#government takeover tw

[bonefall]

Question about Tiger- what WAS his end goal? We know that he wanted to be TC leader but he really quickly pivoted to "world forest domination" after that failed, which is one of those things that feels like thistle's law would oppose. Also why did he start going after half clan cats while also preaching for the clans uniting under him and him alone one leader? Other than kitty racism of course.

(Gently) If you think that Thistle Law would oppose total forest takeover, then I really recommend you head over to the masterpost on Thistle Law as a concept. Nothing about Thistle Law is isolationist, never has been

The ideology sets itself apart from Hard Traditionalism because it becomes willing to enforce some standard of xenophobic purity. That's what Tigerstar wanted to do. There is no "other than kitty racism." That's it. Stonefur, Mistyfoot, Stormpaw, and Featherpaw's lives are the result of codebreaking and that makes them lesser than other cats.

There is no logical reason for bigotry. It's not a principle. It doesn't make sense. It's reactionary discomfort and cruelty given form.

Tigerstar wanted to decide who was pure enough to live and who was filthy enough to die. These categories are arbitrary.

(Under the cut TW: speaking frankly about miscegenation, segregation, and genocide.)

"But if they all united under one Clan, then they'd just start mixing in the end, wouldn't they?"

No. They wouldn't. The steps go like this;

The groups live together and mingle too closely. To prevent them from interbreeding, the code is emphasized.

Someone breaks the code. They are punished.

The kits are dealt with; either eliminated or considered lesser.

But every birth of mixed children poses an "existential" threat. "Purity" is a concept that has to be protected, if a Pure parent mixes with the wrong parent, ALL of the resulting children are dirty. It is a threat to the concept of purity.

And this continues to happen, and "purity" must be protected, so... the groups need to be kept separate.

There is no such thing as "separate but equal." One group is an underclass, prevented from moving freely. This would have been RiverClan.

But the groups continue to mingle, people won't stay put in a ghetto. More extreme measures are taken. Sterilization, kidnapping, execution...

But that still doesn't work. There's only one solution; Genocide.

The logical conclusion of this ideology is genocide. That's where it ends. It doesn't matter if the fascist believes this at the stage he's at or not; that is the built-in conclusion.

Fascism is a death cult.

Tigerstar's goal was to take over the forest and arbitrarily decide which cats would be "True" cats of TigerClan. He would have weeded out cats seemingly at random, but heavily favored ShadowClan. Eventually, the Clans would shift into various classes, before each one is systemically eliminated.

IF he went unopposed. Fascism is unstable. Hyperemotional, self-obsessed, frothing egotists are REALLY bad at organizing government and its very structure is prone to infighting.

The enemy is everywhere, both strong and weak. You live in a constant state of paranoia. You waste all your money on ridiculous vanity weapon projects and overestimate your abilities to absurdity. You kill off all the intellectuals because you're too fragile to be told no. The biggest liar in history is the person who equated any kind of fascism with "evil genius," spite is blinding and insecurity makes you do stupid things.

Turns out, that's really bad for holding onto power. These regimes crumble like a shitty jenga tower eventually; problem is, they're deadly before that point and drag down thousands of innocent people on the way down.

[setra-studies]

heyyy, since you said youd like to tell me more about that japanese occupation thing, i am here requesting anything else about it just cuz you seem to have lots of fun explaining it!! :3

1940s : a filipino perspective

∘₊✧ ─── • ✧ • ───✧ ₊∘

oh my god !!!

thank you SO much for this ask!!!

alr alr i'll actually get started now

TWS: blood, war, injury, bombings, rape, murder, general war-crime stuff, HEAVY torture

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 1941: the start of fear

japan, aspiring to unite the countries in asia into the greater east asia co-prosperity sphere, called GEACOPS for short, had occupied manchuria already by the 1940s, and the philippines was the next thing japan wanted.

but the philippines was already occupied and colonized by the americans -- so this lead to the famous bombing of pearl harbour on december 7, 1941. in my textbook, here's an excerpt of the news in the honolulu star bulletin:

this was very strategic, as this was the largest american military base in the pacific, therefore cancelling out america disrupting japan's takeover as they were recovering from the bombing.

USAFFE (united states armed forces in the far east) were an army of filipino and american soldiers organized by general douglas macarthur, but were no match for the japanese forces. marching from north and southeast, the japanese moved toward manila and occupied the city.

an account of the pearl harbour bombing in the philippines by lourdes reyes montinola states:

on december 8, 1941, feast of the immaculate conception, we were on our way to church when news of the bombing of pearl harbour came. that same evening, a piercing siren warned us of an aerial attack--the first of a hundred we were to experience. we crouched in fear as the enemy dropped the first bombs, and our defenders fired anti-aircraft guns . . .

we remained unaware of impending tragedy until the day manila was declared an open city. we did not realize how bad things were going to be until we saw enemy soldiers carrying white flags with the red sun slowl passing through taft avenue . . . soon after, our house was commandeered by the japanese as were many other residences on vito cruz and taft avenue . . .

general macarthur declared manila an open city on december 26, 1941, which means it has been abandoned by its defenders. the japanese invaders, however, continued bombing, until vital installations and buildings of manila were gone. on new year's day 1941, USAFFE retreated into the hills and forest of bataan in the west, foreshadowing an even which will eventually be called the most inhuman atrocity in world war ii -- the bataan death march.

in the afternoon before christmas day, december 24, 1941 amid heavy bombings in the city the national government headed by quezon* and osmeña* were evacuated to the island fortress of corregidor. secretary of justice jose abad santos, general basilio valdes, and colonel manuel nieto were with them. manila was left under the care of jose p. laurel, the acting chief justice and the city mayor, jorge vargas. at the malinta tunnel in corregidor, quezon and osmeña took their oath for their second term as president and vice president of the philippine commonwealth*. after a few days the group left for australia and then for the united states.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ surrender and the open city

moving on to the horrific death march in bataan, soldiers were imprisoned by the japanese. but with no provisions, they were then ordered to walk to camp o'donnel, a concetration camp in capas, tarlac, and their march reached a whopping total of 126 kilometers.

but before that could happen, first, on april 9th, 1942, the 75,000 strong USAFFE soldiers in bataan laid down their arms, surrendering to the japanese. may 6th, 1942, the last remaining stronghold, corregidor, was also surrendered by general wainwright.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ the horrors of bataan

to understand the terrible nature of this event, you must understand that no one had water. no one had food. no town could offer the dehydrated, starving filipino and american soldiers food or water or risk being beat by the japanese. escape was impossible, as the japanese shot down whoever attempted to do so. not even dirty canals or wells were available to men for drinking water. the dead were left to grow hot in the sun by the roadside, and if you were nearly dead the japanese would just shoot you and end it already. watches, rings, fountain pens, everything was looted by the japanese soldiers from the USAFFE men.

of the group that started in bataan, 10,000 died. more died in the concentration camp.

from san fernando, surviving prisoners were densely packed into boxcars with no ventilation and brought to capas. as the trains moved to their location under the hot sun, the boxcars became ovens that cooked the men inside alive.

six kilometers were left after their trip, that were once again agonisingly walked by the soldiers. 15,000 died of hunger, malaria, diarrhea, and more executions. a war veteran by name of quirico v. cadang shares his experience in his memoirs:

the earlier mentioned jose p laurel now acted as president of what is called the puppet government -- named after the japanese's puppetry of the new president. laurel was actually doing well in regards to running the country and reducing harm done, and allowed philippine history to finally be taught in schools. this government, the japanese-sponsored republic, was inaugurated on october 13, 1942.

beheadings, cutting of throats, and casual shootings were the more common actions of japanese war atrocities--compared to instances of bayonet stabbing, rape, disembowelment, rifle butt beating and a deliberate refusal to allow the prisoners food or water while keeping them continually marching in tropical heat. falling down or inability to continue moving was tantamount to a death sentence, as was any degree of protest.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ the state of the government

economy was at an all time low during the occupation -- food and water scarce, as money was used to repair bombed buildings and such. prices soared in result.

the japanese kempeitai raided houses with unregistered radios, whos owners were then imprisoned in fort santiago, and inhuman punishments were meted out to them as a daily exercise.

failing to bow to the japanese sentries stationed at street corners resulted in harm to whoever had done so -- but that was not the main source of fear. the spy was.

filipinos could also be spies for the japanese -- called the makapili (literally meaning "choosy" or "the one who chooses"). he was to identify rebels (called guerrillas) and those identified would become targets and would be executed accordingly.

many years after the war, the abuses done to filipino women came to light. the "comfort women" were used to relieve soldier's sexual urges, and were often gathered into houses, even schools to be raped over and over every day. the infamous pulang bahay (red house) is the most well known place where this happened.

remedios fellas, 72, presented her story in a book entitled "the hidden battle of leyte: the picture diary of a girl taken by the japanese military." i will not describe anything in the book, as i deem it perhaps too graphic for this blog and i don't want people to get scared off. but i will say that stories like these were truly horrible, and no woman should ever suffer like this as spoil of war ever again.

by 1945, the americans were ready to return. after a bit of island-hopping (and subsequent victories), the leyte gulf war commensed. the american fleet, composed of 650 ships and 4 army divisions, cleared the area and subdued the japanese troops. from october 24 to 26, the battle for leyte gulf took place. the battle at surigao strait ended with the japanese annahilated. the battle of samar, after an endless day of fire and shooting, the americans had the upper hand. leyte, liberated on october 26th, 1945, was now the temporary capital.

the guerrilla / resistance movement was the main source of rebellion, monitoring enemy activity and reporting to general macarthur, to carry out assaults against the japanese military, and to kill japanese sympathizers and spies.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ freedom in reach

manila's liberation finally took place on january 9th, 1946, as the americans surprised the japanese with a landing of troops in lingayen gulf. on february 3, the troops entered manila. freeing prisoners, over 1000 were saved from the bilibid prisons -- and these prisoners were those of bataan and corregidor.

seeing the futility of their situation, the japanese committed a final horror before the battle begun -- the manila massacre. violent mutilations, rapes, and murders took place. filipinos were gathered into houses to be shot or burned down, and women were mass raped. a japanese battalion order dates february 13th reads:

when filipinos are to be killed they must be gathered in one place and disposed of with the consideration that ammunition and manpower must not be used to excess. because the disposal is a troublesome task they should be gathered into houses scheduled to be burned or demolished. they should also be thrown into the river.

about 100,000 of the one million residents in manila died in the absolute massacre. 1,000+ us soldiers were also part of the casualties while 5,565 were wounded. 16,000 japanese soldiers died as well, mostly sailors. the battle of manila was recorded as the fiercest urban fighting in the entire pacific war.

when in class, we watched a video of this massacre -- manila was gone. razed to the ground. on february 23rd -- my own birthday -- the fighting stopped. buildings gone. ground dirty with blood of filipinos, americans and japanese alike. the past six years culminated into a battle of the greatest intensity, and it ended in a city destroyed completely. the beauty of manila nowhere to be seen, the filipinos won back their independence at a cost too heavy to carry.

in malacañang palace, macarthur gathered the filipino leaders, finally declaring a statement that brought joy to the nation, that allowed the deaths of thousands of rebels to have come to use:

my country has kept the faith. your capital city, cruelly punished though it be, has regained its rightful place--citadel of democracy in the east.

∘₊✧ ─── • ✧ • ───✧ ₊∘

thank you for reading. feel free to request other historical events.

if you read through this and feel very traumatized, play tetris. you'll likely forget most of the traumatizing details. i apologize in advance.

[mariacallous]

It isn’t usual for the United Nations’s human rights chief to write a letter to the new owner of a technology company. But last week, that’s exactly what Volker Türk did.

In an open letter to Elon Musk days after his takeover of Twitter, Türk laid out six principles he urged Musk to keep “front and center” for the platform, including the protection of free speech, prevention of hate and violence, and effective content moderation in non-English languages. 

“As the new owner of Twitter, you have enormous responsibilities given the platform’s influential role as a digital space,” Türk wrote.

Türk was right to be concerned. A day earlier, Musk laid off half of Twitter’s global workforce—around 3,700 people—which included its entire human rights team, according to a tweet from the company’s human rights counsel, Shannon Raj Singh. According to local reports, most of Twitter’s workforce in India was let go, and Twitter’s first Africa office in Accra, Ghana, was reportedly gutted less than a year after it opened and days after employees convened in person for the first time. Twitter did not respond to a request for comment on the layoffs.

The company’s user base around the world numbers in the hundreds of millions, and while that is far smaller than social media competitors such as Meta, YouTube, and TikTok, Twitter plays an outsized role in hosting and driving the global conversation. It is used by world leaders, government agencies, dissidents, activists, and journalists—in many cases against each other. 

In the past, Twitter has stood up for freedom of expression and human rights against governments that wish to curb those rights. In India, it filed a lawsuit against the government over demands to take down numerous accounts. In Nigeria, Twitter was banned for seven months after it took down a tweet by the country’s president, Muhammadu Buhari, that was interpreted as threatening violence against protesters. (The platform was reinstated earlier this year after Twitter pledged to establish an office and appoint a representative in the country.)

“Twitter has over the last several years developed a reputation for pushing back on government demands or resisting ones that in its view seem inconsistent with either local law or human rights law, or [its] values as a company,” said David Kaye, a law professor at the University of California, Irvine, and the former United Nations special rapporteur on the promotion and protection of the right to freedom of opinion and expression. 

Musk’s focus so far has been on squeezing money out of users to make up for vanishing advertising revenues, adding digital payment capabilities to Twitter and making employees return to the office. He hasn’t discussed how the platform will deal with some of the thornier issues it faces around misinformation, election security, government repression, and hate speech. 

“Musk has shown little sign of concerns for Twitter users or employees that are outside the U.S.,” said Mishi Choudhary, a lawyer and online rights activist who founded the Indian branch of the Software Freedom Law Center. “Between the claims for absolute free speech and compliance of laws, it is clear that the learning curve for the billionaire will be steep.”

Twitter’s ability to effectively moderate content and protect its most vulnerable users took several more hits on Thursday with the simultaneous departures of its chief information security officer, its chief privacy officer, and its head of trust and safety. 

“People who are in really high-security situations should not have been using Twitter for direct messages that are risky anyway, but that doesn’t mean people weren’t doing that. There’s a lot of community there,” Kaye said. “I don’t think [Musk] is thinking much about it at all, and since he fired most of the people who do that work, I don’t see how he can get up to speed on what that involves.”

Twitter and other social media platforms have long been accused of not doing enough to crack down on hate speech and misinformation around the world, including countries such as Ethiopia, Myanmar, Sri Lanka, and parts of the Middle East. Twitter has in some cases taken a stand to protect freedom of speech, refusing, for example, to take down hundreds of accounts last year at the behest of the Indian government during protests against controversial agricultural laws.

Twitter isn’t the only platform with a vast global reach and a problematic human rights track record that will now be operating with fewer employees. Meta, which has over a billion users around the world across platforms such as Facebook and WhatsApp, laid off 11,000 workers earlier this week, founder and CEO Mark Zuckerberg said in a public post. Zuckerberg did not reveal which teams and countries have been most significantly affected by the layoffs, and Meta already outsources much of its global content moderation around the world to contractors. The company has a history of missing key local context in overseas markets—often with devastating effects. In Myanmar, Facebook acknowledged that it did not do enough to prevent hate speech and violence against the Rohingya minority group, and documents leaked by a company whistleblower last year revealed it faced a similar issue in a more recent conflict in Ethiopia’s Tigray region. (A Meta spokesperson did not comment on the recent layoffs.) 

Languages have been a particularly tricky problem for platforms such as Facebook and Twitter, with blind spots around the world that have seen them struggle to police misinformation and hate speech in many cases.

“Moderation in non-English languages is significantly poorer than it is in English, both because of the lack of language expertise on the part of people at these companies but also because even the automated tools that help with content moderation work much less better for non-English languages,” said Samir Jain, policy director at the Center for Democracy and Technology in Washington, D.C. “We were already in a situation where the social media companies weren’t as good at moderating speech online; the real fear is that they’re going to become materially worse.”

Even as Musk’s Twitter devolves further into internal chaos, experts point out additional vulnerabilities for the platform’s global operations stemming from his business links. Musk’s co-investors in Twitter include government entities from Saudi Arabia and Qatar, and his ownership of electric carmaker Tesla and satellite company SpaceX could give governments additional leverage against Twitter. Should that come to pass, it is not clear that Musk—who has said he believes in free speech as long as it “matches the law” in the applicable country—would take a meaningful stand.

“He’s got Tesla trying to open and build markets in places like India, so how does that weigh into his desire to be more responsive to government demands?” Kaye said. “It’s all just deeply concerning in ways that I certainly didn’t fully anticipate just a couple of weeks ago.”

[aglimpseofsomethingintimate]

Henry’s backstory

TW: War crimes, r/pe, executions, massacres

(Me realizing that by making Klos and Henry have an age difference of about a decade that Henry will have to be old enough to witness and remember this event vividly😬….)

There are two survivor stories mentioned in the following article. In both cases though they ended up shielded by dead bodies, just a matter of whether it was their own family or not. [1] And unfortunately for Henry, it’s the latter case for him. :( His whole family dies, including his relatives. He’s the only survivor.

I’m so sorry Henry 💔 Anyway. Heavy heavy trauma for both Henry & Klos. Also contrary to the victims in the article Henry grows up (rightfully) as a very very angry kid. Anger as a replacement emotion for fear. He has not forgiven he has not forgotten 🫶 This is the start of his jaded worldview and disillusionment with governments in general, and he still has this scornful view for Vietnam’s government post- takeover :/ which, fair enough. He’s just seen so much first hand horrors from both sides he truly hates it all.

[1] https://www.aljazeera.com/amp/news/2018/3/12/survivors-recall-us-massacre-in-my-lai

Further reading:

[rouge-la-flamme]

A snowy day in M-sur-M (Umi-no-Kodera in this AU). Though still not definitively located, this town is near the northwestern coast, facing foreigners across the sea, like its French counterpart. [1] The town is on the mountain slopes, and its rice harvest is not enough to meet its subsistence needs and tax obligations: it relies on industry, which was weak before Valjean’s arrival. Valjean’s town is (probably) governed by a domain in Dewa province. The daimyō (domain lord) is on call to supply military service against northern enemies when necessary—Russians, or the Ainu who live in Japan’s colonial buffer zone against Russia. Javert’s mother was one of the Ainu living at the northern tip of Japan (excluding Hokkaidō), and Javert’s ancestry is thus entwined with the military-colonial importance of this region. The daimyō is financially strained by this same military role, which makes him grateful for the prosperity that Valjean brings to the region. [2] Valjean’s business is glass in this AU as in the original, but glassmaking has a different dynamic in Japan than in France. As we shall see, this industry reflects Valjean’s antipathy toward the authorities who would now like to include him in the very system that has oppressed him.

Javert, as we know, has already been coopted by the system that oppresses him. A prologue on Javert and Japanese-Ainu relations is under the cut. [3] (tw for descriptions of colonial racism)

Japanese-Ainu relations. At the start of the Tokugawa era (about 1600), Japanese society did not extend north of Honshū (Japan’s “main” island). Ainu inhabited Hokkaidō (modern Japan’s northern island), some islands farther north (Sakhalin and the Kurils in modern Russia), and the northern tip of Honshū. In Japanese, Hokkaidō and the northern islands were called Ezo or Ezochi—barbarian land—reflecting the mainstream Japanese view of the Ainu and nearby peoples. With the aid and blessing of the bakufu, the Matsumae family and their contractors progressively subjugated the Ezo Ainu through violently enforced isolation and exploitation both economic and ecological. (Disease also helped.) The Honshū Ainu were caught on the Japanese side of the border confining their northern brethren. They lived in the Nanbu and Tsugaru domains, where they had outcaste status. Over the course of the 18th century, bakufu fears of Russian encroachment became acute. Tsugaru reacted by assimilating its Ainu residents, promoting them to commoner status and ordering them to adopt Japanese customs. (Nanbu no longer contained differentiated Ainu communities.) By the 1780s and ’90s—while the bakufu was heading toward direct takeover of Ezo—Tsugaru Ainu had adopted all outward Japanese culture, though private Ainu customs were rumored to survive.

Javert in Japanese society. Javert’s mother is one of the Honshū Ainu. Her community has outwardly assimilated to Japanese culture by the time of Javert’s birth, about 1780; and Javert’s adoption by the Japanese authority system further alienates him from his ethnic roots. In Japanese at this time, the word “ningen”—“human”—is used to distinguish the Japanese from the Ainu. (“Ainu,” ironically, is the Ainu word for “human:” so “ningen versus ainu” means “human versus human.”) In referring to la face humaine de Javert, ostensibly in juxtaposition with his animal parallel, our Japanese Hugo makes a bold statement on the sly, because that face deliberately includes traits emblematic of Ainu otherness—most obviously, Javert’s wavy hair. Tokugawa depictions of Ainu place emphasis on their hair, rendering it unbound and fluffy with a gentle wave, in contrast with the sleek and tightly bound hair of Japanese figures in the same images: hair is a central focus of Japanese attempts initially to demonstrate Ainu barbarity and then to assimilate the Ainu to Japanese culture.

Notes.

[1] The location and economy of this AU’s Montreuil-sur-Mer is inspired in large part by the home region of Suzuki Bokushi, Valjean’s real-life contemporary and fellow businessman. His story is told in Moriyama, Crossing Boundaries in Tokugawa Society. (Valjean’s snow-resistant boots and hood come from illustrations in Bokushi’s book about his region. Javert is inadequately dressed because he refuses to supplement his miserable wages by the traditional extortion method.)

[2] Info on northern domains’ military duties and related status and expenses comes from Howell, Geographies of Identity in 19th Century Japan. A domain’s rank in the Tokugawa hierarchy was determined by its kokudaka, or official yearly revenue, which might differ from actual revenue. Tsugaru’s and Nanbu’s kokudaka were deliberately inflated to give them prestige befitting their military importance: an expensive honor, as it brought inflated obligations to the bakufu in taxes and military support. The domains’ location was not only colonially important but also far from Edo, which made travel to Edo extra expensive—and the daimyō all had a legal duty to live in the capital during alternating years. (This duty of “alternate attendance” was designed to keep daimyō too poor to finance a rebellion.) Saga domain, with corresponding military duties and expenses in the south, encouraged industry in order to relieve its financial pressures: see Ariko Ota, “Porcelain and Power.”

[3] The information on Japanese-Ainu relations can be found in Brett Walker, The Conquest of the Ainu Lands: Ecology and Culture in Japanese Expansion, 1590-1800 and in Howell’s Geographies of Identity. Tokugawa depictions of the Ainu tend to serve the Tokugawa imperial aspirations, just as—in the milieu of the original Les Mis—orientalist works tend to serve French imperial aspirations: in both cases, the depiction suggests that the foreign group requires the guidance of the supposedly more capable and enlightened civilization at home. Such depictions exaggerate the foreigners’ strangeness (and inferiority) and pander to the audience’s expectations about the foreigners’ appearance. Even photos are staged for this purpose. Meanwhile, the foreign group is silenced, unable to counteract the misinformation. It’s a nightmare for research, and one must tread carefully. Javert’s character design picks a couple of traits that are plausible, and yet sufficient to prevent him ever from blending into the society that he serves and guards.

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - When Lovely meets Angel

Summary: When the boyfriends are away, their partners try their best to be functioning members of society. Spoiler alert: they failed. 

Tw: [Mentions of Adam], [Profanity] and [Very, very brief mention of drugs. Like, half a sentence]

I shared this oneshot in the Discord server and I thought to share it here too before uploading it on AO3 later this weekend. 

-

You smile as your eyes do their best to track Vincent’s every move. Your head spins as your boyfriend flits from one room to another, never pausing for even a second. His duffel bag is lying beside you on the couch, gradually full of clothes, toiletries and other travelling necessities as he chucks them in Mach speed. 

You pick up the clothes that didn’t make it into the bag. You fold them nicely before placing them in with the rest. 

“Alright, I’ve stocked up the pantry to last at least for a few weeks, b-but I’ll be back by Sunday so don’t worry.” The blur that was Vincent said as he ran from their shared bedroom to the kitchen. With a fond shake of your head, you observe the Vampire made one last round. 

Letting Vincent fuss is your way of helping him calm down. And sure enough, it only takes a few minutes until your boyfriend is satisfied with the apartment - from the wards that he erected to the well-stocked kitchen and rows of laundry detergents. With the way he prepared for his departure, you couldn’t help but want to remind Vincent that he’ll only be leaving for three days; not three months. 

“Do you have Alexis’ number, Lovely? Sam’s?” Vincent asks - again - in concern as he pad towards you and the duffel bag. “Hang on, I’ll forward them to you now -” 

You grab his hand before he could reach for his phone and force him to sit beside you on the couch. You peck him on the cheek to startle him. No matter how many times you’ve done this; Vincent always reacts the same. Startled with a tinge of red dusting his pale cheeks. A simple kiss is enough to leave him speechless and it never fails to make your heart skip a beat at how precious he is. 

“Yes, you gave them to me this morning. I have their numbers on speed dial for any emergency of the Adam kind.” You easily assure him, only to backtrack quickly when you see how wide his eyes went. Oh yikes, bad move! Bad move! “N-Not that there will be any problem! Haha! I mean, you’re only going away with Will for three days, right? I can hold the fort, don’t worry!” 

Vincent bit his lower lip, still hesitant. “I wish I didn’t have to go, Lovely. It hurts to be away from you…” His head tilts down and holds your hand tight, yet always mindful of his Supernatural strength. “Sometimes… sometimes I could still see you in Adam’s arms, so pale and sick… your blood on his mouth - ”

“Hey, hey, Vince? Look at me please.” You gently tilt his chin using your hand that wasn’t captured by your worrisome boyfriend. You made sure to properly look him in the eyes before smiling softly. “You got me in time and for that? I’m forever grateful, but that’s in the past, OK? I’m here now with you! We both have been making good progress at D.A.M.N so that has to count for something, yeah? We’re both stronger than we were before.” 

That earns a tiny smile from Vincent and you mentally cheer in victory. “You always know what to say, huh, Lovely? And yeah, we’re pretty badass now, huh? A Vampire and an Electro Energetic? We’ll conquer this city in less than a month.” He joked. 

You try to picture it: you and Vincent - the King and Queen of Dahlia. The first thing you would do is declare PJ Friday - where everyone must wear PJs every Friday and those that wear the silliest PJs get brownie points. Collect enough of them and they’ll get a free meal in the most expensive restaurant Dahlia has to offer. Vincent can handle the boring stuff like, governing and health care. 

...Now that’s a thought; Vincent as a politician. 

Ah wait - Will would probably be disappointed in them if they tried to do a hostile takeover of this city and you couldn’t bear to disappoint him. After all, no one can pull off the perfect sad dad look other than Vincent’s Sire. Not even your own dad! 

“ - Lovely? Uh, Earth to Lovely? You there?” 

Vincent’s warm voice broke you off from your mad train of thoughts. You flash a sheepish grin when he realised that you haven’t paid a single word he said. Vincent wants to appear annoyed but his lips are twitching, as if he’s holding back from laughing at the dumbfounded expression on your face. 

“Sorry, babe. I spaced out because Will was disappointed in us.”  

“...What? Will? Lovely, what the - ”

“Anyway, don’t worry about me.” You quickly interject before you have to explain yourself. “You got me food, Alexis’ and Sam’s numbers are on my speed dial and my powers have been growing nicely over the last few classes. I got this; you got this.” To seal the deal you added, “And I promise to call you twice a day; in the morning and before I go to bed. Sounds good?” 

That finally assured Vincent. The tension melts away from his taunt shoulders and when he kisses you, it’s slow and sweet. You would’ve loved to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him on top of you and turn this into something more, but Will would surely call him if Vincent is late. 

Vincent moans when you pull away; disappointed and slightly frustrated. “Easy there, Vince. I’ll make sure to give you a very warm welcome when you get back.” You purr, loving how his eyes lid at your promise. 

But alas, as much as you love to drag Vincent to the bedroom, work comes first. So you allow Vincent to fuss around a little more before he slings the duffel bag over one shoulder, kisses you goodbye and leaves. 

Now, you planned this. You have a whole itinerary in your head for the days that Vincent is on a business trip with the King of the Solaire Clan. Assignments that need to be done, Despacito to learn on the piano (neither of them knew why Alexis dropped off an upright piano in their apartment on a random ass Wednesday night and when asked, she just cackled before pulling off a Batman and vanished into the night. So Vincent gave up trying to pester the answer out of her. You still think it’s some sort of an elaborate prank), boba pizza to cook for dinner tomorrow and a list of video games to pre-order so really, you would be so busy for the upcoming days that you wouldn’t even have the time to miss Vincent. 

If you repeat that long enough, you hope that’ll become true. 

Glancing at the clock hanging on the living room wall, you sigh at the time.10.30 PM. A little early to get ready for bed but hey, it’s not like there’s anything else that you want to do now. 

With little fanfare, you make sure that the apartment is locked and secure, switch off the lights before heading to the bedroom for your nightly ablutions.

-

Ok, that part about the itinerary? Yeah, that’s completely out of the window the moment you wake up missing Vincent’s arms around you. 

The gentle and warm sun rays pierce through the sheer curtains, promising a bright day ahead of you, but all you could think about is the space in this bedroom. Was the bed always this big? Was the bedroom always this quiet? Those questions rattled in your brain and it really doesn’t help that you can smell Vincent’s faint cologne lingered on the pillows. Soothing vanilla that never fails to clear your mind as opposed to sandalwood and bergamot. Vincent once claimed that the scent is too fancy for someone like him. 

Right now though? His cologne sends a pang of longing in your heart in his absence, and it’s only the first day! 

“I can’t stay here.” You decided out loud when the tangle of sleepiness ebbed away. Kicking the thick duvet off your body, you stomp to the bathroom to shower, dress up and quickly leave the apartment with nothing but your phone and backpack. 

You didn’t want to return to an empty apartment, so what better than walking around the city to distract yourself? Grab some breakfast at a new cafe, maybe do some window shopping afterwards… yeah, that sounds way better than anything you’ve planned before. 

Joggers pass you by as you walk through the park and the city slowly comes back to life. People are out and about, going through their monotonous day. Some are catching the bus, others are like her, eager to find something to eat. 

You recall that your classmate mentioned that they and someone named Damien found a Taiwanese bakery/cafe that recently opened up near the city’s library; a quaint little shop, squeezed between a hardware shop and a health & beauty care chain store. You can still remember how their eyes lit up as they excitedly described the brioche and the strawberry tiramisu they ate with vivid details. 

So that’s where you’re headed off to now. 

Apparently, the bakery is closer than you thought when you cut corners and jump through the shortcuts. Being born and raised here in Dahlia like so many others, you knew this city like the back of your hand. Though the existence of Shifters, Vampires, Daemons and more were a slap in the face to you.

Oh, that reminds you, be sure to ask Vincent if the Vampires have anything similar to Fangtasia here in this city. 

The bell above the door chimes when you enter the bakery. The sign outside says ‘OPEN’ but since it’s still quite early in the morning, you and a couple sitting at a table near the corner are the only customers currently. Manning behind the cashier is a young woman and her co-worker setting up freshly baked goods behind the display glass. 

You made a beeline to the counter. 

“Good morning. Uh, can I please have one sea salt coffee - regular size - one red bean mooncake and, umm…” You paused to scan the menu laid before you. “And a marble taro.” 

There. That's sort of a healthy breakfast, right? 

The young woman hardly bats an eye at your order. She drawl out the total amount of your food and drink to which you hand her some cash before choosing a table beside the large window so you could see the city and her people go about their lives. The scent of freshly baked pastries, hot chocolates and brewed coffees wash over you pleasantly. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if Vincent would love this place as much as you do… 

The cashier came over with a tray of your order before your musing could spiral down further. You thank her, snap a picture of your food and coffee for Vincent before enjoying your breakfast. It’s a perfect morning, well, almost a perfect morning… 

Halfway through your coffee, your phone vibrates. Vincent had texted back: 

‘Looks delish, Lovely! Make sure to finish your meal, OK? My flight was a nightmare - I’ll spare you the details - but Will and I reached the airport safely. I’ll call you soon, Lovely. I love you, always.’ 

Vincent’s text helps to fill his absence, somewhat. You polish off the last bit of your coffee and exhale loudly; there’s no use moping around. Adventure awaits! After all, there’s never a dull day here in Dahlia. For all you know, something is right around the corner just for you! 

Tummy warm and full, you bask in the morning light for a few more minutes before exiting the bakery. 

...And promptly collide with a walking furnace. Because seriously, the moment your chest hits them, it feels as if their body heat lunges at you.

“Ow!” You fell and landed hard on your ass. Whoever had the misfortune to collide against you, they were a tad taller and seemed to be in a rush to be able to hit you with an impact. 

“Oh fuck! I’m so so sorry! Are you alright!? I ran too fast because I always missed out on their marble taros! Oh gosh, oh gosh; can you hear me? Shit, I really hope I didn’t hurt you too badly…” The stranger rambled worriedly. 

“I-I’m fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me.” You assured them and gladly grabbed the offered hand. They gently pull you up from the pavement. 

“You sure? I can take you to the hospital right now if you want!” They pressed on, eyes checking for any sign of injuries on your body. “Just after I buy my pastries though.” 

You didn’t expect the blatant honesty; the idea that some loaves of bread are this person's top priorities crack you up. You couldn’t help it, so you burst out a giggle. 

“I’m good, I’m good; don’t worry.” You hiccup and wipe a stray tear from the corner of your right eye. You can’t believe this. “Go get your bread and oh, for the record? I totally get why you rush here. Their marble taro is really something else. You better hurry up; I heard the cashier said they’ll be making the last batch for the day.”

You smirk when the walking furnace’s eyes widen in horror. They darted into the bakery without a single word. The bell chimes loudly when they rush to yank the door and scramble towards the counter.

Just for the fuck of it, you lean against the window and decide to wait. Snippets of frantic conversation can be heard inside and it wasn’t long before the bell tinkle once more. 

The stranger that bumped into you pout, clutching a huge paper bag of pastries close to their chest as if they feared you would snatch it. “You lied.” 

“Shocker, I know.” You tease and then you feel your blood froze despite the warm morning. You suddenly recalled where and from whom you heard those words before and quickly stomped the image out of your head. 

“Uh, dude? Are you sure you’re alright? You look super pale.” The stranger narrowed their eyes on you. Despite the blatant concern on their face and how genuinely friendly and cheerful their voice is, you get the feeling that they’re trying to pull you apart by the seams to see if you would lie or not. 

So you opt for the honest option. “I will be.” You assured them. “Just some… bad memories pop up.” 

“Huh, well that sucks.” They glance at the bag of pastries for a moment, silent and contemplating. They then thrust it practically in your face before you could do so much as flinch. “You want some? Food always helps me feel good when I’m sad.” 

The loaves of bread smelled really good but for the second time, you giggled. “No, no, I’m full. Thank you though; that’s very kind of you to offer.” 

“It’s only the right thing to do.” They reply with an easy shrug. You get the feeling that the stranger’s kindness is something remarkable. “The name is -” 

Across the street, a truck driver pressed the horn when the car in front of him refused to budge despite the traffic lights having switched from red to green for ten minutes now.

“ - but you can call me Angel; all my friends do. Now that we’ve bumped into one another, your destiny just altered. Our fates will forever be intertwined once you give me your name.” 

Oh, you like where this is going.

“I’m - ” The driver in front of the truck kicked open his door and proceeded to shout at the truck driver. A line of cars gradually formed behind the vehicle and horns began to blare as a brawl broke out in the middle of the road. “ - nice to meet you!” 

“A lovely name…” Here your new friend - Angel - trailed off, their eyes appraising your body. “For a lovely soul. Lovely. Huh. Can I call you that?” 

Gorgeous, brimming with moxie mix with a spoonful of friendly flirting? Oh, you like them more and more by the second. 

Also, you idly wondered if there’s some weird magic attached to your name or else this is going to be a pattern every time you introduce yourself. 

“Sure.” You answered, and the two of you shook hands. 

“Say… who do you think would win? Godzilla or King Kong?” 

“Psh, is that even a question? Godzilla, obviously. He’s the king of monsters for a reason! And grandpa got his Atomic Breath; what does Kong even have?” 

“You. I like you. I have a feeling that this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.” 

When there’s no escaping from Angel’s octopus arm of love and friendship around your shoulders, you let yourself be swept away. 

-

“So you’re an Electro Energetic?” 

“Yup.” 

“Got any plans on what you’re going to be in the future?” 

“To shed my mortal body and transform into King Ghidorah.”

“...Can I be the left head?”

“I was hoping you’d ask that. We need the right head, though.” 

“I’ll give my friend a call; they’re a Freelancer studying at D.A.M.N too. Maybe you’ve seen them around?”

-

“Wait - you said your boyfriend is a Vampire?”

“He’s more of a dork than a Vampire, but yeah.”

“Cool, cool. Hey, my boyfriend is a Werewolf. Do you know what this means?” 

“...Twilight marathon?” 

“Twilight marathon! We have to do it. Let’s go, Lovely; you’re going to crash at my place for the best movie night of your life!” 

“I’ll grab some food and drinks from my place. Will be there in twenty minutes.” 

-

“This is the third time I’ve watched these movies and I think they just got worse over the years.” You complained, chugging down your fourth can of Red Bull. You don’t drink, so you wondered if this is how it feels like to slowly go drunk. Or high. 

You’re in your sleep wear - a simple black shorts and one of Vincent’s t-shirts. Exhausted, stomach bloated with snacks; you feel like shit. Your body is seconds away from saying fuck it and crash down. 

And yet you’ve never felt so alive before. 

The time on your phone says it's 3.23 AM; you and Angel slough through the first two movies and now finally, the end credits for Eclipse roll down on the TV screen. Angel lives with their boyfriend - who was on a business trip, coincidentally - in a very homely apartment. When you first entered, you could tell just what sort of couple they are. 

The place looks as if a small tornado tried to turn the apartment upside down but was fended off just barely - little knick knacks such as rainbow beaded bracelets were carelessly thrown on the kitchen counter behind a microwave, a crop top with printed bongo cats floating within a glittered galaxy is drape over a dining chair, three heart-shaped balloons knock against one another from the living room’s ceiling and for some reason, the USB stereo is on the floor playing Black Pink’s Pretty Savage. 

The other half of the apartment - the more organised side - are filled with neatly shelved books of all genres, an untouched bowl of fruits are on the coffee table and most of the expensive-looking dishes and silverwares are displayed behind a glass cabinet. Those were probably gifts from family and friends. 

You spend an entire day here, engaging in stupid but fun conversations with Angel, painted each others’ nails and even shop online for the sluttiest outfit that you two could find just for the hell of it before binge-watching the entire Twilight series. 

Unlike you, however, Angel is buzzing around like a hyperactive bunny on crackhead energy. Halfway through New Moon, she busted out stacks of colourful sticky notes, some thumbtacks and a huge yarn ball. You watch with utter fascination as they begin to furiously write down every little thing about the Vampires and Werewolves representations from the movies to your and their boyfriend. 

It’s 3.25 AM now. The entire living room wall looks like an abstract form of an art piece, made of common stationeries. 

Hair in a messy bun, a stick of strawberry pocky dangling from their lips like a lit cigarette, a black sharpie in one hand and dressed in black cat onesie, Angel tapped on the piece of red sticky note that wrote ‘culture appropriation or nah?’

“So what have we learned so far?” 

“Vampires don't sparkle.” You immediately piped up and this time, cracked open a can of black coffee. A brand name from Japan, but the bitter tang immediately zolt your already fried nerves to maximum level. You love it. “Period.” 

“Noted! Now, does this make Stephenie Meyer racist!?” 

You actually had to pause and consider that. “Will need to get you back on that one.” 

Angel hurried to scribble ‘remind Lovely for feedback’ inside the same note. “Very well. We shall move on to the Werewolves.” They start to list down the characteristics of the Werewolves portrayed in the movies and then compare them to their boyfriend; but the thing is, they didn’t realise that they verbally list down the quirks of their Shifter lover instead. 

You find it cute that Angel rambled on and on about someone named Davey, so you didn’t interrupt them. Hell, you’d be the same with Vincent. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you got sidetracked from comparing your lovers to spilling the tea about your relationships. 

“After we first slept together, I said to Davey, “Thanks for the sex, bro” complete with a peace sign and a wink. He got so mad that he refused to let me off the bed until I promised to stay.” Angel laughs fondly. They tear open a bag of Cheetos Puffs and throw one into your open mouth. The two of you celebrate with a high-five. 

“Vince freaked out when I told him he was my first.” You chewed, swallowed and washed the after taste of the junk food with even more coffee. Who needs sleep when you could reach divinity with cans of Red Bulls, Kirin Fire coffees and junk foods. “He was extra sweet to me the next day as if he was trying to make up for how rough he was. You could totally see how precious he is from Pluto.” 

“That’s so cute!” Angel cooed. “You’ve landed the golden D, dude. Congrats.” 

“Sounds like you’re the same. To us!” 

You clink your can of coffee with Angel’s bottle of Mountain Dew. 

Eventually, the night made way to the rising sun and the final scene of Breaking Dawn came to a close. The living room is a total mess - blankets and pillows are strewn all over the floor, empty bags of chips, cans and bottles are underneath the coffee table and you swore that one rolled underneath the couch and the wall is still a sad, modern version of cubism with strings. 

“So…” You tilt your head to stare at a wide-eyed Angel, still buzzing with energy. “Want to play Mario Kart? Loser has to let the winner dress them for the day.” 

“You’re on! I hope you like crop tops” 

-

Vincent couldn’t stop bouncing his leg. The airport is bustling with people rushing for their early morning flights despite dawn barely peeking from the horizon. Like most of the humans around them, Vincent and Will are waiting for their boarding gate to open. 

Speaking of Will, he had wandered off to inquire about their time of arrival to one of the help counters somewhere near the vending machines that they passed. 

These past three days felt like three years without Lovely at his side. Vincent was an idiot to think that a few simple phone calls were enough to chase the yearning of his undead heart for his lover. His sweet and strong, Lovely. 

How are they right now? Judging from the different time zones, Vincent reckoned that it’s nearly midnight where the city of Dahlia is right now. Is Lovely getting ready for bed? What did they have for dinner? How was their day? 

An amused chuckle startled Vincent from his musing. “Oh Vincent, did your phone somehow insult you? You’ve been glaring at it for at least five minutes since I’ve returned.” 

“G-Geez! Don’t sneak up on me like that, old man.” Vincent mumbled, he nearly dropped his phone from his Sire’s sudden and silent appearance. 

“Apologies. Perhaps you should give them a call?” Will suggested as he took a seat beside him. He offers a warm, knowing smile at Vincent’s confused expression. “You wore a lovelorn expression when you stared at your phone. Do us both a favour and call your Lovely, hmm?” 

“...I shouldn’t. They’re probably sleeping - ”

“Maybe. Or maybe not. For all you know, they might still be up, waiting for you to call them.” 

Vincent gave in. He desperately needed to hear Lovely's voice. Besides, their sleepy whines are so adorable and he misses them terribly. 

Will occupied himself with a John Grisham book while Vincent pressed familiar numbers and held his phone up to his ear. Lovely answered in less than a minute. 

“Hey, Lovely.” Vincent greets, feeling the uneasiness and longing untangled themselves from his chest. He can’t wait to return home and have them in his arms again. The next time he has to go on a business trip again, he’ll bring Lovely along. If Will has a problem with it, he could take Alexis. “Sorry for calling you again so late at night. I… I just need to hear your voice again. Anyway, are you on the bed - ”

“Oh my god, did you just throw your underwear at me!?” 

“Uh, Lovely?” 

Vincent immediately pull the phone away when his ear is assaulted by a cacophony of K-pop music blaring in the background, accompanied by an obnoxious laugh of glee and Lovely’s mutterings of “That slut is going to get it now”, “300% sugar in your boba tea? Dude, just do cocaine instead!” and “Oh, Dilf alert! He has a French accent too? A solid 8/10 from me, definitely.” 

Beside him, Will snorts. He happily ignores the glare Vincent threw at him and flips a page. 

But for a brief, crazy moment, Vincent was struck with fear at the thought of his lover harbouring a secret crush on his Sire. He still remembers how freely Lovely blush and giggle whenever Will was around.

“Lovely? Is everything alright?” Vincent tries again, straining to hear through the music and someone’s chattering. Who is with his Lovely past midnight? He starts to worry and feel… a little uncomfortable. 

“Vincent? What’s up, baby? You don’t usually call me so late.” Lovely reply, sounding a bit distracted. Suddenly, Vincent heard a crash, followed by a, “It’s not broken! It’s all good!” 

“Where are you? What’s going on? Are you at a party?” Vincent didn’t demand, he inquired as firmly as possible. Flashes of his Lovely dancing at a club or hanging out with some faceless man and woman keep popping in his mind. It stirs his bloodlust. 

Will idly pat his hand to calm Vincent down, eyes still glued to his book. 

“I’m at home; had a friend over for the night. The apartment is just… too quiet without you.” 

Lovely’s easy and genuine admittance settled something feral inside of Vincent. He guessed that his lover and their friend must be having a sleepover. 

“I’m sorry that I had to leave, Lovely.” Vincent murmurs. “Will and I are at the airport right now. We should be boarding in thirty minutes.” Here, he paused and continued in a quieter tone, “I’ve missed you so much, Lovely. I’ve left my heart with you and… well, it’s just not the same without you.”

“See!? Prime example of a golden D there, Lovely!” Someone - Vincent assumed is his lover’s friend - shriek in the background. 

Their sudden shriek didn’t surprise him. What did, however, was another, stranger’s voice joining in their conversation. 

From a couple of seats, right in front of Vincent. Right here in the airport. 

“Don’t shriek into the phone, Angel! Are you trying to make me go deaf in one ear!?” 

The man - no, Shifter, grumbled. Vincent could smell the scent of lush forest and dirt around him; a Werewolf, then. But his nature wasn’t the reason why Vincent’s jaw is hanging open. 

Will, who had given up the pretence of reading his book, couldn’t hold himself back from grinning widely. He already connected the dots, unlike Vincent. “Oh my, isn’t that Alpha Shaw? He must be on a business trip as well! What a small world.” 

Luckily Vincent was clutching his phone tightly or not he would’ve dropped it in shock. Alpha Shaw? No way… David Shaw!? The Alpha of the Werewolf’s pack in Dahlia!? What the fuck - 

“Turn down the volume, Angel, before the neighbours call the police!” Lovely shouted back. 

In front of him, Vincent and Will watch the impressive scowl on David Shaw’s - the Werewolf King of Dahlia, himself - face. “Uh, excuse me? The fuck? It’s way past midnight, Angel. Where are you; who are you with?” 

“Looks like your lover made a new friend.” Will said in mock-whisper. Even though both of them knew full well that the Shifter wouldn’t be able to hear them from where they are in his human form. “I have a feeling that the Shaw pack and the Solaire clan will be closely in touch in the coming days.” 

Vincent shakes his head; truly, his Lovely is something else. Without hesitation, the Vampire Prince got up to introduce himself to the annoyed Werewolf. He didn’t take it personally when the Shifter shot him a glare for interrupting his phone call. If looks could kill, well, let’s just say that Vincent is thankful that being a Vampire means that he’s not about to be a Werewolf’s chew toy anytime soon. 

“Hi. I’m Vincent Solaire - yes, you heard that right - and before you ask, I’m pretty sure our lovers are currently hanging out at my place right now.” 

That got the Alpha to do a wonderful imitation of a statue. He wouldn’t look out of place at the Louvre, Vincent thought.

David exhales loudly - as if he damn close to being done with everything that this world has to offer - before addressing his lover on the other side of the phone. “The things you got yourself into, you damn troublemaker.” No doubt that David probably isn’t too keen to know that his mate is friends with a Vampire’s lover, but Will has a knack for turning enemies to allies; he’ll let his Sire deal with the politics once they get back to Dahlia. 

“You love me!” Angel smugly replied. “Oh and guess what? We binge watched the entire Twilight movie series and we got some questions!” 

“And uh, just a heads up.” Lovely’s voice hesitantly chimes through Vincent’s phone. “We haven’t slept since you guys left. I mean, I slept the day you left Vince, but, uh...” 

Vincent winces and politely ignores David’s flow of cursing under his breath. 

They left home for only three days, surely their apartments are still standing and their lovers aren’t drunk, high or planning to commit anarchy!

...Right? 

[booksforthegays]

“Resistance: A Novel of Aerdh” by B.R. Sanders

Description: Resistance has many faces, and one of them is Shandolin’s. When she finds her friend brutally murdered, Shandolin decides to fight instead of run–but her only hope of survival is a takeover of the City government. Shandolin draws everyone she loves into the fray with her: her assassin lover, Rivna; her mentor, Moshel; and her best friend, Kel. Apart, they are weak, but together Shandolin and her friends, lovers and fellows may be just strong enough to save their skins and the skins of the other elves in the City.

Representation: The main character is bisexual and has a female lover.

Genre: Fantasy Length: 174 TW(s): Some nudity

[notlumenera]

WHEN THE IMMORAL LEARN TO OPEN THEIR MOUTHS

(a jschlatt dream smp character study) word count: 1230 tw: canon death, alcohol, maniac

::

In the beginning, they flocked to him. The lonely, the lost, the ones who were neglected under Wilbur Soot. So Schlatt took them in and gave them a promise of making this country better, because he believed that he could. Fundy, the boy in his father’s shadow. Schlatt could empathize with him. He too had once been under Wilbur Soot’s shadow, and so had Quackity. Quackity, who came to him paranoid, and he used it. Schlatt whispered in his ear, filled his head with the truth about his so-called “glorious leaders”. Dictators, interested in nothing but power.

“See the truth, Quackity,” Schlatt had told him. “They’re only looking out for themselves.” And Quackity accepted, with a coalition government that would get him where he needed to be. It was up to the people now, but he knew that they would pull through, for the good of L’Manberg.

Schlatt2020.

It had a nice ring to it, he thought to himself. He declared his intent to the world, and the world responded.

::

The second he was given control of the L'Manberg, he acted without hesitation. His country was like a lettuce, and though he'd never been one for gardening, he’d spent time, watching, studying. He knew what he had to do, for the good of the country. He had to weed out the bad things for his garden could flourish, get rid of the bugs and the dead leaves still hanging on. He saw Wilbur for what he really was, saw Tommy for what he really was.

Wilbur Soot was a tyrannical madman, obsessed with the idea of L'Manberg. Not the people, the ideal. He was so far gone that he was only holding this country back, making it a fraction of what it could have been. TommyInnit was a broken 16 year old boy holding onto the fragile string of humanity and assured self confidence, something that would eventually get him killed. Schlatt looked into his eyes and saw it. Tommy had seen far too much at his young age, and that would scar him for the rest of his life, dictate the rest of his actions in the name of doing what was right, even to his own destruction. He was willing to fall for his ideals without hesitation, no matter where they led. Both Wilbur and Tommy were fighters, and would tear the country apart until it was no more, broken down to dust and history.

Schlatt was not a fighter. He knew this, knew it better than any other truth there was. Schlatt was a speaker, and wielded words better than he could ever wield a sword or a crossbow. But L’Manberg didn’t need a fighter. It needed someone like him.

As terrible as a person Wilbur Soot was, he had an ideal, but Schlatt was the one who had the means to carry it out. He took down the walls. He encouraged buildings to rise in their place. He was making the country better, and he knew it. Those who were too blind to see it were desperate to be led like sheep to slaughter, the sheep of Wilbur Soot. His cabinet knew the truth, and they ally with Schlatt, solidifying their power together.

Welcome to the new era, they whispered, the new era of peaceful democracy, something that would have never seen the light of day under Wilbur, Wilbur who only cared about power. Manberg. Just another change that would help him fashion this country into something great.

In the beginning, they welcomed him. They loved him, even, protecting him like they would have never done with Wilbur. A few well places sentences had the country eating out of the palm of his hand, but not everyone rejoiced at his takeover. Dissenters didn’t really matter, though. As Machiavelli once said, "It is better to be feared than loved."

Reverently adored, feared, loved--it was all the same to him. And none of it mattered when he was president, the emperor of Manberg.

He would not be another Wilbur Soot. He would not be another TommyInnit. They needed the country to survive, the country they built brick by brick, but the country--Manberg--didn’t need them. The country needed Schlatt, and only Schlatt would be their salvation.

::

In the end, however, none of that mattered. They looked at him and whisper murderer, alcoholic, addict. Not feared, not leader, and definitly not loved.

And thus, his time here was coming to a close. He could feel it.

::

The day L’Manberg ended was the day he died, in the drug van of all places. They’d come full circle. New L’Manberg was birthed from Schlatt’s death, in the very same place that L’Manberg was born. But that was getting ahead of the story.

They stood there, and they watched him take his last, shuddering breaths. In the end, no one lifted a finger as Schlatt died. He reached a hand out; they were still. There was no pity for him, no sympathy. Schlatt died alone, even though he was surrounded by everyone he knew.

Tubbo, his former right hand, the traitor, even after everything Schlatt had offered him. Quackity, the boy desperate for approval, who in reality, flitted from alliance to alliance, finding his place where he held the most power. Dream, the reluctant ally, and even Fundy, the abandoned son, who looked him in dead in the eyes and told him, “I thought you were something. Turns out, you’re nothing.”

You’re wrong, Schlatt wanted to tell them. All of you are willfully ignorant and wrong.

But no one would listen. All of them turned their back on him in his time of greatest need. His sole companions were the cigarettes in his one hand and the bottle in the other, bits of broken glass on underneath his shoes. Both he and Wilbur died that day, but only one of then went down in history as the villain. And it wasn’t Wilbur.

It was said that when you died, your whole life flashed before your eyes. As his heart stuttered on, he saw all of it—the beginning, all the way right up to the end, here. His head felt light while Young Wilbur Soot prattled in his ear. His eyes fluttered, heavy as the faces swam before his vision, of the first time he met TommyInnit, of the first time he’d ever stepped foot in the Dream SMP lands. He steadied himself on the ground as the Manburgians looked him in the eyes while he proclaimed the changes about to happen, changes that would be soon swept away with the return of the exiled. Pain seared his chest, and he closed his eyes for the last time.

Schlatt was not a fighter. He never was, never would be, preferring to use his words. They were sharper than any arrow from any bow. But in the end, it was those very words that were his downfall, slipping through the cracks of his carefully made armor, the facade of normalcy he’d built for himself. No one remembered that he was not the villain, just someone who was trying to make Manberg better.

He cared for the people, in his own way, but that's not how this story ended, not for him. No, his story ended in a grave, celebrated in death alone. People like him didn’t get happy endings.

Desecrated. Disgraced. Dead.

[dongiovannaswife]

Giorno’s Passione: elite subdivisions [unfinished archives / confidential information.]

Tagging @softlimefluff​ @alittlewhitetulip​ since they have asked about some of the members appearing along the takeover and fics! 

TW for mentions: medical stuff, religion stuff (catholic college specifically), explosions, masonry, mental control.

(references are highlighted with ♦)

Collaborator, ally.

Boccelli Enzo. Born stand user. His stand, Type O Negative, will show up representing every medical speciality. While he studied most of his life to become a doctor, he has had knowledge every since he was a kid. Type O Negative will perform and look over procedures, helping the patient recover faster with a high risk to sleep for entire days before they wake up completely healed. 

♦ Type O Negative. 

Unità speciale.

Leader: Vivianne Alma.

Members: Vivienne Alma, Marco Russo, Agosto “Westwood” Carvelli, [not available] [not available]  

Vivienne Alma. Born stand user. Every object, person or animal will be transported to the preferred user’s location once Chromatica has touched them Can’t teletransport to other countries or continents.

♦ Lady Gaga - CHROMATICA (2020). Vivienne Westwood, fashion designer. 

Marco Russo. Artificial stand user — former soldier. Painkiller will make everything explode once he thinks about it. 

♦ Painkiller by Judas Priest. The Psychopath, Borderlands. 

Westwood Carvelli. Artificial stand user. It is rumored that, when the arrow hit him, instead of awakening a stand, the soul of his beloved father came to him as his stand, guarding him as a shadow that crawls through the floor following him.  Hysteria will protect him and anyone whom he allows to stand on his shadow, which is, consequently, his stand. 

♦ Vivienne Westwood, fashion designer. Hysteria, Muse. Appearance: Kato from The Green Hornet (2011).

Squadra di Esecuzione.

Leader: Vittorio Ventura.

Members: Vittorio Ventura, Pietro Ventura  [not available]  [not available]  [not available]  [not available]  [not available]  [not available]  [not available]  [not available]  [not available]  [not available]  [not available]

Vittorio Ventura. Born stand user. His stand, Square Hammer, will manipulate to extract information from the victim with a single glance. It is rumored that it has the form of a dark Pope given Vittorio’s childhood, which he spent at a catholic conservatory. During the nights, he would hear the teachers conspire against the government and it awakened his need to know more. Rumored Mazon. 

♦ Square Hammer by Ghost. Ghost’s ideology. Papa Emeritus III.

Pietro Ventura. Artificial stand user. Vittorio Ventura’s husband. His stand, Monolith, will communicate with every living being and modify messages if needed. 

♦ Monolith by Crossfaith. 

[collapsedsquid]

One central motivation of the extremists has seemed so far-fetched and fantastical that for a long time the authorities and investigators did not take it seriously, even as it gained broader currency in far-right circles.

Neo-Nazi groups and other extremists call it Day X — a mythical moment when Germany’s social order collapses, requiring committed far-right extremists, in their telling, to save themselves and rescue the nation.

Today Day X preppers are drawing serious people with serious skills and ambition. Increasingly, the German authorities consider the scenario a pretext for domestic terrorism by far-right plotters or even for a takeover of the government.

“I fear we’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg,” said Dirk Friedriszik, a lawmaker in the northeastern state of Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, where Nordkreuz was founded. “It isn’t just the KSK. The real worry is: These cells are everywhere. In the army, in the police, in reservist units.”

[treeprince]

this dirk is the worst possible outcome for dirk that is "apparently inescapable" because of his godtier and I say fuck that.

OKAY, DOING THIS FOR THE SECOND TIME BECAUSE MOBILE ATE MY FIRST VERSION. get ready for a lot.

you’re right, this is the Worst possible version of a Dirk there could be, and that's why im not buying that its dirk from canon at all, and in fact, this can of wriggling earth noodles is about to bust wide the fuck open so bare with me for a sec, i am not entirely coherent and never have been or claimed to be otherwise so strap in bc im on mobile, tw for epilogue spoilers and a lotta bullshit (and mentions of suicide)

let me repeat myself: this is not our Dirk.

it’s a dirk, but it’s not the dirk. it’s a false dirk, a dirk facade for someone else, if you will. this dirk can’t be The Dirk because the rules governing the Ultimate Self don’t deal in inevitables, they deal in pure essence; the Ultimate Thingness of a thing. who or what defines that Thingness though? word of god? cultural signifier?

if you think it’s word of god, youd be wrong, and if you think its signifier, youd also still be wrong.

perception; perception defines thingness, perception defines self, perception defines truth. we are always perceiving, and always building biases based on those perceptions. we test and we test and we test those truths until we believe we have reached The Truth, but it will only always be A Truth. no one person can perceive of The Truth without bias, and thats been said a hundred different ways by a hundred different people who have lived before and will live after us.

toting this dirk to be the Ultimate and Inescapable Dirk is ultimately(lol) flawed, because this dirk is made of so many other characters- Hal, Bro, Caliborn, possibly even BGD- muddying the Dirk essence at it’s core. it therefore cannot be the Real Dirk that would make up his Ultimate Self. (same goes for rose and dave in this, too; those ascensions are more absolutes being presented as Truths, when they’re not. they’re ult dirk’s perception of rose and alt calliopes perception of dave)

we already have evidence that our dirk does not exist in this Ultimate Self because he is not struggling with these absolutes the way we know he would and does. his Ultimate Self is pure acceptance of his perception of what must be done to continue the propagation of Skaia across all time and space. and i dont think i have to tell you that the Real Dirk would never accept a version of reality wherein he vilifies himself to secure its continued existence at the expense of his relationships and their happiness, nor would be be okay with its dissemination of self through absence, i.e. cutting himself out of the picture in the candy plot so he can’t influence it’s outcome or change its course, which in turn just leads back to that ‘version’ of him being zipped right up into Ult Dirk. his suicide is not Just, by any means, that’s just more bullshit absolutes being spewed down like so much garbage from his Ult Self being mad that any dirk would relinquish control of the narrative.

i dont think id be alone in saying that our dirk would not be amenable to this version of himself, and in fact, would be pretty pissed to be erased from these events as they unfolded. sure the guy is afraid to exist, but he’s not afraid to not exist, or be “relevant”, like so many other Dirk splinters out there are, and his Ult Self is very much afraid of being “irrelevant”. hence, the takeover of the “plot”, the self-proclaimed Godhood, the wacky oocness of everyone as the story falls apart around the few people who can see what’s going on bc they still exist in canon.

but! this choice is all being presented to us by cherubs, who have only a basic understanding of human emotions, but dont know how they actually work, and their dichotomous nature is entirely at play here, delivering absolutes with impunity. inevitables have always been cherub bullshit, is what im saying, which is why im not ascribing any of this Ultimate Self to our dirk. it’s not his ultimate self at all, it’s the Least Self of a Dirk there could possibly be, shadows of shadows.

and thats why im not buying this whole “dirk will inevitably be a villainous bastard” bullshit. make of this as thou wilt, im fuckin off to work now where real life goes on and the actions of certain individuals have only strengthened my love for this character, seeking happiness where i can and providing courage to the ones who cant. 

yall can pry Dirk Strider’s character from my cold dead hands if youre brave enough, and im feelin p fuckin courageous in this chili’s tonight