#but i promised myself that i would put my health first in 2024 and that means only working the bare minimum needed to pay my bills for now

[dreamlogic]

2024 year of charlie gets a fucking break (hopefully. maybe. tbd.)

[red-riding-wood]

PSA - Community Predator

Over a series of months, myself and other Tumblr users -- fic writers, gif makers, fans of created content -- have been victimised by @mrkdvidal1989, who has extensively lied about who he is, preyed on multiple women and denied involvement -- therefore ruining friendships, reputations and feelings, and promised me life-saving medical treatment that he never followed through on.

More information including mine and their stories under the cut.

The reason I am going public with this is twofold:

A) To protect others from being hurt. He is known to reach out to many tumblr users, especially young women in the Cillian Murphy fandom -- but he may have a wider reach beyond this circle. B) Since his "disappearance" three weeks ago and the unravelling of his lies, this man has ruined my life and the only hope I had of obtaining treatment for a condition that has been plaguing me for four years.

Killian Vidal is the name he has chosen to give us, and has claimed to be both a officer commander and general in the mobility troop in the SAS (the general rank does not even exist), has beaten cancer a while ago (but said to another mutual that his "time was running out" and he is currently struggling with it), and a plethora of other life experiences and general knowledge about him that varies in consistency when talking to different people and is questionable in its validity. He has also shared pictures of "himself" that when reverse image searched, belong to different people.

I got to know Kill when he reblogged one of my fanfics (as the story seems to start with a lot of his victims) and he reached out via DMs. We quickly became close friends who called nearly every day on Discord and when I told him about my health issues, he immediately offered to pay for my medical treatment wherever I could find willing doctors.

I was hesitant to believe this at first since all of this seemed too good to be true (and was). He claimed to be very wealthy, enough to afford private jets like it was nothing and to rent me an apartment in the UK in the same building as him. Over time, I grew to trust him because he felt like such a genuine person and friend, which was made all the more believable by the fact that he has such a huge following on Tumblr and was, at the time, part of a vast social network of fans and friends (one of which he even claimed to know IRL -- who will remain anonymous unless they decide to speak out). I decided to ignore the little red flags because I was so desperate to receive this treatment that for me would be life-saving.

For four years, I have been plagued by an array of (mostly) undiagnosed digestive issues that have made my life almost unbearable and have on numerous occasions nearly killed me due to malnutrition. I've spent months in hospital, endured years of malpractice and misdiagnoses, undergone heart surgery, and have tried absolutely everything I can to get better. In the winter of 2023, I was told by my doctor that I was refused in the TPN program (a treatment that may have slowed or stopped my weight loss) and that with or without it, I was looking at mortality. Refusing to stop fighting but having exhausted the public health care system in Canada, I went into 2024 not really having much hope of anything anymore.

So, when Kill came along, that changed. He promised -- and I mean, from the bottom of his heart, promised -- that he would help me get treatment, that he would get me out of my abusive home and fly me to the UK, that he would be there for me as my friend, etc. I was beyond grateful, and as my trust with him built, so did my hope.

The travel plans kept getting put off; originally, he would fly me out as soon as the apartment became available, which was the 11th of Feb, 2024. He kept finding excuses to not book the jet. Finally, it seemed as if around the 15th/16th I would be flying. My health had been declining rapidly and the situation was becoming all the more urgent, and he said he was in contact with a pilot and would send the ticket soon and call me.

That was the last I heard from him. The 16th.

Initially thinking he had ended his life (he had discussed thoughts of suicide with me prior to this), I was beside myself with worry not only thinking one of my closest friends was gone but also that my chance at life was. I reached out to his other friends, and I made several calls to the UK authorities and emergency services and ended up requesting a welfare check be made to see if he was even alive.

They reported that no one under the name Killian Vidal was in the records of the building name he gave me -- the same building that I was meant to live in within that week.

After reaching out to my now beloved friend @kittenonpluto (A.K.A., Cas) on Tumblr, I learned that Kill was in fact alive, and had told her that he was in hospital for digestive issues in Indianopolis, United States (though again, no record of his name in their medical system). He still wouldn't talk to me, but told her to tell me that he would reach out when he was out of hospital.

Cas and I compared information he'd told us (her story will be attached to this post) and looked into the mystery more. He constantly dodged confrontation and questions about the fake photos and information he'd sent her, and seemed to use his completely fabricated hospitalisation as an excuse to not fulfil his promises to myself and her, as well as a means to garner sympathy.

It was quite obvious that he didn't know how the American medical system worked, and he even incorporated elements of my actual story and used them in his. When asked about his treatments, he responded with medically false information. He reported digestive issues, reflux, and having both an NG tube and TPN -- both of which I have experience with -- and let me say, I am beyond disgusted and infuriated that my real life trauma was used as a ploy in all this.

How do we know for a fact this is false? I checked the police case for his welfare check again, and they said that they confirmed him being in the UK at the same time he had told Cas he was in hospital in the States.

After a final confrontation from both Cas and myself (and a desperate final plea for the medical aid he promised me), he was never heard from again from either of us or our friend circles.

I'm now having to pick up the pieces he's left me in and to be honest, I have little to no idea of what the hell to do or how to save myself. The fact that he strung me along for a month and built up my hope that I was going to live only to abandon me without even a word is deplorable to me.

And mine isn't the only story. I've heard from four women on Tumblr (who, again, will remain anonymous unless they choose to speak out) who he has been romantic or sexually involved with (and lied about his involvement, made them out to seem insane or toxic, created rifts in our friendships, toyed with their emotions, and made false promises to of relationships, marriage, and finances).

And that's not including the ex-wife who came back to Tumblr to claim that her and Kill had never met nor married. She was promptly silenced by a "lawyer threat" that we have strong reason to believe was a bluff.

At the end of the day, there are so many lies, half-truths, inconsistencies, etc. this man has wrapped himself in and we don't know for the life of us what his motives are, but from the information that we do know is false, he isn't genuine. He toys with people. He hurts them. Myself and the others that have been affected by this want that to stop.

And at any point, he has the ability to make a new account, and take on a new persona, pretend to be someone else. Tumblr is a wonderful place and I have met so many cool people on here, but please be careful about who you interact with and what you share, because aside from making this post, it is beyond my power to stop him from doing what he does. But after what he did to me, I could not remain silent.

Other Stories

If you have an experience or story with Killian that you would like heard, please reblog it on this thread or make a post. With your consent, I can include a link to it below.

kittenonpluto's story

aurorag98's story

everyoneisawhore's story

your-nanas-house's story

hllywdwhre's story

Final Note

Lastly, if you have read this far, thank you.

If you want to reach out to me about this issue -- whether it's to anonymously share your experience, ask questions, ask for evidence (of which I can back up these statements with), or anything at all --, please do not hesitate to do so. <3

For those who may be worried about the potential legality of this post, everything that I have stated as fact is fact and it is not my intention to slander or spread false information.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I move into my own apartment for an internship instead of with friends like I initially said I (more likely than not) would for a while?

CW: kinda long but I don’t think I can put a readmore on anon :(

I (20sNB) have an opportunity to do an internship in spring of 2024. My friend (20sF) and her husband (20sM, we’re all within ~3yrs of each other) have been working on renovating a single-wide trailer in a trailer park in the same town as the internship, and it will be done with them living in it for at least a good few months before my internship. I’ve helped them with renovations whenever I’m in town and they’ve promised/shown me the room they’re reserving to be my space because they’re so sure I’ll move in with them.

I’ll be honest, I was planning to at first. But that changed with a variety of factors contributing, including but not limited to:

The trailer was reportedly full of black mold. Abandoned dressers would be opened and a puff of mold dust would emerge from the doors. It was also previously a hoarder’s house possibly due to the amount of junk in and around the trailer. Nobody wore PPE during renovations as far as I’m aware, and seem to believe they’re “in the clear” as they’ve shown no side effects yet. They’ve literally kept up only exactly what’s required to legally say they’re ‘renovating’ instead of tearing everything down and reusing the foundation, but it’s still a concern for me due to the casual way it was brought up and addressed.

My friends admitted that the neighbors don’t like them much due to the loud noises day in and day out from the renovation, resulting in the cops being called on them several times as a noise complaint. I have a rough time as it is being close to strangers, and that anxiety/paranoia? isn’t alleviated by hearing that and seeing people come out of their own trailers to glare at us whenever we work on the property.

My cat (20F) would be moving in with me. She’s indoor-only, but cats are bound to run around at some point. There are numerous unvaccinated and unfixed strays in the park and I’m concerned for her health; she’s having a hard enough time just keeping down food, a virus or infection would make me put her down.

My friends own a Pomeranian that does not respect other animals and continuously harasses them by barking and chasing after them. My cat does NOT like dogs, and my repeated warnings that having them in the same room would result in the dog getting blinded and possibly even more severely injured have been waved away with “The dog will learn soon enough to leave her alone!”. I would also have two relatively small lizards with me, both of whom leave their terrariums regularly for general holding sessions and to run around while I clean their tanks. There is a nonzero chance of them being beyond the safety of the glass and the dog eating them as the dog has a high prey drive.

Being with them would save me and my parents MASSIVE amount of money as rent is nearly nonexistent with how low it is in the park; I would mostly help with other bills (such as water, electricity, groceries) and general housemate things like cleaning up after myself and helping cook or chip in for takeout every now and then. Both friends know how restricted my ability to really develop is in my house due to my family (such as not knowing how to make anything more complicated than air fryer food) and have expressed that they are eager to help me learn and watch me grow into who I am.

But for a while I’ve been very strongly leaning towards an apartment instead despite rent being crazy (my parents are willing to pay half but with 0 guarantee of a paid internship and uncertainty as to whether I can hold a part-time job at the same time it would still be a blow to my savings). It’s gotten to the point where my language is full of “My future apartment will have….” “When I move into an apartment do you think I should….” when discussing the matter with my parents with zero verbal room for considering living with my friends. Advantages to the apartment include having my own space, being much closer to my internship location (though my friends weren’t all that far out themselves), and no concerns about my pets being around strangers or other animals. My parents and grandma agree that an apartment sounds the safest for my pets’ physical health and my mental health.

However, I have yet to tell my friends. The F is a friend of a decade now, and the M and I aren’t exactly close but regard each other as siblings. While she might be hurt but understanding, I don’t know if I want to risk him or both of them blowing up on me for my decision after at least 6mo of helping here and there and encouraging them to finish renovating their own place. The closest I’ve gotten to saying anything is warning them that it isn’t guaranteed I’ll move in with them when they use language suggesting it is and that I’m trying to keep my mind open to all housing options, including renting a space in a family friend’s basement. Neither of them seem to have caught on to what I’m doing, though. So, WIBTA if I finally break it to them that I’ve decided on an apartment and move into a space without them? This might seem like a non-issue to outsiders but it very much is to me :(

(For slight additional context: my friend is typically very understanding and we do our best to communicate our feelings about joint activities especially. Her husband is the type of guy to get mad at the ‘politics’ of the new Barbie movie and the joke made out of the Kens.)

What are these acronyms?

[vicekillx]

UPDATE: 2024

Usually I make these kinds of post around New Years, but this year I didn't really have anything to say. But now we're a month in and I definitely do.

I feel…different, this year. In a good way, I think. I feel like I'm tired of being complacent and riding coattails. This month has been a whirlwind of getting my shit in line. So far I:

handled two serious family crises smoothly and picked myself back up quickly from both

called my health insurance (phone calls have historically been an hours-long meltdown-inducing debacle for me) twice to switch my PCP because the previous one was consistently booked 3-6 months out and she just forgot to mention the inhaler I pulled out of my bag to show her at my first appointment so I couldn't get a refill on it or my nebulizer when I had COVID; that's been getting put off since August of last year

made an appointment with said new PCP for Feb 1, and I'm hoping they'll be able to refer me to a dentist and optometrist because I desperately need both

got back into therapy with an autism/ADHD specialist who can help me manage those specifically after my previous therapist didn't understand why I couldn't just Do It™; also have assessments lined up for both to get diagnoses

pay more attention to my health in general, including diet and exercise. I'm already down about 10 lb

restructured my planner to include a mood tracker and sleep tracker, and have been better about staying on top of it

got Trello up and running and so far it's working really well for me

have been doing my house chores more consistently, namely cleaning litter boxes and taking care of my snakes and tarantulas (roommates have been picking up my slack but they shouldn't have to, they're my animals)

am able to work more consistently on my designated work days; before it was a lot of chipping away and putting things off rather than sitting down and making actually decent progress

am finally starting a tattoo sleeve I've wanted for a very, very long time as a belated birthday gift to myself

am consistently filling stream sketch slots, which means I can actually make money and pay my bills on-time (and a huge, huge thank you to everyone who signs up, I'm pretty sure this is the primary reason I've been able to pull myself out of the hole. Financial stability is a hell of a drug)

This year I wanna try really hard to keep the train moving along this track. If things keep going the way they are, I could potentially make some pretty big changes in the not so distant future. Some things I'm brainstorming:

UnholyFans

merch other than stickers (seriously I have so many designs in mind, I just haven't had the drive to work on them or the upfront capital to order inventory)

more monster/demon adoptables

I would really like to collab with some other artists, it's been too fuckin long

website restructure

picking up my side business (I did literally zero pieces for it last year oof), ideally with a rebrand

get back into conventions and try some new crowds: reptile/exotic expos, tattoo conventions, oddities expos, sex conventions, BDSM groups…

push the stream setup to be more professional

rekindling the spark for my personal stories and headworld projects

more I have written down somewhere but can't think of off the top of my head

And to be clear, I'm optimistic, but also a realist. I know from experience that shit changes and I could hit a massive depressive slump in a month or two and be back to where I was for most of last year. I'm still not going to promise anything I'm not confident I can deliver. However, that doesn't mean I shouldn't try.

I already got sidetracked with this post, so I'm gonna make a second to get to my original point and I'll come back and add a link to this one when I do. But suffice to say I want to try - again - to breathe some kind of life back into my SubscribeStar. I have some ideas in mind, but I want to hear yall's opinions on it too.

Watch this space ♥

[hexfloog]

Re: 2024 Dental Fundraiser (closed on 02/10/24)

Update below the break!

First and foremost... thank you all so very, very much for your generosity ;^; <3 Between ko.fi, commissions, and selling collectibles I managed to get pretty close to my overall funding goal!! There are simply not enough words in the world to describe how deeply grateful I am for your kindness and support.  It helped so much.  It stung to hand over so much money at once but it would have stung even more if more of it was borrowed.

So the big appointment was yesterday. I really don't remember much, lol, which is what was promised. Around 8 AM they gave me three pills, put a blanket on and told me to relax, let me know a few minutes later they were going to start the work, and then... it was 1 PM, five hours later.  There was still about another hour's worth of work after that for a different procedure, for which I was awake and aware. I guess the sedation meds were starting to wear off, but they were still pretty potent; as I write this I still feel a bit off and will probably spend the rest of the day coming down from them.��

I have a follow-up appointment scheduled for tomorrow. It shouldn't cost me anything.  And even if it did, you really couldn't make me worry about it; I'm sore today, but only on account of the cuts on the corners of my mouth and my jaws having been open for upwards of six hours - this morning I had pancakes for breakfast and they went down painlessly!!  It feels like forever since I've been able to eat anything (let alone something sweet) without having to worry about pain!!!  I'm so glad...

I suppose my only hope is that I don't get ambushed by surprise bad news at the follow-up.  If there's anything to tell me, they probably wouldn't have told me yesterday while I was still in a drug-induced stupor, right?  I am admittedly still a little worried I will be told I need additional work, but at least from a financial perspective, I will know what to do.  (It won't be another fundraiser-- that's not fair to you and we all--including myself--only have so much to offer)

Speaking of the fundraiser, a small update there:

My shops (Etsy/Mercari/eBay) are temporarily closed, but will re-open sometime next week. I will not be retracting anything that wasn't sold before the end of the fundraiser, any funds received goin forward will go towards rebuilding my emergency health fund

My ko.fi is generally used as a tip jar year-round and so will remain open - any donations received going forward will also go towards rebuilding my emergency health fund (the goal has been updated to reflect this)

Commissions received before the end of the fundraiser will be posted as they are completed. Even if I get a little slow I will always try to communicate progress (no matter how minimal) and the delay, if I get quiet please feel free to reach out to me!!

??? I didn't actually receive any print orders during the fundraising period so uhhh I'm thinking about how to approach this lol. I did say extras would be posted for sale after the fact, but I can't have extras if I don't have regular stock?

Anyway thanks so much again for your kindness <3 I really am so lucky to be supported by so many compassionate people.  I still have to be careful with what I eat but being able to do something as simple as drink water without having to microwave it first is such a weight off my mind. 

Take care of yourself and be well!!

[chorusfm]

Liner Notes (November 23rd, 2024)

I guess it’s been a little bit, huh? We may have a lot to talk about. This week’s supporter Q&A post can be found here. If you’d like this newsletter delivered to your inbox each week (it’s free and available to everyone), you can sign up here. A Few Things * I remember listening to a podcast with CGP Grey where he talked about the “Four Lightbulbs,” the reductive version was that in life you have four areas that you’re constantly balancing: family, friends, health, and work. And sometimes, you need to turn down the light on one to be able to focus on the others. When I published the last issue of the newsletter on June 15th, I did not know I’d be turning down my work/newsletter lightbulb for a little bit, but circumstances demanded it—first, a little background. For the last twelve years I’ve lived in downtown Portland. I moved during a massive transitional period, and it was one of the best decisions I ever made. It’s where I re-discovered myself. It’s where I grew into an actual adult. It’s where I met my now wife, Hannah, and we began our life together. However, it was a two-bedroom condo with one bedroom as my office. As time went on it became clear we would need more space. Not just space for all our things but space to live, grow, and think about the rest of our lives together. A bathroom with one sink gets old after six years. My office closet doubling as pantry overflow can only be sustained for so long. We’d been talking about moving for a while, and this summer, the talks moved from theoretical to, “ok, let’s see what this would look like.” And thus began the “life lightbulb” maneuvering. To prepare to move my life of the last twelve years, let alone maintain healthy relationships, a real-life job, and my mental health, I needed to pull back somewhere. I decided to repurpose the time on the weekend that had been dedicated to prepping for and writing this newsletter to be “moving stuff” time. And oh boy was it needed. Remind me never to move again. I’d really, really, really love for this to be the last time. Moving is stressful. Moving is extremely taxing. Moving at 41 does different things to your body than when you’re 29. And the amount of mental tension that trying to sell your home while negotiating the purchase of another does to the brain is borderline maddening. But, after months of preparation, the stars aligned, and we had an offer on the condo the same weekend we saw a house we truly thought could be our dream home. An offer was made. And then the real fun begins. The closing process on both made me feel like my insides were being thrown through hell’s rollercoaster. But, we came out the other side. We moved on September 7th and have spent the past few months trying to settle in. Put together furniture. Re-decorate the home. Order more furniture. Realize that having the (wished upon) more space means we have more rooms to fill. But it’s all been worth it. And now, today, I feel settled back into a spot where I can sit down and write and not feel a nagging burn in my head that I should be doing something else. I can’t promise I’ll be back to an every-week schedule, but I will be writing more (and working on the website more) when it fits into the new routines we’re discovering. Moving from the city to the suburbs (and yes, literally to the burbs I wanted to run away from as an angsty pop-punk teen) has led to a learning period for what used to be simple things. The grocery store now means a car ride. But now we have space to store Costco sized purchases. It’s all about tradeoffs. And I’ve got to let myself find the right tradeoffs in the future for when I feel the pull to work on something on the house, or when I want to sit down and get lost in writing. It’ll be a work in progress, but damn have I missed writing. * I expect there to be a lot of “home” stuff to write about in the coming months, because I’ve been having a whole lot of fun re-doing my office (a good excuse for a new blog post), setting up new home… https://chorus.fm/features/articles/liner-notes-november-23rd-2024/

[itsrebaby22]

I thank God for not allowing things to turn out the way I prayed they would a year ago, or how I prayed things to go even as recent as six months ago. & yes they were both different pleas from my heart. I am gracious that He spoke a word over my life and even through my impatience, ignorance, disobedience, and open displeasure with how He was leading me on my journey through the wilderness— God never left my side. His spirit was always closer than I could ever truly understand. Much like the people of Israel who were following Moses through the unknown, away from slavery and towards the promised land— I cried, complained, compared my present to the past, wanted to go back, and even took for granted the provision that He had given to me. I am not saying that I am out of the woods by any means, but I know that I am getting close. I see the beauty in this new thing that God is doing in my life, even though I truly have no idea what He has in store for me, I know one thing about my God and it is that He is able to do far beyond all that I could ask or imagine by His power at work within me.

I can see how I have grown, how I have healed, how I have changed. Yes, I slipped and stumbled a few times and the grace of God protected me. I haven’t missed a meal. I’ve had a bed to sleep in every single night. I have been able to pay bills on time. My health is the best it’s been in years. I have finally been able to use this time and space to heal the wounds I hid so deep within myself with the help of my own meditations, therapy, and most of all the Holy Spirit. I have forgiven what others have done to me, what I have done to others, and what I have done to myself. I am free.

I have made major progress in my own career path by continuing to prioritize my education, and perfecting the job I already have. I’ve been able to remember who I was before I gave my life away, and I have been dedicated to refining myself. I have hobbies I never thought I’d love, I have so many interests that I have been using to make new friends. I have even rekindled with old friends who haven’t heard from me in YEARS prior to this past year of preparation.

That is what I declared the year 2024 to be, the year of preparation. On January 1st 2024 at 12:00am, sitting under the moon and stars watching the fireworks my neighbors sent into the sky slice through the clouds— that is the only word I felt the spirit put on my tongue. With tears in my eyes, and my heart in my hands, it was never more true to me that 2024 was going to be the loneliest year I was going to experience for the first time in a long time, but that was okay with me. It was that moment that I realized that God prepares us in isolation, so I was ok with it. I agreed with Him in that moment, I said as long as I am being prepared for what He had for in store me next and that He stayed with me that it was good and I would be okay.

Spoiler alert: I am better than okay. I am prepared. Thank you, Jesus. I am prepared for what He is calling me into next. Above all else, I am grateful and I am blessed.

The end of this year is quickly approaching and I have been thinking about what to declare over this upcoming year. Yes, I have a few ideas of my own so far but I’d like to make sure it is what God is speaking to me. I already feel that the year of 2025 is going to have a lot of newness for me thanks to all the preparation that I have been undergoing lately and that excites me beyond measure truly. Restoration? Redemption? Action? I have a few more months to figure it out, so I’ll be back with my declaration. Hallelujah.

[run-sam-run]

Introduction to this Blog

So first and foremost, I thought it would be a good idea to start with what exactly I plan to do with this blog and what it really means.

Over the course of my life I've struggled with being overweight and managing that weight in a sustainable and healthy manner. Sometime in college I decided to start to make systematic changes after hitting an all-time high weight of about 250lbs. I was feeling self-conscious, uncomfortable and out of shape constantly, and I wanted to change that.

It started when I had studied abroad in Paris for a semester, I was eating cleaner whole foods, I was walking constantly, and spent most of my day exploring the city on foot. I came home about 25lbs lighter out of the gate! I decided from there on to start focusing on sustainable diet changes, steering away from 1,000 calorie deficits, extreme diets, aggressive workouts that promised six packs in three months, and the likes. I instead focused on making incremental changes to my activity level and nutrition. The results were great, I had wittled my way down to 205lbs over the course of a year or so, and had used long-distance running as my primary tool to get there. I had signed up for a couch to 5k program, and over the course of the weeks I trained, I had developed a cardiovascular endurance that allowed me to run 5 kilometers non-stop ever since.

While the weight came off over time, it came back quickly. Through relaxed 'maintenance' eating and periodic pauses in my exercise routine, I ended up putting a lot of the weight back on, hitting 230lbs at the end of 2023. I was frustrated with my inability to keep off the weight, and angry with myself for losing sight of what I wanted. This lead to me creating some very focused goals for 2024, and with it, some accountability measures. First I downloaded a productivity app to help manage daily goals that help me to keep true to my long-term goals, next I developed a daily calorie goal to ensure I was losing weight from a calorie consumption perspective, and lastly I developed a workout plan to coincide with my fitness goals for the year.

My health and fitness goals for the year were pretty simple, I wanted to run a sub 22 minute 5k, I was going to lose 30 lbs, and lastly I wanted to cut down on the amount of alcohol I drank.

It's been about a month and a half of the new year and I'm already seeing a lot of success on these fronts, but I did notice a dip in productivity and motivation in mid-February that resulted in some falling back on my goals. In an attempt to keep myself more productive and in line with goals I've decided to create a small blog to track my goals for the year, see progress from week to week, and just make it a habit to touch base a couple of times a week or more to just observe the past few days or weeks and see where I'm finding victories, failures and the likes.

This blog isn't meant to become big, popular, or famous, but rather to act as a diary that is open to the world so that, in the event people do start to follow it, I have a higher level of accountability than if I just jot down in my own journal. If you're reading this and following along with me on my journey, I'd like to thank you for joining me, and hopefully I inspire you to make some positive changes in your life going forward.

[n0resistance]

2024

  It took me a few years to get to the point where I am as an adult 30 something living in New York. I finally live in a comfortable space and it has character for sure. Living in Queens makes me feel separate from the exhausting over productive city that I call home. I made my priorities minimal, and one thing I’ve been working on since 2022 is healing and understanding my emotions as well as past trauma.

I have always been constantly triggered, anxious, borderline depressed. What’s weird about depression is nobody can tell that you have it, especially for me. How can you be depressed when you travel all the time, how can you be depressed when you have an amazing relationship, and you’re social. You’re the one who doesn’t care about what people think about you. 

    Well; sometimes when we seem really happy the reality is we’re putting up a front. I was experiencing a ton of grief, grief of not being the way it once was, people changing, losing my grandfather and my dog. I’m still grieving it. Before, I made pretty good money but it felt abusive and I hated what I was doing. Which I would promise myself that I would never compromise my well being for money. It was a situation where I made a lot and also had the freedom to pursue the arts. However, I was neglecting my higher purpose. You feel that your purpose isn’t to just get through it and to soothe yourself later because you can afford it. 

   Traveling ends and you need a life outside your relationship. You need friends, work that matters, hobbies, and things that fulfill you. You need to feel good on your own or else you lose all balance. Balance isn’t really what society tells you it is. 

   I’ve achieved it at this moment, and am trying to maintain it. My partner and I live a lone finally (ha) in a neighborhood and place we enjoy, I’m not attached to my work, I cut out working full time and currently work a-few jobs. I have to be really on top of my schedule since I don’t work from home at all. This way I’m helping people with skill sets that took me years to hone. It’s led to make more money, spend less time on it, and help more people. So win/win. My motivation is to be autonomous, so I can create time to take care of myself, make art, work on my health, and spend time with loved ones. I’m not in enormous amounts of stress, finally. Never knew it was possible in New York City. 

   Now I’m dealing with the discomfort of calmness.  After always being used to chaos, drama, and even tragedy. This Christmas was a very calm one. I dogsat, my partner had to work at the hospital, he sacrifices so much for work. We just focus on each other, gave each other gifts. It was like a staycation with work. That was it. We also got to see friends in Ridgewood which was really really cute before going back home. It was an alternative holiday. There was katonah yoga, brunch at Russ & Daugthers, city views, dogs, only tourists on the streets and Christmas cheer. I didn’t want to spend another Christmas apart from my boyfriend so I had to make it worthwhile. This was a way to be together. 

    Holidays are triggering. I have a lot of memories with my mom especially because she loved Christmas so much. So even though I’m not used to this, I’m trying to get comfortable in simple and calmness. I just feel old enough to know that everything will work out and things will change. It’s important to adapt and flow. 

     This was my year of relaxing. It took so much to get a comfortable place to live, it took so much to not actively hate work, it took so much to find the love of my life. I’m living as best as I can by prioritizing. Everything else is just extra. The new project, event, trip, course that I’ll be taking. It’s just extra but before it was sustenance to my survival. Mainly because I didn’t know how to figure it out. I didn’t know how to say no or put myself first. 

    My experiences of finding yoga again, going to a comedy class, doing a play, creating an event, and not allow negative vibes take over was a lot of action and mindfulness. Pursuing those things have saved my life in one way or another.

   Before I was jumping from 1 unhealthy thing to another. Now, each thing I do is healthy with a healthy amount of it. I have a lot of resolutions this year that I want to incorporate in my lifestyIe. To be frugal, give up vices, Stop judging people, I want to eat well and read well, be around only good energy. I want to be a minimalist for real, and this the first real year where I don’t feel like my life is just me. I also have to adapt to my partner too, where his future takes him affects me, and also know what it is I want too. 

    To 2024, I’ll be turning 33 soon. I finally feel like a grown up. I just want to act like it now. 

[drinkthemlock]

NIGHT AT THE TAVERN

III - BERTRAM

Here is the chapter following Solfieri's.

Text by Álvares de Azevedo, translation my own. TW: this chapter contains murder, infanticide, gore and anthropophagy.

[revised July 2024]

III

BERTRAM

But why should I for others groan,

When none will sigh for me?

BYRON - “Childe Harold, Canto I"

Another comrade rose.

A red head, pale skin, one of those phlegmatic creatures that didn't hesitate when they stumbled upon a corpse to achieve an end.

He emptied his wine-filled glass and, with his beard in his pale hands, with those sea-green eyes fixed, he spoke:

“You know, a woman led me to doom. It was she who burned my temple in the orgies, and discolored my lips in the ardor of wine and in the softness of her kisses, who made me debauch myself, livid in the long nights of insomnia at the gambling tables, and in the earnestness of the tortured hugs with which she pressed me to her chest! It was she, as you know, who made me in one day have three duels with my three best friends, open three graves for those who loved me most in the world— and afterwards, feel myself alone and abandoned in the world, like the infanticide who killed his son, or that unhappy Moor next to his pale Desdemona! 

Very well, I’ll tell you a story that begins with the memory of that woman… 

There was in Cadiz a damsel— so beautiful with that dark hair of the Andalusians, such that one cannot look at them beneath the fringes of the satin mantillas with their delicate feet, their alabaster hands, their shiny eyes and their lips, pink like Gallic roses, without going mad with dreams of them through long ardent nights! 

Andalusians! You are most beautiful! If the wine, the nights of your land, the moonlight of your nights, your flowers, your perfumes are sweet, pure, intoxicating, you are more still! Oh! Throughout the defilement of a fiery life's row of pleasures, I could never forget thee!

Gentlemen! We have here the wine of Spain, fill the glasses: — to the health of Spanish ladies! 

-

I loved this girl dearly, she was called Ângela. When I was decided to marry her, after so many nights wasted out in the open waiting for the shadow of a wave, an adieu, a flower, when after so much desire and so much hope I stole her our first kiss, I had to leave Spain for Denmark, where my father was asking for me. 

That night was one of sobs and tears, of cries and hopes, of kisses and promises, of love, of voluptuousness in the present and dreams in the future… I left. I would only return two years later. When I entered my father’s home, he was dying; he knelt in his sickbed and thanked God for still seeing me, put his hands on my head, showered my temple with tears – those were his last – then let himself fall back, put his hands on his chest, and with his eyes on me he mumbled: ‘God!’

His voice was choked in his throat; all were crying. 

I cried too, but it was for missing Ângela…

As soon as I could reduce my fortune to money I put it in the Hamburg bank and left for Spain. 

When I got back, Ângela was married with a son… 

Though my love hadn’t died! Nor had hers! Very ardent were those hours of love and tears, of longing and kisses, of dreams and curses, were we to forget one another. 

-

One night, two figures appeared in the shadows of a garden, the leaves trembled at the flutter of a dress, the breeze sobbed at the sobs of two lovers, the aroma of the violets that they trod on and of the roses and honeysuckles that bloomed around them were even sweeter, lost in the perfume of a woman’s loose hair…  

That night— it was insane! The hours were few and the dreams fiery! And how quickly they passed! After that night another followed, then another… and on many nights the leaves whispered at the brush of a mysterious step and the wind was intoxicated with the delight on our pale faces… 

But one day the husband found out everything: he wanted to play Othello with her. Madman...

It was late into the night: I waited to see from behind the curtains the shadow of the angel. When I passed by, a voice called me. I entered— Ângela, with her feet bare, her dress loose, her hair disheveled and her eyes ardent, took me by the hand… I felt her hand wet… The stairs we climbed were dark; I brushed my hand, wetted by hers, against my lips. It tasted of blood. 

‘Blood, Ângela! Whose blood is this?’

The Spaniard shook her long dark hair and chuckled. 

We entered a room. She went to fetch a light and left me in the dark. 

I looked, feeling around, for a place to sit. I touched a table. But after touching it I felt it was bathed in wetness; further ahead I felt a head, cold as snow and wet with a thick and slightly clotted liquid. It was blood… 

When Ângela came back with the light, I saw it… it was horrible… The husband had his throat cut.

It was like a gesso statue washed with blood… Over the chest of the murdered man there was a child lying on their belly. She pulled them up by the hair… They were dead too; the blood that flowed from the slashed veins of their chest mixed with their father’s! 

‘Do you see, Bertram, this was my gift: it now shall be, though dark, a figure of my past. I am yours and yours only. It was because of you that I had enough strength for such a crime… Come, all is ready, let’s run away! To us, the future!’

-

It was an insane life of mine with that woman! An endless traveling. Ângela dressed as a man: she looked like a beautiful youth in that manner. At all else she was like every young libertine that clinked glasses with her at the orgy tables. She drank like an Englishwoman, smoked like a Sultana, rode horses like an Arab, and shot guns like a Spaniard. 

When the vapors of liquor hurt my head, she’d lay it on her knees, pick up a mandolin and sing me the songs of her homeland…

Our days were set to sleep like pearls of love; our nights were truly beautiful! 

-

One day she left; left, but left me with my lips still burning of hers and my heart filled with the ill vices that she cast there. She left; but her memory stuck with me like the ghost of a fallen angel at my bedside. 

I tried to forget her in gambling, in liquor, in the passion of duels. I became a cheater at cards, a man lost in women and orgies, a terrifying and heartless swordsman. 

-

One night I’d fallen, drunk, at the gates of a palace; a carriage's horses trampled me when entering and split my head on the cobblestone. The people in the palace came to my aid. Then they grew to love me: the family was an old widowed nobleman and a peregrine beauty of eighteen years. It certainly wasn’t love that I felt for her… I don’t know what it was… it was an infernal fatality. The poor innocent girl loved me; and I, received like God’s guest under the roof of the old nobleman, dishonored his daughter, stole her, ran away with her… And the old man had to regret his stained silvery hair at the dishonor of his daughter, unable to seek revenge. 

Later I grew tired of that woman. Satiety is a terrible bore. One night in which I played with Siegfried, the pirate, after losing her last jewels, I sold her. 

The girl poisoned Siegfried on the very first night, then drowned herself… 

-

See, this is who I am: if you wished me to tell you long stories of my life, you would fall asleep in no time… 

One day— it was in Italy— satisfied of wine and women, I was going to kill myself. The night was dark and I barely reached the beach. I climbed a rock: there my last word was a blasphemy, my last goodbye a curse, my last… I say it wrongly, since I felt myself being pulled out of the water by the hair.

And then, in the blur of drowning, the yearning for life awoke inside me. At first it was like blindness, a cloud before my eyes, like of those who toil in the dark. The thirst for life came ardently; I grabbed the man who helped me; did it so that, in a word, without wishing it, I killed him. Tired from the struggle, I fainted...

When I regained my senses I was in the rowboat of some mariners who rowed towards the open sea. Then I found out my savior had drowned because of me. He was a fatality, and black; and for that I laughed; laughed, while then sons of the sea wept. 

We reached a sloop that was weighing anchor. 

The captain was a beautiful man. Down his reddened face fell curly blonde locks on which old age had sprinkled some silver hairs. 

He asked me:

‘Who are you?’

‘A wretch that cannot live on land and wasn’t allowed to die at sea.’

‘Do you want to come aboard then?’

‘Unless you'd rather throw me into the sea.’

‘I wouldn’t do it; you have a beautiful figure. I’ll take you with me. You’ll work…’

‘Work?!’ I laughed; then answered him coldly: ‘Let me be thrown into the sea…’

‘Do you not want to work? Do you want to travel idly then?’

‘No; when it's time for maneuvers I’ll sleep, but when time for combat comes no one will be braver than I…’

‘Very well: I like you,’ said the old sea-wolf. ‘Now that we are acquainted, tell me your name and your story.’

‘My name is Bertram. My story? Listen: the past is a grave! Ask the sepulcher the story of the corpse! It keeps its secret… it will tell you only that it has a rotting body in its bosom! You’ll read a name on the stone— and nothing more!’

The captain furrowed his brows, and went forward to command the maneuver. 

The captain had a pretty girl on board. Pale creature, she looked to the poet like the angel of hope falling asleep forgotten amongst the waves. The sailors respected her: when during the moonlit nights she rested her arm on the bulwark and her face in her hand, those who passed by her removed their hats in reverence. Never had anyone seen looks of pride from her, nor heard words of anger: she was a saint. 

She was the captain’s wife. 

Between that brutal and valiant man, courageous king of the high seas, married, like the Venetian Doges to the Adriatic, to his adorned sloop— between that man and that madonna there was a man’s love which palpitates the heart that for long nights opened only to the moons of the lonely ocean, that fell asleep thinking of her in the cold of the arctic and in the warmth of the tropics, that sighed during the watch, late in the night at the ship’s railing, that remembered her on the late night fog, on the afternoon clouds… Poor madmen! Looks like these men love deeply! On board I heard many sailors going on about their ingenuous loves: blonde girls from Brittany and Normandy or some dark-haired Spanish woman seen while passing by— sitting at the beach with her basket of flowers, or asleep amongst the fragrant orange trees, or dancing the lewd fandango at the outdoor dances! There were... many faces alongside me, rough and burned with the sea’s sun, that were bathed in tears… 

Let's come back to the story. —The captain loved her like a madman... a little less than his honor, a little more than his sloop. 

And she?! She, in the midst of her melancholy, of her sadness and pallor, she smiled sometimes, when she was alone, but it was such a sad smile that it hurt. Poor thing! 

A poet would worship her on his knees[1]. One night— for sure I was drunk— I wrote her some verses. In languorous poetry I spilled a clear and precious essence that hadn’t yet been polluted by the world…

I’ll admit I cried while writing those verses. One day, months later, I read them, laughed at them and at myself and then tossed them into the sea… it was the last page of my virginity that I hurled into oblivion… 

Now, fill thy glasses: what I’m about to tell you is dark, and a horrible memory, like nightmares in the Ocean. 

With her tears, with her smiles, with her wet eyes and breasts heaving with sighs, that woman made my nights maddening. It was like a new life being born filled with desires, when I’d believed all them dead like children drowned in blood at birth. 

I loved her: why should I say more? She loved me too. One night the light shone clear and serene onto the waters, the clouds were white like a veil embroidered with night’s pearls, the wind sang in the rigging. I drank her in the purity of this moonlight, to the freshness of this night, a thousand kisses upon her face wet with tears, as one drinks the dew of a full lily. That palpitating breast, the silky outline, I pressed them against me… 

The captain slept. 

-

One time as the night fell the foretopman sighted a ship. Half an hour later he suspected it was a pirate…

We got closer and closer. A warning shot fired from the sloop called for their flag. They did not answer. A second shot was fired: nothing. And then a cannon ball fell in the waters around the unknown ship like a duel’s glove. The ship, that until then had followed a route opposite to ours and came with its bow against ours, turned to the side and showed us its smoky flank; a thunder raged in the pirate’s battery, a blast followed, and a cloud of shot came to die close to the sloop. 

She was not asleep, turned to starboard; the ships were side to side. The pirate trembled at the warship's broadside as if it was about to go under. 

-

The pirate ran; the sloop took chase; then blasts were exchanged with more strength from both sides. 

Finally the pirate seemed to surrender. The two ships were joined as if for a fight. The sloop hurled its crew on board the enemy’s. The combat turned bloody— it was a slaughter! The deck of the ship was slippery with so much blood, the sea bubbled with foam at the floating of so many corpses. In that moment some smoke that came from below deck was noticed. The pirate had set fire to the powder kegs… Only with a daring maneuver was the sloop able to get away from danger. But the explosion dealt her great damage. Some minutes later the pirate ship went up in the air. It was a frightful scene to witness among that bonfire of flames, to the blast of the powder, to the dazzling reverberation of the fire on the waters, the men that’d been thrown up into the air fall back into the ocean. 

Some, half burned, jumped into the water, others with members toasted and skin peeling off their bodies swam still in horrible pain and died twisting in curses. 

One league away from the scene of the combat there was an untouched beach, cut by rock mounds... The pirates that managed to escape saved themselves there. 

And while the captain beat his chest like a savage, I dishonored him like a coward. 

I don’t know how all the time after that was spent. It was a vision of doomed delights! Those were the loves of Satan and Eloah, of life and death, in the bosom of the sea. 

When I woke one day from that dream, the ship had run ashore at a sand bank; the rumbling of the keel biting the sand froze everyone in place… what woke me was a scream of agony…”

“Oi, woman, damned wench, can’t you see there’s no more wine?”

“Afterwards was a horrible picture! It was us in a raft on the open sea. Those who have read Don Juan, who perhaps made that venom your Bible, who slept the nights of satiety like I, who came to see dawn so many times with my face over it and my eyes still fixed upon it, will know how much one is filled with horror at those men being hurled into the sea, on a horizonless ocean, to the swing of the waters that seem to drown their derision in the cold muteness of fatality! 

One night, the storm came… we only had time to tie up our provisions… one must see the ocean growling in the dark like a band of hungry lions to know what a storm is! One must see it from a raft to the light of the storm, to the blasphemies of those who don’t believe and curse, to the tears of those who wait and despair, to the sobs of those who tremble and quiver with fright like when the door is suddenly knocked on… and I, I laughed: I was like the genius of skepticism in that desert. Every wave that swept our boards dragged a man, but every wave that roared at my feet seemed to respect me. It was an Ocean like that fiery one where Milton, the blind,'s lost angels fell; when they swam through them, the waters of the lava swamp gave way: death was for the children of God, not for the bastard of evil!  

I spent that whole night with the captain’s wife in my arms. It was a terrible entanglement that which was consummated between an infidel and a pale woman who was losing her mind: the marriage bed was the ocean, the foam of the waves was the silk that covered our bed. Among that concerto of howls going on at our feet, the moans suffocated us and we rolled together, tied to a rope in the raft, over the planks… 

When dawn came, there were five of us left: I, the captain’s wife, he and two sailors… 

For some days we ate some crackers salted with sea water’s salt. Then all of the most horrible things came to pass…

Why so pale, Solfieri? This is how life is. You know it as well as I do. What is man? It’s the scum that seethes in the storm today and dissolves tomorrow: something mad and moving like the waves, fatal like the grave! What is existence? In youth it is the kaleidoscope of illusions; then, one lives off the dew of the future. Then we grow old: when we reach thirty and the sweat of agonies whitened our hair before due time and withered, like our faces, our hopes, we oscillate between the visionary past and this tomorrow of old, cold and lonely— like a corpse that’s washed before being committed to the grave! Misery! Madness!”

“Very good! Misery and madness!” a voice interrupted.

The man who spoke was old. His head was balding and long and deep wrinkles made it gaunt: those were waves that the wind of old age had carved into the sea of his life… brown eyes shone under thick gray eyebrows and a thick mustache covered part of his lips. He wore a worn dark jacket and a faded cloak of the same color hung from his shoulders. 

“Who are you, old man?” asked the narrator. 

“I was walking by outside: the rain was pouring, the storm was frightful, so I entered. Good evening, gentlemen! If there be another glass in your table, fill it to the brim and I’ll drink with you.”

“Who are you?”

“Who am I? In truth tis’ hard to say: I’ve traveled much in the world, changing names and lives at every moment. I’ve been a poet, and as a poet I sang. I’ve been a soldier and bathed my young head in the last sunlight rays of the eagle of Waterloo. Shook in the heat of battle the hand of the man of the century. I drank at a tavern with Bocage, the Portuguese, knelt at the tomb of Dante in Italy and went to Greece to dream like Byron on that tomb of glories past— who am I? I was a poet at twenty, a libertine at thirty, I’m a vagabond without country or faith at forty. I sat in the shadow of all suns, kissed the lips of women from all around the world; and this entire pilgrimage brought only two memories— the love of a woman who died in my arms on the first night of intoxication and fever— and a poet’s agony… From her, I have a withered rose and the ribbon that bound her hair. From him, look…” 

The old man took a package from his pocket: the wrapper was a red fabric; untied it: a skull was inside. 

“A skull!” men yelled around him. “Are you a grave robber?”

“Look, young man, if you understand the science of Gall and Spurzheim[2], tell me, by the protuberance of this forehead and the humps of this head, who could've been this man?”

“Perhaps a poet… perhaps a madman.”

“Well done! You have guessed. You’re only wrong by not saying that he could be these two things at once. Seneca said it: poetry is madness. Perhaps genius is a hallucination and enthusiasm requires intoxication to write the fervent and sanguinary anthem of Rouget de l’Isle[3] or to, in the creation of the frightening panel of dead Christ by Holbein, study the decay of a corpse. In the mysterious life of Dante, in the orgies of Marlowe, in the pilgrimages of Byron there was a shadow of Hamlet’s ailment: who knows?”

“But what does this all come to?”

“Did you not cry out ‘misery and madness’! You, souls where perhaps once the breath of God bubbled, brains that genius’ divine light enlightened and that wine filled with vapors and the satiety of jeers? Fill the glasses to the brim! Fill them and drink them; drink to the memory of the brain that burned in this skull, to the soul that inhabited it, to the mad poet— Werner! And I shall cry out once again— misery and madness!”

The old man emptied his cup, shrouded himself and left. Bertram continued his story:

“I was telling you that something terrible was about to come to pass: there was no more food, and the voice of instinct, of the hungry guts, pleading for their sustenance like a dog at a slaughterhouse, though [that sustenance] was blood, awakened in man.

Hunger! Thirst! Everything there is of most horrible! 

In truth, gentlemen, is man a perfect creature? Sublime sculptor, God exhausted all His diligence in the carving of this marble. Divine Prometheus, He filled his protuberant skull with the light of genius. He lifted him by the hand, showed him the world from the mountain, like Satan did to Christ forty centuries later, and told him: see, all of this is beautiful— valleys and mountains, sea water that foams, leaves in the forests that tremble and whisper like my angels' wings— all of this is yours. I made you the beautiful world in the purple veil of twilight, made it golden with the rays of my face for you. Behold, king of the Earth! Bathe thy Olympic temple in these breezes, in this dew, in the foam of these waterfalls. Dream like the nights, sing like the angels, sleep amidst the flowers! Look! Amidst the flowery leaves of the valley sleeps a creature, pale like the veil of my virgins, blonde like the reflex of my clouds, harmonious like the sky's breezes in the forests of the earth. She’s yours: wake her, love her and she will love you; drown in her breast, in the waves of her hair like the sun between vapors. King in her bosom, king on earth, live off of love and faith, off of poetry and beauty, get up, go and you shall be happy! 

This is all beautiful, yes! But it is the most bitter irony, the disappointment most arid of all the ironies and all the disappointments. All of this fades before two most prosaic facts— hunger and thirst. 

The genius, the haughty eagle that loses itself in the clouds, that warms itself on the irradiance of the most ardent light from the sun— to fall like that in the mud of the moors, with lousy and verminous wings? Poet, why is it that in the middle of the most sublime ecstasy of spirit, a sarcastic and mephistophelian voice yells at you: ‘My Faust, illusions… is reality matter?!’ God wrote Λνα ́γκη[4], on the forehead of his creature!— Don Juan! Why do you cry to this warm kiss of Haidée's as she faints in your arms[5]?! A whore will sell those to you tomorrow more burning! Misery! And to say that everything there is of the most divine in man, most holy and perfumed in the soul melts away in the filth of reality, revolves in the swamp and still finds one infamous convulsion to say ‘I am happy!’…

All of that, gentlemen, to tell you something very simple… an old and beaten fact, a practice of the sea, a law of shipwreck— anthropophagy. 

Two days after we ran out of food there were three people left: myself, the captain, and her— we were three emaciated figures like corpses, whose naked chests heaved with agony, whose deep and dark stares were bloodshot like madness. 

The custom of the sea— I don’t mean to say the voice of physical nature, the cry of man’s egotism— commands the death of one for the life the rest. We cast our lots... by law the captain had to die.

And then the instinct of life woke him still. For one more day of existence, one more day of hunger and thirst, of a bed humid and swept by the cold winds of the north, a few more dead hours of blasphemy and agony, of hope and desperation, of prayers and disbelief, of fever and eagerness, the man knelt, cried, moaned at my feet…

‘Look,’ said the miserable man, ‘let us wait until tomorrow… God will have mercy on us… by your mother, by the entrails of your mother! By God if he exists! Let me, let me live still!’

Oh! Hope is like a parasite that bites and tears a tree trunk apart, and when it falls, when it dies and rots, still squeezes it in its shaking arms! To wait! When the sea wind whips the waves, when the sea foam washes your livid and naked body, when the horizon is deserted and endless and the sails that whiten afar the distance seem to flee! Poor madman! 

I laughed at the old man. My guts were on fire. To die today, tomorrow, or later… I was indifferent to everything, but today I was hungry, and I laughed because I was hungry.

The old man reminded me that he took me aboard his ship out of pity for me, reminded me that he loved me… and a storm of sobs and tears drowned the brave man that had never paled before death. 

It seems like death in the ocean is terrible to other men: when blood sprays their face, drenches their hands, they run towards death like a river towards the sea, like a rattlesnake to fire. But like this… in the watery desert… they fear it, they tremble before the cold skull of death! 

I laughed because I was hungry. 

Then the man rose. Fury rose in him with his last agony. He was staggering, and a cold sweat ran down his rawboned chest. He squeezed me in his yellowed arms, and we fought, chest to chest, foot for foot… for one day of misery! 

The yellowed moon raised her faded face, like a whore tired from a night of debauchery, the dark sky seemed to mock these two dying men that fought for one hour of agony…

The combat's bravest became faint… he fell; I put my foot against his throat, suffocated him and he died… 

Do not cover your face in your hands— you would’ve done the same… That corpse was our nourishment for two days… 

Later, the seabirds flew lower to share my prey; and during my nights of satiety a shadow came to claim its ration of human flesh…

I threw the remains into the sea…

The captain’s wife and I spent one day, two, without eating or drinking…

And so she proposed to die with me— I told her yes. That day was the last agony of the love that burned us; we spent it in convulsions to feel one last time the fresh honey of voluptuousness bathe our lips… it was the feverish rapture that two creatures in deathly delirium may have. When I freed myself from her arms the weakness was making her delirious. The delirium grew longer and longer, she'd lean over the waves and drink the salt water and offer it to me in her pale hands saying it was wine. The cold laughter came more and more erratically...

She was mad.

I did not sleep, could not sleep: an ardent torpor boiled my eyelids, the breath from my chest felt like fire, my dry, split lips just oozed blood.

I had fever in the brain... and hunger in my stomach. Hunger like a beast.

I squeezed her in my arms, pushed my burning mouth against her lips, squeezed her convulsively, suffocated her. She was still so beautiful!

I don’t know what strange delirium took hold of me. Some vertigo surrounded me. The sea seemed to laugh at me and circled around, foaming and greenish, like a whirlpool. The clouds that hovered above hurried by and seemed to filter black blood. The wind that blew through my hair seemed to whisper a memory…

Suddenly I felt alone. A wave had stolen my corpse. I saw it float as pale as its white clothing, half-naked, with its hair soaked in water; I saw it rise in the foam of the waves, like a sheet thrown to the waters…

How many hours, how many days I spent in that torpor, I do not know… When I woke from this waking man’s nightmare, I was aboard a ship.

It was the English brig Swallow that had saved me…[6]”

“Oi, barmaid, Satan’s bastard! Can’t you see I’m thirsty and the bottles are dry, dry like your face and our throats?”

-

Note: In the original text, the captain is referred to by the word "comandante" throughout, the direct translation of which is "commander", but I decided that the context in which it is used in the text best fits the word "captain" in English.

[1] In a letter from May 11th 1848 to his friend Luís Antônio da Silva, Álvares says of a girl he’s attracted to: “she’s the kind of woman to place inside a bell jar and worship on your knees”.

[2] Allusion to the pseudoscience of phrenology. Franz Joseph Gall (1758-1828) and his disciple Johann Gaspar Spurzheim (1776-1832) thought that measuring the bumps on a human’s skull could predict mental traits. Very popular concept with the Romantics.

[3] Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle (spelled here as L’Isle): French army officer who wrote the words and music to La Marseillaise, the French national anthem. 

[4] Greek word intended to mean fate, destiny, fatality; though it seems to be misspelled.

[5] Haidée is a character from Byron's Don Juan; she is the homonymous main character's bride (and savior).

[6] There were several English brigs named Swallow, but since it is unclear when the story is set, there's no way to know which one this is in reference to. And since it is such a common name, Álvares may have just seen it written on the hull of one of the countless English ships on the Guanabara Bay.

I hope you enjoyed! Next up is Gennaro. :)

[lonelypond]

2025: Breakout

Love Live, NicoMaki, 5.3K, 1/?

Summary: Super Idol and Closely Held Government Secret Yazawa Nico's been back from her tour, but she and Tokyo's top robotics expert, Nishikino Maki, have been at odds, unable to just pick up their relationship. And even if they can, how can they make a future work in a Tokyo that wants to limit their choices. Sequel to 2024.

A/N: Giving myself a Lunar New Year present a day early and posting this as a challenge. I rough drafted this chunk a year ago maybe and I kept tossing between potential story arcs and stalled. However, this is one of my favorite AU's so I'm giving myself a nudge. Any chapters to follow may or may not follow a linear timeline. Apparently I’ve missed juggling multiple AUs. Enjoy!

Also, thanks again to the Love Live Wikia for song translations. And may the Year Of The Pig bring you health, prosperity, and happiness. Thanks for all your support.

Chapter One

"Ebbing and rising,

The waves of my heart wash me away The strength to desire something this much Is the passionate Reason in my chest

That's strange; I'm feeling fervent! Once you've taken the first step, you've gotta run Has everyone gone through this? Everything starts to pick up; Ah, I can't stop

I think I want to give those things a try; I'll walk forwards while counting them"

And that’s Love Arrow with "Yuuki No Reason". Winter is winding down with a bit too much gray for our liking, but the next Tunnel Rave theme is Neon Night. Password is “first step.” Text it to the number you know for the location. And we’ll also be hosting a virtual dance floor for those of you who can’t make it out. Diamond Princess has banned Nico Ni songs but send us your requests for anything else that hits the target for you. And Ballet Twist has some advice about which toys to avoid when you hit the virtual dance floor.

FALLING INTO HER EYES

Five times in the past month. Professor Nishikino Maki couldn’t seem to avoid events that the Number One Idol in Japan aka that demon doll, Nico Ni was scheduled to perform at. She couldn’t blame either Nico or her mother. Nico had barely returned from her tour of the North of Japan, released a new single with a new sound and a burst of popularity, pleasing her government minders. Tonight was the fifth event, an unveiling of a new Robotics lab at a small company Maki often consulted with. Maki wondered if the Air Special Defense Forces did too, but the robot she’d examined the night she’d uncovered Nico Ni’s double life was the only one of its kind she’d heard of. And Eli had put discreet questions out but received no answers. Maki was having no success growing her own organoid brain, even at a small size.

Maki had decided casual was the ticket for tonight so tailored black trousers, her N-Zan, grey button down shirt, loose white tie, black vest. She and Nico had tried meeting for a meal -- pizza -- in a dive near Muse, when Nico had first returned to Tokyo, but it had been an awkward encounter, neither of them sure what they could safely discuss in public. It had also ended awkwardly, a quick kiss and a promise to meet again when their schedules cleared.

Which didn’t suit Maki at all. No 1 Idol and the rest of the Idol Fools had been painting regularly, but Maki had noticed an increase in curfew drones and police foot patrols in areas that had been hit by them. Which worried her.

Maki entered through a few photographers and reporters, nodding in their direction, but neither answering questions or smiling, as they expected. Next would be the colleagues excited by her latest breakthroughs in electrical transfer from skin photocells. Batteries for emergency only would leave more room for processing power. She and Eli had been working on a breakthrough for two years, but after seeing what was possible with organic brains, Maki had to fake her excitement. But it had led to her contract being renewed, a budget increase and the possibility of hiring another grad student, although the department had pushed her to hire one of the younger male grad students, preferably a married one. That had been the theme of Nico Ni’s last song, a slow, pulsing number, the joys of newlyweds under the cherry blossoms, which had led to Nico performing at every wedding Maki had been invited to recently. The wealthier families being able to hire the crazy popular Idol made both marriage and wealth seem more exciting to everyone looking on through their personal devices. Maki was really quite fed up with both wealth and marriage, although she did appreciate that her money made much of what Soldier Game did possible as she had provided the seed money for Eli’s investment portfolio.

Inside, someone had draped black fabric everywhere, lights shimmering against the folds, highlighting the textures. Seemed gloomy, but maybe that was just Maki’s mood. At least there would be dark corners and Maki could hide there. She grabbed a bottled seltzer water and slunk into the corner she’d decided on. Wait for the music to start, give it a few minutes, then find the founder, shake his hand and express her reluctant need to get back to her lab. It was a great plan. Maki had spent at least an hour going through the steps in her mind, including the slight nod when the demonic black eyes of Nico Ni glanced in her direction. As if she didn’t know her, as if she thought the eyes were actually black, as if she hadn’t been dreaming every night about…

Nope. That was a trap. Take a sip of water. Focus. Ignore everything below eye level. Until they simper.

“So the brilliant Professor can’t stop stalking the great Nico Ni?” Nico’s voice sounded even peakier than usual.

Maki took a long moment and looked down her nose at the singer, taken aback by a Nico shaped hole under a lace cage of deep blue lights. It was disconcerting, she heard Nico’s voice, but as her eyes struggled to find definition in Nico’s face, she could only sweep the contours and as her line of sight followed the line of Nico’s body down, and she was pretty sure some of the curves were padded, but there was nothing but depth. Maki shivered, a hand instinctively reaching out but as she connected with the light cage, Nico Ni hopped back, “No touching, Professor. You’ll break the illusion.”

“Sorry,” Maki grunted, pushing her hand into the wall behind her to contact something solid, her eyes still futilely attempting to make sense of Nico’s lips and nose, lost in the darkest black she’d ever seen.

There was silence, a hole between them as black and deep as whatever was obscuring every detail of Nico’s appearance. Nico fell back into character, leaning forward toward Maki, what might be an arm sweeping her finger to her lips, her voice a coquettish giggle, “Don’t tell anyone, but Nico Ni is debuting a new song later. About pretty girls.” Maki was glad she couldn’t see the wink. That was her cue to accuse Nico Ni of being simplistic or untalented or invasive. Her cue for disdain and disinterest. They’d done this same exchange too often recently and Maki didn’t have the drive for another round.

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy the performance.” Maki shrugged and went in search of the founder.

Nico frowned, startled out of character for a breath as she watched the redhead get further and farther away. “No fight left?” Nico muttered, uncertain. Then with a smile obscured by designed darkness, she swept back into the crowd, every awed comment, every intake of breath, every ‘Nico Ni’ shouted greeting fueling her for the upcoming performance. No time for worry.

Maki had left halfway through Nico Ni’s performance and headed to the dojo. She and Umi were trying to build an light array based on specs Hanayo had given them. Umi was also working a program to mimic the abilities and reactions of the organoid brain. Maki calculated that if they could find the right pattern, seizures could be triggered in the A-RIse bots, similar to how patterns effected epileptics. It would be a strategy to use against them, if necessary. Eli was working on sourcing parts for a Taser sized EMP device that could trigger a robot shutdown. Nico would probably refuse if Maki asked to borrow one to test it on. But that didn’t mean Maki wasn’t going to work from the data they’d gotten. Maki guessed Nico and the rest of the Idol Fools would let their paint cans idle tonight. It would probably take Nico far too long to get the body paint off to make any other activity practical.

Maki pulled up the main screen and did an automatic check for Soldier Game mentions and #sgame on TWIG. The social media chatter had been dropping; the government had had a bunch of bots pushing Nico Ni’s latest single and spreading the rumor that Soldier Game were government agents. Attendance at the last rave had dropped and Nozomi had passed a rumor on to Eli that there might be a raid at the next one.

Maki sighed and hearted the latest IdolFools image. They needed to talk about a way to pushback. Eli had started taking advice from Nozomi, but she thought they needed to be public figures, something not even Eli agreed with. And Umi was preparing for a trip to see Alisa. Maki was the only person lacking advice from someone significant in her life.

Her phone buzzed? She looked down. The encrypted weather app. A change in the Kyoto forecast. That meant Nico.

N: Where are you?

M: Working.

N: Nico is at your place. And you only have pizza. （●≧艸≦

M: Why are you at my place?

N: TO SEE YOU (ღ꒡ ᵌ꒡)⋆﹡♡⃛*⁎⋆(꒡ᵋ ꒡ღ)

M: I’ll be there in 10 minutes. Stay put.

N: ┗(^o^　)┓三

Maki pulled her hat down and tossed on a dark hoodie. Back into the tunnels. To see Nico. Her stomach fluttered a little as her pulse picked up. She hoped Nico had gotten out of that nightmare makeup. She had enough bad memories of the Idol’s ‘demon doll’ side.

Maki was surprised to find Nico calmly on her couch, wearing baggy cargo pants and an over sized sweatshirt. Her face had been scrubbed clean, but there were disconcerting slashes of dark on her neck that Maki kept staring at.

“You need to upgrade your makeup removal stash. Nico will give you a list.” Nico put down the book...one of Maki’s recent organic robotics purchases and leaned back, “Hey, genius.”

“I have a name.” Maki snapped.

“Professor Nishikino.”

Maki sighed and fell into the couch, “I missed you too, Lt. Colonel.”

Nico’s head was suddenly in Maki’s lap, Nico’s eyes literally holes in her head. Maki didn’t scream, that was a plus, although she did nearly bite through her lip.“Please, Nico-chan, take out your contacts.” Maki tried not to shiver, but Nico caught the movement away from her and bounced up immediately.

“Do you have anything that isn’t pizza?” Nico complained as she hurried into the half bath. Maki took a container out of her kangaroo pocket, “I picked you up some kind of rice dish from a street vendor.”

Nico leapt over the couch, kissed Maki and grabbed the box, “You are so worth it.”

“Worth what?” Maki kept staring at the paint slashes, which moved as Nico swallowed. Eerie.

“Sneaking out after curfew, fraternizing with enemies of the state, risking my career,” Nico turned, mid chew and winked, “And my heart.”

“You have one?” Maki doubled down on snarky and wished she hadn’t. This was a real chance to talk to, to be with Nico and here she was, back to blowing it. Nico raised an eyebrow and Maki saw another slash of dark under it. This looked like Nico had a tiny hole in her head. Tonight was a winner in the least favorite Nico Ni costume derby. “I’ll wait while you get out your stethoscope, Doc.” Nico waved her chopsticks toward Maki’s lab.

“I’m sorry.” Maki slid a little closer to Nico, “How’s the recovery from the A-Tak?”

“Nico hasn’t fallen in” Nico counted off something with the chopsticks, “Three weeks.”

Maki nodded, a little closer, her arm on the couch behind Nico. She watched as Nico picked up every last bit of rice and then neatly placed box and utensils on the table. Then Nico turned, “You look even better than I remember.”

So did Nico. Lips thankfully free of black paint, crimson eyes a mysterious, welcoming warmth. Maki could feel Nico so vividly, where her arm rested near the Idol’s back. Maki was 1000% sure there were important topics to discuss and lines to draw, but Nico wasn’t moving away and Maki just wanted to charge forward into a kiss. Touching Nico’s lips was a jolt, the first time Maki had been overwhelmed by the sensations that exploded, but this time woven into an even greater crash of sensations was the memories, the touches, the thrusts, the skin against skin contact that made every flinch, every twitch a wave. And Nico was moaning yes, and Maki barely heard a zipper through the cacophony in her ears and Nico was encouraging Maki to lift off her sweatshirt, then Maki’s lips were sliding down Nico’s tensing abdomen, her hands stroking up the dancer’s muscles that had always fascinated her, Nico crying Maki’s name and Maki suddenly desperately hungry for a new taste.

###

Couch again, Maki thought as she pulled Nico closer, before the blanket slipped off both of them. Not that Maki would have minded the view, but...not letting go of Nico while creating a warm space for snuggling seemed to be a higher priority to her instinctive reactions. Nico yawned and pecked a kiss on Maki’s cheek.

“Hey,” Nico wondered sleepily, “Where were you? The university’s further away than 10 minutes.”

“Top secret.” Maki murmured into Nico’s hair, “No one knows.”

Nico flipped so she was lying on top of Maki, her eyes full of the impish glee that had charmed Maki through the computer screen, “I can find it.”

“Ha!” Maki shook her head. Nico pressed her lips together, dragged an extremely distracting hand along Maki’s ribs and dropped her head to whisper, “Bet I can” into Maki’s ear, triggering shivers.

“No.” Maki managed to get out.

“No?” Nico pulled back, quirking an eyebrow.

“Won’t find it….” Maki was finding hard to get words out as Nico’s hands ranged lower, taking their time over her curves.

Maki kicked the blanket off and Nico laughed, “Getting hot?”Nico hovered over Maki’s lips, barely brushing kisses against them. WIth a moan, Maki wrapped her arms around Nico, forcing the Idol even closer.

“I think that’s a yes,” Nico whispered as her hand skimmed over Maki’s breasts and Maki gasped, nodding, her legs hooking around Nico’s as momentum took more than the blanket to the floor.

###

Nico and Maki were sitting, backs against the couch, pizza shared between them, blanket wrapped around them, speakers playing jazz.

“How’s the Soldier Game business?” Nico popped the tab on a cold coffee.

Maki frowned, finishing her slice of pizza, “Not as much traffic; government spreading rumors that we’re government agents. We’re trying to figure out a strategy to ‘retake a defensible position, ‘to quote Umi.”

“Give the people what they want.” Nico stated simply.

Maki turned, ignoring the blanket that fell off her shoulder, enjoying Nico’s inability not to stare, “And what do the people want?”

Nico’s finger traced a gentle line across Maki’s nearest shoulder, tapping lightly up her neck, “The people want sexy.”

“Sexy? But we’re anonymous…” Maki looked confused.

“So? You don’t need pictures. Music can be sexy. Haven’t you heard Nico’s latest?” Nico stared at Maki for a long moment and when no response was given, she shrugged and continued, “Nico will forgive you. It’s capital S, triple XXX, kiss the girl hard, SeXXXy. Kind winds don’t really blow the clothes off girls.”

Maki had recovered and her eyebrow went to war, raising archly to eloquently express doubt, “I don’t see yours.”

Nico roared with laughter, then kissed Maki hard enough to scramble Maki’s next thought, which was fine with Nico, “See, sexxxy. Spice up your music. Give the cute girls what they want.”

Maki growled, as she moved into Nico, “And what do you want?”

“There’s the sexy,” Nico bopped Maki on the nose, causing the redhead to sit up,”Growl like a...panther, prowl...visualize.” Nico gestured at herself, then slid the blanket off her shoulder, “You don’t get to see this much of the Number One Idol in the universe without some game.”

Nico was giggling. Maki sighed and leaned back.

“What’s wrong?”

“You have no sense of mood.”

“Nico Ni knows mood.”

“Nico Ni knows nothing.”

Nico pulled Maki in, kissing her so long and with so much weight that the redhead was breathless and panting and leaning forward for more, “Nico knows Maki will remember this.”

Maki didn’t want to let Nico win, while at the same time desperately wanting Nico’s kiss. Nico took advantage of her internal argument to once again advance, her caresses expertly deployed to melt Maki into a shivering mess.

“...want...No 1….Lt….Col...Yaza...you...,” Maki managed to get out amid mostly animal noises.

Nico’s laugh was a cold contrast to the warmth her hands were driving straight through Maki’s legs, “I bet I can have you singing my latest song. I know you listened to it.”And all senses surrendered before Lt. Colonel Yazawa’s bold sweeps. No treaties were signed.

THE MORNING AFTER

Fortunately, Maki did not have an 8 am class scheduled so sleeping in after Nico left at dawn was not a problem. There was a department meeting at 3 so Maki headed in early to clear out her email and prepare. A woman, dressed in more business like attire than the usual student wear, was pacing outside her office.

“Hello?” Maki greeted her visitor.

“Doctor Nishikino?” The woman’s voice had a lovely, musical lilt but everything else about her screamed razor sharp professional edge.

“Can I help you?” Maki tapped out her passcode, puzzled.

“Did you receive Doctor Amago’s message?”

Maki shrugged, “I had family business this morning and haven’t checked anything.”

The woman shook her head and followed Maki into her office, uninvited. Maki sat behind her desk, typed in her password and waited.

“If you had read Dr. Amago’s message, you would have expected me.’

“I am sorry if my being unprepared is causing a delay in your day.” Maki bowed her head slightly, monitoring the tone of her voice closely, “Can we reschedule for another time?”

The woman shook her head, still standing. “I am Inoue Kiku, departmental assistant for media relations.”

Maki realized the woman frowning at her was her link to the media, the Ms. Inoue who passed on all the requests for interviews.

“Dr. Amago has asked me to pass on a directive that the government had given to him.” Inoue linked her hands behind her back, light eyes boring into Maki’s. “For such a high profile department, working so closely with military suppliers, the government requests that you hire an assistant who is both male and married.”

“W...what...why?” Maki half rose from her chair, hands clenching.

“While we acknowledge that Ayase-san’s work has met the requirements of the position, we feel that two women at the head of our premier robotics efforts sends the wrong message.”

Maki stood, hands shoved into her desk to channel some of the flaring rage she felt, but any comments she thought crashed into her faltering mental filter so she just stared into Inoue’s expressionless eyes, mouth slightly open.

“Ayase-san will be moved to another, less visible department.” Inoue stated.

Maki shook herself, “I am not firing my assistant and replacing her with a random male. Does the university demand any level of talent or skill or experience of this imaginary male?

Inoue didn’t back down, even as Maki’s voice gathered force, “The government representative I spoke to was not concerned about that. We would pre…:

Maki inhaled and drew herself up, briskly cutting off Inoue, “I don’t care. I am not replacing Ayase-san. Her work is excellent. Please inform Dr. Amago of my decision. Should another research assistant slot open up, I will certainly consider his advice, but my main concern is the quality of the work being done. That will not change.”

“Your status does not make your position more secure, Dr. Nishikino.”

“Thank you for sharing your belief, Inoue-san. Please leave my office. I need to catch up on my correspondence.”

Inoue shut the door behind her and Maki fell back into her chair, all the post night with Nico jaunty replaced with worry for Eli and frustration with a government that had decided, once again, to put women in secondary positions. Eli’s partial Russian heritage heightened the probability that the department would not stop pushing until they’d found a way to replace her with a ‘definitive picture of traditional Japan.” Maki needed to install a speed bag here as well, especially if the government was planning to use her to further its agenda. How did Nico manage? Maki closed her laptop. Quick walk was a better use of her pre meeting time. She didn’t really want to think about the choices Nico made daily and the message Nico was promoting. Maki had been able to float a little above the fray, buffered by circumstances and money, but now she could feel the ground shift, about to tilt her into the messy middle of the fight.

###

Nico entered the offices. Sergeant Takeda saluted, “He wants to see you.”

Nico nodded, stepping quickly into Komura’s office.

“Yazawa.” Komura was sorting through papers.“Sir?”

“Phase Three is approaching and we are being ordered to develop new public outreach strategies. There’s a meeting in two hours with the rest of the team. Your “find a new songwriter” suggestion was a big success and a commendation has been posted in your file, but I want at least three more usable ideas from you.” Komura met Nico’s eyes, grim, “There are elements pushing back and we need to counter their efforts.”

Soldier Game, Nico thought to herself, and Maki had insisted that their numbers were lacking, but Nico couldn’t think of anyone else out there pushing counter propaganda. Well, the Idol Fools, but...

“Is there anything in particular going on, sir?” Nico was surprised that she asked, and recovered, “so I know where are our efforts are weak?”

Komura stood, clapping Nico on the shoulder, “You’re a loyal airman, Yazawa. I respect that.” He sighed, “Mostly foreign influences, celebrity postings on TWIG, a podcast and a few Japanese artists, some of whom are anonymous. We’ll be discrediting the public figures, but we need some high voltage celebrity presence ourselves.”

Nico nodded, good soldier Nico time. A strategy to boost Nico Ni’s image had flashed in her mind immediately, but she wasn’t going to enjoy it and she was willing to bet a certain temperamental roboticist would hate it.

“I’m on it, sir.”

“Good. Two hours, Yazawa, use them well.”

Nico saluted, thoughts pinballing between opposite worlds and incompatible needs.

INTERLUDE

Eli was always surprised at how quickly Muse had become a second home and how comfortable she had gotten with Nozomi. It was still disconcerting when Nozomi would fix Eli with an intense stare and insist Eli pull a card from her Tarot deck. The last had been a Two of Rods, with Nozomi insisting that Eli was preparing for a journey, to which Eli���s reply had been that she’d pulled Umi’s fortune by accident. And had then sat through a lecture on how the cards did not tell fortunes, they provided guidance. Considering how Nozomi’s turquoise eyes had twinkled and Eli’s reward after, Eli was willing to learn more about Tarot any time Nozomi was willing. Eli was willing to learn more about anything any time Nozomi was willing.

They were upstairs, in Nozomi’s room, jammed between the Idol Fools workspace and Kotori’s fabric and clothing storage. Eli was lounging on the bed in a open shirt while Nozomi puttered in the kitchen, making tea, in a sarong and bra.

“Is there always this chemical smell?” Eli wondered.

“Sorry. I’ll open a window. They must be trying a new paint formula. They mask the profile with smells the drones won’t track, mostly spices.”

“So that’s why I get a curry craving whenever Honoka and Rin hug me.” Eli yawned and laid back.

Nozomi giggled, “What kind of tea do you want?”

“You.” Eli propped herself up on an elbow, her best come-hither grin aimed right at Nozomi.

Nozomi shook her head, “Chamomile it is.” After pouring water into the kettle, she sat on the side of the bed, taking one of Eli’s hands in hers, “I need to talk to you, Eli-chi.”

Eli immediately pulled Nozomi in for a hug, worry replacing any other thoughts, “What’s wrong?”

“Honoka and Rin found three more teens who were kicked out by their families.” Nozomi said, softly, her head pressed into Eli’s shoulders as the blonde tightened her hold, “We’ve almost got a safe place set up for them, but we need a little more help…”

“What do you need?” Eli’s organizational skills readied to receive a list

“Money, food, clothes….They had the clothes on their back and two kept their phones.”

Eli kissed the top of Nozomi’s head, blue eyes earnest, “I don’t have much, but I’ll talk to Maki.”

Nozomi shook her head, “No, Eli-chi, what they need is Soldier Game. We need to reach out to as many people as we can. We’re going to need more safe spaces and to tell people how to find them.”

Of course, Soldier Game. Eli blushed a little, embarrassed at her misunderstanding of Nozomi’s intent. Nozomi tilted her head, watching as Eli looked shyly away and took the blonde’s hand again, “You are a wonder, Eli-chi. You care and do so much. It’s what I love most about you.”

Eli raised her head, amazed as she heard Nozomi’s words repeat in her head. And then before she could stutter out a response, Nozomi’s lips reinforced the message they’d just breathed out.

###

"Flow like the waves until dawn breaks My feelings swirl more violently than usual And I feel as though I could fall apart completely

Should I sleep? The moon eventually grows light A gentle dream falls upon my chest

With this clichéd sadness and clichéd pain, I barely hold back tears and watch the stars They shine brighter than usual, and seem to fall As they quietly illuminate me…"

Greetings! That was our newest song "Arifureta Kanashimi no Hate". Ballet Twist here wishing you gentle dreams. But some of us are facing rather harsh realities and so we’re here tonight with a request from the IdolFools and new friend CupQueen, who are finding safe spaces for those turned out and turned against by families, landlords and friends. Next tunnel rave, three days from now, please bring an item that would get you through a dark night. We have to help each other. Code word is star watching; you’ll get the usual text. And watch the clubs for a Minalisky appearance; Love Arrow has heard they’ve been really restless lately and looking to burn up a dance floor ENBY style ‘til they close down the club.

On a brighter note, two newer and gayer episodes of Dynamic Leadership Rescue Force have been given the RAY treatment, redubbed for your virtual pleasure. Strap into our VRLock and see what Captain Sasaki and Dr. Tora have discovered on the Shadow Planet.

And now, our resident street medic, Diamond Princess, has recorded some tips for taking care of yourself out in the wild. Listen up. We got your back, hoods and g-skis, but you have to stay safe ‘til we can get you to help.

“DATING” Maki yelled. Eli and Umi looked up from the light array they were working on. Maki was hovering over a Yazawa Nico oddly lacking confidence.

Nico muttered, head down, Maki leaned down, Nico reached a hand out to Maki’s cheek, Maki stepped back and turned on her heel.

Eli and Umi exchanged a glance, as they caught the look on Maki’s face, sullen and scared. “Come upstairs, Eli. Alisa texted me some new photos of her latest eaglet.” Umi grabbed Eli’s arm, both doing their best to ignore the other two in the bunker.

“Maki…” Maki’s eyes were tearing and Eli hesitated, not certain what would be best to say. Nico’s head was still down, hands shoved deep in her pockets, “We’ll be upstairs when you’re done.”

Maki nodded. After Eli and Umi left, Nico came up gently behind her lover and looped both arms around Maki’s waist, “It’s not really dating and I don’t like it either, Maki.”

“I hate it.” Maki spat.

Nico leaned her head into Maki, “How can you…?”

“I have a job.” Nico said quietly.

“D..did Komura think this up? Because…” Maki began, fists clenched and started to press into her thighs.

“I did.” Nico’s voice was so soft Maki couldn’t believe she’d actually heard Nico correctly. “It was my idea.”

Maki turned, Nico’s arms still around her, amethyst eyes open and lost, “Nico-chan?”

Nico swallowed and then blew out a long breath, “After I saw you last, Komura told me our superiors wanted us to develop pushback strategies against things like Soldier Game. Having Nico Ni make public appearances with high profile athletes and celebrities was my suggestion.”

“Why? Do you want to?” Maki felt as if she were going to fall and Nico seemed to sense the sag in energy because she moved them both to a chair, sitting across Maki, arms around the redhead’s neck, one hand playing idly with curls of hair.

“No. And nothing will happen. But I have a job. And I want to do it well. And I don’t want anyone looking for reasons I might be disloyal.” I don’t want them looking for you, Nico thought as she took one of Maki’s hands, brought it to her lips and kissed the palm, “I won’t lie to you, Maki. But there’s some things I can’t tell you right now. You just have to trust me.”

Maki knew Nico was trying to distract her by letting her lips slowly move from palm to wrist to forearm, but she was too detached to notice the gentle pressure. “Nico-chan.” Maki’s tone commanded Nico’s attention and the ruby eyes blinked up at her, mischief clouded by worry.

Nico let Maki’s arm drop and put both her hands on Maki’s cheeks, ensuring that their eyes stayed locked on each other, “I want you. So much. Only you. Nico never imagined feeling like this when I was 18 and they said, “Hey Nico Ni, sign up here for ten years and be an idol.” Nico frowned, “I never imagined anyone as amazing as you in my life, Maki-chan.” Nico kissed Maki, lips desperately twisting to break through the barrier Maki’s stiffness was building around her heart. ”Please trust me. It’ll be like spending time with my little brother for Nico. People will mostly care about seeing posts on TWIG. I won’t care at all.”

Maki sniffled as Nico licked away tears rolling down her face, “I hate this, Nico-chan.”

Nico kissed Maki’s cheek softly before replying, “I know. But I can’t just quit.”

Silence. Both of them staring ahead, no future to be seen, wondering if the other’s was darker. Maki could feel Nico, so close, so much brighter and warmer than any tomorrow she could see. Nico would be with other people, talking, laughing, maybe kissing, maybe…

Nico’s eyes were serious, as if she were reading Maki’s mind, “I won’t.”

Maki had no words, but her hands grabbed the back of Nico’s head and pulled the Idol in for a deep, yielding kiss, any self control Nico might have had dashed by the sudden softness inviting her in, Maki’s whispers encouraging her to prove how much Maki would haunt her thoughts, pushing Nico deeper into the swell of need surging between them, into an intensity of emotion Nico was not prepared for, but there was Maki’s voice, the movement under Nico’s hands, the fingers gliding shivers across Nico’s back. Nico pulled back, staring into trust and warmth and confusion, taking a breath to regain control.

“N...Nico-chan?” And that breath became a hiss as Maki touched a hesitant finger to Nico’s underlip.

Another surge, another kiss, another second became an eternity for Nico, “I love you, Maki-chan.” And then Nico ensured that neither of them said anything else, so she didn’t have to think about what “I love you” meant or hear a response that would lead to a court martial. A moan, a cry, a plea, she knew how to handle those.

[klaineanummel]

Story of My Life 24/24

Kurt reflects on the past twelve years of his life, coming to realize that one man in particular has affected him far more than he ever thought he would

Welcome to the final chapter of my originally-written-for-klaineadvent fic :) While this fic is now officially complete, I'm not done with this universe (I don't know how I ever imagined I would be, considering how huge this universe was when I originally conceived of it back in 2014). If you’ve been over to AO3, you will have seen that this fic is now Part One of a series! So far I have three follow-up stories planned, but who knows if that will really be the end. You never know with me!

I know a lot of you will probably feel let down by this chapter, but it was always in my plans to end it like this. It's actually this ending that made me more open to the idea of turning this into a series, because I knew how I wanted it to end, but I also knew that the ending would only be scratching the surface on a lot of issues that have been brought up throughout the fic. I hope you will enjoy nonetheless!

Thank you so much to everybody who has supported me and this fic throughout the past month-and-a-bit. I'm really blown away by the reaction to this story. I hope I will get to see you all (or at least some of you) soon when I post the first follow-up fic for this series (which, to be honest, I'm not sure when that will be). Love you all, and thank you so much for coming on this ride with me. I've had so much fun with it <3

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May 8th, 2024

Kurt’s brain doesn’t seem to kick into gear until the reception hall door is clicking shut behind Blaine. He scrambles off his bar stool and runs after him, feeling like the absolute stupid person in the world.

Six months? Six months? The fuck he’s had feelings for Blaine for six months. As memory after memory continues to hit him, he wonders how he could have spent so much time not realizing that he’s been in love with Blaine for years.

He’s so thankful that he didn’t follow his earlier desire to get completely wasted. Chasing after Blaine in his formal shoes is already uncomfortable enough.

He pushes through the reception hall door, and instantly calls out, “Blaine!”

It’s a little chilly for May, and Kurt shivers as he stares at the large parking lot the reception hall leads onto. Why couldn’t Blaine have exited through the back, with the gorgeous balcony and beautiful view? This would be so much more romantic back there.

“Blaine!” he shouts again. There’s no way he could have gone far, he literally just left.

He can’t believe he spent even a minute thinking that he was just settling for Blaine. That his feelings were anything but true. Of course he loves Blaine. He feels like he’s just been hit over the head with it. God, how did he not see it before?

“Blaine!” he calls out a third time, and is finally granted a response in the form of a groan.

He turns toward the sound, seeing Blaine step out from just around the corner of the building. His shoulders are slumped, and he looks more annoyed than anything at the fact that Kurt has followed him.

“Look, Kurt, I think I know what you’re going to say, and I thought I would be okay to have this conversation with you again, but honestly I’m not sure that I can.”

Kurt starts to head toward him, shaking his head. “No, you really don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“Yeah, I do. We’ve had this conversation about a hundred times. I know, you think of me as a close friend, you can’t imagine life without me, you’re not uncomfortable but you don’t love me back, you never will, I get it, Kurt.”

The anger in Blaine’s words make Kurt stop in his tracks. He stares at him for a moment, takes in the frustration in Blaine’s eyes, and the way that his hands are clenched tightly at his sides. His breath comes heavily as he watches Blaine, licking his dry lips, trying to think of what to say.

Blaine snorts when Kurt doesn’t immediately respond. “Seriously, Kurt, it’s fine. We won’t be having this conversation again, I promise. I’m really done this time.”

“No,” Kurt manages.

Blaine’s entire face falls as he stares at Kurt. “No?”

Kurt shakes his head. “No.”

“No, what? No, you don’t think it’ll be the last time? Because I know you have reason to believe that, but I really mean it this time.”

“No, I don’t want you to be done.”

Blaine’s lips part slightly in surprise, and Kurt takes a step toward him, wanting nothing more than to kiss them. He presses them back together tightly, though, instead of speaking. His eyes remain steadfast on Kurt’s, and Kurt’s heart aches at the mix of defeat and anger he sees written in them.

Kurt takes another step forward, almost reaching Blaine.

Blaine crosses his arms over his chest, and finally speaks. “Is that it? That’s all you have to say? You don’t want me to be done, and then you just stop?” He shakes his head. “What the hell does that even mean, Kurt?”

“I—” Kurt takes two final steps toward Blaine, close enough to reach out and touch him. He hesitates, though, not entirely sure if his touch would be welcome right now. He swallows thickly, then looks directly into Blaine’s eyes and says, “I do remember my promise from ten years ago.” He wraps his arms around himself as a wind gust blows past them. “I mean, how could I forget?”

“I don’t even know why I brought that up,” Blaine mumbles. “I’ve always known you were just placating me back then. Telling the stupid teenager what he wanted to hear.” His arms tighten around himself, and he shivers gently. “You know I told myself I would wait for you?” He scoffs, shaking his head, and Kurt’s heart aches. “God, so stupid.”

“I’m so sorry, Blaine,” Kurt says. “I… in hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Not then. It wasn’t really fair, especially since you’re right. I was just placating you.”

“Okay, seriously, Kurt? This sucks.” Blaine practically spits the words out. “If you just came out here to beat me over the head with how stupid I’ve been to even consider that you might like me back—”

“No, I swear—”

“Because I refuse to feel stupid for it anymore, okay? I know you just see me as Cooper’s younger brother, that I’ll always be a kid to you, but you don’t treat me that way. I see you staring at me, and we’re always spending time together. You always tell me how amazing I am, how I’m the best person in your life. Don’t you see how that fucks with my head?” Blaine is practically shouting by the time he’s done, arms raising dramatically over his head. He’s shaking, though Kurt can’t tell if it’s due to anger or the chill.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Blaine,” Kurt says, trying to remain calm. “I… think that I’m the stupid one, actually.”

Blaine stares at him for a moment, then raises an eyebrow. “Are you waiting for me to disagree? Because I won’t.”

“I’m not,” Kurt promises. “I’m sorry, I just… this is hard. I only just realized that I’m in love with you, and now I’m here, and I feel like this is getting so out of control, and I’m not saying any of the right things, and—”

“Kurt,” Blaine says, and Kurt stops, surprised at the tight tone of Blaine’s voice. “What did you just say?”

“I said it’s getting so out of control,” Kurt says, shuffling on his feet. “I didn’t really imagine this conversation going this way.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. The other part. The being in love with me part?”

“Oh,” Kurt feels his cheeks heating. He forces himself to stand still, arms wrapped tightly around himself. “Well, yes. That. Right.”

“You’re in love with me?” Kurt isn’t sure if Blaine sounds more disbelieving or frustrated. Kurt sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, watching Blaine carefully.

“Yes? Yes. Yes, I am.”

Blaine stares at him, face completely emotionless for a second, before his entire body stiffens and he shouts, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Kurt’s eyes widen in shock at the outburst, watching as Blaine spreads his arms wide in question, eyes burning with an emotion Kurt deeply hopes isn’t anger.

“Like, seriously, Kurt? You’re in love with me? You’re just going to drop that bomb on me at my goddamn brother’s wedding, after making me think that you were coming out here to reject me again?”

Kurt winces, taking a careful step back. “Uh, wow. I didn’t… Jeez, I’m really screwing this up,” he says the last part under his breath, but Blaine laughs sardonically, clearly having heard him.

“You think, Kurt? You think you’re screwing this up? What the hell is even happening right now?!”

“I’m sorry, Blaine, I’m still… my brain is sort of playing catch-up, this is all happening really fast.”

“Fast? This is not fast, Kurt. Twelve years is not fast.”

“Right, sorry, wrong choice of words, I just—” he puts his hands up, not really sure how to deal with such an angry Blaine. Aside from that one New Year’s, he and Blaine have never really fought, at least not like this, and so he doesn’t have much experience dealing with an angry Blaine. “Look, can we maybe sit down? Inside? And talk?”

“We can talk here and now,” Blaine grits out.

“Yeah, okay, we can do that, too,” Kurt says. “So, yeah, um, I love you.” Kurt scratches at his arm, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet. “I didn’t really picture telling you like this, or you reacting this way, but I didn’t really picture it at all since I just realized about five minutes ago, so—"

“Oh, my god,” Blaine interrupts, bringing a hand up to his hair. “You know what, I changed my mind, we shouldn’t talk about this. I think this is just a little too much for me.”

“No, Blaine, please,” Kurt rushes forward before he can stop himself, grabbing Blaine’s hands tightly. They’re cold, though Kurt is sure that his own are colder. “Please, don’t go.”

Blaine stops, moving, staring down at their connected hands. “Kurt, this is crazy. You realize this is crazy, right?”

“Of course I realize this is crazy,” Kurt says, squeezing Blaine’s hands tight. “How do you think I’ve been feeling for the past six months?”

Blaine’s head whips up. “Six months? You just said you just realized you loved me five minutes ago!”

“Right, yeah, but I realized I had feelings for you six months ago. You know, when you told me you were over me.”

Blaine stares at him, eyes wide in disbelief. “Are you fucking serious?” Kurt winces at Blaine’s volume, but Blaine continues with, “You didn’t realize you had feelings for me until I told you I was over you? Until I made myself unavailable? Kurt, do you realize how fucked up that sounds?”

“I know, I know, and that’s why I haven’t said anything!” Kurt says. “Because I couldn’t bear the thought of telling you I liked you if it wasn’t for real. I can’t… I still can’t bear the thought of hurting you again. Which is so stupid, since I’m clearly hurting you now.”

Blaine shakes his head. “This is unbelievable. Of all the ways I pictured this happening…”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt groans, hanging his head in shame. “I’m fucking this all up, I know. I should have waited, got you flowers, taken you out to dinner, or something, I don’t know… I was watching you walk away, and I suddenly remembered all these moments in my life, all these moments where you were there for me, all these huge moments where all I wanted was to be next to you, to make you feel better, to never cause you pain. And as I thought about all that, I realized that Mercedes was right. I did have my head up my ass.”

“Kurt, this is the worst declaration of love in the world.”

“Fuck, I know,” Kurt brings his hands up to his forehead, taking Blaine’s with him. “And I totally understand if you want to tell me to screw off after all of this. I do, I get it. But Blaine, the fear I had? That I didn’t like you for real? It was so stupid. Like, really, so goddamn stupid.”

Blaine’s fingers squirm in his hands, and Kurt gently lets go. Blaine instantly re-takes his hands, though, this time holding them in a more comfortable position. Kurt stares at Blaine in surprise, and Blaine just rolls his eyes and says, “Well, don’t stop now!”

“Right, sorry.” He clears his throat. “God, I really should have thought this through better.”

“Kurt.” His voice is slightly softer than before, and it gives Kurt a little hope that maybe he hasn’t completely fucked this up.

“Yes, yes. Look, Blaine, I was so worried that I was just projecting my loneliness onto you. I didn’t want that. I’ve hurt you so much over the years, that I couldn’t bear to actually give us a chance, only to realize that the feelings weren’t really there. So, I kept my mouth shut, and have spent the last six months practically burying my head in the sand. I didn’t want to think about it, because I was so scared that if I really thought about it I would realize it wasn’t real. But in hindsight… Jesus Christ, that was stupid. I was so concerned with hurting you again if I didn’t really have feelings for you, that I totally ignored the fact that purposefully ignoring my feelings for you would hurt you just as much.”

He looks down at their connected hands, then back up to Blaine. “I’m sorry, I’m royally screwing this up. You deserve so much better than this. You deserve so much better than me. You deserve someone who doesn’t push feelings away because they might lead to pain. You deserve someone who actually realizes they love you when they fall for you, not years after the fact.”

“Years?” Blaine asks, breathless.

“Yeah, Blaine. Years. I can’t… don’t ask me to pinpoint a specific moment, but when I think about it, it’s so damn obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t realize before.”

“Well, you did have your head pretty far up your ass.”

Kurt drops his head again, unable to help himself from laughing self-deprecatingly. “It was so far up there I’m surprised I don’t have colon problems.”

“Ew, Kurt,” Blaine’s face scrunches up. “Don’t talk about your colon. You’re confessing your love to me, come on.”

Kurt smiles sadly at him. “I’m sorry. I can’t even do this right. I don’t… I totally understand if you want to tell me to screw off.”

“Kurt, I’m not – god,” Blaine shakes his head, and for the first time since they’ve come outside, Kurt thinks he sees a hint of a smile on Blaine’s face. “I’ve loved you for almost twelve years. I’m not going to tell you to screw off now that you’re saying you love me back.” Blaine squeezes their hands tight, but then quickly adds, “Even if you said it in basically the worst, least romantic way possible.”

“Christ,” Kurt groans. “Why am I so damn bad at this?”

“Who knows,” Blaine says, and he’s definitely got a small, soft smile on his face now.

Kurt licks his lips, then says, “I know you said you don’t want to tell me to screw off, but I also understand if you need time to process all of this. I won’t be mad if you decide that I’ve made you wait too long, or that you really are over me.”

“Over you?” Blaine shakes his head. “Kurt, I think we both know by now that if I was going to get over you, I would have long ago.”

“But that phone call—”

“That phone call was made in a drunken stupor, after listening to my friends shit-talk you for over an hour. I was pissed, and feeling self-righteous, and too drunk to stop myself from doing something stupid.” Blaine shrugs, as though it’s nothing. “You didn’t seriously think that I was over you after that phone call, right?”

“Um, yes,” Kurt says, raising a confused eyebrow. “You told me that you were the morning after.”

“Well, what was I supposed to say? Things always get so awkward when I mention my feelings for you. Exhibit A, this entire conversation.”

“I don’t feel awkward.”

Blaine frowns. “Really?”

Kurt shakes his head easily. “Do you?”

Blaine shrugs. “A little. I think mostly because I don’t really know what to think.”

Kurt chews on his bottom lip, then hesitantly asks, “Are you still mad at me?”

“Kind of,” Blaine admits. “Not as much as I was at the beginning of the conversation.”

“But you’re not going to tell me to screw off?”

Blaine snorts. “Kurt, are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for this day for twelve years. Even if I was literally spitting mad, I wouldn’t tell you to screw off.”

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” Kurt whispers. “I can’t even imagine… god, how do you not hate me?”

“Kurt, I can’t think of a single thing that you could do that would make me genuinely hate you.”

Kurt just raises a skeptical eyebrow. “What if I murdered Cooper?”

“Oh, my god, Kurt, seriously, you are absolutely terrible at this. How have you gotten anybody to go out with you, ever?” Blaine laughs as he says it, though, and Kurt can’t help but smile.

“Well, usually I’m not the one doing the asking out, or confessions of love.”

Blaine’s laughter dies down, and he swings their hands gently. “To be fair, I have confessed my love for you about twenty-five times already. It was your turn.”

“I really messed it up, huh?”

Blaine shrugs. “Well, yeah. But I’ll give you another chance.”

Kurt perks up at that. “You will?”

Blaine nods. He looks Kurt over, and then, voice quieter, asks, “You’re definitely sure, though? That you love me?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Because this won’t be a fling to me. And it’s going to be intense, like, from day one.”

“I know, Blaine.”

“Once we do this, there’s no turning back. If you do change your mind and realize you don’t love me, I’m going to be so angry, Kurt.”

“I know,” Kurt assures again, stepping closer into Blaine’s space. “I know.”

“Because I love you, Kurt. I want to be with you, for real, and forever. I know that’s a lot, and if you were anybody else I would never say this, but… but this is the real deal for me. I’m not stepping into a ‘let’s see where this goes’ kind of situation. I already know where I want this to go, and if you don’t feel the same—”

“I do,” Kurt says. “I know this hasn’t been as dramatic as Cooper proposing to Rachel without even dating, but I promise that this isn’t just a fling for me. I was never really a fan of those, anyway.”

“You’ve had so many, though,” Blaine says, as though he can’t stop himself.

“Not that many,” Kurt defends, feeling his cheeks redden.

“It’s felt like an eternal amount.”

“Well, regardless, I’m done with that now,” Kurt says, not wanting to get sucked in to some tangent. Not when they’re finally getting somewhere. “I want to be with you, Blaine.” Blaine’s bottom lip trembles, and Kurt instantly says, “I’m sorry, oh my god, please don’t cry,” as a few stray tears leak out of his eyes.

“These aren’t sad tears,” Blaine says, voice slightly choked up. “I promise, these are happy tears. Kurt, I genuinely thought this day was never going to come.” He lets go of one of Kurt’s hands, bringing his own hand up to wipe away a tear. “I knew that if I said anything today, it would be the last time. I really was done. I don’t know if I’d ever have truly gotten over you, but I was going to give up the tiny sliver of hope I always held on to. This was it. I just needed to hear you say you couldn’t love me one last time, as stupid as that sounds.” He shakes his head. “And then you followed me out here, and I thought, well, you’re getting what you wanted Anderson, but it hurt so much more than I thought. That’s why I was so defensive, and I—I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore, I just can’t believe that this is happening.” He sniffs. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to hear you say those words.”

“I love you?” Kurt asks hesitantly.

Blaine shakes his head. “I’ve heard you say that a thousand times,” he says. “No, ‘I want to be with you’.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, stomach dropping to his feet. “Blaine…”

“No, not now. No more sorry’s, okay? Today has been crazy enough.”

“It really has,” Kurt says. Then, he straightens himself up a little, and says, “So, do I get some time to prepare for my second confession of love, or do you want me to do it right now? Because, fair warning, my mind is working pretty fast, and I can’t promise that there won’t be more colon talk.”

Blaine smiles up at him through his tears, then says, “You can have some time.”

“How about until tomorrow evening?” Kurt asks. “You’re not busy, right?”

Blaine shakes his head. “Only thing on my calendar is watering Cooper and Rachel’s plants.”

“Good. Then come over, and I’ll give you a confession of love so amazing, you won’t even be able to believe it.”

“I already can’t.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, smiling as he asks, “Really? Because I haven’t given you much today to imply that I am any good at this.”

“You forget that I’ve known you for longer than just today,” Blaine says, grinning up at Kurt.

“So true,” Kurt hums. He looks down at Blaine, considering him for a moment, then asks, “So, you’re not mad at me anymore?”

Blaine shrugs. “Still a little bit, but the happiness is winning out.”

“So, if I ask if I can kiss you…”

Blaine grins and, before Kurt can have the decency to actually ask, he leans up and presses their lips together.

This kiss is unlike any they’ve shared in the past. Butterflies erupt in Kurt’s stomach as their lips meet, and this time he moves deeper into the kiss instead of pulling away. Blaine’s lips are just as soft as he knew they would be, and he takes his free hand and brings it up to Blaine’s jaw, tipping it up so he can kiss him better.

They part softly, Blaine staring up at Kurt like he placed the moon in the sky. Kurt wonders if Blaine can see in his own eyes how much he adores Blaine. If Blaine thinks Kurt put the moon in the sky, then Kurt is sure that Blaine must have placed the sun.

“Wow,” Blaine whispers. “That was…”

“Good?”

“So worth the wait,” Blaine replies, then tilts his head back up and connects their lips in another absolutely perfect kiss.

The End

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

13 Keys to the White House

I hate politics with a burning passion. The whole subject just makes me depressed and stressed, but like a moth to the flame I find myself unable to escape it. My politics posts were topical and relatively popular during the lead up to the 2020 election, but things have quieted down considerably a we adjust to the new normal under a sane but useless president. For this reason, I've decided that the best way to spend my time is to try and make prediction about 2024, because it makes me feel like I have some semblance of control over my life when in reality these things are well out of my hands.

Allan Lichtman is a political analyst who has correctly predicted every presidential election since 1984, and working backwards his method correctly accounts for every election since 1860; with the only hiccup being 2000 when he predicted Al Gore would win (by all rights he did; he won the popular vote and he would have won the Florida recount if George W. Bush's brother hadn't illegally stopped it and delayed it until it was too late to restart).

Lichtman gives 13 yes or no statements to assess the performance of the incumbent party over the last four years, and has determined that if eight or more are true then the incumbent party wins another term. If six or more are false, the challenging party wins instead. From Wikipedia they are:

Midterm gains: After the midterm elections, the incumbent party holds more seats in the U.S. House of Representatives than after the previous midterm elections.

No primary contest: There is no serious contest for the incumbent party nomination.

Incumbent seeking re-election: The incumbent party candidate is the sitting president.

No third party: There is no significant third party or independent campaign.

Strong short-term economy: The economy is not in recession during the election campaign.

Strong long-term economy: Real per capita economic growth during the term equals or exceeds mean growth during the previous two terms.

Major policy change: The incumbent administration effects major changes in national policy.

No social unrest: There is no sustained social unrest during the term.

No scandal: The incumbent administration is untainted by major scandal.

No foreign/military failure: The incumbent administration suffers no major failure in foreign or military affairs.

Major foreign/military success: The incumbent administration achieves a major success in foreign or military affairs.

Charismatic incumbent: The incumbent party candidate is charismatic or a national hero.

Uncharismatic challenger: The challenging party candidate is not charismatic or a national hero.

In 2020 the chips fell thusly:

False: the Democrats won more seat in 2018 than the Republicans in 2014

True: Trump was the only Republican candidate, and in fact many states canceled their primaries to give it to him

True: Trump was running for another term

True: the libertarians and the greens didn't get nearly as much air time as they did in 2016

False: Covid recession

False: Trump dug a hole so deep it'll take us years to crawl our way back out of it

True: McConnell's court packing scheme, 3 justices, America First foreign policy, sucking up to dictators, alienating our allies

False: George Floyd protests

False: too many to name

True: not failing doesn't necessarily mean succeeding

False: case in point, he didn't accomplish any of his goals like ending the war in Afghanistan or disarming North Korea

False: although his base worships him as the second coming of Christ, they only make up 40% of the country, and the other 60% HATES him

True: Biden is a boring old man that both right-wingers hate and progressive leftists hate. Only moderates and centrists really like him

That's 6 true and 7 false. Trump needed 8 true to win, so Lichtman called it for Biden in summer. While we can make some assumptions about the future, we can't predict everything, so there will be a lot of unknowns that prevent us from drawing solid conclusions. I'll update this post as time goes on; we should have a fairly solid picture by early 2023 after the midterms.

Almost certainly false: the Democrats are hanging on by a thread as is, and 2022 will see dozens of competitive House seats redrawn by Republican to give themselves an advantage going forward. I'm pretty sure the Republicans will take back the House, but even if they don't there's no way the Democrats will manage to hang onto as many seats in 2022 as they won in 2018 (235)

Probably true: to hear Biden tell it, he's a spring chicken at the top of his game and wholeheartedly intends to run for re-election in 2024. I give it 50/50 odds that he bows out due to declining health and gives it to Kamala Harris, but either way they have the nomination in the bag. Nobody is going to challenge Biden, and nobody serious will challenge Harris.

Unknown: see above

Unknown: this one is leaning towards true, but it's too soon to tell. We think of third-party candidates as being fringe, but they played major roles in 1980, 1992, 1996, 2000, and 2016. I don't expect the networks to give as much airtime to the libertarians and the greens as they did in 2016, but then again all the media outlets made off like bandits during the Trump years. Love him or hate him, he made them a shit load of money, and helping a third-party campaign will ensure another candidate like Trump gets elected

Probably true: it'll be hard for Biden to fuck things up more than they are now. I don't think we'll see ANOTHER recession in less than 4 years, but then again we thought the Great Recession of 2008 would be a once-in-a-lifetime event.

Absolutely true: Obama's second term was prosperous, Trump's term put us deep in the red, so they average out to neutral; as long as Biden can do better than literally nothing, he has this one in the bag.

I don't think so: 2021 was the Democrats' best chance at changing things, but they fumbled like we all expected them to. They have majroties in both houses of Congress and could conceivably railroad through any legislation they want, as Trump did in his first 2 years, but no, they want to play fair, they want to be bipartisan. They extend an olive branch when the other side wouldn't piss on them to put them out if they were on fire. None of Biden's campaign promises will get done.

Probably true: I don't think things can get worse than 2020. Biden is, if nothing else, inoffensive. Republicans are trying to make him out as this socialist boogeyman, but nothing really sticks because he is nearly economically identical to Trump (both party establishments are economically neoliberal). If we were going to go to war, it would have been last year. I don't think there's anything Biden can do to screw things up that badly.

Probably: like I said, Biden is boring, which means he's not take any risks. I think even he has sense enough to realize that the entire country is watching him with a magnifying glass, waiting for him to make any mistake. He's playing it as safe as possible with relative transparency, so I don't see him doing anything shadier than any other president. If the Republicans take back the House they might impeach him as revenge for Trump, but he'll be acquitted and public opinion will probably be on his side.

Unknown: Democrats love to fumble, so this one's up in the air

Unknown: pulling out of Afghanistan might be a success, but the Taliban will just retake control once we're gone and it'll be back to square one. It'll be this generation's Vietnam; a 20 year long waste of time that we ended up losing. I'm still not convicned the withdrawal will even go through.

False: Lichtman didn't call Biden charismatic in 2020, I know for a fact he won't suddenly become MORE popular by 2024. Hes boring. If he didn't run and gave it to Kamala Harris I still don't see this flipping true. She has more energy, sure, but she's disingenuous at best and a two-faced enemy of the revolution at worst. She's a cop.

True: calling it now, nobody the Republicans choose will have national appeal. Lichtman noted that these last two keys are incredibly subjective, but you know it when you see it. For his definition of charisma he cites presidents like Teddy Roosevelt, FDR, JFK, Ronald Reagan, and Barack Obama (2008 Obama, not 2012 Obama; the novelty wore off real quick and we realized he was the Republicans' doormat and a war criminal). If Trump tries for a second term, he'll be even less popular then than he is now, and none of his underlings inspire as much confidence in the party. Ron DeSantis, my state's governor, appears to be the front runner of non-Trumps, but he's so dumb he makes that whole family look like a Rhodes Scholars. America is so divided that I don't think there will ever be another super charismatic candidate with bipartisan appeal.

That's 3 false, 4 unknown, and 6 true. Biden needs 8 true to win a second term, but he has plenty of unknown keys which would turn in his favor. Even Trump avoided a major foreign policy failure, so I'm sure Biden can cinch that key, bringing him up to 7. That and the third-party key seem the most likely to flip true, meaning Biden will probably win, though I could very well see this becoming a repeat of 2000 and 2016 where he wins the popular vote and loses the electoral college. In that case, I expect civil unrest going into whatever Republican's term, verging on total civil war.

One-term wonders are exceedingly rare. Trump was a historically weak candidate who only won because of low voter turnout in Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania. He saw an Alabama senate seat flip blue, as well as all four seats in Arizona and Georgia, he lost the house and the senate in quick succession, and was impeached twice. He was a loser through and through, and I don't think he'll be coming back.

At least I certainly hope so.