#undercover as married

[badassindistress]

Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland (queer romantic) post canon | Charles character study | 2/6 | posts biweekly

“Charles,” Edwin said expectantly, in his neat unwrinkled skirt, sensible heels and what Crystal deemed a “fun old lady necklace”.

“Yeah mate?”

“Give me your arm,” Edwin requested very pointedly.

Chapter 2: The Case of The Cow Creamer is up!

Written for @painlandweek

[tsuyoiqueen]

forever mourning the fact that we never got to see loki in their female form. i'm dying to know what kind of actress the producers would choose, a tom hiddleston duplicate? someone entirely different? the possibilities are endless. never forget what they've taken from us, my friends.

[acrowbyanyothername]

Can Benoit Blanc’s stress baking English boyfriend have been like an assassin who was hired to kill him or something. I think that would be fun.

[bruciemilf]

wait I have got to hear your thoughts on bruce being lottie!!

Rewatching Princess and The Frog has got me in a chokehold! But basically, the AU as of now;

It's a well established, well know, well respected fact from the White House to the Bayou; If you ain't Wayne rich, you ain't rich at all.

But you won't catch Thomas Wayne bragging and boosting and yapping about hot cars, or big mansions, or pearly white yachts.

Thomas' pride and joy is one tiny, fawn eyed, overly energetic boy that made Gotham collectively swoon.

"And I want a princess when I grows up!" Bruce is just prancing around in his pink prince costume, adjusting a paper crown that Alfred made, " Or a prince! Can you get me a prince, papa?"

"You know the deal, Bruce; You wish it, daddy grands it; Ain't that right, Martha?"

Martha Kent chuckles in that warm, knowing way of hers. Her friend is infamous for the way he spoils his boy. But the Waynes are good people. And not just because they keep her farm afloat.

"Yeah, you're good on that front. But you know, sweetheart; It doesn't matter if you marry a prince or princess. As long as they make you smile, that's all that matters."

Lois, just a bit older than Bruce, makes a disgusted noise, " I don't want no prince or princess. I just want Princess money."

Bruce squeals, " But a PRINCE. I'd love to marry a Prince. We'd have a big big wedding and the sweetest cake in the world, and everyone would have fun, -- Clark! You gonna be at my wedding, right?"

Clark, dressed up in his blue overalls and paper sword, to fit the knight Bruce always calls him, nods, with a smile that doesn't match his words, " Course I will, Bruce. If you'll have me."

Now. Bruce is so very good at forging fantasies. But when a princess from a far away island rumoured to be populated entirely by women comes into town, it doesn't look like make believe at all.

"Women only? Lucky."

Lois doesn't have the time for dreams; She's a bonafide, concise, straight to the point realist. Taking truth by the throat and brings it to light.

And often enough, truth isn't pretty. And ugly truth, as Parry said, right before booting her right out of her job, doesn't sell.

Luckily, Clark's folks were nice enough to give her a delivery job cause Clark can't drive worth a damn. Still. If she's gonna watch him contain another dreamy sigh for Bruce, she'll blow chunks.

"Did you see her in them papers?! That's the prettiest woman I ever did see!"

Mr. Wayne growls behind his newspaper (that Lois could've written better than fucking JIMMY) and Bruce doubles down, " Um. After mama."

Mr Thomas smiles. "Hm. Guess you're finally getting that princess, huh, Brucie?"

Even in adulthood, Bruce squeals like a strangled kitten, " Where's Clark? Can't have the perfect wedding without the perfect best man!" Lois bites her lip and stacks up the peaches in Mrs. Wayne's Cafe.

After all these years, she just refuses to let that old place go. Lois has to respect that. Martha gives her a sympathetic look, warms her up with a mother's love. " How's work, Lo?"

"It's work, Mrs. Wayne. Thank you for that big order for the masquerade ball. At this point, you're the only ones keeping that farm alive..."

"Give those apples some credit," she winks, but squeezes Lois' hand, " If you ever need anything..."

"Thank you. But I don't take handouts."

"Pride won't buy you food, honey. But I guess I gotta wait for you to open your own newspaper. Then I'll make you rich. You'll see."

Bruce is just hugging and squeezing on Clark's arm, ranting a mile a minute about his wedding colors, his cake flavor, the honeymoon, all while nuzzling Clark's toned arm.

And Clark does what he does best; Hide behind a smile.

Alfred sighs, " If he wasn't mine, I'd whack that boy's head with a pan."

"You'll do no such thing, or so help me!"

"Save it for the after party, Tommy dear," Martha chuckles, " But I gotta understand, -- this Diana lady's making waves. I never even seen a woman talk to the mayor before. Let alone yell at 'Im."

"That's cause Tommy Elliot only wants women under his desk," A roll of the eye, a coil of disgust fanning resentment In her gut, Lois takes the box. "Sides, little miss princess probably ain't better than he is. "

The problem with always looking back is you're never ready for the forward.

When Lois bumps up in something tall, solid, and warm, she thinks its Clark. Except neither she or Clark smell like vanilla ice cream and clean air and blue oceans.

Clark certainly doesn't have long, majestic hair gracefully dancing in the winds. He doesn't have blood red lips, or strong blue eyes.

Clark's eyes were summer sky blue. Not a blue Medusa herself couldn't stone.

And he certainly doesn't make her heart stop with a smirk.

"Well," Diana Fucking Prince says, voice satin and velvet, "I don't know about being a better. But I could change your mind about that."

[bumblingbabooshka]

Selar & Tuvok on a Mission [Alts on Patreon]

[capybaraonabicycle]

Doctor: Huh, is that who I am now?

Donna: It was never that far from the surface, mate.

Doctor: frowns Yes, it was! You know I used to be a woman. And that made people... assume all sorts of stuff. And - and pretending to be Graham's wife for five minutes was bad enough but - Byron? That was torture. Does the man ever stop talking?

Donna: Takes one to know one

Doctor: Oi! I just mean, there were all these men people assumed I would be into and I - and I just - I just wanted -

Donna: I know, darling.

Doctor: softly I just wanted Yaz.

Donna: I know. - There was one man, though, remember?

Doctor: No, there wasn't! I don't fancy the Master!

Donna: ...

Doctor: Okay, fine. But the Master isn't a man. He's like me! Flexible - uh - timelord gender and stuff.

Donna: Sure.

Doctor: So, anyway, I have always been primarily into wom-

Donna: What about Jack Harkness?

Doctor: - Jack doesn't count, everyone fancies Jack.

Donna: ...fair enough.

[zalimaaa]

gicheul is so down bad for both junmo & euijeong like i think he might commit when he finds out that they betrayed him this much

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

5x1 | 5x19

[scavengerssuccotash]

Would being married to me be that bad?

“You decent?” Clint calls.

“Yeah.” She calls back, leaning closer to the mirror and finishes applying her lipstick. The color suits her complexion beautifully, a bold red to contrast the sleek black of her dress.

Clint whistles as he opens the door and strolls in, looking every letter of the words filthy rich. He’s dressed to the nines, ironed white shirt and black Giorgio Armani suit that stretches beautifully over his broad shoulders.

“Clean up well babe. Limo will be here in thirty.” Clint says, flashing her a wink in the mirror as she applies her mascara.

“You have an allowance on that pet name Barton, don’t over do it.” Natasha replies, a little annoyed. Clint’s been calling her little pet names ever since Maria Hill slapped a mission brief in front of them and retroactively congratulated them on their impromptu marriage in the Bahamas. Natasha normally doesn’t mind, she’s long since made peace with Sweetheart, but there’s only so much of Clint’s unashamed flirting that she can take.

Clint saunters his way to her and twists to lean against the bathroom counter. He hands her the mascara she was intending to use, before plucking the velvet box from the counter.

“Honey cakes?” He counters as he fiddles with the box. An odd look settles over his face as he twists it around in his hands, looking like a kid, trying to work out a Rubik’s cube.

“No.”

“Sugar tits?” Clint’s jokes before giving her a saucy wink.

Natasha pauses mid application, her gaze slides from the mirror to his with deliberate slowness. A warning.

“Certainly not. Where’s your creativity, honey?”

“Right here, darlin’.” He drawls intentionally slipping into a thicker midwestern twang as bumps her shoulder. He meets her brief smile with one of his own before flicking the box open and whistles, impressed. “What did you have to do to get finances to sign off on this fucking behemoth.”

Natasha caps the mascara and rights herself. The ring is nestled in a pillow of creamy satin and glitters in the fluorescent light overhead effortlessly.

“What is that, five-six carrots?”

Natasha tuts moving to grab the box, but Clint twists away, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards in bemused smile.

“Three, and an implied blow job.” Natasha answers dryly.

Clint hums amused before he plucks the ring from its satin bed and tosses the box onto the counter by his hip.

“Explains the hotel and the Am-Ex cards.” He mutters as he holds the ring up to the light. It looks comically small pinched between his fingers.

“You ever play married before?”

Natasha stiffens and makes another grab for the ring but Clint just lifts it higher, effortlessly skirting her attempt. “No,” she scoffs, crossing her arms. “Just a mistress.”

“Always a mistress but never a bride? That’s a rom com waiting to happen.” He teases.

Natasha reaches for the ring again, only to be dismayed when he stretches on his toes, the source of her frustration remaining out of her reach. She’s wearing heels, but Clint uses his handful of inches well. He’s teasing, she realizes, like a child at recess. Natasha huffs, resettling back on her heels. They really didn’t have time for such childish games tonight, there was an arms deal to stop.

Her eyebrow lifts. “Going to pull my pigtails next, Barton?”

Clint’s mouth drops open intending to counter with a raunchy quip when Natasha’s expression stops him.

“Sorry—“ he mumbles, scratching self-consciously at his chin. Natasha holds out her hand expectantly. Instead of dropping the ring into her hand like she expects, Clint instead takes her hand. She pulls back once she realizes what he’s intending to do. Clint tugs her hand back with a soft tut. A soft unfamiliar expression flickers across his face.

“Come on, humor me.” He says, shooting for nonchalance but there’s a softness to his tone that betrays him. “Probably going to be the only time I slip a ring on a woman’s finger.”

Natasha sighs, relenting.

The ring glides on perfectly, the action quick and efficient. There’s no fuss, no awkward electrifying thrill. It’s just a ring, and her hand in his. That alone however feels so right that she barely notices the extra weight on her finger.

Clint drops the briefest of kisses to the back of her knuckles and squeezes her hand.

“Ready to play rich assholes and save the day Mrs. Simmons?”

Natasha gives herself a once over in the mirror, checking for any indiscrepancies in her visual appearance that could blow their cover. She finds none. Satisfied she turns her critical eye towards her partner.

The suit Clint wears is perfectly tailored to fit his stocky frame. Natasha makes a mentally note to send an appreciative email to SHIELD’s disguise department for taking her last suggestion to heart. (The last suit they sent Clint was at least two sizes to large. The shade too strong for his tanned complexion and fair hair.) Clint’s hair is perfectly in place and he had shaved. His aftershave subtle enough to not be off putting but strong enough when in close proximity to make her inhale deeply.

Her partner certainly knows how to clean up well, despite his grumbling about need to wear a monkey suit for this mission.

There is something missing though.

“Honey?”

Clint’s head snaps up from where he was straightening his watch. “Yeah?”

Natasha grips his chin with her thumb and forefinger and tilts his face to the side. Clint stills, gaze unwaveringly intense as she leans forward and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. She pulls back and uses her thumb to smudge the lipstick stain left behind.

“Now, you look like a married man.”

[theodimasbabygirl]

I've seen some people mention this briefly but can I just say I hate the trend of giving Mabel a new love interest every season?? Its so fucking bland and especially worse knowing that they've cycled through two PERFECT developable love interests for her (Oscar and Theo). It just...reeks of some kind of sexualization for lack of a better word I suppose. Its an easy way to get people talking, an easy person for the audience to suspect, etc. I just HATE it. Oscar was there to be a boy toy, Alice was there for woke points, Tobert is there for the sake of giving Mabel someone to kiss. Its OLD and LAZY.

[fantastic-nonsense]

Lois & Clark was such a deeply chaotic show because what do you mean they did a Clois fake married episode in Season 1 and then turned around 8 episodes later and had Lois get engaged to Lex for the season finale plot

[scolachase]

FBI • Shantel VanSanten and John Boyd

Well, the thing that's fun about Nina and Scola is just how they've always – the nature of their relationship – how they butt heads. You know, they struggle always from the get go, from the start of a one night stand to an unexpected pregnancy. I think what we can expect is to see that good old-fashioned Nina/Scola conflict, people bumping heads against each other about how to do this the best way, how to navigate raising a kid.

[aroacettorney]

this might have been my favorite comment on korean aup

[homebody-nobody]

funny how true colors shine (in darkness and in secrecy)

Carrera and Maybank are her best agents. They’re both smart, creative, and driven. Carrera is clever and quick-thinking, and an excellent executor, and there’s no one quite like Maybank with a gun. Peterkin taps her pen on her desk, waiting for one of them to break. They will, of course. Peterkin is betting on Maybank. He’s twitching. He’s twitchy. But then, the muscle in Carrera’s jaw is doing an awful lot of jumping, too. “I’m not doing it with him.” “Literally anyone else.” -- Kie and JJ are fake married for undercover purposes, and hilarity (and also feelings) ensue.

read on ao3

(Happy Birthday, Belle!!)

[zootopiathingz]

matching wildehopps outfits 2025?????? please??????

YES BABY I CALL NICK’S PINK HAWAIIAN SHIRT

[witchkingofanmar]

why would you make a spin off series of a movie where the main character gets tricked into gay marrying a ghost and then not mention this fact even ONCE in the series