#(which. surprisingly maybe to some. is exactly what some white supremacists want! they want white only ethnostates so) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phantasmct · 7 years ago

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| Lines |

starring: Jung Jaehyun

genre: smut, fluff (?)

word count: 4.3k

summary: As you thought your relationship with Jaehyun was heading nowhere he finally decides to draw the lines you were hoping for.

author's note: As this being my first smut scenario I felt a lot of pressure while writing it. I must admit my aim was to write a passionate love making, so I must warn you; there is no kink. But I'm still unsure about how it turned out, nevertheless I hope you will enjoy it.(I apologize if there’s any mistakes)

As soon as your friend and you passed the enter of your favorite coffee shop, you spotted him. It did not matter if he wasn’t facing you, his side profile was enough. His brown shiny hair, his glowing skin, his soft brown eyes and his pinkish lips were enough. Enough to start a typhoon in your whole body. You felt tingles and your hair rise from your upper harms as you witnessed his dimples and perfect white canines appear. He was laughing at one of his friend’s joke -were they with him since you entered? ‘cause he seemed to shine on his own. Jaehyun was laughing and he was superb.

A ton of memories unwillingly resurfaced in your mind as your friend rushed to find you a good seat, she was oblivious to your state. Memories of caresses, memories of kisses, memories of sucking and memories of thrusting. Memories of Jaehyun, and you, on you. Those memories were hard to forget because of the pride and feeling they could bring just by themselves. There was a certain pride to witness this rare side of the boy, and the feeling of those moving images were intense. Since the previous description shattered itself just with those. There was a pride of witnessing Jaehyun relentlessly thrusting in you while admiring his disheveled brown hair, his moist skin, his blissful brown eyes and his crimson lips. But you had to keep this pride for you, just like everything else that involved the young man and you.

You found yourself being sat without realizing it lost in your thoughts, your friend in front reading the menu in her hands and asking you what you intended to take at least for the second time -judging by her annoyed face. You teased her about being impatient and opted for your favorite ice-cream balls -passion fruit and vanilla- considering the hot weather when the waiter came. She picked a great place, you thought while waiting for your orders, there you were protected from the sun, the place wasn’t crowed, and plus you could perfectly saw Jaehyun without him noticing you. You were now trying to focus on your friend rambling about the great party that you missed, and all the opportunities there -referring to some boys- before reminding you that she was in a relationship and so that there were some lines she couldn’t cross or whatsoever. You found yourself wondering if him and you had some of those lines. Definitely no, nothing restrained both of you whether you wanted it or not. The waiter put a term on your thoughts coming back with a plate in his hands. You didn’t pay attention to his enamored eyes, timid smiles and flirtatious tone exclusively directed to you. You couldn’t since your eyes were again directed to Jaehyun his figure. He seemed to be doing fine. Your friend was about to point out the server’s useless attempt when she followed your gaze for the first time. She turned astonished toward you.

“He still hasn’t contacted you?” she inquired nearly reproaching.

Your friend knew about him. Actually she knew what she witnessed and what you were willing to tell her, which was not so much. She was there with you the time Jaehyun and you exchanged number at this party she forced you to. But you never told her when he finally texted you two days after, inviting you to his house, for an obvious reason. You knew exactly why he invited you, and if you were about to risk it, your friend a supremacist of committed relationship would have never agreed to such nonsenses. And anyway it was way too late now to suddenly blurt out that you’ve been fucking almost every two days with the say boy.

“No.” you answered savoring your ice cream, and diverting your eyes back to her.

“And I guess you hasn’t too, right?”

“Yeah.”

She rolled so hard her eyes you thought you will never see her irises again.

“Maybe you should get over it…and finally pay attention to this cute waiter?”She pointed her little spoon to the previous boy a little bit too excited for your liking.

“Maybe.” you put a term to the topic.

You were perfectly handling the situation on your own you thought. But you also knew that it wasn’t the case, you were again fooling yourself like when you thought that it would be enough. That what you were sharing with him would be enough, that you wouldn’t be expecting for more, but deep inside you knew from the start that it was a lie. As it was also a lie when you thought leaving him first after every intercourse in his cold bed made you still in control. Because you did unconsciously or consciously wanted more, and it hurt you because you were in no right to do so. It hurt so bad that you decided to flee away like a coward, and you hoped he would respect and accept that because of this no-lines concept of this relationship. You couldn’t even put a proper name on what you were for each other. You two were not even friends in the first place to be called “fuck friend”. You didn’t know much about him, and it was the same for him when it came to you even thought he seemed to try to sometimes. He always asked you few questions while your were getting ready to leave, for you it was just a way to make things less awkward. He was curious about your well-being or how you were doing in university, which you constantly found weird since you crossed path at least once in university everyday. Suddenly something felt weird.

You rose your eyes from your cup and met directly Jaehyun’s intense ones.

He was as startled as you were since he nearly choked on his drink if it wasn’t from his friend’s help. But it wasn’t for the same reason though. You were surprised that he managed to spot you and him because he seemed to have gotten caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Nevertheless both of you diverted your eyes at the same time.

Your attention went to your friend's noisy phone as she picked it up from the table.

“Oh shit. I completely forgot that my cousins were supposed to come tonight.” she exclaimed guilty. You understood that the text was probably from one of her parent.

“Family time tonight I guess?” you said playfully.

“Yes. Much better: family dinner. A dinner I’m supposed to help my parents with. I’m sorry but I will have to leave you.” she grunted truly irritated with the upcoming event.

“It’s okay I’m done anyway. Let’s go I also have some work to do too, so it’s perfect.” you said more than happy to leave the place since you were not undercover anymore.

You both headed to the counter to pay for you orders while you avoided at all cost looking at Jaehyun. But you were sure about feeling his burning gaze on your back once your passed their table. From his seat he was able to view you as much as it pleased him while sipping his drink. The roles were now switched and you were fully aware of this. You massaged your arm uncomfortably leaning on the counter and hoping for someone to take care of you quickly. Your faithful waiter suddenly appeared with his Hollywood smile, you handed the said amount. You already turned your back, when you heard the boy behind the bar cleaning his throat and seemingly calling you back. At this point you completely forgot about the possibility of Jaehyun following the scene, but it was the case. Him like you stopped right on his track as you turned once again to face the good looking worker.

“Hum…Miss? Your receipt.” he nervously pushed the little piece of paper on the wooden support toward you.

You were about to answer him that it wasn’t needed considering the ridiculous amount, but the little tap on your back -a move not unnoticed by Jaehyun- from your friend made you check again. And for good reason, in red letters was actually written a phone number followed by a simple message: contact me, you wondered how you could have missed this in the first place.

“I will think about it. Thanks.” you simply answered, a polite smile curved your lips before heading outside of the place for good.

Your friend didn’t really pressed you over this like you hoped. She knew you and how you generally wanted some space to think on your own when you were this moody. This is why she gladly bring meaningless subject to ease the atmosphere while both of you were walking to your home.

After unlocking the door of your appartement you quickly changed yourself into something more comfortable and plopped yourself on the sofa in front of your TV a bowl of cereal in hand. You tried to find the same routine since you distanced your meetings with him. You tried to keep your attention and consideration on other things that mattered to you. Things such as your friends, your favorite series or even your studies. You were hoping to come back to how it was before, hoping to distract yourself. But this of course, was for now failing considering the fact that the infectious boy was still vividly lingering in your mind almost constantly

You watched the bright screen for quite a time enjoying your cereal until you got bored and decided to get your assignment done. You were surprisingly in advance concerning this work. And if you were productive enough you could done it by today and have the rest of the week free to mope on your lonely being.

The moment you got up your phone lit up on the sofa next to you signaling a new message. You mechanically took it expecting it to be one of your friend. But it wasn't the case. As soon as you read the sender your whole body stiffened not even daring to unlock the bright screen.

| Are you free? |

You smiled pitifully as you read the three words. It was always how he started your conversation, and you would generally dive in and accept to meet him at his flat. Always. You sighed loudly before resigning yourself to answer him.

| No, not today. |

“That's it.” you thought as you put your phone down again next to you. It was probably the last straw, it was the third time you curved him this week refusing to meet once more. Why would he insist again? As you sat he must have probably find someone else. And honestly as much as it was hard to accept, you could understand it. You came back to reality hearing once more your phone ring. Your eyes widened when you realized that this time it was a call coming from none other than him. You two never had a phone call, your brows furrowed, was it because he wanted to “end” it “properly”? Whether or not you decided to spare your feelings and opted to ignore the call. You got up and went to the kitchen to put your bawl in the sink and immediately directed yourself toward your study table in your bedroom, leaving your phone in the living room.

Somebody was ringing at the door. Actually it's been a few minutes already, but you didn't bother checking who it was. You weren't expecting someone, and you sincerely hoped the person would get bored and go away because you weren't in the mood to face anyone now. At the third attempt you finally got up irritated by the insistence. You were already upset by the recent event and had the urge to vent your anger on anything, whoever it was, he was surely going to get it. You stomped to the front door, your lips pressed in a line, and harshly unlocked it. You opened your mouth ready to curse the person out for disturbing you but quickly stopped yourself in time.

In front of you was standing Jaehyun himself, head lowered on his phone, completely unbothered, he seemed like he could wait for a full more hour. The boy was dressed the same way as when you saw him at the coffee place, a bright red t-shirt half tucked in plain black jeans and some 1461 Dr. Martens at his feet, in fact it looked like he directly came from there. He finally raised his head, diverting your eyes from his hair messily parted on the side. When you met his orbs you tried to gain back your composure even if you were no where as presentable as he was right now. He, just simply put his phone in the back pocket of his jeans.

“What are you doing here Jaehyun? I thought-”

You were not able to end your sentence as he gently pushed you aside by inviting himself in the small hall. Thinking about to calling him out for his rude gesture you realized your bodies were still in contact in the little place, so you decided to quickly move and close the door.

“Glad to see that you're alright.” your guest made himself heard for the first time as he started going in the living room after getting rid of his shoes.

His calmness -per usual- troubled you, because you never really knew what he was exactly thinking or even meaning. You followed him suit scowling.

“What do you mean?” You asked directly not in the mood to deal with his enigmatic words.

“I thought something happened to you.” he turned himself facing you once again a bit flustered by his own words “It's just...that I had to come check physically since you're avoiding me.” You frowned once again.

“You saw me at the coffee shop.”

“I know.” He stared directly in your eyes not leaving them.

“I also answered your previous texts.” You maintained the emotionless tone in your voice.

“I know.” the brown haired boy took a step reducing the gap between you two.

“And I also told you that we couldn't meet today.”

“I know.” Another step was took, and he didn't leave your reprimanding gaze.

If you dared to lower your guard upon his sweet chestnut eyes you knew you would be trapped them.

“Then...What are you doing here Jaehyun?” The words left your mouth for the second time.

And those words seemed to make falter his eyes breaking momentarily the eye contact.

“I don't know.”

There was nothing you could say to this. You stared at the lost boy for a moment. And from his spot himself did the same, he depicted your unprepared figure, you hair held in a lazy bun and your body covered in the thin matter of your blue nightshirt. You finally breathed the air you were holding in and decided to leave him there, heading back in your bedroom still unsure of what to do. From the corner of your eyes you could see Jaehyun's surprised expression but decided to not comment.

“Make yourself home then.”

And that's what he did since he quickly rejoined you in the quiet and private room. He didn't utter a word as he saw you typing on the keyboard concentrated. But still you were able to hear him moving around in the room freely looking at your personal objects. He was discovering more of your world by looking at the pictures pinned on the wall or even some of the plushies scattered on the drawers. You were oblivious of his amused smiles and how he actually enjoyed snooping around. But you were not about the fact of how surprisingly it was natural and pleasing to have him in the room. Jaehyun managed to make the atmosphere lively with such a peacefulness that it was nearly terrifying to you sometimes. And know it seemed like he always been there with you, like he was part of this world and never had to appropriate it just a few minutes ago.

You were struck by the sudden calm of your environment when you closed your laptop after finishing with your work. You turned and wandered your eyes but quickly stopped when you spotted his figure laying on your bed. It seemed like he just doze off probably tired of waiting for you. You raised yourself silently, the urge to grab on this opportunity and witness a new side of him was to hard for you to resit. Walking to the bed you decided to sat at the edge of it to examine his sleeping form. He was on his back, his feet hung in the air at the end of the furniture and his arms were crossed around one of your pillow. You admired the serene expression caused by his relaxed features, the long and thin eyelashes around his eyes and his slight sulking mouth. A smile crept at the corner of your mouth, happy to just have him here laying next to you, at your reach. You raised your hand about to touch unconsciously his auburn locks when Jaehyun's eyes suddenly opened startling you.

Not an ounce of tiredness could be found on his now awake face. And you suddenly worried about the possibility of him being aware of your acts all along. He looked at you and your hand pulled back down rapidly.

“I'm taking a quick pause, that's all.” you said avoiding his gaze and feeling the need to justify yourself.

He smiled softly at your embarrassed behavior, you then saw him putting the pillow beside him. Before you had the chance to ask him about his intentions your body was quickly jerked towards his torso replacing the previous object. A plaint left your mouth at the unexpected contact, his limbs locked around your wiggling figure.

“Perfect then, I can be quick.” he quietly stated enlightening your mind.

You were again to slow to react as you found yourself under his frame, your hands still on his bust trying to keep a minimal distance. Jaehyun was supporting himself on his forearms imprisoning you, shortly he pressed his mouth onto yours mouth into a multitude of little kisses shutting you this way. While doing so one of his hands grabbed your thigh to part more your legs so he could place himself and have a full access to your whole being. Once it was done he started to dive smoothly to your neck leaving moist marks, he knew it was one of your weakness and of course you quickly reacted by loosing up your stiff form and raising your chin. To Jaehyun your body was his playground, he easily knew every one of your we spots. He gained more confidence and started murmuring between his ministrations.

“I missed you a lot.” his breath grazed your collarbones as he looked at you under his fringe.

This was another problem with Jaehyun he was good with words. He never missed the chance to praise you with some -a lot in fact- loving words during your intercourse nourishing your addiction to him. Probably expecting an answer from you his hands left again the side of your head to do some soft caresses from your foot to your now raised thigh. Soon he reached the fabric of your long t-shirt and repeated the whole process.

“You did not miss me?” he purred again.

He was well aware that you were biting back your moans by blocking your respiration and keeping your mouth in a thin line.

“Did you, sweetheart?” he sounded this time more impatient and the kisses were more forceful.

“I did-”

Your words were stopped by inevitable whimpers when he dipped his tongue in your collarbones and started to suck hungrily on their skin. He hooked one of your leg around his waist before placing his knee between your thighs and processed to stroke your covered core. You inhaled sharply as you grabbed on his broad shoulders and raised your hips to meet the rough fabric of his jeans to provide the pleasure you were now seeking. Your lover took the opportunity to reach under your clothes and raised it to your hips, revealing fully your wetting panties to his eyes.

“I know.” he smirked still satisfied with the undone answer.

He was now grazing his teeth and licking noisily at your nipples leaving wet spot on the top of your attire. You gasped loudly at the feeling cursing at yourself for reacting so well even thought you knew he liked it.

“Jaehyun please...” you pleaded your hands starting to roam over his body.

You finally reached your goal feeling his black leather belt and untucked his t-shirt in a hurry. He was going way to slow for you liking. You started to lift it over his head when he bucked startling you. You frowned at him wondering what he was doing.

“Please what?” you felt the need to roll your eyes at his words, but you were aware that it would've been unnecessary. You though you two were over this stage since a long time.

“You know very well...”

“No I don't.” He smiled mischievously at your frustrated expression, his hands grabbing your waist. You groaned complying.

“I want more.”

To you this sentence means much more, but you were certain that he wasn't aware of it while he raised proudly his head looking at you. You always wanted more of Jaehyun. Energized by your words he pulled your underwear throwing it in the bedroom, you soon felt his fingers teasing the folds of your entrance, making you suddenly feel heady with lust.

“How come you're already ready?” he cooed feeling you're wetness and your hips desperately moving against his digit. You knew you had to speed up the act with your words again.

“Please Jaehyun I want more of you.”

He stopped, something into desire changed in his eyes as he harshly got rid of the red fabric making it join your undergarment on the floor. You raised enough to get at his belt and unbuckled it, not missing the chance to tease his prominent bulge. He rasped at the feeling of your hand as he watched, his hands then met yours and pulled down his jeans and gray briefs in a swift motion, freeing his manhood. He embraced you in his arms as he pushed both of you back on the mattress tenderly. You were used to his gentleness so didn't notice the weird glint in his pupils.

Finally the contact you were so longing for came as you felt the plump head squeeze between your slit. You grabbed the upper arm he was using to hover above you and opened your mouth as he started to move his shaft between them. Your eyes met, and his seemed to flame as he grabbed his erection and decided to sink in deeply.

“Oh fuck, Jaehyun-” you gasped not being warned soon enough.

Himself inhaled loudly as he felt your heat surrounding him, still in a rush he placed one hand in yours and the other on the headboard for support as he hips started to snap. Your fingers locked hard with his as you felt overwhelmed with the new feeling, you lips started to get dry as you chanted his name in a mantra.

Soon all you could witness was the forming sweat drops on his forehead as he steadily pound into you to set you off, you were vaguely aware of him praising your tightness. Jaehyun's digit attacked your clit and you felt your body melt as you suddenly shuddered and clasped around his girth. You heard him growl as he still pounded into your core, he leaned himself back on his elbows before he nuzzled your neck kissing it. Shortly after you came down from your high you matched his pace to help him reach his own climax, he moaned your name savoring your undulations.

“Fuck yes, you feel so good.”

You were now aware of all his sayings, and you couldn't wait for them as your hand went to pull on his hair. You felt his breaths and thrusts became erratic as he finally grunted and began spilling himself inside you. You were weary and dazed, as his breathless form hugged yours tightly when you closed your eyes.

You woke your upper body sprayed all over Jaehyun's torso, his breathing lifting your figure slightly each time as his finger draw patterns on your naked back. Your two beings were plunged in the dark as the moon was shining in the sky.

“I should've never sent this text.” You felt his chest roaring as he broke the silence.

Your body stiffened as you expected worried his explanation.

“I should've invited you to a coffee shop or a cinema, we would've held hands, I would've probably walked you back home-”

You suddenly got up at his regretful narrative. You couldn't believe what you were hearing and had now to make sure of his well-being. You reached for your night light and switched it on looking troubled at Jaehyun's face. Surprisingly it was quickly switched it off by the boy himself, but you managed to peep his rosy cheeks, and so puffed in awe.

“I'm not done yet.” he stuttered in a way too serious tone.

“Done what?” you were failing miserably at suppressing your laugh.

“What I was trying to say was that we could have had a proper date.” he sighed annoyed with your attitude “But I wasn't brave enough to ask you out correctly, scared to be rejected. And it went on this way because it was the only way I could feel close to you.” he ended his voice softening again.

He had to call your name for reassurance as you were not reacting. Truth to be told you were completely astonished as the word sink in slowly. You regained your composure.

“What if I still want it to happen?” you felt his breath hitch in his throat.

“I will make it happen.” he said sincerely cupping your cheek pulling you to his soft lips. He pulled on your lower lips ending the kiss “But first, you'll have to let me finish my scenario.”

#nct smut #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct 127 #nct u #nct #nct scenarios

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years ago

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Countless Roads - Chapter 1

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 1 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

A/N: Have an extra-long first chapter to get us properly started. All comments welcome and appreciated!

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"You stay the hell away from him!" the voice roars.

Len shakes and shudders and curls up in a ball on the floor.

Juvie is worse than he could have imagined – oh, the kids themselves are bad enough, pushy and mean and some of them are old enough for the look in their eyes to be more than standard schoolyard aggression, but it's only Len's first day; they're going to wait until the guards lose interest in him before trying anything.

The ghosts don't wait at all.

It's a bad place, a centering ground, land that stinks of sadness and anger and sucks in ghosts like a whirlpool. Human misery is the only company these ghosts have –

– at least, until Len arrives.

The unquiet dead gather their forces as he gets checked in, watch him, teeming with anticipation, in the yard, and then come for him right after dinner.

His own ghosts, bought in coin – pieces of future years – spent before he came, try their best to protect him, but he underestimated the number of unquiet dead lingering here. He underestimated the number of murderer's victims, children and adults, the number of suicides, the number of unlucky daredevils, the number of accidental deaths –

And then Mick – though Len doesn't know his name, not yet – rips them off of Len, one leech at a time, and puts himself between them and Len's shaking, spasming body.

"Hurts," Len rasps, unable to say more.

"Don't worry," the other boy says, glaring. He's big, for a teenager; a promise of height and breadth in the future. "I won't let them near."

"Gimme a hand up?" Len asks.

The boy shakes his head, and that's when Len realizes.

"You're dead too, ain't you," he says, flat as a stone.

"I've been here the longest," the boy responds, shrugging. "Since before they built the place."

Len sighs and climbs to his feet. He'd so hoped, seeing the boy’s strength, that he'd finally met another of his kind, but no; the boy's just another apparition. Barely that, even; he has a very strong presence, probably due to his age, but he’s not even a poltergeist on his own merits.

"Thanks," he tells him anyway, because apparition or not, the boy did just save his life.

"Don't mention it," the kid says.

The funny thing is, he really seems to mean it. No favors requested, no suggestions that Len repay him, nothing.

If anything, the guy seems to avoid Len whenever possible – which isn't much, because he comes rushing in whenever the unquiet ghosts float too close.

"Why are you helping me?" Len asks him.

"Don't like bullies," the kid says shortly. "Never did."

Then he retreats again, dashing away every time Len comes anywhere near him.

"Don't you want something?" Len asks. "Something you want to do?"

"Nah," the kid replies. "I'm good."

"You're a ghost. You gotta want something."

"Not from you, you little punk."

The curiosity is starting to get to Len. Finally, he gives up on trying to figure out the kid's angle and takes a different approach.

"What's your name?" he asks.

The kid-ghost blinks, then narrows his eyes at him warily. "What's it to you, necromancer?"

Len makes a face. "I ain't a necromancer," he protests. "I can't raise dead or command ‘em or nothing; I just make 'em closer to real, s'all. Life-sharing. Totally different."

“Uh-huh. And what about summoning ‘em and making ‘em possess people or something?”

“No, that’s mediums. I ain’t never even met one of those, but I hear they’re creepy. I just…share, s’all.”

"Why you want my name, then?" the kid asks, still suspicious.

"'cause I'm getting tired of calling you kid-ghost," Len replies, exasperated. "And right now I don't got anything to shout if I need your attention."

"You've always got my attention," the kid grumbles. "My ma says you give someone your name, you give 'em power over you."

Len rolls his eyes. "Well, my name is Leonard Snart, but sometimes when my mom got mad she’d use the full on Leonard Jacob Snart birth certificate business. Now you know, so don't misuse it. And nice to meet you."

The kid finally cracks an involuntary grin. It changes his whole tough face, making it go bright and delighted, smashing that tough guy image with glee. "Oh what the heck," he says. "I'm Mick. That's Michael Christopher Sebastian Rory, actually, but everybody called me Mick."

"Nice to meetcha, Mick," Len says. "I'd offer to shake, but...well…" He wiggles his fingers. Magic, life-giving fingers.

Mick sniggers.

Maybe there is something to what Mick's ma said about names, because after that they're inseparable. Best friends from different eras, friends like neither of them ever had before. Maybe they’d have been best friends in this life, if only Mick wasn’t dead, but Len will take friendship with a ghost over nothing.

The other kids think Len's crazy, talking to himself, and ostracize him, relegating him to the outcast table with the quiet dangerous ones like Jumping Jimmy and Shrieking Sam and Cuckoo Charlie. (Len gets dubbed Lunatic Leo, which, ugh. He’s going to find a better nickname if it kills him.)

But really, Len doesn't mind where he sits, so long as he's got Mick.

Sitting at the crazy outcast table is kinda funny, actually; Mick's a pretty good judge of people, Len's found, and his invisible commentary over people's heads is hilarious.

"He's just got no volume control and a spoiled temper," Mick says of Sam. "Nothing to worry about."

"Ma said people like him just had a devil in 'em keeping them from sitting still," he says of Jimmy. "It ain't no problem, long as they keep busy."

"And Charlie?" Len asks, amused.

Mick considers this. "I think he's gonna grow up to eat people. Stay away."

Len snorts, but does.

Mick’s damn useful in a fight, which Len does inevitably get into, shouting advice (mostly “duck” and “hit him in the face”), and Mick likes watching fights, too. But most of all, Mick likes fighting the unquiet ghosts himself; in particular, he's got a real hatred of a group of white supremacists that got themselves stabbed in a gang fight back when the juvie was a real prison. They hate Len, which makes sense what with him being Jewish and all, but they still want his life, and that just pisses them off more, which means more fights for Mick.

"You like punching Nazis, huh?" Len teases.

"Hell yes," Mick says. "They're bad stuff, through and through."

"Regular Captain America you are."

"Who?"

“What d’you mean, who? Captain America! From the comic books!”

“I’m dead,” Mick points out. “I don’t keep up on popular culture.”

“No way,” Len says stubbornly. “Captain America’s been around forever. I’m pretty sure he was drawn punching Hitler in the face on his very first cover.”

“Say, that’s not bad,” Mick says, grinning a bit. “Punched him in the face, you say?”

“Didn’t you read comics?”

“Sure I did,” Mick says, crossing his arms. “Joe Palooka, Dick Tracey, Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers – the whole lot of ‘em.”

“What the hell are those?”

“You don’t know those?”

“I think I’ve heard of Buck Rodgers – he a spaceman or something?”

“Yeah, him and Flash Gordon, both of ‘em. Dick Tracey’s a sleuth, and Joe Palooka’s a boxer.”

“Don’t you got any crime fighters? Like in costumes? Superheroes?”

Mick wrinkles his nose when he frowns in thought. “Uh, I mean, I guess maybe the Phantom? It was brand new; real cool stuff, fighting pirates and stuff. They called him the Ghost Who Walks. Real sweet.”

“Brand new,” Len says, shaking his head. “When did you die again? The dark ages?”

“Eh, may as well have been,” Mick says. “We all thought the world was ending.”

“Every generation thinks the world’s ending.”

“Nah, not like ours,” Mick says. “Between the Depression and – what was it they were calling the black blizzards, the Dust Bowl? Anyway, between those two, it was real bad.”

“Wait,” Len says. “When exactly did you die?”

“Late 1936.”

“Shit. You are old.”

“Told ya,” Mick says smugly.

“Was there even a juvie here?”

Mick rolls his eyes. “No,” he says. “The juvie’s only a decade or two old. Before that it was a prison. Before that, it was a particularly badly run farm.”

“…your farm?”

“Well, yes.”

“You were a farmer?! Working the fields, calling in the cows, all that sort of thing?”

“I died first,” Mick reminds Len.

“But still – you’re so old.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no – it’s just – I’m gonna get you all the comics,” Len says, and does, even if it means spending some of his hard-earned money – all the juvie kids get pennies for every hour they work in addition to the required school time – and that of others (mostly the rich kids who get some from their parents in the mail) on some of the old reprints, the ones that go real cheap nowadays and are kinda corny by modern standards. But it's worth it.

Mick loves comics.

He can’t move the pages himself – not unless Len gives him some life, which Mick steadfastly refuses to accept – but Len can flip them nice and slow, letting Mick have time to read each page, and sometimes when Mick’s eyes keep crossing the letters too much to make it fun, Len reads them aloud to him, sound effects and all.

“Man, the library says Snow White hadn’t even come out in 1936,” Len marvels. “You know that? Snow White, man. That’s like the first ever Disney.”

“No, it ain’t,” Mick objects. “Disney’s the one with the shorts, ain’t it? Steamboat Willy. Silly Symphonies. Three Little Pigs.”

“Mick,” Len says solemnly. “You break my heart.”

“I sometimes watch that Disney stuff when they’re on the rec room TV,” Mick says, pouting. “I ain’t totally uncultured. S’just hard to remember stuff from after you’re dead, s’all.”

“You’re running out of life,” Len says, because he’s heard of it happening before. “Ghosts stick around because of what happened during their life, and they only remember what happened afterwards if they’ve got enough left over for it – you sure I can’t give you some?”

“No, Lenny,” Mick says, long-suffering.

Len sulks, and introduces Mick to Alice in Wonderland the next time the rec room’s free.

Probably a tactical error, since Mick shouts, “Off with their heads!” the next fifteen times he dukes it out with the unquiet dead, but hey, it’s funny.

“How’d you die?” Len asks one day, when he’s only got two weeks left to go in juvie, studying a deck of cards he’d lifted from a fellow student.

“Why do you want to know?” Mick asks, suddenly guarded.

“’cause I’m a nosy bastard,” Len says, since he can’t explain why he actually wants to know, which is that he wants to give Mick a gift. The dead carry on them what died when they died – clothing, stuff in their pockets, that sort of stuff. But Len’s found that if stuff ‘dies’ the same way a ghost does, he can hand it to the ghost and they can keep it.

He hopes it’s not something too weird. He doesn’t want to have to hang a deck of cards, or electrocute it, or have it get run over by a herd of chickens or something.

…that last one would be hilarious, though.

Mick grunts.

“Please?” Len says, which is rare enough that Mick gives him a suspicious look. “Not like I’m gonna tell anyone.”

Mick stays silent a few minutes longer, and then, abruptly, he gets up.

Len blinks up at him.

“Fire,” Mick says. “I died in a fire.” And then he disappears.

Len scowls in the direction of Mick’s ghostly self. He didn’t feel any passing-on-ness, or whatever you call it when a ghost kicks the bucket for good, so Mick’s just gone somewhere else to sulk because heaven forbid Len tries to learn some personal info about the guy beyond what type of breakfast he prefers (answer: corn mush with milk, or yesterday’s bread crusts – ick!).

On the other hand, it did give Len a bit of an opportunity.

Fire, huh?

Sounds like an unpleasant way to die, but at least it makes giving Mick stuff easier. Lifting a lighter from the guard that likes to smoke is easy enough, and finding a nice shady corner on top of lots of concrete to minimize excess burning is even easier.

Now he just needs Mick.

“Mick?” he asks the air.

No reply.

“Mick, you still sulking?”

Nothing.

“Mick, I could be being attacked right now. I’m not, but I could be.”

Zip.

Len contemplates pretending to die, but that seems a bit melodramatic.

“Hey! Mickey Mouse!”

Still nothing.

Hmm, and Len was sure that that would get him a punch in the face…

Mick couldn’t be gone, could he?

Len swallows. He really hopes Mick’s not gone. He knows that's wrong - you're supposed to hope that ghosts move on, not want them to stay - but he doesn't. He doesn't want Mick to go.

“Hey, Lunatic!” Tommy, one of the more annoying juvie kids, shouts. “Lost your imaginary friend?”

Len grits his teeth.

“Bet he left you ‘cause you were wasting his time,” Tommy taunts. “Poor kooky kid, what’ll he do all on his own?”

It’s just close enough to Len’s real fears that Len ends up punching Tommy in the face.

And then, as expected, spending the next ten minutes getting punched back by Tommy and his friends. And kicked. And –

Okay, the guards really should be intervening. Any time now.

“Hey, hold him down,” Evan Richards says. Evan Richards, never just Evan; he’s the sort of kid that would be – should be – exiled to the crazy person table, but he’s rich and his parents send him loads of treats, so he’s not. He’s got a big old grin on his face that Len doesn’t trust a jot.

“Why?” Tommy says skeptically. “He’s not getting up on his own anytime soon.”

Probably not true – Len’s a stubborn bastard – but closer than he’d like to admit.

Evan Richards’s grin widens. “I’ve always wanted to see what one of these does,” he says, and pulls out a little Swiss army contraption, used mostly for clipping or filing nails, that he’s sharpened well past any reasonable amount.

He’d probably call it a knife, Evan Richards would, but to people like Len, it’s called a shiv.

Shit.

“Mick!” Len screams, because he doesn’t trust the guards but Mick’s always come to help him before – if he’s still here.

The returning bellow of rage is the finest sound Len’s ever heard, right up there with Lisa’s first word (‘up’, as it happens; nothing but the best for his demanding little darling).

But Mick’s a ghost, barely even an apparition, and though he charges the fuckers that are holding Len down, he can’t do anything, just passes straight through, causing no more than a slight chill and a shudder.

“Mick, please,” Len says, struggling and kicking and keeping Richards back, just long enough, just long enough to get a hand free and reach out –

“God, he’s nuts,” Tommy laughs, and the others laughs with him. “Go for it – waste the cuckoo – no one’ll care –”

Mick reaches out and takes Len’s hand in his, and Len pushes, hard, with all the spare life he’s got in him.

Mick yowls, and Len can feel it too, like a zap from touching a live wire or a burst of static electricity, but then Mick’s there and all the kids are turning to look, shouting in surprise and demanding to know where the hell Mick came from and then Mick puts his fist into Evan Richards’ smirking face.

Three black eyes and a hell of a lot of bruises later, the gang breaks up and flees.

“Thanks,” Len pants. He’s pretty damn sore, and it’s only gonna get worse, but he has to find out if Mick’s okay – Mick, who didn’t want the extra power – the extra life –

“Holy crap,” Mick says, staring down at his hands. “I felt that. They felt that. That was – Len?”

“You angry at me?” Len asks. He’s feeling weirdly dizzy, the way you get if you haven’t eaten for three days and then you go sprinting from the cops. Everything hurts, but distantly, like he can’t really feel it.

“Angry – no, it’s not – Len, you’re looking real pale, you feeling okay?”

“Peachy,” Len says, and passes out.

When he wakes up, he’s in a bed in the nurse’s station, and Mick’s scowling at him from the next bed over.

Len’s got an IV.

Why’s he got an IV?

“Mick, why’ve I got an IV?” he asks.

Mick’s eye twitches.

“Uh,” Len says. “Mick?”

“That’s your first question?!” Mick roars.

“…yes?” Len says helplessly. “What, should I’ve started with ‘how are you’?”

Mick looks like he's considering strangling Len.

"I'm sorry," Len offers. Might as well get that out, if Mick’s already mad.

"What?" Mick says, annoyance disappearing into confusion. "Sorry for what?"

"For, you know," Len says, shrugging. "Prying. And sharing my life when you've been real clear you didn't want me to be sharing with you."

Mick stares at him for a long moment. "Len," he says eventually. "It ain't – you don't think it's your fault that I ain't taking bits of your life, do you?"

Well, when Mick says it in that incredulous tone, it sounds kinda dumb.

Len focuses on picking at the band-aid over the IV entry point on the inside of his elbow instead of replying, even though he knows that only reveals his guilt.

"Lenny, stop that," Mick says. "You need the IV."

"You never did say what it was for," Len says.

"It's to keep you alive, you nimrod. You nearly shoved all the life you had left up my goddamn arm."

"If Richards got me with the shiv, I wouldn't've had any life left to give," Len points out, but yeah, he distinctly remembers overdoing it in his panic. "S'that why I pass out like that?"

"That's why you swooned like a leading lady," Mick confirms.

Len glares. "Passed out, Mick."

"Whatever. Len – It ain't that I don't like you, or your life, or even having some of it myself, 'cause lemme tell you, being practically solid's been pretty awesome so far – "

"You're practically solid?" Len interrupts. "I ain't never done that before – "

"Lenny. Lemme finish. This is important."

Len shuts up.

"Anyway," Mick says. "What I mean to say is – I mean – oh, damnit. Len, I don't deserve any of your life."

"You just saved my life," Len says, unable to keep quiet. "Just as you've been doing this past month – "

"I started the fire!" Mick shouts. "I'm a firebug, and I knew it was bone dry, and I started that fire anyways, and that’s why everybody died! It was all my fault! I don't deserve nothing!"

"Oh," Len says blankly.

"Yeah," Mick says savagely, wiping at his face to clean up what they'd both pretend weren't tears when this was over. "So that's why."

Len nods. He's not sure what to say. He doesn't think anything will help a wound so deep that Mick became a ghost over it.

"I've heard of it before," he offers eventually. "Pyromania, it's called."

"What's that?"

"It's – " Len tries to remember. "It's a thing that happens to people, some chemical goes wrong in their brain, and then they start needing to light fires. Like an anxiety thing – can't calm down until there's a fire."

Mick frowns. “There’s a word for it?”

“Yeah,” Len says. “People that can’t help themselves around fires. It’s a medical thing.”

Mick looks stunned.

“What, thought it was just you?” Len jokes, except the look on Mick’s face kinda says that he did. “No, Mick, it ain’t you, if I’m right. It’s a – it’s a thing that happens sometimes, and no one’s to blame, you know. Sometimes people’s brains break, just like any bone, and you need medicine or something like that for it.”

“I still lit the fire,” Mick says, but he seems a little less burdened. “After they told me not to and everything. And even if I didn’t have a choice, I still should’ve warned ‘em about it.”

“That’s on you,” Len says, because people who say it’s not your fault when it is just make you feel worse. “But the fire thing, that ain’t –”

“How are you boys doing?” the nurse says, sweeping in.

“Fine,” Len says automatically, before realizing what she’d said.

He turns to stare at Mick. “Boys?” he mouths at him. What was with the plural?

“Told you I was near solid,” Mick mutters. “Hi, ma’am,” he says to the nurse.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Rory? You were having quite a fit out there.”

“Much better, ma’am.”

“We’ve alerted the police about your being here,” she continues briskly. “Since your name isn’t on the list.”

Len’s eyes go real wide at that.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mick says tranquilly.

“And you, Mr. Snart, how are you feeling?”

“Uh,” Len says. “Okay?”

“Do you need more medicine?”

“Yes,” Len says, because the answer is always yes. Even if you don’t actually need it, you can always sell it.

Also, he’s kinda sore. All over. Everywhere.

Actually, it hurts a lot. Fuzzy and distant, like he’s got good drugs going on, but still not good.

“Is anything gonna happen to the kids what did it?” Mick asks. “Evan Richards and Tommy and the rest of ‘em?”

The nurse looks slightly uncomfortable. “They’ll be punished,” she says, but Len can tell she means that they’ll be slapped on the wrist, at most. Maybe a bit of time in detention instead of out on the school yard.

Well, good enough for Len. He never did trust anyone to give out punishment on his behalf; he’ll figure out a way to pay them back himself later on.

That’s not what’s important right now.

Len waits until the nurse checks them both over and leaves.

“Mick,” he hisses. "They can see you!"

“Told you!”

“What are we gonna do? Your name’s not gonna be on any records! Not any they’re gonna check, anyway!”

“Don’t worry,” Mick says. “It’s fine. It’s fading away already, since you gave it to me all in one shot – look, I’m practically able to go through the bed again. Another day - another couple of hours - and I’ll be back to being invisible if I wanna be.”

“If you wanna be? You’ll still be a full-powered manifestation?”

“You gave me a lot of life, Lenny,” Mick says disapprovingly.

Len shrugs, then brightens and checks his pockets. Good, they didn’t take the cards, or the lighter. “Here,” he says, holding them out. “Burn this.”

Mick stares at him.

“What?”

“I tell you I’m a pyro- a pyro-many – that I’m a firebug, and you gimme something to burn?”

“You died in a fire,” Len says reasonably. “If you burn the cards, you’ll be able to carry ‘em with you as a ghost, even once all the life’s gone.”

Mick’s eyes go wide. “Really?”

“Really. They gotta die with you, or something. Same way you died. Anyways, if you’re a pyromaniac, you’ll enjoy watching them burn, too.”

“That’s what you wanted me to come ‘round for, wasn’t it?” Mick asks, looking guilty.

“It’s fine,” Len says, pushing the cards and lighter into Mick’s hands. “Really – say, how much life I give you, anyway?”

“Why?” Mick asks, pulling the cards and lighter close and cradling them.

“Well – and you don’t gotta do this if you don’t wanna, but – how bound would you say you are to this place?”

Mick blinks.

“I want you to come home with me,” Len clarifies.

Mick’s eyes go wide.

#dccoldwave #mick rory #leonard snart #my fic #deadfic

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aion-rsa · 5 years ago

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Watchmen Episode 6 Easter Eggs Explained

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Watchmen episode 6, "This Extraordinary Being" reveals the true origin of Hooded Justice and much more!

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This article contains major Watchmen spoilers.

HBO's Watchmen has been incredibly faithful to the spirit and the letter of the book. For some, that may change with how Watchmen episode 6, "This Extraordinary Being" reveals the real history of Hooded Justice. But despite what some might see as a drastic departure from the book, this episode is still positively packed with references to the original work that make its world all the richer. Here's everything we've found.

The Watchmen title getting replaced by the name “Minutemen” is the first clue of how this episode is going to go, as well as the purple letters that pay homage to the Hooded Justice costume. That being said, if Watchmen season 2 (disclaimer: there has been no word that this is actually a thing that is going to happen) turned out to be nothing but a black and white Minutemen series set in the 1940s, we’d very much be here for it. Oh, and the episode's title "This Extraordinary Being" comes from a line from Hollis Mason's autobiography, Under the Hood, used to describe Hooded Justice. Of course it does.

AMERICAN HERO STORY

The opening of the show, with Hooded Justice’s interrogation, is quickly revealed to be American Hero Story nonsense. “Turn that shit off,” indeed. Although, admit it, you lol-ed at “Captain Bigcockolis.”

It will be interesting to see as American Hero Story progresses what their theory of Hooded Justice’s identity actually is. The man who unmasks here is most certainly not Rolf Muller. Unless American Hero Story just plans to leave this as ambiguous as the Muller/HJ mystery was left in the book...a mystery that is put to rest by the balance of this episode.

However, the villains named by the crooked FBI agents are significant. Both Captain Axis and Moloch are canon Watchmen villains either named or actually seen in the original comic. Another, however, is “King Mob,” who certainly sounds like an appropriately pulpy villain from the 1940s, but is probably a reference to another towering work of comic book genius: Grant Morrison’s The Invisibles, where King Mob was the ultimate psychedelic secret agent.

WILL REEVES and HOODED JUSTICE

- The man who pins a badge on Will Reeves as he graduates from the police academy is apparently Lieutenant Samuel J. Battle, a real life figure who was New York’s first black police officer. So now the show has paid tribute to two important black lawmen in history, with Battle and Bass Reeves.

- To absolutely nobody’s surprise, Will takes inspiration for his full Hooded Justice costume from the Trust in the Law Bass Reeves movie we saw back in episode one.

- Will’s makeup under the Hooded Justice mask is an echo of how Angela Abar sprays a mask onto her face as Sister Night.

- Will is assigned to the 113th Precinct in the southeast part of Queens, New York. This lines up with the chapters of Under the Hood which place the first two Hooded Justice sightings in Queens. The details of the first (the mugging) are consistent with those of the book, with the only exception being that the witnesses felt their savior had “dropped into the alleyway from above” rather than charged in as we see here. It’s a minor detail, and one that can be chalked up to how eyewitness accounts can often lose key details like this, especially during such a traumatic moment.

- The first full costume Hooded Justice appearance that made the news (again, as recounted in Under the Hood) is the supermarket incident, also dramatized in an earlier episode of American Hero Story. This one is drastically different, with HJ leaping OUT through the window rather than in, and the attack having nothing to do with a supermarket stickup gone wrong. This illustrates just how well the Order of the Cyclops is able to cover up events and twist narratives to their advantage. Not relevant to headlines of today in any way, nope. Not chilling at all. Oh, and the romaine lettuce is a nice callback to episode one.

You can read much more about the conflicting histories of Hooded Justice right here.

- Fred’s “what the fuck are you supposed to be?” when he sees Hooded Justice for the first time mirrors something that Hollis Mason noted in Under the Hood, about how the costumed heroes felt more at home when they had someone else larger-than-life to fight. “You see, if you’re the only one who’d bothered to turn up for a free-for-all in costume, you tended to look kind of stupid. If the bad guys joined in as well, it wasn’t so bad, but without them it was always sort of embarrassing.”

Speaking of the Cyclops...

BEWARE THE CYCLOPS

- Back in episode five, when Looking Glass was following members of the 7th Kavalry into an abandoned mall in episode 5, you could spot graffiti on the walls of a large red eye. That appears to be the same logo as the KKK’s Order of the Cyclops is pushing here.

- Incidentally, during the American Hero Story sequence, the “incriminating” evidence of Hooded Justice and Captain Metropolis’ affair was discovered behind a “painting of a white horse,” which sounds suspiciously like the painting found in Judd Crawford’s home back in episode 2, “Martial Feats of Comanche Horsemanship.”

CAPTAIN METROPOLIS

- Nelson Gardner was very much the founder of the Minutemen, and according to little bits and pieces scattered throughout Watchmen lore, he did indeed approach potential heroes exactly as we see here, by trying to keep his identity secret and acting as a “representative” of Captain Metropolis. He also did indeed have a long standing sexual relationship with Hooded Justice. We wrote more about the history of Captain Metropolis right here.

Gardner’s casual dismissal of Hooded Justice’s concerns about a white supremacist conspiracy is in keeping with the character’s surprisingly conservative views. Gardner tried to form a new superhero group in the mid-1960s called “the Crimebusters” utilizing the second generation of superheroes, such as Laurie Juspeczyk’s Silk Spectre, Dan Dreiberg’s Nite Owl, and Dr. Manhattan. He wanted to combat the progressive unrest of the 1960s. It um...it didn’t work out.

- The “you wear your mask, I’ll wear mine” thing is yet another (kind of tedious and obvious, to be honest) nod to the idea that the wearing of costumes is as much a sexual thing for these characters as it is anything else. As seen previously with Laurie and Dale Petey in episode 3.

THE MINUTEMEN

Also visible (if you squint a little) during Captain Metropolis’ press conference introducing Hooded Justice are Silhouette, Nite Owl, Dollar Bill, and you can BARELY make out the shapes of Comedian and Silk Spectre. Maybe. But in any case, the Minutemen all seem to be present and accounted for here.

- We discussed that Dollar Bill poster, which was also visible in the first episode, in some more detail here.

- Captain Metropolis makes reference to Moloch’s solar weapon, which is also referenced in the book (although never actually seen).

SUPERMAN

- The Superman references that have peppered these episodes pop up in ways that are both obvious and subtle. The most obvious is the arrival of Action Comics #1 on the newsstand in 1938, as it’s the first appearance of Superman, something that clearly resonates with Will Reeves. In Watchmen’s supplemental chapters from Hollis Mason’s autobiography Under the Hood, it’s revealed that Mason took similar notice of Action Comics #1, and it planted the seed that led to him becoming Nite Owl.

Incidentally, there are a number of details wrong with Action Comics #1 as we see it here. While the iconic cover, with Superman hoisting and smashing a car full of toughs, is of course correct, the back cover features another illustration of Superman in flight. That picture is clearly from later in the 1940s, both because Superman still didn’t fly in 1938 and because the character’s costume is much more finalized and slick than it appeared in Action #1. The art style almost makes it look like something drawn by Fred Ray, who didn’t hook up with Superman creators Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster until the early 1940s.

More simply, though, Action Comics #1 featured a mail order advertisement as its back cover, not another picture of Superman. It was also a bigger, thicker book than what we see the newsvendor handling here. Look, folks...Action Comics #1 is the most important comic book ever published, of course I’m going to notice details like this. We can give Watchmen a pass that perhaps these things simply aren’t remembered to their finest details under the influence of Nostalgia and it’s the symbolic value that matters.

NITE OWL

- Will Reeves graduated from the Police Academy in 1938, the same year that Hollis Mason, the original Nite Owl did. Like Reeves, Mason took notice of the early appearances of Superman, and that, along with the arrival on the scene of Hooded Justice, helped influence his decision to become a costumed adventurer. Is it possible that Reeves and Mason graduated in the same class, or even knew each other independently of their time in the Minutemen?

- More directly, Will turning down his fellow officers’ offer of a beer echoes how Mason frequently turned down offers from co-workers to hang out. Why? Because he was too busy training to become a superhero to socialize. Maybe he was turning down offers from the same racist dipshits we see in this episode.

MISCELLANEOUS STUFF

- “Fred” wants to get home so he can listen to Amos ‘n’ Andy. Amos ‘n’ Andy was a radio show (later a TV series) about two black characters...who were written and voiced by white actors in stereotypical minstrel show fashion.

- Near the end of the episode, when we see the aftermath of the riot at the movie theater, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty is visible on the marquee. That film is from 1947, which means the events of this episode span approximately nine years. The film is about an otherwise ordinary man who has various “secret identities” in his rich fantasy life. Kind of appropriate in a show about superheroes.

This episode’s songs include The Ink Spots’ renditions of “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire” and “We Three (My Echo, My Shadow, and Me)”. I can't quite place which version of “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” this is.

Mike Cecchini is the Editor in Chief of Den of Geek. You can read more of his work here. Follow him on Twitter @wayoutstuff.

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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Mike Cecchini

Nov 24, 2019

Watchmen

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#aion-rsa #Books

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hamofjustice · 7 years ago

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I’m trying to figure out what to say if someone asks “Isn’t hating Nazis hate speech? Aren’t we/they both really the same if we say we’re going to hurt/kill them for what they believe in?”, because it’s a question we’re going to see a lot in the coming days. You may feel like if you “punch a Nazi” you’re saying “yes, we are the same”. You’re not, there’s a pretty obvious difference. The problem is trying to explain it to one of them.

The “abuser trying to paint themselves as the victim” situation is one of the most difficult ones to dismantle whether it’s a person or a whole movement, especially if they actually believe it and aren’t just manipulating you. They think (or act like) you’re the hateful person playing the victim card. The fact that they started it, and that just because you fight back doesn’t mean you wouldn’t rather have peace, seems to go unnoticed. They project their bullshit onto you as if their behavior is completely normal and something you would do back to them, and make a kill-or-be-killed situation out of nothing. Every time you fight back, they feel a little more valid in hating you and assume anyone that helps you is in on a conspiracy. If you don’t, you just have to roll over and take it.

Where do you suppose Nazis and other white supremacists get the idea of a “white genocide” theory? The idea that Jewish people or any other minority would want to take over the world and control/eradicate all other races/religions like we’re living in some twisted competitive game of Civilization?

Projecting.

They think the rest of the world would do the same shitty things that their most powerful and morally bankrupt members would do if given the chance, and they’re terrified of everyone because they wanna be the race that wins the game.

People pretty much universally accept that attacking someone for no reason is wrong, and self-defense is righteous and honorable. So Nazis make up some bullshit about how they’re defending themselves against the Jewish Conspiracy™ and now they can feel like the good guys and have an easier time recruiting people. (Kinda like how old America painted Native Americans as savages and modern America put a villain in charge of a country whose oil fields they wanted?)

I think a good number of Nazis or their sympathizers wouldn’t want to be the bad guys anymore if they knew and accepted that that was exactly what they are, manipulated by a severely misguided dead guy with a shitty mustache and an ego problem into believing in the same scapegoating and victim-blaming narrative that’s been told for centuries about the same terrified people again and again and lost literally a third of their entire global population to one hellspawn dictator only 75 years ago. I’m afraid of a vast rich conspiracy controlling the world too, but these guys are barking up the wrong tree as to who it is. They’re going after a group that is a minority wherever it goes, that for the most part doesn’t even have a home to run back to, if it’s even acknowledged as anything but just another religion.

But.. how can you make them see the light, if they assume that all the news they see is fake unless it comes from their leader, and that they are the redpilled defenders of real truth? Don’t forget there are still people who don’t even think the Holocaust happened. Like.. what do you even do with that? I’m pretty sure this post is only going to be read by people who already agree with me, and that’s pretty useless when you think about it.

A straight male white supremacist (not the only kind, surprisingly) does not understand what real persecution is because he’s never had to deal with it in his life. He thinks that people yelling at him for choosing to be a jackass (and having to read some Tumblr post from an angry kid who just took sociology 101 about all whites/straights/men being evil) is comparable to even 1% of what Jewish people or any other minority have been through. He thinks he’s Woke for believing that white people are secretly a persecuted minority that needs to fight back against the looming threat of “diversity” and “equality”, which are just secret codewords for “white genocide” and a threat to corrupt and erase the “master race”. It’s INCREDIBLE how detached from reality all of these alternative facts are. And you know what, none of this is a reach or an assumption, I’m talking about their core beliefs here.

Besides that, further reeling it back to reality, I think it’s ridiculous in the first place to ever treat an entire race (or country, or gender/sexuality, or even voluntarily-joined group) as if millions or billions of people can be a tight-knit hivemind where all of the members automatically approve of each other’s actions and can be blamed for everything a member does. That being said, it’s pretty clear who the problem here is if you wanna play that game:

Projecting.

If they’re looking for a race who’s trying to take over the world, hoard everyone’s money, and intrude into everyone else’s culture and gene pool, they should look in the mirror. There is a reason we call everyone who isn’t a white a minority.

I hope they figure it out soon before more people get killed, but I don’t know if they’re still listening anymore. Maybe a punch in the face is really all we’ve got.

I don’t know, just thinking out loud.

#charlottesville #nazis #antisemitism #white supremacy #nazi punching #i've been writing this for hours and i'm tired #long post #original content

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