#Dr. Carpenter

[k-simp]

Even more Jeffrey Combs c.ai bots!

Foster dad

Montgomery Clift Indigo

Coroner Dr. Carpenter

50557 John Nichols Edgar A. Poe

Rat King Gyrus Krinkle

Here's my c.ai account

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[letmereadherbertwestfics]

Combstober Day 6

Prompt: Baking

Character: Dr. Carpenter (Suburban Gothic)

Warnings: None, but I gave Carpenter an unofficial first name. 

The cool breeze flew by as you opened the kitchen window. Cooking had always made you overheat, so as soon as you finished cooking you made sure to open the windows and let some fresh air in. Currently, you were baking several batches of cookies to surprise your boyfriend with when he arrived home. Being the overworked yet underpaid doctor he was, Carpenter deserved a nice surprise to come home to. 

And right on time, the front door opened and a heavy sigh announced the arrival of an exhausted Carpenter. He dropped his bag by the door and hung up his jacket, looking as miserable as he usually did after work until the scent of baked goods hit his nose, then Carpenter perked up a bit, making his way into the kitchen. 

"What are you doing?" Carpenter asked, a smile finding it's way to his tired face as soon as he saw you. You returned his smile, immediately walking to Carpenter and trapping him in a tight hug.

"Just making a little surprise for you." You said before Carpenter pressed his lips to yours, humming against your mouth.

When he pulled away, his eyebrows were raised in surprise. "For me? What's the occasion?" 

You shrugged, running your hands up and down Carpenter's arms. "No occasion. I just know how much you've been working lately. I wanted to do something nice for you." 

When you spoke Carpenter's smile only got bigger, and he looked happier and more alive than you had seen him in weeks. You would think that as a doctor in such a small town Carpenter wouldn't be so rung dry, but unfortunately that wasn't the case when you lived in such a moronic town as your own. Every day bar fights and restaurants not up to code sent people to the only doctor's office in town, the one belonging to Carpenter. 

Carpenter pressed a kiss to your cheek, holding you closer.

"What did I do to deserve you?" He asked softly, pressing another kiss to your face, this time to your jaw. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, but didn't pull away or tell Carpenter to stop. You'd have been lying if you said you weren't enjoying the extra affection. 

"Please, Brian. All I did was make cookies." You insisted, feigning exasperation that your boyfriend immediately picked up on. And instead of letting up, he instead began pressing more kisses to your face. You cheek, jaw, nose, temple, forehead, anywhere he could reach except for your lips. 

But after a few seconds the two of you were interrupted by the sound of a timer going off, and you pulled away from Carpenter still laughing. 

You slipped on some oven mitts and within seconds there was a large sheet of cookies sitting on the stove cooling. You and Carpenter both admired your work, both of you practically drooling over the smell alone. As the two of you were waiting impatiently for the cookies to cool, Carpenter trapped you in yet another tight hug, placing one final kiss on your cheek.

"I really do love you, Y/N." He spoke softly into your ear, making you practically melt into his embrace. 

"I love you too, Dr. Carpenter."

[jeff-grzebienie]

Combsverse (2)

Part 65

[reidsdimples]

“He pins you down on the carpet, makes paintings with his tongue.”

Paintings With His Tongue

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

18+ ❤️‍🔥MDNI ‼️

“Come on, just tell me what you’re thinking,” Reid smirks and tosses a ball of tissue paper at you.

You cross your legs and tug up your knee high socks. The carpet in his apartment is soft on your legs and you shake your head as you continue to wrap JJ’s baby shower gifts from the team.

You had gotten her a puzzle with the new baby’s name as the pieces ‘Michael’ it read. You thought it went so well with Henry,

“I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s a me issue,” you shake your head. You had bit your tongue on a risqué joke that could have been taken as a pass at him.

The truth was, you were extremely pent up. You dumped your abusive ex weeks ago when he bruised your eye. Even before then, your needs were not being met. But you have always had a thing for Dr.Reid and now being alone with him in his apartment… you were barley holding yourself together.

He moistened his plump lips with his tongue in frustration and sighed. The movements of his deft fingers as he wrapped a present caused you to squirm. How exactly the two of you got roped into present wrapping duty was still a mystery. Though you guessed Garcia was trying to finally push you two into each other like Barbie and Ken dolls. You smile to yourself.

“See? What was that- what are you thinking?” He calls you out.

“You may never know,” you flirt and snatch the tape from his grip.

He raises an eyebrow at you, those deep brown eyes pleading.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, placing your crossed feet on his lap. His eyes travel up to your short skirt which allows him a view of your creamy thighs. You swear he swallows hard.

“I was just thinking…” you start slowly. He leans forward attentively.

He rests one hand on your shin, his long fingers wrapping it completely.

“Thinking what?” The air charges and he separates your crossed legs only to lean forward and closes the distance between the two of you. Your heart hammers and you forget how to breathe.

“I…” you think he’s about to kiss you as he gets closer, forcing you to pull your knees to your chest to give him room as you lean back on your palms.

He snatches the other wrapping paper from behind you and moves back to sit. You inhale sharply and shake your head. Fuck.

He pushes his hair back from his face and you nearly fall apart. You know you need to do something about your neediness. He’s your coworker for fucks sake.

Then an idea pops into your head.

“You know what, we’re profilers. Why don’t YOU tell me what I’M thinking,” you challenge him.

He looks up at you through his messy long hair with the handle of the scissors in his mouth. His fingers quickly work to tape up the diaper bag for JJ.

“I don’t know if I…”

“You doubt your abilities Dr. Reid?” You sit up straight.

“I doubt you’ll like what I profile,” he reasons.

That makes you doubt he knows what you’re actually thinking.

“Try me,” you demand and stuff a bag full of tissue paper.

He narrows his eyes on you and loosens his tie. The dark cardigan was already tossed into the couch three presents ago and he begins rolling up his sleeves.

“You’re healing from your recent break up. You feel guilty that you miss him because he hurt you but you do. What you don’t quit understand is that you miss attention, not him. You deserve better but you don’t think so,” he pauses to sip his wine. You tilt your head.

“Is that it?” You jest.

“You knew you and I would be alone so you’re wearing something more revealing than you might have otherwise. You flip your hair over your shoulder to draw my attention to your neck. You lean back and allow me to see your thighs because you want me between them.”

Your mouth falls open at his words. But he doesn’t stop there.

“Not because you want me specifically but because you want that attention I mentioned before. Perhaps a distraction or…”

“No- that’s not true,” you cut him off.

“You’re wearing glasses, knee high socks, and a school girl style skirt because you perceive me as intellectually superior. You have a school girl and teacher fantasy you wish to act out.”

He leans forward between your legs again. He braces himself above you when you lean back on your elbows and he keeps talking.

“You’ve been trembling since you got here, you won’t stop biting your lip, and you keep squeezing your thighs together. You were about to make a joke that showed your hand but thought better of it because you fear rejection. You also don’t want to cross professional boundaries, and you can’t gauge where my interests lie.”

You’re dumbfounded, actually speechless as his breath fans across your face.

“Your inability to read my micro expressions leaves you feeling uncertain about the chemistry we have and I intended it to be that way. The truth is I want nothing for than to bury my face between your legs and make you scream my name until your throat is so sore that you remember it everytime you speak tomorrow,” he holds your gaze and you’re melting.

You feel your cunt pulsing with need and you want to squeeze your thighs together for some relief but you can’t because he’s kneeling between them.

“Please,” is all you can manager to whimper.

He grips you behind the knees and slides you forward so quickly you barely register it. You fall willingly onto your back with a soft huff and watch him meticulously roll your skirt up. His hair is messy and disheveled and he seems to be panting with need just like you are.

Wrapping paper crinkles beneath you but you don’t care when he leans down and begins kissing your thighs.

“Spencer,” you inhale in shock at his lips on your skin.

He continues to kiss your soft skin then starts nipping it gently. His fingers dig into the outside of your thighs, pinning them open. You never would have thought he’d be so… demanding?

He starts to kiss your pussy through your underwear and you writhe against him. The friction is heaven but the view of him there could send you both straight to hell. He moves one hand up to your hip to pin you down why he uses a thumb to rub your clit. He’s kissing your pussy gently and you know you’re soaked, you know he can feel it through the thin fabric.

Finally he rolls your panties down and out of the way. He looks up at you for consent ones more and dives in like he’s been waiting to his entire life.

It’s too much, it’s everything. His nose pushes against your clit, his tongue drags up between your folds, he comes back down to your interest and pushes his tongue into it into you mewl.

He’s moaning and he licks and laps at your cunt, slowly to savor it. He moans as he sucks your clit into his mouth and moves back down to your hole.

“Oh my god,” you cry and tighten your thighs around his head.

He sucks on your pussy and audibly devours you on his living room floor. He skillfully and artfully brings you to climax and before you know it you’re coming over and over again for him. You pant beneath him and whimper but he doesn’t stop.

He makes small whimpering noises of approval and eats you like a man starved. Your pussy quivers and responds to him as he continues to beckon more cum out of you. You swear his tongue must be painting a masterpiece or spelling every word in the English language.

“One more,” he pants from between your legs.

You roll your eyes back as the fourth orgasm siezes you. You can’t even try to tense your legs anymore, they’re jell-o. You’re shocked when the last orgasm is more squirting that your usual.

“I’m sorry!” You squeal but he laughs and dives back into you, his strong hands still gripping your hips. You cover your face in embarrassment, not ever having had more than one orgasm per sexual encounter.

Ones he fills himself on that last orgasm which left you red faced and embarrassed, Spencer sits up from between your legs. He’s on his knees looking down out you when he brings his shirt up to wipe his face.

You cover your eyes with your hands, utterly shy under his gaze.

“You are incredible,” he breathes.

“Me? You… you’re the one that did all the… that,” you stammer gesturing between the two of you. You sit back up and pull your skirt down.

“Mhmm,” he grins sinisterly at you.

You remain in awe that this man just did that to you. You crushed on him but you never imagined him to be so skilled, so dirty mouthed, and egotistic about his abilities. You glance down and see just how much he enjoyed himself, taken aback by the length of said enjoyment.

You lick your lips hungrily.

“For the record. It’s not about attention for me, I genuinely like you,” you assert and reach for his belt.

He raises his eyebrow in a ‘touché’ manner and crosses his hands behind his back as he watches you pull him free from his pants.

[grilledsnot]

Okay why does he look so cute here

Dr. Carpenter, ‘Suburban Gothic’, 2014.

[fanofspooky]

Halloween II newspaper ads

[kathlare]

sneaking glances

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: During a post-race debrief, Lando struggles to focus as a live stream of Amelie's final performance on the Eras Tour captures his attention. What begins as a secret moment quickly turns into an impromptu team viewing party, exposing his feelings to his colleagues in a humorous and heartwarming way.

Wordcount: 1.1 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

March 9th, 2024 - Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

The post-race debrief felt like it had been dragging on for hours. Lando sat in the dimly lit McLaren meeting room, surrounded by engineers and strategists dissecting every second of his race in Saudi Arabia. P6 in qualifying had felt promising, but slipping down to P8 during the race was frustrating.

As the head engineer clicked through lap data on the screen, Lando leaned back in his chair, his leg bouncing restlessly under the table. His phone, strategically tucked in his hoodie pocket, vibrated softly—a notification from Instagram Live. His heart jumped.

He didn’t need to check to know what it was. Amelie’s last night opening for Taylor Swift on the Eras Tour was happening in Singapore.

Lando had known how much this tour meant to her, how thrilled she was to perform on some of the biggest stages in the world. And tonight was special—her final show. She’d been glowing over FaceTime earlier in the week, buzzing with both excitement and a tinge of sadness that it was coming to an end.

He shifted in his chair, pretending to adjust the waistband of his hoodie as he slid his phone out. Keeping it low and angled away from the team, he unlocked it with a swipe.

The live stream loaded almost immediately, and his chest tightened as Amelie’s voice filled his ears.

Her silhouette was bathed in soft purple light, the crowd roaring as she belted out the final notes of her song. She was dressed in a sparkling outfit that shimmered with every movement, her hair flowing as she twirled across the stage with her signature energy.

She looked breathtaking.

—Lando?— Andrea, his performance coach, nudged him gently, bringing him back to the room.

—Yeah, yeah, I’m listening,— Lando replied quickly, his eyes darting to the screen and back. He adjusted his posture, tapping on the table as if he were fully engaged in the conversation.

But his mind was anywhere but there.

Amelie laughed into the mic, her voice warm and effervescent as she addressed the crowd. —This is my last night opening for Taylor, and I just want to thank every single one of you for making this journey so unforgettable.— The audience erupted in cheers, and Lando couldn’t help but smile. She always knew how to command a room.

He angled the phone closer, careful not to make it obvious, but the subtle glow of the screen caught the attention of Oscar, who was seated beside him.

—What’s that?— Oscar whispered, leaning slightly over to peek.

Lando flinched, quickly tilting the screen away. —Nothing. Just checking... stuff.—

Oscar raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. —Is that… a concert?—

Lando sighed, realizing he wasn’t getting out of this one. He lowered his voice. —It’s Amelie. She’s performing in Singapore.—

Oscar’s eyes widened in recognition. —Wait, Amelie? Like, your Amelie?—

—Shut up,— Lando hissed, his cheeks flushing.

But it was too late. The exchange had drawn the attention of one of the engineers, who leaned over curiously. —What are you watching?—

Lando groaned, sinking lower into his chair as the small crowd around the table grew more intrigued. —It’s nothing, guys. Just focus on the debrief.—

Andrea’s sharp gaze narrowed. —Lando.—

—Fine!— he relented, holding up the phone. The live stream displayed Amelie mid-performance, her voice soaring through the room.

There was a beat of silence before someone muttered, —Damn, she’s good.—

One by one, the team leaned in, captivated. Even Andrea, who had been ready to scold Lando, seemed impressed.

—Isn’t she friends with you?— one of the engineers asked.

Lando shrugged, trying to play it cool. —Yeah. We’re... close.—

Oscar snorted. —Close? Mate, you’re grinning like an idiot. You’re in love.—

—Shut it, Piastri,— Lando muttered, but his smile betrayed him.

The debrief quickly devolved into a makeshift watch party. The engineers abandoned their laptops, the strategists leaned against the table, and even Zak Brown appeared in the doorway, raising an eyebrow at the scene.

—What’s going on here?— Zak asked, his tone amused.

Andrea gestured to the phone. —Lando’s watching his... friend’s concert.—

Zak crossed his arms, clearly entertained. —Friend, huh?—

Lando groaned, burying his face in his hands. —Can we just finish the meeting?—

But no one was listening anymore. Someone connected the phone to the meeting room’s projector, and within seconds, Amelie’s live stream was on the big screen.

She was mid-song, the crowd swaying to the rhythm as she poured her heart into every note. Lando couldn’t take his eyes off her, his chest swelling with pride.

—You know, you could’ve just told us you’re dating her,— Oscar said, nudging him playfully.

—We’re not...!— Lando started, but the room erupted in laughter.

Zak clapped a hand on his shoulder. —It’s okay, kid. We’re rooting for you.—

As Amelie finished her set with her traditional Nonsense outro, Lando’s phone buzzed again, a text from her.

Ames💛: You better not be ignoring your meeting to watch me.

He grinned, typing back quickly.

Lan🧡: Busted. The whole team’s watching now. You were incredible.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Ames💛: Told you you’d fall for me all over again ;)

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as he pocketed the phone.

—Alright, alright, back to work,— Zak called, though his tone was far from serious.

As the team reluctantly turned their attention back to the race debrief, Lando couldn’t help but feel a warmth settle in his chest.

Amelie had always been his biggest distraction—and his greatest joy. And as he glanced at the projector one last time, watching her blow a kiss to the crowd, he realized he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[hooked-on-elvis]

[willowren]

Who’s the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent like

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Kinktober Day 5 - Praise Kink

Pairing: Dr John Carpenter x Reader

Word count: 1.9K

TWs: Praise kink (obviously), fingering, think that's about it?

A/N: Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather for the inspo for this one!

Kinktober masterlist

The knock at the door in the middle of the day confuses you, since you’re not expecting anyone. You don’t really want to answer it, but you’re the only one here so you don’t have a lot of choice. Smoothing your dress down and fiddling with your hair a little, you make your way to the door, opening it cautiously. You’re surprised to see that hot doctor from earlier in the week just standing there. You’d taken your youngest to see him since he’d had a cough that wouldn’t go away and you were starting to worry. Well, you were kind of desperate really. Not having the money to go to a proper doctor, you made your way to this clinic instead. The doctor… Doctor Carpenter, that was his name… had made you feel a lot better about it, and after some tests he gave you something for your son to take and told you not to worry. So you’re not sure what he’s doing on your doorstep right now. 

“Hello? Doctor… um… Carpenter?” 

He’s so gorgeous you feel like you should’ve worn something nicer today.  But how were you supposed to know? Plus, it’s not like he’s here for that. He’s here for your kid, most probably. Or to give you a bill? Maybe you didn’t really understand the clinic properly, maybe it’s not free after all. 

“You can call me John,” he smiles. “And there’s no need to look so worried. I just came to check on your little one.”

“Oh. He’s um… he’s fine. He’s in school.”

“That’s good news,” he says, his warm smile spreading across his face. 

You both stand there for a moment, staring at one another. You’d sort of expected him to go away when you said that, but he’s still there. For his part, John was hoping if he carried on standing there you might invite him in. 

“I- did you want to come in?”

John’s smile somehow gets even bigger. “I’d love to.” 

He’d just wanted to see you again, really. Of course he’s interested in his patients, but there was nothing seriously wrong with your son. Certainly nothing that needed a home visit. But something about you had caught his attention, and he wants to get to know you a little better. It might not be entirely ethical, but he can’t resist. 

You move to open the door for him, and he squeezes past you, much closer than you think is really necessary. The heat radiating off him makes your senses reel. It’s been a while since you’ve been so near another man, never mind one this attractive. 

“Coffee?” You ask, awkwardly, as you lead him into the kitchen. 

“Cream and sugar,” he replies, looking around. 

You almost want to crawl into a cupboard and die. Your house is so messy. Why didn’t you clean this morning?

“I don’t usually… I mean… I wasn’t expecting company.” You’re babbling. This is embarrassing. 

He shrugs. “You’re a busy mom. I won’t judge.” Settling himself down into a chair after moving a pile of magazines off it first. 

You hum and think to yourself that you’re not that busy, your kids are in school after all. You just can’t quite bring yourself to make the house all spick and span for no-one but you and two kids who just like to mess it right back up again. 

“Your husband at work?” He asks, as you put the cup down in front of him and sit down with your own opposite him. 

You blush. “Well, he might be, but it’s not really relevant. We’re divorced.” You still feel like divorce is a dirty word, and look up at him cautiously. 

“Ah. So you’ve got two kids and a household to look after, on your own?”

You sigh a little and look down at your chipped nail polish. “Yeah, I suppose that’s why everything’s such a mess.”

He shakes his head, his hand moving across the table to take hold of one of yours. “I think you’re doing a great job.”

The tenderness of the comment and the feeling of his big, warm hand around yours brings tears to your eyes. “Thank you,” you just about manage. 

He smiles, and the two of you sit there quietly for a bit, drinking the coffee. After a while he moves his hand, and you can barely hide your disappointment. Obviously it was crazy to think anything could happen but… 

“Shall we sit somewhere a little more comfortable?” He asks. 

You almost jump at the suggestion. “Um… oh… yeah, sure. Sorry, these chairs are old and…”

He cuts you off mid-sentence by standing up and moving so near you that you can almost hear his heart beating. “I just want to sit closer to you.”

You feel dizzy as you stand up, almost unable to process the words he’s just said, walking him over to the sitting room and then gesturing to the sofa. True to his word, he sits very close, his knee touching yours. 

“How is your little one doing?” He asks, gently. 

You sigh. “Well he’s tiring me out. Everything is a battle with him at the moment. He’s nothing like my eldest, he’s… I mean he’s wonderful and I love him very much.” You suddenly think you’ve said too much and the end comes out in a rush. Then you realise he was probably only asking about the cough. “And his cough’s much better now, thank you, Dr… uh…John.”

John smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. He can tell you don’t normally say things like that about your kids. 

“It’s alright to be frustrated sometimes,” he tells you. “Doesn’t make you any less of a good mom.”

You feel yourself wobble at his words, and bite your lip to try and hold on to some semblance of reality.

“I don’t think… none of the other moms feel like this about their kids…” you look past him, afraid to make eye contact. “But then none of them are divorced…”

He gently pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger to get your attention, his bright blue eyes staring right into yours. “You’re a beautiful woman, you know that?”

You tremble a little. “I mean, I’m not sure I-”

He cuts you off, this time by pressing his lips against yours. They’re soft and pillowy and when he pulls back you just want more. Your fingers rest on the back of his neck as you both look at one another for a moment and then he kisses you again, properly this time, his tongue gently pushing inside your mouth. You haven’t been kissed in so long, you think you might pass out.

“John, I…”

“I couldn’t get you out of my mind after you came in that day. I had to come and find you.”

“But I’m such a mess I-”

“You’re beautiful, honey. And you’re such a good mom.”

He starts to kiss your neck and you hold onto his head, your senses reeling. He hums at the smell of your perfume, the feeling of your quickening pulse against his lips. He knows he shouldn’t really do this in the middle of the day, he’s left the clinic with the nurses in charge and he isn’t supposed to be gone for too long. But you’re just irresistible right now.

“Can I touch you, honey?”

You almost whimper as you sigh out a “yes,” his big, strong hands gently caressing your body. You’re suddenly grateful you decided to shower this morning. There’d been a few mornings recently when it hadn’t really seemed worth it. 

A hand glides up your leg and under your skirt as he lays you back against the sofa, still paying attention to your neck and collarbone with those soft lips of his. You feel your face redden as he starts to rub you, gently, through your panties. 

“You’re such a good mom, baby,” he coos, rubbing a little more firmly now. 

You find yourself moaning, almost against your will. Your husband never made you feel like this, with just his fingers. But then, your husband never touched you like this at all. It was just, wham, bam, thank you ma’am. And then he’d fall asleep. There was no thought whatsoever about whether you’d had a good time or not. 

“John,” you moan, softly. 

His fingers find their way into your panties and you feel them stroking your pussy then swirling around your clit, making your breath catch in your throat. 

“So good, so caring…” he murmurs, feeling your hips buck into his hand at the words. “You like it when I talk to you like that?”

You find yourself whining now, noises coming out of your mouth you didn’t even know you made. 

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please… don’t stop.”

You don’t know whether you mean don’t stop the touching or don’t stop the praise, but he doesn’t stop either. 

“Such an incredible woman…” his fingers picking up speed, slipping around your clit, wet with your arousal. “So beautiful. So strong. Taking such good care of your kids…” A long finger plunges inside you, making you gasp. “You deserve so much, baby.” Two fingers now, your walls squeezing them as you arch your back, pushing into his palm, wanting him back on your clit too. “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

You pant, your chest heaving, the feeling of ecstasy so close now. 

“I want to.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth as his fingers pump in and out of you, thumb pressing against your clit. 

“Tell me what you need.”

You whine and close your eyes, rolling your hips against him, so close. 

“Tell me again,” you ask, your voice hoarse with emotion and the closeness of your orgasm. “That I’m… that I’m a good mom.”

He nips at your neck, so turned on by this whole thing, his dick straining against his pants. Fingers working overtime, his mouth is on your ear, hot breath tickling you. 

“You’re such a good mom, baby,” he almost growls, and it’s all you need. 

“Ohhh, John…” 

Your eyes roll back in your head as you arch into his hand, the rush of pleasure making you feel almost faint as blood rushes to your centre. 

He slowly removes his fingers and he can’t resist licking them clean, dying for a taste of you. If he had more time he’d try and make you cum again, with his mouth this time, but he knows he should get back. His arms snake around your waist and he pulls you close. He can make time to hold you for a little while. 

“I should get back to the clinic,” he murmurs, after a few minutes. 

You have to hold back a pathetic whine. You want him to stay so much. 

“Do you… do you think you’ll make another house call?” You screw your eyes shut, afraid of the response. Maybe that was all he wanted, maybe he’s not interested anymore. 

He nuzzles into your neck. “Same time tomorrow?” He asks. 

You nod eagerly and he grins. 

“I bet you’re as good with your hands as you are at everything else. And I know I’d like to find out.”

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning

[deke-rivers-1957]

Kung Fu Elvis Part 4

If you're new to this series, the point of this is to find out which Elvis character is the best fighter given an uninterrupted hand to hand combat styled fight. The goal is to rank each individual Elvis character and then within each tier determine who would win against who.

How I plan on determining this will be by finding each character's age, size and general background. How well a character does in on screen fights will also be considered but analyzed on a case by case basis. Sometimes an Elvis character loses a fight simply because it's a comedy, or due to the low quality stage fighting wins because his opponents are laughably weak.

At the end of the day this is all headcanon as these are all fictional characters. If you disagree with how I rank a character I would love to hear your thoughts on where you would put them.

While it isn't specifically stated, Change of Habit takes place in 1969. Sister Irene even being in the same sisterhood and being allowed to share housing with Sisters Michelle and Barbara who are both white is a sign this is after the Civil Rights Act of 1968. That law specifically cracks on discrimination regarding housing meaning it would be against the law to disallow Sister Irene from rooming with her white Sisters. Any issues regarding Sister Irene's race is seen at a de facto level since just because a law is past, doesn't mean everyone's attitudes immediately change to reflect it. Amanda canonically having autism and Dr. Carpenter using a rage reduction therapy also indicates this is 1969 at the earliest. Robert Zaslow's practice of using this therapy doesn't take off on a widespread level until the 1970s, but since no one else seemed to know about the therapy it's safe to assume this was when it was still in its infancy. Despite being a doctor, he's not necessarily comfortably well off because he works in an under privileged neighborhood. Clinics like the one we see didn't exactly get that much money compared to state/federally funded hospitals, so it's very possible for him to have to pay for medical supplies out of his own pocket. While he wouldn't have exactly starved since this town wasn't a food desert, it isn't out of the question to assume he had to keep his meals very simple. And since fitness culture as we know it wouldn't exist for about another decade, there was no need for him to have well defined muscles.

I'm making a revision on John's age. In my tidbit I said that I was making him an even 30 years old to reflect how long medical school takes. After going back and really thinking about the line where he explains why he became a doctor, I need to make a change. John mentions that he became a doctor as a way to pay it forward after his army sergeant saved his life. Since John specifically said this sergeant was killed on the other side of the world, the most likely assumption is that he was killed in a war. My best guess is that based on the amount of time John could be in the army and become a medical doctor, John would've served during the Korean War. Given that Elvis himself was born in 1935, John would actually need to be older than Elvis by at least a few months for this to be possible. Therefore, Dr. John Carpenter is at least 35 years old.

A Blue Hawaii movie poster appearing in the background strongly indicates that this was in 1962. Blue Hawaii came out in November, 1961. Since Christmas is literally never mentioned as being any time soon, you can assume this was after the New Year. No one needing so much as a windbreaker while over open waters indicates it's at least March. In fact, in the scene where Ross and Laurel are staying at the Yung family's house during the night, there's heavy rain. That type of heavy rain in Honolulu typically occurs between October and April with the summer months being relatively dry. The fishing season for tuna in particular takes place between March and August. You even see Ross try to help land a marlin at the beginning and they can be found in Hawaiian waters all year. However, because you only see them trying to catch one once, you get the idea that this is outside of their peak fishing season which is purely during the summer. Ross having the connections that he does with the Stavros family and the Yung family keeps him from being completely on his own. Even if he didn't have their help regarding a job and shelter, he's right by open waters. The native Hawaiians lasted a significantly long period of time fishing on a personal level, so at the very least Ross will not be at a risk of starving. If anything if a lot of Ross' meals contained properly prepared tuna, it would actually be very beneficial to his health. Tuna is one of the best foods a man can consume to not only reduce his risk of heart disease, but is also a great source of protein which promotes muscle growth (which is an important factor to consider when talking about the science behind fighting).

Like I said in my tidbit, I don't really have that many clues about how old Ross would be. We only get an indication of his past through a non-descript account of what happened. We don't know how much time has passed since his mother died, only that it was after he was born. Maternal mortality rates being relatively high in the 1930s doesn't make things easier when determining a specific year. His dad dying while talked about as if it was a recent enough event also doesn't help because nothing is specific. If Ross is able to work in a night club, and has been working for on a fishing boat for a long enough period of time yet not have the savings to buy the boat back himself, he has to be pretty young. Ross has never mentioned being in the military which would make him around the same age as Elvis. When you look at the draft numbers by year, once the Korean War ended, draft rates are pretty low. If the possibility of him being drafted isn't even a consideration, Ross would've had to turn 18 in late 1953 or later. For it to still not be a consideration Ross would have to be older than 25 since that's the Selective Service cutoff. Therefore, Ross is in his mid to late 20s.

My tidbit went into a lot of detail regarding the history of the Southwest and Mexico. One thing I will edit is that we can no longer assume this takes place in Tucson. I've since found signs found on a couple businesses that says the town's name is Rio Seco. Even though there are apartment complexes in Tucson with that name, this town is most likely fictional. What I didn't even consider is the type of guns that the characters use. Assuming the props seen are accurately depicting what is meant to happen, we can use these to determine a range of time. As a reminder the initial range that I used as a starting point is 1867-1910. So for the revolvers used, they were Colt Single Action Army Civilian models. Since it's defined as having a 4.75 inch barrel and .45 cartridge this type of gun would've entered the civilian market in 1874. Most rifles shown are 1892 Winchesters and are described as being a .38-40 caliber, making it an original design. Therefore, we'll just put this movie between the late 1890s and early 1910s. Since a small desert town like that wouldn't have significant changes from year to year, Jess' living conditions that I mentioned in my tidbit wouldn't change. Maybe if he comes back to town as the new sheriff, there's a reduced chance of starving but it still wouldn't be enough to promote adequate muscle growth.

I have no choice but to stick with what I guessed in my tidbit. Unless someone has more information from reading the book, I just don't have the information to make a better guess. I don't have the knowledge on how old you have to be to be sheriff in that time period. Even if I did, it Jess wasn't officially elected so his actual age wouldn't be a factor in that decision. The only confirmation I have to my guess is that the timeline would add up for Jess to have some familiarity to the Emperor's failed campaign in 1867 and still be in his early 30s.

I'm genuinely amazed that when looking up female bullfighters, Dolores was actually ahead of her time. Unless this movie's trying to tell us it really takes place before the Spanish Civil War, Dolores being an extremely famous female bullfighter is fictional. The Spanish Civil War was in the 1930s and many Spanish speaking countries had women banned from the sport. Unless there's a matadora that I'm not aware of Mexico didn't even have a matadora that famous until 2010. I have no idea who Dolores is meant to be a reference to since the only female bullfighters from the same time period as the movie were American. Figuring out where and when the former Duke and Margarita lost their peerage titles wouldn't help either since most abolished monarchies in Europe occurred during the 1940s or well after the movie was made. What is indisputable though is that Mike stays at the Acapulco Hilton Hotel which is still open as the Emporio Acapulco Hotel. This specific hotel opened in 1962 meaning it would have to take place around then as well. Given that trapeze artists still had relative success in the 1960s and need a specific diet, Mike would've had light, protein rich regular meals.

Like I said in my tidbit, we simply don't have enough clues on Mike's age outside of the obvious. Mike not getting a work VISA had nothing to do with his age since you can be as young as 15 and get one. Mike is obviously older than 15. For simplicity's sake the drinking age in all of Mexico is 18. Meaning they will not sell you alcohol if you don't prove you're 18 or older. Since Mike isn't noticeably carded for age verification, we can at the very least assume he's over 18 years old. Mike being part of a family trapeze act and a cliff diver doesn't necessarily help us either since there's no specific age requirement that would break this down any further. Only thing I can say is that for Olympic sport climbers, the average man is about 26 years old. I specified sport climber because it's the closest equivalent to Mike having to climb up the side of a cliff. So if we statistically label 26 years old as around a man's peak, we can assume Mike is around this age.

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John is the oldest Elvis character both based on how he's writing and based on how Change of Habit was his last movie. Being 35 means he would be at a big age disadvantage. Since I'm using MMA standards to determine a man's physical peak, John is well beyond that. Also look at his opponents: he punched an overweight man who looked old enough to be a senior citizen and his lackeys but the way it was portrayed felt very lackluster, and he disarmed Julio which doesn't even count.

I know I put him in C tier but the more I look at him, John is not capable of handling an official fight. He's so skinny that I highly doubt his ability to take a punch against someone a lot stronger than him. Also look at his stamina. Despite being a former military man, John is shown as being winded playing football with children. John might be able to get lucky hits in and can beat old people but he stands no chance against those who are younger than him. He's in D tier simply because he's not even close to being physically capable of beating better opponents.

Ross has little variety in his opponents. Only a severely drunk man and Mr. Johnson who's about John's age. I know it's a matter of what the story dictates but Ross being able to dodge a drunk man's attack indicates that he has at least some reflexes. Being in his mid-late 20s puts him at his peak where he has the right combination of strength and experience. Even though he fought an older man twice, he was able to beat him twice. Fighting the same opponent more than once can be a disadvantage if you're not as skilled because your opponent would've had the ability to counteract any surprises. Ross beating Mr. Johnson twice is a sign that his first win was more than luck. He had to have a genuine amount of skill to win given that Mr. Johnson was outright expecting a fight of some kind.

Ross is a great example of how you can be skilled without having direct training. Working on a boat allowed Ross to build up some muscle in his upper body and walking/running everywhere (especially on uneven terrain) built up his leg muscles as well. One aspect of fighting that really works to Ross' advantage is footwork and balance. Being on a boat in the open waters is as unstable as you can get outside of being in a severe earthquake. If you can handle that without losing your balance or getting sick, a fight on a flat surface should be easy. Easily a B tier fighter since his footwork gives him an advantage against other "common man" opponents.

Jess doesn't have a single fight that would count under my rules. You don't bring weapons to a fist fight and that's what we're determining. Jess slamming Billy Roy's head into the jail cell's bar or punching him after he shot the sheriff doesn't even count as fights since Billy Roy wasn't in any position to fight back on both occasions.

When you consider that he comes from a completely different time period where food was a bit more scarce; he's older than 30 which puts him past his peak; and he doesn't have a single onscreen fist fight win under his belt, Jess would be at a huge disadvantage. I'll have to update Clint's rank in my final list based on my choice to include Does Not Apply since he comes from even earlier in time than Jess. It simply isn't fair to put people from the 1860s in fights against people from ~100 years in the future when society as a whole has changed.

Moreno is his only fight but his physical activity more than makes up for it. There was no cheap shot, one punch knock situation. This was a clean fist fight. He's a trapeze artist and was able to successfully attempt one of the most dangerous cliff dives in the world without ever officially training for it. The upper body strength from being a trapeze artist would give him a big advantage when generating a strong swing.

I know I just said physical activity more than makes up for only having one fight, but that's only in regards to even giving him a rank. You know that he's physically capable of putting an opponent down. I'd say he's about equal to Ross and would put him in B tier. I think between the two, Ross might be slightly younger and has a more well rounded strength that serves him better in in a fist fight.

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To summarize this part:

Ross is in B tier.

Mike W. is in B tier below Ross.

Dr. John Carpenter is in D tier.

Jess simply DNA and will not get an official rank.

Tagging: @karel-in-wonderland, @crash-and-cure, @lynettethemadscientist, @leighpc, @alienelvisobsession,

@seredelgi, @southcarolinawoman, @arrolyn1114, @ash-omalley, @snicks-12,

@freudianslumber, @be-my-ally, @xanatenshi @vintagepresley, @peaceloveelvis,

@tupelomiss, @peskybedtime, @squaggleson, @idk583838, @mercsandmonsters,

@wanderingelvis, @ssinnerplazahotel, @50sexyshadesfashionista, @lola-1013, @smokeymountainboy,

@lookingforrainbows, @polksaladava, @butler-on-beale-street, @an-americcan-trilogy, @lilmisspeaches,

@illtakeyouhomeagain, @livelaughelvis, @elvispresley1935, @eapep, @thelonelyheart,

@presleysweetheart, @dreamingofep, @mooodyblue, @makethemorning, @whositmcwhatsit,

@suraemoon, @swingdownsweetchariot, @theelvisprincess, @theelvispres-blog, @somethingaboutelvis,

@eapep, @pledgingmylovee and @hooked-on-elvis.

[thetorturedlovergirl]

Uhmmm close enough welcome back The Doctor and River Song !!!

[hooked-on-elvis]

*sigh*

Elvis Presley during production of Universal's “Change of Habit,” circa April 1969.

[jeff-grzebienie]

Combsverse ((3))

Part 80

[texaschainsawmascara]

vintagevideobasement on ig

[esqueletosgays]

HALLOWEEN (1978)

Director: John Carpenter Cinematography: Dean Cundey