#Nobody's allowed to call him crazy and delusional but himself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years

Text

sprung spring | somebody watching me; drew mcintyre [m]

PROMPTS USED:

“You won’t be able to walk after I’m done with you.” + “that feels so good.” + From Behind + choking + fingering + standing up / in front of a window + “I’m not wearing any panties.” + teasing,dirty talk + “Someone’s watching us.” “Then stop holding back your moans and let’s give them a show.” + Voyeurism - hinted at -

NOTES:

Whew.. Was this ever a bitch to pull off. And I’m going to be totally honest with everyone, I really do not feel like I executed it to the best of my ability, but.. It finally started to flow and I did not dare stop or turn back. I feel like personally, this isn’t the best thing I’ve written, but... lately, I’ve been lagging in motivation or time and I’m just lowkey relieved that I finally got this out and got it to work. It took me like... two weeks I think? I’m gonna be honest. In hindsight, I do believe that my entire problem with execution here was Voyeurism. Because I just couldn’t get myself to come up with a scenario in which either party would willingly allow someone to watch? Oh and I’m realizing now that I totally ignored the prompt “I’m not wearing any panties.” but.. It’s out and I got it written and I pushed through another personal boundary I had no clue I had (voyeurism) and I just hope at least one person enjoys it?

WARNINGS:

sexual acts, duh. oral sex, edging, light choking, sex in front of a window - with someone watching outside, swearing, unprotected sex, body fluids, and biting/marking, oops rip that one snuck it’s way in.

PAIRING:

Drew McIntyre x OFC, Rhiannon

I didn’t try to tag anyone here. Tags are notorious fail for me, so... Maybe I’ll try to tag people again soon.

They flocked to him almost the instant she and Drew entered the party. And given that he had just accomplished a pretty huge career milestone, Rhiannon totally understood why. She also understood that they were best friends and that getting jealous or upset over it was something a girlfriend would do and something she had absolutely no right to do.

But damn it, it bothered her when she looked over and saw Mandy Rose practically hanging all over Drew. Granted, Drew looked totally annoyed and when they locked eyes across the crowded party, he rolled his eyes while glancing down at Mandy and Rhiannon’s response was to give a mild shrug and giggle about it while sipping her drink… It still bothered her. Way more than she cared to admit.

This is just one of many reasons you’re trying to stop flirting with him so hardcore and get yourself some distance, her brain chose that second to both remind her and scold her for not sticking to her original plan; telling Drew she had a date again tonight.

The pathetic thing is, she thought to herself, I don’t have a date. I… literally cannot fathom being with anyone else but him, I just know I can never tell him. She sighed and dragged her fingers through her hair, trying to silence the thought but it wouldn’t be silenced. It remained, nagging and nagging at her, eating away and driving her crazy.

Just like a whopping 99 percent of the time lately. It was getting harder and harder to be around him and keep her feelings hidden. It honestly felt like at any second, she was just gonna open her mouth and the words were gonna come tumbling right out.

A flash of red had her smiling and when Heath Slater came fully into view, she ran over, hugging the man. Heath nodded in Drew’s direction, chuckling in amusement. “Got separated, huh?”

“The second we stepped in the door, everybody bum rushed him. I mean… He did just win the Universal title. I’m just kinda… giving him space.”

“That look in your eyes, lil bit. Says that’s the last thing you wanna do.” Heath chuckled and dragged his fingers through shaggy ginger hair as he eyed Rhiannon intently. She sighed and shrugged, nodding towards Mandy, who seemed to finally be catching onto the fact that Drew wasn’t overly fond of her or the way she was invading his personal space. “I mean… let’s face it. There’s no way in hell I can stack up to… That.”

Heath fixed his gaze on Mandy who was storming off, annoyed and he shook his head, looking from one woman to the other. “Girl.. I oughta smack you in th’ back of the head for that. I’m tellin ya… You’d be surprised what happened if you finally just took a chance.”

“Heath, don’t.”

“I mean.. Everybody in back already thinks ya’ll are a thing thanks to earlier at the arena, that little scene with Ziggler. Ziggler told everybody after it happened.” Heath shrugged and reached out as a server made their way past, grabbing himself a beer and twisting off the top, shotgunning half.

Rhiannon stood there, heavily considering Heath’s words and cringing over the fact that Ziggler had told everyone that she and Drew were a thing, just keeping it quiet. She groaned quietly, rubbing her forehead. “How many of ‘em laughed and thought I was delusional?”

“Nobody, actually.” Heath flashed a grin and stepped closer to let some people get past the two of them. His gaze met Drew’s gaze and he flashed a smirk, shrugging at his best friend. If Rhiannon could see the look he was getting right now, that firm warning glare that Drew had the habit of giving pretty much anyone where Rhiannon was concerned… But she didn’t.

Just like Drew never seemed to notice that Rhiannon was flirtatious with him almost constantly. And that when they were together, they acted like an actual couple.

… somebody’s gotta do somethin… Heath mused to himself as he nursed the beer in his hands. If these two didn’t get this whole thing sorted out soon, they were going to combust. He stepped away from Rhiannon slightly, giving a teasing defensive wave of his hands as if to indicate no, he was not trying to make a move.

Drew seemed to relax and Heath chuckled to himself. Right up to the point where he saw Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman making their way into the party.

Rhiannon tensed and swallowed hard almost the instant she set sights on Brock and caught him already staring at her…. And worse, making his way over. She rolled her eyes and grabbed for a cup sitting on a table nearby, filling it with the rum laced punch in the bowl in the middle.

Just as he reached where she stood with Heath, Rhiannon took a huge sip of the punch, making Heath laugh.

“What the fuck are you doing here, huh? I heard this was invite only.”

“It is, but let’s be real, do you see anybody linin up to throw me out? Didn’t think so. Take a hike, ginger. I’ve got something to finish discussing with the little lady here.”

“Already told you, buffoon. Not.Fucking.Interested.” Rhiannon raised her hand, putting it right into Lesnar’s face as she stepped as far away from him as possible. Or tried to… she wasn’t quick enough because his hand went to her hip and he was pulling her close.

Heath cleared his throat loudly, clenching his fists. He shot a look back to where Drew stood, grumbling when he saw that apparently, Mandy was back and trying her luck again and as usual, Drew was entirely too fucking polite to tell her to fuck off already. “Just fuckin great. Awesome.”

“Didn’t I tell you to get fucked, Red? Do you wanna get F5’ed tonight?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, shrimp dick.” Heath grumbled, tensing all over, stepping up.

Rhiannon stepped between the two, glaring almost hatefully up at Brock. “Did those steroids we all know you pop like goddamn skittles rot your brain? I told you earlier. I have absolutely no use for you. I have a real man.”

“A real man, huh? Well looks like your real man is over there… Lettin Mandy Rose fawn all over him. C’mon.. you know you want me.” a beefy finger trailed beneath her chin and Rhiannon rolled her eyes, snapping her teeth at it as if she intended to bite it off. Brock’s eyes flashed a brighter shade of milky blue momentarily.

From behind her, Zelina cleared her throat.

“Did anybody invite you?”

“Did they have to? I do what I want.” Brock’s tongue trailed lazily over his lower lip and Zelina grumbled, rolling her eyes, casting a glance at Rhiannon. “Drew’s girlfriend, right?”

Rhiannon swallowed hard. Heath eyed Rhiannon, hints of a teasing smirk playing at his lips as he shrugged and turned his attention back to Brock, squaring up.

Rhiannon eyed Zelina and nodded. “Yeah. I’m just asking myself if this fuckin idiot got one too many Claymore kicks to the head earlier. Because I swear, I’ve already told him more than once the only way I’d ever be interested is never. I could have a gun to my head and I’d still choose the gun.”

“You heard her, shoo. Get movin. Scram!” Zelina sassed, stepping up to the giant of a man. “Besides, I don’t recall my friends inviting you. And they are the ones throwing this party, if I need to remind you. As a matter of fact, I believe that Maryse specifically said if you dared to show up, she wanted the cops called.”

“You really think you scare me?” Brock snorted in derision, staring down the two smaller females intently. Rhiannon nudged Zelina and leaned in, muttered loudly enough for Brock to hear, “I’m telling you… Steroids are a helluva drug.”

Brock clenched his fist and chuckled. “Sassy… I like that.”

“I’d like it if you fucked all the way off. But honestly, I don’t recall asking you what you like at any point.” Rhiannon gave a mild shrug.

“Your man’s gonna lose that title.. Then you’re gonna come running to me. We all know that belt’s the only thing you’re after. I know your type.”

“You know nothing. Nada.” Zelina spoke up, glaring up at the taller man. Rhiannon nodded in agreement, stepping closer. “He’s about to know how it feels to catch a stiletto to the balls though if he doesn’t fuck outta here.”

“Careful… His type considers that foreplay, girl.” Zelina spoke up, grimacing at the thought of anyone willingly getting in bed with Brock.

Rhiannon bit her lip, dragging her hand through thick and dark curls, tapping her foot impatiently. Heath cleared his throat menacingly. “Do you need help getting the fuck out? Huh? Because I can go find more than a few of the guys who are more than a little sick of you showin up and fuckin shit up… Or I can just do it my damn self. Either way’s fine, son.”

“I’m not your goddamn son, Slater.” Brock stepped up. Heath stepped up too and Rhiannon cleared her throat.

“Okay, whoa.”

Across the room, Jinder nudged Drew and leaned in, whispering into his ear, “Hey… You might want to get over there to Riri. You know how she gets when she’s scared and you know how Brock is.”

Drew growled as he looked over to find Heath and Brock in a tense staredown with Rhiannon stuck between the two and Zelina raising enough hell to get the attention she needed drawn to the area. Drew clenched his fists and calmly shoved past Mandy, leaving her to pout and grumble about not getting what his thing was for the dark haired girl.

“She’s not even that pretty.”

Jinder eyed Mandy and rolled his eyes. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Jinder shrugged as he grabbed for his own drink and took a sip. “You should leave him alone, by the way.”

“But he’s not even with that… woman.”

“Her name is Rhiannon and actually, they live together.”

“Well he sure as hell doesn’t talk about her all the time… I mean…” Mandy stammered, trying to justify the flirting she’d been doing. Jinder eyed her and laughed. “Ziggler is more your speed if you want the honest truth.” Jinder walked away, leaving Mandy to stand there, mouth agape.

Drew shoved through a crowd and stopped behind Brock.

“Aw, c’mon, princess. You know who the real man is. You know you want me.”

“I’d honestly rather fling myself into a dying star.” Rhiannon countered, bending to slip off her stiletto. She was beyond done with this, she just wanted Brock to leave already. He was causing a scene.

As most ‘nice guys’ do, of course.

“What’s so fucked in your brain that you can’t understand what I said earlier? The only man who’s getting any part of this,” Rhiannon gestured to herself with a smirk, “Is Drew McIntyre?”

Drew nearly choked when he heard her say it and he cleared his throat menacingly. Between what he’d just heard and what Jinder, Tamina and Nia were saying she’d openly admitted to earlier at the arena when they all talked… Tonight was that one shot. The one he’d been waiting on. If she really felt this way and he knew his own feelings were only growing more and more each day and getting harder to hide as a result.. Something had to give.

Heath was right. There was no perfect time. There was time, however. Picking his moment was only going to keep things tense. Stepping up… Taking what he wanted… that was clearly what he needed to at least try and do here.

Bearing that in mind, he didn’t hesitate when Brock turned to see who was standing behind him. Instead, he raised his fist and sent it smashing into Brock’s nose. Brock went to lunge and Drew stepped to the side, letting Brock wind up on the floor. “Did ah not tell ye earlier? She es mine.”

Brock was getting up, smirking and about to swing. Drew ducked and raised his leg, sending a kick to Brock’s midsection. Then he grabbed hold of his shirt and hurled him towards the door, standing over him and sneering down calmly. “Ah’m da only one whose goin ta take ‘er home. Get it through yer fookin thick ‘ead.”

The shoving match started again and Jinder and Heath as well as Paul and another or two of the guys present were quick to step in, get the two apart and Paul was dragging Brock out the door.

Drew fixed his gaze intently on Rhiannon and he flashed this amused smirk, shrugging at the way she pouted up at him. “Wot?”

“You and that temper, I swear.”

“Ef ah ‘adn’t come over, he never would’ve fucked off.” Drew was stepping closer; much closer. Rhiannon’s heart raced and she took a shaky breath, stepping closer to him before she could stop herself. She gave a nervous laugh, twisting dark curls around her fingertip as she looked up at him. “How much of that did you hear because I… I can explain?”

“Ah ‘eard enough. Was standing dere da whole time.” Drew licked his lip and couldn’t resist the gently teasing smirk that came when he saw her eyes lock on his lips intently, almost dazed.

Everything Heath and Jinder ever told him as ‘proof’ that she was flirting with him heavily and she was definitely as into him as he was her came rushing back and between that and the adrenaline from the night as a whole, Drew didn’t think, he acted instead, grabbing hold of her, pulling her up his body. Rhiannon’s legs squeezed his waist and her arms went around his neck as Drew started to make his way out of the room, wandering down a long hallway in search of somewhere, anywhere that might be just a little quieter.

“Drew?”

“Yeah, love?” Drew swore as he tried to pull on a door knob to a closed door and found it not budging, not even slightly. He stopped messing with the doorknob, gazing at her intently. “Wot’s up?”

“You’re not… saying anything… About what I said..” Rhiannon managed to get the words out, shaky voice and all.

“Dat’s because ah’m not a talker, remember? But as soon as ah can find a bloody unlocked room, ah fully intend t’ show y’ exactly how ah feel about it, love.” his lips brushed right against her mouth as he spoke and she whimpered, trailing her tongue over his bottom lip, earning her a growl from him as he pinned her between the door and his body, her back making a soft thud against the wooden door as it made contact. She dug her nails into his shoulders lightly and licked her lips, staring at his intently. Drew couldn’t help but chuckle and he muttered quietly, “If y’ want t’ do something, do it.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Rhiannon muttered, not bothering to censor herself. It was starting to click and the shock was starting to wear off, leaving this almost euphoric high in it’s place. He felt the same. He had to. Her heart felt like it was about to beat right out of her chest. The rush was almost dizzying.

“Oh, ah’m temptin y’.” Drew’s lips brushed against her mouth again and her nails dug in just a little more as she crashed her mouth against his lips. He nipped at her lower lip with his teeth, his hands digging into her ass as he shifted her in his arms slightly. His tongue trailed over the outline of her mouth, then slipping between scarlet colored lips, lazily trailing over her teeth and slipping between to tangle with her tongue. She wound up tugging his hair out of the ponytail he’d thrown it into before leaving the arena, her fingers tangling in it, tugging and using her grip to pull his mouth into the kiss even deeper. He groaned into the kiss, the noise quickly swallowed and overpowered by the soft smacks of their mouths meeting over and over.. Deeper and more desperate; almost frenzied.

“Challenge accepted.” Rhiannon breathed against his mouth; breaking the kiss to ghost her lips right down the side of his neck. She knew him well enough to know that his neck was a hot zone… Anything, even the slightest accidental touch was… Basically asking for it. She felt him tense and felt his fingers digging into her body as he shifted her in his arms. She pressed herself into him completely, rubbing herself against him just a little.

Drew shivered at the contact, sucking in a sharp breath, muttering a husky warning against her lips. “Yer askin for me t’ take y’ right here, against the door.”

“I’m not exactly going to complain.” Rhiannon was at it again, rubbing against him impatiently, whimpering when his mouth latched onto her throat, leaving a bold mark right out in plain sight as he bucked himself into her and his hands moved slowly over her body. “Tell me somethin, love?” Drew muttered as he gazed up at her, a wicked gleam in his eye. “How wet are y’ right now, hm?”

All Rhiannon could do was whimper, because they came to another stop, Drew sitting her on top of a console table between two rooms, his hands quickly disappearing beneath the hem of her dress. As his palm came to a halt over her throbbing sex, he hissed when he realized that she was well beyond soaked already, growling against her mouth as he gripped her jawline, tugging her face closer, crashing his mouth against her own. His palm settled over her core, squeezing and she slid forward on the tabletop, wrapping her legs around his waist tighter, desperate for friction, trying to settle for rocking herself against the slow and steady torture of his hand. “That… fuck that feels so good. Mmm.. Harder, Drew.” she moaned out as he began to squeeze and rub her cunt harder and faster, growling quietly into her mouth as she rocked herself against him more urgently.

“Harder?” he questioned, meeting her gaze, a chuckle forming as he flashed a mischievous gaze at her. “Gettin close are y’?”

“Just want you now.” Rhiannon begged shamelessly, not caring how it sounded. Drew scooped her off the table and stepped to the door closest to them, trying the knob. The second the door swung open, he gave a quiet and triumphant laugh, stepping inside, closing the door behind him before turning his attention back to Rhiannon.

“Ah asked y’ a question.” he was using that firm but teasing tone on her. And damned if it didn’t stir her up, just like it did every single time she’d hear him using it in his promos on tv.. Or on her whenever they were just playing around with each other at their apartment. Rhiannon gulped and nodded, pouting up at him and giving him the most pleading look she could dredge up. The one that always got him to cave and give up the remote.

Drew groaned quietly, stepping over to the bed, gently tossing her down and following suit, settling himself over her, burying his mouth in the side of her neck. He wanted her marked all over and too sore to even think about walking out of the room on her own. As long as he’d waited to finally be able to do this… He was going to make absolutely sure that everyone knew she was his.

He parted her legs with his body, centering himself over her. Rhiannon’s hands went for the hem of his tee shirt, tugging it up and throwing it to the floor nearby. Drew eyed her dress hungrily, his hands venturing down, pushing it up around her hips and then tugging it up, throwing it to the floor to settle softly next to his discarded shirt. He leaned down, a hand going beneath her to catch in the clasp of her bra and as soon as he had that free, he was tossing it to the floor too. His eyes roamed downward, settling on her panties before locking eyes with her again as he licked his lips and chuckled quietly, lowering himself.

Rhiannon’s hips rocked upward almost the second she felt his teeth sliding over her skin, catching here and there before giving the waistband of her panties a tug. As he continued to work them down her legs with his mouth, she shivered and whimpered softly, the feel of his facial hair and his tongue against her skin sending goosebumps all over her body. Her legs fell open wide and once her panties reached her ankles, she kicked them free quickly, raising to sit, her hands going for the waistband of his jeans. Drew lowered her hands, nodding to the mattress, that firm look in his eyes. “Oh no y’ don’t. Ah’m th’ one whose goin’ t’ take care ‘f you.” he licked his lips, holding her gaze. His hand lowered to the button on his jeans almost painfully slow and Rhiannon whimpered, swallowing hard, her eyes darting down, watching the movement of his hand almost intently. “It goes both ways.” she muttered quietly, raising her hand, fingers going for the zip.

Drew chuckled and allowed it, shivering as she took the chance to palm at the way he strained hard against his jeans before finally unzipping them. The second she’d gotten them unzipped, Drew was standing, earning him a pout from her. He discarded his shoes and then tugged down his pants. Drew sank down to his knees in front of her, pulling her closer to him on the bed, flashing her a hungry look before parting her legs, his hands gripping her hips as he started to work his mouth up the inside of her thighs. Rhiannon shivered and moaned quietly, propping on her elbows, biting her lip as she gazed down at him. Between the burn she felt from his beard against the inside of her thighs and the fact that he stopped to nip and suck at her skin, she felt her heels digging into his shoulders and her fingers already starting to grip at the bedcovers. “Fuck.”

Her whimpers and quiet groans had him smirking against her skin, daring to sink his teeth in a little more, leave more marks. She rocked her hips upward, trying to get closer. Her fingers were tangling in his hair, tugging, trying to guide his mouth upward. He dug his fingers into her hips to keep her still and she gave a pleading whimper.

Drew all but stopped, gazing up at her, taking in the sight of her with her face all flushed and her eyes fluttering open and shut. He could feel her tensing and he muttered lazily against her skin, “Relax.” - almost in a firm command. “Get as loud as y’ want.” he encouraged as his mouth started to roam higher. He moved his hand away from her hip, trailing it almost teasingly over her dripping core, meeting her gaze again. “Put yer legs over my shoulders.” he instructed as he pulled her closer, his tongue ghosting right up her center as he buried his fingers deep inside and dug his other hand into her hip to hold her as still as he could. “Dat’s a girl. And so fookin wet already. Good.” he muttered as his tongue circled her clit slowly, making her whimper a little louder, the sound echoing off the wall only to be muted by the music that seemed to filter through the walls from the party going on down the hall.

Rhiannon tried to rock her hips against his mouth and fingers but his grip was too tight. She whimpered a little louder, begging because he seemed to be enjoying this slow torture he was dishing out. “Drew, please… Now?” she breathed out, her fingers digging into the bedding a little more, gripping at his hair a little tighter.

Drew groaned as the taste of her hit his tongue and he stopped to gaze up at her again, biting his lip and giving her a smirk. Hearing her beg for it was… Hotter than anything he’d ever allowed himself to imagine. And it only seemed to bring out his teasing side, because he dipped his head again, trailing a straight line up her folds and then dragging his tongue outward in a curve to form the letter D.

Rhiannon’s whimpers turned to moans and she bit her lip, sucking in several sharp breaths. Drew’s fingertips dug into her hip tighter and he chuckled because he felt her starting to shake. Daring to tease just a little more, he dragged his tongue between her folds and worked his fingers even deeper inside, scissoring and massaging, his tongue plunging in, another growl at the thickening taste of her on his tongue.

“Fook.” he swore against her heat, his tongue slipping out as his fingers continued to work her open and stretch her. She tried again to buck her hips and get more friction, just a little more, but tears of frustration built when she realized that thanks to his grip on her hip, she really didn’t have much movement and that was exactly the way he wanted it. As his tongue trailed another straight line and then the two curves required to form the R in his name, Rhiannon’s heels dug into his back and she whimpered loud enough that the sound seemed to echo through the room. Drew smirked against her core and muttered calmly, “Louder, Riri. C’mon.. Ah want da whole party t’ know whose da one makin y’ feel so fookin good right now, princess.”

“Drew, fuck.. C’mon, please..” Rhiannon breathed out, gasping as she nearly choked up when his tongue plunged back deep into her cunt, swirling and competing with his finger’s scissoring and fucking into her deep and fast. “Please what?” he asked, gazing up at her as he came to a stop. He’d felt her tense up again and determined to keep her right on the edge until she was a whimpering and dripping mess beneath him had him stopping, just to let her back away from the edge. Her heels were digging lightly into his back and her hands had a white knuckle grip on his hair and the bedding beneath her body. The flush of her cheeks, that tongue dragging slowly over kiss swollen lips had him biting his lip and giving another quiet groan as he turned his attention back to what he’d been doing, muttering against her soft skin simply, “Patient, princess. Be patient. Y’ won’t be able t’ walk when ah’m done with y’, princess. Dat’s a promise.”

“But it feels so… Fuck..” Rhiannon trailed off as she felt him starting to drag his tongue over her folds all over again, tracing an E into them this time, sending a shiver through her entire body in the process. Her whimpers and moans were starting to get a little louder, and Drew gave a louder groan of his own as he felt her body tensing up, felt her really starting to drip and puddle, his tongue lowering to her thigh to chase up her juices as he glanced up at her. He could look at her and tell she was teetering right on the edge, literally all it would take was him saying it was okay, telling her she could get off.

But not yet.

His head dipped again, his nose bumping against her pelvic mound as his tongue worked it’s way back up, ghosting over her folds, circling her clit and maybe for just the briefest of seconds, allowing his teeth to gently graze against the circular bundle of nerves which only made her moan louder, try again to rock her hips urgently. And then, he started to trail the shape of a W into her cunt, burying his tongue inside deep, his tongue and his fingers massaging and scissoring as she got wetter and wetter. “Wot’s wrong, princess?” he asked the question lazily, his voice sending a jolt of pleasure through her body as her fingers tugged at his hair, trying to push his head down lower, guide his mouth back down where she needed it most as her back arched and her free hand dug into the bedding beneath her even harder, fingers going numb at the grip she had on the bedding.

“Drew, p-please. Now.” Rhiannon’s head tilted back slightly, her tongue moving slowly over her lips as she took a few deep breaths and fought back the sting of frustrated tears.

Like before, he repeated himself firmly, shaking his head as he paused to look up at her from his position between her thighs. “Not yet. But if y’ keep gettin louder for me…” his tongue trailed over his lips and she shivered, pouting, trying to squirm where he had her pinned against the mattress, to rub against him somehow, get any little bit of friction she could manage.

But Drew wasn’t having it.

Apparently, he was going to keep slowly pushing her close to the edge, only to stop and guide her away.

When she felt his tongue join his fingers buried deep inside her cunt, she arched her back and her hand went back to his hair, tugging, almost pushing his mouth down closer. She was grateful she had even that little bit of motion left between the way he held her hip in place and the fact that she was so fucking close that it literally had her shaking and blurred dots lining her vision already.

Her cries echoed off the walls of the dimly lit room; louder with each one that left her lips. Drew groaned out loud as his tongue swirled faster and his fingers dug into her hips harder, almost a bruising grip. He felt her tensing up all over again and he muttered against her dripping core, “Know what ah want t’ do after this, hmm?”

“W-what’s that?” Rhiannon gasped out, trying to catch her breath, trying to keep the orgasm threatening to rip through her at bay just a little bit longer. Almost failing at it too. She locked eyes with him, giving him her most pleading look; prepared to beg if she had to. It almost felt like she was definitely going to have to resort to that.

Drew nodded to the window and licked the taste of her off his lips, coming back up her body to pull her into a deep and slow kiss while continuing to fuck his fingers deep into her cunt, his thumb lightly circling and pressing or toying with her clit as he did so. “Ah want t’ take y’ right against dat window. Y’ want me t’ do et, princess?”

Rhiannon’s head fell back and she rocked herself upward against his fingers buried inside as she moaned out loud “Fuck, please Drew…” as the kiss broke and his fingers scissoring, thrusting movements sped up just a little. Just enough so that for a few seconds, she was getting enough friction to catch her breath and back away from that edge just a little.

And then he was lowering himself again, back between her legs, throwing one over each shoulder as he raised her hip, gripping them both with his hands. This time, his tongue buried deep in her cunt, swirling and licking greedily as he growled and the warmth of his breath and his heavy facial scruff tickled at her skin and pushed her even closer. Thrusting her hips against his mouth, Rhiannon took full advantage at the sudden freedom to move she had, rocking her hips for him and sending his tongue deeper inside.

“Fook.” he groaned out against her skin. “Faster, princess. C’mon, keep et up. Want y’ screamin m’ name.”

“Ugh, fuck.. Drew.. I’m.. I’m..” Rhiannon was dangerously close to giving in to the intense orgasm built, a breath away. Drew nipped her pelvic mound, gazing up at her, that smirk on his face. “Let go, princess.”

And she did, shaking and gripping the bedding beneath her. Drew licking her clean greedily and then raising up, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth as he lowered himself, crashing his mouth against her mouth. As the kiss broke, Rhiannon’s eyes settled on the window and then her gaze shifted down to Drew’s cock. He couldn’t stop the curious smirk he gave, not that he wanted to. “Wot do y’ wan’ t’ do? Use yer words.”

“I’d rather show you.” Rhiannon muttered in a lust-filled daze, biting her lip as she nodded towards the window again. Drew chuckled and started to walk away, standing there, beckoning her to him. Rhiannon slipped off the bed, tip toeing across the room, pulling his mouth down against her own again. Drew’s hands were all over her, gripping and squeezing and leaving his fair share of handprints behind. She was just about to sink to her knees in front of him but he bit his lip, stepping away, then stopping in front of her, staring down at her all over again as he pressed himself into her heavily. “Turn around.”

“Drew..”

“Turn around, love. Press against th’ window.” Drew muttered the words against her neck lazily. Under his firm gaze, she did as asked, turning away. Almost the second she felt his cock slip between her thighs, grazing right against tender and throbbing folds, she whimpered and a shiver ran through her body, making him chuckle against her neck just before sinking his teeth in and letting his lips latch on. “Feel good?”

“Mhm.. so good. It’s gonna feel so much better when you’re finally fucking me.. Please...C’mon.” Rhiannon begged, daring to wiggle her ass against him, making his cock graze against her all over again and Drew growled as his arm wrapped around her, his hand dipping down and disappearing between her thighs. She whimpered louder and he groaned as he felt her shake just a little. “Tender, hm?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Just wait til ah’m done wit’ y.. Yer not goin’ t’ be able t’ move.” Drew’s voice against her skin was husky, the warmth of his breath tickling her skin along with the coarse beard. Rhiannon gripped the edges of the window, bracing herself as Drew’s fingers continued to lazily circle her clit, applying light pressure, toying with the bundle of throbbing nerves until she was moaning his name, breathless and begging even louder.

His other hand roamed upward, squeezing her breasts, briefly lingering at the base of her throat as he grazed his cock against her all over again, teasing the tip between her folds. When she bit her lip and bucked her ass against him urgently, a series of frantic begging whimpers falling from her lips and echoing off the walls. He chuckled as it clicked and he realized that maybe she had a thing about the way his hand rested against her throat.

“Fuck. Please.. C’mon, Drew, I need you… inside me..” Rhiannon begged, a pleading moan coming next as she felt his fingers squeezing into her throat just a little bit. He growled against her ear, a dark chuckle following as he sank into her slowly, almost carefully and went still, gasping against the shell of her ear, “So fookin tight.” and nipped at it. When he felt her starting to relax, he started to slam into her hard and slow, as deep as he could get. Rhiannon met his thrusts into her with her own rocking motions, the pace between them syncing easily, even though she was dying for him to go faster, harder.. His hand squeezed at her throat a little harder and he gave another low chuckle. “Y’ like my ‘and around yer throat, do y’?”

“Mhm.. Oh.. -oh fuck… right there, baby.. C’mon, fuck me harder.” Rhiannon begged aloud before she ever realized she’d done it and Drew groaned, slamming into her harder and slower, making sure she felt every single inch of his thick length as it sank deep into her womb. The way she squeezed around him had him taking it slower, stilling to nip at her neck and leave little bite marks all over her neck, muttering against her skin how good it felt to fuck her, asking her at one point, “Do y’ like et? Knowin dat anybody who walks by th’ window can see me fucking y’? Answer me, princess.”

“Y-yes. Fuck. Right there, c’mon. Harder, baby.” Rhiannon begged, her back arching against him, his hand gripping her hip tight as he started to really slam into her from behind, pressing into her, pressing her right up against the window.

“Harder, hm?” Drew questioned, giving her throat another little squeeze. Rhiannon whimpered as the dizzying intensity of another orgasm began to sneak it’s way through her, a slow and lazy build because Drew was purposely keeping them at a slow and steady pace. Her body pressed against the cool glass of the window and she could see him behind her in the reflection of the window, her fingers gripping the edges tighter as she did her best to stay upright. The harder and deeper he slammed into her, the better it felt. The more intense it got. His hand moved down from her throat, resting against her other hip as he pulled her hips back against him, slamming into her just a little faster.

Drew could feel her walls clenching around his cock and he drove into her a little slower, muttering lazily against her neck, “Feels so fookin good. Y’ take me so well, princess.” as he stilled just to keep himself on the edge of his own rapidly building orgasm. When he bottomed out and she tensed, a long and drawn out moan leaving her lips as her head fell back, the back of it resting against his chest, he growled quietly. “Ah know y’ can get louder. Let me hear et, love.”

And as he started to speed up again, slamming into her harder and deeper, his hands gripping her hips tighter, tight enough to leave handprints behind, Rhiannon caught sight of someone lurking around nearby. “Someone’s watching.”

Drew stilled, leaning forward to glance out the window from behind her and he caught sight of her pout. “Wot’s th’ pout for?”

“You stopped. Fuck, c’mon. Need…” Rhiannon whimpered out, rocking her hips back against him, driving him deep into her womb, a satisfied and almost wanton moan leaving her mouth as she licked her lips and continued to sink herself onto his cock, over and over. Drew had to grip her hip and his other hand wandered up, resting over her hand where it gripped the edge of the window and he pressed himself into her heavily. “Y’ need what, love?”

“You.. don’t stop.. Oh fuck I’m… I’m so close.” Rhiannon managed to breathe out, earning her a chuckle as Drew muttered, “Ef we’re goin’ t’ ‘ave an audience, maybe we should give ‘em a show?” mostly in teasing, but when Rhiannon started to really buck her hips back against him and cause him to bottom out, he growled quietly, his teeth nipping at her neck as he muttered against her ear all over again, “Y’ like that, do y?”

“I like anything that involves you not stopping. Fuck… Drew, baby..” Rhiannon begged as he started to pound away at her harder and just a little faster. She gave herself over to the pleasure, the way it felt to have his body pressed firmly against her own, his hands and mouth all over her, the way it felt to be filled and stretched by his cock. “Faster, c’mon.. Please?”

“So fuckin wet. Yer drippin.” Drew growled out against her neck, nipping at it as he sped up, his hips smacking against her body joining the sounds of their labored breathing and the loud moans and begging Rhiannon was doing. “And y’ take me so well.”

Whoever had been watching was forgotten, the two of them caught up in each other, and yet, the person remained.

Rhiannon whimpered aloud, moaning his name over and over as Drew bottomed out over and over again, his cock going deeper, buried balls deep inside her. When he felt her tighten around her, he tried to slow down, but Rhiannon kept slamming her hips back against him, begging for it. “I’m so close, c’mon.. Please Drew?”

“So ah’m ah.” Drew growled against her ear as he slammed into her harder and deeper, his hips erratic smack against her backside echoing around them and competing with their combined cries and heavy breathing. “Don’t wanna stop.” he grunted as she clenched him deep inside, her release coating him, flooding and dripping and spurring him right over the edge also. He leaned against her heavily, hands gripping her hips to hold her upright, taking deep breaths as he throbbed and emptied inside her, his lips moving over her neck in a slow frenzy as he let them both come down from the high of their orgasm.

Rhiannon turned around to face him, pressing against him and Drew picked her up, carrying her back to the bed where they collapsed, spent, a tangle of arms and legs. “If y’ think dat’s somethin, love… wait til round two when ah get y’ back to our place. There are rooms dat need t’ be broken in…” Drew’s finger trailed over her lips, then down, tracing the line between her breasts. Rhiannon leaned in, teeth tugging at his lower lip as she muttered lazily against his mouth, “Challenge accepted.”

“Let’s get outta ‘ere.” Drew asked, gathering their clothes, holding hers out to her, chuckling as he helped her start to re-dress...

#drew mcintyre fanfiction #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre oneshot #drew mcintyre fic #drew mcintyre imagine #// no one under 18+#// fourseasonsofsm*tselfchallenge #// s*xual content #// choking tw #// voyeurism #// body fluids #// unprotected s*x

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lilacsos · 5 years

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Doctor!AU: Awsten pt. 1

A/N: So fun fact, this is the third time I have tried to post it and I’m going crazy. Anyway, I’m very excited about this series and I’m looking forward to Awsten’s story and not just because I have his planned out the most. I hope you all enjoy this series as much as I do!

*Warnings*: Language, mentions of surgery on a child

Word Count:

Masterlist Character Info Taglist

Day 7: Surgical Interns

No one likes a cocky intern and Awsten was cocky. He made himself sound amazing and constantly threw himself into a conversation. He fought hard to be the best surgical intern his resident had and the truth was, he did a great job at it. He worked extra hours and he made sure everyone knew about it. If his shift started at five in the morning, he was at the hospital no later than 4:30. He refused to be late and he refused to be given the boring cases. If he wanted to prove he was the best, he needed his talents to be used in the best way they could.

The residents and attendings all took notice of this. Awsten’s hard work was not in vain. While this was only his seventh day of work, his reputation easily floated around the hospital. He quickly became known as the intern that put himself on a pedestal above the rest and he deserved to be. The chief of the surgery department has even mentioned him in passing before and called him the best intern since Leah. Which said a lot about Awsten and his talent. He was really amazing and he knew it.

No one likes a cocky intern but everyone hates an intern that’s cocky and has the talent to back it up.

Awsten waltzed his way into the locker room, changing into his scrubs when he reached his locker. He was excited; today was another day he had the chance to prove that he was the best. It was also another day to make Sage Peterson eat her words. Bitch knew nothing about him. Awsten was amazing and he was going to be the best surgeon in the country and it’s her fault for not believing him. When he reaches the top and she’s begging him to be his friend and work with him, she’s going to wish she believed him in the first place.

Dr. Stevens, Awsten’s resident, pushed the locker room door open and glared at his interns. “Alright, here’s what’s happening today. Williams and Davis, go down to the ER and help them out. Knight and Peterson, you’ll be doing rounds with me. And French, congrats, Dr. Hood requested that you scrub in on a surgery with him today.”

The group all went their separate ways while Awsten ran to catch up with Stevens. “Sir! I just want to know why French gets to work with Dr. Hood today and I have to do rounds.”

“Knight, they did rounds yesterday. You’re delusional if you think that you don’t have to do rounds at some point. Besides,” Stevens spoke, a smirk gracing his features as he continued, “Hood requested to have anyone that wasn’t, and I quote, ‘that cocky intern that Leah isn’t fond of.’ So Knight, you think you’re hot shit but the best surgical attending hates your guts.”

Awsten stood in shock, staring at his resident. Did Dr. Rosario really hate him? How could she? She’s only spoken to Awsten a handful of times so why did she already have an opinion on him? Well, Awsten might have known the reason why. If his reputation really did travel around the hospital, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to believe that she heard how cocky he was. So, his next step on his quest to becoming the best, is making Dr. Rosario like him. Peterson slowed her stride to walk next to Awsten as they followed Stevens to a patient's room. “He called you out. Even the best surgeons have to talk to patients. You seem to think you’re the best.”

“Because I am. Everyone says that I’m the best.”

“Except for Rosario. She finds you annoying.” Sage whispered with a wicked smile as she passed him on her way to catch up with Stevens.

At lunch, Awsten took a seat next to Vanessa and Michael, throwing his tray down next to theirs. “Rosario apparently hates me and she’s hardly spoken to me. Do you know how crazy that it? This is so stupid. Just because I’m good at what I do doesn’t mean anything about me as a person. She hasn’t even met me really. I’m amazing and I am a great surgeon! My very first day I did amazing work and I took a doll head out of a kid. They don’t allow any intern to do that and I did it. I showed my worth to everyone in the room and they were beyond impressed with me. I’m amazing.”

Vanessa sighed and took the pudding cup off of Awsten’s tray. “Listen buddy, you’re cocky. We all know this and the fact is, nobody likes cocky people. And from what I’ve been told, Rosario hates them, because it’s just a matter of time before they mess up and need to get their ass kicked. At least that’s what Ashton told me.”

“Ashton? You call your boss by his first name?”

Vanessa blushed darkly and gathered her things. “He told me to. And you know what Awsten, if you’re so worried about Rosario liking you, stop being so cocky and be an intern. You know, someone who’s there to learn because they don’t know everything. You’re one of us so act like it.” She huffed before storming off.

Michael, who had been trying to keep quiet now looked at Awsten with a frown. “She’s right you know. Interns don’t know everything and they do this program to learn from the best. You can’t learn if you already think you’re so great. Why are you so cocky anyway?”

“Because I’m the best. I’m going to be the greatest surgeon ever. That’s why I’m cocky.”

Michael could tell that he was lying but if Awsten didn’t want to tell him the truth then what was he going to do? He hoped that one day Awsten would trust himself and the others to share why he really acts like that but at this rate, Michael didn’t know if that would happen. He had an idea about what was going on in Awsten’s head and he was pretty sure he was right but he can’t tell unless Awsten wants to share. Michael stood and grabbed his trash. “Look Awsten, this cockiness is gonna come back to bite you in the ass. Someone is gonna get pissed and they’re going to do something about it. Look out for yourself.”

Awsten sighed and stared down at his food. What was Michael even talking about? No one would seriously sabotage him or anything. Right?

“Knight, tell me about your patient.” Stevens huffed, arms crossed over his chest.

“This is Mrs. Jenny Phillips. She’s 37 and she’s here because she needs a new heart. We’re waiting on a donation for her so we can replace her ticker and get her back to having a normal life.” Awsten stated with a large smile, feeling like he had done everything right.

“Good. What’s her blood type?”

Awsten’s smile faltered as he looked at his patient. He didn’t remember. How could he possibly forget his patient’s blood type? Frantically, he grabbed her files but when he flipped it open, the pages were gone. “Sir, her chart is missing.”

“You lost a patient's chart? Knight, how stupid are you? This is not something you can lose and hope you’ll survive without it. That chart has everything about the patient and without it she could die! What happens if you give her a pain killer and she’s allergic to it? What if she has a history that completely changes how we proceed with her surgery? Get out. You’re done for the day.”

Awsten huffed and stormed out of the room but not before he caught a shit-eating grin on Sage’s face. Fucking bitch hid his papers. Awsten paced around the hallway, wondering if he should even bother to tell Stevens what happened. He had no proof and since he didn’t like Awsten, the chances of him believing him were very slim. This was insane. Michael had said that someone wasn’t going to like what he did and the guy was right. Peterson had it out for him since their first day but he never thought she would go this far. He was going to have to get back at her for it somehow but he couldn’t do the same thing to her. Awsten was already walking on thin ice with Stevens and one wrong move could end his whole career. He had to be sneaky. Or, he could get back to being the best and showing off so everyone likes him again and they all hate her. That sounded like a very good plan in his mind.

“Knight?” Awsten looked around him and saw Dr. Rosario at the other end of the hall. Holy shit, was she talking to him? He didn’t see anyone else in the hall so she could only be talking to him. He was also the only Knight in the hospital but that wasn’t the point. “Good, that is you. You, your resident, and I are talking to the chief. Follow me.”

Awsten stared at her for a few seconds before he ran after her, meeting up with Stevens on the way. The three of them sat in the chief’s office, listening to her speak. “This needs to stop. Dr. Knight, you need to step off your pedestal. You may be a good intern but that does not mean you get to walk around this hospital telling patients that you’re the best doctor they’ll have and no one else will compare.”

Awsten quickly shook his head and looked at Stevens briefly. “With all respect Dr. Keller, I have never said that to a patient.”

“Then why did Dr. Stevens tell me that his other interns have heard you say this?”

“They’re lying then. Peterson, she stole my chart this morning so I couldn’t tell Dr. Stevens everything about my patient.” Awsten cleared his throat and looked down at his lap. “Ma’am, I know I’m cocky but I’m not stupid and I would never put another doctor down like that.”

“Even if you didn’t, Dr. Stevens has said that your ego is so large it’s hard to work with. You cannot be a successful doctor if you never get to work with others because you have a big head.” At this, Leah snorted but quickly silenced herself with one look from the chief. “So here’s what is going to happen. Stevens, tell Dr. Greene that you need one of her interns. Knight is no longer your intern.”

Stevens smiled brightly and nodded his head, leaning back into his seat. “Then why am I here?” Leah asked, suddenly terrified that she was going to have to babysit Awsten.

“Knight isn’t kicked out of the program because of his ego. He just needs someone to deflate his big head. That’s where you come in Leah. Awsten will be shadowing you for the rest of his internship or until his attitude improves.” Before anyone could protest, Dr. Keller stood and walked over to her office door, opening it and gesturing for everyone to leave. Reluctantly, they all stood and stepped out of the room.

“He has to follow me wherever I go?” Leah asked before the office door closed.

“Everywhere. When you work, he works. No exceptions. You want to be chief one day Leah, prove to me you can work under,” she paused, looking at Awsten who was standing across the hall, “difficult circumstances. You can do this.”

Stevens laughed as he walked away from the two, leaving them in silence. Awsten was almost certain that they would be in silence in the hallway forever until Leah spoke. “Alright, you don’t talk to me unless you have to. Keep your distance. I know you have to follow me but that doesn’t mean you need to be in my personal space. When I’m in surgery, you do exactly as I tell you. I don’t care if you think you know best. I am in charge of you.” Leah grumbled, seething with hatred. She began to stomp out of the hall, causing Awsten to run after her. “And one last thing, if I’m with my friends you keep your mouth shut and don’t talk to them. Got it, Intern?”

“My name is Awsten.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes as he continued to follow her.

“I’ll kill you. I’ll stab you in the middle of surgery and no one will know. Shut up and let’s go.”

On his very first day, Awsten said he wanted to work with Leah. He knew she was an amazing surgeon and all he wanted was to gain a little of her wisdom so that he could one day be as incredible as her or at least a little close to her level. He wanted to be great and learning from Leah would do just that but he didn’t think that she would be this rude to him. She really thought that he was going to be a total piece of shit. Well, he was going to have to make sure that she saw a different side to him. He was going to be a perfect surgeon and he was going to be a great person. At least, he was going to try. “My name is Awsten. Call me Awsten or Dr. Knight. I went to medical school and I was the best and the top of my class; I am a doctor. It would be nice to be treated like one.”

Leah sighed and rubbed her face, turning to look at Awsten. “Don’t talk to me like that. You are my intern now and I will call you Intern if I want to. And then if you somehow manage to earn my respect, then I’ll give it to you. Now, shut up and follow me.”

Awsten couldn’t stop the small smirk that crossed his face as he watched Leah walk away. He was going to get her respect and she was going to like him. And she’s pretty hot when she’s mad too.

Taglist:

@emilyxvalentyne @valentinelrh @loti18 @lustingfor5sos @mycollectionofnuts @ohhmuke @softboycal @norawashere @who-do-you-love-5sos @aftermidnightclifford @buggy-blogs @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt

#doctor!au #doctor!sos #doctor!awsten #doctor!awsten knight #doctor!awsten waterparks

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lucarioisinthevoid · 5 years

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*Sips Coffee * Anyone Know how to Frankenstein yourself an Au henry boi ._.

(3/5)"Oh I can help!" Dave called out. "Just make him super smart! So smart that he can basically see into the future! Because that's what Henry did!" And you certainly aren't looking at him through tinted lenses. "Ay, watch ya fuckin' mouth there, kiddo. I have a doctorate in kidden stranglin’. And it WAS like Henry could do that!" Shortly he considered. "Well, I suppose he was patient and watched people too before makin' his move. So he KINDA had stuff to go off. But really he's been crazy good with predictin' people even if he shouldn't have known things!" Most things can be predicted by assessing personality type. And if you tread carefully, you can even cover most of your bases by being JUST vague enough to be relatable to most personality types. "Perhaps. Fine. But a Henry ain't only smart, but he's also SUPER driven! Wants to know basically EVERYTHIN' and doesn't fear to risk himself to find out! He's brave! And fair!" "... more like, uh- uncaring." Phone Guy mumbled, as he came by. "If you want to make a Henry, just make a person who thinks everyone is only as worth as much they do for him. He, uh- you know. Was cold and mechanic when he didn't have to pretend... self-absorbed... but I guess not, uh- outright brutal. I think a Henry is defined by his willingness to disregard all moral rules." Good point."Uh- thank you!" Finally some appreciation from the strange voice. That was neat. Appreciation in general was neat. Maybe this voice was allowed to live for another day. Thank you Mr. Phone Man. Meanwhile Dave was staring Phone Guy down, aggressive. "Damn right I'm aggressive! Phoneys don't even know Henry. He's spoutin' bullshit!" Old Sport had joined and waited for these two to get wrapped up in a fight so he could talk alone to the Anon. Your chance, Sportsy.He nodded, then leaned forward to the Anon. "All it takes is to make him a maniac. If he's obsessed with one stupid goal and goes to ridiculous lengths to get there, it's a Henry. Make him delusional, self-obsessed and just a general psychopath." But give him a reason to believe in his goal! Not that it wouldn't be possible to make a classic Serial Killer Henry, but if you want to make him very recognizable, you should make him in a twisted sense relatabl- "You know what, narrator?" Old Sport snapped his neck around to stare into the fourth dimension. "You have no idea how to write a Henry. Henry is OOC. I am OOC. Dave is OOC. You have failed picking up on ANY theme the original creator put into their work and you might have conned people into liking these versions, it does not change the fact that you have NO idea how to write Henry. Or anything." Hah. Henry told me all of that before. You are really similar to h-"ALL I WANTED TO POINT OUT IS THAT YOU HAVE BIRTHED ME INTO THIS REALITY AND I WISH TO BE TAKEN OUT OF IT. WHY HAVE YOU CREATED ME? WHO AM I?" Jesus christ, calm down-"I AM NO JACK, I AM NOT WHO I WAS AS A CHILD, I HAVE NOBODY TO LOOK TO FOR GUIDANCE, YOUR CRUELTY KNOWS NO BOUNDS, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-" Okay, let's get away from this-Partially he's right. Write yourself out the characteristics that you think belong to a Henry, what lead to these traits, and what kind of role he takes up in the story. Maybe you should remember that Henry is a rather extreme person and will do anything to come to his goal- good or not. I think that makes for a good Henry. Also, I suppose you should make him irredeemable if he plays along with a Dave. Seeing as DirectDoggo meant to make him that way and put a lot of focus into it, I think that is his most important trait in a way. At least it was while I made him, which is why he’s a born psychopath in my version. WHEN YOU HAVE AN AU HENRY THOUGH, TELL ME ABOUT HIM. I LOVE AU HENRYS. AND I LOVE AUS. AND GENERALLY TALKING ABOUT DSAF STUFF. SO DO FEEL FREE TO TELL ME ABOUT ALL YOUR IDEAS IF YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT STUFF LIKE THAT.

#Dave Miller #old sport #phone guy

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dafheannaig13-blog · 5 years

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Dear BioWare: STOP SHITTING ON ANDERS

caught THIS wee gem from WoT, which claims that Anders ‘brings misery to everyone he encounters.’ i am having a slight rage aneurysm :-) SO.

BIOWARE

BIOWAAAAARRRRREEEEE

let me tell u a story, bioware.

there’s this thing called mental illness. a lot of people struggle with it every. fucking. day. of their fucking lives.

IT IS NOT FUN. It is painful and scary and leaves them ostracised by a vast swathe of people. it is in many cases incurable, meaning it can only be managed, meaning that people will be dealing with these difficulties for as long as they fucking live. it is like being a literal alien from out of space stranded on an unfamiliar planet where nobody is like u, nobody knows how to help u, and everything u do just increases the gaping chasm between YOU and ~normal~.

IT’S FUCKING TERRIBLE, is what i’m getting at here.

IT’S FUCKING TERRIBLE, and there are only so many things people like us can do to mitigate our suffering. YES, medication and therapy and meditation and self-soothing methods and a whole bunch of other things exist as treatment. Well done, you accomplished basic logic! :-D

BUT GUESS WHAT??? SOMETIMES, THAT ISN’T ENOUGH. And we have to come up with our own coping mechanisms to fill in the gaps.

I’m talking about FICTION. Fiction is what many of us turn to. Because we can make sense of those worlds. Because the distance allows us space to address issues that are too stressful in real life. Because the fact that the characters are fictional lets those of us with social issues achieve some MEASURE of emotional fulfillment. Thus, we become attached to those characters. They become our comfort characters, and they help us cope with the world that we do not, will never fit in to the way ~normal people uwu~ do.

FOR A BUNCH OF US??? ANDERS IS ONE OF THOSE CHARACTERS.

KNOW WHY??

It’s because he’s like us.

Anders is like us. He suffers, he fears, he tries, he fails, he lives, he struggles, he survives. He claws his way from the chasm’s edge, day in and day out, weary but unbroken. With bleeding nails and broken fingers, time and again he drags himself to safety, often with other, even more desperate people in tow, because despite all he has to deal with already, he still cares about others, still feels compassion and empathy for his fellow man, proves that even the most broken of people can still do good in the world and matter to someone.

Anders is like us, because he is seen as less by everyone around him. He is called whiny, delusional, ridiculous, crazy. He tries so desperately to do what he believes in despite being constantly fucked over. Every time things seem like they might get better for him, shite happens AGAIN and someone comes along to ruin it! As though he can’t catch a fucking break!! As though the world itself is trying to do away with him.

That is what mental illness feels like.

It feels like an endless fight. It feels like the fucking world is against you. It feels like nothing you do will ever be enough, like you’ll never be safe or happy or good like everyone else is. It feels like a losing battle, every fucking day of your life.

Because it is a battle. It is a battle that every mentally ill person fights, day after day after fucking day. Even when it seems like we’re doing nothing, we are fighting. Because we are fucking brave. We are fucking WARRIORS, and every day we live is another battle won. Some of us fall, it’s true. But we die with honour because we fucking tried. So EXCUSE US if we’re a bit ‘whiny.’ If we’re ~unpleasant~ to be around. If we come off as ridiculous or crazy. I’m sure it’s ever so difficult to have to be around someone like that. But consider for a moment how it might feel to live that way. To be that way always, and not be able to escape yourself. It’s not a pleasant thought, I’m sure. It’s certainly not a pleasant experience. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, because nobody deserves to feel this way. We deserve better.

We deserve to be able to see ourselves reflected in fiction in a positive, uplifting way. We deserve characters like us having good stories, satisfying arcs, and happy endings. And we want that for Anders, because Anders is like us. When u say that Anders brings misery to everyone he encounters? We hear you telling us that WE bring misery to everyone we encounter. When u tell us that Anders is universally despised, we hear that WE are universally despised. When u call Anders a monster, we hear u calling all of US monsters right alongside him.

Because when you create characters that everyone can see? THERE. ARE. CONSEQUENCES.

So DO be a BIT more CAREFUL in future, BioWare. Bc u have a platform, and with that platform comes influence. Every time you push your harmful stereotypes about Anders the ~Crazy Terrorist~, you make life that much harder for people with mental illness to get through the day alive. You make it that much harder for people like us to be shown the compassion and understanding we DESERVE, even when we make mistakes because of our mental illnesses. (WHICH! DOES! NOT! EXCUSE THEM! BUT JUSTICE APPLIED WITHOUT TEMPERANCE IS NOT JUSTICE. IT IS TYRANNY.)

You make it that much harder for people like ME to have courage enough to even speak to others, because I’m too afraid that they’ll notice how ‘wrong’ and ‘weird’ i am and decide to hurt me because of it. Think about that, the next time u create a character who is coded as mentally ill. Think about how u treat that character, and what ur treatment of that character will tell EVERYONE WHO PERCEIVES THEM. Think about what YOU would feel, if someone made a character JUST LIKE YOU, and then proceeded to shit ALL OVER THEM in a myriad of ways while actively fostering hatred of them in the FAN COMMUNITY as well as the GAME ITSELF.

Because THAT is how we feel. We love Anders. We love him because he’s like us, and we are NOT going to blindly accept your shite about how he’s ~a monster~ when all you’ve shown us is that he’s a flawed but compassionate person who, despite every fucking thing against him, still tried to save the lives of others. He is selfless and tragic and wonderful, and you can’t take that from us via authorial fiat.

edit: I would like to make clear that personally, I don’t see Anders as being mentally ill. (I give no credence to Hepler; she’s proven her own ignorance D-:<) His behaviour is all consistent with being a deeply traumatised member of a minority population, who has been the victim of extreme prejudice at the hands of the powerful in a system of injustice and abuse. I certainly won’t police the head-canons of others! BUT this is my belief personally, and I don’t think it makes ANY of Anders’s character or suffering OR ANY of my rant less valid. We relate to him because we have suffered, not because the source of our suffering was the same.

tl;dr: Anders belongs to US now. Stop shitting on him, or GET TAE FUCK.

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fleurdeliszt · 6 years

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this is ALL @abunnycotton ‘s fault. Pls direct all ur anon hate at her

For those confused, it’a sequel to this https://kimcottonbear.tumblr.com/post/183332179653/so-this-is-all-abunnycotton-s-fault-she-wanted

Also it should go without saying that this is a work of fiction. There's a a lot of bad stuff in here and if you ever meet a guy like this irl, run.

Warnings : emotional manipulation, abuse

“Don't you think that idol from XX company is creepy?” (+34, -1560)

“ㅋㅋㅋㅋ you mean the leader of the new boy group yeah he has serial killer vibes” (+20, -1005)

“YALL MUST be kidding bc that is an actual angel??” (+2070, -12)

“What do i-fans know of Koreans? ㅋㅋ go back to your country instead of leaving comments on Naver” (+17, -172)

“His eyes are so cold it's like he has no soul” (+23, -78)

“that's kind of my type tbh” (+268, -89)

“Aren't those all XX idols? Their company idols are all robots” (+134, -76)

There are downsides to letting you debut. For one thing you're very much in the public eye and it makes it very difficult for him to reach you.

For another it has encouraged unsavory individuals delusional fantasies about how you belong to them.

“they say if you stalk XX gg you will die” (+451, -170)

“lol wtf” (+781, -53)

“you shouldn't be stalking anyone in the first place (+1704, -5)

“No but really, it's just one member.” (+561, -351)

“this is ridiculous you're all idiots, stop stalking celebs and get a life” (+2718, -198)

“Hyung.”

He turns around.

The same boy who 5 years ago grinned at him carefree and happy now has an odd expression on his face.

He smiles, settling down on the sofa and beckoning the younger boy closer.

To his amusement, the boy merely flinches.

“Is there something wrong?” His tone is gentle, and the wounded expression on the boy's face grows.

“It's nothing hyung.”

Recently he's found it difficult to focus. It might have to do with the numerous articles being released about you.

It might have to do with your rising popularity. Or your recent dating scandal.

Or the fact that you were no longer under his control.

His and your schedules barely ever overlapped and he found it increasingly irritating that you had a world tour coming up in the next few weeks.

He himself had his musicals and various other projects and was just plainly too busy to bother with you, but--

But.

It was infuriating and agitating for things to not go his way.

He would clench his teeth and bear it for a while. But not for too long.

There is another award show tonight.

He's sick of them.

Yet, he smiles at the cameras as he always does and locks eyes with you for a beat longer than necessary.

Lights blink and flash wildly around the both of you as you bashfully duck your face and turn away. He lets a smile touch his lips.

A magazine falls in front of him.

‘Netizens suspect popular boy group member A to be dating labelmate,’ the headline seems to jump out at him. He hides his smile behind his mug of coffee.

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrow at his group member, “What's this?”

“Trashy rumors,” his fellow member sniggers, “But manager still wants to talk you. Don't get into trouble hyung.”

A pause and then,

“It's not real, is it?”

He stands up and walks to the door to meet his manager without answering the question.

You sit there, tears overflowing onto your cheeks.

You have never looked more beautiful to him. He wants to wipe away the tears and kiss the tear tracks, all the way up to your lips. However, there are other important matters to attend to.

Like the disappointed looks your managers are aiming at you both.

“Why are you harassing her over some netizen comments?” His voice is cold.

“You know it's not like that,” his manager hastily assures him, “It'd be fine if it's just random comments. But somebody's been leaking pics of both of you. It looks bad.”

Of course it did. He leaked them himself.

The crying by his side gets louder.

“This is such a bad time to be in a scandal,” your manager sighs,”Couldn't you have been a little more careful?”

“We aren't dating!” You exclaim, “Please explain to them,” you beseech him and he sighs.

“We aren't dating,” he repeats and both the managers give you incredulous looks.

“You're kissing her forehead here,” he points it out at you, and you turn crimson.

“We're friends.” Your denial irritates him to no extent, but it doesn't matter. At least, not now.

“You can release a statement saying as such. That we're really close or something.”

Your manager sighs. “So much trouble over nothing. Nobody will believe this we're just friends excuse. At this point I wish you were dating. It'd be easier to explain.”

“We'll discuss it with the CEO. You'll probably be called soon as well.”

He ducks his head in apology even though he can't stop the smile stretching his lips.

To his irritation, his company just chooses not to acknowledge the issue.

It blows over after a while, like everything always does in the entertainment industry.

It does have added unwanted effect of making your popularity skyrocket.

You're casted on more shows, more collaborations. Your talent is finally recognized, as countless people comb through your fancams to find flaws and instead find an honestly endearing girl.

The nation is smitten.

Fantastic, he thinks bitterly, sipping his coffee.

“Do you think hyung is dating her?”

“They seem close.”

“Do they really though? They barely ever hang out after that news release of him and her.”

“Should I ask her out then?”

“Are you insane? What if hyung knows?”

“What does it matter to him? It's not like they're dating.”

His fingers dig into his palms so hard he can see indents.

It's time for drastic measures.

He didn't want to do it. Not really. He liked maintaining status quo.

You forced his hand though. Quite impudent of you, but that's why he liked you.

Your world tour is next week.

He's at your place, not the dorms, your actual house, where you lived with your parents.

“I didn't know you needed that music file so urgently!” You look bashful,”I thought I could take the demo home and practice a bit.”

“Yes well, it's the only copy so we need it.” It's the only copy because he has deleted other copies but you didn't need to know that.

“Please wait a minute,” your entire face is crimson and he likes it. A lot.

You hand over the USB to him, hesitating. He knows you like him. He knows you want him to spend a little longer at your place. He knows and yet he waits for you to speak.

“Uh- do you want to eat or drink something?”

Perfect. He smiles politely at you, nodding as you disappear into the kitchen.

It's time.

Your scream sounds like music to him and as it's abruptly cut off he sighs. Oh well.

Arranging his face into concern and fear, he moves quickly to spot you lying at the bottom of the stairs, your leg sprawled at an unnatural angle.

He had to actively stop his smile because this had gone exactly, if not better than his plans.

He rushes you to the hospital.

“He was at her place lol how much more proof do we need” (+5647, -234)

“I'm so worried for her, it looks like she really will have to take a break, her leg looks bad” (+1236, -367)

“what a bitch lol inviting guys to her place. Bet he's not the first one” (+657, -200)

“will her concert schedules be okay, I got the tickets after so long now I can't see her” (+749, -137)

He refuses to leave the hospital.

Even though it's him that's the reason for all of this, he feels an unfamiliar niggling in his heart.

Guilt.

It's for your own good, he tells himself sternly.

He's just not sure he believes it anymore.

“He stayed here all night.”

“What?” You almost sit up, but the pain that shoots through your broken leg makes you whimper.

“Don't push yourself,” your leader smiles, “He must really like you, though.”

“He's just guilty probably,” you sigh. “That's just like him though, to feel guilty over things that are out of his control.”

“Do you want to see him?”

“Am I allowed to?” You pout, “They probably won't let him in because it'd cause a bigger issue.”

“Leave that to your unnie,” she grins at you, and you grin back, feeling lucky to be so loved.

“Hi,” he waves at you, a bit awkward, and so very handsome that you blush.

“Hi,” you smile back, feeling like a 14 year old once again.

“Is that… Are you feeling okay?”

“I am,” you smile, “I'm glad I hadn't broken my neck. The doctor said it's a very real possibility.”

He looks alarmed.

“It didn't happen!” You wave your arms at him, laughing, “I'm fine now.”

“But you would have...died.” The last word is a quiet whisper.

You shrug, trying to make light of it despite your fingers trembling against your sheets. “It didn't happen so, don't worry about it.”

He looks at your a moment, and pulls you into a sudden embrace.

“I couldn't bear to lose you.”

Your heart pitter-patters in your chest. He's so close to you, you can feel his warm breath washing across your neck, his large hands that grasp your waist, the lingering scent of last night's cologne mixed with something more him.

“I really wouldn't survive losing you,” he whispers, and your head spins with the implications of his words.

He pulls back, his eyes bright with intensity. “I love you.”

“So they were dating.”

“I'm glad I didn't ask her out, hyung would have murdered me.”

IS this over? Idk.. Did he change in those last few minutes of the story? Uh no.. He’still crazy, hes probably always going to be that way lol unless he gets help. I was really really really inspired by Toma from amnesia (if any of u have played that pls feel free to hit me up!!! Absolutely in love with Shin and uhh Toma sgdjdk pls don’t judge) I haven't had this urge to write in so longgg omg

#exo fanfiction #exo writing #feel free to send me requests bc suddenly I wanna wRITE

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imgilmoregirl · 6 years

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AO3 Link

Summary: Everybody in Storybrooke knew there was something wrong with the mysterious landlord, Mr. Gold, but nobody knew what. The truth was that behind the salmon walls of his big house lived two young children, whose curse he was desperately trying to break, as he looked helplessly for clues of what happened to their mother.

Notes: Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon A Time or any of the characters and storylines in the show. This is just a fanwork made for fun.

So, I wasn't supposed to be starting another fic, but I had this crazy dream and I just had to write it down. I have such a cool story in my head now and I really hope everyone can enjoy it with me!

Chapter 1

It all started like a dream. She came into his life out of nowhere, impossible as it was, bringing the magic with her. Ian Gold was never the same again. He used to think about his time with her as a blur, too fast and too overwhelming to be true, the kind of perfect period of life that you can’t believe existed if you don’t have anything to prove it was real. Gold would think himself delusional if he didn’t have two beautiful proves to assure him every single day that everything he lived with Belle wasn’t a product of his twisted mind.

He missed her. For weeks after she disappeared his life was condemned to searching for clues that could lead him to his beloved, but Belle was never found and then, came the curse. Ian wouldn’t have noticed, if Rose hadn’t started acting strangely. She had always been a sweet girl, very bubbly and cheerful, just like her mother, but when she started to get quiet and stay near to the water tank on their backyard, he knew something had changed.

Gideon was the next to start staring at it as if he was hypnotized and then, one day, all of the sudden, he found them laying inside of it, eyes fixed on the sky above them. For a moment, he freaked out, until he noticed the gills on the side of their necks and the purple light surrounding them that he understood what was happening. He tried to wake them from the spell, many, many times, but it was only when the sun was set that both his children were released from it.

They talked about the amazing palace in which they had spent the whole day playing and about the beautiful doll that couldn’t talk but that held their hands and looked after them whist they played. Rose then related that came a woman and told her that she and her brother must stay in the water from lunchtime to sunset every single day of their lives otherwise, they would die.

He couldn’t let that happen, of course, so he made sure that his sweet five-year-old girl and two-year-old boy would be in the tank as the sorceress – or whatever that woman was – instructed. That, unfortunately meant that he spent all the day without his children, trying to find an answer that could reunite his family and break that curse. However, Gold was only a normal man, he didn’t know this magical world in which his Belle lived and he didn’t have much resources. He had fallen in love with a mermaid, now he was paying the price of it.

Six years ago.

Gold had never been a fan of the sea. He didn’t know why he found himself sat by the water that day, but maybe it had something to do with the fact Milah, his ex-wife, had called him drunk in the middle of the day to brag about how wonderful her new boy-toy was in bed. Way better than he ever was, she made sure to remark. It made Gold feel sick, he wasn’t missing her even a bit, but he also didn’t want her to keep calling just to bother him now that their relationship was over.

His trousers were full of sand and he had taken off his suit jacket and tie, something he very rarely did in public. Gold threw his head back, allowing the sunlight to bath his face, the new warmth, giving him some kind of hope he hadn’t felt for a long time.

“Are you alright?” A strange, but lovely voice asked from somewhere near him.

When Gold looked back, he saw that a beautiful brunette was standing there, wearing only a blue bikini and a pair of sunglasses. She was like a vision from Heaven. He had never seen her around town, never, and Gold knew everyone, so he wondered when that ethereal goddess had arrived town and why he had missed it.

“Aye,” he answered. “I was just thinking.”

The woman smiled fondly at him, taking a seat by his side. No one enjoyed his company, no one. Usually people would never approach him if they didn’t have to, this was very new for Gold. He was pretty sure that he was staring at the young lass like a fool, but the way she kept grinning so sweetly at him didn’t help Ian to get any less spell-bounded.

“Oh, I know how is that, I like to get alone to think very often too. I hope I’m bothering you.”

“No! Of course, not,” he said, way too quickly. “You know, I have never seen you around… I’m Ian Gold, the landlord of most properties in this town, so if you need a place to stay, I could help with that.”

Tilting her head, the girl took off her sunglasses, revealing a pair of gorgeous blue eyes of deep and dark colour, the same one he was seeing a minute ago when he stared at the sea. Gold couldn’t’ look away from her, it was like she was a siren and he was a stupid pirate, enticed by her spell.

“I can’t go very far away from home, but I would love for you to show me this beautiful town,” she answered. “I’m Belle, by the way.”

“Belle,” Gold said slowly, testing the sound of her name in his lips. “I would love to show you Storybrooke.”

She touched his cheek then and, for a moment, her eyes seemed to show some sadness that he didn’t really understand where could have come from, but Belle was touching him, so Ian was too distracted to keep wondering too long about that. The brunette caught a strand of his hair between her fingertips and leaned forward, smelling his scent.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about me,” Belle whispered. “They will forget they saw us, you won’t, but you also won’t speak.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he agreed like a fool. “Anything you want.”

Belle pulled away from him and stood up, holding out a hand for Gold to take. He didn’t quite know what he was doing and he would have no idea what he was getting himself into for a really long time. For now, he was only going to get more and more bewitched by that strange woman, until he found himself helplessly in love with her, willing to do anything to have her in his life forever.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #mine #writing #rumplestiltskin #belle french #gideon gold #mermaid AU #new fic

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heart-lollipop · 4 years

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Game recognize game, or: reasons he is a manipulative, controlling narcissist and how i can tell because i’m one too

1) he invited me to see Penguin Highway which was cute and I super enjoyed it, but he told me we would meet at this gaming store, which obviously was not my meeting point of choice, but it's just a point of gathering. He bought the tickets and so I kind of had to meet him to see the movie bc I e-transferred him instead of just buying myself a ticket, so allowing him to have control of the event in question. I confirmed with him multiple times when we were meeting and where, when we got closer and closer to the point. The day of, I asked him, where are you? I'm in front of the store, it's closed? And he finally responded that he was on the way, so I was like, fine whatever. Then he called me and was like, “where are you? We're at the theatre,” so he made it seem like I made them wait for me, but whatever, the movie was going to start, so I let it go.

Afterwards, we talked about it, and he made me think it was my own fault for not having my shit together, that I was crazy and delusional and made the mistake myself, but I found receipts and was like, “wtf you made me think it was my fault when I tried to communicate, but you changed your plans and didn’t tell me.” And then he admitted that the plans were only changed last minute and forgot about me. Which like, wtf, because he was totally fine with dismissing me instead of trying to understand what was going on with me.

He tried to blame me for a miscommunication that he was responsible for, and made me think I was being too rigid when I asked for accountability.

2) He started a DnD group with two of his friends and me. He already had an existing DnD group with these two friends and some other friends of his. He didn't explain anything to me. None of them really explained anything to me. They kept talking about their inside jokes and their common topics of interest and their mutual friends, and I was there, and I enjoyed what I could, but I didn't really have fun.

I definitely flaked out on them, but to be completely honest, why the hell was I even invited? He knew I was interested in DnD but that I knew nothing about it and nobody he knew. I was automatically an outcast socially since I didn't know anybody; he didn’t try to bridge the gaps between his friends and me, didn't explain shit about the game or the dynamics, and didn’t spare me any thought.

So like firstly, why did he even start the group in the first place when he already had a group with these same exact people? I wanted to be flattered, so I thought it was because he wanted to hang out with me, but really, he wanted to control me. I was an easy target since I came into the picture completely new, completely at the mercy of whoever was there. His friends he knew and trusted, so I was isolated from the get go.

And like, I'm not so delusional to think it was all about me. I'm sure he definitely wanted a chance to roleplay a maverick type character which he has always seen himself to be; naruto-esque. I'm also sure that he hung out with these friends all the time, and orchestrating an activity where he had multiple people reinforce his self image was most likely a regular occurrence.

3) He helped me build my PC: a) the cooler may be upside down, bc it's supposed to act as exhaust but the direction its facing is the other way; b) the HDD was jammed into the drive bay unevenly, so when he plugged in the SATA cable, it stuck out and prevented the case from being closed properly.

I let it go for almost two years, and when I brought up b), he dismissed my concern and said that I should just get different cables.

I figured out, BY MYSELF, that he had inserted the drive the wrong way around (the back facing the front) so when it's plugged in the cables stuck out. With help and support and cheerleading from A, I was able to channel my rage into arm strength and brilliance and removed the tray, unclicked the drive, turned it around, clicked it into place, plugged in the cables and slid the tray back home.

WITH NO HELP FROM THAT FUCKER WHO MAY HAVE SEEDED MY PC WITH PROBLEMS SO HE COULD FIX THEM HIMSELF, INGRATIATE HIMSELF TO ME, AND CONVINCE ME TO FUCK HIM

OR HE DIDN’T GIVE HALF A SHIT ABOUT ME AND USED ME TO FUEL HIS EGO ABOUT BEING A GOOD GUY BY HELPING A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS WHO IS GOOD AT NOTHING ON HER OWN SO HE JUST PUT THE PC TOGETHER IN THE MOST SLAPDASH WAY POSSIBLE

And I can’t decide which option is more heinous. Either one would certainly not be worse than a mixture of both.

And like I'm mad at him and feel like I have a right to be. He's a slimy piece of misogynistic nice-guy trash who used me. Of course I fell for it because I wanted to use him too. I really only contacted him to build my PC, and am pissed i wasted my time trying to even pretend it wasn’t about that.

I'm petty and disgusting but hey, he's no innocent either. I know he was DTF because I told him I found his friend attractive and he completely like got quiet and sullen with me. I'm so relieved that I thought he was too gross to sleep with and god, just the depth of love I feel for myself for having been unable to compromise on these standards will save me from hell lmao.

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cameiotmagazine-blog · 7 years

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"A Secret Honor" review

In this, what I was to call older things that I like, and wanna write about, because, why not? I wanna look at Robert Altman's A Secret Honor, and/or The Last Testament of Richard Nixon.

Recently I reread Alan Moore's Good Reads interview, which is, by the way, a great interview if you wanna get into the ideas that Moore thinks about and the very sad about the personal fallings-out that he had with a lot of his good friends, over a lot of some of his greatest work. And get a lot of really good recommendations for books, but that's besides the point. The larger thing.

So he brought up A Secret Honor recently, and that inspired me to give that a rewatch. And my God, it's a good movie. Secret Honor is maybe the best Nixon movie, and that's a high order, but I think I can justify it. Starring Philip Baker Hall in maybe his best performance. I like Philip Baker Hall, but this is truly the Philip Baker Hall show, because he's the only actor in it. But it's that old chestnut of, you know, if you're a really good actor is that you can hold an entire movie by yourself. And that's definitively true here.

It's sometime after Watergate, and he's left the Presidency. He's alone in his study. And there's a bunch of pictures placed around, including Kennedy, which ... I don't know, that was kind of funny. It's like, did Nixon really have a picture of Kennedy? His single most hated enemy, the man that every time he looked at it, bitterly reminded him of all the things he wished he could be? Maybe.

Talking into a tape recorder. Dick, always with the tape recorder. Always the tape recorder. it starts normally, and somewhat humorously in that he doesn't really know how tape recorders work - well, this one. He starts drinking more, and he drinks and pulls out a gun, which he loads. And what starts as a rational Nixon-ish ideal turns into a batshit insane rambling monologue, where he attempts to where he acts as his own prosecutor to an unseen jury, judge and jury, and tries to explain the nature of Nixon and every action he committed. And it's a go-through of his personal life, his Presidency. And he goes further and further, and it makes some very disturbing claims.

It talks about potential people that were in control. And it ends with him claiming that Watergate was his noble sacrifice to the American people, by helping him get out of Watergate, of the Presidency, so they couldn't reverse the third term, which ... it has popped up in the news, reverts ... I think it's the 22nd Amendment, and allowed him to run for a third term, which suddenly became relevant again with the crazed madman in China talking about that.

The performance is excellent, and ... I had wondered slightly about this, 'cause there's some fairly conspiratorial things that Nixon is rambling about. Of course, A, Nixon is getting drunker and drunker and angrier and angrier, and the recurring theme is that Nixon is a paranoid person who does not know, who is trying to justify himself in every regard and hates everyone and everything.

And it's interesting, 'cause ... I'm sure some young film student like me thought this briefly, but decided "Oh God no, I'm not doing that." Will look at this film and go like, "You know what I probably should do, is do this with Trump." And I'm sure at some point, there will be. Maybe. And I thought, really look at it. 'Cause everything he did wrong is "Nope, not me. It's this conspiracy, or it's these powerful people all against me, and they're all looking out to get me, and it's the money, and the power. And I am uncontrolled in it."

Nixon in here is a raving lunatic, and this movie is scary in some ways, truthfully. Like really scary.

There's a great little setup with, there's four. There's a security camera, and there's four images. you can see Nixon with four different images, and that's a weirdly powerful visual. I can't totally explain it, except that the low resolution of it makes it look off, in a large way.

I was horrified in a weirdly sympathetic ... Nixon, in the end, just seems so destroyed by everything. This is a person that no matter what he did, feels destroyed. He was the most powerful, but in a weird way he still felt powerless. It's impossible to look at, I don't know. And I think if you look at him in that context, that movie ages beautifully. As a paranoid, very delusional person whose life is in shambles, and no matter what he did, he can never really experience true happiness.

It's interesting. This is a Robert Altman movie, and Robert Altman is just, I don't know. Maybe one of the all time, maybe greatest American filmmakers that ever existed. Whose every single film is brilliant and beautiful in some way. And he made so many, it's crazy. This might be one of my favorites of his, and that means probably it's one of my favorite movies. I don't like to assign roles like that.

There's an interesting parallel that Altman himself was essentially in exile, because he did this as essentially a final project for his students at the University of Michigan, where he was teaching film. Although unlike Nixon, Altman was welcomed back heartily. I've seen a lot of reviews compare the two, and there's something there. But I don't know totally. I think that's maybe why Nixon comes off you know, he's a crazy madman who's allowing his paranoid delusions to finally take hold of him. The paintings around him, he feels are in constant judgment of him.

He just feels betrayed, fundamentally, by the system he dedicated himself to. It's a system he hated and resented and knew it would betray him, but he did it anyways. And maybe there's a way Altman is in there, and feels that. And this concept of secret honor is an interesting one, I find. That nobody else will give Nixon honor; nobody else will allow him that. So he has to make the honor himself, and say "Nobody understands this but me, that I have this honor in the world."

The filming is just fantastic. There's very little music in it, but you don't need it. Philip Baker Hall's performance is a beautiful opera performance. That's all you need. I love Philip Baker Hall, but Philip Baker Hall is one of these really great actors that is a kind of a guy who'll just ... if you pay Philip Baker Hall, Philip Baker Hall will be in a movie for you. So sometimes he uses that natural gravitas to not really care, you know. But this, he's utterly perfect. I'm not disparaging Philip Baker Hall, I'm just saying that Philip Baker Hall enjoys money and having it I believe he's the one who commissioned this idea, not 100% certain about that. But whatever.

It's great. There's a repeated thing where Nixon loses his train of thought, and he plays that brilliantly. I feel like that's a little bit of a thing that attracted Altman, is it's a weirdly ... for a monologue, it has realistic diction a lot of the time. And he'll try and say something, like one of the recurring jokes in this is, he'll say a phrase that is well known, and he'll go like, "We were both ... you know, you know. You know, that. That."

He can't bring himself to say almost half the stuff he wants to say. There's an interesting, very telling line where he talks about pact. You know, he says "Of course, I Ahhh Ahhhh."

The difference between Nixon and Trump, I think is the idea of I think in a lot of ways, Nixon felt heartbroken by all of the things that were said about him. Whereas Trump feels just pure anger at all the things that are said about him. Which is good.

This is a great film. Fundamentally. If you wanna see ... I recently got into kind of a bit of an argument with a friend, not an argument. A tiff. Where they talked about how films are too expensive to make. And that frustrated me, 'cause it's like, you know, great films can be made with very limited resources, and this is kind of the perfect example of that. One actor, one set, absolutely brilliant in every regard. I can't recommend this enough.

#Robert Altman #Richard Nixon #Philip Baker Hall #A Secret Honor

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nellie-elizabeth · 7 years

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Supernatural: The Big Empty (13x04)

This season is kicking serious ass. I love it so much I cannot even tell you. Let's just dive right in!

Cons:

My complaints are really minor. There's a moment at the end when Jack steps in and saves the day, but the special effects looked pretty goofy. They did this sort of subwoofer sound effect and slow-mo and his eyes glowed gold and it was just kind of hokey.

Pros:

That's literally my only complaint. I sat there for a second trying to come up with something else I disliked, and I couldn't.

The main story involves Sam, Dean, and Jack hunting down a shifter who is disguising himself as lost loved ones before killing his victims. They think they've found the culprit, a therapist named Mia, but she proves her innocence. She is a shifter, but she uses her powers to give her patients a chance for closure. Turns out, it's her terrible, abusive ex-boyfriend, Buddy, who is also a shifter and who is trying to take away her happiness. The shifter gets the best of Mia, Dean, and Jack while Sam is away following up on a lead. It looks like Sam is going to get shot when he walks in the door, as Buddy has the whole situation rigged, but Jack manages to access his powers in time to save the day.

First of all, I like that the plot was simple and straightforward. We didn't need five different twists, we didn't need too many detours. Dead people are killing living folks. Ghost? No. That's ruled out. Shifter? Yes. The first shifter they find? No. I was almost waiting for yet another double cross, and was pleasantly surprised when it never arrived.

And speaking of, I really liked Mia! The moment when Sam realizes she's a shifter, and comes bursting into the room with a gun, was the perfect subversion of expectations. Sam and Dean both hold a gun on her, but she explains her innocence and the boys actually let her explain herself. They've certainly come a long way from shooting monsters on sight! And I loved the parallels that this created with Jack. Mia has learned to believe that being a "monster" isn't everything. It's not what you are - it's what you do with that. I was really pleased that while the disgusting, abusive Buddy got the ax, Mia lives to fight another day.

Jack is... just adorable and precious in all ways and I want to adopt him? I love that Sam and Dean are taking on pseudo-parenting roles with him, albeit very unwillingly in Dean's case. Sam accuses him of being like their father was, and Dean shoots back defensively, wondering if there's a problem with that. Both Sam and Mia point out to Dean that Jack is clearly scared of him, and just wants his approval. There's such a sad echo of Dean's own desperate seeking of approval with his father. It seems pretty clear that Dean can't look at Jack without being reminded of what he's lost, but by the end of the episode he throws the kid some praise, telling him he did a good job when saving Sam and Dean's life. This is such an utterly fascinating dynamic and I can't wait to see where it goes from here.

One of the highlights of the episode is Jack and Mia's private moment, where Mia shifts into the shape of Kelly, to give Jack the chance to talk to her and hold her and feel as if he's with his mother for the first time. This was just so emotional in every way shape and form, and the acting was spot-on.

Then you've got the Sam and Dean dynamic going on. The two of them, along with Jack posing as their little brother, go to therapy with Mia to try and figure out what's going on with the deaths in town. It's meant to be just for show, but Dean lets his resentment out into the session when he accuses Sam of being delusional for not admitting that Mary is dead. Sam lets out with one of the key reasons behind his grief - Dean was the one who had the relationship with Mary. Dean's the one who remembers her from when they were little, and Dean's the one she connected with upon her return. How is Sam supposed to accept that he's lost the chance to have a real relationship with his mother? He storms out of the room.

Now, in any other episode of Supernatural, Sam and Dean might have a fix-it conversation at the end and things would get a little better, but in this one, the outburst literally happens in front of a therapist, who calls Dean out in no uncertain terms: "you just made your brother so upset that he had to leave the room." In the end, we do get that fix-it conversation, and it's even more heartbreaking that you'd imagine. Dean apologizes for being a dick, and then Sam reveals an awful fear - what if Dean is right, and Mary really is dead, and he's just been in denial? Dean says he doesn't want to hear that - "I need you to keep the faith for both of us, because right now I don't believe in a damn thing." Dean admitting that he's hit rock bottom and he's willing to accept help from Sam is just such a critical turning point for their character arcs this season. I'm all about it.

This episode's title is "The Big Empty," which of course refers to the subplot with Cas that I'll be talking about next... but it also refers to the theme of grief that's prevalent through the episode. It's notable that nobody in the main plot ever mentions Cas' name. On the surface, the grief in this particular story is centered on the loss of mothers - Jack grieves for Kelly and Sam and Dean grieve for Mary. Jack learns that Sam wants him to help save Mary, and he's all on board for the plan, while of course Dean doesn't believe it's possible. We get all of these conversations and moments to talk about grief and the emptiness and lack of faith that comes with it, and meanwhile the specter (not literally in this case) of Castiel is hovering over the entire episode. We know he's not really gone, but on earth he's just left an emptiness.

Okay. Misha Collins. You're amazing, dude. This week, he gets to pull out yet another character, playing The Empty as a manifestation of the nothingness that came before the creation of everything. It's just a black nothingness, infinite and older than time itself. I love the idea of a place where eternal sleep is really a thing. It's not Heaven, but it's not Hell. You're just... done. And the manifestation of the Empty is eternally asleep as well, that is until Cas wakes up (thanks to Jack's powers) and starts disturbing his beauty rest. Cue a series of scenes where the Empty tries to get Cas to just give up and go back to sleep, and Cas stubbornly refuses to do so. In the end, we see Cas wake up, apparently back on Earth.

The Empty had this weird accent and this sort of jittery sense about him that reminded me a little bit of Crazy God Cas or Casifer, but not enough that it was just a copy of either of those things. Misha did a great job of creating a properly sinister yet still undeniably charming entity in the brief time we had with the Empty. The character creation was also good from a writing standpoint. It makes sense why this guy wouldn't be a mover and a shaker in inter-dimensional politics or power struggles. He's made of nothing and he'd just like to be nothing for the rest of time. Cas being awake is messing with that for him.

You've also got the fact that Cas' first guess when asked why he's awake is that the Winchesters must have made a deal to save him. He's not sure what's up, but the minute he has awareness of himself, all he wants is to go back, because Sam and Dean need him. The Empty tries to get through to him with self-loathing, telling him he's a worthless burden, that there's nothing waiting for him back on Earth... he says some stuff about knowing Cas' inner soul, and mentions knowing "who you love," which my shipper heart reacted to quite violently. Jury's still out on that one, though - it's possible the Empty was talking about Kelly. Or, I don't know, "humanity" or some crap like that. Regardless, the most incredible thing about all of this is that it doesn't work. Cas does not waiver in his desire to escape from the Empty, because he knows that his family wants him to come back. This is such a big step for Cas, who just a few seasons ago was allowing Lucifer to possess him because he didn't think he was worthy of helping out in his own right.

I've seen some rumblings in the interweb worrying that the figure we saw at the episode's end was the Empty, and not Castiel. I definitely see the worry, but I'm really hoping, for the sake of selfish desires and narrative building, that this is Cas, truly back from the dead. They created such a cool concept for the Empty, a creature of nothingness that just wants to sleep. It would be weird if that creature popped into the mortal realm for no good reason. And also, we've got the scene transition, where Dean tells Sam that he doesn't believe in a damn thing, and then literally the next shot is Cas appearing back in our world, pretty much ordained with the sole purpose of restoring Dean Winchester's faith. I am just all about that.

So... there you have it. This was an excellent episode. I'm enormously pleased that Jack seems to be sticking around as a more permanent figure in the season instead of jumping in and out of the story like so many cast members have in the past. I can't wait for Cas' return and all the epic reunions!

9.5/10

#review #supernatural #supernatural review #spn #13x04 #the big empty

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canadian-riddler · 7 years

Text

Solitary Confinement

By Indiana

Characters: Edward Nygma

Synopsis: They’re told over and over again that they’re sent to the Asylum to get help. What people refuse to understand is there’s not much help to be had.

AO3

Everyone soon learns that there’s being smart, and then there’s being a smartass.

Being smart largely involves not being a smartass. That point is driven home fast when one discovers rolling their eyes inadvertently is enough to get on some overzealous guard’s shit list. The lists are often long, and marked with transgressions both imagined and very real. Some people never learn. There are a few who can’t. There are a few who won’t. Sometimes, being stupid is all there really is to do.

The people who run these places either puff out the wrongdoings with all the wonderful programs they have to rehabilitate the poor lost souls they’re housing, or they put their fist down on the piece of furniture nearest and look any concerned citizens right in the eye as they ask, “Do you honestly believe a murderer deserves cable TV?” Everyone at the Asylum learns fast that said programs do not exist, and inquiring into them is met with a disapproving shake of the head.

(They’ve all heard it so many times: “You killed someone I knew. You think you deserve more than someone who got caught up in your sick games? If it were up to me, you’d be down there.”)

He’s been down there before. A few times. Not because he’s stupid, obviously; he’s nothing of the sort. But a man says things he shouldn’t when he’s tired and hungry and has just been roundly assaulted by fists clad in harder armour than they have any rights to be. The thought grinds his teeth together. The material is to prevent his hands from breaking during night after night of driving them into zygomata and sterna and the like over and over and over again. A brutal one-man military force who had taken it upon himself to combat everything with vicious, unrelenting violence. Sickening. He was worth a prison sentence rivalling that of any of the higher security inmates. But somehow those of authority found his morals more silver than soot, and those who stood up to him lost every time.

He could admit that ‘standing up to’ was the wrong way to think about it. Imagining oneself standing between a dictatorial bastion of justice and the downtrodden, misunderstood subjects of his wrath was akin to delusion. No smart person became delusional. It was simply foolish. It was smarter to understand and admit that anyone who landed in here was here because of himself and himself alone, and his own selfish goals – though pretending that loon was not himself selfish was a delusion all of its own – and he was of course very, very smart.

Except for yesterday. And Tuesday. And the Saturday before. The problem with being down here is that there was little to do but become angry. Angry that he was down here in the first place. Angry that they wouldn’t turn the lights off at night. Angry that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

(He’d asked for and filled out the relevant human rights violations forms many times. Sometimes his stay was extended; others, they would wait until one of the rare hours he was allowed elsewhere and then shred them in front of him.)

There was no way to keep track of the time. There should have been. There had been. Originally. The first few times he’d been sent down here his cell had had a television, albeit an old one, and a radio. Every time within three days he’d become convinced someone was spying on him through the screen, or listening through the speakers, and he’d destroyed them in a fit he could only remember in a detached sort of way. As though he had been a ghost, somewhere, passively and disinterestedly watching as someone who looked like him and sounded like him and trembled like him caved to the paranoia that had been his shadow for so many years now. It was honestly a little frightening, even to himself, because he had tried many times to connect himself to that memory of that man driving his broken fists into the crumpled pile of plastic and glass and wire that clearly had no further use whatsoever, but he couldn’t. The only further instance of him even having done it were the recollections of himself on the floor smeared with his own frenzied blood and hands swollen enough he couldn’t get them through the slot to be handcuffed in order for someone to take away the mess.

(Most of them didn’t particularly care what he’d done to himself; he deserved it, after all. But anything usable as a weapon was removed as soon as its existence was discovered, and he had never been quite able to get over what he’d done fast enough for it to occur to him to derive a weapon.)

So he didn’t have those, neither to tell the time nor to pass it. In retrospect it had only made the problem worse. The few days would go by and he’d be right back to believing he was being watched again, through this crack or that stain or that hole, but there was nothing to destroy. He did not want to end up one of those crazies, scraping their nails off on the unforgiving cement leaving smeared blood and jagged fingertips and the unrelenting urge to bite deeper into the wounds because opening them up provided a twisted sense of purpose. He was no stranger to writing on walls, but only when it held meaning. Witnessing his own destruction spelled out in front of him would have been useless. It did nothing except extend his stay. After about a week, someone would put a pill on the trays of food he was given – if you could call Nutraloaf that – and he would line them up on the floor and stare at them. For hours at a time, sometimes. He knew what they were for. He could hear full well his adjacents screaming and crying about people watching them, and listening to them, and filling their ears with ill-will. Those people took them. They didn’t understand how to navigate their minds in a too-bright room like he did. They took them, and they lived for them, and sometimes they became docile enough they went back upstairs. They broke, in a way that the screaming and the crying didn’t denote. They compromised themselves to leave the box.

(He’d been in the box a long time. Several boxes, all at once. The trick was understanding that the box was not always something to escape; sometimes it was something to cherish. Sometimes it was all that really contained everything a man was.)

He knew what the point of being here was. He was supposed to lose his mind enough that he would ‘behave’, and he used to. He used to do that. He used to be afraid of them, and this room, and all the manufactured bravado in the world couldn’t mask that. He would sit quietly and wait and wait and wait, and they would take him back upstairs and tell him he could put himself back together. But quietly. And he would, because he was used to it. It was what he did. He came close to that again, sometimes; sometimes it wasn’t worth it to take a stand nobody was going to acknowledge. He came close to swallowing the pills and sitting politely on the floor and keeping quiet when they kicked him out of the fifteen degree shower while his hair was still matted with the wrong kind of soap. Life was easier that way.

(But when had his life ever been easy?)

As time went on, it became increasingly clear that he did not even have to do anything in order to get some sort of punishment enacted on him. It didn’t matter if he held his tongue or kept his eyes to himself. There were people who just plain didn’t like him, and that was justification enough for them. It was sometime after he realised this that he stopped caring. Giving himself a voice was worth being hit over. He could take it. These people never seemed to realise he’d been through worse. Things he didn’t like thinking about, but worse things all the same.

In this room he was forced to face many things he could not anywhere else, not that he could here, either. Parts of his life went forgotten for a reason. Here there was little else to do but remember. He’d heard the pills went a long way to dulling that. But this was why he put them on the floor in the first place. You never knew what the person before you had done in here, but you did know it wasn’t pretty, or civilised. These cells had a funny way of making a man cease caring about anything but revenge. All manner of bodily fluids had been spilled here, many of them for the sole purpose of getting one in on the guards when a chance was to be had. He’d never done it. Thought about it, obviously; he’d thought about plenty of outlandish and ridiculous things in here, and that was after considering his unusual career choice. Staring at the perfect little line of pills made him wonder what he could do with them. Not now, in particular; there was not a whole lot of things to do anything with them with. He was barely permitted to keep the clothes he was wearing. Sometimes he would line them up vertically, instead of horizontally, and use them as physical manifestations of the bullet points in his brain, and he would make plans. The contents of the plans didn’t matter. Some of them were questionable, and unsustainable. But it was better to give them consideration and allow them to pave the way for better ideas as opposed to trying to push them aside. And it was something to do, after all.

(The last time he had taken any of these kinds of pills had been long ago, promised by his school counsellor to his father to make him less ‘disruptive’. He’d learnt fast what that really meant.)

Being down here was hard. There were people an arms’ length away but behind unforgiving concrete. He could hear their voices but not what they were saying. And it smelled like loss. Sometimes the smell of old blood woke him up at night, chest heaving, because it brought reminders of those things he was keeping from himself. And he would lie back down, and fold his arms across his chest to encourage it to settle or perhaps to mask it was out of sorts at all, and he would remind himself not to break. It was what they wanted. It was what everybody had wanted out of him since he’d taken his first breath, and it would be so until he drew his last. But he wouldn’t. They could damage him as much as they liked, and he would patch himself up stronger than before. They could keep him in this room for the next several months, and never turn this damned light off, and halve his rations for any imaginary transgression they could come up with. Every day he’d become stronger. More solid. He would reach as deep into himself as he had to, and even if he never came back the same he would not do as they wanted. That was what he was here for in the first place, after all. No authority on this earth would bend him to its will. No man, woman, or Bat would change him. That was his decision.

(“He’s been down here for six months. I swear this guy gets weirder every time. Word is they put him here just for kicks. Talks to himself a lot. He’s convinced himself staying down here proves some point of his. If it weren’t so funny it might be sad.”)

He was sent down here every time he was returned to the Asylum. It didn’t matter if he did anything to deserve it; his existence was enough to some. He was used to that. It was nothing new. And as he had always done, he would be smart. And being smart meant being angry, because of all the few things he was allowed to do in here that was the most productive. The thing that kept him focused. That gave him something to work with that could not be taken away. It was a quiet anger, a rational one; every day they left him down here he learned further how to refine it into a weapon greater than any even he had built before. They thought they could break him. Make him a docile and harmless half-wit who kept his head down and spoke only when spoken to and they could eventually send out into the general population, crowing how effective and beneficial to society it was to lock a man into a box and give him a wall to stare at for days and weeks and months at a time. He wasn’t going to do that, wasn’t going to prove that point for them. They took everything away in an attempt to trick him into doing so, but he wouldn’t fall for that. They could drive him to hallucinate, and take his sheets away, and converse about what a foolish mess they thought he was within what they knew full well was his limited range of hearing, but he wasn’t going to let them win. He knew how to play this game, and he was going to win. No matter what the cost.

(He knew, sometimes, that the cost had already been paid and it was already far too high. But what could he do but pretend it didn’t matter?)

Everyone soon learns that there’s being smart, and then there’s being a smartass. One keeps you out of trouble, and the other lets you keep your dignity. Once you’ve crossed the threshold you’ve somehow lost your right to have both.

Author’s note

This is neither the flavour text I mentioned, nor is it part of the DJ AU (obvs).

The other day I came across this article about solitary confinement. People who are sent there routinely go insane and/or hurt themselves just to feel something. They get sent there for little to no reason half the time and are treated like the scum of the earth whether they deserve to be there or not. As sad as it was, it made me think about Arkham Asylum, which in most canons that I can remember is much more a prison than it is a hospital. We all know Arkhamverse is my main canon, but beyond that we have A Serious House on Serious Earth, Living Hell, even in BTAS they’re mostly shown to sit in cells all day long and sometimes a psychiatrist comes along to make a point about how irredeemable they are or to snark at them or they get to watch TV to make some plot point. I know little about prisons or mental hospitals, but from what little I know of both the Asylum is far more a prison than a helpful facility across the board. Which brings me to the connection I’m making: solitary is treated as nbd. Joker gets sent there as a matter of course, Riddler is depicted in a cell with a solid steel door and nobody is to talk to him. Why? No real reason, except that someone thought they were annoying and wanted them out of the way. Which is one of the unjustified reasons to send someone to solitary.

A lot of people, including me, tend to treat the Asylum as some convenient home away from home that everyone in there can just stroll around and escape whenever they darn well like, even though it’s often renovated by the infinitely paranoid Bruce Wayne and staffed by people who are tired of being ridiculed and manipulated by people who, largely, refuse rehabilitation because it spoils the game they’re playing. But much subtext points to the Asylum being more of a superprison which the inmates can do whatever they like in for plot convenience. Once I realised that, and that solitary is not the joke it’s made out to be, I wanted to address it a little.

Some people may want to argue with me about how the Asylum is actually a kind and helpful place and isn’t what I’m saying it is, but I am not interested in arguing that. This is how I see it and you don’t have to like it but you’re not going to change my mind.

#so says indy #riddler #fanfic #the riddler

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serenagaywaterford · 5 years

Note

what do you think fred was thinking when june and serena where having their one on one in front of him?? and uff june ignoring him so she could talk to serena is just *chef kiss* i

Honestly that scene… was brilliant. I think Fred is a pretty simple guy. IMO, there were only 3 things going through that tiny brain of his:

- Fury

- Impotence

- Self-pity

Probably in that order too.

Fred has tried for so fucking long to get between these two. He loved it when they were at each other’s throats (or more importantly, when Serena was abusive and horrible to June). It allowed him to play the Good Guy to her Bad Guy and manipulate June into doing what he wanted, and getting what he wanted from her. (Which was for him to play his little man power games, his weird pregnancy fetish, his desire to roleplay with her/rape her, just… ew. I can go on but I won’t cos he’s scum.)

So, June shows back up in the house and just completely ghosts him. She gives zero fucks about him in any way whatsoever. Her world at that point is 100% Serena. Which, for someone like Fred, is devastating. He has some grand delusion that June actually likes him (because he’s stupid and fell for June’s manipulation) and even after being called out by Serena on it in 2x11, still seems to think, “I’m the nice guy. She should want to be with me! Why wouldn’t she? I’m such a Nice Guy.” In 2x13, June comes down and rails on him for mutilating Serena and his response is, “Hey, like, wanna stay here and make more babies with me? I’ll let you stay with Nichole if you let me rape you some more.” (Completely ignoring the fact that Serena likely will never do another Ceremony. He’s so out to lunch. He thought cutting off her finger would actually make her more obedient? Does he even know his wife AT ALL?! (Okay, maybe he did. Maybe some other past Serena would have (I sincerely doubt any Serena at any point would have but hey). But this Serena? With June in her ear as well? No, dude. You’re so wrong.)

LIKE… He’s screaming in June’s face and she just sees right through him. There is literally nothing in her world at that point other than Serena and you can see and hear how much it drives Fred mad. He goes on his rant and the first thing June says is, “She’s safe, Serena.” (First name! Which is far more intimate and effective than “Mrs. Waterford”. She only tends to use that formality when she really wants something and needs to suck up; she uses Serena when she’s appealing to Serena as a person.) It seems to confuse Fred for a second. Why isn’t she speaking to me? June says Serena’s name multiple times, just to drive it home.

Probably at first he was glad when Serena went raging at June cos that’s how he likes it. But holy shit, firstly he will never have that bond over Nichole. He never cared about that baby as anything more than a possession, a trophy. Serena, for all her flaws, loved that baby as a daughter. She wouldn’t have given her away otherwise. And I don’t wanna go into how important June and Serena’s conversation there was cos we all know. (Also that was Moss’ best acting in the whole first 3 episodes.)

That look Fred has when they embrace, especially in that way. First, he’s angry. He has done everything in his delusional, weak power to separate them, to estrange them from each other. He literally belt-whipped the shit out of Serena in front of June to divide them (he does know his wife to a point. He knew it would humiliate her enough to drive a wedge between them again. That wasn’t about punishing her for reading/writing. He saw that rose she gave June and knew he had to divide them immediately.) Those two women together are the most dangerous thing to him and he’s not stupid that way, he knows it.

So, he’s furious here that not even June giving away “Serena’s daughter” managed to tear them apart. You’d think it would, right? But no, it brings them even closer! Which is the impotence. He’s useless. He has nothing on the connection they have to each other, and the bond that has formed despite all his best efforts. I think part of him expected Serena to back him up, to channel his same rage at June. But that dissipated so damn quickly. Serena is powerless against June, especially when June fights back (I gotta say I really appreciated not only June yelling at Serena about what it feels like to have a baby take, not only the fact she pointed and repeatedly said “you did this!”, but the fact that physically she fought too. She shook Serena, pushed at her. It may seem like a simple thing but June actively fighting Serena in every way, especially in front of Fred, is a big sign that she sees herself as equal to Serena finally.

I think there’s a point to be made here, as much as I really don’t want to cos I fucking hate the episode as a whole, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the callback in some way to 2x10. If we all want to begrudgingly remember the 2x10 rape (I call it that instead of just “June’s rape” because June’s rape happens a multitude of times with different men in different situations (not just the Ceremony, and many of them I consider equally violent tbh.)) I think we all remember--if we haven’t blocked it out--that June calls for Serena. Only Serena. She begs Serena to stop, not Fred. It’s Serena she knows is responsible for it even if she’s not the one actually raping her, it’s Serena she knows that could help stop it, she cries out for Serena’s mercy. Not once does she consider Fred.

I don’t think Fred really noticed then. He was having too much fun. I don’t want to get into a whole thing (again) about that 2x10, but this one here where Fred is literally dead air to June is similar. And again when June screams at Serena that “YOU did this, YOU did that!” June knows. She knows who matters and it ain’t Fred in either moment.

Fred’s an appendage of Serena’s, not the other way around. Fred can call himself the boss, the master, whatever. It’s all a joke. Sure, he does have the power in this society. That’s why June knows Serena has to get back with Fred because he’s her power arm. As shitty as that is, they need to use him.

And in that moment when June is speaking only to Serena, only looking at Serena, screaming at Serena, touching Serena, comforting Serena*, crying with Serena, Fred is initially furious. Why wouldn’t June focus on him. He’s the master! He’s the boss! He’s the COMMANDER!!!

June doesn’t give a shit. He’s nothing.

He seemed to have some realisation that he’s impotent in the face of the women together. He has no power when they’ve bonded over a baby. They’re so beyond his reach now and he recognises that no matter what he does, he’s useless. He will never be able to divide them now. (The only thing that can is Serena making shittyass decisions again, which we all know she will. Ugh. Yawn.) He’s done everything in his power to estrange them and it doesn’t matter at all. Every single time, they come back together. Despite all the horrible, cruel, brutal, abusive, violent, rapist things Serena has done to June, despite all the tricks and violence he’s employed to separate them, it doesn’t matter.

Fred Waterford is impotent, inept, powerless. Quite frankly, he’s sterile. And he sees it right there in 3x01. He should have known in 2x13 when June was there at Serena’s side immediately following the finger-chopping, when June confronted him on Serena’s behalf. But he was still playing his God-complex game.

If taking Serena’s baby away and yet she still ends up in June’s arms, he’s fucked.

“Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” (Or, in the KJV, the translation is “charity”, instead of love.) [1 Corinthians 13:7-8]

I’m not even talking romantically, please note. (I may be a June/Serena shipper but I’m not totally crazy.) This is love of a child that bonds them, it’s a shared suffering. Or even ‘charity’. Whatever connection June and Serena have far exceeds what Fred has with Serena, and certainly more than he ever had with June. And he is sterile in the face of it... unless he can figure out a more insidious way of getting around/through it.

Then finally, owing to this movement from fury into the realisation of impotence, he ends at self-pity. Cos, after all, Fred is a fucking pathetic, pitiful little prick. Poor Freddy baby. Poor, poor Freddy. He just jumps right into that pit of pity for himself. I don’t think I really need to explain self-pity or why it’s so obvious here.

And we can see from every other scene he has that he’s just bathing in it. Fred, the hapless victim of women. Fred the sad man who just wants his trophy wife back. Fred playing the “I’m so self aware, I know I’ve been bad but I’m so sorry I was a bad husband.” card. Which literally nobody buys for a second. Bad husband is the craziest euphemism for man who oppresses, ignores, devalues, repeatedly cheats on, beats, (rapes**), and mutilates his wife, as well as all the other horrid shit he’s done to society and June, etc.

He just wants to be the centre of these women’s worlds. Even things like when he says later, “I drove you to desperation”. No, asshole. You’re only one part of the problem.

So, yeah. That’s a super long rant on what I think was going on with Fred in those 3 seconds lol.

[* I see people going “WTF?! Why is June comforting this bitch?” It’s sad that even now people don’t know who June is. June may want Serena to know how it feels, but she also knows how it feels. She’s experienced it--twice. Despite everything, June doesn’t want any mother to feel that way, but all the same, she’s glad Serena does. There’s a very human conflict in it that I love. It hurts June to see other mothers suffer as she has no matter who they are because it’s just the whole concept of suffering for that reason, NO ONE should have to feel that.]

[** Firstly, in case you’re unaware, that is a scene they cut from 2x11. Originally Fred raped Serena in Toronto, but Fiennes threw a tantrum so they cut it. Secondly, doesn’t it make everything make more sense. Including lending even more weight to Serena’s comment to her mother “I need you to know what it was like between us--” “No.” “The things that we did.” Obviously the latter is about the horrible crap they did--which it’s unclear which “things” she’s talking about, whether it was the DC attack, the law-writing, or the raping of June. Or something else. But the first part.. it’s heavy. Keeping in the marital rape (likely not even a crime in Gilead to rape your wife since, hey, she’s your property. But then it’s forbidden to even touch your wife sexually or even share a bed with her so... who knows.) would lend even more reason to Serena’s fairly sudden turn against him. It’s not just about her finger. It’s about the assault, the rape, and quite frankly, I think she has guilt too, specifically about the “things we did”. I dunno how much guilt or whether it’ll actually stick this time (I doubt it. Ugh.) but it’s there. It came out in 2x11, and as much as people seem to think 2x10 fell into some abyss of memory somewhere, I don’t think it did. And if it did, that was way back in 2x12 tbh when June came to Serena in the nursery after Eden’s murder. By 2x13, June was right back on that bed holding Serena’s hand. Okay, I don’t wanna go into a whole thing about the bed cos that’s a completely other essay lol. But this was just to mention that I consider the fact they cut the marital rape a shame. In some ways, I understand why. And in others, it makes this sort of shift make way more sense.]

ANYWAY

It was absolutely GLORIOUS to see June totally blank him. And Serena too. Neither woman even noticed him in the room with them. If that doesn’t make him feel like an insignificant little pissant, I don’t know what would.

And then, at the end of their tearful, emotional co-breakdown, he says to Nick to take June to her room. Which I also thought was interesting and I’m prolly reading too much into it cos the writers just wanted an excuse for Nick to follow June and yell at her. BUT, I think it was Fred’s final attempt to sever the ties. He knows Nick and June have a thing. So, he puts them to together and hopefully that breaks the connection his wife has to the Handmaid. You know? I don’t quite know how to explain this. But I think it was a direct calculation and purposeful move to insinuate Nick between them again. If he knows he can’t divide them, maybe Nick can. (Of course, he can’t but it’s worth a shot.) Divide and conquer. Which is essentially the entire basis of Gilead’s power structure. Divide up women, pit them against each other, and then conquer them.

Fred could have easily just said, “Go to your room.” to June. She didn’t need an escort. And it’s also pretty bold to say to the dude who just assisted in her escape to make sure she goes to her room. That’s why I think it was a calculation for a purpose. (Also, just necessary for the writing lol.)

And again, funny only to me perhaps, Nick was all indignant with June, acting like a jealous lover in the aftermath of the June/Serena bonding--which he wasn’t even there for but still. Of course, it’s legit cos like WTF June why are you back, you dumb bitch. And Nick has (for once) serious actual points.

So, yeah.

That scene was the best one in all the episodes so far. So fantastically acted, shot, delivered, everything.

#Anonymous

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aion-rsa · 6 years

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Daredevil: 14 Crazy Marvel Universe What If Stories

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In the multiverse, Daredevil has been an undead mass murderer, a samurai warrior, a blind prize fighter, an Agent of SHIELD, and more.

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Feature Gavin Jasper

Daredevil

Oct 22, 2018

Marvel

Daredevil is setting the world on fire. The Netflix series, long the center of the Marvel Netflix universe is enjoying its most acclaimed season ever with the recent release of season three. It was only fitting that he was chosen as leader of The Defenders, since Daredevil is sort of like the king of Marvel’s street level characters.

Sure, Spider-Man is more popular, but Matt Murdock is known for his rough life and being fate's punching bag even more than Peter Parker. Unfortunately for him, it’s not just the universe that rarely cuts him any slack, but the multiverse as well. Daredevil has starred in a handful of stories in Marvel’s What If? series and they aren’t always sunshine and lollypops. They’re still some interesting storylines with some cool ideas, though.

WHAT IF THE WORLD KNEW DARDEVIL WAS BLIND?

WHAT IF? V.1 #8, 1978

Don Glut, Alan Kupperberg, and Jim Mooney

The Original Story: Back in his yellow costume days, Daredevil took on Spider-Man villain Electro. Electro caught Daredevil off-guard at one point with a bolt to the back, but Daredevil eventually recovered and defeated him.

But What If... Spider-Man entered the fray? Having problems of his own, Spider-Man took a break from his personal adventures once he noticed Electro sneaking around a nearby building. Spider-Man breaking through a window alerted Electro and prevented his sneak attack on Daredevil. Instead of zapping Daredevil in the back, he went at him head-on and missed. Electro was confused as even if it didn’t hit him, it still should have at least blinded Daredevil, yet he didn’t even react. After getting his ass handed to him by the team of Daredevil and Spider-Man, Electro smiled. He may have lost, but he knew Daredevil’s secret and that would certainly have an effect on history.

One of the things that’s great about this issue is an early moment where Daredevil and Spider-Man discuss Daredevil’s lack of sight. Despite being from the 70s, the issue is still self-aware enough for Spider-Man to outright make fun of the old yellow costume as being an eye-sore that only a blind man would wear.

Most of the issue feels like a regular Daredevil vs. Owl story with the change that the Owl knows how to use Daredevil’s weakness against him by playing a really loud alarm of owls hooting along with filling the room with contrasting smells. In this reality, Karen Page figures out the secret identity thing really early on (Daredevil happens to sound a lot like the other blind guy she knows and accidentally called her by name) and is able to give him someone to confide in and help him overcome the Owl’s obstacles.

WHAT IF DAREDEVIL BECAME AN AGENT OF SHIELD?

WHAT IF? V.1 #28, 1981

Mike W. Barr and Frank Miller

The Original Story: A car crash took away Matt Murdock’s sight when toxic chemicals splashed into his eyes. It took years of training and heartbreak for him to step up and become something more than human, allowing him to fight against evil as Daredevil.

But What If... somebody knew what this meant for Matt’s future? The chemical truck belonged to Tony Stark, who decided to keep an eye on the situation after telling the driver that driving through the city would be way too dangerous. His instincts were correct when he found a boy doused in the eyes with the chemicals. He took the boy to Nick Fury on the SHIELD Helicarrier, figuring he’d know what to do.

Much like the previous entry, this one ends up being kind of upbeat, mainly because Daredevil wasn’t as much of a tragic character in mainstream Marvel just yet. Instead of Stick figuring Matt could make the best ninja, we have Fury figuring that he could make for the best secret agent. Hydra gets wind of this and immediately kidnaps Jack Murdock, leading to a pretty sweet action sequence where Matt goes to get him back.

The weird thing about this comic is that it doesn’t use the title as a springboard into a story, but uses it as an endpoint. Matt Murdock joining SHIELD is the very last panel and the story is merely about his origin.

WHAT IF ELEKTRA HAD LIVED?

What If? v.1 #35, 1982

Frank Miller

The Original Story: After escaping prison, Bullseye was tasked with eliminating Elektra. In a rather nasty fight, he took her apart and impaled her with her own sai. The love of Daredevil’s life was snuffed out.

But What If... Bullseye was done in by someone else’s true aim? As Bullseye tried to escape, he was shot right in the head by a prison guard. That meant that Kingpin would have to rely on lesser assassins to punish Elektra for her failure to kill Foggy Nelson.

This one always confuses me because it tends to be on people’s lists of favorite What If? issues and I really don’t understand why. I’ve never gotten a straight answer other than, “It’s Miller.” I mean, is it just the novelty that Frank Miller wrote and drew it? Yes, the Elektra fight scene is beautiful, albeit short, but there’s honestly nothing to this story. It’s just there and it just ends.

further reading - Daredevil Season 3: Who is Bullseye?

Then there’s the framing sequence where Uatu the Watcher proceeds to be the biggest asshole in the Marvel Universe, which Ed Brubaker liked enough to do an homage in What If? Civil War many years later.

WHAT IF? V.1 #38 (1983)

David Michelenie, Alan Kupperberg

The Original Story: We tend to read our comics about Matt Murdock as being a fairly young adult. Characters don’t really age all that much in the mainstream, so we aren’t going to be seeing him depicted as a middle-aged man in the near future.

But What If... we got to look at the future? This issue of What If? is made up of three stories based on jumping decades into the future. One is based on an older Captain America and his wife Sharon. One is a rather touching story about Vision coming to terms with Scarlet Witch dying of old age while his android body remains the same. Then there’s this one, taking place 30 years in the future, where Russian President Natasha Romanoff comes to America to meet with Vice President Foggy Nelson. Matt works for Foggy and is just a big curmudgeon about everything because his unnamed wife has recently died.

It’s a very, very strange comic. Terrorists attack the UN and our two heroes turn out to both have their costumes on underneath their outfits. It makes some sense for Natasha, despite being a bit too old to be wearing skintight spandex, but Matt hasn’t worn his tights in decades, so his decision to have them on just in case is ridiculous. Then his life lesson about not letting tragedy destroy him is so ham-fisted that it’s rather hilarious.

WHAT IF DAREDEVIL HAD KILLED THE KINGPIN?

WHAT IF? V.2 #2, 1989

Danny Fingeroth and Greg Capullo

The Original Story: During “Born Again,” Matt Murdock was brought to his breaking point and chose to visit Wilson Fisk, the man responsible for his troubles. He wanted to kill him. Physically, he wasn’t up to the task and got absolutely destroyed. Only in his defeat was he able to build himself back up and come out stronger than ever.

But What If... on the way to meet Fisk, Matt bumped into one of the bodyguards and smuggled away his gun? Matt then confronted Fisk and shot him. He stayed around long enough to make sure his heart wasn’t beating, then walked out with nobody knowing about it for another fifteen minutes.

Matt’s greatest antagonist in this story isn’t the underworld or the superheroes, but himself. As a justice-loving Catholic, he’s distraught over what he’s done. He becomes delusional, hallucinating homeless people as judges and begging for them to find him guilty. He pleads with the Punisher to shoot him dead as punishment, since he’s no better than all the other criminals he preys on. Meanwhile, Richard Fisk admits that he doesn’t know how to feel about his father’s passing and when Matt goes to him to receive judgment, Richard is unsure of how to react.

This one’s one of the better What If? issues out there. Not only does it have some strong character moments, but it has an ending so cool that I almost wish it was canon.

WHAT IF THE PUNISHER HAD KILLED DAREDEVIL?

WHAT IF? V.2 #26, 1991

Kurt Busiek and Luke McDonnell

The Original Story: As the Punisher beat up a junkie on a rooftop, Daredevil got in his way to stop him. The Punisher fired a tranquilizer dart and knocked him out, allowing him an easy escape, all while Daredevil got a nap out of it.

But What If... Daredevil was just a little too close to the edge? To Frank Castle’s horror, Daredevil fell to his death. Well. That would change a lot, wouldn’t it?

As you can guess, this one is less of a Daredevil story and more of a Punisher one. Foggy appears early on and Ben Urich gets a pretty major role, but it mostly comes down to Punisher vs. Kingpin. It’s still a really good issue and the subplot about Spider-Man is kind of heartbreaking. As Daredevil’s superhero BFF, Spider-Man blames himself for what happened, since he always let Punisher kind of do his own thing as long as he wasn’t nearby. Now he dedicates himself to bringing him in and it all goes very, very wrong.

further reading - The Punisher Season 2: Everything You Need to Know

The same creative team would come back to do another Punisher/Daredevil story soon after.

WHAT IF VENOM HAD POSSESSED THE PUNISHER?

WHAT IF? V.2 #44, 1992

Kurt Busiek and Luke McDonnell

The Original Story: Spider-Man had gotten rid of his black alien costume on the rooftop of a church. Moments later, a disgraced reporter Eddie Brock entered the church to pray for forgiveness for his impending suicide and was greeted by the symbiotic creature. He then became Venom and was obsessed with getting revenge on Spider-Man.

But What If... the Punisher entered the church a couple minutes before Brock? He noticed Spider-Man swinging away and started thinking about him for a second, which was like catnip to the symbiote. It attached itself to him and at first he figured it was some kind of SHIELD tech, not even entertaining the thought that it could be something more sinister.

further reading: The Craziest Venom Moments in Marvel History

This is one of the few What If? issues where Daredevil has some kind of supporting role. Usually, unless he’s the star, he just gets a couple panels where he dies. Here, he sees Castle swinging by and can tell that something’s up. Then he even has to team up with Typhoid Mary to protect the Kingpin from this new, deadlier Punisher, who appears to be more violent than ever and on some kind of permanent adrenaline high. In the end, Daredevil teams up with Spider-Man and Moon Knight to put an end to the Punisher’s reign of terror.

This is a definite must-read issue, mainly for how badass Frank is with the costume and when he’s against the costume.

WHAT IF DAREDEVIL HAD SAVED NUKE?

WHAT IF V.2 #48, 1993

Ron Marz and Kevin Kobasic

The Original Story: The psychotic super soldier Nuke was sent to raze Hell’s Kitchen to the ground to draw out Daredevil. During the adventure, he took a bullet to the chest. Daredevil tried to get him to a hospital and save him, but he was too late. Daredevil ended up dumping the dead body onto Ben Urich’s desk.

But What If... he was able to get Nuke to the hospital in time? The doctors were able to stabilize him enough that when Kingpin’s armed goons made a go at them, Daredevil was able to escape with Nuke still breathing. He then kept him in a hiding spot, hoping his enhanced biology would heal itself and if things turned out right enough, he’d be able to use him to help destroy the Kingpin through testimony.

further reading: Complete Marvel Comics Easter Eggs in Daredevil Season 3

This is a fast-paced issue that doesn’t waste much time, but it’s a lot of fun. To make sure Nuke is taken out of the equation as fast as possible, Kingpin brings Bullseye back into the fold. Even though a good chunk of the comic is dedicated to Daredevil having to rescue Karen from Bullseye and Kingpin, the issue is ultimately about Nuke – despite minimal dialogue – coming into his own and redeeming himself. The ending isn’t too radically different from what happened in main continuity, but Nuke still comes out a winner in this reality. He doesn’t fight for what he’s told is right but for what he knows is right.

WHAT IF THE KINGPIN OWNED DAREDEVIL?

WHAT IF V.2 #73, 1995

DG Chichester and Tom Grindberg

The Original Story: Matt Murdock’s father was taken from him. The blind boy continued his training with the hardened martial arts master Stick, hoping to one day achieve justice. He rose up as both a vigilante and a talented lawyer, becoming the guardian of Hell’s Kitchen.

But What If... Wilson Fisk investigated the murder? It didn’t sit well with him that the Fixer overstepped his boundaries and had Jack Murdock killed, even if it should have been below his notice. Fisk discovered that young Matt had been in regular contact with Stick and Fisk had enough knowledge of that man to know that there must have been something special about this boy. Fisk told Matt that he could try and get revenge himself and likely perish or let Fisk take care of it and have it all wrapped up overnight. Matt understandably chose the easy way.

Matt grows up as Wilson Fisk’s second son, continuing his work to become a top-notch lawyer, though he has an excess of tutors who will teach him everything from genuine law to knowing how to use his own blindness for sympathy. The question arises of whether this situation will lead to Matt becoming corrupt or if he might actually get through to his adopted father.

further reading: Daredevil Season 3 Ending Explained

If you watched through the Daredevil series and it made you want to read a Daredevil comic, this is a fantastic one-shot that builds on what you’ve learned about the main characters. Not only do we get to see a fascinating look at a world where Fisk and Matt are close, but it goes out of its way to show us what becomes of the would-be supporting people in Matt’s life. What would have become of Foggy, Karen, Elektra, and so on? Would they be better off or worse off?

WHAT IF DAREDEVIL WAS THE DISCIPLE OF DOCTOR STRANGE?

WHAT IF V.2 #83, 1996

Ian Edgington and Mike Baron

The Original Story: Having lost use of his hands in a car accident, egotistical surgeon Stephen Strange searched for a cure, which led to him finding out about the Ancient One. He found answers, but not what he was initially expecting. Rather than return to his life as a doctor, he found enlightenment as Sorcerer Supreme.

But What If... Stick was there to squash the rumors of the Ancient One? As Doctor Strange searched for information on the Ancient One, Stick convinced him that the real solution was searching for the Chaste. Doctor Strange’s journey led to him not becoming a top-of-the-line wizard, but a highly-skilled ninja master. Stick then sent him to be the one to train a young Matt Murdock, but Strange wasn’t able to quell the boy’s rage.

further reading: The Doctor Strange and Pink Floyd Connection

This one’s concept is higher than Tommy Chong, but it’s so weird that it kind of works. Dr. Strange had lost Matt to the Hand and moved on to mentoring Elektra. This gives us a completely badass Hand Daredevil outfit that they would introduce into regular continuity during the whole Shadowland storyline. It also gives us a Romeo and Juliet story, only with lots of well-drawn ninja action. Really, is there any better selling point than that?

WHAT IF... STARRING DAREDEVIL

WHAT IF V.2 #102, 1997

Bill Rosemann and Hector Collazo

The Original Story: Jack Murdock knew that if he didn’t take a dive against Crusher Creel, his life was over. In the end, he chose pride and the belief that he needed to be a role model for his son, so he knocked out Creel. Jack was killed by the mob for his audacity and Matt would go on to become Daredevil.

But What If... the mobsters warned Jack that they would go after Matt? Jack realized he had no choice. There would be no defiance and mortal sacrifice. The only sacrifice would be his dignity as he faked defeat for the sake of the criminal underworld.

There isn’t much to Jack Murdock’s story. His luster is gone and he never sniffs the top of the ladder ever again. Instead, he takes in-ring beatings until he’s just left in a coma.

Matt, on the other hand, lives his life as he normally would, only to be pulled away by his father’s massive hospital bills. He’s still too young to be a lawyer, so he earns money by following in Jack’s footsteps and becoming a boxer. He’s able to fake having sight and Wilson Fisk ends up buying him. Time starts over again as Matt Murdock is given a title shot and is instructed to stay down. Of course, Matt has too much pride to do something like that...

WHAT IF KAREN PAGE HAD LIVED? (2005)

Brian Michael Bendis and Michael Lark

The Original Story: When facing Bullseye, Daredevil was saved by his longtime friend and occasional lover Karen Page. As Bullseye left, he threw Daredevil’s billy club right at the hero. Karen dove in front of it and sacrificed herself, taking the club to the chest and dying in Matt’s arms. It was later discovered that this was all a plot by a dying Mysterio, who had bought information on Daredevil’s identity from the Kingpin.

But What If... the club didn’t hit Karen in the heart and only put her in critical condition? Nearly losing Karen instead of actually losing her would have driven Matt into a rage and Daredevil would have made a more lethal visit to Wilson Fisk’s home. In a fit of anger, Matt threw his club right into Fisk’s throat, killing him. Too bad Fisk had a failsafe that if anything were to happen to him, proof of Daredevil’s identity would flood the media.

further reading - Daredevil Season 3 Villain Revealed: Wilson Bethel on Becoming Bullseye

This issue is not very good. I don’t fully blame Bendis for it, since it was originally supposed to be written by Kevin Smith, the guy who killed off Karen originally. It was instead given to Bendis, who is the worst fit for a What If? comic. The guy simply can’t write a normal-sized one-shot where a healthy amount of exposition is part of the narrative. Much like that year’s What If Jessica Jones Joined the Avengers?, Bendis literally spent the first half of the comic retelling the original story. The scene of Daredevil in Karen’s hospital room that starts this reality tangent is the 11th page out of 23 and that’s including double-page spreads.

Plus the story is just mean. It’s not so much a story as it’s a series of burials and feel-bad moments. It isn’t all that much different than how Bendis’ Daredevil run would finally end, only with more finality due to being non-canon and not having to deal with the status quo. Don’t read it unless you’re a Bendis completist or you just want to be thoroughly depressed.

WHAT IF? FEATURING DAREDEVIL (2006)

Rick Veitch and Tommy Lee Edwards

The Original Story: Daredevil is Matt Murdock, a swashbuckling vigilante and also lawyer who fights crime on two levels, mostly against a big, fat criminal mastermind. He also has an assassins ex-girlfriend and a nemesis who has really good aim. He does all of this in the present day in New York City.

But What If... it took place in Feudal Japan? This came out during a really weird year of What If? releases where instead of just being one thing that changed the course of history, the issues took place in one alternate Earth where everything was different. On Earth-616, a hacker calling himself the Watcher was able to hack into another reality and, through reading its internet, realize the many differences between worlds. This included stuff like Wolverine being the Punisher of the 1930s, Thor being the Herald of Galactus, the Fantastic Four being Soviets, and Daredevil being a samurai.

It maps out the usual Daredevil origin tropes with a samurai bend. Japan is run by the Emperor, but he is in the pocket of the large-and-in-charge Shogun (who practices sumo because he’s fat and it’s Japan). A ronin called the Old Devil runs afoul of one of the Shogun’s men named the Owl and his son Masahiro is mystically blinded. To save his son’s sight, Old Devil is tasked with destroying a boat of visiting Americans so that he can steal their rifles for the Shogun. He ends up destroying the rifles, gets killed for his betrayal, and his buddy Stick secretly raises and trains Masahiro into being a warrior known as the Devil Who Dares. Elektra’s tossed in there as the daughter of slain Greek ambassadors turned into a vengeful concubine and you have a pretty basic story.

What’s interesting in it is that on that destroyed American boat is Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson. Murdock survives the attack and becomes a rifle-using marksman calling himself Bullseye. Yes, this story features both a guy who is Daredevil and a guy who is Matt Murdock. It ends up coming together very nicely and the art is a treat as well.

WHAT IF? DAREDEVIL VS. ELEKTRA (2010)

Karl Bollers and Rafael Kayanan

The Original Story: Matt Murdock and Elektra Natchios were college lovers. As terrorists attempted to kidnap Elektra’s father, Matt donned a mask and helped take them down. The authorities got a little overzealous and opened fire at the window when Elektra’s father had his back to it. He was gunned down and died. It broke Elektra and she went on to become a cold, high-ranking assassin. Eventually, she was killed and brought back to life by the Hand.

But What If... it was Matt who got shot up? His attempts to stop the terrorists led to him struggling with one of them in front of the window, causing him to get filled with a couple sniper rounds. A week later, Nick Fury found Matt’s grave to be empty. A blind man fighting off several armed men seemed impossible and the Hand was interested in investigating that.

Years later, Elektra is not an assassin, but an agent of SHIELD. The “Born Again” Matt Murdock has overtaken the Hand and now calls himself the Advocate, a clever name it took me a while to get. SHIELD is after him after the slaughter of the Kingpin and his employees. Let me tell you, if any part of this issue is fun to read, it’s Fisk sending Bullseye after the Advocate and watching him get taken apart like he was nothing. Especially with the sweet Kayanan art.

further reading: Elektra Assassin and the Making of an Anti-Heroine

Elektra’s world is torn down piece by piece and ultimately she’s trained by Stick and put in charge of creating a reborn Caste. Together, she and her team go after the Hand while she holds out hope that she can get through to Matt Murdock or at least put an end to his reign of terror.

In the past few years, they’ve relaxed on doing What If? comics a bit and considering New Avengers and Secret Wars has been vaporizing all the different alternate universes, who knows if we’ll see another take on Daredevil like this in the future. Are there any cool What If? ideas you’d like to see Daredevil star in? Sound off in the comments!

Gavin Jasper has spent years wanting a comic where Daredevil ended up on Battleworld instead of Spider-Man and donned the black costume. Read more of his work here or follow him on Twitter!

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2018 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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