#Ratchet makes me question my sexuality (I think I like dudes)

[i-heart-lombaxes]

Why hello there everyone. As my first post for my revamp, have the full character design of my Ratchet and Clank self-insert Roslyn. Lombax, wife of Ratchet. Galactic Ranger. Hero. Mechanic. Mother.

[kc-anathema]

I’m so sorry I did another long post so soon...

So a long time ago, I received a flame on Spec Ops 98: Jazz's Interrogation at Soundwave's Pedes. I hadn’t received a flame in a long time, and I haven’t received one since (which is amazing, since this was on chapter 26 back in...dear heavens, 2015. This fic is officially an epic.)

In fact, I stopped reading the flame once I realized it was a flame, about four chunks in. 2015, five years ago, I was changing principals, changing schools, trying to figure out how to marry my Canadian then-fiance and figure out immigration. (Fun type--marry her in Vegas, wait a couple years, bring her over. Use a lawyer to make sure it’s all kosher.) So yeah, didn’t read.

And then a concerned reader mentioned to me that I didn’t deserve this awful flame and that they loved the story. And I thought...oh yeah, there was a flame on this. That was a couple months ago.

I finally decided to break the flame apart like I used to. This feels very nostalgic to me. I found out that this is really the flamer’s only claim to fame--they flame fics and troll writers. I’m not going to name them then, although you can find the easily on the ff.net review page for this fic.

My father once told me that, if anyone ever spraypainted slurs across my house...leave the slurs up. Don’t pay to remove them. Let the awful words stay up until everyone in the neighborhood is begging us to take them down again.

I think leaving the review there says more about her than me. And I’m going to enjoy clawing this apart, I think, like a cat scratching apart a lizard.

Flame begin:

We’ve got a problem if Soundwave is involved here and he’s not pulling his usual ‘Decepticons, Superior’ line. Add on a fic about perverts and we get this. Ah, well. What are you gonna do?

Remember the character Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory, and how he said “Bazinga” all the time? That kind of went from a joke to an overused character crutch. Like ‘dynomite!’ or ‘did I do that’? Is it really good to rely on a character line to the point where we can call it ‘usual’?

“I’ll take my pleasure and that sweet aft” – Sounds like a cheesy commercial for Robot Chicken. Fireflight is locked up in a dungeon and is about to be whipped by a BDSM Starscream. That’s not at all OOC. Basically it’s a fanfiction that talks about fanfiction.

I...um. Yes. Yes, it’s an OOC line modeled directly after pulp fiction zines and tijuana bibles. I literally looked up several of those on the Internet Archives and various old men’s magazines covers. It’s not fanfiction directly, although it’s certainly what fanfic evolved out of.

Do these look subtle? Low key? Classy? Tasteful? It’s cheap trash and it’s fun as hell. I don’t think readers at the time thought that these were in any way true. This is right along the lines of drawn hentai. So I think the flamer admitted despite themself that I did good.

“We’re stuck here in the middle of a war...we don’t have time for sex” – That’s right. But that fact doesn’t apply does it?

...reading trashy, porny magazines is not sex. It’s actually something you do when you can’t get sex for whatever reason. I would know. A lot of us would know. Apparently not the flamer. No one thinks that “hey, I got a chick/dude willing to bang right now...but the new issue of Men’s World is out! Can’t miss that!” Unless you have some serious fetishes that your partner is too weirded out by, I think this does indeed apply.

Then Jazz gets captured and lo and behold, Soundwave is revealed to be the Christian Grey of the story. I hope he has some maid outfits for Jazz.

...our flamer hits the sludgy bottom of the joke well and grabs their shovel. They do not try very hard for originality in their insults. And, while Grey was a jerk, Fifty Shades wasn’t quite a prisoner of war scenario. No, that was a cheap romance for chicks. I’m writing more akin to men’s...oh.

The flamer is a chick.

Their only bdsm or bad romance experience is with Fifty Shades.

I don’t think they read much.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnd we have a shower scene. Damn if it’ll be Carrie!

Iiiiiiiiiiiii did not write a shower scene?

Dudette, did you even do the reading you say you did?

There’s no point in adding moral ambiguity, especially in regards to Soundwave. He won’t be swayed easily, or at all, by Jazz’s speech. He’s cold hearted for a reason. He serves the Decepticon cause until the very bitter end. He’s a lot like Shockwave that way. Highly doubtful he would find meaning or even the relevance of writing pornographic fanfiction, but eh, this was never meant to be serious, was it?

...no. It’s a humor fic. The flamer is criticizing a humor fic for being humorous. Kudos for identifying the genre? I mean, the flamer is also complaining that I did not write Soundwave as a one-dimensional factionalist without examining what that means for him and how the mission creep has left the original political crusade behind. It’s not like I took pieces of Soundwave from Gen1, IDW, and the comics and blend them all together.

This reminds me of the fanboys in the TMNT fandom who keep pushing for every iteration to simply rehash their nostalgia boner for the original toon. I feel like I’m getting the Transformers version of wanting less of this:

because it isn’t the familiar characterizations of this:

“So what’s the down low?” – You, Jazz. You’re going to give the down-low to Soundwave. I can’t wait to read how shiny his robo-vagina is.

...wow. Classy there, flamer. Also I really don’t think they read anything. This whole fic is plug n’ play. There’s exchanging of cables, talk of code and positronic souls and sparks and revving engines. There isn’t a drop of sticky, spike, or fluids.

Chapter 15’s sex scenes bore me. Nothing is worse than having a guy ask to remove every bit of clothing. Just do it already! And why is Jazz a virgin? Come on!

Look--the thing about sex and fetish and whatever revs your engine is that it’s not going to rev everyone’s engine. You don’t like the type of interfacing here? Fine. I don’t like those kind of sex scenes in my porn either. But I wasn’t write that scene for porn. I wanted write warbuild Jazz dealing with violent subroutines while interfacing with Prowl. I had fun with it.

Why is Jazz a virgin? The previous 15 chapters discuss that.

I really don’t think the flamer read the fic.They scanned for anything remotely sexual, so I don’t think I’m going to take anything they say about this fic being ooc for perversion’s sake.

“Everyone here is damn pervy” – In which a character talks about the author.

“We gotta get Soundwave to finish writing his story” – Why? I mean, what’s the point? It’s not doing anything for them, unless it’s to show how castrated Soundwave is. I’ve seen him act better in Mary-Sue fics.

There is a whole plot about Starscream and Skyfire, and I thought I could trust the readers to be intelligent enough to make the leap with the parallels between Soundwave and Jazz.

This is literally the only review that questions why Jazz said that.

The Mary Sue shot just echoes the Fifty Shades swipe. I think this flamer did most of their flames roughly ten years ago--the insults are pretty dated.

The Decepticons don’t know about Ratchet? Why? I mean, he’s one of the oldest dudes there. He has a reputation. When you have a reputation, people know about you. It’s inevitable. I think your inner logic slips a lot.

At this point, I literally have 21 previous chapters of world building.

I am not surprised that the story’s logic was slipping away from one of us.

It’s funny to read the forum responses in the story. It’s like the author is trying to make fun of detractors yet ends up making fun of herself.

Okay, this part is hilarious for a reason only briefly noted in the fic. I think that the only things this can refer to are the comments from the chapter titled Flames of the M4gn1f1c3ntSkyPr1nc3--because those are literally the first flames/comments I put in the fic. And I didn’t write them!

My wife wrote them! I don’t write Starscream well but she just poured those out like water--she’s seen more of the hysterical side of fandom, particularly the earlier TF fandom, and I snipped out pieces for the fic.

So...I mean, we’re pretty happily married, so I don’t think she counts as a detractor. ^___^ Ultimately I started writing this fic for her.

“Your optics make me crazy” – Not at all a cliché.

Good thing I didn’t write that, then. Here is that little section in the Prowl/Jazz section. (Took me a bit to find it since I plugged that into the Find and couldn’t bring it up.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I like what you do to me. Jazz allowed him in, tilting his helm. I never really understood it, y'know? How mechs could lower their guard so much. Let someone this close.

And now? Prowl drew back, wanting to see Jazz for the answer. With a quiet ping, he warned the other mech even as he raised his hand, touching Jazz's visor.

I still think you're crazy always going on about my optics, Jazz said, venting even as he disengaged the locks and let Prowl gently remove the blue polycarbon.

Your optics are perfection, Prowl corrected him. And you let me see them. Hundreds of mechs wondering what's under that visor, but I get to see.

Still shy about letting someone else see them, Jazz turned his head, only for Prowl to touch his cheek and turn him back, coaxing his optics to open with a soft brush of his thumb.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not bad for an asexual, I think. I mean, it’s not like I have a ton of hands on experience, being kinda broken that way. But I have read plenty of pulp magazines and pulp radio shows!

This didn’t take long. I skimmed through this work, because there was so little content. Lots of ridiculous shit, though. Soundwave writes fanfiction, the Autobots are weirded out/turned on, capture Soundwave, Soundwave realizes that his whole life was a life and decides to defect. Yeah, about that. He wouldn’t do it lickety split, let alone EVER. Hell, the reactions in the forum bits show what some would think of this, if they weren’t too busy fapping.

The funny thing is I don’t think the mechs can even fap. I don’t write them doing that. But yes, flamer, I do believe that you skimmed through the work. Particularly since you’ve recounted it backwards...Soundwave captures Jazz as the capstone to a long internal conflict within himself, but rather than go through chapters of internal monologue and Decepticon politics, I started the story as close to the inciting action as possible, not quite in media res.

I won’t hash out why Soundwave defects. I mean, I spent 22 chapters at that point explaining it. But it’s my fault the flamer skimmed, I guess?

Needless to say: the romance bored me senseless. It was poorly written, and overall there’s really no skill attached to this. You don’t grip the audience and Jazz’s virgin mode made me roll my eyes. Reads like a first-time waifu manga.

Nah.

I’ve been writing way too long and am more than self-aware enough of my own failings that I’m also pretty self-aware of my own strengths, too. And no. It’s not poorly written. I definitely feel I could improve the first few chapters a bit, but that’s because I wrote those over five years ago and I’ve improved since then, too.

Empty insults. Maybe if the flamer had gone so far as to give a critique beyond a couple of misquoted lines and their own headcanons, I might have listened, but there’s literally nothing of substance here beyond a child tantrumming that I’m stupid and bad and should feel bad.

As for the other pairings, booooooooooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring.

Usually I have a fun time setting these fics on fire, but this one bored me senseless. Yes, it was stupid, but the author’s attempt to authenticate it are just as sloppy as anything else.

“Authenticate”?

Is this person talking about using fandom tropes as my setting?

There are 22 chapters at the time, and now 51 chapters, building up this world and using roughly 20 years of fandom background to inform the fic.

Maybe if they hadn’t skimmed, they might have found something interesting. But considering that they skimmed over anything character related and stopped for the sex scene--I don’t think that says anything about my writing and more about their own proclivities.

They were trying to read one-handed. A plug n play fic. A long meta look at fandom in war in a humor fic. And they came here for the sexy times.

I don’t have to draw the conclusion here, do I? Well, for the flamer, probably. And then they’d glance at it for a second, call it sloppy, and say I showed nothing, and what I showed was boring, and that boring stuff was ooc anyway.

One thing I am thankful for is the fact that it is not long.

51 chapters later and I’m still not done.

Nothing’s worth remembering in this and I don’t need to tell you that these characters either act like simpering imbeciles, or are virginal waifus. All I’m missing is a senpai in the bed, some tissues, and some high quality lotion.

...why do they keep referencing gay human sex? I mean, I get it, they’re saying that it’s similar to yaoi fics, but.

This is anti-yaoi with its last hurrah, isn’t it? The late 90s, early 2000s, rising from its sludgy well to try to shame the easily cowed and intimidated, the young writers easily startled by long lines of text. No wonder the citations used are so...15 years ago. I mean, who was talking about Sues even 5 years ago. That criticism kind of faded a long while ago, even then.

I think the sad thing is, even the badly written Sue sex fics end up being more interesting than this. If Ebony Darkness D’Mentia Raven Way were to come along, I think this story would get better. What with her ‘I shot him a gazillion times’ lines.

...and there’s the cherry on the top. Third cheap shot firing blanks. Sue + Fifty Shades +...shit, I can’t even remember the title for that infamous fic. It’s that old.

...this fanfic flamer is old.

Like, don’t get me wrong. We’ve got fandom moms and grandmoms who cut their teeth on fandom print zines in the earliest conventions. They’re not “old” in the same way.

This person has lost any joy, humor, or playfulness that fanfic comes from. No one should go into fanfic expecting fine art. I mean, sure, it happens sometimes, but this is a playground of pulp, experimentation and just plain childish fun.

All in all, not worth remembering. It’s makes me tired to read it. It’s not even stupid enough to make me laugh. You’ll still get a fail rating for me, especially with the shitty version of Soundwave here.

Yes, fanfic flamer. You are indeed tired.

He should be on Big Brother. He’d be great making soy lattés and purees.

Big Brother in 2015 was in its 17th season. There were roughly around 6 million viewers at the time. The demographics for the tv viewing audience were graying even by the 2000s, and by 2015-18, it was significantly older.

Granted, it’s a very tenuous conclusion to draw, but combined with the old fandom references, the anti-yaoi vibes I’m getting, and the fanboyish desire to curate their own headcanon of a character to the point of insulting writers on the internet...

Flamer grew from being a reader to a bitter, old person angry and the whipper snappers for writing stupid, trashy crap that they criticize with broad, unspecific insults.Flamer is the stereotypical mean adult in any 90s cartoon or heavy metal rock video.

A little depressing. Poor flamer. I do hope they found more creative, engaging, and positive things to do.

Me? I just wanna rock.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk on pulp fiction and bitter cultural creators.

[jbuffyangel]

A Better Future: Arrow 7x15 Review (Training Day)

Look out for Episode 7x15!!! She came out dancing like, “Nobody puts Baby in a corner!” 

There are so many goodies I don’t know where to start. Well, obviously I know where to start. We’re going to obsess over every detail.  But first, I must ask if anyone survived the 7x16 promo? Cause I didn’t. This is Ghost Jen.

Let’s dig in….

Olicity

This pregnancy is waaaaaaay more fun now that Oliver knows. Seriously this episode is straight out of fanfiction.

Oliver mostly just wants to feed Felicity things I can’t even pronounce. 

What the heck is a tartine and who sautés broccolini? You know what? I don’t even care. Oliver can cook whatever he wants as long as he’s naked. Yes, those are the marital provisions. You may turn to page 21 in the marriage contract if you need proof. It’s in bold.

Source:   olicitygifs

See guys? We’re not the only ones quietly unnerved by fully-realized-Jesus-like-superhero Oliver. He’s giving Felicity the wiggins too. 

When was the last time Oliver took orders from anyone? Nope. You can’t say Felicity. She’s the wifey and pregnant. I feel extremely confident if she asked Oliver to nuke a country he’d do it and then roast her a turkey over the fires of destruction.

Oliver is going the extra mile with the SCPD because he wants the partnership to be legitimate for “our baby.”  

Is there anything sexier than Oliver talking about the incubating human he put in his wife? NOPE THERE IS NOT. 

First time I died. Yes, we’re numbering it.

Immediately, Oliver mentions William and his reasoning for listening to the SCPD’s buffoon orders is understandable. 

Oliver missed out on ten years of William’s life and being a vigilante hasn’t made their present day relationship any easier. Re: William got the hell out of dodge and is living with the most evil grandparents in the world. Come on. We know they are kinda evil. WHO ERASES A FATHER’S PHONE MESSAGE? At the very least they are hyper helicopter grandparents, which is a hop, skip and a jump away from Evil Town.

Oliver is extremely glass half full right now. 

I guess this is what happens when THE PRINCESS THAT WAS PROMISED is about to arrive. I love Felicity’s mildly exasperated expression as Oliver’s waxes poetically about this partnership. Listen girl, you turned him into this big pile of mushy rainbows. Not us.

Source: olicitygifs

Does anyone else scream, “SPOILER ALERT: EVERYTHING IS AWFUL IN THE FUTURE!!!” every time Oliver talks about making the city safe for their children, so they can live in Star City and be happy? No? Just me? The dude deserves a heads up. The writers sure aren’t giving him one. It’s like salt in an open wound whenever Oliver dreams of Star City becoming Disney World 2.0. WRONG SHOW OLIVER. 

This is the show where the writers bludgeon us with misery and only give us joyful moments as a brief respite from our pain and sorrow.  

Too bitter?

Felicity gets on board with the glass half full approach because ain’t nothing cuter than her man being all sunshine and rainbows.

  Source: olicitygifs 

After all, they are a team within and team. Then comes all the smooching and we’re only in the first 5 minutes. Second time I died.

Oliver totally looked at Felicity’s stomach when she said she didn’t want anyone knowing about what’s happening “in here” and his little amused smile was so much I cannot.

Felicity’s right about mum’s the word and not because they are vigilantes, although that is a thing. It’s best to wait until the first trimester is over before making any big announcements.  

Source:  oliverxfelicity

Oliver agrees, Felicity actually says, “Yay,” and then asks him to make her a tartine.

Source: smoakmonster

Starving and nausea sum up my first trimester too, girl. Third time I died.

Felicity pregnant ratchets up her adorable factor by at least 80%. 

Source:  felicitysmoakgifs

This woman breathes and I’m like

I also love how Oliver is the only person who knows why her rambling is so extra and reels her in. Team within a team is damn right.  

The SCPD pours out Oliver’s half full glass because they are annoying and stupid. The team needs to adhere to protocol or else. Ugh why do we have to listen to the cops? They don’t have cool toys.

Felicity convinces Oliver they simply need to show the SCPD the Team Arrow way and they’ll stop with all the red-tape-need-actual-evidence-court-of-law nonsense.

It sounds good, particularly coming from Felicity. I’m at the same point as Oliver. I think this woman could tell me the sky is purple and I’d rock some “Purple Rain.”

If Arrow wants do a show where Oliver cooks for Felicity while she shares all her pregnancy symptoms as they smooch and be adorable in their little incubating love nest I would be completely fine with that because it's Emmy award winning television.

Source: oliverxfelicity

Why does the show have to be over? It’s perfect. Fourth time I died.

Olicity continues with their team within a team approach and decide to bring James Midas in on their own. They do it the old fashioned way. (HAHAHA that sounds dirty. Sorry. I’m a 10 year old trapped in a 37 year old body.) Oliver goes full on growly, burly man in leather and threatens to melt Midas’ face off in a tub of hydrofluoric acid. Stephen Amell’s facial reactions are hysterical. Oliver is almost bored like, “Come on, come on, I have tartines to make and a baby to name.” 

Source: @smoacs

Felicity records the confession while complaining about people like me who don’t click update. I’m perfectly fine with bae owning my ass. Fifth time I died.

But the mayor cuts Midas loose because his confession was coerced. Is that a thing we care about on Arrow now? I guess we’re doing the whole Miranda rights, due process, warrants, evidence, chain of custody thing. Huh. So… how’d they prosecute all the other criminals for the last seven years? 

I’m also willing to venture the mayor is slightly evil if she’s big buddies with a guy like Midas. WHO FUNDED HER CAMPAIGN?

Uncle Diggle is wondering why his OTP is going rogue, so he swings by for a little chat. His Yoda senses are on high alert. 

This is why they had to make Diggle normal again. Pod Diggle would never suss out an Olicity pregnancy. I love how Oliver and Felicity are all, “WE AREN’T TELLING ANYONE,” and then Diggle shows up, asks one question, and they fold. 

You can’t lie to Yoda. Thems the rules.

Diggle ships this ship harder than anybody else. He practically willed this child into existence. 

Source: oliverxfelicity

It’s possible he’s more excited than Oliver when Felicity tells him the news. The “we’re having a baby” absolutely includes John Thomas Diggle too.  Sixth time I died.

We have to go over this moment in particular because @lyricalarrow​ mentioned it in a tweet and I cracked up because it is so true.

Where is the lie? Oliver looks at the ground, crosses his arms, and shuffles his feet whenever he feels shy or bashful.  It’s like he’s a little embarrassed Diggle knows they have sex.

Meanwhile, the hot little mama over there with her hip wiggle is more than comfortable letting Diggle know his boy knocked her up. Hilarious perfection.

Honestly, I understand Oliver’s reaction here because I felt the same telling my parents I was pregnant. They high fived, but I was a little embarrassed there was physical evidence of my sexual activity with my husband. It’s cool. I feel confident they decided my daughter was the Immaculate Conception. Everyone is very comfortable with that story.

This announcement also leads to Diggle’s rapid understanding of why Oliver and Felicity are acting like they are on a clock, because THEY ARE ON A CLOCK. Their child will be born into Disney World come hell or high water. THY NAME IS OLICITY AND THY WILL BE DONE!

Like I said, it sounds good on paper, but Diggle comes prepared with logic. Oliver and Felicity understandably have baby on the brain, but they aren’t thinking their rogue plan through. It’ll work for a little while, but then Oliver will land in Slabside again. Yeah, I don’t want to go back to Slabside. I want to keep doing all the baby stuff. Whatever keeps us doing the baby stuff is the plan I favor.

The truth is if the Team Arrow way worked 100% then Star City would be saved. Same goes for the SCPD. Yes, let us casually ignore the writers will not allow the city to be saved until the final episode because that’s just details. What needs to happen is a combo approach. Ya know like an actual partnership.

Diggle: You have to find a way to make it work. Comprise. Do whatever you have to do because if you want a new future for this baby of yours it won’t come by doing the same thing we used to do. We have to be something else. Something better.

Is this the first time Diggle has said the, “Be something else” line?” I feel like it is. If so, it’s a momentous occasion. Every part of the OTA trio has officially given a “Be Something Else” speech. Jeez, this show really is ending isn’t it?

After saving the day while working in partnership with the SCPD, Team Arrow reconvenes in their home away from home. BUNKER IS BACK BABY!!!!!!!!!!! Thank goodness. I am so sick of the police department. It lacks flair. 

The team wants to grab a beer to celebrate, which feels like the first time this suggestion has ever happened other than Diggle and Oliver tossing back some vodka or scotch. What’s with all the alcohol? Cause Felicity is pregnant, and these writers want to create as many situations as possible where it can be referenced. 

I honestly think Oliver just went to the bar to keep the cover. Cue super sweet winking. 

Source: lucyyh

Seventh time I died.

Diggle isn’t done being amazing. I MISSED HIM SO MUCH Y’ALL.  He brings Felicity ginger candies to help with the morning sickness. In my fic “Broken Pieces” it was saltine crackers. Seriously, how many of us have written fics where A) Diggle figures out Felicity is pregnant and B) he helps her with the morning sickness because he learned a few things while Lyla was pregnant?

Yeah that’s what I thought. Nobody gets to tell me this episode isn’t straight out Olicity Ficville. I. LOVE. IT. Eighth time I died.

He also stokes the Smoak Tech fires by complimenting Felicity on her technology and generally being a total bad ass while pregnant. 

SEE? SHE CAN DO BOTH PEOPLE. 

Hold up. Rewind. Is that my girl shading Curtis Holt?

HAHAHA! YES IT IS!!!!!!!!!!! THIS EPISODE IS AMAZING!!!!!

We know this DNA security program she’s developed is what eventually becomes the Archer program, so I am very curious to see how it gets up and running. 

Source:  felicitysmoakgifs

I think one word from Diggle is all it’s going to take.

FELICITY ASKED OLIVER IF SHE’S SHOWING. THE WRITERS HAVE KILLED ME DEAD EIGHT TIMES ALREADY? WHAT IF I ONLY HAVE NINE LIVES? MAYBE I’M REALLY A CAT!!!!! 

Source: olicitygifs

Honestly, they’ve nailed the first trimester: nausea, starvation, exhaustion, and wondering if you’re showing when you are absolutely nowhere near showing. Ninth time I died.

And then… Felicity wants to talk baby names. Cue hyperventilation. 

Yeah yeah yeah I know we know the baby’s name BUT THEY ARE GONNA TALK ABOUT IT GUYS. That’s a whole other thing. 

Oliver had names picked out pretty much since this moment. 

This is the face of man naming his babies while staring at his future baby mama.

So, I’m really excited Felicity broached the subject first. She’s been dreaming about little Olivers and Felicities too. She’s just been a little calmer about it instead of My Face Is My Feelings over here. 

I am still a firm believer in triplets because it gives us more name permutations, but whatever the writers didn’t listen to me and I won’t get greedy. So here we go. It isn’t going to be a boy so Felicity can name the boy whatever she wants.

LUCAS? SHE PICKED LUCAS? 

Why not Tommy or Robert or the plethora of other dead male characters on this show? Lucas is a fine name I guess. Makes me think of Lucas from One Tree Hill, which is equally awful and wonderful. (His character was a mess. Don’t blame me for Lucas Scott being a mess.) Or Luke Skywalker who is also equally a mess. My husband’s cousin is named Luke. He’s an awesome guy. Lucas works. Okay. Lucas. Do we call him Luke? I like Luke.

What say you Twitter?

OH MY GOSH I LOVE LUCAS SO MUCH.  Tenth time I died.

P.S.: This is why you don’t tell people your names until after the kid is born and you slapped it on the birth certificate.

Source: olicitygifs

Oliver immediately signs off on Lucas (re: see nuclear bomb analogy). Hell, if Felicity wanted to name the kid Malcolm, Slade, The Demon’s Head, Damien, Adrian or Ricardo I think he’d still sign off.  He might even go for Al Sah-him Jr. The boy is gone okay? Oliver made a baby with his woman and life is amazing. Eleventh time I died.

I love how Oliver tries to pretend like he just thought of a name for a baby girl.

Boy, you’ve been spinning out names in that brain of yours every night while you sharpen your arrows. You fool no one sir.

There’s a significant pause before Oliver says the name. He has given this a lot of thought. When he speaks again it’s in the same sweet, gentle and quiet tone he uses for Felicity. Since the beginning, Oliver has instinctively softened his voice around Felicity. It was a way to reassure her; to show she is always safe with him. 

But his rage and pain are tempered now. The edges have been softened after seven years of loving this one woman.  

Yet, this voice remains almost like a whisper because of how much Oliver feels and the depth he loves. It’s almost overwhelming. 

This voice is Oliver at his most earnest and vulnerable. 

This is the Oliver only Felicity gets to see. 

He’s better at talking about his emotions now. It’s taking a lot of practice and learning, but the voice remains the same. This is how Oliver Queen speaks when the words matter the most.  

His special Felicity’s voice is also his special Mia voice.  Twelfth time I died.

DID I SAY HER NAME WAS MOIRA? .

YES I DID. Thirteenth time I died.

Felicity’s reaction is perfection because Moira is a slightly controversial choice given her relationship with Oliver’s mother and he knows that.  

Sweet and fiery describes all the important women in Oliver’s life- the ones he’s loved the most. These women love deeply and fight fiercely. 

Moira

Thea

Felicity

Mia

It describes Oliver as well. There is a gentle bear 

underneath the raging bull. 

This girl is Smoak, Kuttler, Dearden and Queen. And she’s amazing. 

Oliver and Felicity’s baby girl seems destined to become a hero in her own right. Someday Oliver and Felicity will make a better and safer Star City for their children. Maybe they’ll save the city with their children.

Source: olicitygifs

Fifteenth time I died. We haven’t even gotten to the promo yet. Probably not a cat, so I’m totally screwed.

Flash Forward

QUEEN SIBLING TEAM UP!!! Did anyone get major Bratva vibes during these scenes? I sure did. It’s in the blood kids! 

Mia and William make the perfect team because they are (seemingly) opposites, but underneath the surface have a lot in common. RING ANY BELLS?

It doesn’t hurt they are basically the familial and platonic reverse of Oliver (Mia) and Felicity (William). Mia is the bad ass from the streets and William is the computer wizard with a whole lotta money. But William is a fighter as well and Mia is extremely smart. Time for some sibling bonding.

They are in search of the mini cassette player, so they can listen to Felicity’s messages. Mia tells William to stay put, but of course he doesn’t listen. Pro tip Mia: The elder sibling will never listen to you even when they should listen to you. Curse of being the youngest. Get used to it.

William procures a mini cassette player after haggling over price. Five hundred dollars??? I’m seriously going to look in the garage for one of those things. In twenty years it might make some bank. Unfortunately, William is scammed like Mia warned and he loses the tape. His plan for getting the tape back, however, works and Mia knocks the lights out of the guy who scammed her brother. I love these two so much. They are sibling perfection.

There’s a lot of mutual appreciation. Mia realizes her brother is a genius aka Mini Felicity and William realizes his sister is Mini Oliver. 

It’s a really beautiful moment as William stares at her because it’s been about twenty years since he’s seen his father. She is the closest William has been to Oliver and vice versus.  

But Mia thinking “You have failed this city” is a dumb will never not be funny.

Source:  oliverxfelicity

It’s difficult for William to hit play on the cassette because it’s been 20 years since he’s heard Felicity’s voice and there’s a fair amount of apprehension about what she’s going to say. 

Source:  feilcityqueen

Mia gives William the strength to hit play.  It reminded so much of all the times Oliver and Felicity gently and lovingly supported each other simply by touching hands, particularly in the beginning of the burgeoning partnership and friendship.

Oliver refused to show any feeling while Felicity wore her heart on her sleeve. They took all the best parts of this beloved couple and put them in their children.

Hearing Felicity’s voice in the flash forwards made me cry and I just need her in this timeline already. She spent twenty years avoiding ever saying William and Mia’s names in the same sentence. 

You don’t keep your two precious jewels in the same location. I think it’s safe to say this is the strategy Oliver and Felicity were using.

Are there plot holes with the whole William side of things? Sure. It wasn’t a secret he was Oliver’s son. The kid was photographed. You can easily find out his last name is Clayton and his grandparents aren’t exactly living off the radar. Arrow is either going to have an answer for all these little factoids or they’re gonna blow right past them and leave them in Plot Hole Land.  

Source: felicitysmoakgifs

But the bigger picture is Oliver and Felicity kept their children apart for a reason. I found it very interesting Felicity said this was a decision they made together. So whatever separation is coming, it was as much Oliver’s choice as it was Felicity’s.

She reads off some coordinates and orders the children not to look for her, which they promptly ignore. I loved Oliver and Thea’s relationship, but I am enjoying Mia and William’s even more. There’s a humor and banter that was missing between Oliver and Thea. Sure, there was the occasional teasing, but it was mostly fighting or crying with the original Queen siblings. It’s fine. It’s what the situations called for and Stephen and Willa acted the hell out of those scenes. It feels like the writers are trying to have more fun with William and Thea. They banter really showcases each actors’ comedic talent too, particularly Ben Lewis.  

Mia recognizes the coordinates because it’s inside The Glades. Katherine McNamara tweeted out the perfect reaction because Mia’s tone is very “The North Remembers.”  So winter is here friends and we’re going over the wall!

The mere existence of these children is a promise for a better future.  I am choosing to remain optimistic about what Oliver and Felicity said. A hero’s journey has to start somewhere. William and Mia’s first act of heroism may very well be saving their parents.

Source: olicitygifs

Team Arrow

Team Arrow being bored to tears and wiping the floor with the SCPD is the realest this show has ever been. 

Oliver body slams a fellow officer as a way of “defusing the situation.” Rene puts a gun together at lightning speed and Felicity looks so bored with the tech she’s about to smash her head into a computer.

A significant reason Star City is a crappy place to live is because the police aren’t putting up a strong line of defense. The SCPD’s antiquated procedures hindering the capturing of criminals shocks no one. If things worked at the police department the city wouldn’t need Oliver Queen, his team of bandits, and all their amazing toys. I’ve put up with this Oliver as a police officer for several episodes now, but I draw the line at no suit and no arrows. Screw that. 

Dinah is full speed ahead on being captain and draws a hard line in the sand with the team, which of course proves to be disastrous. The reason she is all in on Captain Drake is because she lost her cry and doesn’t feel she can be Bl*ck C*nary anymore. When did the C*nary Cry become a prerequisite? 

Sara never had one and we were well into Season 3 before Cisco put that choker around L*urel’s neck. Relax Dinah.

Rene gets in Dinah’s face and defends Oliver because she’s being a b-i-t-c-h. 

DID Y’ALL HEAR THAT? RENE DEFENDED OLIVER!!!!! Rene being tolerable, logical and borderline likable is almost as shocking as Zen Oliver.

Oliver apologizes for going rogue. He always apologizes first. We’re taking baby steps with the Newbies. Not everything can get better all at once. Patience. But then DINAH ALSO APOLOGIZES and she acknowledges she was way too hard on Oliver. Umm… hooray! But for real what is happening to this show right now? Everything is amazing.

Oliver FINALLY tells the team to “suit up” and I realized how long it’s been since he’s been the one to say it. The joy of Curtis Holt being gone will never abate. Speaking of Curtis, it feels like a massive difference now that the team is back to four in the field and Felicity in the bunker as Overwatch. God, I missed Overwatch. The trimming of Team Arrow was a smart move for many reasons and I think a five member team is the max capacity this show can handle. Dropping Curtis like the dead weight he is was a fantastic move.

Since Team Arrow is all about the legal now, Felicity hacks whatever SCPD has access to (they aren’t completely in the Stone Age) and it’s all admissible in court. The rest of the team secures evidence and arrests in partnership with the police, which mostly looks like the SCPD rolling in after Team Arrow has done all the work. I don’t really understand how the criminals Team Arrow captured were prosecuted before all this, but whatever. 

I’m just happy the team is back in the bunker with their suits, they are the official black ops of the police department, and the mayor is repealing that stupid anti vigilante law. HELLO MY SHOW I HAVE MISSED YOU.

Bl*ck S*ren and Emiko

The “Training Day” writers didn’t check off everything on my wish list. They were close, but unfortunately BS did not kill Diaz. I still think it would’ve been awesome, but it’s okay. You win some and you lose some. I think it’s safe to say our fandom is winning just plenty.

Ben Turner aka Bronze Tiger witnessed Diaz’s murder while he was in solitary and it was someone wearing the Green Arrow suit, which means Emiko. In exchange for this information BS allows Turner to see his son – Connor, his “little hawk.” 

I already love this backstory so much more than the one Connor had on the Legends of Tomorrow episode. Connor being Lyla and Diggle’s adopted son makes more sense to me than JJ taking on the random name of Connor Hawke. 

BS confronts Emiko and the whole conversation is hysterical hypocrisy.

Bl*ck S*ren:  You’re lying about who you really are. You’re not a hero.  

STEAL ANYONE’S IDENTITY LATELY L*UREL? I can never decide if the writers are blatantly obtuse in regards to L*urel’s character (any version) or if this is somehow a tongue and cheek/wink wink kind of thing. 

It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is I’m fairly certain BS just got Ben Turner killed. 

It’s not going to take Emiko and Dante very long to figure out how L*urel came upon this information. 

Holy hell lady. Keep your trap shut while you investigate someone. Didn’t you learn anything in law school? OH WAIT THAT’S RIGHT YOU DIDN’T GO!

Since Turner saved Lyla’s life once I believe they’ll adopt Connor as a way of paying it forward. They also can’t let a kid that adorable go. I just want to smush his face.

This also makes Felicity pickle in the middle. Oliver will of course believe Emiko over Bl*ck S*ren and Felicity will have to choose between the two. I’m actually way more interested in seeing how Felicity reacts than I am anything else, so once again BS services her storyline. Suits me just fine.

THE PROMO

I was sick on Monday (hence the delayed review), so my husband didn’t wake me up for Arrow. The nerve of him, I know. So, when I started watching I was about 40 minutes behind and @callistawolf​ told me to call her after because she was hyperventilating. I was very careful while tweeting not to read any other  tweets. So, when Mia said they were going over the wall I thought, “Calm down Cal. It’s not that big of a deal – HOLY SHIT IS THAT A LOVE CABIN?”

THE. PROMO. KILLED. ME. The other fifteen times brought me to the edge and the promo shoved me off the cliff.  Don’t mourn for me my friends. I had a good life and it was a good death.

This promo is proof the CW can actually put together great marketing for this show. They just choose not to 99.99% of the time, but at least 7x16 can join the truly great promos of 3x01, 3x20, 4x01 and 5x20.

We hear Felicity screaming as the camera pushes in on the cabin and down the hallway into the bedroom where she is delivering their child. The first image we see of Oliver and Felicity is their hands. Oliver is holding on tight as his wife struggles through labor.

Source: olicitygifs

I remember when I used to hyperventilate over a mere shoulder or hand touch.

Oliver and Felicity’s romance started in the quiet moments. 

Their love was in the details. 

This image of them holding hands, Felicity’s wedding ring brightly shining in the sun, as she brings Mia into this world is a powerful symbol of where their story began and what their love created.

The reason we wear wedding rings is because they are an endless circles. The commitment we are making with our spouse is forever.  We wear our ring on our fourth finger of our left hand because the Romans believed the vein in this finger lead directly to a person’s heart. Love is eternal. The focus on Felicity’s ring, her hand gripping tightly in Oliver’s, symbolizes Mia entering this endless loop of love where she will always be wanted, adored and safe.

Source: sansasnw 

Of course, Oliver and Felicity’s child is born in the bright sunshine of morning. We would expect nothing less. It’s always the light. This child is a new beginning for Oliver and Felicity.  A new life who can harness her parent’s light and shine her own upon all she loves.  I get emotional when I think about where Oliver’s story began. He was a lost soul who believed life was merely about survival and he didn't deserve one worth living for. And now…

Source:  olicitygifs

I’m sobbing at the promo y’all. I won’t make it through the episode. 

As for this moment...

This is my head canon until the show tells me different.

Source: olicitygifs

Stray Thoughts

Why does Bl*ck S*ren think Oliver and Felicity will be mad Emiko killed Diaz? Nobody is crying over that guy cutie. Oliver and Felicity came to my smore party. They brought the chocolate.

Mia couldn’t put the tape in. I’m still laughing. Katherine McNamara’s comedic timing is gold.

“This is private. Loophole.” Felicity being the most irritated she can’t do things illegally is so on brand.

Mini cassettes were around in the nineties too. Can we stop with the super aging of things, show?

I love Face/Off. Classic Travolta vs. Cage.

We haven't done a good old fashion gang war. After 7 years in a crime fighting show that feels a little odd.

Oliver and Felicity have their baby in a love cabin and many believe it is Ravenspure, which is the cabin Felicity was conceived in. I truly do not remember this detail from Season 4, but I know better than to question my peeps.

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 7x15 gifs credited.

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

[somewherenotcaring-blog]

I don’t know. Like, honestly… people would be so disrespectful towards football players whenever they like lost 7 to 30 like “7? 7!? You think somebody is going to support you, ha? STFU!” That’s why I always kept like my “is 16… 17… 18…” success to myself.  The first person I’d like to call out is Alyssa and her friends. “SITTING ALONE AT LUNCH. DISBELIEF RN. SOS. SEND HELP!” You’re parents’ taxes go towards supporting Shelby Township and Eisenhower. What really keeps these poor individuals in question from stomping on your purse? I mean, I wear my car to the grocery store… with friends… even to school…….. same one. Really don’t understand your need to take selfies of your spring break or your little trip to Cedar Point with like Ike kids. Their toilet has more money than you. When will you learn that when you touch such dangerous chemicals, THE ONLY PERSON WHO IS AFFECTED IS YOU? Especially with like this girl’s like 5,000 relationships. Like, dude, people are like, you know “i see what this LIKABLE individual posts online… Look over and see this girl buying followers AND CLAIMING TO BE A HAIRLESS CAT.” You want some sexually transmitted diseases or something?  Second person I wanted to call out (because yes I found enjoyment in calling both out at the same time) is Lydia. It’s like, why are you in my face, when I’m the only person doing ANYTHING REMOTELY PRODUCTIVE. Like, I’m sitting here posting this or doing that. You’re nonstop complaining, even once making a claim like “never been taken care of in my life. Recall her age.” Um… I’m not your mom. Blood of my blood…….. I’m the competition like “dude… I’m so ratchet… imma step on all of it and run away past the finish line.” Blood of my blood… get a life. NURTURES… is most definitely not how I would describe myself… nope….. nope….. ef off. Like, there has even been an occasion where I drove out of a dealership after a possibly fatal car accident… and a car almost drives into me. AND YOU WILL BE LINKED TO THAT OCCASION. You’re so pathetic. Like, I was just being very ill and black facing people throughout my illness…………… just being sick like that. B starts talking about myself being this poor, poor immigrant from EUROPE…….. how her super white family exited Germany during the world war. I told her to invest her money in the right cause………………………………………………… I was like “done… done… Kk… no comment…………”

[msbigredmachine]

Learning Lines 2 - A Samoa Joe Story

Cece takes Samoa Joe up on his offer. The sequel to Learning Lines. Samoa Joe/OC.

Comments will be greatly appreciated!

READ PART 1 HERE

The heat of the morning sun reaches me before the light does, warming my face through the cracks in the mini blinds, as though hinting at me to get my ass up already. Turning tiredly in my hotel bed, I fumble for my phone on the nightstand to check the time. Six in the morning. Usually I’ve already begun my day. It’s the first time on a working Monday I’ve allowed myself a lie-in after the hectic week that’s flown by.

I’ve been in Connecticut all week, cooped up in Titan Towers with the Creative team drafting the script for tonight’s Raw. After the home run I hit with Samoa Joe and Paul Heyman’s segment, I was rewarded with sole creative control of the rivalry between Brock and Joe, mandated by Vince. I’m overseeing the rest of the main event angle, which not only means all the attention is on me to produce a potential feud of the year, it means I’m going to have Samoa Joe on my agenda a lot more often now.

Not that I’m complaining.

An entire week has passed since my little…encounter…with Joe last Monday Night Raw, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. That night has dominated my every thought; the memories of his hands on me, his fingers inside me, his lips wrapped around mine are etched in my brain with a branding iron, it seems. His parting words as he left me in that office, prone and breathless, continue to swim in my head, the tantalizing promise still sending shivers down my spine:

“If you want more, you know where to find me.”

A week has passed and I’m yet to take him up on his offer. I haven’t even mustered up the guts to contact him yet, and being so busy has given me time away from him and a perfect excuse to avoid him. Although I miss him fiercely, miss his company, I know I need some space to collect myself and regroup after the way I surrendered to him with no questions asked. Experiencing his intensity first-hand was overwhelming. I all but drowned in him that night, and I need my head above water in order to think more rationally. I pride myself on making decisions based off facts and reality, not teenage fantasies and a starved sex drive. Sadly, when it comes to Samoa Joe, my heart and my body stop being rational with just one look at his fine-ass self.  

I stare at my phone, and for the millionth time I find myself torn between making the first move and stretching the tension further between us. I don’t think he’d have said what he said if he wasn’t genuinely attracted to me. And even knowing that fact blows my mind. I never imagined the great Samoa Joe would have ever looked at me twice, let alone have any sexual interest in me. My paranoia has been quick to point out on more than one occasion that my appeal only lies in what I can offer him career-wise, but he doesn’t strike me as the scheming type. Well, I have the chance to see him today as we’re all in this hotel, and I have some time to kill before I head to the arena. I do want to see him, but I can’t help but wonder; What will it be like when we meet again?

Sitting up in bed, I decide to rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with. Taking a deep breath, I open up my phone and send a quick text message.

Hi Joe. How u doing?

He doesn’t answer right away, but when he does, my heart leaps in a way it’s never leapt before.

Hey beautiful. I’m good. Been a minute. How r u?

Ah, a term of endearment. Things might not be so awkward after all. I forge on, encouraged. I’m good. U right, we shd meet up. Breakfast? Oh God. I hope he agrees. Now that I can finally look him in the eye, he better say yes.

Sure. I know a place by the hotel. I can text u the details and meet u there. 1 hour?

Oh wow. He agreed. Okay, then. I’m trying not to be too excited as I get ready. I pick an outfit that looks effortless yet glamorous. I style my hair and put on a little makeup. By the time I finish, Joe has texted me the name of the place we’re meeting. My heart is thumping like crazy. I’m a couple of minutes away from telling the man I’m crazy about that I want him. That I want whatever he’s offering. I’ve never been so nervous about anything in my life.

The restaurant is a five-minute walk from our hotel. I find Joe right away, seated in the far corner of the restaurant, busy with his phone. As I come closer to the table, he looks up and flashes me that sexy smirk of his. He stands up, and I drink him in. He looks damn good in that jacket and flat cap. Has it only been a week since we last saw each other?

"You look beautiful," Joe says to me, before his huge arms close around my waist in greeting.

"Thanks," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck. I love his hugs. They're big and generous and make me feel safe, protected, like I have a friend who truly cares for me. Change in our relationship or not, I'll never stop wanting his hugs.

The embrace lingers for a while, and when we finally pull away, I let my hands slide down to his chest briefly, my excuse to touch him some more. He pulls out the second chair for me and sits only after I do, being the gentleman that he is. I like how we’re seated; right beside each other instead of opposite. I get to be close to him this way, and right now that is all I want.

“I ordered breakfast already, hope you don’t mind,” Joe says, and right on cue a waitress comes over with a large tray. She sets it down in the middle of our table and walks away. My eyes immediately rake over the spread; pancakes, sausages, eggs, toast and fruit. “I definitely don’t mind,” I respond, and my stomach rumbles in agreement. Divine doesn’t even to begin to describe how good the food looks and smells. And my earlier nerves made me forget that I’m hungry as hell.

Joe takes a sip of his orange juice, watching me pour maple syrup over my pancakes. There’s a small smile on his face as he stares intently at me. Slightly unnerved, I speak up. “What?”

“I’ve missed you,” he says.

I return his smile, my heart warming at his declaration. “I’ve missed you too. I’ve been so busy lately with work. Haven’t really had time for much else.”

“Same here from my end,” Joe replies. “I’m glad you texted me though. I’ve been meaning for us to spend some time together. We haven't had a chance to talk about last Monday.”

Uh oh. The dreaded talk. Does he have regrets? “What about it?” I try to sound as casual as possible.

“I realized I was very forward with you that night. Too forward, I guess. It was disrespectful of me. I shoulda considered your feelings first but I didn’t, and I apologize for that.”

Damn. He does have regrets. But I don’t, and I need him to know that. “You don't have to apologize. I wanted it. I liked it,” I assure him, as he looks at me. “I just…I never imagined you thought of me that way. Didn’t think you were interested in me.”

But Joe chuckles, a deep, sexy timbre that stirs my loins, and he shakes his head. “Oh, trust me, baby, I've thought about you that way for months. Honestly? I've wanted to fuck you since I first laid eyes on you. Fantasized about making you mine in all the ways I know how. I still do.”

“Like dominate me? Make me submit to your will, right?” I ask, apprehension mingling with my desire as I glance at him.

He offers me a smile. “I know it’s not the most conventional thing to disclose to a lady you’re interested in. But yes.” His gaze remains intent as he gauges my reactions. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

I pick at my fruit salad with my fork. "Not at all. I think every woman likes a dominant man, especially in bed," I explain, “I’m no exception. The bedroom is the one place I enjoy giving up control, especially with a guy I trust.” Setting down my fork, I lean suggestively towards him. “Lucky for me, you’re a guy I trust.”

I watch as his eyes widen slightly, then darken a second later. “Yeah?”

I nod my head. “Mm-hmm. That’s why I decided to take you up on your offer from last Monday.” I bite my lip as I stare at him. “I want more, Joe. Whatever you want? I want it too.”

His eyes glow with relief. “I'm glad to hear that,” he whispers. “There’s so much I wanna do to you, things I know you’ll enjoy. But that ain’t all I’m about. We can do it however you want."

My mind is so full right now. He wants to have sex with me. He wants to use me for his personal pleasure. And my body is already steaming with anticipation. I want to please him, pleasure him, even if it means a little bit of pain is involved. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself on that aspect. “As long as it’s nothing over-the-top like that Christian Grey crap, I’m good. Don't tell me you're a Fifty Shades kinda guy,” I tease him with a grin.

“Hell no. Screw that Christian dude,” he scoffs, almost looking offended. “None of that written contract shit, and I definitely don't need no Red Room to get off either. All’s I need are these soup bones right here.” He drops his fork to raise his hands and flex his wrists proudly. I watch him for a moment, and then, boldly, I extend my hand, weaving my fingers through his. We both smile as he closes our fingers together and lifts my hand to his lips. We look at each other with heated gazes, and his lingers on my lips.

“Come to my room tonight,” he requests, his face subtly inching towards mine. “I got a few things planned for you.”

“Like what?” I inquire, briefly closing my eyes as I breathe him in.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he replies with a wink, hooking a finger beneath my chin as he looks into my eyes. His eyes flicker down to my mouth again. I know what he wants, and I’m going to give it to him to show my commitment to this thing we’re about to explore.

I lean over and press my lips against his, slowly sliding my hands over both sides of his face. I feel his large hand on my thigh, and I take things further by dipping my tongue into his mouth to taste him. The passion ratchets up a few more notches between us, and I'm almost desperate to drag him somewhere more private and ravage him.

Luckily Joe possesses far more control than I do, because he’s the one who breaks the kiss. His lips brush over my ear before he whispers, “We better stop, before I bend you over this table, pull up this pretty dress of yours and rail your sweet pussy in front of everyone in here.”

He makes it sound like I’ll object if he does. I’d have encouraged him if we didn’t face the threat of arrest for indecent public exposure, and that will be both our jobs in the toilet. So I restrain myself. Barely.

Kissing my cheek, he sits back upright and picks up his cutlery. “Eat up, sweetheart,” he says gruffly, gesturing towards my plate. “You’ll need your strength for tonight.”

And just like that, he’s gone into bossy Dom mode. Fuck. I want him so bad. I haven't gotten laid in so long, and if this guy I've been crushing on forever is willing to end my drought – however he wants – who am I to say no?

After breakfast, we manage to go our separate ways without incident. Joe heads off to the arena while I return to my hotel room. Walking inside, I find two boxes along with a bouquet of pink roses sitting on my bed. They weren’t there this morning. Even more baffling is that one box is labeled Agent Provocateur and is wrapped by a neat black bow. 

Curious, I open them both. The unlabeled box contains a high, scandalous-looking pair of heels. The Agent Provocateur box unveils a very revealing, very sexy lingerie set. There’s a written note on top of the box.

Wear these for me when you come over. The shoes too. Hair down, and no jewelry.

See you tonight.

--------------------

Midnight.

I’m standing outside Joe’s door, drawing the coat I’m wearing a little tighter around my body. How I made it up two extra floors without being seen by any of the wrestlers crawling around this hotel, I’ll never know. I’m just thankful I got here in one piece. The heels are high as hell, but if this is what Joe wants on me, then I’ll wear it. Between breakfast in the morning and our rather raunchy texting session all through this afternoon, discussing each other’s limits, I’m more than fired up for tonight. He's told me about what he likes and his fantasies and honestly, I’m nervous and excited about the feelings he will conjure in me. Wetness pools between my legs just imagining what is to come.

The door finally opens, and my breath catches as I lock eyes with the hulking man in front of me. The hotel room is darkened but I still notice the silk sheets on the king-size bed. He’s wearing a black dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, black slacks, and no shoes. His sideburns and beard are neater than they were this morning. He doesn’t say a word as he steps aside to let me in. I move to the middle of the room and stand still, and he remains silent, his arms crossed over his chest as his dark eyes trail my body. Then, his deep voice rumbles through the room.

“Nice coat. Take it off,” he orders.

Shit, we’ve begun. I comply as I reach for the belt at my waist. I unbuckle the belt and tug it off of me, then my fingers close over the top button of my coat. I keep my eyes firmly on Joe, my hands surprisingly steady as I unpluck every button one by one. I gradually open the coat, easing it off my shoulders and shrugging it down to the ground. I’m clad in the lingerie Joe bought for me; stockings, heels and all. My hair falls down my shoulders, just as he instructed. Though I’ve always been at ease with my body, I’m definitely not accustomed to wearing underwear like this. Joe clearly approves of the outfit though, judging from the way his eyes have darkened, and a shiver of gratification licks down my spine.

“You look amazing, baby girl,” he comments, circling slowly around me, like an animal observing his prey. “You like dressing like a slut, huh?”

My mouth has gone dry, and I don’t trust myself to speak. Swallowing hard, I look down at the floor.

“Hey!” Joe’s voice suddenly booms around the room, making me jump, and he gets right in my face. “You speak when you’re spoken to, and you look at me when I’m talkin’ to you. You hear me?”

I respond before I even realize I’m doing so. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he presses.

“Yes…Daddy,” I say, and I feel a sense of satisfaction when his eyes light up, clearly pleased with my response.

He smirks, eyeing me up and down again. “Good girl. Now get on your knees.”

Trembling slightly, I do as he says, descending as best as I can to the rugged floor. It takes me a moment while wearing such deeply heeled shoes, but eventually I make it. Thankfully, the rug feels shaggy and soft on my skin and it’s instantly soothing my knees. I bow my head and spread my hands over my thighs, I hear absolutely nothing but the pounding of my heartbeat.

“Tell me why you’re here, Cece,” Joe speaks again. “Tell me what you want from me.”

I have to swallow twice before I can muster enough of my voice to answer him. “I want to give myself to you tonight,” I tell him. My hands, which remain on my lap, are trembling now. My heels are digging into my thighs, getting me accustomed to the pain that may come tonight. “I wanna be your slut, your whore. I want you to use me. I…I need you, Daddy.”  I shouldn’t be saying stuff like this, but I know this is what I want so badly.

He takes in my words in silence, and I don’t know what he’s thinking. He very slowly drops down to my level. “Look at me,” he says, squatting to meet my gaze. “Are you afraid of me?”

Hearing it out loud sparks the truth out of me. “A little bit, Daddy,” I confess, “But I know you won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

“Good,” he says, and he brushes my hair out of my eyes. His touch on my skin sends shivers down my spine. He looks into my eyes. “Kiss me.”

I lean towards him and gently kiss his lips. He kisses me back, and I feel the moisture of his tongue slide into my mouth, soft and sweet, like his lips. He tastes so delicious. I am heady with need for him, and it scares me how vulnerable this man is making me feel. 

“Mm, you’re all mine tonight, Cecilia. Daddy’s gonna take such good care of you,” he whispers, still on his knees with me, gripping my face as he plunders my mouth possessively. Our tongues are feverish against each other’s, tremors rippling through my entire being as he runs his hands along my bare arms. Abruptly, he pulls away, both of us breathless as we stare at each other. Joe rises to his feet with rather agile skill, and he gestures at me.

"Get up."

"Yes, Sir." I manage to do so, my legs wobbling a little.

“Get on the bed and stay on the edge. Face down, ass up. Spread your legs and don’t move.”

I move to comply without a word. I climb into the bed, which feels incredibly soft beneath me. I stay on the edge and bend forwards, keeping my chest on the bed, and I spread my knees far apart. My toes curl in anticipation. Fear, even. It’s been a long time since I felt this way. It’s foreign and scary, yet so daring and uninhibited. And I know, I’ve always known, ever since he mentioned it last week, that there’s no one I’d rather surrender myself to like this, than Joe.

I feel him come up behind me, and I shiver a little as he stands between my legs. His hand caresses my back and then up my body towards my backside. “Damn, you’ve got such a nice ass, babe,” he comments, squeezing my cheeks with both hands. His fingers then hook my panties, and he pulls them over my hips and lets them rest at my spread knees. I hear his low growl as my ass hovers in the air, my pussy wet and open for him, every inch of my privacy in his full view. I've never been this exposed before. I feel so ashamed, and yet so powerful, all at the same time.

“Mm, your pussy’s so beautiful,” Joe praises, and that only sends more moisture flooding between my legs. My lust betrays any embarrassment I still harbor. His hand slowly slides past my asshole and onto my labia. He traces a finger across the nub of my clit, the delicate touch making me moan and tremble. Then, the finger slips right inside my vagina. He moves his finger in and out of me slowly, digging deep, making me gasp and writhe against him.

"Daddy…" I moan, my hips rolling restlessly. 

“I said, don’t move!”

Suddenly, his hand comes down on my ass in a hard smack, the sound cracking loudly through the room. I squeal, completely taken by surprise.

“Disobey me again and you’ll be punished,” he growls. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I stammer. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” He continues to stroke me, and he finds far less resistance from my body now. “Look at that. Your pussy’s wetter.” he says, his hand swatting my other ass cheek, and he chuckles as a shuddering moan slips out of me. “Getting your ass smacked turns you on, huh? My naughty little slut."

I feel him now, his breath, right on my sex. He starts to lick me there, and my knees give a little but I force myself back into position. His free hand is on my ass and he spreads my left cheek open while he licks my pussy. I'm gasping and groaning with pleasure; his tongue is so long and wide, covering every crevice I own. His fingers keep sliding in and out of me with ease, and I involuntarily squeeze down hard on them. The tight tension increases my pleasure, and without thinking I shift my arm under my body, reaching down between my thighs to stroke my clit. But Joe sees this and pushes my hand away.

“Hell no! Hands off the pussy. Ain’t nobody gonna make you come but me. Not when I’m with you. Understand?”

“Yes Daddy,” I pant, barely getting the words out before he resumes licking and sucking me. My eyes roll in the back of my head as the pleasure sweeps endlessly through me, and my face dips into the mattress to muffle the moans spilling out of my mouth. My hand involuntarily grazes my inner thigh again, and before I realize the mistake I’ve made, he steps away from me, and he doesn’t touch me again for seemingly an eternity. I can hear him walking around the room, some rustling and zipping sounds, before he speaks again.

“Need to do something about your wayward hands, baby.”

He appears in my line of sight, and when I look up at him, I inhale sharply. He’s stripped completely naked, and I’m almost face to face with his erection. His thick body looks so smooth, and his creamy butterscotch skin gleams in the dimness of the room. His length is not as long as I’ve imagined, but his girth exceeds my expectations. I feel my breathing get shallower, my mouth salivating for him.

Joe notices my reaction and smirks. “Like what you see, baby?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Yes Daddy.”

“You want this dick?” He grabs himself and strokes once, twice, and my lower body throbs.

“Uh huh.”

“You’re gonna get it, Cece. All of it. Real soon. Stretch out your hands.”

I obey, extending my arms over the sheets. He grabs my hands and cinches what looks like the belt from my coat around my wrists. Now I am at his mercy. I’m trapped, going nowhere unless he says so, and it sends a wanton thrill through me.

“You look so hot baby girl, spread out on my bed like this, all tied up, that pretty ass in the air, your pussy open and wet for me,” Joe praises me, his eyes darkening with lust, “I can’t wait to fuck you. I’ma pound that pussy till you’re screaming so loud you’ll wake up the entire hotel.”

He returns to his position behind me, I feel his huge hands on my hips, skimming up my body and over my belly. I gasp as he cups my lace-clad breasts, rubbing them in a slow, sensual massage. He shifts forward and presses his huge body against mine, and I groan as I feel his erection pushing against my backside. His chuckle is deep and raspy in my ear, and he slides my hair to the side so he can press his lips to my shoulder and neck. His legs brush the backs of mine as he stands back upright and grips my hips tightly, his dick flush against my pussy and ass. He grinds against my ass, making me feel how hard he is for me. His breathing is shallower, heavier, as is mine. He lets go of my hips and there’s a small tearing sound, a condom, if I’m not mistaken. Then, all of a sudden, his dick pushes into my pussy, and I groan out loud as he slides easily into me. For a long moment, he doesn’t move, and I whine impatiently when I feel his dick spasm a little inside me.

At long last, he starts to move, pushing deep inside me, and a long, loud moan escapes me when he fills me to my root. He holds my hips in a vice-like grip as he starts to rock against me, moving in and out of me slowly, pulling out a little further and then thrusting back in. I whimper, my fingers clutching the sheets as best as they can with my bound wrists. The feel of him sliding deep inside me is indescribable. My moans grow louder as he grinds himself into me, forcing me to take every inch of him.

"Fuck, Joe!"

"That’s right, you moan my name. Let ‘em all know who’s givin’ you this good dick." His hands are all over my ass, squeezing and tugging the supple flesh. He pulls back again, then slams inside me, buried to the hilt, and grinds into me some more.

“Shit!” I moan, my head falling forwards, my wetness increasing exponentially. “Oh my god, you’re so fuckin’ deep…”

“Whose pussy is this?”

"Yours, Daddy,” I spit out, crying out again when he smacks my ass.

“Yes, mine. Fuck, you feel so good, baby, so tight,” he rasps, pumping hard and fast into me now. “Take this dick. Take all this big dick," he urges me with a slap to my other ass cheek, and we both groan when I tighten around him in response. He yanks me upright, pressing my back flush against his body. His massive hand winds around my neck, and like the wanton slut that I am, I hum my appreciation.

“Yeah, you like that?” Joe asks huskily, “Like bein’ choked, you dirty slut?”

“Yes. Choke me, Daddy,” I plead, and he’s happy to oblige me, tightening his grip around my throat, and fuck it feels so good.

He turns my face towards him and presses my lower jaw, forcing my mouth open. He rolls his tongue between my lips and kisses me with a passion that melts me in his arms. With his other hand, he yanks my bra cups down and grabs my exposed breast. He pinches my nipple with his strong, rough fingers, causing me to moan into his mouth, the pain only fueling my pleasure. It’s like magic, his hands, his mouth, his dominance, and I’ve fallen under his spell.

“Daddy, please,” I beg, my mind in a million different places right now, “I need to come, Daddy. Make me yours, baby.”

My breathless pleas are music to his ears. With a hungry growl, he pulls my panties the rest of the way down my legs and climbs into the bed behind me. He uses his thick legs to pin mine to the bed, trapping me underneath him. He thrusts into me hard, and I scream and curse loudly at how deep he suddenly is inside me. He presses his hand over the back of my neck and pushes me further into the sheets, and I’m moaning with reckless abandon as he slams his dick into me over and over, my prone body shifting on the bed with every thrust. My arms, bound and outstretched in front of me, are starting to ache, but it’s nothing compared to the incredible sensations sweeping through me. I hear him grunt as he leans his body over mine, caging me in as he continues to fuck me hard from behind. I want to match his movements so badly, but he’s locked me in, trapping me in a deliciously animalistic way.

“Come for me, baby girl,” Joe gasps. He wraps my hair around his hand and gives it a sharp tug, forcing my head up. “Come on…”

“Fuck! Joe!” I whine as my body arches, my legs starting to shake. “Oh fuck, I’m fuckin’ coming!”

“Do it. Come for Daddy,” he commands.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to brace myself for impact. The orgasm rushes over me with incredible force, and I gush all over his dick. I’m weak, I’m spent, and I would have collapsed if Joe’s arms weren’t locked around me, holding me tight. He pumps inside me a few more times before he lets out this animalistic groan that I’ve never heard before, his face tucked in the crook of my neck as he pulses heavily inside me. He relaxes, finally, and his body sags against mine, both of us panting hard, struggling to recover. It feels like I’m in another world, but in a strange way, I feel more connected to this man than I've ever been to anyone else in my life.

Realizing he may be crushing me with his weight, Joe clambers off me. “Sorry,” he mumbles. He gently pulls out of me, and I instantly miss his weight on me, his manhood inside me.

He shifts above me to untie the bonds from my wrists. From there, he pulls off my shoes and tosses them to the floor, while I manage to dispose of my bra. I lay next to him and he curls me into his chest, running his hand up and down my back. "Cece, you okay?" he asks.

"Mmm-hmm..." I mumble against his throat, still on Cloud Nine.

"Answer me properly, babe."

"I'm fine."

“How was it for you?” he inquires, and the concern morphs into something else. The commanding, aggressive Dom is gone, and with the way he looks at me as he awaits my reply, it’s almost as if he’s seeking my approval, like he hopes he’s impressed me.

“It was amazing, babe.” I slide my hand up his chest, my voice a soft purr as I curl up against him, kissing his neck a few times. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Joe whispers, his fingers threading soothingly through my hair. “Perhaps we will play again sometime. Only a little less rough, and after a date or two, maybe.”

I look up at him, my heart racing at what he suggests. I watch as he brings my wrists up to his mouth and kisses each of them softly, rubbing the red marks that are starting to appear. The act is tender and unexpected, and as he gazes adoringly at me, a sensation far more intimate than lust, a feeling that has plagued me for months, threatens to overwhelm me again. I’m so tempted to put myself on the line, put my job on the line, for him. And I’m scared. Scared that he might still walk away in the end. Scared that this thing happening between us will only lead to my heart getting broken.

But I push all the negatives aside and settle for kissing him deeply, confirming once again, without words, that whatever he’s offering…I want it. I want this, I want him, in any way I can have him.

There are no certainties for the future, but for once in my life, that doesn't matter to me. I am happy at the possibility for more between me and Joe. Maybe I don’t need it all figured out beforehand. I don't have to worry about what may or may not happen. So I’m just going to see where this leads.

THE END.

-----------------

TAGGING:

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[sirgyrodegearloose-archive]

Really Long Character Survey

Rules: Repost, don’t reblog. Tag 10! Good luck!

Tagged by @themisfitmouse

Tagging: @genius-vondrake, @amadeus-aerinstat, @alphagearloose, @unclescrooge, @askflintheartglomgold, @thesmallestarchitect, @tempest-loupnoir, @the-queen-needs-us ...I can’t really think of two more people to tag who haven’t already been tagged by somebody else.

((Hoooo boy there's gonna be so many headcanons in this.))

BASICS.

FULL  NAME : Gyro Percival Gearloose

NICKNAME : Gyro, G

AGE : 28

BIRTHDAY : September 18th

ETHNIC  GROUP : Uh... chicken? I guess I kinda headcanon that he's got some Italian in him, but other than that, idek man.

NATIONALITY :  American

LANGUAGE / S : English (possibly others, but that's woefully all the mun is fluent in)

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION : Bi

ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION : Also bi 

RELATIONSHIP  STATUS : Single

CLASS : Uh... upper-middle, I guess? I mean, he's gotta afford all those parts somehow.

HOME  TOWN / AREA : Duckburg, Calisota

CURRENT  HOME : A workshop/barn on the south side of Duckburg, near the river

PROFESSION : Inventor/Repairman

PHYSICAL.

HAIR : It has never been consistent. Like... in DuckTales and the related comics, it's orange. In some of the old comics, it's light brown. In the Italian comics, it's bright blonde. I just... I have no idea, my dudes. Gyro's addicted to hair dye or something.

EYES : Blue

NOSE : He's a bird. He has a beak.

FACE : Uh... round? Covered in feathers?

LIPS : Again, he is a bird.

COMPLEXION : Pristine white feathers.

BLEMISHES : ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

SCARS : He's got a good few nicks on his hands, and probably a couple of other random scars from miscellaneous lab accidents, but nothing major. Plus, it's not as if you could see most of them anyway.

TATTOOS : None. 

HEIGHT : 5'5"

WEIGHT : Uh... I dunno, probably around 130-140? Gotta take into account that his bones are probably hollow.

BUILD : It varies. In some comics he's kind of plump, and in others, he's like a scarecrow. I'm gonna tentatively put him at athletic, with a little bit of a paunch? 

FEATURES : Big blue eyes, (usually) bright orange hair, slightly curved beak, glasses.

ALLERGIES : Blueberries, but he doesn't bring it up unless he has to.

USUAL  HAIR  STYLE : He basically just rolls out of bed and runs his fingers through it a couple times.

USUAL  FACE  LOOK : Lost in thought

USUAL  CLOTHING : Hat (with chin strap), button up shirt (usually pink, red, blue, or yellow), open black vest, jeans or khakis, work boots.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : Failure, mostly.

ASPIRATION / S : He wants to discover as much as he can, for discovery's sake. To do things before believed to be impossible just to say he did.

POSITIVE  TRAITS : Generally cheerful, independent thinker, kind, clever, creative

NEGATIVE  TRAITS : Easily frustrated, bottles his feelings until he explodes, tends to run from his problems, occasionally forgets to take care of himself

MBTI : ENFP, but only just barely (x)

ZODIAC : Virgo

TEMPERAMENT : Sanguine (x)

SOUL  TYPE / S : Creator (no surprise there), followed closely by Educator and Helper (x)

ANIMALS : Apparently he's a Zebra (x), which is not necessarily something I would have chosen but I guess it fits? (x)

VICE  HABIT / S : Can be kind of lazy sometimes, major sweet tooth

FAITH : "The Powers that Be"

GHOSTS ? : Skeptical, but willing to be convinced

AFTERLIFE ? : Who knows?

REINCARNATION ? : He wouldn't discredit it.

ALIENS ? : YEs

POLITICAL  ALIGNMENT : He doesn't really bother himself with politics.

ECONOMIC  PREFERENCE : ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

SOCIOPOLITICAL  POSITION : Everyone deserves to be treated with basic decency. Beyond that, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

EDUCATION  LEVEL : I'm gonna go ahead and say he's got a Master's in engineering, and then a bunch of random courses he thought would be interesting but don't actually add up to any kind of extra degree.

FAMILY.

FATHER : Fulton Gearloose

MOTHER : ??? Gearloose (Until I find a canon name, I've called her Tallulah)

SIBLINGS : It's implied he has at least one sibling, since he's got a nephew in some of the comics, but I don't think they've ever actually been seen

EXTENDED  FAMILY : Ratchet Gearloose (Grandfather), Copernicus Gearloose (Great-grandfather), Descartes Gearloose (Great-uncle), Newton Gearloose (Nephew)

NAME  MEANING / S : Gyro, as in gyroscope or gyrosphere. Gearloose, as in a literal loose gear.

HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? : His great-grandfather assisted a gentleman thief in the 1920s. Long standing family ties to Scrooge McDuck. Gyro himself is a knight of the kingdom of Quackalot thanks to time travel shenanigans.

FAVOURITES.

BOOK : Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

MOVIE : Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back

5  SONGS : 

Why Does the Sun Shine? by They Might Be Giants 

Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger by Daft Punk

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds by The Beatles

Poison by Alice Cooper (kind of a guilty pleasure)

Don't Stop Me Now by Queen

DEITY : ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

HOLIDAY : New Years

MONTH : I don't think he really has a favorite month.

SEASON : Spring

PLACE : His workshop

WEATHER : Partly cloudy, 68F, low humidity, light breeze

SOUND : Clocks ticking, birds singing, keyboard clatter, that wobbly sound that laminated paper makes

SCENT / S : Freshly cut grass, sunscreen, baked goods

TASTE / S : Fresh fruit, anything sweet

FEEL / S : The weight of a wrench or a hammer, the texture of blueprint paper, working outdoors in the sunshine (or by a window), laying in a hammock

ANIMAL / S : Dogs, bees, butterflies, songbirds

NUMBER : 42

COLOUR : Orange

EXTRA.

TALENTS : Not sure if you'd really call it a talent, but he's canonically ambidextrous. 

BAD  AT : Cooking, singing

TURN  ONS : Not getting into that here.

TURN  OFFS : Not getting into this either.

HOBBIES : Baseball, soccer, fishing, bug catching

TROPES : Cloudcuckoolander, Gadgeteer Genius, Mr. Fixit, Identical Grandson,  and probably a whole lot more that I can't be bothered to keep looking for.

AESTHETIC  TAGS : Tools, metalworking, robotics, clockwork, spring and summer landscapes, baseball, soccer, orange, circuitry, beaches, Arthurian legends, medieval weaponry, castles, old sci-fi, space, cyberpunk, steampunk, science labs, dragons

GPOY  QUOTES : ??

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC / S : Rick Moranis

ALT  FC / S : Don't have one

OLDER  FC / S : ...Older Rick Moranis?

YOUNGER  FC / S : ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

VOICE  CLAIM / S : Well, his last voice actor was Chris Edgerly in the remastered game, but I don't think it's been confirmed yet who his new VA will be.

GENDERBENT  FC / S : Don't have one

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If  you  could  write  your  character  your  way  in  their  own  movie ,   what  would  it  be  called ,  what  style  would  it  be  filmed  in ,  and  what  would  it  be  about ?

A1 : I have no idea. It would probably be a campy, 80's style sci-fi though, like Honey I Shrunk The Kids or Weird Science.

Q2 : What  would  their  soundtrack / score  sound  like ?          

A2 : Lighthearted, but with a sense of wonder. It would make occasional use of odd instruments.

Q3 : Why  did  you  start  writing  this  character ?          

A3 : I had just rediscovered DuckTales and Tumblr RP blogs were starting to become this big thing that everyone did so I just sort of jumped on the bandwagon.

Q4 : What  first  attracted  you  to  this  character ?          

A4 : I've always loved nerdy, quirky characters. Being a ginger doesn't hurt either.

Q5 : Describe  the  biggest  thing  you  dislike  about  your  muse.          

A5 : He is usually portrayed as having human-like feet, which makes no gotdang sense. The ducks have duck feet. Cats and dogs have paws. Other chickens have chicken feet. BUT LET'S MAKE GYRO A WEIRD MUTANT, MWAHAHAHAHAHA! ...How about no? I'm just... completely disregarding that as canon unless there's an explanation for it. I'll even take a one off, throwaway comment. Otherwise, y'all can fight me.

Q6 : What  do  you  have  in  common  with  your  muse ?          

A6 :  A tendency to get way too invested in a project and forget to do things like sleeping or eating a reasonable meal.

Q7 : How  does  your  muse  feel  about  you ?          

A7 : He doesn't know I'm there, and I intend to keep it that way for now.

Q8 : What  characters  does  your  muse  have  interesting  interactions  with ?        

A8 : He has had some truly memorable relationships and interactions with other muses throughout my time playing him, and I don't think I could adequately cover all of them in just a little survey post.

Q9 : What  gives  you  inspiration  to  write  your  muse ?         

A9 : I've got a playlist of songs that remind me of him that I listen to sometimes. Other than that, I find inspiration for Gyro in some of the weirdest places, like my history textbook the other day, or a particularly scientifically inaccurate episode of Danger Mouse I watched the other day.

Q10 : How  long  did  this  take  you  to  complete ?         

A10 : About two hours.

[outletforit]

im a journalism major and my writing is comparable to a three year olds

So my housemate is a graphic design major. Within her major she takes vigorous courses of art and mindfucking that essentially propels her mind into another dimension most of the time. This dimension is piled with emotions, being in tune with those emotions, and trying to figure out everybody else’s emotions while your at it. She is completing a thesis project that in short represents her whole entire grasp of the last 3 years of schooling and being on this mindfucking, emotional dimension of trippy forms of art and some weird ass people.

Being that she lives in a house of 7 girls including my delightful self, she uses us as her guide to emotional answers. We were interviewed a while back on questions regarding her thesis that included the main questions of relationships, sex, and your emotions in regards to relationships and sex. Of course being myself my answers were really basic and foot forward because god forbid I let someone into the shit show that is my mind. I don’t think people could even begin to understand the fuckery that occurs up here. 

Anyway, she has come back to me tonight with some follow up questions about my thoughts concerning who I believe I am, 3 words that “describe” myself, why I am the way I fucking am, so on and so forth until my skin is gone and my heart is basically on the table of our disgusting dinner table. If you could actually even call it a dinner table. I don’t think anyone even eats there. It’s covered in random accessories, paraphernalia, and weed crumbles.

With these in depth and ridiculous questions about one self, she asked to write up a short paragraph of who we believe we are. Raw and open. Now, as much as I am ‘open’ (a very slight definition of the word open), I am just closed off and stuck in my ways of myself. Emotions? Let you in? You want me to talk to you about how I feel? I’m good I will sit in my small corner and cry by myself until I distract myself with Always Sunny and food. It’s been working well for me I think. Before I go and write up a bullshit paragraph and her thesis in search to understand why people are the way they are, I will write my real one here. Because I don’t think I have ever been 100% real with anyone I have come in contact too. Because that is scary, and honestly, no one deserves myself probably not even me. I’m a bad ass bitch. Not really but i think i am. I’m great. Alright here she blows. 

me?

Who the fucking fuck am I. I am everything the world has developed me to be. I have a beautiful mother and father. They have shaped me into an okay person, with okay tendencies, and an okay personality. If I have to look at myself from an outside perspective, I am that small, bubbled girl with a big ass mouth, strong opinions about almost everything but doesn’t let them be known, sarcastic comment for everything, unattached, chill, rapping ratchet ass, asshole of a girl who should honestly just be a dude cause my life would have been easier. To others I am perceived as funny, chill, sweet, cute, good friend, logical. in my head, I am irrational, too emotional, to outspoken, to sarcastic, too ratchet, too chill, too fucking small (my god I couldn’t get like 2 more fucking inches), too sweet to people who I don’t need to be, and too attached to a persona that I have created for myself. Of course after years of pretending to be someone, you will ultimately come to terms and in the end, become that someone. But, If it was just me on this earth, me and myself roaming this earth, who the fuck would i actually be? You see, my personality has been shaped and shifted by my environment and who and what has come and gone from my life the last 21 years. I was too scared to be myself because little kids were mean and my parents didn’t like that. I was too scared to listen to music I liked because people judged me. I didn’t wear what I wanted to wear, eat what I wanted to eat, do what the FUCK I wanted to do, because somehow somewhere, someone would disapprove. So of course in modern fashion, I disapproved as well. Through the years of me not speaking because I was afraid the kid behind me would make fun of me, to speaking too much about the kid in front of me because now I thought my opinion mattered for some reason (it absolutely did not), I guess I have evolved into someone who is really really lost. I am deadass just lost. 

I know who I am. I know what I am going to do when I wake up in the morning and how i am going to speak to this person and how I am supposed to react and feel towards one situation to the next, but honestly I am nothing but a lost soul that has realized that this world has way to much to offer and I am only grabbing about 5% by the balls. If it was up to me, right now, I would be free. I would dye my hair purple, chug some travelers club, tell everyone to fuck themselves and go move to Philadelphia (go birds am I right). Okay so maybe I wouldn’t do exactly that. There are some parts of myself that I do love. I love that when I’m not being a stupid fuck I am pretty rational about emotions regarding others and how I feel. I like that I am a good friend (mostly) and a good daughter (mostly). I love that I love music. Music is truly one of the sole purposes of my life and I do not spend a day where I don’t throw on my ridiculous rap music and jam so hard my head hurts. I don’t know how i got like this but I fucking love it. I like that I am a chill human being and can take a joke but can also dish them out. I like that after school I believe that I will not stop at a 9-5. I like that I am level headed and can see past all the stupid shit that clouds peoples minds. I like that I can chug a handle of TC like a fucking boss. I’m honestly a real fucking one. Of course I don’t like that I overthink what people presume of me. I don’t like that boys ultimately make me nervous (self-inflicted, I was a fucked up teenager with too much time on her hands to cry about herself). I don’t like that i hesitate in sexual encounters cause I’m just plain fucking nervous to let people really see me. I don’t like that I hide my emotions and I know it’s going to smack me in the face. I don’t like that I never did what I fucking wanted to do because I was to scared of others opinions and I let them rule my life. I’m trying to accept the things I don’t like about me. Because I think that will lead me to a happier path that I’m gonna have to ride out anyway. I think ultimately, I am learning about myself as the days go by, and I am understand the mistakes I made in my younger years. There will be a day where I really don’t care, and I will confident in myself, beer tummy and emotions and all. ‘Till then, I will give a people a show and give them what they think they deserve of me. Even though they actually do not. No one deserves to understand me because BITCH I don’t even understand myself. Not quite yet. 

2/6/18- oh shit, maybe this damn thesis has made me think about my deepest and darkest emotions. Well freak. I suck! Until next time.

[pettyicequeencee-blog]

I Don’t Date Black Women

Racial preference and dating seems to be all the rage lately. I’ve come across a multitude of videos/articles explaining why Black men (especially those who are famed and wealthy) “prefer” White (or non-Black women) over Black women when it comes to dating. While I sit back, sip my Jameson (or tea if I’m at work), I cannot help but wonder WHO made not dating Black women trendy? So let’s talk about it.

Recently a Miami Dolphin football player has received a lot of backlash over a post asking why do Black men go for White women once they reach a certain level of wealth and fame. Not sure who the troll was, but he decided to give us some “insight” on why he doesn’t deal with Black women. Ready? And go!

-We’re stubborn, uneducated (because he assumes that all of us believes that things are 50/50 in a relationship)

-We all like to argue and be the boss

-We don’t take responsibilities for our actions

-We are not coachable.

Whew! Sounds like a mouthful doesn’t it?! That’s because it is. A mouthful of complete, biased, closed minded bullshit and it doesn’t stop there. I

WE ARE NOT THE SAME

I should not have to even explain to someone’s grown son that we are not the same. Just as much as men like to let women know that he is not like the last man, give us the same opportunity to display that we are not like all women, Black or not. Not every Black woman grew up in a broken home. Not every Black woman likes to argue. Not every Black woman grew up in an Urban ghetto. There are plenty of us that with degrees, businesses, careers, good credit, and common sense. Many of us come from loving families with both mom and dad present. I am not responsible for your past experiences with other women, at all.

I DIDN’T ASK YOU….

How many times as a woman/Black woman have you heard a Black man say “I don’t date Black women”? Now how many times have you actually asked that person whether or whether not he dated Black women? Let’s be real for a second, most Black women don’t and shouldn’t have to question whether another man the same Ethnicity as her would date her when engaging in a regular conversation. I have experienced the “I don’t date Black women” in a conversation not even aimed at racial dating preferences. It’s almost as if these type of Black men WANT us to ask and beg for their love and attention. They want to hurt us and make us wonder why they aren’t into us and before us women go around getting our panties in a bunch, just remember, we didn’t ask, therefore we shouldn’t care.

I’ve had my own personal experiences with dealing with Black men that seem to think that White/non-Black women are better. A while ago in college I worked at a shitty coffee spot (the one where you where green aprons) and my coworker was this Black male who apparently only dated White women, except I didn’t get the memo. I also didn’t care, but every time we worked together he made it his job to let me know that he was not into me. Funny, right? So literally every White girl that walked into the store, he’d rush over to me to tell me how “bad” or “cute” he thought she was. After the third time I became annoyed and here’s why. I DIDN’T ASK YOU. White woman or not, I do not care to hear about your sexual interests in other women, because I am not sexually interested. I never understood why men love to compare women to other women. I find it quite annoying. If I were to constantly talk about my sexual interests in a man to another man, I’m sure he wouldn’t want to hear it. Anyway, I finally told him that I didn’t care so why is he going out of his way to make me see how attracted he is to a White woman.

So when I asked him what’s his deal I guess he thought it was story time. This opened up the platform for him to explain why he only dates White women. Black women that he has approached aren’t attracted to him. (Grabs tissues) He claimed that his ex, who is Black, had set him up to be robbed. (Sheds tears) Then, he proceeds to say, that he actually found me attractive. (Plays world’s smallest violin) I had to stop him right the fuck there. I had zero sympathy for this dude. How dare you purposely try to insult my character, my beauty, and my mental by belittling me as a Black woman, only to turn around and hit me with some weak ass sob story of your ex and then proceed to “flirt” with me. N*gga, you sound bitter.

BITTER N*GGA SYNDROME IS REAL

What is Bitter N*gga Syndrome? And who does it affect? Bitter N*gga Syndrome is a mental disability which distorts and clouds the mind of the Black male with the illusion that any negative experiences that they have had that has involved a Black woman is a right of passage to display White supremacy tactics and belittle all Black women. Those that suffer Bitter Nigga Syndrome often display signs of suppressed self hatred, self loathe, and idolization of Western/European culture while depreciating their own culture and women within their culture because they [may or may not] have been severely damaged mentally and emotionally and are unable to cope with the aftermath their experience.

Now, I’m no doctor, but I hope that one day my diagnoses can one day help those who suffer from this mental illness because this ish is too real to go untreated. We all have been hurt before. Let’s face it, Black women have experienced more trauma in relationships than men and any other race of women. This is not to say that men do not face hurt in relationships, or that White women have never been lied to or cheated on, but the treatment of Black women by Black men has not been a cake walk.

I will not deny that there are some great Black men out there, however, I have dealt with some that really…… ain’t shit and I could be bitter about that. I’ve been lied to, cheated on, placed on the back burner, used, and dealt with men that put zero effort into. Needless to say, anytime a woman has a bad experience with men it is always labeled as the woman’s fault. We should choose our men more wisely. It is our fault that he lied and gave us false hope. It is our fault that it takes two to produce a child. Ironically, the same misogynistic mindset of taking ownership and responsibility over one’s life choices never seems to apply to men. Anytime we voice a concern about (Black) men, we are angry, loud, disrespectful, or bitter. However, a Black man will not take ownership of the part that he has played in a past failed relationship. It is always the Black woman’s fault.

DEAR BLACK MEN, YOU ARE NOT SQUEAKY CLEAN

Black men who don’t date Black women often give off this montage as if they are squeaky clean, and sorry fellas we all have assholes and your shit is capable of stinking. Stop it. Stop pretending that you have never hurt anyone in your precious White washed life of yours. Plenty of you have lied, cheated, fathered kids out of wedlock, have no degree, grew up without a father figure, and don’t understand the importance of respect and communication within a relationship. None of us are perfect and a man’s pride often gets in the way of a relationship’s potential to grow. A woman is your equal. Period. We can be submissive while still thinking for ourselves. We are not here to stroke your ego to the point that it shames us.

I read a few articles on Blackwomenareeasy.com and I couldn’t help but to think, who is this douchebag of a man writing these articles. Why is it that there is always a man feeding us his misogyny and trying to tell women how they should act in relationships and in society? Why is it that men have a hard time fact checking other men when they fuck up in a relationship or on how they treat women, but they are quick to let a woman know what she is doing wrong? Yes, I do believe that as HUMAN BEINGS, we are responsible for our own happiness and what we allow in our lives, however, let’s not down play the role of a man in failed relationships. I get sick and tired of the finger pointing in both directions. All men and women are capable of doing fuck-shit things, period, but I refuse to not acknowledge the fact that society has the mindset that “boys will be boys”. No. No. No. No. Hold men accountable for what they do.

THE APPROPRIATION OF THE BLACK FEMALE

So you mean to tell me that if I wear my hair in dredlocks or in it’s natural state that it’s unprofessional and that my hair is nappy, but a White model at fashion week can wear faux locs and it’s now fashionable. The Kartrashians can wear braids and it is now trendy, meanwhile I’ve been wearing cornrows for years and will face scrutiny at a job because my hairstyle is deemed too ethnic. Some 13 year old wanna be hoodrat can tell you to “cash me outside, how bout dat” and she is instantly famed for being violent and ratchet, but only because she is White.

This right here folks is appropriation in it’s finest form and we as Black women can’t speak out against it or we’re being angry. I am constantly being compared to White women. I am constantly being told that my hair, skin, dialect, and culture is inappropriate, meanwhile the White woman mocking my culture is accepted and even given credit for something my ancestors have been doing for ages. This sends us the perfect message. That it’s not what you do, it’s who’s doing it that makes is acceptable or not. What upsets me even more is that Black men support cultural appropriation. You don’t want a Black woman, yet you will settle for a White/non-Black woman who appropriates Black culture.

WE DON’T WANT TO DATE YOU SO NEITHER CAN WHITE MEN

Stop it. You’re being messy and it’s unattractive. My father has 6 kids by 5 different women. He had the nerve to tell 15 year old me that he is done dating Black women because they don’t listen and do what he says. Here he was, a Black man that is supposed to be showing me what it feels to be loved and treated by Black men, and he had failed me completely. He was the same Black man that has told me not to date White men. He was the same Black man that always spoke ill of the mother’s of his children. He was the same Black man that did the bare minimum when it came to financially helping his children. He was the same Black man that missed birthdays, graduations, and more. He is the same Black man that is pro-Black/hotep but lacks respect for his own Black women.

Men like my father often think that because they won’t date you then that means that a man of another ethnicity cannot, and again that’s that Bitter N*gga Syndrome kicking in. The hoteps came flying in when they found out Serena Williams was engaged to a White man. She was every name in the book from sellout to bitch, and you wonder why she went the route that she did and did it silently. She didn’t have to tell us why she chose to be with a man that was not only White, but who also loved her. Some of you Black men fail to realize that we too get tired of the same ole shit with you. I love my Black men, I truly do, but do not be fooled. Black women do not owe themselves unto you. If you cannot appreciate us, please believe that there are plenty of men out there that can and will.

[squirrelwrangler]

I stopped after the second book exactly because I didn’t like or like to read about any of those characters except Sansa and Catelyn. Jon Snow put me to sleep, Dany I hated her plot-line disconnect and the Othering and also the dragons. Arya I was irritated from her first chapter at the classic ‘i’m a tomboy and my older sister wants to be responsible and respectfully and follow the feminine roles women are encouraged to that the author is going to disrespect via this sad worn-out tropes, and look at how enlightened/modern I am for hanging out with commoners and then her arc into traumatized child soldier but with too much underlying ‘little miss baddass awesome’. Which, there are tropes I love, but it depends on the context and how even-handed they characters are treated and much i can pretend the characters are.

Violence in detail I can handle. Sexual violence ...euh. Where the violence is ratcheted up to comically extreme levels without admitting it a parody and solely to make this statement of war/the past is hell, but with a Hollywood-extreme view of the past where it’s used to say ‘look how awfully violent things are/were’, like the juvenile 90s comics thinking they were being more adult - that turns me off.

Good People Trying to Be Good is a good trope, and I think ASOIAF is trying to have that, with characters trying to do the right thing - but most aren’t. And the character that is most like the stock hero-tying-to-do-right is the “so-awfully-boring why do people like him” Jon Snow. Or I guess Dany “I still wish your dragons had never hatched I can’t wait for them to die and also the sexualization of your character is still creepy and I hate the Beautiful Superior (Colonizing) Noble Family of your family and trope and the author does a bad job with Orientalism  in your story-line and the tv show is worse”.

There underlying lynchpin of ASOIAF, while I think it isn’t supposed to be as cynical, comes across as ugly and nihilistic. So yeah, you aren’t missing anything. I’m sure GRRM will write his eucastrophe, but I’m not sitting around waiting for it.

RE: RuroKen: As far as the anime- you can stop after the Kyoto Arc, skip filler. If you can find the manga i do rec it strongly- plus it’s short for a shonen classic. The live action movies are good too, as an AU.

Moon Over Warring States- okay, gonna gush. It’s only a one-shot, so I can. (You follow me long enough, you realize that the core of heget is not a Tolkien fan, it’s a RuroKen fan). The first Hiko Sejirou is fighting against an army that has overtaken his kingdom and inspired the princess he was sworn to protect, trying to go out in a suicidal fight. (Looks at this trope, looks over at Beren). In the middle of fighting he rescues a peasant conscripted fighter who is running away in terror, our coward Isshinta. Questioning Isshinta on why he’s fleeing in tears instead of doing the manly honorable thing -isshinta admits he’s a coward but he wants to return home to his village and Natsu. Hiko startles at this, because the princess has the same name. Isshinta doesn’t want to make Natsu sad by dying; he has to live for her. (Flashback to Natsu scolding Isshinta to stop crying, be strong and brave, here’s her mother’s charm for strength - said charm actually being for strength during childbirth and I love that acknowledgement). Then the reveal that a) Hiko had a forbidden secret love for Princess Natsu, b) she begged him to take her and flee when their country had to surrender, and c) Hiko didn’t and blames himself for abandoning her. Isshinta points out that surrender terms doesn’t guarantee Natsu’s continued safety, stop guilt-tripping yourself, and the real villain is the dude invading; Hiko’s strong enough to stop him. Come dawn, ambush, Hiko fighting for his life, surrounded by the army and evil general. Hiko yells at Isshinta to run, save himself, go back to his Natsu. Isshinta in tears worried for Hiko, running away - at first. Hiko fighting the whole army, the general hiding behind his troops mocking Hiko, planning to present his corpse to Princess Natsu. At the last second, but who appears but our coward isshinta, tears in his eyes, sword raised like a crescent moon - “You are going to live, Hiko. we are both going to live and go back to our Natsu. Princess Natsu is crying because she’s worried about you, not feeling betrayed by you.” Hiko defeats the general, happy reunions all around with a dash of comedy.

So yeah, it’s cliche after cliche but it’s some of my favorite cliches. Add that Finn has the conscientious objector and ‘my side is evil so I’m switching sides’ that I adore from Gara/Lara/Kirney of the Rogue Squadron books and Zuko of AtLA. Finn is my space prince. I want him to be Force-Sensitive and have a major arc with nemesis Plasma. I only like the ST characters because Finn likes them. 

I am sure Kylo will be redeemed and I will find that very unsatisfactory emotionally

YES. Just like Rey being a Skywalker, it’s something I expect to happen not because I want it to happen or it’ll emotionally or narratively satisfy me in any shape or form, but because I expect it to happen, because of outside considerations. Because the main movies are centered around Skywalkers and Rey is the main character of the ST, so she has to be a Skywalker. And that’s the only reason that argues for it in my mind. The teeth-gritting acceptance of what larger myth we are structured in.

Reylo is that ship were I understand why it’s there (hi Jacen ships and Kyp/Jaina and all the pure villain/hero ships that never interest me), and i don’t mind its existence or get annoyed fans ship it- but would be screaming furious if anything close to it happens in canon. I would applaud the daring if Kylo stays unredeemed. I feel I should have more sympathy for him if the blame for his behavior is successfully placed on Snoke’s brainwashing, but frankly I found that very unwritten, the rest of Kylo is exactly those attitudes and characters we are supposed to hate. When i didn’t find Darth maul at all cool even as a bad guy, and you expect me to think Kylo Ren is good for anything but failure memes?

@squirrelwrangler haha, finding Rand and many of the main characters horrible after a couple of books was one of the reasons my husband told me I wouldn’t like AsoIaF. I kept  complaining that I loved the setting but hated the main characters and he was like “if you want likable characters don’t read this.” that and I’m a wuss about graphic violence most of the time and I have been assured the violence is described in loving detail. (well, it might be an exaggeration to say I *hated* the characters, but they did grow in the opposite direction that I wanted and am interested in. I know this is because I am extremely boring and my weakness is for Nice People Trying to be Good. Nice people becoming cynical and jaded and hurting people is the opposite of what I want to read about.)

okay, so….this one-shot has characters who fall into Finn tropes? because he is also basically all my favorite tropes, too, so I NEED TO READ THIS. (also omg that is a good reminder that I need to actually finish Kenshin. I started it back in high school so like fifteen years ago but I am SO LAZY when it comes to watching things. I don’t know why, sitting down to watch a show feels like…so….much…..effort….compared to sitting and reading.)

Rey and Poe were nice and I like their existence, and I like a lot of the Poe/Rey/Finn friendshipping some of fandom has done because I love fluffy friendships. They are not in and of themselves the sorts of characters I love, but I liked their interactions with Finn and so. I mean honestly Finn is a GIFT, I was pretty sure he was written specifically with me and my favorite tropes in mind.

I am sure Kylo will be redeemed and I will find that very unsatisfactory emotionally. (He reminds me too much of like…every guy who couldn’t take no for an answer which is the real source of my desire that he be stabbed in the face.) 

The one plot point I do care about is Rey’s parents, mostly because I desperately don’t want Luke to be her dad. PLEASE Disney.