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meii-jasmine · 3 years ago

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Stardew Valley: Bachelor flowers and headcanons!

Disclaimer: These are just some of my personal headcanons that I like to think about from time to time!

*(More bachelors under the “read more” section!)

Alex

Flower: Sunflower. Sunflowers symbolize adoration, loyalty and longevity.

Cooking skills: Good cook! Knows all the staple home recipes from his grandma.

Height: 6'0"

Around 22-23 years old; second youngest of the bachelors, with Sam being the youngest. When with the bachelors, he seems to be the most childlike as they consider him pretty innocent or naïve for his age. This comes across as quite endearing as the bachelors help him feel more at ease with them and himself.

Worked out not just to prove his worth to his mom, but also to his grandparents. He wants to be strong so he can protect the only family he has left, and this includes the friends he ends up trusting along the way.

Isn't 100% white. Could be part / half-Filipino or half-Mexican, or anything similar. Reflected not only in how his fair porcelain skin tans from sun exposure, but also his tendency to stay close to family even as he grows older. In relation to this, he's bilingual! He may not be the most intelligent bachelor, but he can switch both languages easily. He shares this trait with Sebastian.

The person (farmer) he ends up falling for brings him great comfort. He likely sees his mom in them and doesn't want to mess this up. As a husband/bf/fiancée he is insanely doting and never misses a chance to say he loves them, or thanks them for the joy they share together. This is something he never got a chance to do for his late mum.

Initially he hung out with Haley because that's what he thinks boys should do; hang out with pretty girls and be a "manly man"! Eventually, he finds comfort with her as they seem to share similar youthful vibes. Alex is actually pretty socially awkward and often looks up to Haley and Emily, and he admires how confident they are about themselves. He tries to emulate this but ends up sounding self-absorbed instead.

Elliott

Flower: Red rose. Red roses symbolize love and romance.

Cooking skills: Good cook! Actually learning new recipes through cook books and cooking shows.

Height: 6'2"

Around 28-34; the second eldest of the bachelors, with Harvey being the eldest. When with the bachelors, he loves being the flamboyant dad figure. He could come across as the embarrassing dad, but he really does look out for the well-being of the group.

Knows French. Either he IS French, or he loves learning the “language of love” to add more flair to his writing. Willing to bet the former.

Owns a mermaid tail he wears on occasion. Jas once mistook him for Ariel and he decided to go the extra mile for her. He's even learned how to swim in it, though Harvey had to save him a couple of times from nearly drowning. He eventually resorted to swimming in the river for practice when nobody's around. Because of this, he probably wrote Secret Note 21 after swimming at midnight by the river as a note to himself never to do that again.

Related to above, he LOVES dressing up and roleplaying. He claims it helps him get the mood better for his writing. He especially loves playing the prince, but is actually good at playing any part. Beautiful singing voice too; he took voice and piano lessons as theatre play is his passion.

An extroverted introvert. Because of his flamboyant nature and desire to delight the people around him, he may come across as forward and crowd-loving. In reality, he just loves appreciating the beauty of the world around him and is eager to have a companion who sees the world the same way he does. Leah comes close to this, so as older marriage candidates they bond over their love for the wonders of nature.

Harvey

Flower: Gardenia. The gardenia is a flower that symbolizes purity and gentleness.

Cooking skills: Best cook of the bachelors. Probably took culinary classes at one point!

Height: 6'4"

The oldest of the bachelors, around 35-40. Despite being often shy and soft-spoken compared to most of the group, he does take pride being the eldest. Being a doctor only gives him more authority to watch over the others alongside Elliott; such as advising Alex not to eat too much eggs, or regulating everyone else's diet for a healthier lifestyle.

He initially wanted to be a pilot because of his father. His father used to be a flight instructor for many young aspiring pilots, and in one of his sit-ins, he was convinced that he wanted to be a pilot too!

It never happened. He has bad eyesight and a fear of heights when his dad took him out for a quick ride, despite all the safety protocols taken. He did however become a doctor because of his desire to help people; for a time, he became a doctor in the same workplace as his father before he got assigned to Pelican Town.

Has difficulty keeping up with aerobics in a group, but it's actually helped increase his stamina and strength. When hiking in the mountains, the bachelors would expect him to stay behind to catch his breath, but they're taken by surprise when they find out he has the same stamina as them! Sometimes he even moves faster because of caffeine and the others have to catch up to him... only to find he'd 100% crash in exhaustion when the campsite is finally set up.

The reason he closes up his clinic early is because of how little medical emergencies the town seems to have. Aside from taking care of paperwork for another roughly two hours before and after the clinic closes, he also wants to spend some time on a safe spot outdoors where he can watch the planes go by and reminisce his dreams.

Sebastian

Flower: Lavender. Lavender flowers represent purity, silence, devotion, serenity, grace, and calmness.

Cooking skills: Trying. He's a pro at brewing 3-in-1 coffee though.

Height: 5'7"

Older than he seems to be letting on; he's around 23-25. He may appear young and socially awkward, but his emotional maturity is actually pretty developed. He just doesn't know how to express this healthily as he feels isolated; this changed when he befriended Sam and Abigail though. In the bachelors' group, he seems to be the voice of reason. He only ever speaks when he feels like it, though, and is often very passive.

Bilingual. Maybe even multilingual. Half east Asian, so his dark hair is actually natural. Could be Japanese and could explain why he loves sashimi, as it reminds him of his youth when he and his extended family would have sashimi dinners together. On the other hand, he could also be Korean and secretly loves KDramas and takes fashion/aesthetic advice from KPop.

Scared of horror movies. He grew up watching Disney films as a kid to help cheer himself up and it was Sam and Abigail who introduced him to scary movies later on.

Loves frogs because they were his companions as a child when he got stranded in school because of the strong rain. Because of them he realised that rain wasn't as scary as he thought it was, and he played in the rain with them while waiting for Robin to pick him up. He was soaked and got a cold, but that time spent with frogs was one of the happiest memories he cherishes. As an adult, he loves the rain and he goes outdoors to hang out with frogs. He can sometimes be heard croaking back to them. Only Sam heard him do this and Seb made him swear not to tell anyone, especially Abigail.

Sometimes when he works, he wears non-prescription blue light glasses. His vision has yet to worsen despite his job since he has an eye care routine he follows strictly. This is also why despite not being an outdoors person, he goes out to look at the greenery of the valley. When his hair gets a little longer (covering most of his nape) he wears a tiny ponytail on occasion.

Sam

Flower: Yellow tulip. Yellow tulips represent happiness, cheerfulness, and hope.

Cooking skills: Like Sebastian, non existent. He's a pro at flipping instant pancakes like his skateboard though!

Height: 5'10"

The youngest of the bachelors at around 20-21, just a year or two younger than Alex. He seems to be a little more emotionally mature due to being the eldest son in their household though. No matter what group he's in, he's a true extrovert and his energy is contageous that it drives the mood of the group most of the time.

Highly empathic. He is actually more mature than he's letting on; despite appearing rather naïve. Unlike Alex, he could easily read between the lines; he can tell if someone is hiding their true feelings and knows how to act accordingly, which is one of the reasons why Sebastian found comfort in him as a close friend.

This doesn't mean he's no trouble maker. He LOVES being one; it's one of the things he couldn't seem to get out of his system! Sebastian thinks this is rather charming as he never really got to express himself the way Sam did. However, Sam does seem to know if he's gotten too far and sincerely apologises, if ever. This mostly applies to people he actually cares about.

Got a part time job in JojaMart mostly because of the free soda perk every shift. The rest of the job is boring though, so sometimes he drags Shane in some mischief. Shane used to be vocally annoyed but he has since resigned to his fate as Sam's partner in crime. It actually gets lonely when Sam isn't around to use mops as makeshift guitars.

A huge fan of Dragonball Z, no secrets there. So much that he styled his hair like a super saiyan. He and his little brother Vincent also make time in their schedules to watch it together, as quality time between brothers. They could never achieve the super saiyan body though, so sometimes they ask Alex to flex some time after befriending him. Sometimes the three can be seen pretending to be super saiyans right around Dusty's pen.

Shane

Flower: Cornflower. Cornflowers can mean delicacy and elegance, and in some cases also symbolizes positive hope for the future.

Cooking skills: A pro at cooking instant food and simple dishes to complement your (his) beer (aka "pulutan" in Filipino)

Height: 5'5" or 5'6"

He's younger than Elliott by a year or two but older than the three young bachelors; around 28-33. When with the bachelors, he seems to be the weird or cool uncle depending on his mood.

He got the idea of raising blue chickens from Jas' late parents. They used to raise cornflowers in their garden and gave some to him for good luck in finding his soulmate, as cornflowers were also known as "bachelor buttons". He's always loved chickens, though. So the blue chicken breed is a testament of his undying bond with them.

Surprisingly good at singing; his singing voice is a little husky. When drunk he tends to have voice cracks as he doesn't care much with vocal transitions anymore. Related to this, sometimes he sings lullabies to Jas when she can't sleep.

Taught Sam how to get some food from Joja that isn't in their perks. Turns out it wasn't as difficult and sometimes they eat pizza together at breaktime when Morris isn't looking. Shane often looks at Sam in disgust when he drinks Joja cola so happily, claiming "that sh*t tastes like carbonated dishwater". Sam is shocked Shane knows how dishwater tastes like.

Found a common ground with Alex because of gridball. Alex is an aspiring pro and Shane used to play in the varsity; sometimes he even agrees to coach Alex when they're both free and willing. With video games, he is also a pretty good gamer even without cheats and this helped bridge the connection further with the younger bachelors without him even meaning to. Sam looks up to him for cheat codes and pro gamer moves.

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sjw-publishings · 4 years ago

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Counselling through the Snow

“Ugh, Caleb Benedict where are you?”

Leonard brisk walked impatiently, side by side on the pavement looking for his boyfriend who sent a message saying he would be an hour late due to some last minute coding assignment his teacher asked him to submit.

Its been way over an hour.

He had been patient for a year now, ever since his boyfriend got into that university, they exchanged fewer and fewer messages each month, with most of them being about his school.

And from the most recent messages they shared, it seemed like the university is having a deficit of staff as of late and there are rumours that the new Principal is in favour of shaping more... conservative staff starting next semester after the break.

Whatever that means, who knows. Because truthfully all Leonard cares about is being with his boyfriend who he has barely seen in person all year, despite living in the same town.

If anything, he hoped for a miracle for them to never be separated again. But he figured the thought of it would barely be able to counsel him unless it had happened.

“Ah! Leonard Morgan is that you?”

At the mention of his name, he turned around, expecting his boyfriend, but the baritone rumble that allured him sure spoke otherwise.

And lo and behold was a sight to feast on.

A tall man, clearly over 6ft, strode down towards him. Dressed in a completely dapper blue suit, which framed his broad...yet conservative sized shoulders excellently, like he was sculpted with delicate procedures.

Of course, the unbuttoned top row of buttons from the dress shirt tucked behind his vest definitely drew the eyes of Leonard, who could see the neatly brushed hair follicles over his tanned pecs.

And with the way they are displayed, its almost inviting him to wanna grab them if the man allows it. Not even his lean boyfriend could compare to how handsome this man was.

Yet the man remained plastered with a faint, yet confident smile. Like a confident man whose reassured of himself and his life,

Holding a medium sized turquoise laptop to the side, with a clearly distinguishable high-end watch brand watch which showed he is well-off. A far cry from the casual attire his boyfriend and himself would wear.

Coming nearer, he got a closer look at his facial features.

Squared jaw which framed his well-kempt beard over those luscious lips. Gelled dark brown locks over at the top, stylishly parting to the side with the rest of his hair being short and manageable, unlike Caleb’s messy long mop.

Finally, framing his lenses were dark blue square medium sized spectacles, the Metrosexual look only enhancing those manly brows and entrancing eyes which made Leonard just want to...stare at them forever. At this handsome hunk in his late forties .

“Professor Francis Beaumont, a pleasure to meet you.”

The Professor extended out his left hand from his pocket, snapping Leonard out of his trance as he quickly shook his hand, flushing at his earlier thoughts.

He had a boyfriend, and while he found other guys attractive, he was never this flustered with anyone until this guy, whose faint Parisian roots and aristocratic scent just kept sending rumbles to his core...and his attraction meter to the roof.

Leonard had to check at least.

Glancing down, still in the firm, warm grip of the handshake,a silver glint stuck out from the man’s thick digit, the kind of hands that were warm and fatherly.

Which made sense, as a silver ring was encased over on his left.

It was...almost disappointing to the young college student, but he-had a boyfriend anyway...he shouldn’t be looking at another man like that.

Even if he is incredibly hot.

“My sincere apologies, my wife and I had... important duties to attend to back in campus.”

Although despite the stoic expression he tried to keep on his face, a sheepish grin rose to the professor as well as the rosy tints on his cheeks.

But before Leonard could notice that, the professor released his grip, opting to place his right arm over the young man’s shoulder as he guided him down the path into the park.

“I know I know, the open public isn’t the best place for counselling, but I assure you we won’t be bothered here.”

As they walked down the path, all Leonard heard was that of his voice. Smooth like honey, an American citizen...but with the unique flair of the french.

A warm and caring father, guiding him to a place just the two of them. He never knew how much...how much he wanted this, almost like his frustrations from earlier were nothing compared to being next to this man.

“Who...Who exactly are you?”

“Well you specifically requested me for counselling, so how could I refuse?”

Obviously, he knew it was Professor Francis. He had just told the young man his name...right? No, not just that, he heard of the

Computer science professor for quite a while.

A charismatic hunk that charmed his students from all across the modules he taught, and others from across campus. He was not a part of the University, but from the rumours of this man, he wanted to be a part of it because of this professor.

Was his boyfriend the one who told him about the Professor? It made sense if he was, they always crushed on other guys despite sticking by the others side.

“Yes...I really require counselling...”

The man was always open to help others due to his fatherly instincts. Having young adults at home, he somehow knew exactly what to say to help the students as a counsellor on the side.

That being said, there are rumours that he was a major conservative. Maybe Leonard could have recognised it with the slight and subtle glances he kept giving on the blushing youth, but most students completely brushed over that part anyway with how kind and understanding he was to their problems.

“Indeed...our session will certainly be life changing.”

They eventually came to a stop at an open bench, with no one else in sight other than the two of them. Sitting down, side by side, the fatherly grip held tight onto Leonard’s shoulder.

“Tell me about...your relationship with your boyfriend.”

Cutting to the chase, it kinda startled Leonard that the Professor could tell about his attraction to him, asking him to talk about it as their first session above all things-?

...No, that did not make sense right?

There were numerous text messages exchanged back and forth if he could remember. Talking about his problems freely as the professor guided him understandingly without charge. It had just been over a month too...yet it felt like forever.

Staring at the male, and his warm smile was enough for Leonard to fess up.

“He keeps...refusing to see me.”

Sighing to himself, yet again...his university boyfriend ditched him in favour of his ‘coding projects’ which he suspected to be seeing other men, not outright but from the way they chatted...it gave the impression.

GRIP!

Yet the fatherly assurance from the professor reassured him that everything will be alright. Not necessarily with his intimate relationship with his boyfriend, but to be fair, he had been pretty busy lately. Even if they lived close by, they were busy, but they made the effort to communicate with one another.

“He’s a part of your university and I’m not.”

Leonard spoke, mainly because he wished he had the grades to make it with his boyfriend to the Uni, maybe even campus mates, but growingly...he wished to have an easier way to meet with the Professor, it was difficult for outsiders to get a session with-

GRIP!

Of course sometimes Leonard did not feel like a part of the University, but his counsellor reassured him otherwise. His University boyfriend barely spent time with him due to being of different majors, but he liked what he studied.

“What are you studying again?”

The professor spoke, directing his attention to him once again.

What was he studying? The freshmen definitely preferred something artsy...but as he stared at the warm, fatherly gaze of the other male, he felt it sort of unpractical to pursuit that kind of path.

Like it was not him.

GRIP!

“Computer Science of course!”

“Indeed, you are one of my best students.”

Smirking to himself, sitting up straighter as he gained a few centimetres in height. Puffing out his chest as his ideals shifted almost instantly due to his professor’s praise.

He was a teacher’s Pet after all.

Which is why the professor even spent the time during the holidays to meet him. Exchanging texts to see if everything was alright, like a true father figure indeed.

Not to mention, his professor is quite the looker. Blushing to himself as the soft brushes from hand to hand, yet the confidence from the professor stuck by him as he sat up straighter. He was not a conservative, but it was a lie to say the professor did not influence his outlook in life for quite a bit.

“May I know more about the crush towards your friend?”

Friend? Did he meant...uh, Rancale? His buddy? Yeah he was cute, nothing compared to the professor but cute.

“He always talks about others like he’s so interested in them?”

They only get together for the past few months, and yet, his boy...friend kept talking about others over and over, and not in a ‘I want to be friends’ kind of way. The kind of thing you see from guys who are not together with another-

GRIP!

“Well I mean you aren’t together and it makes sense with your hormones on the loose.”

It made sense, with the way his best friend kept talking about other guys...and girls across campus, he clearly was not interested in him...

Though strangely enough, he felt content.

Honestly, the more he thought about his best friend like that, he felt genuinely uncomfortable despite being...gay, sort of? But when they chatted about potential mates...damn, where those hot.

“May I know more about what you think would impress another guy?”

Aleonar thought briefly, thinking about what his friend would like...before his eyes focused on the Professor once again.

If anything, he was far closer to the professor than that other guy, and he knew what the Professor liked.

“Well certainly a stronger physique...the kind of man who could jog for ages.”

As he spoke, he felt his thighs solidified beneath the skinny jeans he wore. Toning heavily as they struggled to show off their muscular depth below.

Next up were his feet, as they expanded beyond those soles at a powerful stomping size 12s. He definitely aced the tracks since when he was a youth, a star athlete with brains, a fitting combination as anyone would agree.

“Who also kept his upper body in shape...you know, like a real man!”

With that exclamation, his pectorals strained against the tee he wore, jutting out nicely as a lean yet obscure six pack could be seen below if someone took a closer look. He looked good, but felt like the goods were only reserved for bed.

And the rest up to imagination. With his biceps doubling in size, yet straining against his long sleeved shirt, guys and gals could only dream of seeing this teacher’s Pet unclothed, but too bad! Alongside those wide shoulder blades that rivalled his Teacher’s.

If anything, he could’ve sworn they were-

“Matured, around their late forties, but still looking good!”

Of course! His fellow colleague and him hung out a lot. Professor Bene..., Professor Beaumont and him were like two peas in a pod, ever since they were roommates back in college.

With that realisation, Professor Morganez felt proud of towering his over 6ft worth of experience, swinging his stronger arms over to his colleague as best friends through thick and thin.

As such, thick strains of fur layered over his chest, arms, and down below. Testosterone groomed in the older male, the way it ought to as a real man.

And both him and Beaumont were real men for all he knew.

“Mix-race, just like your good ol pal!”

With that remark, his skin darkened two shades into a healthy dark brown. Stretching all over as Professor Martinez smirked at his hispanic heritage, and even though he-like his buddy Beaumont, knew only traces of it as they were raised in American households, their mixed ethnicity definitely helped them stand out!

Especially towards their potential spouses!

“The kind of man who would wingmen the other any day!”

Yes his buddy Beaumont was dashing...but it felt better if they stayed as friends you know. The kind of men that would stay by the others side.

Professor’s a charmer, but it was laughable to think they were an item when they were such good ‘brothers’ after all, not in a literal sense...but very similar in terms of personality.

Though Professor Beaumont must be the most clueless dad next door boomer to think he was 100% straight by only setting him up with only women throughout the years, or he’s doing it intentionally.

But how could Galeonar Martinez refuse offers from his bud?

“That and he ought to dress well always, in and out of work.”

With that remark, Professor Martinez stretched his arms widely, as the fabric went along with his movements.

First off was his top, as it simplified to a plain, but a somewhat high quality navy blue dress shirt. Nothing too fancy like his metrosexual bud, but it hugged his frame quite well. It kept his students’ attention during lessons, but not too much that it became a distraction.

Next up where the remaining traces of fabric over on his chest, as they slid down over to wrists, the left forming a similar branded watch to his bud, and a couple of beads and bands on the right to show his generally relaxed and chill outlook in life.

Down below, his skinny jeans loosened up to large beige dress pants, as they tightened up with cinching on a patterned belt, one that is not made of leather post transformation.

Holding his feet below are neat and polished brown dress shoes with winged tips. As his larger feet settled in typical white socks, ones that rested his aged feet in the ‘casual professionalism’ look he liked to maintain.

“So how are the kids?”

Kids? The Professor stared back at his colleague bud and best friend, who remained silent earlier as he discussed about...something?

It was not about children though...hence the conversation. Did Beaumont still insist he was straight after all this time?

Though for some reason...he kinda wanted to play along.

“They were...great?”

As soon as he said those words, a large goofy grin stretched across his lips as he clutched his head, feeling a massive shift in algorithm as euphoria surged within the computer science professor’s head.

His buttocks clenched hard, as his body jolted up STRAIGHT. Debugging the errors as the exit door narrowed to that of a ‘natural passage’, tightening his shoulders as they became designed to take care of offspring...rather than being dependent on a fellow father.

“How is your fatherhood?”

Lips licking below, his natural hair follicles brushed around his chin and upper lip, forming a tasty chestnut beard for the older male. The kind that was fertilised by a bunch of...juices from the opposite sex.

“Great as a payday raise!”

Dad jokes here, as his hair shortened and styled to a professional quiff. It felt...so good thinking about being a father, wait-he was a father! With offspring as a matter of fact.

He remembered when he used to...find guys hot? But damn, were women hotter. His conservative background certainly supported so, and certainly he was-

“How is...your wife?”

His pouch expanded in size, a powerful size 12 inches as thick wads of testosterone swirled in his powerful sacks. They were experienced in the art of pounding, not liberal arts, but rather ‘the art of masculinity’.

Pumping! Of course, his wife! His chasing days were over years ago, and now fully dedicated to ‘dear ol wifey’. Just thinking about her..., and the steamy sessions in bed, it made him wanna-

GRIP!

“She’s great as always!”

Professor Gale Martinez creamed in his briefs, letting loose any notion of being with another male as his cream trailed upwards, and around his ring finger. Solidifying the married professor that he always was.

Eyes blinking into a dark brown, neat strips of brows wiggling in a satisfied afterglow, as he continued with his casual conversation with his ex college roommate.

“From counsellor to counsellor, the students have been really gay lately.”

“Huh, shame they can’t be gay with their wives.”

“Haha!”

The two of them laughed, still having their boomer sense of humour even after all these years.

Professor Martinez had to be reassigned to a different university after moving into a new town with his wife years ago, it wasn’t easy leaving behind the campus that he taught for over 10 years, even if it became more liberal than to his liking.

But after he stepped foot on the campus grounds, to his surprise, guess who greeted him?

His old colleague Francis!

They haven’t seen each other for years since they parted ways since graduation. They kept in touch, but family time and being across different states made it difficult to spend time with one another as pals.

But now that they’re back together, they’re sure to stick to the other like glue. And hey! Maybe if they did a counselling session together, they could probably set the campus youths straight!

“Remember the O’slogan we used to say when we were younger Gale?”

The married man stepped up, and placed both hands in his pockets.

Of course he remembered, and proudly exclaimed it in the middle of the park.

“Nothing beats making out with your wife!”

#gay to straight #g2s #mental change #personality change #gay #to #straight #lib to cons #racial change #hispanic #teacher #age progression #prep #dads #zoomer to boomer #through #the #metrosexual

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oldguardhc · 4 years ago

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Old Guard hc #170

One time, when they were in South Korea, Joe bought a bunch of acupuncture mats and while Booker was sleeping, placed them all around his bed. After they were all laid out, he slammed Booker’s door open and shouted for Booker to get up! Their cover’s blown!

Without sparing a second, Booker jumped out of bed and it was like time froze when his feet touched the floor. His eyes were blown open, his breath was somewhere behind his stomach and his soul was nowhere to be found, having yeeted itself out of its shell at the same time the first plastic spike dug into his skin.

It eventually came back and when it did, Booker’s knees buckled like a newborn fawn, and he crumbled to the spiky floor with a manly yelp. The tables quickly turned on Joe when Nicky stumbled into him, forcing him to enter the room of doom. He took one step and quickly fell to his knees. Andy was much more obvious and just shoved Nicky inside. He took three steps, he was one step away from the bed, and he too fell.

It took the boys two hours to exit the room. Since it was summer, they couldn’t even pull the duvet off to step on. They couldn’t roll, that would just make pain flair up in other places. Joe and Nicky took off their shirts and Joe wrapped his feet with them since he was the closest to the door.

...Acupuncture mats are banned in all safe houses now.

#the old guard #joe x nicky #sebastien le livre #andromache of scythia #tog #hc

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deuchess · 4 years ago

Note

I loved your answer on the Disney characters ask! Could you do one for the boys?

i’m sorry for taking a while to answer it, i kinda just ignored it for a while lol. I researched Disney boys for a little too long and some of them just didn’t fit anyone, so i’m sorry for a few of the boys missing here. i also want to say like last time that these are mostly only based on personality and actions 👍

Bobby: Aladdin from Aladdin. Bobby was honestly pretty spot on when he compared himself to Aladdin. in the movie, he is portrayed as clever, and ultimately a good-hearted person, like Bobby. both are somewhat brave and seeks to win the affection of many other characters, which demonstrates their insecurities.

both Aladdin and Bobby can be selfish and indignant at times, which is shown through the wishes for Aladdin makes, and the choices Bobby takes. neither of them are above lying and stealing (Bobby probably steals jokes skdjsks), but never with evil intentions, but in order to survive/be accepted. the biggest difference from the norm is that, unlike most younger disney heroes and other male islanders, is that they’re both doers rather than passive characters. (Bobby has a lot of similarities with several characters, but i went with Aladdin here because Bobby thinks they’re alike lol)

words to describe them: clever, good-hearted, adventurous, selfish, romantic, insecure, friendly.

Lucas: Shang from Mulan. Lucas and Shang are often seen as 'pretty boys' due to their dashing good looks and strong physiques. they’re reserved and thoughtful, a more logical and calming influence to others (Mulan and literally any other character in the villa) vivacious and reckless personalities. both are definitely the hottest in their area, and they’re also tough but kind. they both learn things by the end and both have nice smiles :D

words to describe them: resourceful, dutiful, serious, by-the-books, strong, internally caring, intense.

Jakub: Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. both Gaston and Jakub are very outgoing and has a way of making all the ladies desire them. they’re strong-willed and goes after what they want without feeling guilty about it. both are domineering and sometimes seen as cold because they does not stop until they acquire they’re goals, aka, the ~girl~. they both want to control their environment, and has a very gregarious and confident personality.

words to describe them: narcissistic, quick-tempered, calculating, womanizers.

Arjun: Kuzco from The Emperor's New Groove. both Arjun and Kuzco are very self-centered. with Kuzco it’s thinking that everyone should be put below him, because he is "Emperor", and with Arjun it’s because he’s the hottest thing ever. both are initially portrayed as a selfish, cocky, shameless, sarcastic guys, albeit with a sense of flair and “pizazz”. (Arjun could be many characters but this is the one i settled for)

words to describe them: arrogant, selfish, sarcastic, funny, silly, nice on occasion.

Graham: King Triton from The Little Mermaid. okay idk here at all alright... there’s a lot of characters who you can put with Graham, although there aren’t that many that will completely fit him, so we’re going with mermaid man here. they’re both a bit flawed but also caring about the people around them. they both have a bit of a temper, which we don’t totally see with Graham but we know it’s there. if we’re talking looks then they are both big, redheads (Triton previously was one) manly and have a beard. also, Graham loves sea creature and Triton is a sea creature so....

words to describe them: gruff, stubborn, short-tempered, good hearted, brave, caring, harsh.

Carl: Milo from Atlantis: The Lost Empire. i just remember how clumsily forward Milo and that makes me think of Carl. while both of them mean well, they can often cause trouble, like with how Carl accidentally offended Hope. Milo, much like Carl, is very invested in his work, in love with it if you’d like. i see Carl as someone who will trust easily, maybe not when it comes to love, but in general, much like with Milo.

words to describe them: mild-mannered, kind, smart, friendly, socially awkward, determined, eager, sympathetic.

thank you for the ask!

#litg #litg s2 #litg bobby #litg lucas #litg jakub #litg arjun #litg graham #bubblelaurano #litg carl #disney #asks #stop it seliné

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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Enola Holmes: A Not So Elementary Adaptation

It's cliché and a bit unfair to say that the book was better than the film, but I'm afraid that's precisely where I need to start. Nancy Springer's Enola Holmes: The Case of the Missing Marquess is leagues better than Netflix's adaptation of it. They did her work dirty and to say that I'm shocked at the accolades other reviewers are heaping on the film is an understatement. Before I dive into any critiques though, it's worth acknowledging that not every minute of the two hour film was painful to get through. So what worked in Enola Holmes?

The film is carried by the talent of its cast, Millie Bobby Brown being the obvious heavy-hitter. She helps breathe life into a pretty terrible script and it's only a shame her talent is wasted on such a subpar character.

The idea to have Enola continually break the fourth wall, though edging into the realm of Dora the Explorer at times—"Do you have any ideas?"— was nevertheless a fun way to keep the audience looped into her thought process. Young viewers in particular might enjoy it as a way to make them feel like a part of the action and older viewers will note the Fleabag influence.

The cinematography is, perhaps, where most of my praise lies. The rapid cuts between past and present, rewinding as Enola thinks back to some pertinent detail, visualizing the cyphers with close ups on the letter tiles—all of it gave the film an upbeat, entertaining flair that almost made up for how bloated and meandering the plot was.

We got an equally upbeat soundtrack that helped to sell the action.

The overall experience was... fine. In the way a cobbled together, candy-coated, meant to be seen on a Friday night but we watched it Wednesday and then promptly forgot about it film is fine. I doubt Enola Holmes will be winning any awards, but it was a decently entertaining romp and really, does a Netflix film need to be anything more? If Enola was her own thing made entirely by Netflix's hands I wouldn't be writing this review. As it stands though, Enola is both an adaptation and the latest addition to one of the world’s most popular franchises. That's where the film fails: not as a fun diversion to take your mind off Covid-19, but as an adaptation of Springer's work and as a Sherlock Holmes story.

In short, Enola Holmes, though pretty to look at and entertaining in a predictable manner, still fails in five crucial areas:

1. Mycroft is Now a Mustache-Twirling Villain and Sherlock is No Longer Sherlock Holmes

This aspect is the least egregious because admittedly the film didn't pull this version of Mycroft out of thin air. As the head of the household he is indeed Enola's primary antagonist (outside of some kidnappers) and though he insists that he's doing all this for Enola's own good, he does get downright cruel at times:

He rolled his eyes. “Just like her mother,” he declared to the ceiling, and then he fixed upon me a stare so martyred, so condescending, that I froze rigid. In tones of sweetest reason he told me, “Enola, legally I hold complete charge over both your mother and you. I can, if I wish, lock you in your room until you become sensible, or take whatever other measures are necessary in order to achieve that desired result... You will do as I say" (Springer 69).

Mycroft's part is clear. He's the white, rich, powerful, able-bodied man who benefits from society's structure and thus would never think to change it. He does legally have charge over both Enola and Eudoria. He can do whatever he pleases to make them "sensible"... and that right there is the horror of it. Mycroft is a law-abiding man whose antagonism stems from doing precisely what he's allowed to do in a broken world. There are certainly elements of this in the Netflix adaptation, but that antagonism becomes so exaggerated that it's nearly laughable. Enola's governess (appointed by Mycroft) slaps her across the face the moment she speaks up. Mycroft screams at her in a carriage until she's cowering against the window. He takes her and throws her into a boarding school where everything is bleak and all the women dutifully follow instructions like hypnotized dolls. Enola Holmes ensures that we've lost all of Springer's nuance, notably the criticism of otherwise decent people who fall into the trap of doing the "right" (read: expected) thing. Despite her desire for freedom, in the novel Enola quickly realizes that she is not immune to society's standards:

"I thought he was younger.” Much younger, in his curled tresses and storybook suit. Twelve! Why, the boy should be wearing a sturdy woollen jacket and knickers, an Eton collar with a tie, and a decent manly haircut—

Thoughts, I realised, all too similar to those of my brother Sherlock upon meeting me (113-14).

She is precisely like her brothers, judging a boy for not looking and acting enough like a man just as they judged her for not looking and acting enough like a lady. The difference is that Enola has chaffed enough against those expectations to realize when she's falling prey to them, but the sympathetic link to her brothers remains. In the film, however, the conflict is no longer driven by fallible people doing what they think is best. Rather, it's made clear (in no uncertain terms) that these are just objectively bad people. Only villains hit someone like that. Only villains will scream at the top of their lungs until a young girl cries. Only villains roll their eyes at women's rights (a subplot that never existed in the novel). Springer writes Mycroft as a person, Netflix writes him as a cartoon, and the result is the loss of a nuanced message about what it means to enact change in a complicated world.

Which leaves us with Sherlock. Note that in the above passage he is the one who casts harsh judgement on Enola's outfit. Originally Mycroft took an interest in making Enola "sensible" and Sherlock— in true Holmes fashion—straddles a fine line between comfort and insult:

"Mycroft,” Sherlock intervened, “the girl's head, you'll observe, is rather small in proportion to her remarkably tall body. Let her alone. There is no use confusing and upsetting her when you'll find out for yourself soon enough'" (38).

***

"Could mean that she left impulsively and in haste, or it could reflect the innate untidiness of a woman's mind,” interrupted Sherlock. “Of what use is reason when it comes to the dealings of a woman, and very likely one in her dotage?" (43).

A large part of Enola's drive stems from proving to Sherlock, the world, and even herself that a small head does not mean lack of intelligence. His insults, couched in a misguided attempt to sooth, is what makes Sherlock a complex character and his broader sexism is what makes him a flawed character, not Superman in a tweed suit. Yet in the film Mycroft becomes the villain and Sherlock is his good brother foil. Rather than needing to acknowledge that Enola has a knack for deduction by reading the excellent questions she's asked about the case—because why give your characters any development?—he already adores and has complete faith in her, laughing that he too likes to draw caricatures to think. By the tree Sherlock remanences fondly about Enola's childhood where she demonstrated appropriately quirky preferences for a genius, things like not wearing trousers and keeping a pinecone for a pet. They have a clear connection that Mycroft could never understand, one based both in deduction and, it seems, being a halfway decent human being. We are told that Enola has Sherlock's wits, but poor Mycroft lucked out, despite the fact that up until this point the film has done nothing to demonstrate this supposed intelligence. (To say nothing of how canonically Mycroft's intellect rivals his brother's.) Enola falls to her knees and begs for Sherlock's help, saying that "For [Mycroft] I'm a nuisance, to you—" implying that they have a deep bond despite not having seen one another since Enola was a toddler. Indeed, at one point Enola challenges Lestrade to a Sherlock quiz filled with information presumably not found in the newspaper clippings she's saved of him, which begs the question of how she knows her brother so well when she hasn't seen him in a decade and he, in turn, walked right by her with no recognition. Truthfully, Lestrade should know Sherlock better. Through all this the sibling bond is used as a heavy-handed insistence that Enola is Sherlock's protégé, him leaving her with the advice that "Those kinds of mysteries are always the best to unpick” and straight up asking at one point if she’s solved the case. The plot has Enola gearing up to outwit her genius brother, which did not happen in the novel and is precisely why I loved it. Enola isn't out to be a master of deduction in her teens, she's a finder of lost people who uses a similar, but ultimately unique set of skills. She does things Sherlock can't because she is isn't Sherlock. They're not in competition, they're peers, yet the film fails to understand that, using Sherlock's good brother bonding to emphasize Enola's place as his protégé turned superior. He exists, peppered throughout the film, so that she can surpass him in the end.

You know what happens in the novel? Sherlock walks away from her, dismissive, and that's that.

That's also Sherlock Holmes. I won't bore you with complaints about Cavill being too handsome and Claflin being too thin for their respective parts, but I will draw the line at complete character assassination. Part of Sherlock's charm is that he's far more compassionate than he first appears, but that doesn't mean he would, at the drop of a telegram, become a doting older brother to a sister of all things. Despite the absurdity of the Doyle Estate's lawsuit against Netflix for making Sherlock an emotional man who respects women... they're right that this isn't their character. Oh, Sherlock is emotive, but it's in the form of excited exclamations over clues, or the occasional warm word towards Watson—someone he has known and lived with for many years. Sherlock respects women, though it's through those societal expectations. He'll offer them a seat, an ear, a handkerchief if they need one, and always the promise of help, but he then dismisses them with, "The fairer sex is your department, Watson." Springer successfully wrote Sherlock Holmes with a little sister, a man who will bark out a laugh at her caricature but still leave her to Mycroft's whims because he has his own life to tend to. This is a man who insists that the mind of a woman is inscrutable and thus must grapple with his shock at Enola's ability to cover the "salient points" of the case (58). Cavill's Sherlock is no Sherlock at all and though there's nothing wrong with updating a character for a modern audience (see: Elementary), I do question why Netflix strayed so far from Springer's work. The novel is, after all, their blueprint. She already managed the difficult task of writing an in-character Sherlock Holmes who remains approachable to both a modern audience and Enola herself, yet for some reason Netflix tossed that work aside.

2. Enola is "Special,” Not At All Like Other Girls

Allow me to paint you a picture. Enola Holmes is an empathetic, fourteen-year-old girl who, while bright, does not possess an intelligence worthy of note. No one is gasping as she deduces seemingly impossible things from the age of four, or admiring her knowledge of some obscure, appropriately impressive topic. Rather, Enola is a fairly normal girl with an abnormal upbringing, characterized by her patience and willingness to work. Deciphering the many hiding places where her mother stashed cash takes her weeks, requiring that Enola work through the night in secrecy while maintaining appearances during the day. She manages to hatch a plan of escape that demonstrates the thought she's put into it without testing the reader's suspension of disbelief. More than that, she uses the feminine tools at her disposal to give herself an edge: hiding her face behind a widow's veil and storing luggage in the bustle of her dress. Upon achieving freedom, her understanding of another lonely boy leads her to try and help him, resulting in a dangerous kidnapping wherein Enola acts as most fourteen-year-olds would, scared out of her mind with a few moments of bravery born of pure survival instinct. She and Tewksbury escape together, as friends, before Enola sets out on becoming the first scientific perditorian, a finder of lost people.

Sadly, this new Enola shares little resemblance with her novel counterpart. What Netflix seemingly fails to understand is that giving a character flaws makes them relatable and that someone who looks more like us is someone we can connect with. This Enola, simply put, is extraordinary. She's read all the books in the library, knows science, tennis, painting, archery, and a deadly form of Jujitsu (more on that below). In the novel Enola bemoans that she was never particularly good at cyphers and now must improve if she has any hope of reading what her mother left her. In the film she simply knows the answers, near instantaneously. Enola masters her travels, her disguises, and her deductions, all with barely a hitch. Though Enola doesn't have impressive detective skills yet, her memory is apparently photographic, allowing her to look back on a single glance into a room, years ago, and untangle precisely what her mother was planning. It's a BBC Sherlock-esque form of 'deduction' wherein there's no real thought involved, just an innate ability to recall a newspaper across the room with perfect clarity. The one thing Enola can't do well is ride a bike which, considering that in the novel she quite enjoys the activity, feels like a tacked on "flaw" that the film never has to have her grapple with.

More than simply expanding upon her skillset—because let’s be real, it’s not like Sherlock himself doesn’t have an impressive list of accomplishments. Even if Enola’s feelings of inadequacy are part of the point Springer was working to make—the film changes the core of her personality. I cannot stress enough that Enola is a sheltered fourteen-year-old who is devastated by the disappearance of her mother and terrified by the new world she's entered. That fear, uncertainty, and the numerous mistakes that come out of it is what allowed me to connect with Enola and go, "Yeah. I can see myself in her." Meanwhile, this new Enola is overwhelmingly confident, to the point where I felt like I was watching a child's fantasy of a strong woman rather than one who actually demonstrates strength by overcoming challenges. For example, contrast her meeting with Sherlock and Mycroft on the train platform with what we got in the film:

"And to my annoyance, I found myself trembling as I hopped off my bicycle. A strip of lace from my pantalets, confounded flimsy things, caught on the chain, tore loose, and dangled over my left boot.

Trying to tuck it up, I dropped my shawl.

This would not do. Taking a deep breath, leaving my shawl on my bicycle and my bicycle leaning against the station wall, I straightened and approached the two Londoners, not quite succeeding in holding my head high" (31-32).

***

"Well, if they did not desire the pleasure of my conversation, it was a good thing, as I stood mute and stupid... 'I don't know where she's gone,' I said, and to my own surprise—for I had not wept until that moment—I burst into tears" (34).

I'd ask where this frightened, fumbling Enola has gone, but it's clear that she never existed in the script to begin with. The film is chock-full of her being, to be frank, a badass. She gleefully beats up the bad guys in perfect form, no, "I froze, cowering, like a rabbit in a thicket" (164). This Enola always gets the last word in and never falters in her confident demeanor, no, "I wish I could say I swept with cold dignity out of the room, but the truth is, I tripped over my skirt and stumbled up the stairs" (70). Enola is the one, special girl in an entire school who can see how rigid and horrible these social expectations are, straining against them while all her lesser peers roll their eyes. That's how she's characterized: as "special," right from the get-go, and that eliminates any growth she might have experienced over the course of the film. More than that, it feels like a slap in the face to Springer's otherwise likeable, well-rounded character.

3. A Focus on Hollywood Action and Those Strong Female Characters

It never fails to amaze me how often Sherlock Holmes adaptations fail to remember that he is, at his core, an intellectual. Sure, there's the occasional story where Sherlock puts his boxing or singlestick skills to good use, and he did survive his encounter with Moriarty thanks to his own martial arts, but these moments are rarities across the canon. Pick up any Sherlock Holmes story, open to a random page, and you will find him sitting fireside to mule over a case, donning a disguise to observe the suspects, or combing through his many papers to find that one, necessary scrap of information. Sherlock Holmes is about deduction, a series of observations and conclusions based on logic. He's not an action hero. Nor is Enola, yet Netflix seems to be under the impression that no audience can survive a two hour film without something exploding.

I'd like to present a concise list of things that happened in the film that were, in my opinion, unnecessary:

Enola and Tewksbury throw themselves out of a moving train to miraculously land unharmed on the grass below.

Enola uses the science knowledge her mother gave her to ignite a whole room of gunpowder and explosives, resulting in a spectacle that somehow doesn't kill her pursuer.

Enola engages in a long shootout with her attacker, Tewksbury takes a shot straight to the chest, but survives because of a breastplate he only had a few seconds to put on and hide beneath his shirt. Then Enola succeeds in killing Burn Gorman's slimy character.

Enola beats up her attackers many, many times.

This right here is the worst change to her character. Enola is, plainly put, a "strong woman." Literally. She was trained from a young age to kick ass and now that's precisely what she'll do. Gone is the unprepared but brave girl who heads out onto the dangerous London streets in the hope of helping her mother and a young boy. What does this Enola have to fear? There's only one martial arts move she hasn't mastered yet and, don't worry, she gets it by the end of the film. Enola suffers from the Hollywood belief that strong women are defined solely as physically capable women and though there's nothing wrong with that on the surface, the archetype has become so prevalent that any deviation is seen as too weak—too princess-y—to be considered feminist. If you're not kicking ass and taking names then you can only be passive, right? Stuck in a tower somewhere and awaiting your prince. But what about me? I have no ability to flip someone over my shoulder and throw them into a wall. What about pacifists? What about the disabled? By continually claiming that this is what a "strong" woman looks like you eliminate a huge number of women from this pool. The women we are meant to uphold in this film—Enola, her Mother, and her Mother's friend from the teahouse—are all fighters of the physical variety, whereas the bad women like Mrs. Harris and her pupils are too cultured for self-defense. They're too feminine to be feminist. But feminism isn't about your ability to throw a punch. Enola's success now derives from being the most talented and the most violent in the room, rather than the most determined, smart, and empathetic. She threatens people and lunges at them, reminding others that she's perfectly capable of tying up a guy is she so chooses because "I know Jujitsu." Enola possesses a power that is just as fantastical as kissing a frog into a prince. In sixteen short years she has achieved what no real life woman ever will: the ability to go wherever she pleases and do whatever she wants without the threat of violence. Because Enola is the violence. While her attacker is attempting to drown her with somewhat horrific realism, Enola takes the time to wink at the audience before rearing back and bloodying his nose. After all, why would you think she was in any danger? Masters of Jujitsu with an uncanny ability to dodge bullets don't have anything to fear... unlike every woman watching this film.

It's certainly some kind of wish fulfillment, a fantasy to indulge in, but I personally preferred the original Enola who never had any Hollywood skills at her disposal yet still managed to come out on top. That's a character I can see myself in and want to see myself in given that the concept of non-violent strength is continually pushed to the wayside. Not to mention... that's a Sherlock Holmes story. Coming out on top through intellect and bravery alone is the entire point of the genre, so why Netflix felt the need to turn Enola into an action hero is beyond me.

4. Aging Up the Protagonists (and Giving Them an Eye-Rolling Romance)

The choice to age up our heroes is, arguably, the worst decision here. In the original novel Enola has just turned fourteen and Tewksbury is a child, twelve-years-old, though he looks even younger. It's a story for a younger audience staring appropriately young heroes, with the protagonists' status as children crucial to one of the overarching themes of the story: what does it really mean to strike out on your own and when are you ready for it? Adding two years to Enola's age is something I'm perfectly fine with. After all, the difference between fourteen and sixteen isn't that great and Brown herself is sixteen until February of 2021, so why not aim for realism and make her character the same? That's all reasonable and this is, indeed, an adaptation. No need to adhere to every detail of the text. What puzzles me though is why in the world they would take a terrified, sassy, compassionate twelve-year-old and turn him into a bumbling seventeen-year-old instead?

Ah yes. The romance.

In the same way that I fail to understand the assumption that a film needs over-the-top action to be entertaining, I likewise fail to understand the assumption that it needs a romance—and a heterosexual one to boot. There's something incredibly discomforting in watching a film that so loudly proclaim itself as feminist, yet it takes the strong friendship between two children and turns it into an incredibly awkward, hetero True Love story. Remember when Enola loudly proclaims that she doesn't want a husband? The film didn't, because an hour later she's stroking her hand over Tewksbury's while twirling her hair. Which isn't to say that women can't fall in love, or change their minds, just that it's disheartening to see a supposedly feminist film so completely fall into one of the biggest expectations for women, even today. Forget Enola running up to men and paying them for their clothes as an expression of freedom, is anyone going to acknowledge that narratively she’s still stuck living the life the men around her want? Find yourself a husband, Enola. The heavy implication is she did, just with Jujitsu rather than embroidery. Different method, same message, and that’s incredibly frustrating when this didn’t exist in the original story. “It's about freedom!” the film insists. So why didn't you give Enola the freedom to have a platonic adventure?

It's not even a good romance. Rather painful, really. When Tewksbury, after meeting her just once before, passionately says "I don't want to leave you, Enola" because her company is apparently more important than him staying alive, I literally laughed out loud. It's ridiculous and it's ridiculously precisely because it was shoe-horned into a story that didn't need it. More than simply saddling Enola with a bland love interest though, this leads to a number of unfortunate changes in the story's plot, both unnecessary additions and disappointing exclusions. Enola no longer meets Tewksbury after they've both been kidnapped (him for ransom and her for snooping into his case), but rather watches him cut himself out of a carpetbag on the train. I hope I don't have to explain which of these scenarios is more likely and, thus, more satisfying. Meeting Tewksbury on the train means that Enola gets to have a nighttime chat with him about precisely why he ran away. Thus, when she goes to his estate she no longer needs to deduce his hiding spot based on her own desires to have a place of her own, she just needs to recall that a very big branch nearly fell on him and behold, there that branch is. (The fact that the branch is a would-be murder weapon makes its convenient placement all the more eye-rolling.) Rather than involving herself in the case out of empathy for the family, Enola loudly proclaims that she wants nothing to do with Tewksbury and only reluctantly gets involved when it's clear his life is on the line. And that right there is another issue. In the novel there is no murderous plot in an attempt to keep reform bills from passing. Tewksbury is a child who, like Enola, ran away and quickly discovers that life with an overbearing mother isn't so bad when you've experienced London's dangerous streets. That's the emotional blow: Enola has no mother to go home to anymore and must press out onto those streets whether she's ready for it or not.

Perhaps the only redeeming change is giving Tewksbury an interest in flowers instead of ships. Regardless of how overly simplistic the feminist message is, it is a nice touch to give the guy a traditionally feminine hobby while Enola sharpens her knife. The fact that Enola learned that from her mother and Tewksbury learned botany from his father feels like a nudge at a far better film than Enola Holmes managed to be. For every shining moment of insight—the constraints of gendered hobbies, a black working class woman informing Sherlock that he can never understand what it means to lack power—the film gives us twenty minutes worth of frustrating stupidity. Such as how Enola doesn't seem to conceive of escaping from boarding school until Tewksbury appears to rescue her. She then proceeds to get carried around in a basket for a few minutes before going out the window... which she could have done on her own at any point, locked doors or no. But it seems that narrative consistency isn't worth more than Enola (somehow) leaving a caricature of Mrs. Harris and Mycroft behind. The film is clearly trying to promote a "Rah, rah, go, women, go!" message, but fails to understand that having Enola find a way out of the school herself would be more emotionally fulfilling than having her send a generic 'You're mean' message after the two men in her life—Sherlock and Tewksbury—remind her that she can, in fact, take action.

Which brings me to my biggest criticism and what I would argue is the film's greatest flaw. Reviewers and fans alike are hailing Enola Holmes as a feminist masterpiece and yes, to a certain extent it is. Feminist, that is, not a masterpiece. (5) But it's a hollow feminism. A fantasy feminism. A simple, exaggerated feminism that came out of a Feminism 101 PowerPoint. To quote Sherlock, let's review the salient points:

A woman cannot be the star of her own film without having a male love interest, even if this goes against everything the original novel stood for.

A feminist woman cannot also be selfish. Instead she must have a selfless drive to change the world with bombs.

The best kind of women are those who reject femininity as much as they can. They will wear boy's clothes whenever possible and snub their nose at something as useless as embroidery. Any woman who enjoys such skills or desires to become lady-like just hasn't realized the sort of prison she's in yet.

The best women also embody other masculine traits, like being able to take down men twice their size. Passive women will titter behind their hands. Active women will kick you in the balls. If you really want to be a strong woman, learn how to throw a decent punch.

Women are, above all, superior to men.

Yes, yes, I joke about it just as much as the next woman, but seeing it played fairly straight was a bit of an uncomfortable experience, even more-so during a gender revolution where stories like this leave trans, nonbinary, and genderqueer viewers out of the ideological loop. Enola goes on and on about what a "useless boy" Tewksbury is (though of course she must still be attracted to him) and her mother's teachings are filled with lessons about not listening to men. As established, Mycroft—and Lestrade—are the simplistically evil men Enola must circumvent, whereas Sherlock exists for her to gain victory over: "How did your sister get there first?" Enola supposedly has a strength that Tewksbury lacks— he's just "foolish"—and she shouts out such cringe-worthy lines as, "You're a man when I tell you you're a man!"

I get the message, I really do. As a teenager I probably would have loved it, but now I have to ask: aren't we past the image of men-hating feminists? Granted, the film never goes quite that far, but it gets close. We’ve got one woman who is ready to start blowing things up to achieve equality and another who revels in looking down on the men in her life. That’s been the framing for years, that feminists are cruel, dangerous people and Tewksbury making heart-eyes at Enola doesn’t instantly fix the echoes of that. There's a certain amount of justification for both characterizations—we have reached points in history where peaceful protests are no longer enough and Tewksbury is indeed a fool at times—but that nuance is entirely lost among the film's overall message of "Women rule, men drool." It feels like there’s a smart film hidden somewhere between the grandmother murdering to keep the status quo and Enola’s mother bombing for change, that balance existing in Enola herself who does the most for women by protecting Tewkesbury... but Enola Holmes is too busy juggling all the different films it wants to be to really hit on that message. It certainly doesn’t have time to say anything worthwhile about the fight it’s using as a backdrop. Enola gasps that "Mycroft is right. You are dangerous" when she finds her mother's bombs, but does she ever grapple with whether she supports violence on a large scale in the name of creating a better world? Does she work through this sudden revelation that she agrees with Mycroft about something crucial? Of course not. Enola just hugs her mom, asks Sherlock not to go after her, and the film leaves it at that.

The takeaway is less one of empowerment and more, ironically, of restriction. You can fight, but only via bombs and punches. It's okay to be a woman, provided you don't like too many feminine things. You can save the day, so long as there's a man at your side poised to marry you in the future. I felt like I was watching a pre-2000s script where "equality" means embracing the idea that you're "not like other girls" so that men will finally take you seriously. Because then you don't really feel like a woman to them anymore, do you? You're a martial arts loving, trouser-wearing, loud and brilliant individual who just happens to have long hair. You’re unique and, therefore, worthy of attention, unlike all those other girls.

That's some women's experiences, but far from all, and crucially I don't think this is the woman that Springer wrote in her novel.

The Case of the Missing Marquess is a feminist book. It gives us a flawed, brave, intelligent woman who sets out to help people and achieves just that, mostly through her own strength, but also with some help from the young boy she befriends. Her brothers are privileged, misguided men who she nevertheless cares for deeply and her mother finally puts herself first, leaving Enola to go and live with the Romani people. Everyone in Springer's book feels human, the women especially. Enola gets to tremble her way through scary decisions while still remaining brave. Her mother gets to be selfish while still remaining loving. They're far more than just women blessed with extraordinary talents who will take what they want by force. Springer's women? They don't have that Hollywood glamour. They're pretty ordinary, actually, despite the surface quirks. They’re like us and thus they must make use of what tools they have in order to change their own situations as well as the world. The fact that they still succeed feels very feminist to me, far more-so than granting your character the ability to flip a man into the ground and calling it a day.

Know that I watched Enola Holmes with a friend over Netflix Party and the repeated comment from us both was, "I'd rather be watching The Great Mouse Detective." Enola Holmes is by no means a horrible film. It has beauty, comedy, and a whole lot of heart, but it could have been leagues better given its source material and the talent of its cast. It’s a film that tries to do too much without having a firm grasp of its own message and, as a result, becomes a film mostly about missed potential. Which leads me right back to where I began: The book is better. Go read the book.

Images

Enola Holmes

Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Enola and her Mother Doing Archery

Enola and her Mother Fighting

Tewkesbury and Enola

#Sherlock Holmes #Enola Holmes #mymetas

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pixelatedrose · 5 years ago

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Brilliance Part One

Brilliance Of a Dying Star

Part 1 | Next Part

Pairings: Roceit, background Intruality, eventual background Analogical

Word Count: 2,577

Warnings: uncensored swearing, break in, knife mention, panicking, if there’s anything I missed please please tell me, and if there’s anything you would like me to tag, don’t hesitate to ask!

Summary:

Roman Prince lives in a world where the population is split between super powered people and normal people. These super powers were soon named Flaire. And even though he desperately wished he had a Flaire of his own, Roman lives life working in a cat cafe alongside his coworkers, a few of which have Flaires. His life is fairly normal and tragically mundane until a local superhero crashes into his apartment.

Chapter 1

Roman Prince walked along the side of the street in the brilliant red and purple light of the quickly dying sun. His guitar slung over his shoulder and the people in the streets dwindling. His yellow converse he had drawn leaves and flowers on, now starting fade. A particular scuff mark on the toe of the right foot encased with a fond memory.

Above him, a young girl with wings for arms flew scarily close to his head. “S-Sorry!!!” She yelled behind her, her flight wobbly.

Roman turned and called back, a smile on his face. “It’s fine!! Keep up the good work, Auri!!” He kept walking before he heard a crash and a rustle of leaves a ways behind him, followed by Auri's yelp. He smiled at the ground and shook his head.

He walked on as a boy with four sets of eyes passed him by. He walked on when a person made entirely out of rocks sat watering his plants. He walked on when a girl with hooves and spiraling horns sat playing hop-scotch with her little friends.

He only paused when he reached the door to the small, beat up apartment building.

“Home sweet home!” Roman smiled, opening the pale and faded green door. He walked around to the stairs, shooting finger guns to the man at the front desk. Roman climbed the steps to the third and top floor, trying not to internally complain about the elevator being broken. Only two rooms on this floor, roman turned to the one on the left and put his key into the lock.

He greeted his house with a bright smile, knowing no one was there to return it. “Hello, house…” He whispered, throwing his keys into the bowl near the door. He pulled off his jacket and slung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs as he made his way to the solemn couch in the room, flopping down on it over the arm, letting his feet dangle off the edge. He removed his earbuds from his pocket and took out his phone, selecting spotify as he plugged in the buds.

Pressing play on his playlist, Roman sat and took in the last of the day.

~~•~~

The world where Roman lived was an exciting one. Or at least it had been. Things had much lost their glamour after the first age of powers showing up.

In this world, the population was at a fairly equal split between people with Flaires and people without Flaires. No one quite knew who first started calling the powers popping up ‘Flaire’ but it was clear why. All these new people surely had much flair, so the world thought it was clever to start calling the powers Flaire.

Flaires worked and presented themselves in many different fashions. A few of the kids in Roman’s neighborhood had physical Flaires, like Auri. Roman knew of more that had Flaires that let them shoot lightning from their hands or could bend light with their hands.

Roman though? He didn’t have a Flaire. He was okay with that, but it did make him upset from time to time. As a kid, he’d always wanted to be a hero. He wanted to help and save people so badly it almost crushed him when he found out he didn’t have a Flaire. But he managed. He was happy. He liked where he worked, he'd come to terms with his financial situation, and he was alive. He was alive and alive was good.

~~•~~

It had been a few minutes and Roman was starting to drift off into sleep when he heard something shatter from his bedroom. He tore off his earbuds and bolted upright, his heart pounding.

He listened closely as he heard someone curse from the room, the door only barely cracked open, so small you couldn’t see in.

Roman quietly got off his couch and moved into the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the counter and swiftly slunk behind the cracked door. From outside, he could hear something else- something big- moving around. He tried to ignore it and crept up behind the door, holding his breath and calming his heart, gripping the handle of the knife till his knuckles turned white, he threw open the door and swung wildly.

“WHO ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU HERE?!” Roman shouted, his voice cracking slightly. So much for a manly approach to this… he thought with fear latching onto his heart.

But after seeing the intruder, he had to reevaluate everything.

The intruder was dressed in an elaborate costume, a black and yellow hood thrown up over their head and a yellow scarf wrapped around their neck and obscuring the lower half of their face. They wore a loose yellow shirt that tucked into their black gloves, over the shirt they wore a baggy, sleeveless black top that tucked into their pants. In fact, everything about the outfit seemed loose and baggy, including the black pants they wore which tucked into their knee high black boots. They almost looked like some sort of fantasy assassin.

The intruder was on the ground, ducked behind Roman’s bed. When Roman had barged in loudly yelling, they bolted upright and grabbed Roman’s wrist, twisting it and forcing him to drop the knife. They put a hand over Roman’s mouth before he could scream and pushed him hard against the wall, still holding his wrist.

The something big moved again outside, it sounded almost mechanical. The intruder slowly sunk to the ground, forcing roman down with them. As they shrunk, a grey sheet seemed to materialize over them. Roan could see through it though, the way you can see through normal cloth from one side, but not be seen from the other.

If Roman’s mouth had been free, he was sure he would have shrieked when a bright shining light, reminiscent of a large eye, peered in through his broken and tattered blinds.

The intruder moved in closer, pressing up against Roman, making them smaller. It seemed they were like that for forever, the tension so thick you could spread it on bread and eat it.

Finally, finally, the thing passed and the two listened soundlessly to the thing retreating. And finally, the intruder got up, the grey sheet vanishing.

Roman stayed on the ground, in shock. He silently watched as the intruder peered out the broken window before sighing and starting to climb back out.

“W-wait!!” Roman shouted, finally getting a hold on himself. “You can’t just leave!!”

The intruder stopped and turned, their golden-amber eyes not quite matching one another, the cold venom string out at Roman. “Yes.” They said, their voice slightly husky and rough. “I can.” And without a warning, they leaped back out the window.

Roman rushed to try and catch them, but found himself watching as the intruder ran on the air as if it was as solid as the ground below them.

And in a moment that only someone that lived in Newflower City could experience, Roman huffed to himself. “That fabulous bastard broke my window!!”

~~•~~

Roman woke up shivering. He had placed cardboard sheets over the broken frame and taped it, but that wasn’t going to help much with the cold. He sighed and rolled out of bed, thinking of the obvious hero that had crashed into his apartment the night before. I hope they caught whoever they were trying to fight...And I hope no one else was hurt by that thing… Roman thought as he got ready for the day. He shook off any anxiety he had in his heart and glanced over at the clock before panicking. He was going to be late for work.

Roman rushed out the door, and started running. He only just caught the bus when he texted his boss and coworker.

Hey, Vee, I’m running a bit late today. Tell Logan to save me a muffin or something for me, will ya?

Roman let out a puff of air before remembering something.

Oh yeah, I have one hell of a story for you later, don’t let me forget.

A few minutes passed before his phone buzzed again.

Emo Nightmare: Ight, I’ll make sure specs saves you something. And what could possibly happen between last night and now that merits ‘one hell of a story’?

Roman closed the chat with his friend and hyped himself up for the story he was going to be able to tell.

He walked in the door of the Catfé and quietly rushed himself into the back to put on his apron.

“Hey! You’re late, Prince!” Roman’s coworker, Alice, hissed. “You were late last Saturday too! Why don't you just set an alarm?” She asked, handing him a blueberry muffin.

“It messes with my beauty sleep! If I’m awoken by that horrible beeping, I’d never look good again in my life!” Roman said, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t had time to brush his hair that morning, instead opting to take a bite of his muffin. “God, this is good…” Roman said under his breath. “Hey, Lo!! You’re the best baker ever, you know that!!” He called to the baker who was taking bread out of the oven.

“I know, now if only you could manage to get here on time.” They said, sighing and pushing their glasses up.

“Hey!! A man needs his beauty sleep! It’s hard work to look this pretty!” Roman said, heading out to the front to begin his shift.

“Oh, is that right, Princey?” A teasing, smooth voice asked from the counter.

Roman huffed. “Hey there, Virge. And yes. It is right.” Roman watched his friend laugh softly before yelling back to Alice to get Virgil’s coffee.

“So what’s this story you have for me?” Virgil asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

Roman smiled. “Well-”

Someone on the other side of the counter cleared their throat. A woman with a neat hair bun and slim suit stood near the order counter, her prehensile demon tail flicking back and forth in impatience.

Roman sighed. “I’ll tell you during break, I gotta run. Besides, don’t you need to let the cats out?” He asked before sliding over to take the woman’s order. By the time he was done, Virgil was gone.

Soon, little feline figures began to file out of a cat door in one of the back rooms. Five, six, seven- ten!! Eleven cats poured out and around the area, climbing on cat towers built into the structure and flopping down into cat beds on the ground. One particular cat wiggled his butt and launched himself onto the counter towards Roman. That is before being caught midair by Virgil.

“Sorry, Ro! Merlin missed you yesterday, you know how it is.” He apologized.

Roman laughed and reached forward, petting the grey ragdoll. "I missed you too, buddy!"

~~•~~

Roman loved his job working at the cat cafe. It was owned by a nice man who had a big heart. And even though Roman was just a small time barista, him and Thomas got along splendidly. Thomas had known Logan for a very long time and wanted them to be his baker and Virgil had gotten recommended by Logan, Roman however, had only known any of them for two years.

Of course in those two years he’d gone camping twice with Logan and Thomas, gone to the aquarium twice times with Virgil and once with Logan, and spent every break they had sitting on the counter in the back talking, laughing and teasing one another as Logan baked raspberry thumbprint cookies for the three of them and the golden haired boy they obviously had a crush on.

And on the weekends, Virgil and Logan and sometimes Alice and Thomas would agree to let Roman drag them to the gay bars he played at with his small time band. And when everything was all over, they’d all relax and have a few drinks before parting ways. They had started to become a tight knit family of sorts.

Roman couldn’t be happier with his friends and his job. He had left his desires for a Flaire behind him. He was okay being normal if normal meant his friends.

~~•~~

“So,” Virgil started, pulling himself up onto the counter in the back with a blackberry soda in hand. “Tell us about this crazy thing that happened to you last night, Ro. What was it? You broke a plate? Your neighbor is actually ten giant bees in a trench coat? Oh oh oh!! I got it! Aliens!” Virgil began laughing as Roman swatted at him.

“Har, har.” Roman said flatly.

“Honestly, Virgil, the only mystery here is how you manage to find the strangest flavored drinks. Last week it was mint.” Logan said, amusement twitching the edges of their lips as they dodged under Virgil’s pitiful blows. “Roman? Do tell what happened to provoke such a dramatic reaction from you.”

“Thank you, Logan!” Roman flourished and jumped onto the counter next to Virgil.

He relayed the break in and his encounter with the hero, embellishing a bit here and there.

“Wow…” Virgil said, crushing his soda can and tossing it at the recycling can across the room, cursing when he just barely missed. “What a bitch...See this is what I’ve been talking about,” He jumped off the counter and picked up his can. “Heroes are just stuck up bastards who have no consideration for everyday people like us…” He tossed the can away and turned back toward Roman, leaning against the wall. “You should sue for property damage, Ro. Find out who they were and sue.”

Roman waved his hand. “Honestly that just sounds like more trouble than it’s worth. And they were kind of hot though…” He said dreamily.

Virgil snorted. “Your pansexual ass is attracted to literally everything that’s ever breathed in your general direction.”

“And what’s wrong with that when everything is so pretty?!” Roman huffed.

Logan checked their wrist, smiling fondly. “Roman, Virgil, it’s time you two get back to work.”

“Awh!! But the cookies!!” Virgil whined. “They’re not done yeettt!”

“And they won’t be for another ten minutes, Virgil. I’ll make sure to set some aside for you and Roman once they are completed.” Logan reassured their friend.

“Fiiine.” Virgil relented. “But I expect one free drink as compensation tonight!!”

“Expect no such thi-”

“Thanks, Lo!!” Virgil stuck his tongue out at Logan and left with Roman.

As the two came out to the counter a familiar bubbly voice caught Roman’s attention. “Hello!!”

“Ah! Right on time!” Roman said to Virgil, not needing to face the counter to know it was the cute golden haired boy that Logan had a crush on. “The usual-” Roman started, turning around to face him before abruptly stopping himself.

“For me, yep! What about you, Dai?” The boy said.

The reason Roman had cut himself off so violently stared at him with the same cold gaze and golden-amber eyes, one not quite matching the other. He wore a beanie with a yellow and grey hoodie. His ears were pierced multiple times and he now had a nose ring where it had been absent last night.

Roman bristled and so did the stranger. And at the same time they yelled, the stranger’s voice making it all the more clear it was the same person from the night before.

“It’s you!!”

Tag list:

@iwillsithereandtrytocontribute @gattonero17 @soupgromlin @melodiread @septiplierdantisanders @just-a-hufflepuff @themagicheartmailman @awesomefanderhufflepotato @lofinnfish @dabookwormcat

(I kinda tagged everyone that said they wanted me to write this fic, (As well as my general tag list) is that okay? if you didn’t want to be tagged, please let me know!!)

Edit: I’m so fucking sorry I forgot to add the warnings

#Brilliance Of a Dying Star #deceit sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #ts deceit #ts logan #ts roman #ts virgil #thomas sanders #sanders sides #ts sides #sanders sides fic #ts sides fic #super hero au #roceit

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rotttnapple · 4 years ago

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(from betaofthedead.) (( for the question meme. tell me something about charley and cain’s childhood and how/if that affects their current lives! give me all the loreeeee ))

- Cain was supposed to be an only child, older than Charley by about six years. The Harris household was very ‘traditional’, very Catholic. Their mother, Catherine, was expected to keep house and obey her husband. Their father, Elijah, was expected to provide for the family. Catherine always wanted a big family, but Elijah did not, and does not, like children, one was enough fulfillment of that particular duty for him regardless of his wife’s feelings. Charley was the product of a little too much wine and those Good Catholic Values slipping just enough to give Catherine a second child.

Elijah, who already did not like children and had his one Favored Son, now had another. He was rather indifferent to Charley in his very small years, but when it became clear that Charley was nothing like his brother - Cain was an obedient, godly, sporting, masculine child - Elijah began to actively hate him. Charley was artistically inclined, curious, entirely unsporting, and quite obviously took after his mother. Elijah began taking ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ to extremes - despite the fact that Cain was never subject to the same treatment - he often beat Charley, even going so far as to threaten to kill him. Partially out of the belief that this would some how make his small, fine boned son more ‘manly’ and ‘obedient’ (rarely, did Charley ever blatantly cross his father), and partially because he liked it. He liked the power. The control. His wife was already broken to his will, and now he had a new target.

As adults, Cain is, mostly, as his father expected him to be. Pious and god-fearing, introspective, a man of schedules and neatness. He has the same artistic flair as his brother - but it’s subdued, hidden. He pursued a degree in Engineering, and in college, cautiously, began keeping sketchbooks, mostly of wildlife, and dared to stick a toe out of the exceptionally deep closet he has lived the entirety of life inside of. He has no taste for cruelty, but he is considerably stiff, unyielding, and occasionally outright rude and unwelcoming to strangers. Despite being favored, he has never known love, or softness. He doesn’t know how to feel. He is capable of it - but it isn’t readily apparent. He’s emotionally stunted, encased in a hard shell crafted of his father’s expectations. Connecting with people is difficult, sometimes nearly impossible, for him. When he does, he is loyal and steadfast.

Charley left home at fifteen, shortly after his birthday when his gift was yet another violent beating, fearing that the next one would see him dead. His parents never looked for him, and as far as the community was concerned, the boy was sent away to a Catholic boarding school - in France. This choice ended up being both a saving grace and a curse - he ended up in some nasty situations, but he was also able to finally blossom and grow, discovering all the things his brother was deprived of through people both good and bad. Unfortunately, Charley still carries the scars of his upbringing in more than one way - there are fears that will never fade, nightmares that come crawling back. The way his fingers with twist and rub together are a product of a time when the sound of his father coming in the front door filled him with cold dread and he knew better than to hide. He used to bite his lip to hold back the tears that would only enrage his father more as he knelt, nearly bare, on the cold concrete floor of the garage, listening to the rote of Bible verses and the sound of his father’s belt cutting through the air.

@betaofthedead

#;Charley #;Cain #headcanon #tw: abuse #tw: beating #tw: scars #this MADE ME SAD #someone kill Elijah 2k21 #Anonymous

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lillytalons · 5 years ago

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Your prompt: it’s Mardi Gras and I’ve lost my friends in the parade and end up on a random ghost tour that your leading and wow—you’re hot for a bloke who gives ghosts tours on a Friday night during Mardi Gras

(So it’s kinda short and I’ve never gone to anything Mardi Gras, but hope you like it! It was a really fun prompt)

“Bloody music.” I mutter as I glare at the trope of musicians strolling by me, playing their instruments at full volume. Or more than full volume. Mary is always insisting that participants at Mardi Gras have supernatural forces on their side. Of course I remind her that the supernatural doesn’t exist (probably), but in this case she might be right. Can trumpets actually go that loud? I sigh and shove my phone back into my front pocket. Uncomfortable but I should be able to feel it if Mary actually calls back and anyway pickpockets are a problem. Mary and Marlene have disappeared, I thought I heard something about shrimp skewers but they were gone before I could follow. And of course Mary won’t answer her bloody phone. Or Marlene. Nothing can be heard over the music and general yelling in the street, no way they’ll hear their phones ringing.

I mutter again as I keep wandering, looking for promising food stalls they may have stopped at. Mary was wearing a truly ridiculous purple hat made mostly of feathers, easy enough to spot near our dorm, impossible to spot with everyone else wearing garish feathers too. I brush my own feather boa out of my face (again) while I read a sign about ghost tours. Huh. Mary definitely said something about ghosts. Halloween is not enough for that girl apparently.

I dodge around one of those guys walking on huge silts and duck into the shadowy doorway. After apologizing to the crabby 15 year old I bumped into near the entrance, I heard the tour guide tell everyone to follow him and head to the left. It was a decent sized group, but super crowded, no way to tell if Mary and Marlene were here in such a small space. I followed along at the back of the group, but the aforementioned 15 year old was still glaring at me. I gave her my perfected ‘you don’t scare me and I can kick your butt’ look and she finally backed off. Options now were: stay here (not high on the list), escape altogether (Mary and Marlene could still be here, so also out), shout their names (could backfire and I’d also interrupt the tour guide which would probably be rude), or work my way to the front of the group. Going to the front won and so after 5 minutes of squeezing through people I barreled to the front when everyone stopped except me. Great.

Well, Mary and Marlene aren’t he—oh. He’s hot. Not like kinda cute or just decent looking, this guy in front of me is actually hot. And he’s grinning. At me. He runs a hand through his really great hair, and says “Alright there?”

I feel my face start matching my hair as I back up into the huddle of the group again. “Yeah. Just really interested in this part.” I tried not to stare at him but dang. I would never live this down if Mary found out.

“Nice to meet a fellow enthusiast.” Hot boy said with a wink. A wink, seriously? Just let me die in private humiliation, is that too much to ask?

Hot boy continued his tour, and he was actually really good at it. Just the right details, engaging the group, throwing in the perfect amount of dramatic flair. He kept looking at me too, and my costume wasn’t crazy compared to most people’s, so why in the world?

The tour was finally ending and I was trying to decide whether to hit Mary and Marlene for abandoning me, or try to get a pic of Hot boy to prove my story. Of course at that moment, there was a blood curdling scream right next to my ear. And something grabbed me from the side.

I’m not sure what happened but I jumped, screamed, and turned all about the same time. I’m not sure what order those things happened, but apparently my hand was out, and in a fist, and by the end of the traumatizing few seconds, there was a bloke on the ground groaning, the group around me was stopping their own screaming, and Hot boy was almost doubled over from laughter.

“What in the bloody hell did you do that for, Red?” Says the bloke on the ground. He glares at me while holding his face. He was probably attractive too, in a biker, bad boy sort of way, arrogant too from the looks of it.

“You so deserved that Padfoot!” Hot boy says between gasps.

“Did not!” Padfoot (What kind of name is that?) turned his glare on him. “It’s a ghost tour, that’s basically what they pay for!”

“Shouldn’t have picked the one who could slug you then.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Padfoot got off the ground and slugged Hot boy in the shoulder in the manly way guys do. I hardly noticed the rest of the group leaving. Suddenly it was just the three of us. Padfoot looked at me and his glare turned to grudging respect. “Pretty good shot though.” He seized me up for a minute. “Sirius.”

“What?”

“My name, I’m Sirius. This backstabber is James.”

“Oi! You laughed at me yesterday, we’re even.”

Sirius shrugged like he didn’t have a care in the world. “You alone, Red?”

“Lily. And no, I just, misplaced, my friends.”

Sirius grinned, “Lucky for you I’m known to be good at sniffing people out, and James here is tall enough to be useful in a crowd.” He strolled out into the street and I glanced at James. He looked a little uneasy.

“Only if you wanted help, I can distract him if you want to make a break for it.” He fixes his glasses and runs his hand through his hair again.

My common sense which sounded annoyingly like Petunia said I shouldn’t go with 2 strange blokes, but when did I ever listen to Petunia anyway? “No I would love some help.”

Hot boy, James, grinned and winked again, and we followed Sirius back out into the street. Mary and Marlene might actually be speechless when we found them. Especially when James grabbed my hand to chase after Sirius who spotted a walking vendor selling pancakes, and he never let go.

#jily #hp #james potter #lily evans #lilly posts stuff #fanfic

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morkhan · 6 years ago

Text

I just love the idea of Harley as Tony's Problem Child™.

If Peter is the Good Boy, Tony's successful attempt to pass on only the best parts of himself, and Morgan mostly takes after her mother (the best he could hope for, really), then it seems only right that Harley inherit many of Tony's more... difficult qualities. His pride. His flair for the dramatic. His impulsiveness. His reckless charisma, the ability to walk into a room and instantly draw every eye and ear, to figuratively and literally charm the pants off almost everyone he meets. His sharp tongue, the need to cajole and provoke and push people, just to see how far they'll let him go before they push back. His stubbornness, his need to be in charge (of himself, at the very least), his natural instinct to rebel against ideas that aren't his own.

Tony worries about all his children in different ways, but Harley worries him the most. Because while Peter can lift a school bus, and Morgan could probably build a nuclear reactor out of kitchen appliances, Harley's superpower is perhaps the most dangerous of all; he can make people follow him, fall in love with him, without even trying. Wherever he goes, he draws followers. Hangers-on. Sycophants who just want to bask in his aura, in the glow of that confidence Tony apparently gave him way too much of, to make up for what they lack.

And that terrifies him more than anything, because Tony knows firsthand how intoxicating that kind of power can be, and the danger and damage that come from wielding it carelessly. He knows this means that Harley, more than any of his other kids, could easily wind up repeating Tony's exact mistakes, walking down many of the same dead-end roads he himself walked before finally figuring his shit out. And what's worse, he knows this specific collection of traits also means that Harley won't fucking listen to him when he tries to warn him away from those mistakes.

It's enough to give a man a heart condition.

Their fights are legendary. They both try to stay calm at first, but they're both so damn good at pushing each other's buttons that they inevitably end up yelling by the end, and Tony yells at no one on earth like he yells at himself his wayward son. There is at least one point where he is 100% sure he's lost the kid forever, that's it, finito, dunzo, no takebacks.

But of course, like his surrogate father, Harley's better angels win in the end. Peter and Morgan help. So does Pepper. After all, so knows better how to handle a Tony-type than she does? So the prodigal son returns home, and Tony gets to have the reconciliation with him that he never got with his own father.

Later, after they've shed Manly Tears and hugged it out, Tony berates himself for almost pushing him away, but Harley just laughs. Tony will never be rid of him. They're far too connected for that.

#harley keener #tony stark #peter parker #morgan stark #pepper potts #iron family #AU obviously

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glitterslag · 5 years ago

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8, 11,13, 16, 19, 25 with warren for the headcanon prompts?

more warren headcanons bon appetit sluts x

8. Can your character keep a secret?

Warren is extremely good at keeping secrets. He’s not the kind of person who gossips or anything like that, and so he would never get the urge to tell a secret, even just that one person. His lips are sealed, especially if it’s you.

Of course, you tell him all the gossip from your friends and workplace, and he has to admit he finds it entertaining despite himself, but he never has much to tell you back. After a while of you pestering him, he starts making mental notes of funny things that happen or workplace drama so he can tell you later. Once, after you didn’t see him for a whole week, he whipped out his phone during dinner and you saw he’d written everything down in the notes app in his phone 😩💌

But seriously. If it was an actual secret, he’d never tell.

11. How do they feel about spiders?

Not good. He will kill them for you, due to his intense need to appear manly at all times but he does not feel good about it. He absolutely hates the fuckers. He’s too Manly ™ to have phobias but if he did have one, spiders would be it.

13. Which is worse for your character: intense heat or freezing temperatures?

Warren loves to be warm. He naturally runs hot, plus he’s always in the gym or out running with the dog, so his body temperature is always through the roof. He keeps the heating on in the house and in his car really high. He’s always hanging around the house in shorts and a vest, or just shirtless. Sometimes, when he gets his arms wrapped around you in bed at night, you have to push him away because he feels sweltering.

He can’t stand being cold. His body just shuts down and he runs out of energy. On really really cold days, he won’t get out from under the blanket he’s wrapped himself in on the sofa. He’ll sit huddled around a hot cup of coffee, shivering and even more sullen than he usually is.

16. Is your character artistic in any way?

Warren would say he doesn’t have a creative bone in his body, but you don’t think that’s true. As I’ve said before, he’s got a real flair with the cocktails and the presentation of the food at work, and he likes to put his own twist on things. Even if you two are just having a simple dinner at home, he’s always tweaking things and messing with the presentation to get it just perfect.

He def has a finsta account dedicated to his artsy food and cocktail presentations that he only allows like, you and a few of his friends to follow. A typical post would be a picture of some gourmet shit he’s cooked up, presented perfectly on a plate (I’m talking herb sprig garnishes, sauce drizzles), and the dog in the background.

19. How does your character act when they get sick?

Denial denial denial. I’m not sick, it’s just a cold, yes i totally am fit to go to work shut up, blah blah blah blah. He won’t take medicine. He won’t let himself have any rest. He’s just grumpier than usual. You soon get tired of it and stop bothering to try and take care of him, leaving him to suffer in silence.

25. Do you feel that you as person could be close with this character? Elaborate.

Oo this is a good one!!

Personally, even tho I absolutely love the bird boi in theory, I don’t think I could do it in practise. Especially not date him. I’m sorry it just sounds too much like hard work especially re: something @kurt-nightcrawler was saying the other day - he’s a big ol aquarius and I don’t have time for that shit sorry!!!! Maybe if it was 2019 Warren and he got woke and got some therapy for his Man Issues ™ then i could, but otherwise…. ehh.

I do think we would get along as friends/acquaintances tho cause he’s a straightforward, no nonsense person n I respect that.

#Warren Worthington #Warren Worthington III #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington imagine #x men apocalypse #warren worthington headcanons

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adultstories4u · 6 years ago

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I had no idea now many enemies I had made while a city traffic cop for nearly six exciting years. That was until I was fired from the job for trying to fix some politicians speeding ticket another veteran officer had written up two days earlier. Unable to land another state wide Law Enforcement job for nearly three long searching months, I finally took a thirty hour a week rather low paying position as a security doorman at a well know downtown Gay Club. Christ only into my second hour of my very first shift, I caught some older fag merrily sucking away on a large stiff cock right in front of the two mensroom urnals! Right on the spot I made a citizens arrest for lewdness and marched him straight into Mr. Hendersons private office. It was there I learned that I was always supposed to just look the other way when it came to any Sexual Activities within that private club. So as the weeks flew by, I found myself witnessing first hand, a great deal of sex acts going on in many different parts of the club. Most were blow jobs performed right out in plain sight. Somehow viewing these as well as a few after hours closed locked doors anal and sucking orgies on the front stage soon had me a bit more than curious! So as my first month ended, I allowed some lavish pink clad queen to suck me off in the back beer storage room. God, I couldn’t believe how wonderful his/her practiced mouth made my nice sized neglected cock feel! No woman had ever come even close to giving me so much wonderful physical pleasure. Soon I found myself getting almost nightly blow jobs during my half hour mid evening breaks. Mostly from Pixie as she choose to call herself while every now than, allowing a few other of the regular CD’s to also suck me off! By this point in time, everyone had openly started calling me Officer Dick! So with each new nightly sex experience, I found myself not only loving it more and more, but also starting to think about actually trying to suck another mans cock! No not the fem acting prancing queens, but rather the bike leather crowd gay faction who all seemed so much more masculine and manly to me. It was one named Butch who I found myself having the most interest in. He was a very dominant type who seemed to be the self appointed leader of that group that called themselves the Top Riders. As our new friendship blossomed over those next few weeks, I confided in Butch about my new gay urges and feelings! He would always laugh and tell me To stop being a sissy and to go for it! Adding he was sure I was going to love switching from women to men! So with my mind finally made up, one Saturday nite after hours, I sat with his bunch and smoked my very first pot ever! Within a short time, I guess I had gotten stoned real good and found myself accompanying Butch into the mens room. Having to rid myself of some of those four or five beers I had just downed, I stood in front of one urnal while Butch pulled up to the other one on my right side. Somehow as I began pissing, I looked over in secret hopes of grabbing a glance at his DIck! An Oh what a majestic oversized Dick Butch had! Even soft it was almost as long and much thicker than my own seven incher when rock hard! After peeling back his pocketed foreskin, Butch just stood there holding it while I was unable to take my eyes off of it! Advertisements God just its sight had me feeling so Strangely Gay and Different than Ever Before! Noticing my interested eyes, Butch smiled while asking me if I’d like to follow him into one of the stalls? Maybe thirty seconds later, I found myself standing along side the open cubicle door while Butch dropped his leather riding pants and sat down. Moving forward a bit on the seat, he let his balls hang down over the front edge of the toilet while that massive cock of his had me completely spellbound as it began to lengthen and thicken into a more than impressive erection! Right then and there, I had already made up my mind to become submissive for him as I stood waiting for some kind of direction? “You know the cocksuckers comode drill by now!” he said to me while adding, “Get on your knees and get busy!” Yes while feeling a bit unsure and a bit afraid, I also felt some building excitement as I knelt down on that hard marble flooring. After weeks of secretly suck fantasizing while jerking myself off alone in my appartment, It was actually going to finally happen! My right hand was slightly shaking as it moved forward to feel a cock other than mine for the very first time ever! A cock so much bigger and so thick then that my hand barely was able to wrap around its girthy shaft. It was like I was helplessly hypmotised in some sexual trance as I began to quite gayly explore a good solid nine inches of then thobbing warm manmeat! Stoned good from both the pot and the beers, all of my resistence or sound reasons were gone as I began to loveingly stroke its entire length. Now as it stood sticking out at a 45 degree upward angle, both of Butchs strong hands together grabbed the back of my head and pulled it downward and forward. Quite willingly and submissively I parted my quivering lips as my flairing nostril inhaled the strong fregrence of Butche’s Big Prick! Then I was actually taseting it as its large oval knobby bulbus head slipped well past my outstretched lips. As my mind raced in the reality that I had Stiff Cock in my mouth, its strong musky like flavor began to sting my tastebuds. Next as I instinctively tightened my lips just beyond Butche’s glans, I felt a new kind of peaceful contentment as if my tongue suddenly had grown a mind of its own. Yes it began to lick warm hard Prickhead that immediately began to throb in response. Now fully beginning to understand the many Thrills and Joys associated with Sucking on A Hot Thick Cock, like every new first time dicklicker, I found myself overrun with wanting yet more of it to worship and sample. Butch told me then to watch my teeth as I began to breathe through my nose. Next those strong hands of his were guiding my head back and forth in three to four inch strokes as it began to Mouth Fuck Me a bit deeper! With each new exciting introduced inch, I found myself feeling so incredibly excited and more turned on. While my slopply novice mouth was making loud sucking noises, I reached down to my uniformed pants to free my own rock hard dick. While I wasnt at all expecting Butch to suddenly remove it from my mouth and to stand up, I did lean back far enough so that it now was nearly level with my lower face. His deep voice was firm and in total control as he ordered me to “Suck It Like a Bitch in Heat!” Having shed every last ounce of my pride or shame, I became Butches Toilet Stall Blow Boy as I crudely but greedily began to deeply mouth that magnifficent Dick of his! God how alive and sexual I felt as my head began to bob like it was a mouth cunt made just for Butches selfish pleasure. When his head found my tight throat opening, he told me to relax and not to even think about trying to swollow as I began to slightly gag in relex. Then almost magically, his powerful hips suddenly thrust forward as it was rammed right down my throat. For maybe 10 seconds, Butch left it in all the way as I felt his hairly balls resting on the cleft of my chin. Then he withdrew most of it to only again shove it all the way home. This made me feel not only proud, but also so Wonderfully Submissive as well. Yes I was then loving Giving Head more than anything I could ever remember. Now Butch became quite verbal as he told me He had a Big four day old Hot Load that my new Faggot Mouth was just going to Love! “COME ON YOU SUBMISSIVE COP COCKSUCKER”, “SUCK IT REAL GOOD BOY” ‘GO AFTER MY BIG HOT FOUL SOUPY LOAD” “OH YEAH BITCH” “KEEP THAT UP AND YOUR GONNA HAVE TO DO SOME FAST SWOLLOWING” Butches words then only servered to excite me yet greater. Now not onlywas the reality that I submissively sucking on a gigantic thick stiff cock turning me on, but also the fact that the he soon would be forcing me to take his big hot load as well. Both thoughts excited me greaty durning those next few minutes before the feel of thick warm wetness began to sting my tastebuds. God Butch was shooting off right inside of my mouth and just like the many Fem Queens I viewed over the past several weeks, I too was loving it and allowing it to really happen. Sex stories: My teacher and me After blasting himself off to a long enjoyable Cum. Butch only smiled down at me before stepping aside and leaving that often used Suck Stall. Remaining on my knees, I freed my own rock hard dick and with eyes closed, jacked for no more than a minute before getting off a great long lasting powerful feeling load. Yes the taste of three quarters of a mouth full of fresh strong biker sperm only served to excie and enhance my wonderful climax. That night I hung in the mens room forgetting and neglecting my duties. Word had gotten out around the main room about Officer Dicks sudden emergence into a toilet stall Cocksucker. Yes it was mix of both Leather clad bikers as well as Drag queens that I took on for nearly two wonderful action packed hours. Later a popular older club Queen named Sherry Beth took me out for coffee and then to her place to talk to me until well after the sun had come up. I was totally amazed when she told me that with the right makeup and clothing, I would make an almost passable Cross Dresser. Somehow this triggered a strange new curiousity on my part. Yes while she only briefly did up my face that morning. I was mezmerized at how different looking at myself in her dressing mirror made me feel inside. Now with my buzz completely vanished, I sucked her small cock off to full competion loving the lip stick marks my many quite fem planted kisses had left on it. Yes after weeks of curious thoughts and strange new gay feelings, I had given in and had discovered that Gay Sex was far more exciting and erotic to me than any of my many past expericence with woman had been. Seeking yet more stimulation while working, a few nights later under my uniform security pants, I wore a pair of tight fitting pink thongs that had my cock hard most of the night. During my half hour breaks, I too became a rest room stall Cocksucker! While the anal part of gay sex didnt seem to interest me at all. I had become fully addicted cocksucker who couldnt wait the hit the club five nights a week. Loving to suck mensroom cock while wearing bright red or pink glossy lipstick, soon all the regular members and staff were calling me Officer PeterMaid instead of Officer Dick. Soon besides wearing womans panties, I also wore nylon stockings under my uniform pants. Oh how great and electric their silk tightness felt tightly clinging to my legs. More and more I found myself attracted to the always numerous Club Cd Queens, Ts”s and Tv’s. I found great excitement in viewing their wide variety of many different sexy fem outfits! Yes often I would go to Shelly Beths apartment and loved it when she would do a make up job on me and let me wear some of her vast wardrobe of Femmine attire. Yes Shelly much rather preferred taking stiff cock in her Bitch pussy rather than in her mouth. So as a reward for her making me up and dressing me, I began to fuck her tight smooth bitch pussy quite often! One night she even gave me a wonderful rim job and then used her tiny finger to introduce me into the vast joys of anal pleasure. I liked it so much , that two nights later in an out of town Porn shop, I bought myself both a small butt plug as well as a very narrow soft latex anal vibrator. Yes soon besides my cock craving mouth, I had a second hole that also craved and enjoyed firm round sex toy penetration! Now was added another sexual article under my uniform trousers. Yes shear hose, sexy panties and a inserted butt plug to make my asshole feel so alive and wonderful each and every work night. Needing far more pay to make ends meet, Mr. Henderson let me also fill a part time bartenders position! Within a month in which I loved and took to it like a duck to water, I became one of the two main night bartenders and was earning almost as much money as I had when on the Police force. Most in tax free tips! Yes no longer a secuity guard, I was far more happy as I could spend my time socializing instead of patroling the lounge or checking IDS! Now with my hair much much longer than my former required police force short haircuts, I had both ears pierced and began to wear both sets of ear rings Shelly Beth had loaned me. Also just enough lipstick to show I was gay and had a fem side to me. Next came light but detectable brow liner and within a month, enough makeup to leave no doubts I had become the clubs newest queen! Yes after work many a night, I would allow my self to be picked up by regulars or customers that I found interesting and quite Sexy! One of the first was a friendly stranger name Bob who put the make on me all night long. I found him quite attractive and loved the way he was always checking out my fairly round ass. In fact by closing time, he had made it clear that he would love to take me back to his motel room and fuck the shit out of me till daylight. Bob was a married businessman from the mid west who had such a sexy accent. Yes more than long overdue to take my first real cock up my ass, I let Bob pick me up and take my to his room. Bob’s cock was more than perfect as he waisted little time stripping down bare ass naked. Perhaps not quite six inches, it was slender with a small head that I know wouldnt be the least bit painful in deflowering me. Sex stories: First time skinny dipping Bob loved my lavendar panties and black fishnets. After only a few minutes of submissivelly sucking his lovely dick from my knees, he couldnt wait to mount me doggy style. Oh how wickidly naughty and aroused I was as I got on all fours at the end of his hotel bed and stuck my naked excited soon to become a pussy ass out over its end. Yes at last instead of rubber or latex, I was going to finally get the real deal! How heavenly were those ten exciting minutes for me! Such wonderful discoveries of new feelings as my sensitive nerve endings delivered such divine sparks of pleasure from the friction of Bob’s stiff two way sliding dick. Yes I found getting fucked was every bit as Erotic and Enjoyable as Sucking Cocks had ever been for me. Waiting some 40 minutes for Bob to get it up again was well worth the wait, as it took him over half a hour of screwing before his second load arrived. To celebrate my having become a full fledged Cock Bitch, that very next night I showed up at work in full drag! Shelly Beth had spent well over an hour on my complete makeover transformation. Wearing her favorite white button down silk blouse with a nicely matching pink short mini, my freshly shaved legs looked stunning in her carefully selected white flowertopped fishnets. A pair of size 12 two inch black patten leather pumps finished off my street clothes while below them I wore a shear set of matching silver panties and bra that has cost Shelly Beth a small fortune. With my eye lids masked heavily in a med shade of blue mascaria, my now long jet black eye lashes really stuck out! The lipstick Shelly Beth had chosen was a glossy soft off tone pink that seemed to match perfectly with the long golden blonde wig Shelly had carefully chosen. With it being my one short four hour workshift to work per week, eleven clock rolled around fairly fast I removed my bar apron and became a customer. Already a host of the regulars had hit on me as I found myself being bought drinks by them right and left. By midnight, I was so carefree and felt so wildly sexy as well! Unknown to me then, Butch and his gang of the Leather Tops had planned a special private party at their large rented club motorcycle garage! Yes myself, Shelly Beth and Clitty Cock Chantel as she liked to call herself, were the three carefully chosen Bitches of the Night! With seven bottom pretty boys also on that special invite list, 10 of us cocksuckers and cocklovers arrived just before one am. along with some 26 different tops into many kinds of Gay Fettishes. Yes leather types, muscle men, jocks, skinheads, masters and even a few normal dressed men all offered us a wide varitey of exciting male meat to choose from! With the flirting, drinking and drugs all done back at the club, little time was waisted once Spider chained the front garage door shut from the inside! Such electrical engery seemed to be flowing from everywhere as a few already stiff cocks were openly exposed. One was seated sidesaddle on a full dressed harley as Clitty Cock Chantel quicky made her way over to it. Soon she was kneeling with it deep embeded inside of her brightly painted fem lips. Almost instantly, two of that bikers club brothers moved in to explore Chantels very sexy well rounded pettite inviting ass. Yes her skirt quickly found it way up to cover one side of that harleys handle bars as her white silk bikini panties were hurridly removed. Soon she was lifted back up on her feet and was bent over sucking side saddle cock while Bruno slipped on a lubed skin and moved in behind her. Dam how hot I felt watching from perhaps 12 feet away. Then looking around, I viewed five different cocks being taken into five diffferent submissive gay mouths. This while viewing Shelly Beith sitting sideways in Buches lap while heavily making out with him. All night long I had felt so wonderfully attractive and sexy and popular in my brand new cross dressing role! Why now was I being totally ignored and so much alone? All around that garage were so many men or girly boys engaged in wide open lustful homosexual acts ! So much sucking was going on as well a few hot backdoor fucks. It was then that Spider came over to me. He told me many of the Leather Tops were going to party with me a bit later on. I almost fainted when he told me he wanted to have me strip down to my sexy lingerie and go for a ride with him on the back of his Harley Chopper which he planned on riding ball assed naked! If I wasn’t a bit tipsy, I would have certainly never even considered it at all. However after smoking half a joint with spider, I weakend and somehow agreed. Soon a completely naked Spider was kickstarting his chopped Sportster with I care folded Shelly Beths borrowed blouse and skirt and put them safely aside. I guess the sudden sounds of Spiders roaring 1250 cc engine alerted the garage. While Butches younger cousin Frenchy unchained and opened one of the front garage doors, everyone seemed to stop and began to watch. Just before sitting on the back of Spiders custom two level seat, a smiling Shelly Beth suddenly walked up to me while holding a med sized already lubed butt plug! She told me that Butch personally wanted me to put it up my ass so I would never forget my Erotic Ride and be fully ready and hot for the gang bang that awaited me upon Spiders return. Looking over, Butch was then wearing a broard smile as he motioned for me shove that toy up my ass and to climb aboard! Never having taken anything so dam thick up my almost new pussy ass, I let Shelly Beth take off her silver panties and bent over. Yes it felt so dam big and wide and caused me some pain before its large thick girth slipped beyond my tight stubborn spinchter rim muscle. Next I felt those unmistable Harley vibrations as I centered my ass on the back of the seat and tightly wrapped both arms around Spiders waist! “Hold on tight honey! ” he said before reveing the motor and releasing the cluch. Over the powerful motor noises, I heard a few low cheers as the I felt the cool night air hitting my face and half naked body! Sex stories: My wife bought me a massage God how queer and feminine I felt as Spider weaved his way around those city streets never once stopping for a stop sign or red light! That dido felt so wonderful inside of my turned on ass which was receiving such stimulating Harley vibrations! Perhaps ten exciting minutes had passed before I saw the flashing blue lights of the cruiser in both of Spiders rear view mirrors. As Spider pulled his Sportster over to the curb, my Erotic Ride had instantly changed to one of complete fear and terror! Both grinning cops I had known well during my time on the force. Neither had the sightest clue to who I really was! They referred to me Gay Lady Gidiva while calling Spider Nude Keinevil. With no licience or regestration to show identy or ownership, they were going to run us both in and call a tow truck before I pleaded for mercy. With no real choice, I identified myself to them. Both had to take several deep long looks before breaking out in laughter! Yes they let us go but not before a few lewd remarks which included telling the entire dept. how Officer Dick Murphy had turned into a Drag Queen. Yes tears were flowing from both of my heavily made up eyes as that Harley again came to life and did a U turn to get back to the Leather Tops garage. Upon our arrival, Spider spun his tale which everyone took with a great degree of laughter. Climbing off I sought out Shelly Beth and wanted to go home as quickly as possible. Removing that butt plug from my ass, I threw it in a cruddy looking tash can and went to get my blouse and skirt. However both were gone from where I had left them and one of the few visable Top Riders told me they were in the back clubhouse room along with Shelly Beth. Yes after knocking on the locked door and identifying myself, I was admitted into almost total darkness not knowing that nine stiff biker cocks were awaiting my tight nearly virgin ass or my now recently converted cocksucking bitch mouth. After unseen hands guided me along several feet, the lightswitch was hit and I found myself almost completely surrounded by the main core of the Top Riders. Looking beyond them, I spotted Shelly Beth completely passed out. Her expensive nylons were full of long runs and her bra was ripped and hanging down with only one of her intact shoulder straps keeping it from falling off of her. I felt instant fear as those lewd grins each one wore had Gang Bang written all over them. Butch seemed so different than his regular self. Much more hardline and cruel as he infomed me that after six or so stiff cocks got my tight pussy to open up and fully respond, His big cock was going to fully brand me as his FEM FAGGOT FUCK FORMER PIG! Dressed in only my garter belt, fishnet hose and Shelly’s silver bra, I began to shiver as they moved in on me. Yes they were going to take me rough and selfishly as I began to pleas for mercy and understanding. It wasover an old faded tan couch arm that my lower tummy was laid as the open hand spanking of my exposed ass cheeks began. Yes stinging non stop hard slaps that soon had me squirming and kicking to try to escape. But so many strong hands were holding me down in place. Yes dispite having taken advanced lessons while back on the force, I was destined without hope to be used any way they chose. Yes totally unknown to me, most of them had served some time behind bars, they were true cop haters and certainly not my friends. Since my very first day at the club as a secuity guard, this night of revenge had been well planned and looked forward to. Yes Butch had turned me into a cocksucker and along with his cousin Shelly Beth, I was blindly lead down the path leading to homosexuality. Slowly turned into a Queer Queen who truly deserved to be brutally fucked up the ass. Yes I was in pure hell taking those first three stiff punishing bareback pricks up my ex cop ass. But somehow somewhere along the line, began to start liking it both physically and mentally as well. My moans had switched from moans of pain to moans of enjoyed pleasure. The madder they got, the most savagely my ass was pounded which only served to excite me yet greater! By the time a very pissed off Buch mounted me from behind, I had ejaculated twice without even being touched. Yet my ex cop cock remained rock hard as his giant mushroom cockhead rammed 10 inches of my sensitive bowel linings in bliss! I began to beg him to fuck me harder, faster and deeper. I told him how I loved his big balls bouncing off of my backside. I guess after five more minutes Butch gave up and actually went soft on me. I did offer to suck him off and recieved a hard back handed bitch slap across my face. So I was allowed to wake up Shelly Beth and gather up as much of her clothing as we could find. On the way home she cried telling me she was Butches cousin and was so terribley sorry to have betrayed our friendship. So soon after at the club, I took up with the hard core B@D or S@M fettish groups. Yes rough sex fit my needs so perfectly. Soon I met and became a Slave to Mistress Mago, a tall man hater who loved strap on sex with sissies. Yes while I’m nothing more that a sissy slut pig, I love my new lifestyle and have never been happier. Oh yes a few times I’ve been pulled over and asked by a grinning cop Whats up! Hey fuck them all as far as I’m concerned. To each his own. So tell me, “What turns you on the most? ”

The post Going from being a Cop to becoming a Sissy Cocksucker appeared first on Desi Stories.

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chamrosh · 6 years ago

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Okaaay

So. I promise this’ll end up somewhere a heck ton different to where it’ll initially look but yes I just need a long vent okay and honestly this whole first section is probably useful to loads of people so it’s not going to be abridged by me (though if anyone wants to add a tl;dr if this somehow get’s reblogged, go ahead). There’s probably gonna be more of these covering... different things, some of which will be related.

Anywho.

When I was in year 5, I had my first period. I lost 1/8 of my bodyweight in a week and the blood kept coming for another week after that. I was maybe 10, but probably 9. I had already grown intensely uncomfortable with the idea of being expected to be a woman when I grew up. I think I was born with a clock inside me, because exactly a month later, I had my second period. I lost 1/10 of my bodyweight, not having regained the weight from the previous month enough to support that. I tipped into being dangerously underweight at that point and didn’t have another period for a couple of months.

I complained to my mother about how it was too painful and how much blood I had lost and how much blood there was everywhere and OH MY GOODNESS why did it have to hurt so much, what were those great big clumps - And... and her fucking response was to tell me “it’ll hurt less once you get pregnant”. Ah yes. The solution to a 10 year old being in pain. Encouraging them to give your grandchildren already. A++ parenting. And whenever I asked, I’d always be told some variant of “it’ll hurt less the more children you have.”

That summer, my brother had been spending a month in Germany with my mother’s penpal from school, to help pick up enough to be able to do well in GCSEs. All fair and good there. Except that the youngest child of the family he was staying with, let’s call him Mike, had been to Ecuador to help with anti-poverty work for a month before that. Mike had been sick while there, but he had recovered after a day, and it was a week before he came back to Germany. My brother woke up a few days after arriving and started violently vomiting. My mother’s penpal is a pharmacist, so she rushed to her practice and grabbed as many things that would help and not cause complications together as possible, from her own pocket, and started giving him the doses of each. My brother started having violent diarrhoea too, and this had blood in it.

He was taken to hospital, and spent the rest of the month abroad there instead. Every day he lost 6L of fluid in excess just from the mixture of blood and diarrhoea, before the additional sweating he was going through. The hospital diagnosed him with a bleeding disorder, which isn’t haemophilia, but I shall call “haemophilia” for reasons of what it actually is being pretty rare and haemophilia being really similar and far more common, and honestly haemophiliacs need more recognition than peeps with my condition do based purely on numbers and i’m happy for any recognition of bleeding disorders because of me to go there (especially as most of the time my bleeding disorder is covered under the same hospital departments...). He was sent home after this and we had to keep him essentially quarantined for another 2 months. The hospital told my parents to get me and my other brother checked up for “haemophilia” as soon as possible. We did not receive that check up then, but instead nearly two years later. We were advised to get hepatitis injections too, after it was seen what hepatitis C could do to us, and to get those as soon after we were diagnosed as possible... and I’m pretty sure I still haven’t had my Hep shots.

Note that my monster periods starting happened after I was recommended to be checked out for bleeding issues and yet I was still just told “it’ll be fine if you have a ton of kids” by my mother. And may I point out that the idea of anyone putting anything up there in me makes me physically feel ill, and my imagination kind of glitches and physically won’t let me imagine any version of myself being pregnant or giving birth or anything like that and oh goodness did I try to force myself to manage it when I didn’t realise that even just not having kids was a valid option for people...

The hospital (which does have a proper name, but, again, rare disorder, I’m not naming it) eventually had to nag my mother to take me and my other brother up there for checks.

I remember when I started secondary school, and there was an assembly where “all” the boys and all the “girls” had to be split off for basically crap sex ed classes, and the teacher who did the “girls” one basically said that “oh your first one doesn’t hurt” and “on your first one this teeny tiny pad will do” and just, trust me, on my first period I’d have bled through the starter pads that were given out within about 5 minutes if I were lucky. Both a comment on menorrhagia and on the tininess of these pads. In a moment of disgust I took the first opportunity to get them out of my sight (by burying them at the bottom of my PE kit) and utterly forgot about them being given out for about 5 years.

I hated being in that room so much on so many levels. First, because it was a girls’ assembly, second, because the teacher kept handing out things for girls, which I just flat out refused to believe would be useful to me (because I’m a stubborn lil git when I want to be, but also because most of them would genuinely have been), and third, because she flat out lied. At least, from my view. I thought that losing 1/8 of your body weight on your first period was normal. Bear in mind as well that the puberty related info I had from my periods was entirely contained by giving me a book on puberty and walking out the room. I flicked through it once, realised I’d grow breasts, started crying, and threw it in a corner. I had no further interaction with that book (beyond actually closing it) for about 3 years.

When in class, one of my friends said that their teacher in a different subject had said that during periods you only lose about 3 teaspoons of blood, I refused to believe that a period that light was even possible.

And... all the girls seemed to be able to keep doing everything through the whole month. They didn’t seem to have to curl up into balls and spend their break times curled up down the back end of the school just praying the pain would pass.

When I finally got to the hospital, a year and a half after I was meant to, they did the blood test, I was super proud of how strong and manly I’d been that I didn’t faint at losing a ton of blood to the needle and my brother did, and this is yet another mini-installment in signs of gender dysphoria that small me didn’t register right here. And they said they’d call up about stuff after too - but before we left, the doctor said I should go on the contraceptive pill. It should probably horrify you to know that I knew what rape was when I was five, but I didn’t know what contraceptives were until I was twelve. But either way, I heard my mother refuse, and I wondered what it was, so I asked, and she explained that it gave you female hormones to make you not have children and that it was very bad because then you might not ever have children. I disagreed. It was very bad because it was female hormones. But even so, I was glad at the time that she’d said no.

Every single appointment - that is, twice a year - I got a call. Every single time I was asked if I wanted to go on the pill. I said no. I came up with lame excuses every time but I knew deep down it was always because I didn’t want to have any female hormones. My periods awfulness would vary. Initially it was always losing huge chunks of my weight, but more and more it’s manifested as me not being able to swallow anything at all bitter, and throwing up anything i’ve eaten if I try, and in having to pass enormous clumps through down there.

They started out smaller, like the size of the top joint of my thumb. It’s a sign of significant medical issues once you have a lump larger than a nickle / about a pound coin. I jumped from teeny tiny lumps to lumps about twice a diagnosable size. I had not been taught that lumps that size were not normal, and so I didn’t think it was anything significant when I was asked about it... plus, I knew they’d only suggest putting me on the Pill again...

My periods have always been pretty regular, as long as they’re not disrupted by intense stress (although I learned I could sleep less and make the periods less frequent, and that has to have been one of the worst decisions in terms of my grades I’ve ever made...), such that through the whole of biology in year 11 the worst stage of clumping would always be within the same half hour span on a Tuesday morning, during double biology. I used to deliberately hyperventilate, because when I was on the edge of fainting, I couldn’t feel it anymore. I couldn’t feel that disgusting lump making me acutely aware of an organ I do not want and did not ask for. I love biology. I hated having to miss periods of it for - hah - periods, every single month, but it was better than the alternative.

When I was 15, I started getting intense shooting pains through both sides, about the length of my hand below my ribs. When I went to the GP, I was questioned for what felt like hours, - with my mother STILL IN THE ROOM - if I had had sex with any boys, and whether I was pregnant. It made me feel genuinely ill to have the suggestion that I could ever be pregnant. And! Me! Having sex with someone putting their penis in me? No!

Turns out, once that questioning had stopped, I had ovarian cysts. On both sides. I’m almost guaranteed to be infertile - and I was told such at the time - because both of my ovaries had had it, and I’d had it on and off, and it had worsened over ovulation... and they were causing me enough pain that when they flaired up, I’d tense up, my back would curl defensively whether I wanted it or not, and I couldn’t get myself to move or talk. Those are not healthy ovaries. Honestly, it came as a relief to hear. I love the idea of having children, I really do, but to hear I wouldn’t be giving birth! Fucking great feeling, my dudes.

I hated going in the bathroom so much... I’d refuse to go. There were concert days, at least one each term where I’d have to leave the house at 8am and only get home at 10pm and I wouldn’t have gone to the loo in all that time because I hated the loo that much. It was relatively common to have to leave the house at 8am and get back at 6pm, or anything up to 8pm, and to have not gone to the loo in all that time. Anything more than about 4 hours gap regularly is bad for your health. The only time I would go to the loo in school was to get changed for PE on my own if I couldn’t deal with being with the girls (which happened a lot) or to deal with period matter.

During one lesson in year 9, double history, I felt the pad stick to the chair, and I didn’t dare budge an inch from where I was for the entire hour and a half. I procrastinated until I was the very last person sitting down from class still, and when I stood up, the pad ripped, and within a few seconds, the whole of the insides of both my legs were covered in blood. I knew I had to go to the loo to clear it up and replace the pad, but I still didn’t want to.

I started having clumps comparable to the size of the whole of the palm of my hand.

When I finally spoke about this to the doctor (and came up with yet more dumb excuses for why I didn’t want to be on the pill), they finally got me booked for an ultrasound. The forms stating what the procedure is say, by default, that you have to have instruments stuffed up your there so that they can see what’s going on internally, and I started presumably visibly panicking, judging by the fact that they immediately started discussing alternatives. You can have an external one through the front if you’ve not used a tampon or had vaginal sex, so if you’ve not done either of those, and you have period issues (especially to the same extent as me!), and the thought of anything up there also makes you panic, it’s probably best to continue to avoid them.

When I went up to the hospital, first i was super uncomfy because you have to drink a litre of water an hour before the ultrasound is done, and I knew that I’d have to go to the toilet there... but second, because the nurse doing it needs to have a lot of skin exposed. I get why. I also get why they picked a small, non-threatening looking woman to do it, but that also didn’t really help the discomfort. Nor did having to go into gynecology...

Anyway, normal period lining thickness is around 14mm thick at peak (obviously there’s a variation around that that’s perfectly healthy that’s a few mm wide). Mine was 34mm thick halfway through to ovulation. Which would explain how I basically manage to have a baby bump every month... And again, the nurse said I wouldn’t be getting pregnant. Embryos are not going to fare great in terms of getting enough nutrients there.

I liked the idea that my body was trying to provide for some stupidly manly baby. Only stupidly manly babies who could obliterate a uterus from the inside were welcome. Yep. It’s best not to question how I think sometimes but honestly I think I’ve made it sound as close to rational as I can there.

I had a panic attack over the phone call a year ago. I so wanted to say why I really didn’t want to go on the pill! And I was so scared that it was the only way to end the size of the clumping.

In July I managed to produce a whole collection of huge clumps, one the size of my whole thumb, one that was the length from my middle finger tip to the butt of my palm, and several others, all of which were very safely in menorrhagia territory... In September I managed to produce a clump the size of my fist...

I knew I didn’t want to have to deal with that any longer. But I’d also finally accepted I wanted nothing to do with me being feminine, and I knew what I had to say. And I started out the phonecall, literally last week, saying what I’d need to say as a numbered list and everything, setting it out. It still took me about 5 minutes from saying I had a third point and being prompted to say it that I finally got out my reasoning. I was asked what the issue was. I said again that it was female hormones and I didn’t want them. And again. And again. And again. And again. And then finally they got it.

I finally had an alternative suggested (which I still need to go and get sorted out because oh boy am I disorganised). And they said that the appointment was already longer than it technically should be, and that they really needed a good section of time to talk about how my gender interacted with my “haemophilia” and so they said they’d book my an appointment, not say what the appointment was about on the letter, but that that appointment would be about gender, and would be in my Easter holidays.

I think I practically died of excitement at having something gender-affirming to do officially that’d maybe be a first step in transitioning.

And then I checked my email this morning.

The letter has arrived at my parents’ house. My mother opened it. And she scanned it and sent it to me.

Her thoughts weren’t to scribble out her address and put mine and mail it along like a sensible human being with a basic comprehension of what boundaries are. NOPE, not my mother, not the woman who’d recommend that a 10 year old become pregnant. Of course not. No, she had to go and open confidential medical letters. And she didn’t even have any shame about that! Just straight up emailing me about having done so, and showing me proof that she had done so!

I’m so bloody relieved that the hospital were truthful about that, and that it wasn’t specific at all and just listed the hospital department I have to go to for it (which actually is the haemophilia department). That would have been a fricking awful way to be outed. Can you imagine that? Parents who told a 12 year old that if he turned out to be a lesbian, they’d kick him out the house. As a 12 year old. Who said to not even talk to trans people, let alone make friends with them. Who nearly broke off contact with their kids’ godparents’ son because he came out as pansexual. Who rant about how “society’s gone too far” and that “you can’t just choose” and that TERFs are completely and utterly right about everything for a full week after a single comment is made. Honestly I don’t think I’ve ever more concisely said why it’s taken me so long to actually admit that yep, I’m trans, and also to try coming out to any family members. Can you imagine? Finding out from having precisely 0% of a concept of privacy? My mother was horrified enough when my brother mentioned he was getting his tubes cut and that he and his wife are planning to adopt kids instead. Can you imagine her reaction?

I really really need to be able to safely permanently move out, if only so that my mother doesn’t think it’s okay to look through my medical letters.

Also yes that whole first bit was there because I never feel like I’ve vented enough about it ever and it’s fucking awful and it needs a lot of venting. ... but also to give a scope of the medical neglect from my parents and the level of reproductive control in their house, and to give some context to the stupid lengths they’ll go to to avoid having to deal that some people would really rather not have anything to do with what would make them fertile.

Hopefully now all that is vented I’ll actually be able to focus on what I’m meant to be doing. Which is working out where I’m gonna go for my year abroad. Which, incidentally, I’m going to be Out for, whether my parents approve or not. Also hopefully me actually posting this gives some people a reassurance that yes it’s fine to hate your periods, they suck, and honestly I feel bad for everyone on their periods no matter how much lighter they are than mine, and even if they aren’t a dysphoria inducing nightmare. All periods suck.

#periods #trans #transphobia #menorrhagia #haemophilia #tw:gore #gore #seriously gore #body horror #tbh yes i do think that my parents' behaviour probably falls under abuse #cpd #dysphoria #seriously i hope i can focus more #this has been bugging me all day

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returntothefalls · 7 years ago

Text

IQ-tie (preview)

Preview excerpt from Chapter 3 of Return to the Falls, a Gravity Falls fanfiction

Here’s the preview I promised for the anniversary! Hope it hypes you all up for what’s to come!

Gravity Falls came to life with the lavender light of the dawn. The birds were the first to stir, flitting out from their nests in search of the early worms and rousing the rest of the land with their cheery song. Once the birds were on the wing, it wasn’t long until the rest of the town’s inhabitants followed suit. Manly Dan rose with the sun and marched into the woods with his boys in tow, axes in hand and ready for another day of chopping wood. Shandra Jimenez downed the last swallows of her espresso as the camera began rolling for the morning news while Toby Determined slept face first on the desk beside her. Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland hit the streets in their patrol car, loaded up with enough coffee and sugary cereal to power them until their afternoon energy crash and subsequent power nap. Business carried on as usual. One could almost forget that the town had been besieged by rampaging vines just the previous evening. Even the Mystery Shack, nearest the epicenter of the attack, enjoyed a morning of restful peace – for a certain value of the word.

“Sassafras is correct! That’s seven points for Dipper and one point for Mabel.”

Mabel stomped her foot in disappointment as Soos and Dipper high-fived. Two bowls of soggy Trivi-o’s sat ignored on the table; the children had more pressing matters at hand. Abuelita insisted on buying the allegedly-educational cereal for Soos – “brain food, mijo” – and although the cereal itself tasted suspiciously like dog food, the quiz on the back of the box at least brought a competitive flair to breakfast.

“Next question,” Soos said, squinting at the box. “What valuable blue mineral is found in the American Southwest?”

Dipper’s raised his hand immediately. “Turquoise!”

“Correct again, dude!” Soos said. “I would have guessed rock candy.”

Mabel hunched forward in her chair, mouth set in a determined line. “Watch out, boys, this next one has Mabel written all over it!”

“Last question of the box,” Soos said. “So this one’s for all the marbles.” Dipper and Mabel sat at the edge of their seats, their bodies tensed. “The mythological sphinx has the face of a woman and the body of a what?”

Mabel’s hand shot up a split second after Dipper’s. “Lion!” he said.

“Correct!” Soos said. “We’ve got a new champion of Turbo Lightning Breakfast Trivia!” Dipper laughed and jumped out of his chair, pumping his fists. Soos gave him a fist bump, complete with dramatic explosion sound effect.

“Aww come on!” Mabel said, crossing her arms sulkily and sinking back in her chair. “I knew that one too! Dipper was just faster.”

“Don’t sweat it, Mabel,” Dipper said, still grinning. “It’s just a game. A game I won!” He high-fived Soos again.

“You know the nice thing about livin’ on a boat? You don’t wake up to a house of screamin’ kids. Screamin’ seagulls, maybe, but I can fry those up for lunch.”

Stan hobbled into the kitchen, looking rather sore and groggy – in other words, he was his usual grunkley self. His red stocking hat was now adorned with the familiar golden symbol from his old fez, which Mabel had sewn on the night before. Without hesitation, he picked up a bowl from the table and swallowed a spoonful of pasty cereal mush.

“Sorry, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper said. “Trivia gets me excited. Especially winning.”

“I knew a bunch of the answers too,” Mabel said indignantly.

Stan patted Mabel on the head. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie,” he said. “I know what it’s like havin’ to put up with the smart twin.”

Mabel frowned. “You think Dipper is the smart twin?”

“Well yeah, of course,” Stan said. “But that’s alright. Maybe he’s the smart twin, but you’re the fun twin! A real chip off your ole Grunkle Stan!” He winked.

Mabel gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan,” she said. “Trivia isn’t exactly the Mabel Pines specialty anyway.”

“Now what are you all standing around for?” Stan said. “In case you forgot, a demonic salad monster took the world’s most destructive Shack tour last night. We’ve got a lot of work to do!”

“Soos is keeping the Shack closed today,” Dipper said. “We thought it would be nice to take some time to relax this morning. I mean, I did get briefly swallowed by a plant yesterday. Doesn’t that earn me some down time?”

“No,” Stan said. “I don’t care if this place is under new management, I’m not gonna stand to see the Shack left like this. So let’s work hard to upgrade her condition from ‘miserable’ to ‘quaintly pitiful!’ Who’s with me?” He was met with unenthused mutterings from Dipper and Mabel and a genuine hoorah from Soos. “Good! Now someone go find my nerd brother, tell Corduroy to get her butt over here, and we’ll get this done together!”

Stan turned and left the room with Soos close behind, chattering about how happy he was to be fixing up the Shack with Stan again. Dipper turned to Mabel and shrugged. “Guess there are worse ways to spend the morning,” he said. He carried his still-full bowl to the sink, cringing as he watched the wet cereal clumps swirl down the drain.

Mabel started to follow Dipper out of the room, but the Trivi-o’s box on the counter caught her eye. “Hey Dipper, hang on a sec.” Dipper looked back at her inquisitively and she paused a moment before continuing. “Do you think of yourself as the smart twin?”

Dipper’s expression was instantly apologetic. “Mabel, don’t take that to heart, Stan didn’t mean anything by it.”

“But it’s true, right?” Mabel said. “You’re the guy everyone goes to for help with homework, or for advice on monster hunting, or anything like that.”

“Yeah, and you’re the girl people go to for everything else,” Dipper said. “It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks about your smarts, they love you for you!” He smiled. “Stan’s right about you being the fun twin. That’s something to be proud of!”

Mabel nodded. “I am happy that people think of me as a hip-hop-happenin’ girl, but I wish they would see me as both fun and smart.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re both fun and smart,” Dipper said.

“Thanks, Dip,” Mabel said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “But you’re my bro, you have to say that.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” Dipper said. “Now come on, we’d better get to work before Stan chews us out.”

“Hopefully it won’t take long,” Mabel said. “The Shack can’t be in that bad a shape, can it?”

There was a loud knock at the back door, followed by a muffled crack. A second later, the “S” from the Shack’s sign tumbled to the ground outside the window.

Stan walked into the kitchen, glanced out the window, and sighed. “I’m gettin’ too old for this.”

“Mr. Pines?” Soos’s voice called from the entry room. “There’s a nice lady here asking for you.”

Stan immediately straightened up, the corners of his mouth twisting in a sly smile. “A woman in Gravity Falls who wants to see me? That’s a new one.” He looked down at himself. His once-white tanktop was stained yellow with sweat and various food smears, his boxers were tattered and threatened to fall apart at any moment, and a mysterious pulsating fungus coated the exterior of his slippers. He turned to the kids. “How do I look?”

Mabel waved her hand in a “so-so” gesture and Dipper simply shook his head.

“Great!” Stan said. “Watch and learn, kiddos, this is how you charm a lady.”

Chest puffed out with confidence, Stan stepped into the entry room. He opened his mouth to speak, but as his eyes settled on the visitor, all words froze in his throat. Every trace of his bluster deflated in an instant.

Dipper and Mabel hurried after him, driven by concern and curiosity in equal measure. The old woman standing in the doorway was unfamiliar to them, yet the dramatic impact she’d made on Stan was unmistakable.

Mabel poked Stan’s side, but he didn’t respond. “He’s speechless,” Dipper said. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

The woman gave a small wave and an even smaller smile. “Hello, Stanley.”

Finally, Stan croaked out a strained reply. “Hiya, Hotpants.”

Carla laughed. “Can I come in?” she asked, grinning sheepishly. “I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

#gravity falls #disney #gravity falls fanfiction #preview #mabel pines

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