bare inside of you.

“Have fun reading,” Janice snapped at you. “We are going to meet up with some girls we met last night and tonight, we’re going back to the bar. Tonight, I’ll get lucky and fuck a British guy!”

“Don’t wait for us to come back today. You’re no fun to be around since you and Ransom broke up,” Chanel added. A low blow to your fragile heart.

With your friends gone, you had the time to enjoy the city. You explored the usual spots tourists would seek out and ended up in a nice little café to have a break.

It was close to your hotel, and you could enjoy the sun as long as you wanted to. 

At least no one tried to hit on you here or called you boring for enjoying your tea and biscuits.

“This must be fate,” a familiar voice said. Raymond stopped short in his tracks when he recognized you. “What brings you here?”

“I was—” You licked your lips at the sight of Raymond. Today he was wearing a soft camel tan shawl cardigan and a skinny burgundy tie over his dark wash jeans. He looked as perfect as ever when he claimed the empty chair on your table, “having a break from exploring town.”

“Sightseeing,” he nodded thoughtfully. “I see.” Raymond eyed you up and down in your simple shirt, cardigan, and a pair of worn-out jeans. “I could give you the Smith tour to show you all the secret spots no tourist ever saw.”

“Smith tour?” You wrinkled your forehead.

“That’s my surname, sweetness,” he smirked and nodded at the waitress to order tea and biscuits himself. “Do you want to go on that tour with me?”

“Sure,” you said a little too fast. He was still a stranger, but you let him fuck you twice last night. What else could he want? You were sure he wouldn’t hurt you and having the chance to fuck him again had you already dripping. “I’d love to see more than the usual spots.”

You didn’t see much of town. All Raymond showed you was his large, luxurious estate where he lives by himself. And you didn’t see much of it either. 

Raymond had you pinned to his mattress; his cock buried balls deep inside of your dripping cunt moments after he guided you inside his home. 

“Shit, look at you,” he purred before he claimed your lips in a heated kiss. “I could get used to having you like this. Underneath me, filled with my cock.” He kisses you again, softer this time. “Bare.”

He rocked his hips at a slow pace, dragging his thick cock along your walls. Raymond smirked as you dug your fingertips into his back.

“Raymond,” you whimpered his name. “Please.”

“Fuck, say my name again,” he buried his face in your neck to nip at your soft spot. “Now,” Raymond growled your name and gave you a particularly hard thrust. “Sweetness.”

“Raymond.”

“Again,” he snapped his hips into yours. “NOW!”

“RAYMOND!” You screamed his name on the top of your lungs. “RAYMOND!” You chanted it like a prayer. “Please.”

“Fucking take it,” Raymond whispered in your ear. “You’re meant to lie underneath me, my cock in your sweet pussy.” He slowly fucked into you, taking his time to enjoy having you again. “All I was thinking about was your cunt. I could smell you on me all day.”

Your arousal coated his cock with every thrust. It soaked the sheets underneath you, ruining the fine fabric you admired before you ended up on his bed. 

“You’re mine now,” he threatened his voice a deep growl as he kept on fucking you into the mattress. “Say it.”

He stopped moving and stared at you underneath him. “Say it!”

“’m yours, Ray…”

He kissed you again, sweet but dirty. His tongue delved into your mouth, tasting the strawberries you ate earlier. “Yes. Fuck.” You started to clench around him and tremble underneath Raymond. “Please.”

“Ohhh…fuck,” he thrusted into you, ignoring that you cried out his name. Raymond simply fucked you through your high, rhythm never faltering as you threw your head left and right. It sounded cliché, or like bad porn. But right at that moment it was all you could do because he just felt too good inside of your body. “That’s it.”

“Come inside of me, please,” you pleaded. “NOW!”

Fuck…He thought and exploded inside of your quivering cunt. Raymond didn’t stop. He trusted in and out of you, making an even bigger mess of his sheets. 

“That was,” you sighed when he slipped out of you to lie next to you. Raymond panted, and you patted his chest when he gasped for air.

“I know, sweetness.”

“Thank you for making my vacation much more interesting,” you laughed as he crawled back on top of you to kiss you softly and gently. 

“Thank you for making my shitty week better.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Smith.”

His shower was amazing. Just like the rest of his home. It was huge, and the rain showerhead was something else.

Not that you got the chance to enjoy it much. The warm water barely had the time to run down your body before Raymond was all over you again.

He stood behind you to nip at your earlobe with his teeth. His skilled hands cupped your tits, and you fell back against his chest.

“Still not enough?” He chuckled at your words. “You're insatiable.

“You’re just too cute to ignore.” He watched you turn around to cup his face to kiss him. “What are you up to, sweetness?”

“I’d love to fuck you again,” you purred his name and ran your hands over his chest. “What are you up to?”

Raymond smirked, and you knew you were in for a rougher treatment. He twirled you around, barking orders at you. “Hands against the wall.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’re playing with fire,” he was on you again, to manipulate your body. He gripped your hip with one hand and guided his weeping cock into your dripping pussy. “But I’ll not stop you from being a perfect little cockslut for me.”

You hissed but welcomed his length like an old friend. “You feel too good inside of me, is all.”

“Yeah,” he kissed your neck. “How good? Good enough to spend the rest of your vacation with me.”

“Yes.” You said without hesitation. To hell with your friends, sightseeing, and biscuits. All you wanted to do is spend time impaled on Raymond’s cock.

“I knew it,” he breathed into your neck. “You’re perfect.”

Raymond nipped at your neck while slinging his arms around your waist. “My little lost tourist.” He slowly but steadily pumped into you. “Lucky me getting inside this sweet body.”

“Oh, yes,” The warm water gently rained down on you and Raymond, and your wet bodies slid easily against one another. “Fuck, please.”

“Same, sweetness,” he growled as you started to push back onto his length. Raymond was close to losing all control. He pressed you against the wall, pumping into you with all the strength he had left in him. 

You slammed the palms of your hand against the shower wall feeling your high ripple through your body. You were panting heavily, and your knees buckled when he emptied himself inside of you. 

“No, you don’t understand,” Raymond grunted into the phone. He watched you turn around in your sleep to snuggle into his pillow. “I want you to tell me where to pick her things up. Y/N wants to spend the rest of her vacation with me, not you.”

He groaned as your friends bombarded him with questions. His patience was wearing thin, and he was close to sending one of his problem solvers to get your belongings.

“Listen, all you need to know is that she’s safe with me. No…I won’t send you a picture of her.” Cursing loudly, he looked at you.

“Give me the phone,” you yawned, and rubbed your tired eyes. “They won’t believe you, Ray.”

“Fine,” he handed you your phone, waiting for you to confirm that he’s not some psycho kidnapper holding you hostage. Even though, his cock twitched when he imagined keeping you at his home forever.

“Janice, relax,” you tried to calm your friend. “I met Raymond two days ago at the bar. Yeah, where you left me all alone. We met again at a café, and I spent the last two days with him at his home. I texted and called you, but you didn’t answer so, I believed you don’t give a shit about me and if I’m still alive.”

Janice muttered into the phone, but you didn’t care. You told her to pack your things and hand them to whoever Raymond will send to them.

One week later you sat on his couch, snuggled into one of the blankets he offered to you. “You’ve got a nice home,” you said and smiled. It pained you that in not a week you had to leave this wonderful place and the man owning it. “Maybe I can come back here one day.”

“Or,” he sat down next to you and placed his hand on your thigh, “I just keep you here forever.” Raymond nuzzled his face in your neck. “I heard you quit your job, left your boyfriend, and are looking for adventure.”

“What? I-“ you spluttered. “How did you find out?”

“Your friends are rather talkative,” he shrugged and moved his hand between your legs. “I got a big home, and a good job waiting for you. I know this is sudden, but I’d love to keep you around. What do you say?”

Tags in reblog.

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

VI. do you trust me?

parts: previously / next plot: things are getting messy. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, descriptions of surgery, angsty mcangsty pants as always, mentions of the christian God and religious practices, maybe you and bruce wouldn't have to keep so many secrets if you just made out a lil bit, :). words: 6.2k.

a/n: edit as of 2/11/24: replaced mistaken use of "officer" with "detective".

Your needle passes through skin to the beat of a steady metronome. It's made up of muscle memory, glazing your mind as your hands thread the tear together. With each pass, you're unblinking. There are three others in the room with you but they might as well be shadows, faceless and without sound, coloring your peripheral but otherwise of no concern.

The steady metronome beats on well into your final pull of the thread, well into your dismissal of the shadows, well into the comforts of your office where your brain falls out of rhythm. It's been 48 hours and you haven't found a clue.

You'd think after 17 years that you'd have forgotten his name, but you remember Detective Russo. About 5'9, a kinky black beard, and bushy eyebrows that took up good real estate on his forehead. You remembered sizing up every one of those officers, but he was the one you'd memorized. He was the one that promised you that no one would ever know you were there that night. And now Bruce knows.

He was a detective of little significance outside of that, as far as your research was concerned. He'd served a whopping total of 20 years on the force before retiring seven years ago, but without any social media presence or nearby family to speak of, you couldn't find him. Not an old address, not a phone number, nothing. It was like he'd wiped himself clean the minute he retired. Which meant you'd have to resort to plan B.

Your boss intercepts you before you can even get to the stairs, though. Rudy Moretti rarely had good timing, after all, "Hey! Early lunch?"

You think about lying for all of two seconds, "No. Headed to the police station."

Your boss' eyebrows shoot up. "Whoa, everything okay? Are one of those guys from the other night bothering you? I can come with you if you need-"

"No, no. Nothing like that. It's something personal."

Rudy shifts awkwardly, "Oh. Well, be safe. And let me know if anything like that pops up." You nod, attempting to escape, but his hand finds your elbow and stops you, "By the way... how's everything with Mr. Wayne?"

You should've expected a question like that by now. You had been officially working for him long enough to warrant it, but you still wince. "Fine." When your boss blinks at you, expecting more, you have to bite your tongue to keep from swearing, "I actually... was invited to a celebration for the Mayor. Courtesy of Mr. Wayne. She was interested in the hospital's new wing. We had a good conversation."

Like a child on Christmas morning, your boss lights up at the good news. "Oh, that's good! That's good. Did she mention wanting to come down for a tour?"

"What happened to you should have never happened in the first place. I'm glad you were able to make it out alive."

Her hand on yours should've been a comfort, and to some extent it was, but even the softness of her palm couldn't have steadied your trembling. She had squeezed tighter when she felt it, perhaps thinking you traumatized for having to recall that night. Unaware of where you'd been. Unaware of the burning need to escape before you spilled your guts on the Persian rug.

"It happens all the time," a voice came from your right, a drunken councilman with his suit jacket unbuttoned, "and it'll keep happening so long as that thug's still running the streets."

"Thug?" The mayor dipped her chin.

"With all due respect, Bella, what's your plan to put Batman in Arkham for good?"

You watched the mayor's back straighten, her eyes narrow. It was the one thing everyone was itching to talk about, and the one thing everyone was too afraid to bring up first.

You felt Bruce's knee bump yours and stiffened.

"You think he ought to be imprisoned?" The mayor asks.

"I think he ought to be drawn and quartered! It's people like him that make this city a far cry from its glory days. Inviting violence, chaos. He's single-handedly responsible for that- that homicidal freak that nearly killed you, mayor. And he's responsible for everything else this city's suffered since he started infecting it. He's a menace. It'll be a cold day in hell before this city's safe with him still on the streets."

It sickened you to hear. People who'd done nothing since being elected calling for the arrest of the one person who's made any real change in this city.

The mayor doesn't immediately speak up and you think she's chewing on his words, preparing to respond with a bit more bite. Her pause is what prompts you to speak first, "If it wasn't for the Batman, I might be dead. He's done more good for this city than bad..." you watch the councilman turn his focus to you, looking baffled as to why you were butting in, as if you hadn't just finished recounting your brush with death moments ago, "...with all due respect, Councilman Roberts."

The councilman sobers up at the heavy gaze you level on him, "Oh, no. Of course. Of course! It's good that he was there. It would've been a- been a real tragedy to lose one of Gotham's good, fine citizens. I'm just saying that... maybe these things wouldn't be happening if he wasn't there to... encourage it."

"You think he's encouraging it?" The mayor chimes in, taking a sip from her glass. Whatever she was going to say before has been shelved for the time being, it seems.

The councilman laughs. You watch him twist so that he's facing you and the mayor, holding his glass to her like a gavel for judgement, "He's a glorified criminal! He's no better than that clown we put away years ago."

"He put away, councilman. I believe you meant to say he," Bruce's first words since he'd introduced you to Bella give you a shiver. With his one arm hanging off the back of the couch, he leans in from beside you and smiles that TV smile again, "Unless you've got something you’d like to share with the class?"

Snickers break out amongst the group. You can feel Bruce's breath on your shoulder for only a passing moment, and then he's falling back into the couch and taking a swig of his wine.

The councilman bristles, clearly not a fan of being laughed at. Or being faced with the truth, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just a silly theory of mine. It's just... it would make sense for a vigilante to hide his identity by publicly denouncing himself, especially if he’s in the public eye already. I mean, it would make most people cross you off their list but... you're making me think twice about you."

You chance a glance at Bruce's face. He isn't drunk. His eyes hold a steady gaze with the councilman encroaching on your space to meet it, and even with the looseness of his body, you can tell he's calculating. His arm behind your head feels drawn tight. You can sense it in its weight near your head. He's flashing his teeth and keeping his voice light, but he's not defenseless. He's leveraging.

Your heart hammers again at what lie beneath this tower.

The councilman flushes. Sinks back into his seat, grumbling, but all eyes on him has him forcing a grin, "You're funny, Wayne. Unfortunately for your theory, I have a real job. Making real change in this city. Something Batman wouldn't understand."

That does something to you, "Maybe I'm biased, but... I've seen what he's done for this city, sir. And in the wake of last year, I think we can all agree that... well, anyone can say they're making change. Even if they're just making money instead. Perhaps it feels like Batman is doing more because we actually know what he's doing."

Bruce's leg bumps yours again. Accidentally.

You watch the councilman's Adam's apple bob, "No offense, and I'm sure you feel offended on behalf of the man that saved you, but there are laws that make sure people like me and Ms. Reál don't cross the line. What say you, when your hero takes things too far one day, hm? Who're you going to call when the Batman beats someone's brains in because people like you justify it? Or is it only okay because at least he stopped you from getting a bullet to the head?"

You're about to spew the first thing that comes to mind, probably full of anger and vitriol and a little of whatever you had to drink earlier, when you feel a hand take hold of your inner wrist. Bruce's grip is firm, but it doesn't hurt you. It's enough to stop whatever might come out of your mouth. When you look him in the eye, he's not smiling anymore.

You stare at each other like that for a few moments, not a word shared but a million thought. It was almost like he knew what you were going to say, knew how it might've made you look, made you both look. Had imagined it coming out of his own mouth too, maybe.

Instead, he releases you and turns to the councilman, "Okay, enough. We all feel pretty spirited about the topic." When the councilman scoffs, Bruce nods to you, "I think you both make good points. He's done good. He saved my doctor, of whom I never would've had the pleasure of working with otherwise. But I have to agree with you, councilman: he operates outside of the law and that is cause for concern. I'm sure these are all important issues that our mayor is working tirelessly to address, isn't that right, Mayor?"

Mayor Reál has her leg crossed over the other, eyes cutting from the councilman's to Bruce's to yours. Eventually, she smiles and raises her glass, "Indeed. This conversation was enlightening. Much to think about."

"I'm gonna get another drink." Your announcement is followed by the most graceful exit you can muster, even though your chest is throbbing with adrenaline and you can feel Bruce following you.

You don't stop until you reach the bar and have another glass in hand, doing your best to ignore his presence as he looms beside you. He allows you a full three sips before he starts talking, "Are you okay?"

The diplomat from before is long gone. He's melted, keeping his back to the group you'd just escaped and giving you such wet puppy dog eyes that it makes you want to hurl again. How could he look you in the eye?

Your hand shakes around the stem of your glass, "You're different around them."

His eyes fall to the bar top, "I am?"

"Smiling, friendly, funny..."

He cuts his eyes back to you, smiling a little, "I'm not usually funny?"

"You pretend to be laid-back around them, and I get why. But you don't do that with me. You act like I know some big secret about you and I'm this close to spilling it," you pinch your fingers together in front of his face, "or maybe you know some big secret about me."

You watch his face for any sign of recognition, but you're disappointed to find there is none. No reaction other than a sigh. "I pretend around them because I don't trust them."

"And you trust me? Even though we barely know each other?"

Uncharacteristically, Bruce tilts so close toward you that you bend back to keep some semblance of space between you, "You're asking if I trust the person I pay to keep me alive over... Councilman Roberts." He pronounces the last two words with such incredulity, then laughs right after. You note his breath smells sweet, but nothing like the wine. Had it been wine he'd been drinking? One look at his glass and you'd think so. Two looks, though...

He was stone cold sober.

You swallow, staring up into his face. Bruce doesn't back away. Questions begin to form on your tongue... destructive ones.

How do you know? How did you find out? What are you going to do about it?

Your stomach drops as you think, surely, there's quite a bit he can do about it. If he wanted to. If you made the wrong move.

His eyes narrow on you, "You look sick. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'd like to go home."

Bruce blinks, shrinks in on himself a bit, "Okay."

"I... I drove."

Bruce nods, holds a hand up to one of the suited men near the edge of the room, and turns to you, "My driver. He'll take you home."

"My... my car. I have work in the morning." You mumble pathetically.

Bruce says something to the driver when he gets close. Another man is summoned, appearing by your side in an instant. This one holds out his hand to you and it takes you a second to realize what he's asking for. You fish your keys out and drop them in his waiting palm.

It's incredibly awkward as Bruce walks you out. You think he'll stop at the front door, or the elevator, or even the lobby, but he walks you all the way to the back door of his ride and—God—even holds it open for you.

You settle in to the nice seats, blinking up at him through eyes you fight to keep dry. You wonder if Bruce would forgive you for throwing up in his car instead. "If it's any consolation," he begins, leaning on the roof of the car. You can still hear the bustle of Gotham all around you, but when he looks at you... there might as well be only him and you, "I agree with you. Councilman Roberts is a jackass."

Your boss is looking at you, expectantly. Still waiting.

"I'm sure she's thinking about it." Is your curt reply. "Is that it? I really gotta go."

Your boss deflates, but otherwise doesn't keep you.

"How can I help you?"

The cop behind the desk seems nice enough. He doesn't smile at you but his tone is pleasant, unhurried. It helps calm your nerves. "Hi. I'm looking for someone. A detective who used to work here."

"You remember their name?"

"Detective Joey Russo," you offer, watching the cop begin to type into his computer, "he retired seven years ago. I wanted to know if you could get me in touch with him. A number or a... address."

"Ah, Russo. I remember him. I'm sorry, may I ask who you are?" You give your name and the cop frowns. "You got a badge? Unless you're with the state, I can't give you anything."

You'd worried as much, "He worked a case of mine 17 years ago. Something new's popped up and I just wanted to talk to him about it."

"If it's about a case we covered, you'd have to talk to one of us about it unless he's directly involved, and even then it'd be a process." He must notice how your face falls because his own softens, "I'm real sorry. I can get you in with someone else."

You know you shouldn't be upset. After all, he was only doing his job. If they gave out personal information to every person who walked in off the street, you imagined they'd have a bigger problem with domestic terrorism than they already do.

It doesn't make it any less debilitating. Bruce Wayne had found him. That was the only way he could've gotten his hands on your file, surely. And Bruce Wayne had money, more than enough to get an ex-cop to talk.

You're thanking the man and trying not to sound as distressed as you feel when you turn and catch new eyes.

You'd only seen Batman at night, tucked into the corners of shadow of your apartment, but here he was in broad daylight—midday—standing next to a plainclothes cop who had yet to realize the vigilante was no longer listening to him. You're so relieved to see him that you actually break out into a smile.

Batman doesn't return it. Without acknowledging his partner, he stomps across the room to you, cutting off your greeting with a rushed, "Did something happen?"

You blink, unable to answer when the cop from before sidles up next to the two of you. He's got a warm, friendly look to him, even if his eyes are narrowed at the pair of you with skepticism, "You two know each other?" He asks. When Batman refuses to tear his eyes from you, the cop addresses you directly, reluctant to extend his hand without confirmation that you were friend, not foe, "Detective James Gordon. And you are?" You give your name and his eyes light up. "Hey. I know you, don't I?"

"The hostage at Gotham General," Bruce answers for him, not even bothering to glance at the detective, "they were on the news."

"You three mind moving somewhere else? The freak's making people uncomfortable." The kind cop from before has dropped all pretense now, glaring at the vigilante who, still, pays no one but you mind.

Gordon grumbles and motions for you both to follow him down a long hallway out of sight.

You struggle to keep up when the detective starts walking, much faster than he looked, and so you all but yelp when the Bat places a hand on your lower back and guides you in front of him.

A turn or two later, you empty out beside a window at the end of another long hallway, far enough away from prying eyes that the detective seems to find it sufficient.

"What are you doing here?" Batman asks immediately.

"I was looking for someone but, actually, now that you're here, I was wondering if I could talk to you." You look over at Gordon, "If you're not busy."

The detective grunts but holds his hands up in surrender, slinking down the hall out of earshot, "I'm gonna go smoke, but I need him back in ten."

When he's far enough away, Batman speaks, voice at a much lower volume than before, "What's wrong?"

"I'm looking for a cop. I need to get in touch with him but he retired and they won't tell me where I can find him."

The Bat's head tilts to the side. You can tell the gears in his brain are turning, "Who?"

"Detective Joey Russo." The Bat freezes. "Do you know him?"

He doesn't answer that, something you take note of with a funny feeling in your chest, "Why are you looking for him?"

It's your turn not to answer. You should've known he wouldn't just tell you without good reason, but your throat closes up when you think about how you'll explain it. It wasn't that you didn't trust him... but... "It's personal. Please."

"That's not enough."

"I know... I know. And I wouldn't be asking this of you if it wasn't important-"

"Then tell me why."

"I can't. But it is important. To me. I promise, it's for good reason."

"A good reason that you can't tell me? That's not enough. That's not how I work. God forbid someone finds out I gave you classified information."

"If I told you why I needed it—if I told anyone why I needed it—it would defeat the whole purpose!"

"That doesn't make you sound any more convincing."

"Batman, please," and your voice breaks as you step that much closer to him, your eyes rimming with tears you're terrified to shed, "I have never asked you for anything, have I? Not for money or your identity or anything. I am asking you for this one thing because I have no one else. You... are the only person who can help me. Please."

You see his face fall, so clear it feels like you can see right through him. Past the cowl and the facades and right into his very being. For a moment, you're just seeing the person and not the idea of him. You see your fears reflected back at you in his eyes, a deep understanding there that gives you some hope.

He draws a deep, heavy breath, and- "I'm sorry."

You're too stunned to watch him walk away.

Judith's apartment has a lack of technology and an abundance of crucifixes. The first time you'd seen it, you'd thought it was overkill. Now, since you've visited enough, it was comforting in its own creepy way. A blast into the past, memories of a grandmother who was never really your grandmother.

She startles at the stove where she's just put something in the oven, "Oh! Dear, I didn't hear you come in. Is everything alright?"

You smile and kick your shoes off by the key-holder, "I knocked. You're supposed to have your hearing aid in."

She gives you a stern look, then smiles.

You can smell hibiscus tea in the air, her favorite. She'd gather handfuls of hibiscus and dry them out in the sun, and then she'd steep their petals in hot water until it turned a deep pink. The taste was always striking, tart and strong, but she'd sweeten it with honey for you and then it wouldn't be so bad.

Without asking, she waddles over to her breakfast table where you've already found your seat and pours you a steaming cup of tea. You take the honey she's brought with her and begin to stir. "You never answered my question." Judith reminds you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, "I'm just taking a break from work, is all. Do I need to be having a bad day to visit you?"

"No, I suppose not," she sighs, taking the seat across from you, "but you do look a wreck."

You grumble. You hadn't looked in the mirror. You hadn't done anything but busy yourself in hopes that it would stave off the wave of anxious tears threatening to fall. You busied yourself until your hands started shaking and people started asking questions. And now you were here.

"Yeah. I'm sure I do. Work's... been hard."

"And besides work?"

"I don't know. I don't really have a life outside of work anymore."

Judith frowns, "You should really make some friends, dear."

That gets you to laugh. "I have friends! I have you. Are you not my friend?"

You could see the question already brewing, the narrow of her eyes as she watched you begin to fidget, "And that demon? Is he still hanging around you?"

You cast your gaze to the tabletop, "...I don't think we'll be seeing him around anymore."

"Oh?" You don't miss the hope in Judith's voice, "Did the police finally arrest him?"

"No. I think I may have... scared him off."

She doesn't respond for a while, even though you can tell from the shift in the air that she's rather pleased with this development. It makes you feel sicker to the stomach. "It might be for the best, dear," you can tell that she's being careful, minding your upset, "he's dangerous. It's best you stick to the light for now." When you don't respond, her leathery hand clasps over yours and forces you to look her in the eye, "Come with me to service this week. I've been telling everyone about you."

You snort, "About me and the demon I'm friends with?"

Judith shakes her head furiously, as if the accusation that she might have spilled your secret greatly insulted her, "They have been praying for you ever since the night at the hospital. They'd really like to see you in person one of these days. I never shut up about how proud I am of you."

Even through the despair, you feel the warmth of Judith's love. It makes you hold her hand back, gripping so tightly that you fear she may be too fragile to handle it. She doesn't seem to mind.

You two share the rest of your tea in relative silence, taking breaks to comment on the neighbors or the news or the weather (which never really changes outside of summer, but you always have something to say with her).

After a refill or two, you feel the dread begin to creep in.

"Dear, come here," Judith calls as you button up your coat at the door, "bow your head."

You frown but do as you're told. In a blink, you feel her finger swipe across your forehead in a quick motion. The familiar scent of cinnamon and myrrh hit your senses right after. You reach up to touch it but Judith captures your hand in her own. In her other is a small vial, unmarked, filled halfway with oil. "To protect you," she says, nodding gravely, "God will watch over you. You are blessed."

You want to tell her that the anointing does nothing for the stones gathering in your stomach, that the moment you walk out of this door you will be hit with a wave so sudden that you will surely drown. But you'd be lying if you said this little woman with her God and prayers didn't make you feel, even for a fraction of a second, safe. You kiss her cheek goodbye.

It's desperate, you know that. You spend the whole evening hating yourself as you pace the hardwood floors, thumbing over buttons and weighing the pros and cons.

"For emergencies only", but this was an emergency to you. It felt like one, the way it gnawed at your very center demanding blood. Every minute dreading that you'd have to see him again and pretend like you had no idea that he knew that you... You'd also spent part of the evening bent over the toilet.

At some point, you throw yourself onto your fire escape for fresh air and nearly throw the phone across the way just to breathe.

You know you've screwed up. The tentative threads of your friendship with the Bat had surely been severed. What had gotten into you, asking him for such a bold favor without anything to offer in return? You'd already given him your hands and your mind, the two things that you'd worked so hard to hone, and you would never think of taking them away.

But maybe that would be inevitable. Maybe you'd lose your license if this got out. And it wouldn't just be you carrying that burden. Every single one of you would be dug up and exposed to the world, and with Bruce Wayne involved, you couldn't imagine the lawsuits. You just couldn't. They could put you under the prison with his kind of money.

And the cops didn't even know everything.

You gasp, sob, and wrench yourself from the railing. You clench the phone tight.

Even if you could get to Russo, and even if he admitted that he gave you up, what good would it do? Bruce had already seen it. He probably had a contact at the DA's office on speed dial. You'd seen what money could do to men like him in this city. What it made men like him do to people like you. The echoes of the accusations against his father a year ago still rang in the wind, and his efforts to make up for it all would never truly make that go away. A criminal record was just as much currency as anything else. He would undeniably own you.

Somewhere between your panicking thoughts, you hear the grates of the fire escape tremor from above. You whip your head up and see a dark shape hovering a floor up. Swiftly, it descends the stairs until your eyes adjust. Your heart catches in your throat as you choke out his name.

The strangled noise causes him to pause when he turns to you. You clear your throat, "Are you hurt?" Batman's head tilts to the side. His eyes flicker from the phone in your hand and back to you. "I'm... I wanted to see you."

His shoulders stiffen. He almost looks like he didn't mean to come. A sliver of you had actually hoped he'd changed his mind, too. "I know it wasn't fair of me to ask something like that of you with no explanation. And I'm sorry. I want you to know that."

He waits, head still tilted.

You bite your tongue, tasting the blood beginning to pool on the surface.

You could tell him. Lay it all bare. And he could drop you at the GCPD without another word.

Or he could accept you. See the you that stands before him now, who had been years clean and had saved his life on your living room floor and confessed that he was why you were a better person now.

That's what friends did. Were you and the Batman friends?

Were you and Batman... anything?

"I wasn't always like this," your head throbs as you force yourself to keep talking, clenching the railing behind you with one hand, "I'm sure it's no surprise to you that I didn't just waltz through life completely innocent for thirty-something years, given where I come from. I wasn't a very good person when I was younger... and I did things I'm not proud of. And, by the grace of a very good man, a very small group of people know the true extent of that.

"But recently, I found out that someone who shouldn't know... does. And they could ruin my life if they used it against me. So I need to talk to Russo, because I need to know if he broke his promise, and then... God knows what else. I don't know. I haven't thought any further than that."

Something substantial but unclear, and if Batman were to go digging officially and find out the rest, at least you'd know Russo was the snitch.

But your heart still clenches in your chest. It feels like you are all made up of open wounds and they're all gushing blood as he watches, saying nothing. If you had really told him the truth, you imagined it would feel akin to spontaneous combustion. God, would you even be able to utter the words? It'd been so long since you'd last said-

Batman takes a slow step toward you, and the open wounds seal up at once. You are frozen.

Another, and another, until you are caged there against the railing, awaiting his verdict. Judge, jury, and... "And if he didn't? If it wasn't him that sold you out?"

You'd briefly considered that. Your friends, who were really more ghosts now than friends, had no reason to expose themselves. They'd gotten off just as easily as you did. Most of them were living lives on the other side of the country now, far, far removed from the history you shared together. Only you remained.

And who would even think to go looking into them? Outside of your history together, now sealed up and locked away, no one would look for them unless they knew what happened already.

Which only left one other option. "Then someone did—someone very close to Bruce Wayne, and there's nothing I can fucking do about it."

Batman stares at you for a while. You don't have a clue what he's looking for. "If I take you to Russo," you gasp, and he hurries his words out before you can say anything else, "it'll be the last time anything like this ever happens again. We go, we ask, and that's it."

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you."

"And I wasn't lying to you."

"What?"

"About Wayne. When you asked me if he was corrupt." You watch his eyes waver on you, eventually falling to the grates beneath your feet, and you're dumbstruck by the shift in his tone. "I never lied to you."

"I... I didn't think you had." He looks at you again. "But there are things that maybe we don't know about him," and as you speak, you place a hand on his arm, feeling it go rigid even beneath the suit, "I mean, he's a Wayne. They're older than this city. And you've seen firsthand the kind of reach people with that kind of money have. He can smile and wave and support as many good causes as he wants, but that could all be smoke and mirrors."

"You really don't trust him, do you?"

You sigh. You could almost hear Emily asking the same thing. But Emily would be smiling, and Batman is grave. Almost... disappointed. Your frown strengthens, "He's got a lot of secrets."

"So do I."

"Yeah, but you also saved my life," you chuckle, "if Wayne pushes me out of the way of a moving car, I might reconsider my stance on him."

The Bat squints at you. To your relief, you notice a bit of mirth in his voice, "No. You wouldn't."

"Listen, I am really grateful that you're doing this for me. And I wanted to say that after today, the thought of scaring you away scared me. And I would really, really like it if you could trust me. I don't want you to think that I'm taking this for granted. I'm not asking for you to take off your mask or bare your soul or anything. I just want you to know that-"

"I gave you this," the hand holding your burner is scooped up in his, held between the two of you, "because I trust you. I keep coming back because... I like... this. It's different. And I don't trust easily. If you believe me on anything, believe me on that."

A bit of your dread is chased away, and your hero is standing in the wake. Bruce Wayne is far away from this moment. He can't stain it. You won't let him. "You wanna come in for coffee?"

At that exact moment, your doorbell rings.

You see Batman jolt backwards and reflexively reach for him, using what strength you have to keep him from escaping. He watches you, wide-eyed, as you cling to his side, "Wait, wait. I wasn't expecting anybody. I'll send them off. It'll be quick."

He turns his head to the door. "You weren't expecting anyone?"

You shake your head. He shucks away your grip as he climbs through the window and takes a few, long strides to the door. He has to bend to look through your peephole, and you rush to catch up to him. After a long moment, he peers at you from the corner of his eye, "It's an old lady."

Judith. The doorbell rings again. "My neighbor. She's harmless, I'll handle it."

You expect him to walk off, find somewhere else to hide from sight, but he backs up behind the door and waits, nodding to you. Well, he was out of sight.

The door opens. The concerned look on Judith's face melts as soon as she sees you there, and holds out a pan wrapped in tinfoil, "Oh, there you are, dear. I made too much casserole so I came to give you the rest. Just in case you haven't had dinner yet."

You beam at her, taking the dish out of her hands, "Thanks, Judith. That's really sweet of you."

She returns a modest smile, but it falls away a second later. You follow her gaze past your shoulder and into the living room where- shit. "It's winter." Her brows furrow, "You'll catch cold if you keep your window open all night."

"Right! I was just... looking out over the city. Taking a breather. You caught me in the middle of it."

She presses the back of her hand to your arm and you note the very stark difference in her body temperature to yours. She frowns hard, stepping closer to you in order to whisper, "Has that demon come to see you again?"

You can't see him from where you're holding the door open, though it's your instinct to glance, but you feel yourself warming up pretty quickly, "He's not a demon, Judith."

No matter how often you repeat it, it goes in one hearing aid and out the other, "Then why does he have horns-"

"Judith, I'm fine, I swear. Even if... he did come visit, I would be fine. He wouldn't hurt me. As I've told you before."

She stares at your window, looking for little goblins with pointed tails and pitchforks no doubt. But as the curtains blow this way and that and no shadows make themselves clear, she is forced to take your word for it. "Alright," she relents, and you try not to visibly deflate, "enjoy the casserole, dear. Keep the window shut."

You watch her waddle all the way down the hallway, smile every time she glances back at you, and wait until you can no longer hear her kitten heels click-clack-clicking on the stairway down. You immediately shut the door and drop your head against it with a dull thud.

A few moments pass. You can feel him still next to you. Even worse, you can feel him trying not to laugh. "She thinks I'm a demon?"

You stand up and shove the casserole into his hands, only a little taken aback by the smile on his face when you do, "You're going to eat this casserole and then you're gonna tell that woman you're a God-fearing man and it tasted fucking delicious."

a/n: there's a scene I'm really excited to write for next chapter if it's gonna go the way I plan for it to go :)

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday @maryx0107 @vainillasmil157  @moony-toasts @sketchiethebear @trawberry-fire @hangmanscoming @agent-scorpio @julesjewelss36 @chonkercatto @dcgoddess @hollandorks @anotherr-fine-mess @calsjack @that-one-beannnn @levisfuckinmine @miriamnox @bluestuesday @dumdumsun @phoenixgurl030 @allgaslynobrakess​ @marvelouskatie​

[sl0t4matt]

could you do a fic w hector fort where him and the reader get a matching tattoo please? like something little or whatever you want hehe

h. fort | girl with the tattoo

thank you sm for requesting, i love this request! i only know very few things from friends abt tattoos so i hope i got everything right.

“hi baby how was training?” you ask hector as he slumps down the couch next to you, immediately snuggling up on you.

“it was fine. i would’ve rather stayed with you though.” he admits, laying his head on top of your lap.

you move your hands to his curls playing with them. you absolutely loved playing with his hair, since it was always perfectly curled and done. “don’t let xavi hear that.” you chuckle.

he starts grinning a little too suspicious.

“oh god, what have you done again you idiot.” with that look he must’ve done something, you thought. he smirks. “what do you mean?”

“do not play with me right now, hector. tell me!” you roll your eyes at his annoyingness.

“you know i love when you’re demanding, ma.” he winks liking his lips. you stand up not being able to deal with him right now. he knows exactly how impatient you are. he just loves pushing your buttons.

he won’t tell you. fine! he takes ahold of your wrist, immediately pulling you back.

“okay, okay i’ll tell you.” you sigh sitting back down. he smiles. “hector i swear-.”

“chill, i’m sure you’re gonna like it.” he interrupts you quickly. you furrow at him. what the hell could he mean? “okay so i got an appointment at the tattoo studio.”

“nice. what are you gonna get?” he smirks. “you mean what are we gonna get.”

“what?!” you’ve always wanted to get a tattoo but because of your school schedule you never got to doing it . you honestly also kept forgetting tbh but obviously hector didn’t.

“well i wanted to get your eyes tatted because you know how much i love them, but then i thought ‘oh y/n always wanted to get a tattoo’ so i thought why not just take you with me and we’ll get a matching one.” this boy is something else.

you grin so hard, it hurts. hector has always been affectionate moments like these remind you how much he truly is your soulmate. you jump on top of him shooting him with kisses. “i literally love you, you know that right.” he nods, laughing. “i love you too.”

“when is the appointment?” you ask. “7pm.” he shrugs. “are you serious! i don’t even know what we’re gonna get!!” you sigh, shaking your head at how your boyfriend can be so slow at times.

“we’ll get angel numbers of course. you’re a big astro girl.” hector says, referring to the time you first met him. (your first question being what his star sign is.) “wait, that’s actually a good idea.” he smiles smugly. “i know.”

…

“is it gonna hurt?” you ask hector as you enter the studio. “you don’t want me to be honest, ma.” you sigh. hector takes your hand. “i’ll go first if you want.” he says. you nod. you never had a big fear of needles. you yourself having a belly button piercing but a tattoo is different the pain is there for a while whereas when you get pierced it’s more like a poke.

you get in walking to the woman behind the counter.

“hi, we got an appointment for 7pm.” i smile at her. “of course. come with me.” she smiles back, bringing the both of you to the guy that does hector’s tattoos.

a bigger man with a beard greets us which you assume is the tattoo artist. he doesn’t quiet look scary though rather like a big teddy bear with lots of tattoos.

“the girl who’s eyes you’re getting tatted on?” he grins at hector. “yeah.” he smiles turning to look at you. hector isn’t very social with people he isn’t extremely close with, so he tries to keep his conversation as short as possible. you think it’s quiet ironic since you never seem to shut up, no matter who you’re talking to. they say opposites attract though!

he pulls out a picture handing it to him. the man nods, giving you a quick smile then takes his stuff out.

you follow hector as he sits down on a chair, extending his arm. he shows the guy where he wants it and how big it should be. the man doesn’t waste time and directly goes on tattooing him.

you sit beside him, squeezing his other hand, you being more scared of the pain he must be going through than hector himself is.

“you’re fine.” you stroke his hand, looking at him seriously concerned. “stop it you’re gonna make me laugh.” he mumbles. he’s so unserious.

it must not bother him much since he grimaces and curses on a few spots but keeps cool most of the time.

after him also getting the angel number tatto that is supposed to match with you, it’s finally your turn.

you’re pretty sure you’re gonna piss your pants as you wait in the room alone with hector because you’re so nervous. you don’t know how you’re gonna live to see see the next day after this. “you’ll be fine. it’s bad at first but you’ll get used to it. also i’m here for you, ma.” he tries cheering you up. “fucking hell.” you mutter. you’re probably going to experience the worst pain in your life here.

“are you ready?” the guy asks. with nodding your head, you go to sit on the same place hector sat when he got the tattoo.

you grip hector’s hand tightly, breaking it almost.

hector kisses the side of your face, whispering sweet words in your ear, trying to distract you from the needle that currently goes in and out of you.

“fuck.” you mutter through gritted teeth. “you’re doing so good, baby.” hector whispers. you bite your lip so hard you start tasting blood. “you wanna take a break?” the tattooer you now know as chris says. you shake your head, wanting it to end as soon as possible.

hector hates to see you like this: in pain. he hopes for it to end as soon as possible, the only thing he’s been wanting to do while you got tattooed being showering you with loving kisses, but he didn’t for the sake of chris since he’s sure he wouldn’t want to see a whole teen kissing session.

“it hurts so bad, hector.” you cry out. he moves stands of hair out of your face then cupping your face gently. “i know, baby but you got this.” he nods. the thing is you weren’t even being dramatic for once. this had the be the most hurting feeling you’ve ever experienced.

“we’re done!” chris pats your arm after he was done. your eyes meet with hectors, smiling lightly. you definitely knew you’re going to thank him at home for how he was there for you in this entire process.

[mannuh0v]

Masky/Tim Headcanons

hi hi, stopping by to say that I'm inspired and writing more and more! I hope you like it, sorry for any writing errors :)

My Headcanons Masky/Tim:

Appearance:

-This man is clearly tall, he is around 1.80 or 1.90 tall, he is not small like Toby but he is not bigger than Hoodie

-He and Hoodie are a great duo, they get along well because they know each other better. He doesn't like Toby very much, but he tries to respect him because he knows the boy's condition.

-"Where are my cigarettes?" This man has a smoking habit, are you mad? Smoke, Are you busy? Smoke, Are you observing something or someone? He smoked later. (Professional smoker your lungs ask for help)

-His voice is thick, rough and, but it can vary from person to person, never too gentle, just lower his voice to speak

-He obeys his leader at any cost, he always wants to be the favorite, not that he can't, he wants everything to be perfect, don't take it the wrong way, he knows when he's REALLY perfect

-He has a medium beard, and short straight black hair that is always well combed and never messy. He takes very good care of himself, after all, he really appreciates himself!

-Brown eyes, that's all he doesn't take off his mask much, maybe only around Hoodie but nothing more

-There are moles on the face and body, it is common but they are not attractive, well hidden after all

Well-being and Unwellness

-Bom Tom is not the same person as Masky so his tastes vary between different things, like one likes music the other doesn't like it much, he has two personalities within him, he has difficulty knowing what he likes or not.

-Being alone, something he really enjoys as he tends to not be good socially (None of these guys are after all)

-He doesn't like to share, he could be talking to Hoodie and Toby bothers him and he will get stressed or leave or probably have a fight

-Women, he doesn't know how to act well, he's never liked anyone, but if it happens it won't be long before a disappearance occurs, he knows how to make plans that won't fail for anything.

-Fairly though, he hates losing in basic things like board games

Masky: "You're stealing, aren't you?"

Toby: "No, to be honest I don't even know how to play this"

Work:

-He took the missions extremely seriously so you don't want to get in the way or else something will get ugly between you and Masky

-He doesn't always have a straight face, he knows how to smile, he just doesn't do it a lot

-He likes animals, but he wouldn't have a pet because he doesn't have time to take care of it, the pet would end up dead or something like that

-Good at disguises, if he needs to become a teacher he will do it and always do it perfectly so that the mission is completed without any hesitatio

-"Damn, what did they do to my car!"-he is jealous of anything that is his, including people, cars, objects or even pens

Well guys, that's it, sorry for any serious mistakes, I'm dying of sleep, I don't know if it's written correctly! :)

[stupidsexpotflanders]

Dr. Chase,the physician from The Land Down Under

In the Season 8 episode "Dead and Buried",Chase appeared in a TV show playing a stereotypically Australian doctor on some skit(there was no Watsonian explanation given for this,I love how bonkers House MD can be). Despite the embarassment when House and Taub found the video,Chase's "first and big role" was massively beneficial to him.

It started on early clinic duty,due to a mistake. Chase was approached by some random teenager who saw him online. She was wondering why the actor was dressed like a doctor in a hospital waiting room;

In response,Chase claimed to be an aspiring actor wanting to make it in show business. He donned a fake but convincing American accent and a beautiful smile. The girl,now smitten by the not-so-fake doctor,asked to take a selfie with him;

The other professional at the scene were fuming and confused at the same time. Chase was hidden in plain sight,there was no way to convince the other patients the guy was an actual doctor;

The way out of clinic duty was discovered,and Chase was over the moon. He looked up the girl's social media,lo and behold,she not only posted the pic with him but also said she wanted to see more of him;

Chase created social media profiles for his character,totally separated from his professional/personal ones(that were very low-key and private,especially after the nude pic fiasco. As for professional fame,Chase didn't need more than he had - Princeton-Plainsboro was cozy and high-stakes enough). The character was named Robert Chase as well. Between the fact that his name was already common and the fact that "Doc from Down Under" had way more fame than "Head of Diagnostics/House's Successor",it would make him being hard to found out with search mechanisms(this particular tactic made Robert love the fact that the surname Červený was far too complicated for the immigration officers that recieved his father in Australia. Robert Chase vs Robert Červený says it all). To top it all,the real "Dr. Robert Chase" might look like an elaborate goof;

Now,onto how Dr. Chase would be able to keep the facade and his medical career. His main method of testing the candidates to Diagnostics Fellows is to have them pretend to be R. Chase - regardless of gender,race or any characteristics. Of course,he's keeping tabs on both the new doctors and patients - same doctors see the same patients. It has a double usefulness - the candidates have to be skilled with deceit and quick on their feet while able to be coordinated by Chase himself;

When it comes to the cases themselves,Chase goes see the patients sometimes,but always in a disguise(glasses,a thick beard,make up to look 10 years older and a British accent(canon have him an American accent for no reason,so let me make Chase a fake Brit!);

Oftentimes,Chase is seen making videos of the Doctor. After a while,his videos had extremely simplified explanations of complicated diseases. The simplifications were done by someone who deeply understood the pathologies,anyone with medical knowledge would see it. The cherry of the cake was when American Accent Chase played the dumb person who needed said explanations(but still struggled to understand them). His underlings found it annoying but overlooked it,because Chase was generally competent and nice overall;

Last but not least - Chase got away with all that BS because competence levels and he was fucking his boss. Foreman is just as batshit,he's classy about it tho.

Just gimme Chase being just as chaotic as House,but in different ways,please!

[bumble66]

The similarities between closeted right-wingers and Chris Evans

Alternative title: "Dear Mr. future president Evans,"

Recently, I saw how Chris Evans met Joe Biden. For people who don't know. Chris Evans has a political online platform called ASP. This was not the first time he met a famous politican but meeting the president of the United States is something else. It should be clear by now why he does that... Anyway, it reminded me of the gossip I found recently:

As I mentioned in my last big blog post, about Chris' potential boyfriends, I am not really a fan of marvel and didn't know much about him during his time as Captain America. I only got interested after he started the cringeworthy PR relationship in November 2022. In 2018, I was made aware of how many closeted celebrities exist and Mr. Evans being so clumsy with his Portugal bride gave me the perfect opportunity to uncover this Hollywood facade.

As you can see, I have also been asked by a lot of people why I think Chris could be closeted (either gay, bi or a straight guy who doesn't want to commit and just sleeps around). I will answer these questions in relation to today's topics: I. The Portugal PR relationship is mostly done for his future political career (or that was the plan before the backlash) II. The behavior of closeted right-wingers resembles Chris Evans' III. Portugal Bride was not the first PR relationship rumor but why does a rich, attractive and alleged womanizer like Chris need PR relationships all the time? As I always say. Everything on my tumblr is alleged. I merely summarize what people speculate online and give my own opinion on that.

Tim Scott, a failed GOP 2024 candidate and alleged closeted gay man, announced on X that he got engaged to a woman:

As you can see from the screenshot, no one's buying it. It is rumored Tim Scott is doing this because he will be chosen as Trump's vice president. People online claim that Tim Scott being gay has been talked about way before the first "Why doesn't have Tim Scott have a girlfriend" articles:

I heard about Tim Scott being gay and being pressured to have a PR girlfriend around the same time Chris pretended to have gotten married in September and that made me think... I can't find the comment anymore but I remember someone of Chris' fans on the LSA forum suggesting that Chris' "A starting point" political platform isn't just for shits and giggles. Apparently, he wants to go into politics after his acting career. No idea how successful he will be now with that after his latest movie flops and the Portugal relationship having led to lost followers on his social media accounts because it made him appear as a "dollar store Leonardo DiCaprio" but in general..., this idea isn't too far off. Remember the Terminator aka Arnold Schwarzenegger? An action hero became the Governor of California and with Chris Evan's fake Captain America image, pretending online and in interviews to be like Steve Rogers, he could sway a lot of people too!

Remember. The alleged marriage wasn't the first PR relationship of Chris Evans. At least according to his fandom, when they explained how he and Portugal Bride met, he was involved in several other PR relationships before:

According to this person, the relationships with Christina Ricci and Minka Kelly from long ago, were planned by a PR team too and it adds up with a blog post I found years ago about how Minka is allegedly a beard for my back then favorite actor Jake Gyllenhaal. Bearding appears to be a career of its own in Hollywood: https://gaywriter.wordpress.com/2012/06/19/blind-item-jake-gyllenhaal-is-looking-for-a-new-female-beard-to-present-illusion-of-heterosexuality-to-fans/

So his PR team not only allegedly had several options next to the Portugal Bride (like Monica Barbaro) but they were apparently also responsible for his faked relationship with Lily James? It is rumored that Lily wanted more from this PR arrangement from back in 2020. Possibly real love? The social media site Icons+ reports that "Lily James left Chris Evans to be a millionaire's "other woman"". She basically publicly "cheated" on Chris and many gossip sites reported on it. Did Lily do that as revenge because Chris solely wanted PR and rejected her? Kinda like "if you don't give me real love, I ain't giving you positive PR either". It makes me wonder though. Why would a heterosexual man privately reject a pretty woman like Lily James after wanting to be seen with her in paparazzi photographs after all? Odd.

Yes, Chris' alleged personal Paparazzo with the name Jesal basically admitted that he was called to do the pictures with Lily back in 2020 (Nowadays, he seems to be busy with the Portugal PR relationship as you can see from the screenshot, where he was called for a christmas party Portugal Bride and Chris attended). This reminds me of of another failed 2024 GOP candidate who is rumored to be closeted. There is a medium article regarding Ron DeSantis called "Is the GOP gossiping that Ron DeSantis is gay?", how most if not all of the GOP party know about his alleged homosexualty:

As you can see, not just his own party but the general public thinks so too. In fact, they speak about Ron DeSantis' being closeted the same way some people speak about Chris being allegedly closeted:

The replies to this dailymail article about Chris' and Portugal Bride's relationship-reveal, demonstrate that people think that both Chris and Ron overplay the alpha male macho tough guy image, solely to cover their true sexual orientation.

But PR relationships can also have another function. As I pointed out on my blog before: There are many heterosexual men I know who just wanted to sleep around but because of societal pressure, they pretend to be monogamous. The latest political example of that seems to be Gavin Newsom who has been in the news for being an alleged serial cheater. He was already caught cheating back in 2007. On X I found this summary of his latest shenanigans: (TRIGGER WARNING: mention of SA)

Why do I mention Ron DeSantis and Gavin Newsom in relation to Chris Evans? Because they all have one thing in common. A fake stable married man image. Look at the header picture of DeSantis and Newsom on X. Newsom holding his son in his harm. A few weeks ago, DeSantis had a header picture of holding his children's hands and the latest picture, you can see right now, also shows his wife and kids again to portray the family man image while allegedly being someone completely different (a closet case = Ron, a cheater= Gavin). Sorry not sorry but when I saw those header images combined with the rumors I knew about those two guys, I immediately though that Chris is not so different. He also calls the paparazzi, so he can be portrayed for the public as a guy who has a stable relationship and doesn't randomly sleep around in all kids of places.

As someone pointed out on the Lipstick Alley thread called "Chris Evans Relationship Theories 5", he used to go to parties similar to the ones seen in the movie "Eyes Wide Shut" but these rumors were allegedly scrapped by his team when he became Captain America. Why did they worry so much about this specific gossip? Was it true after all? Apparently this goes back as far as 2006:

I have no problems with that because I am pro sexual liberation. I actually point this out so we can normalize this and let people be who they really are, so that they don't have to do these fake relationships anymore.

I mean, remember the screenshot from my "Chris Evans possible boyfriends" post? The user ShellyT20... how she described that a lot of PR relationships in Hollywood exist because the male actors either sleep with each other, have p-word scandals and/or are serial cheaters "but post fake romance stuff on IG and other public platforms. It gives a fake sense of normalcy and stability and shuts fans up for the most part as well as acting as a distraction." When I read this I got reminded of the public "beyond the blinds podcast" episode you can listen to on spotify. The one about the Hemsworth brothers. There it was alleged that Chris Hemsworth is constantly cheating. I wasn't surprised. He isn't my type but I can't deny that he is what most consider super attractive + tall + rich = in no way is this guy monogamous as a famous hollywood actor (LMAO the audactiy to even thinkt hat)... Sadly, when I confront some people with that... for instance Evans fans on LSA or X, most roll their eyes and don't believe that.... They were like: "How can a guy like C. Hemsworth, who posts social media posts about loving being a father and being married for over a decade possibly be such a bad guy"... ... ... ... ... Well and this the reason why Hollywood still fools you with PR relationships because most of you are gullible. You want to see men married with children and as long as the women are age appropriate, you eat it up. And all this goes even beyond these Hollywood celebrities and politicians the general public is aware of. Apparently, even e-celebs are in PR relationships/fake image relationships these days. The youtuber TheQuartering, who said he was partying with right-wing e-celebs said this about them last year: (TRIGGER WARNING: transphobic slur)

Just like how Chris Evan's fans are disappointed that he wasn't the internet boyfriend after all (his fake image for the 2010s) and started to date random young women like Leonardo DiCaprio and Bradley Cooper, TheQuartering was disappointed too with his right-wing colleagues, who pretended to be committed husbands with children while actually being a closeted pride parade. The right-wing commentarors TheQuartering talks about are: Elijah Schaffer, Jack Posobiec and Mike Cernovich. When I found that out I was shocked. I was like "So even these e-celebs are basically "their own Hollywood club" and need PR relationships to function publicly". It really shows how deep gender roles are still ingrained in our society. That even internet-famous people have to have a family man image and portray themselves in a certain way to become "e-celeb-A-list". And if they don't, they will be denied that status.

I know it hurts that your favorite A-list stars are also wife cheaters and that their activism is most likely fake only so that they can continue participating in Hollywood orgies (Which apparently already happen on the e-celeb level). But at one point it had to come out and isn't it better to accept reality than to participate in and support these fake scenarios only to feel better about the world? Cause it is not just TheQuartering who exposed the fake image of the right-wing online community. Blaire White, a right-winger herself, pointed out the same. As people say, where there is smoke, there is fire:

In this video at 55:35 regarding Blaze Media, Blaire White spills tea about closeted e-celebs. It also includes orgies and drugs... like with our favorite super hero (allegedly).

(Blaire is not the only one who knows about the orgy parties)

Lastly, one of the most famous right-wing e-celebs is Steven Crowder. On his channel he had a video where he once admitted that he had a bisexual phase... a phase..

And according to his own logic that means:

He also went so far and basically created beard twins. I remember clearly the video where he announced the pregnancy of his wife. He held up a picture into the camera from an ultrasound. It was like "See, I am hetero after all. Are you happy now?". That's at least my opinion on how the video looked like and it adds up with what peole usually say about him:

Honestly, if someone had told me that this text is about Chris Evans, I'd have believed it and so now we have come full circle. While I only know about Chris Evan's since the pandemic (As I said, I don't watch super hero movies), I am still disappointed. In some interviews, he appeared so adorable, awkward and different from other men in Hollywood (like when he was interviewed about his "Lightyear movie announcement" tweet on Jimmy Kimmel). But in the end he is no better than the closeted republicans. Portraying a conservative image of marriage while behind closed doors it is worse than a sitcom trying to convince you that canned laughter makes everything funnier.

(picture: Is this the awkwardness people talk about? Adorable...)

Yes, there have always been rumors that his real personality is being "weird and awkward" and that he is not just acting in movies but also in most interviews. It goes so far that someone claimed he had been rejected on a date and that's why some people assume it is actually him who initiated the Portugal PR relationship and basically paid for it because he can't get someone himself through normal means. Are some people punished with their good looks?

IMO just like with the married right-wing e-celebs who do orgies all the time, it is also a bad idea of Chris wanting to become a father (at least according to his "sexiest man alive" PR narrative from 2022 which seems to be in the trash can now too).

But let's assume his PR team has that still on their minds: Not only would it be solely for his image (which would make this situation PR either way, even if the marriage were real) but according to all his alleged wild ways, he is also unfit to parent, it would be a disaster actually. Controversial commentator Pearl Davis described it very well. How some people just shouldn't be parents:

I agree with Vale. She would just be in it for the image of being a married woman and in our case... a married, monogamous, non-cheating family man. A user on LSA said that when you switch out "fake nails" with "fake teeth" in Pearl Davis' message, you will have the pefect description of Chris Evans:

(Chris Evans being interviewed at the Lightyear premiere resembling Barry Manilow with too much botox) Sorry but after seeing this picture, I have to agree with her. I love his clothing style but a bi-peacock who is more interested in vanity and fake status will never be a good role model for children. As the saying goes: "You can't have it both ways"

I know this is all a tough pill to swallow but c'mon people. This is the year 2024 and at one point this fakeness just needs to stop. Celebrities, politicians and even social meda e-celebs... you are being fooled. And according to Hollywood insider and daughter of famous TV personality John Walsh, a lot of times, one partner of the arrangement is suffering. Is this really what you support? I don't and that's why I uncover all these PR relationships of the entertainment world because as a true progressive, I don't think that people should be judged based on outdated gender expectations like marriage and monogamy.

The closet kills... your real personality. I mean honestly, what do you gain from being remembered after your death as someone you never were? As Joan Rivers jokes at 0:43 in a short clip from 1966. This so called bearding has been going on forever. I don't think we need a 100th anniversary of this shameful practice. So please help me to expose this so that in the future, celebrities can become famous for truly being themselves.

[pineapplerightsideupcake]

I’ve been struggling how to word this, and I’m sure it sounds terrible, but I don’t have much sympathy for de trans ppl. I’m not saying they deserve it or that I’m happy some suffered, especially if they’re young but it’s really difficult to hold sympathy and concern when most trans ppl are very obnoxious and delusional. Let me explain: I have a lot of trans friends that it’s very difficult to get them to listen and they’re very stuck in their mindset. I know a guy who looks like a man, calls himself nonbinary and has said he uses the woman bathroom. He takes estrogen and use to have a big beard. I asked him why he wasn’t shaving before and he said his beard doesn’t cause him dysphoria….it seems like a lot of trans ppl are very narcissistic and don’t listen anyway. It’s like when you’re trying to help someone and they keep rejecting you and falling deeper. I am worried one of my friends will definitely de transition in the future, and by then well, it’s gonna be too late, the testosterone has done its damage and she will suffer. I read the de trans subreddit, and I do feel sorry for some and most talk about isolating themselves from family and friends. sorry this is getting long. I feel bad about it, and I’m trying to hard to emphasize but many trans ppl make it difficult. It feels like a massive “I told you so” situation. Please give me advice on how to develop a kinder understanding so I can stop feeling guilty…..

So I wanted to take my time to answer this one because I think this taps into an especially heinous thing the modern left + social media has done to people and it’s the belief that a good person has endless empathy for everyone always and has special empathy for marginalized people.

But here’s the truth. You literally aren’t built for it. At the most basic psychological level you are not designed to have deep empathy for strangers. Your brain has a hierarchy of how much you care about others and a healthy mind prioritizes the people closest to you. More importantly, love and empathy are finite. You actually do have a limit on how many people you can truly care about. That’s not my opinion it’s proven science. We have a literal number (I think it’s about 80).

So it’s a beautiful thing when we care about people outside of our circle. It’s even more beautiful when we care about people far away that aren’t like us. But it’s beautiful precisely because it isn’t natural. It’s a conscious effort to care enough about earthquake victims on the other side of the planet to donate and raise awareness.

My point being that it’s okay that you don’t overflow with love for a group that is hostile towards you AND is full of narcissistic trenders. You can have sympathy for the people that regret surgery without absolving them. And maybe I intuitively understood this because I had to love so many addicts growing up. But empathy doesn’t mean never holding people accountable. It breaks my heart that my aunt has emphysema but she brought that fate on herself, one cigarette at a time. You can have sympathy for people with genuine dysphoria and still think they’re deluded. You can have sympathy for people that were brainwashed as kids and still expect them to examine their values. And you can think others are just self absorbed assholes. You can condemn the patriarchy for convincing so many young that they are worthless that they are choosing the Trans man path and still hold them accountable for throwing around homophobic slurs. You can have sympathy for trans women that are fighting sepsis from bottom surgery and still regard most of them as sex pests.

Empathy is finite. It is not on or off. It is not something we owe to a person because they are struggling.

Treat the people around you with kindness and respect. Pour your energy into a few meaningful things instead of dozens of empty ‘causes’. Torturing yourself over if you feel nice enough on the inside is so…Catholic. It’s female socialization.

Breathe. You’re a good person.

[dresmoove]

LA Task - About Andre.

What is your full name?

— Andre Terrell Davis Jr.

Where and when were you born?

— Atlanta, Ga

Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.)

— Andre never knew his mom, and his father Andre Davis Sr. is a truck driver that had no intentions of being an active father. He was raised by his grandparents, Dion and Loretta Davis who own a soul food restaurant in Atlanta. Their nurturing personalities saved his life.

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?

— He has 2 siblings but he doesn't know them.

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.

— Andre lives in Boston, Ma part time and Los Angeles, Ca part time by himself.

What is your occupation?

— He is the starting small forward for the Boston Celtics.

Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks.

— Andre is African-American with no tattoos and stands at 6 foot 6 inches tall and weighing about 220 pounds. His hair is always clean cut and he keep his beard long but shaped. He dresses how he feels and can be found breaking fashion norms because he likes to experiment and wear what he thinks looks good.

To which social class do you belong?

— Upper class.

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?

— No.

Are you right- or left-handed?

— Right handed

What does your voice sound like?

— Andre's voice is deep, gruff, and smooth.

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?

— Random basketball words. Huh, shut up nigga, energy.

What do you have in your pockets?

— His phone and wallet.

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

— No.

PART 2: GROWING UP

How would you describe your childhood in general?

— Andre's childhood was rough for a long time with neither parents wanting him. He was bounced around family members, almost joined a gang in middle school but his grandparents stepped in and gave him a second chance. They were strict but it was what he needed.

What is your earliest memory?

— Getting a bike for his 6th birthday.

How much schooling have you had?

— Andre left college early to pursue his NBA career but he has since gone back an finished up and now holds a bachelor's degree in sociology with a concentration in family, gender and society.

Did you enjoy school?

— Yes he did.

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?

— He learned how to play basketball from playing older guys in the park and watching tv.

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.

— He didn't have anyone to look up to but he had a lot of people he knew he didn't want to be like. Andre wanted his own path and to be his own man.

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?

— He didn't talk a lot and stayed to himself but he felt safe with his grandparents and respected them.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

— He wanted to be an astronaut.

As a child, what were your favorite activities?

— He liked to play sports and video games.

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?

— Andre wasn't popular until high school because that was the longest he had stayed at once school. Everybody he was around he didn't consider friends because he wasn't used to having people support him and he never spoke to any of them once he went to college. The only person he was friends with was his high school sweetheart and she was his rock.

When and with whom was your first kiss?

— He had his first kiss in 5th grad with a girl who used to bully him.

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?

— He's not a virgin, he lost his virginity at 16 to his girlfriend at the time.

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

— The day he signed a contract to play in the NBA.

Who has had the most influence on you?

— His grandparents were his only good influence and by far the greatest.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

— Andre considers making the NBA the greatest thing he's ever done.

What is your greatest regret?

— His biggest regret is getting caught up with gangs when he was young.

What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

— He beat up a kid for no reason just to prove he could hang.

Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

— He's been arrested for fighting and for possession.

When was the time you were the most frightened?

— He was scared the last time he got arrested because he thought that would be the one that stuck.

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?

— He was embarrassed when he got caught stealing as a kid.

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?

— He wouldn't change anything because it got him to where he is.

What is your best memory?

— His best memory was making his first basket in the NBA.

What is your worst memory?

— His worst memory was not having anyone to celebrate mother's and father's day with.

[moonshinemusings]

This blog *-* Can I have a headcanon for Price ? The ones for Soap and Alejandro are ghgffhh <3

Hello there! I'm really glad you like my blog, thank you! Here are some headcanons about our favourite Captain :)

---

General John Price headcanons (Pt.1)

Warnings: slight mentions of PTSD, depression (?), smoking, canon typical violence

A/N: This turns pretty grim by the end, but I hope you still like it!

• This man watches football whenever he can and he's been at matches quite a lot in his life. He took Gaz with him a few times, even Laswell once

• Sometimes he snores like a dad and Gaz needed several days to get used to the sound in order to sleep when they started working together

• Tells horrible dad jokes all the time and he knows most of the guys hate them, but won't stop

• Coughs like his lungs will collapse but somehow he's healthy

• His knee always crunches like it's about to break

• He's mostly unperturbed by all the carnage and violence by now, but he saw a baby being born once and almost fainted and threw up

• In full honesty he doesn't mind cheaper cigars, but he likes to fuck with everyone by acting like he hates them

• The smell of the smoke on his breath/clothes is really noteable but he doesn't care

• Has a high alcohol tolerance. The only way you will know if he's getting tipsy is by noticing the subtle change in his accent to deeper and more slurred words. If somehow he's really gone, then you will know by the little red tints on his cheeks (which are mostly hidden by his facial hair, but you can see it up close)

• Not an early bird. He tends to be grumpy in the mornings, but if you give him coffee it's gonna be fine

• Which reminds me: his preferred drink will always be a good whiskey, but he usually downs anything he has to (coffee, tea, those horrible protein shakes, vitamin mixes and so on)

• Occasionally reads, mostly classics or novels

• Prefers salty food over sweet

• The secret of the facial hair? Patience and genuine care about his appearance. He shaves for like an hour every time because he doesn't want to ruin his mustache/beard (Alex is the same damn way I swear)

• He likes jazz music and 80's rock. Sometimes he blasts those horrendous English raps too because he knows the others hate it (sorry if I insulted anyone lol)

• Thinks pineapple on pizza is hideous (Soap loves it lol)

• He's had so many broken bones in his life, he has no idea if there is any in his body that he didn't destroy at least once yet

• He doesn't really like action/military based movies because of the unnecessary violence in them. They remind him of things he doesn't want to remember too much. He'd rather watch shitty romantic movies or even comedies, but he won't be caught dead while laughing at them. He also tends to laugh while watching horror movies, but the heavy gore can remind him of bad memories

• He doesn't care about social media or any of that stuff really. Sometimes Gaz shows him stuff like cat videos because he loves them. Everything he knows he got it from Kyle tbh

• He has no fashion sense whatsoever. Outside of work he either looks like a dad on vacation, or still wears too much stuff similar to his gear that he seems to be going back to work in 10 minutes

• He likes fuzzy socks btw

• Adores big dogs, he can just wrestle with them and when they lay on him it makes him feel centered and comfortable thanks to their weight

• Unreasonably good at poker and he has the highest record with like 2 wins behind Laswell (who he just can't beat)

• He can handcraft a bunch of stuff if you give him a piece of wood and a knife. He made little figures for Gaz and the guy kept them as lucky charms over the years

• He doesn't fuss around too much about food and he's not picky. Whatever he gets, he gets, and that's fine by him (he used to live off worst stuff anyways). He loves meat though, a nice steak always puts him in a good mood. Also probably makes mean bbq

• Drinks beverages like orange juice or even milk straight out of the carton

• He's a man who always keeps his promises. Not one to lie or feed half truths, he always straight up says everything he has to

• Has a collection of weird/dumb looking beanies he has received over the years from his team

• He met Kate's wife once and she made him feel like family in the best way possible. He was glad his best friend had such a great person in their life that they could go home to

• Very protective of his men. He has lost too many friends and doesn't want to lose anyone else

• His biggest fear is ending up alone, watching everyone he loves die

• Every man he has lost weights heavy on his shoulders. He remembers their faces, but not all their names which makes him feel even more guilty

• Tends to bottle up his emotions and act like everything is fine. Sometimes he breaks down seemingly out of nowhere, but only when he's alone

• Kate is his closest friend and when it gets really bad, she's the one he seeks out

• He has occasional nightmares just like everyone else, but feels like he's dealing well with them (mostly he does)

• He has a watch he got from Soap as a birthday gift once. He only wears it outside of work because it's too important for him to get it damaged in any way

• He rarely has free time or time away from work, but he gets the most out of it. He has a few safe houses, but prefers to spend his time in one in particular because it has all his personal belongings he has left

• At first he thought the "you're everyone's father" was a joke, but then he realized how genuinely they meant that and he kind of broke down. He didn't think he deserved that amount of deep affection and what came with a title such as that, but it made him feel unexplainably happy at the same time

• He's not sure if he ever wants a family. He knows the military is his life and would never leave it behind, unless he has to retire because he can't keep up anymore (even then, only if they force him). The idea of having someone who loves him waiting at home brings warmth to his chest, but he's not sure if he deserves it. He doesn't want to taint anyone with his hands that hold so much blood on them

[alarrytale]

I follow a closeted artist and although he has talked about his attraction to men many times and even talked about hooking up with men, he hasn't made an official CO statement so I guess you would call it a glass closet? But he still has beards so I'm not sure. Some people think he is bi but idk. I've only seen him engage in gay culture and he is always expressing attraction to men. He's not convincing with women either and only has relationships when promoting music so I think he's probably gay. But my point I'm getting at is that he has lots of young women in his fandom who are always projecting heterosexual fantasies on him. Even though he only talks about men they are always discussing which female celebrities they think he has slept with and they ship him only with women. They're obsessed with his 'girlfriends' who only show up when he's promoting something, and because they get barely any girlfriend content it makes them think that he's so private that he could be sleeping with every female celebrity and they wouldn't know about it. So they create stories between him and women that they like and they spread them and others believe them. It used to really annoy me but now I just roll my eyes because this is typical teenage girl behavior. They live in a world of their own and love to fantasize even though the truth is pointing in a different direction. Unless a guy comes out as gay then they'll always project on him. Even if it's blatantly obvious that he is gay. They'll project on to him as long as they can. If he CO then they'll project in their head because they'd get backlash if they were still shipping him with women on social media. They just live in their own world.

Hi, anon!

If he's talked about hooking up with men, but never stated his sexuality, then yes that's a good example of a glass closet. If he is with women too he might be bi/pan, or he might not state his sexuality for the fact that he's gay, but still wanting to attract a female het audience and appear bi/pan. He might also be in a seeding phase for coming out as gay, or he's testing his audience's reaction to him admitting to being with men to figure out if they could handle him coming out without a loss of fans.

Heterosexual females will continue to project their fantasies until he comes out, and as you say probably still continue after he comes out. There is nothing wrong with that, and it's actually good that they continue to do it, because that means they'll continue to be a fan after he comes out, and that makes it easier for him to come out.

[vintagegeekculture]

The 90s Hercules TV Movies

If you are only familiar with the comedic and lighthearted Hercules TV series, the tone of the seldom shown Hercules TV movies that aired on the Universal Action Pack, who’s success led to the series, should be a surprise. For those who are unaware, Universal had a block of programming that they used to show TV movies, including TekWar, Vanishing Son I-IV (essentially a remake of Fu Sheng’s Chinatown Kid, about a Chinese immigrant martial artist who’s brother becomes a gangster in San Francisco), and a remake of Smokey and the Bandit. Of these TV movies, the only ones that were really a hit were the Hercules, and it’s easy to see why.

Taking themselves as seriously as a Steve Reeves film from the 60s, the pre-series Action Pack Hercules TV movies had an interesting mission statement. As Hercules was something of an old fashioned type of hero even in the 90s, the first TV movie had to explain that this particular itineration of Hercules was a sensitive man who understands women. In the TV movie, Hercules in the Maze of the Minotaur, he’s even a single dad, trying to raise his kids. In other words, they wanted to create a hero who had strength and toughness, but also, had a social conscience, and ended episodes with speeches about how racism was bad. They wanted to create a sort of workable composite hero for the 90s, a no beard, long haired hippie Hercules who looked like he was 4/20 friendly. Kevin Sorbo is the only Hercules I can imagine blazing it with a satyr and centaur.

The culture is cyclical, and periods of progressive sentiment yield to reactionary eras of angry retrenchment. I’ve always thought that the 90s were actually two decades in one. The early part of the decade was full of proactive, environmental, moralistic earnestness, like Ted Turner’s Captain Planet and the Planeteers and corny hip hop acts that wore daishikis, and the later years of the decade were reactionary in spirit, with angry tatted up nu metal acts and really weird pop stars who liked to say they were virgins all the time and wear purity rings.

Hercules and the Amazon Women was very much in the spirit of the earlier part of the decade. For instance, the Amazon Women are hostile to men because they think men are monstrous and beat their wives, and Hercules argues that isn’t true – some are cool enlightened males, like him, who can learn to treat women right, and the genders can learn to live together based on mutual respect. The Amazon Women doubt this and use a magic candle to make Hercules flash back to his own life and remember all the times he was taught how to interact with women in his life, in occasionally very degrading ways (in other words, we get Hercules’s origin, so it’s exposition that doesn’t feel like exposition – very clever). Confronted with this, Hercules comes out of it saying that he was wrong, that he can do better and believes everyone else can, too. As a “mission statement” for a new take on Hercules as a new kind of enlightened guy for the 90s who has both strength and compassion in equal measure, it works pretty effectively. 

A lot of works try to be “ah, but this is not your father’s Hercules!” But I swear, this one really succeeded, and I think the reason these TV movies created an empire that dominated the decade was precisely because it was a completely different take that asked how it could do things differently. For instance, just like Kevin Sorbo’s Hercules is a longhair hippie and single dad who believes in peace and love who fights only when all else fails, Anthony Quinn as Zeus works exactly because he underplays it, plays Zeus as a regular guy, a normal schlub who might be a friend of your Dad at the pub, who doesn’t have a booming voice and comes off as normal…yet because this is Anthony Quinn here, he comes into the room… he’s in charge.

Another bit of casting that’s kind of impressive was Hippopolyta, Queen of the Amazons, played by Roma Downey. If you only know her from Touched by an Angel, her wearing a push up bra as a sexy evil queen villainess who knocks boots with Hercules is probably a hell of a shock. I truly believe that there is an alternate timeline where she becomes known for action roles as hot villainesses and would never play an angel in her life (quite the opposite), and maybe got the kind of career Lucy Lawless did. Yeah, she’s a Christian, which is why she did so well on that angel show she did, but that kind of thing isn’t disqualifying when it comes to action. After all, one of the most famous amazons of all, Lynda Carter (like many people of Mexican descent) is a devoted Catholic.

[grizzlyofthesea]

Some ROTTMNT Headcanons

These are just some ideas I've come up with for fun. I may update this post as I form headcanons for more characters. Or, since it's already so long, I'll make new ones for each set of characters.

If you have any you'd like to share, feel free to comment!

Raph

DOB: December 1st, 2003

Bisexual as all heck, with a slight preference for men

Cis guy; pronouns are he/him

Undiagnosed autism; flew under everyone's radar since he's high-empathy and masks pretty well

Lashes out when overstimulated; worst case scenario, can destroy a lot of stuff in a little time

Favorite sibling order: April, Mikey, Leo, Donnie

Very good at sewing

Has amassed a collection of over 50 teddy bears, some of which are vintage and/or rare

OBSESSED with professional wrestling

Surprisingly knowledgeable about classic horror movie monsters

Loves 80s fashion

Wears that x-shaped bandage on his plastron all the time to cover up a huge childhood scar

Has a habit of chewing on stuff when stressed

Doesn't have a social media account, but supports all of his siblings' endeavors

Leo

DOB: October 21st, 2004

Gay as all heck; Don Suave was his awakening

Cis guy; pronouns are he/him

Will fight anyone who tries to exclude his family from pride events

Undiagnosed ADHD; didn't really draw attention since it's inattentive-type

Tends to zone out during conversations, even ones that interest him

Favorite sibling order: Mikey, April, Raph, Donnie

Loves 90s fashion and pop culture

Jupiter Jim may be his favorite comic book hero, but he loves comics in general.

Also a huge anime geek, with his personal favorites being Sailor Moon, Sonic X, and JoJo's Bizzare Adventure

Quite famous on TikTok as sketch comedian/"cosplayer" N30n_L30n

Totally abuses his teleportation powers to go on free outings/vacations

The undisputed king of April Fool's Day

Really wants a pet bearded dragon

Donnie

DOB: December 25th, 2004

Splinter and Leo always do the whole "This is your birthday gift and your Christmas gift" thing to him. He hates it.

Aroace and/or fictoromantic asexual as all heck (goes back and forth between the labels)

Nonbinary as all heck; pronouns are he/him and they/them

Diagnosed with autism at around 3 years old

Super sensitive to texture and temperature

Favorite sibling order: April, Mikey, Raph, Leo

Has built a backup tech-bô in case another Krang situation happens

Did their own laser eye surgery when they were 11 so Leo would stop teasing them about looking nerdy

Thinks cryptocurrency and NFTs are stupid

April has dragged him into the insanity of the FNAF fandom, and now he won't stop talking about the crazy lore.

Runs a gaming/science experiment YouTube channel as Bootyyyshaker9000; doesn't have many viewers or subscribers, but loves to make videos anyway

Monster High is their guilty pleasure

Treats S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. and the P.S.D.D. (Personal Slumber Defensive Device) as his beloved sons

Mikey

DOB: March 16th, 2005

Polyromantic demisexual as all heck

Cis dude; pronouns are he/him

Diagnosed with combined-type ADHD at around 5 years old

Releases a lot of his energy through his art

Favorite sibling order: Leo, Donnie, April, Raph

Loves glow sticks, fairy lights, and other luminescent decorations

Runs a surprisingly popular art/baking Pinterest account as Flavorville; also considering extending to Tumblr

Obsessed with horoscopes, and kind of into some new-age spiritual stuff

Unironically loves the Twilight saga

Chose to decorate his plastron with stickers because they're easy to switch out if he ever wants a change of aesthetic

Dr. Delicate Touch is his response to being ignored/talked over as the "baby" of the family.

Did most of the graffiti in the lair

Owns Heelys, but can't figure them out for the life of him

April

DOB: May 11th, 2002

Basically Splinter's adopted daughter/the turtles' adopted sister despite both of her biological parents still being present in her life

Lesbian as all heck

Trans girl; pronouns are she/her

Still has a spiritual connection to Karai and some leftover powers from the Season 2 finale

Favorite sibling order: Donnie, Raph, Mikey, Leo

Admires Warren Stone for his confidence on camera and sharp fashion sense

Avid indie horror fan; especially applies to FNAF, DDLC, and Fran Bow

Loves extreme sports, especially whitewater kayaking

Regularly visits the Hidden City with Sunita

Won't touch most formalwear with a thirty nine-and-a-half-foot pole

Gets special treatment (i.e. actual high-quality meals) from Baron Draxum at school

Helps Todd with the puppies every weekend

Often uses the special hover bike battle shell that Donnie built for her to stand on his back and T-pose on the others

Splinter

DOB: April 24th, 1955

Pansexual as all heck

Neurotypical, but neurodiversity runs in his family

Got Donnie and Mikey to a doctor for official diagnoses through his superb disguise skills (see: average teenage boy Randall)

Still not entirely trusting of Baron Draxum, but begrudgingly accepts him as a second parental figure for the turtles

Favorite child order: April, Raph, Mikey, Donnie, Leo

Runs a moderately famous TikTok account as Randall; likes to troll Leo in his comments, but it's ultimately loving/playful banter.

ADORES Studio Ghibli films

Chose the turtles' bandana colors by spinning a wheel

Became shorter over the years as a side effect of the ooze/mutagen causing his DNA to more closely resemble that of a rat

Originally wanted to be an opera singer before he discovered his passion for acting

Taught Leo how to dab

Basically a father figure/cool uncle to Cassandra

Still keeps in touch with Piebald

[mywifeleftme]

69: Lavender Country // Lavender Country

Lavender Country Lavender Country 1973, Gay Community Social Services of Seattle Inc.

There’s an anecdote Patrick Haggerty tells in the little zine that comes with the 2014 Paradise of Bachelors reissue of Lavender Country that always makes me tear up. Haggerty was raised one of ten children on a tenant dairy farm in northern Washington in the 1950s. It was obvious to Haggerty’s father from a young age that his boy was gay and, perhaps surprisingly given the times, he was quietly accepting of it. By the time Haggerty was in high school, he enjoyed cross-dressing, and he decided to try out for the head cheerleader position at his school.

Dolled up for his tryout in glitter and “a big lipstick smile” the future singer, in a perfectly teenage moment, dodges his father (who’d come by the school to pick him up)—not because it occurred to Haggerty that his father would be embarrassed by him, but because he was embarrassed to be seen with a dad “with cow crap all over his jeans, his snaggle tooth, his four-day beard and his beat up old fedora hat.” After the tryout, they talked in his father’s car:

He said, ‘Listen to me. I don’t have time to change my clothes just to run up to the high school to go and pick you up. I’m a dairy farmer—these are the clothes that I wear. I’m proud of what I do. I don’t have to change my clothes; I don’t have a reason to change my clothes. Now, were you proud of yourself up on that stage with all that glitter and lipstick?’

I said, ‘Well, I think I’m gonna win.’

He said, ‘Yeah, I think you’re gonna win too, but that’s not what I asked you. I asked you if you were proud of yourself.’

I said, ‘Uh… er… well… um.’

He said, ‘Listen, when you leave this valley and go to the University of Washington Drama School, like you say you’re gonna do, who are you gonna run around with at night?’

And I said, ‘I don’t know.’

He said, ‘I think you do know. And it’s not gonna be that McLaughlin girl I’ve been trying to get you to date.’

At this point I am slinking to the bottom of my seat. I know full well exactly what he’s talking about—pretending like I don’t. My father says to me—my father is ill; he’s like a year and a half away from the grave, and he knows it, and so do I—and he says, ‘You know, I’m not gonna be here when you’re a full grown man.’

I said, ‘Yeah, Dad, I know that.’

He said, ‘Well, I’m gonna tell you something right now, and I want you to remember it.’

I said, ‘Okay, Dad, what?’

And he said, ‘Whoever you run around with at the University of Washington Drama School when I’m gone, don’t sneak. Because if you spend your life sneaking, it means you think you’re doing the wrong thing. And if you think you’re doing the wrong thing, you’ll ruin your immortal soul. So whoever you run around with, don’t sneak, and be proud of it. Do you hear me?’

And I said, ‘… Yes, Dad.’

Haggerty, who passed away in 2022 just one year shy of the 50th anniversary of his Lavender Country’s self-titled debut, grew up to be a skinny little guy, but one who didn’t sneak around anybody. Like a lot of lefty artists of the ‘60s and ‘70s, he believed sincerely that absurdity, surrealism, and satire were forces that could reveal the contradictions of systems of oppression, and thereby cause them to collapse. But he also believed shared appreciation for weirdo art was as important to the unity of a movement as a shared politics or philosophy. Lavender Country’s songs are intended to be sung at protests, a pink answer to oddball folkie anthems like Country Joe’s “I Feel Like I’m Fixin’ to Die Rag” and Phil Ochs’ “Love Me I’m a Liberal.” In 1973, a group of people singing a song like “Cryin’ These Cocksucking Tears” was a message to the singers and the straight world alike: there are more people who can relate to this out there than you ever thought. I don’t think that message would be lost at a protest in 2023 either.

Lavender Country was a feeling listeners could take home with their copy of the record, even if that home was a place where it didn’t seem like there were any gays or long-hairs for miles. It was originally pressed in an edition of 1000, and the copies were moved hand to hand and via ads in alternative weeklies and the like over the next few years. It was eventually rediscovered in the late ‘90s, and CMT has even highlighted its historical significance as “the first openly gay country record”—though I imagine its gleeful vulgarity would present a tougher pill for the network to swallow than its queerness.

Taken purely on its musical merits, I’d recommend Lavender Country to anyone with a fondness for folk or country. By his mid-20s Haggerty already had the reedy but relaxing voice of a sentient rocking chair, and he leads his homespun band through a collection of fetching songs, like sweetly horny opener “Come Out Singing” and high-lonesome gender protest duet “Straight White Patterns.” It’s “I Can’t Shake the Stranger Out of You” that rises above the rest, a should-be country standard reminiscent of The Flatlanders. Haggerty weaves a braid of cocksure boasts and compliments (“I can hit the sack like an aristocrat / If you’ll let me be your tricky box of Cracker Jack’s”; “You’re hotter than the popcorn dancing in the pan”), but it’s all raging against the closing of a door—the same old fiddle dance with a lover who won’t ever truly open up.

69/365

[sankta-starkova]

LETTERMAN

014; resolutions

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

summary: the one where ej and andy realise that there may be some romantic feelings between them that hadn't been there before, or had they? the new year test this revelation

wordcount: 1.3k

Andy opened the door to Ashlyns house, carrying her signature cherry pie with EJ behind her, still chuckling.

"Sorry we're late, I was volunteering at the soup kitchen with the water polo guys," EJ explained, putting the drinks down on the table.

"And I was stuck waiting to be picked up," Andy explained with a smile, hugging Ashlyn.

Ashlyn had always known that there was something brewing between those two and they finally had a chance.

"Pics or it didn't happen," Carlos said with a laugh before he walked out of the room.

"I'm actually taking a break from social media so..." he explained, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well I can promise he was there, someone knocked on my door, begging for a spare shirt since he spilt food all over it after he fell over at said soup kitchen," Andy explained.

Ashlyn laughed, "Wow, new year, new you," she said, about to walk through before she saw EJ still standing in the kitchen.

"You wanna go in?" Andy asked, not understanding why he wasn't moving.

"Sorry, just taking it all in," he said with a sigh, "Not to be like your stereotypical second semester senior but, starting to realise that every day is like the last time I'm doing stuff with you guys,'

It was something that was beginning to hit him, that this time next year he would be at Duke away from all of his friends.

"Oh, EJ, that's actually really sweet," Andy said, placing a hand on his shoulder as she looked up at him.

Somehow, he had gotten a growth spurt during the Christmas break and she seemed to have shrunk. But one thing that hadn't changed were her feeling which actually grew stronger.

"Its weird, you two literally look so young to me now," he said, bothering her.

Andy laughed, hitting him in the arm. He smiled down at her, over Christmas break, he had realised that he did really like her, like like her, and wanted to cherish their time together.

"Yeah, I'm growing a beard," he said when he noticed Ashlyn staring at him weird.

"Oh, I thought that was dirt on your face," she said and her and Andy laughed at it.

"I might grow it out, depends what musical we're doing. Jean Valjean isn't Jean Valjean without the facial hair," he explained, running a hand over his face.

"Well I must admit, you'll be raking in some ladies if you keep it like that," Andy said before her and Ashlyn walked into the party.

He wanted to tell her that she was the only girl he really wanted but he couldn't do that to her, not when he was leaving school soon.

"Wait, have you seriously not heard what musical we're doing?" Gina asked, Andy turning to look at them.

"No, was it announced?" He asked, a panicked look on his face.

"Nobody say anything!" Carlos yelled out from the back. Andy knew it had to be HSM 2 though.

They all sat in the lounge, EJ and Andy on the sofa and the latter leaning against him as they took in the festivities.

Anyone who didn't know them would probably think think were a couple, his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

Suddenly, Ricky and Nini walked in, the former singing Bet On It at the top of his lungs as he danced through the lounge.

"Okay, does anybody not know we're doing High School Musical Two?" Carlos asked, everyone shaking their heads.

"We are?" EJ questioned, cheering as he finally realised the show that they were doing.

Later that night, they had all written a resolution and put it in a hat as part of a game.

Kourtney started to pick some out, "Resolution One, anyones guess. I resolve to remember everybody fondly when I go to Duke, especially my best friend who I am taking with me in a suitcase," she read out.

Andy chuckled, looking up at EJ. She knew it was him, she knew that Duke was his dream and he was going to miss everyone.

"EJ! You got into Duke? And would rather take Andy than me?" Ashlyn asked in shock.

"I mean, have I technically gotten 'into' Duke? Did my father and out grandfather before him also go to Duke?" He rhetorically asked.

"Okay, resolution number two," Kourtney read out, "This doesn't say anything except the words, my cows,"

Seb looked at everyone confused, "You guys, I thought we were writing down what we were thankful for," he said.

Kourtney picked another one out, "I resolve to follow my dreams however far away they take me," she said with a solemn face.

Everyone assumed it was Gina because of her mum always moving around but she shook her head, denying it.

"Its me, actually," Nini said, Ricky looking up at her confused, "Back to the game Kourt,"

Kourtney pulled another one out as the awkwardness filled the room, "All I want is for out generation to save the planet, I would also like absolute clarity about my love life," she read out.

Everyone talked about what it would be but Ashlyn didn't confirm that it was her.

Suddenly the doorbell rang and Big Red walked in with pizzas which EJ took, placing them on the table.

They all stood in the middle of the room, Andy sitting at the piano as she played 'fabulous', EJ leaning against the piano and admiring her.

Seb started to sing along and Andy changed the song, Gina, Ashlyn and Andy starting to sing 'music in me'.

Ricky started to play the guitar, Andy stopping playing the piano as the couple took over the song.

EJ ignored them, staring at Andy as she smiled with Ashlyn who was now sitting next to her.

It was undeniable that he was completely enamoured with her, unable to take his eyes off of her.

As they stopped singing, they all got up as it was announced that it was only ten seconds to midnight.

EJ grabbed Andy, pulling her up as they all cheered. As they stood in the corner of the room it seemed almost like they were going to kiss.

"I have an announcement!" Miss Jenn yelled out, running their moment.

They would have kissed, and Andy would have been over the moon. EJ wanted to try to kiss her again, but the moment has passed and he didn't want to push her.

So they all turned to look at Miss Jenn who stood in the doorway, approaching them.

"Contrary to rumour, we are not doing High School Musxial Two, instead, we are doing an American classic. Beauty and the Beast," she explained.

Andy and EJ smiled at each other, trying to get past the awkwardness of the fact that they nearly just kissed.

That would have been Andys first kiss, if you ignore the fact that her and Big Red kissed when they were like twelve accidentally – don't ask how that's possible.

"We are entering the Alan Menken award for High School Musical Theater, and we are going to win," she explained, everyone cheering.

"That means beating North High Miss Jenn, they have a thousand gallon Little Mermaid aquarium," Carlos explained.

"So, who is ready to show the world that they deserve that scholarship to NYU?" She asked, "I mean, who is ready to go from amateurs to statewide award winners?"

At that, everyone cheered, agreeing with her. "What team?" Ricky yelled out.

"Wildcats!" Everyone yelled back, cheering on the fact that they were going to be doing this.

"Ricky, I'm moving to Denver," Nini suddenly blurted out after everyone suggested she would make the best Belle.

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@maggiecc