#Bloodshot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whump-about-it · 18 days

Text

Can I Stay Here Tonight?

@whumpril Day 8: Bloodshot

CW: injuries, implied beating, implied torture, implied captivity, exhaustion, implication that Whumpee may be in hiding and/or unhoused

It wasn't unusual for Whumpee to go missing for days or even weeks at a time. No one ever really knew where they went when they disappeared, But they always came back, and usually in one piece. So everyone had long since stopped worrying.

Caretaker had barely even noticed Whumpee was missing again. Only just realizing they hadn't seen them in nearly a week the same night Whumpee showed up again.

It had been raining cats and dogs all day, and Carertaker was having a pleasent evening in, watching trash tv with their roommate and playing a game of cards when the window that lead onto their fire escape eeked open and Whumpee came tumbling in.

"We have a door you know." Roommate told them, barely fazed by Whumpee's random appearance. Whumpee had a talent for slipping in and out of places unnoticed. And considering the late hour, they had probably assumed the roommates would be a sleep.

Whumpee stood up and closed the window again behind them before so much as acknowledging the apartment owners, who stayed on the couch watching them curiously. They were soaking wet. Unsurprising considering they had just climbed three stories on an outdoor stairway. Their usually baggy clothing clung to their skin, reminding Caretaker nauseatingly of just how small Whumpee actually was. It also didn't escape Caretaker's notice that Whumpee was wearing the same clothing that they had been in the last time the two had seen each other; some five days before.

"Sorry to intrude." Whumpee said in a dead pan voice when they finally turned to look at Caretaker and Roommate. They had dark circles under their eyes and a cut next to their left ear. Caretaker thought they looked paler than usual, but it could have just been the way their water-darkened hair stuck to their face.

"I just need to borrow your bathroom."

It was the only explanation Whumpee gave before they walked past Caretaker and Roommate towards their bathroom down the hall, water dripping them their sopping clothes as they went. Caretaker's eyes followed Whumpee as they disappeared. There was a tired slump to their shoulders and an unevenness to their gait that made Caretaker think they were concealing a limp.

"First aid kit's under the sink!" Caretaker called after them, but Whumpee gave no indication of having heard. As soon as Caretaker heard the sound of the bathroom door click shut they turned back to Roommate and frowned. Roommate didn't look too pleased about Whumpee's sudden appearance in their apartment. Those two were not each others biggest fans, but they put up with one another for Caretaker's sake, so Roommate seemed to have decided to keep their mouth shut for now.

"I should go check on them."

Roommate nodded in agreement.

"I'll put a kettle on."

Caretaker went to their room and grabbed a clean pair of sweat pants and a fresh t-shirt they didn't think would be too baggy on Whumpee before giving the bathroom door a courteous knock and entering. They knew Whumpee would have preferred their privacy, and probably would have locked the door if they could. But as it was, the lock on the bathroom door had been broken as long as Caretaker and Roommate had been lived in the place, and it was Caretaker's place after all, so they refused to feel bad about inviting themselves in.

Inside the bathroom Whumpee had stripped down to their underwear and was sitting perched on the edge of the bathtub, the first aid kit sitting open on the lowered toilet lid next to them. Mostly nude, it was obvious Whumpee had been in some kind of trouble. They had bruises all up their torso and arms. There was another scabbing over cut on their collar bone similar to the one by their ear, and shredded up skin on the outside of their left leg from mid-calf to upper thigh that looked like they had lost a fight with a cheese grater. Their knuckles were scabbed and bruised and there were concerningly dark purple bruises around their wrists. The worst of their injuries however seemed to be a series of deep gashes on their forearm that Whumpee was currently picking glass out of with a pair of tweezers.

"I'm fine." Whumpee said defensively, barely looking up at Caretaker as they walked in.

"Yeah, you look fantastic." Caretaker set the clothes down on the vanity and went to crouch next to Whumpee. It was by no means the worst condition Whumpee had ever stumbled into their apartment in, but they didn't look good either. Up close, Caretaker could tell that Whumpee was indeed paler than usual. And their eyes were deeply bloodshot. In fact their whole body language screamed at exhaustion, and Caretaker wondered if they had slept at all since they'd last seen them.

Caretaker knew better than to ask what had happened. Or where Whumpee had disappeared to. Whumpee had never lied to Caretaker, but they would down right refuse to answer such questions. The two had spent days worth of time arguing about it. Caretaker wanted to help. Of course they did, and they'd rather prevent Whumpee from getting hurt than patch them up after the fact. But Whumpee had their secrets, and as they often liked to point out during their fights, Caretaker had known that when their lives had first become intertwined with one another. Caretaker knew Whumpee thought they were protecting them by keeping so many secrets from them. But they also knew Whumpee could disappear and Caretaker would never see or hear from them again if they tried to dig to deep. So they resigned themselves, as they always had, to helping Whumpee where they were permitted too, and praying they knew their limits otherwise.

They watched Whumpee for a few seconds as they tried to pick the pieces of dark colored glass out of their own weeping arm. They weren't doing a very good job of it. Their hands were shaking violently. Whether from cold, or pain, or tiredness, Caretaker didn't know.

"Here, let me." They finally said and plucked the tweezers from Whumpee's trembling hands before they could refuse. It was a testament to just how awful Whumpee must have been feeling that they in fact didn't refuse Caretaker's help, and even turned their arm to give Caretaker a better angle on their wound.

They didn't flinch as Caretaker plucked the tiny pieces of glass from their skin. They almost never did. Caretaker did however pretend not to notice the way their eyes were getting waterier and more bloodshot as they worked. Soon enough all the glass was out of the wound and Caretaker was cleaning it with an alcohol swab and taping a gauze pad over it. Whumpee gave an audible hiss when the alcohol made contact with heir broken skin, but still didn't move. Afterwards, Caretaker insisted that they be aloud to clean the road rash on Whumpee's leg as well before they put clothes back on. Whumpee gave in oddly easily and leaned their head against the wall as Caretaker worked, their red eyes slipping closed slowly.

It must have been the exhaustion that was making them so malleable. Whumpee was never this easy.

"You were hoping Roommate and I wouldn't catch you breaking in didn't you?" Caretaker poked gently as they worked, wondering if Whumpee may just be tired enough to let something slip.

Whumpee hummed in response and nodded vaguely, still not opening their eyes.

"Done it before." They mumbled after a second. The only surprising thing about that was that they admit it.

"Were you in handcuffs?" Caretaker decided to poke a little deeper. They were almost finished with Whumpee's leg, and those bruises on their wrists did look very painful. Even half asleep though Whumpee knew better than to let their guard slip, and the two remained in silence with the unanswered question hanging between them, until Caretaker was finished working and the kettle was whistling in the kitchen.

"There," Caretaker said resolutely when they'd finished. "Now put on the dry clothes, and where ever you want to disappear too tonight, you're at least staying for a cup of tea first."

Caretaker stood to leave, considering where they should situate themselves outside the bathroom to make sure Whumpee didn't slip out any windows without making it look like they were hovering. Before they could make it more than two steps however, Whumpee had reached out a hand and weakly grabbed Caretakers wrist.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Whumpee asked in a meek tired voice. They looked up at Caretaker with what they could have only describe as puppy eyes. If puppies eyes were usually glassed over and bloodshot that is. It was still enough to crumble any resolve Caretaker might have had about the situation, if there had ever been any in the first place. Whumpee rarely asked Caretaker for anything, and they had never asked to spend the night. Whatever had happened to them this time, it must have been worse their physical injuries let on.

"Of Course you can. You never have to ask that. You're always welcome here."

#whump drabble #whumpee x caretaker #whump #whumpril #whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #bloodshot #stoic whumpee #tw injuries #tw implied torture #tw implied captivity #tw implied unhoused whumpee

71 notes · View notes

fizzfags · 2 months

Note

As per usual I shall request bloodshot, bonus points if they are covered in blood. I pay in cat pics

i hope this is adequate 🫡

#mailbox #jrwi #riptide #jay ferin #anastasia grimm #bloodshot #lukas gallery

68 notes · View notes

im-a-wonderling · 5 months

Text

Safety Harness

This is my piece for @thepenultimateword's song-story writing challenge. My song was "Bloodshot" by Sam Tinnesz, which was submitted by @epiclamer. This was a lot harder than I thought, but such a good exercise! Shout out to @writing-on-the-wahl for helping me out with this. She just has a way of making everything better. ❤️

Word count: 2.8k

Hunter didn’t like using front doors. Nor did she like knocking.

That’s why, when she roughly pulled a gagged Kidnapee from her unassuming blue sedan, she went straight around the mansion to the French double doors at the back of Client’s house. She shoved the doors open with such force, they swung, bounced off the walls, and swung back in her direction. Hunter lifted a hand to block the door before it hit her. Kidnapee’s hands, unfortunately, were bound, and therefore he was unable to stop the door from hitting him in the face.

Client sat alone at the head of a long dining table of dark wood, several plates of food in front of him. He didn’t look the least bit surprised or put out by Hunter’s rambunctious entrance. He merely set down his fork. “That was quicker than I expected,” was all he said before lifting his pristine, cream cloth napkin to wipe his mouth.

“I don’t mess around.” Hunter dragged Kidnapee to the other end of the table and forced them down into the chair.

Client rose to his feet, walking slowly closer, his eyes never leaving Kidnapee. Smoothly, Hunter stepped in between the two of them. “My money?”

“Oh,” Client said with all his slippery charm, “come now, it’s crass to discuss–”

“Money, or I’m taking Kidnapee right back to where I found them.” She cocked her head. “Considering now they know where you live, that would not end well for you.”

Client’s upper lip curled. “Fine.” He slid his hand into his pocket, lifting out his phone. “Hello,” he said quickly. “I need you to transfer that money we talked about.” The voice on the other side of the phone garbled a bit. “Thank you, Barney.” He hung up and then made to walk around Hunter.

Hunter held up her hand. “Not so fast.” She pulled out her own phone, to wait for the number to increase.

It did, by exactly the amount agreed upon.

Hunter dropped her hand. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she said, tucking her phone into her pocket and leaving the way she’d come before Client could make her stay, whether for a drink or for participation in whatever nefarious treatment he had planned for Kidnapee.

He hadn’t requested Kidnapee be blindfolded, so Hunter knew Kidnapee wasn’t walking out of this mansion.

And it wasn’t any of Hunter’s concern. All she did was find people and deliver them to her patrons. What happened after that was not her decision.

Hunter was done having things on her conscience.

All she cared about now was making enough money to follow through with her plans. Even after a month of doing these jobs, she still hadn’t made enough, but tonight, that could change.

She knew firsthand how wealthy her next potential customer was.

Hopping into her sedan, Hunter sped off into the evening traffic, heading for the Honey Cloud. No other diner in the city had as atrocious a name nor French fries as delicious as the Honey Cloud, but neither of those earmarked it as Hunter’s place of business. It was the alleyway behind it. Small, filled with trashcans, and dimly lit, it allowed for Hunter to keep her identity secret, and it was an easy location to litter with traps in case a meeting went poorly.

And should all her traps fail, Hunter always strapped herself into her harness. If anyone got too close, all she had to do was pull a strap, and the harness would yank her up into the air and onto the roof. She’d never needed the harness, but she knew the one night she didn’t have it in place was the night she would need it.

Once she was all strapped in, Hunter waited, heart pounding in spite of herself.

She had her mask on, her hood up, her harness clipped on, and stood in the darkest part of the alley with a remote in her pocket that controlled all three hidden traps. She reminded herself that she was safe and prepared. If the conversation took a turn, if he threatened her, she could easily leave. In spite of her internal monologue, however, her hands shook as she waited for the customer to arrive.

She didn’t have to wait long.

A car drove up to the mouth of the alleyway, and the backdoor opened, revealing the tall and imposing body of Villain himself.

Simply by laying eyes on him, one could feel the sheer power contained in his tall, broad body.

Languidly, he got out, gave an order to the driver, and then shut the door. The car drove off, leaving Villain alone on the sidewalk, peering into the alley as he buttoned and straightened the blazer of his pale blue suit. Holding his head high, he walked into the alley, one hand lifting to check the knot of his salmon pink tie. As he walked closer, his nose wrinkled as the smell from the trash cans hit him.

“That’s far enough,” Hunter called, taking on a voice a few tones deeper than her normal one. He was standing right on the edge of her first trap, and good customer service didn’t involve getting a weighted net thrown at you.

Villain stopped, seemingly unsurprised with the sudden announcement of her presence. He then glanced around, probably realizing he stood directly at the edge of the direct light from the street. “You expect us to talk while we stand fifteen feet apart?”

“If you want to talk at all, yes.”

Villain pursed his lips in the nature of a man used to getting what he wanted, clearly unhappy with the arrangement and debating whether or not he was going to comply.

Hunter nervously clenched the strap of her harness, ready to pull it if necessary.

But Villain finally bobbed his head once in a nod.

“So what can I do for you?” Hunter asked, maintaining her alto tone.

“I need you to find someone for me,” Villain said.

“I would assume so,” Hunter said dryly. “That is the nature of my job.”

To her surprise, Villain didn’t frown or snap back. He just stood, squinting into the dark, rubbing his hands as if he’d just put lotion on them and was trying to spread it around evenly.

Hunter’s nerves elevated. “If I’m going to find them, you’re going to need to be a bit more specific.”

Villain lowered his hands, sliding them into his pockets with a cool, practiced air. “I need you to find Hero for me.”

Hunter blinked, glad for the darkness and the mask to contain any surprised expression she might’ve made.

Villain was not the first person who’d come asking for her services in regards to Hero, but she’d expected him to come asking about a long-lost parent, a wayward henchman, even a recently jilted lover, not his nemesis. Her curiosity rose, and despite her best efforts, she couldn’t beat it back. “Let me guess,” she said loftily, “you want Hero dead because–”

“No!” Villain snapped. “I want you to find her, not kill her.”

“Again, that is the nature of my job,” Hunter said. “But you’ll kill her once I bring her to you, yes?”

Villain shifted, clearing his throat. “What I do with her after you’ve located her is not in the nature of your job.”

“That it isn’t,” Hunter remarked. “But if you want to continue this conversation, you’ll tell me why you want to find her.”

Villain visibly faltered. “Does it really matter?” he asked. He must’ve really wanted to find Hero, because he didn’t try to intimidate or bully Hunter into leaving it alone, as if he didn't want to offend her.

Hunter stayed quiet. She wasn’t going to repeat herself, nor would she allow herself to get tricked into continuing the conversation anyway. Hunter once watched an interrogation once where the interrogator said barely three words the whole hour. The power of the interrogator’s silence was enough to extract any information they needed. She mimicked them now.

Villain reached up a hand, loosening his tie. Was she imagining the beads of sweat on his forehead? “I…I owe her a debt.” Hunter tried to tame her interest, she really did. This was a business meeting, nothing more.

But she needed to know.

“What debt?”

“Why do you want to know?” Villain countered, jutting his jaw forward, as if he were trying to make himself look more imposing.

Hunter remained silent.

“This information won’t affect your ability to find her or bring her to me,” Villain tried again.

Still, no words passed through Hunter’s lips.

“You’re being childish,” Villain scoffed.

“You know, if you’re trying to get me to do this for you, insulting me isn’t going to get you very far.”

Villain stared at the ground in front of him, visibly struggling, but she knew the second he looked down that he was going to tell her. “She killed someone for me,” Villain said finally, looking back up into the darkness surrounding Hunter.

“You’ve killed loads of people.”

“You don’t understand,” Villain ran a hand through his neatly coiffed hair, messing it up. “For her, it is a big deal, she’s nothing like–” he cut himself off.

“Nothing like who?” Hunter asked softly.

“Doesn’t–”

“–matter?” Hunter finished. Villain turned to the side, staring at the trash cans as if he’d quite like to aim a kick at them. Hunter debated telling him that if he did so, he was responsible for picking up every piece of trash up again.

Judging by the twist of his lips, Villain was two seconds away from walking out of this alley.

“Last I heard,” Hunter said, trying for a bit of a drawl, “Hero broke your hand. How’d you go from that to owing her anything?”

She expected Villain’s face to sour at the mention of his old injury. Instead his head bowed as he looked down at the appendage in question. He didn’t say anything.

Hunter knew she needed to go back to the original topic. But as she watched Villain silently stare down at a bumpy scar on the back of his hand, she couldn’t bring herself to continue business. “Look, you want a bit of advice from me?” Hunter finally said. “Go home. Put your feet up. Forget about her.”

“No,” Villain said stubbornly.

“Trust me.” Hunter swallowed hard. “Hero’s not worth it.”

Villain pulled out his phone. “How much do you want?” His tone was cold and unyielding.

Hunter chewed on her lip, unsure of exactly what to do. She should end the conversation now. In fact, she should’ve ended it the moment he brought up Hero. But…she had no idea Villain cared this much about his famed nemesis. Her self-preservation pulled her one way, and her curiosity pulled her the other in a furious game of tug-of-war. “How much is Hero worth to you?” she asked finally.

“So you can ask for twice whatever I list? No, thank you.”

“No, I want to know.” Hunter ran the toe of her boot across the alley ground, creating a dim scraping sound. “How far are you willing to go to settle this debt of yours?”

Villain narrowed his eyes, still untrusting. His mouth stayed stubbornly closed.

“Look,” Hunter said, adopting a tone of impatience, “if you want it quick and dry, go find the Beckham brothers and do business with them.”

Please, she added on silently.

Villain shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “They wouldn’t take the job. They recommended you.”

Again, Hunter was thankful for the darkness to cover any expression she might’ve made. The Beckham brothers would do anything for money, even if it was streaking on a college campus as part of a fraternity initiation ritual. “Why’d they turn it down?”

Villain pursed his lips. “Few people want to take on the agency.”

A flood of fear rushed through Hunter at the mention of the agency, but she tamped down on it. “The Agency is offering half a million to anyone who brings Hero to them alive.”

Villain cocked his head. “Then why haven’t you taken them up on it?”

Hunter swallowed hard. She’d made a mistake, a huge mistake in mentioning the Agency’s price. She could see the enormity of her stumble in the thoughts that swirled behind those calculating eyes.

“Step into the light,” Villain ordered.

“Excuse me?” Hunter replied, her heart jumping into her throat as she tried to sound offended.

Villain just stared into the darkness, and Hunter’s heart swooped. “Nothing,” he said finally, falling away a step, and then another. “Nothing, sorry.” But while his words and feet backtracked, his expression didn’t.

An alarm bell urgently rang in Hunter’s head. This meeting had stretched on too long, and she needed to end it now.

“I’ll take the job,” she said gruffly. “Transfer a hundred k to account number 4982–”

Villain took a sudden step forward, and Hunter cut off, reaching for the strap of her harness to launch her to safety. “Come closer,” Villain commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Hunter’s heart pounded. What should she do? Did she cut her losses and escape? Did she try to continue the job? She needed the money, but…did she need it this badly?

Villain’s expression turned uncharacteristically distressed. “Please…either I’m crazy or…”

That last word hung in the air.

He knows, Hunter thought to herself, gripping her strap for dear life, frozen like a deer in headlights. He knows, he knows, he knows. She’d thought she was strong enough for this, but she wasn’t. She’d been so focused on the money she needed, she hadn’t thought this through, and now she was going to pay for it.

She’d be better off cutting her losses and running. Screw the money, she could find it somewhere else. And yet, looking at the sharp desperation in Villain’s face, her will crumbled.

Barely even aware of anything other than the man in front of her, she hit the button on her remote to deactivate all the traps. She edged closer to Villain, hyper aware that she was leaving the comfort of darkness, for once knowledge was known, it couldn’t be taken back. She was only three feet forward when the harness ran out of line, refusing to allow her even an inch farther. Hunter reached up to hold the buckle of her harness, still unsure of what to do. “What,” she rasped, “do you think you’re going to see?”

Villain’s eyes leapt all around the darkness, trying to seek out Hunter’s form. “The face of someone I very much want to see,” he said. Hunter’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. Her common sense screamed at her to pull the strap, to get out while she still could. Villain chest rose and fell rapidly as he sucked in air. “The face of the woman I love.”

Hunter’s heart took complete control of her body as she reached up to unclip herself from her harness. Taking a deep breath, Hunter stepped into the light, letting her hood fall.

Villain lifted shaking hands and pulled the mask from her face, exposing her features to the light. His mouth went slack, and he sucked in a shuddering breath. “Hero.” The relief on his face was so sweet, it hurt.

Hunter turned her face away. “Don’t call me that.”

Villain’s hands came to her face with such gentle caresses, Hunter peeked to see the equally elated and incredulous smile on his face. “I’m not calling you Hunter.”

“Then I guess we’re at an impasse,” Hunter mumbled, letting her gaze drop to the ground.

Villain’s dress shoes stepped closer to her. “We can work out what to call you later,” he muttered, dipping his head.

The kiss he laid on her lips sent a quake through Hunter. She clung to the lapels of Villain’s blue suit, the only way she was able to stay on her feet.

“I looked for you,” Villain said against her lips, inhaling like he wanted to breathe her into his lungs where she could never run away. “When I heard, I searched for you everywhere.”

To Hunter’s horror, tears pricked at her eyes. Villain pulled back, using his thumbs to brush the water away. “I thought that you were…” He shook his head up at the heavens, unwilling to say it.

“I almost was,” she choked out. “I’ve been trying to get out of the city ever since, but the Agency took everything. My money, my apartment, all my things–”

Villain’s hand came to cradle the back of her neck, pulling her into his chest. “It’s okay, you’re with me now. We’ll get you out.”

“You were right,” she said, her words muffled by the salmon fabric of his tie. “I was on the wrong side.”

Villain’s arms tightened around her. He didn’t say “I told you so” or chide her for not listening in the first place. He didn’t rush her away or immediately start cursing those that put her in this situation. He just held her.

And Hunter, in turn, gripped him like he was her new safety harness.

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

#hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #hero #villain #bounty hunter #angst #writeblr #pen's song-story writing challenge extravaganza #bloodshot #sam tinnesz

84 notes · View notes

haveyouseenthismovie-poll · 5 months

Text

#movies #polls #bloodshot #2020s movies #dave wilson #vin diesel #eiza gonzález #requested #have you seen this movie poll

49 notes · View notes

awksbush · 6 months

Text

JRWITOBER DAY 18: VAMPIRE

LETS GO LESBIANS (AND BISEXUALS‼️‼️💥)

#jrwitober #jrwitober2023 #jrwi #just roll with it #jrwi riptide #jrwi fanart #just roll with it riptide #riptide fanart #the riptide pirates #jay ferin #jrwi jay #anastasia #jrwi anastasia #bloodshot #jrwi shipping

84 notes · View notes

eizagonzalezsk · 29 days

Text

20 notes · View notes

transparentdreamruins · 9 months

Text

"Role"ing, "role"ing, "role"ing 🎥🎬🎭

#sam heughan #in character #well rounded #roles #emulsion #outlander #sas rise of the black swan #to olivia #men in kilts #tennent's lager #love again #theatre #bloodshot

69 notes · View notes

zroqravity · 5 months

Text

Spooky Kid!

Redraw of a mcr magazine scan

Shout out to mcrscans for the scan, may their blog rest in peace

Also, the text on the piece is basically a bloodshot supercut I handpicked from the transcripts so do with that what you will

43 notes · View notes

ungoliantschilde · 1 year

Text

some Pencils by Esad Ribic.

125 notes · View notes

h01vd4l · 7 months

Text

#eiza gonzalez #bloodshot

46 notes · View notes

p-redux · 9 months

Text

Update on Emily White, the fan who Tweeted yesterday that she'd had drinks in Key West "with a certain Scottish actor." Sadly, in researching her, I've come to the conclusion that she is a FAKE, and is simply a fan looking for attention. I'm posting the evidence I discovered for info purposes and truth purposes. I don't want to bash her. Read on for what I discovered.

So, yesterday, I was alerted in Anon Ask about this Tweet from Emily. And in doing a quick perusal of her account, it did seem like she had worked with Sam on Bloodshot, and could have met up with him for drinks, since they both seemed to be in Key West, Florida.👇

And then today she Tweeted this. 👇 But Sam asking an extra from Bloodshot to travel around with him on his Sassenach tour seemed VERY farfetched. So, I decided to dig deeper into Emily's background.

In my reblog of my original post yesterday, I posted I already had my suspicions Emily was a fake. And what led me to start thinking that was the case, was this account. This Twitter account "alerted" her that Sam was in Key West, and they tagged both Emily AND Sam. 👇

If you look at this Jamie Frances account, it was created to ship Emily and Sam!. Read Jamie Frances' Twitter bio. And LOOK at when it was created-- April 2022, the same time Emily created her Twitter account! Folks, this is what is called a person creating a fake account to promote themselves or promote what they want out there. NO ONE knows who Emily White is, let alone that she was an extra in Bloodshot with Sam. Why would some random woman then create an account that is ONLY for fans of Sam AND Emily specifically? And then put out there #findeachother S&E? Come on now. Obvious is as obvious does. 👇

But still, I could chalk it up to being a coincidence. So, I kept looking. Emily Tweeted that she's originally from Scotland and then moved to America 10 years ago. Okay, I guess that could be true. Her Backstage acting bio says she lives in Detroit, Michigan. 👇 Not exactly the acting capital of the US, but okay.

She now has an Instagram account with the same username as her Twitter account, but she also has an old Instagram account with her initials. 👇

And from looking at the old Instagram account, she had a man she was in a relationship with in 2021. Not sure if that's her husband or boyfriend, and of course, they could have broken up. But, she definitely has two kids, a girl, and a boy, and she no longer posts them on her new accounts. But she definitely did a couple of years ago. I whited out their faces since they're minors. 👇

I guess she used to be a brunette and she's definitely a fan girl. Here she is with her daughter going to a convention to meet actor, Stephen Amell. 👇

If you look at her accounts, she posts a lot about Sam and Outlander. Sooooo, it's looking like she met Sam as an extra on the movie Bloodshot and that's IT. 👇

Here are some fandom people calling her out as a FAKE 👇

So, unless I get some CONCRETE proof to the contrary, the evidence shows Emily White is another woman caught up in Samshiness, and is projecting wishful thinking out into the universe. Trying to manifest her Sam fantasies, but nothing more.

As for her recent Tweet about traveling with Sam on his Sassenach tour, I'm thinking she means following him from city to city, and standing in line with other fans to have a bottle signed.

I do feel slightly badly calling her out, but the truth is important. I hope she finds things in her real life to fulfill her.

This is also means that the jury is still out as to whether Sam was traveling alone in Miami and Key West, or with a date, since the "Emily had drinks with Sam in Key West" NEVER HAPPENED.

PS. Obviously I had a free weekend with plenty of time be blog, but tomorrow, I'm back to work, and won't be on much until after work. But for today, I'm here.

I need to go lie down.

#samheughan #sam heughan #emily white #fake #key west #michigan #extra #bloodshot #samshine #samshiness #miami

60 notes · View notes