#Spring in Kiel

[ghoermann]

Spring in Kiel

[botanischer-garten-kiel]

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Homepage Lines - Masumi’s Birthday (2025)

graphics and proofreading by myuntachis!

text version under the cut!

Spring Troupe

Sakuya: I’m glad I got to do RomiJuli with you, Masumi-kun. You’re the only Julius for me, after all.

Masumi: Nothing makes me happier than the birthday wishes I get from you. I’ll love you forever…

Tsuzuru: Masumi, happy birthday. If you want my help writing another fan letter to the Director, I’m willing to give it any time.

Itaru: Masumi challenged me to a game again… Seems like he’s a gamer fr now. Welcome to the dark side.

Citron: I will be calling dibs on the backseat of Masumi’s car♪ Oh, you cannot, cannot possibly get a two-seater!

Chikage: Happy birthday. Whenever I see your magic skills improve, I put myself in Peten’s shoes as he watches over Kiel.

Summer Troupe

Tenma: I got tickets to a music festival, so I’ll give them to you. They’re pair tickets, and all.

Yuki: I’ll try thinking of a few mature date outfits for Masumi. I bet that’ll make him happy.

Muku: I looked into some mature, heart-throbbing things for Masumi-kun! I hope he’ll use them one day.

Misumi: Let’s go out, Masumi! Madoka found a nice triangle place to take a nap at~

Kazunari: Massu~, it’s dope how well you’re getting the hang of your job~! Can’t lose to that!

Kumon: Are you writing a fan letter for the Director? Can I write one with you? For Nii-chan!

Autumn Troupe

Banri: Masumi’s promotional strategies are actually goin’ surprisingly well, huh. Especially on social media… I’m lookin’ forward to seeing what else he’s got up his sleeve.

Juza: You used up the letter set I got you in a flash last time, so this time I got you double the amount.

Taichi: I got lots of love charms for you, Masumi-kun! Let’s try ‘em out ASAP!

Omi: Here’s a cake and some spring rolls. … That’s too many? C’mon, don’t you have a certain someone to share them with?

Sakyo: Usui, happy birthday. Keep supporting the company as its promotional staff. … I’m countin’ on you.

Azami: I got you some UV arm sleeves. They’ll help prevent you from getting sunburned while driving.

Winter Troupe

Tsumugi: Your magic is amazing, Masumi-kun. Let’s do a Street ACT involving magic again, if you’d like.

Tasuku: It feels as though Usui’s acting’s gotten even better. Maybe I should invite him to a Street ACT every once a while.

Hisoka: I’ll give Masumi a fluffy cushion since he’s working hard on lots of things. This will help him sleep even better.

Homare: I have prepared a brand-new collection of love poems this year. Fufu, I can just picture Masumi-kun’s overjoyed face♪

Azuma: Your approach to love has changed compared to how it used to be. I think that's a wonderful thing.

Guy: I’ve reserved Journey for the two of you. Feel free to go there if you would like to be alone together.

[fools-gambit-fic]

Chapter Six: Out of Our Depth

(Read on AO3)

"Clorica doesn't have her break for a few hours, and I get terribly bored this time of day."

Chapter Six: Out of Our Depth

     It wasn't until the next day—when the shock had worn off, and he was confronted with Vishnal's still, pale form—that Leon felt the full impact of what he had done.

     This can't be right.

     (I only wanted to scare him a little.)

     And, as Clorica had so bluntly pointed out, it seemed he had.  Of course, in the process, he had also laid him out in bed with a badly sprained ankle and wrist, several pulled muscles, and a gruesome stapled gash on his thigh.

     Though he'd meant no real harm, this was all Leon's doing, and it was apparently now his responsibility to make it right.

     Trouble was, there didn't seem to be terribly much he could do.

     After a rather melancholic breakfast with Kiel, Leon would make his way through the mocking splendor of the spring morning and arrive at the palace, where Vishnal lay like the incorruptible bodies of legend on their stately biers.  Once there, he would stand for a moment in the doorway—to prepare himself mentally, and to make sure the arc of ribs was still rising and falling steadily beneath the bedsheets—then step into the nose-stinging fug of sharp disinfectant and tinny blood.

     He would politely ask permission—a mere formality to assuage his own guilt, as Vishnal wasn't present enough to grant or deny—then turn back the covers to expose the stained white bandages.  Once the shivering stopped, he would take up the shears, snip through the gauze, and confront the wound.

     By now, he was reasonably certain that it really did look worse than it was.

     But that did nothing to change the fact that it looked terrible.

     The worst part, by far, was the staples.  There was a good reason for them to be there, and Leon had already seen what the injury looked like without them, but he still couldn't shake the thought that this was no different than unwrapping Vishnal's leg to find it stuck with needles and pins.  What's more, their insertion had mangled his flesh even further, and the flaky blackened-red seam was ringed with lurid bruising, the deep mushed purple of fermenting Dusk Plums.

     Gods in heaven, am I ever sorry.

     With the initial crisis now passed, everyone was mostly taking things in stride, and Leon had heard a number of nervously lighthearted remarks about how nothing good could have ever come of someone as eager and clumsy as Vishnal running around with a sword in each hand.  And though this probably wasn't untrue, Leon could not forget the fact that, had he not leapt out from the treeline that day with his fierce halberd and silly homemade mask, nothing quite this bad would have come of it, either.

     And now it had, all from a moment's playful impulse.

     He couldn't take it back.

     He couldn't laugh it off.

     Even if he were to swallow his pride and give in to sincere contrition, he couldn't fix it.

     All he could do was clean the wound, apply fresh gauze, and wait.  Adjust the covers until Vishnal stopped shivering, and get him to drink a few sips of something sugary through a straw.  Listen to the injured man's murmured reassurances that everything was just fine between them, and bite back the urge to shout that it certainly was not.  Then finally head home and sit with the realization that, for all the careless mistakes he'd made, he hadn't previously known how contrition even felt.

     As it turned out, it felt horrible.

     It felt like exactly what he deserved.

     And yet, for all their well-deserved horrors, those first agonizing days were easier than what was to follow.  Mainly because—though Vishnal cut a stomach-twistingly pitiful figure as he draped limply on the bed—there was something to say for one's patient being quiet and still.

     "Do you have to do it now?"

     Leon already had the shears, but Vishnal was still curled up petulantly in bed, the covers clutched in one fist and drawn up to his chin.  With a sigh of frustration, Leon absent-mindedly snipped at the air, hoping to send the message that he would cut Vishnal right out of his bedamned cocoon if it came to that.

     "Yep.  Twice a day.  You know what they said."

     Vishnal huffed as he threw off the covers with his good hand.

     "...Fine.  Just work quickly.  I'm freezing."

     Kneeling at the bedside, Leon waited once more for the shivering to quell.

     "Oh, no you aren't.  Summer's on the way.  I haven't even been using a blanket these past few nights."

     With a heavy sigh, Vishnal sank into the pillows, obviously trying to look as pathetic as possible in a vain attempt to elicit mercy.

     "Well, Jones said I would probably be anemic for a bit."

     Completely unmoved, Leon began snipping through the bandages.

     "...And Nancy said you could get an infection if we slack off on this, so stop complaining."

     Vishnal crossed his arms sulkily.

     "Very well, then."

     Peeling back the bandages, Leon scrutinized the wound closely.  He was supposed to alert Jones and Nancy if it seemed redder, wetter, or puffier than it had been, but everything seemed to be in good order to his eyes.  The surrounding skin was turning a sickly yellow-green, but that seemed to be nothing more than the typical gruesome metamorphosis of any healing bruise.

     "Still looks fine to me...  No fevers or anything?"

     Another pitiful sigh.

     "I don't think so...  I was worried last night and had Clorica get me the thermometer, but I was just cold."

     Though he didn't want to react and give Vishnal the satisfaction, the spike of guilt Leon felt upon hearing that was almost physically painful.  It was awful enough that Vishnal was so badly injured, and he didn't like being reminded that the entire household had been disrupted by his stupidity.

     (...You have a way of doing that, don't you?)

     Leon rolled his eyes as he unwrapped Vishnal's wrist and opened the squat jar of salve that had been sitting on the nightstand.

     "Okay, okay, I get the hint, already.  You'll have your blankets back as soon as I'm done."

     With that, he grabbed a clean rag and the bottle of disinfectant, beginning the work that required two hands as Vishnal took on what he could manage with one.

     "You're too kind."

     Vishnal carefully dipped the fingertips of his good hand into the jar and began massaging his injured wrist, which had now gone the same nauseous necrotic green as the skin around the gash, over which Leon cautiously hovered with the dampened rag.

     "...Just don't scream this time.  I'm not actually hurting you, and it freaks out your crazy boss."

     Vishnal gritted his teeth, bracing himself and glaring at Leon crossly.

     "Mr. Volkanon isn't crazy!  He just cares for us!  But yes.  I'll try my best.  Go on."

     Leon began dabbing at the wound, wiping away the crusty blood as a strangled sound of pain keened in Vishnal's taut throat.

     "See?  That's not so bad."

     After another brief detour to unwrap Vishnal's ankle—also bruised a rather distressing color, dead blood seeping from countless internal ruptures—Leon patted the wound dry as Vishnal slipped a hand into his robe to rub salve into his sore lower back and hip.

     "Speak for yourself."

     The salve was actually rather interesting stuff; containing all the expected herbs that had been in use since Leon's time, as well as the blessing of Venti's divine breath, the powerful energies of which promoted rapid healing.  All three butlers swore by it for the various aches and pains their work engendered, and the hope was that liberal applications would soon get Vishnal back on his feet.

     Leon laughed as he set about the awkward work of wrapping Vishnal's thigh as Vishnal folded double to apply a generous dab to his ankle.

     "Don't need to.  You've been speaking enough for both of us."

     The balm applied, Vishnal crossed his arms again and reclined sullenly on the pillows.

     "Yes, yes, you're very clever.  Give me back my blanket."

     With the gauze in place, Leon began winding the cloth bandage snugly around Vishnal's ankle.

     "Be patient, would you?"

     Seeing little harm in gently taking out his frustrations, Leon tucked the bandage neatly, then grabbed the blanket and bluntly tossed it over Vishnal's entire body, up to and including his head.  Vishnal—warm at last—simply lay there agreeably as Leon fished out his injured hand and began carefully wrapping that as well.

     When he was finished, Vishnal drew his hand under the covers, then pulled them down to the bridge of his nose.

     "...All done?"

     Leon dusted off his hands, getting his feet under him in preparation to spring nimbly up from the floor.

     "Yep.  See you again after dinner."

     With an urgentness that stunned both of them, Vishnal's good hand snatched at Leon's wrist.

     "No!  Wait!"

     Though he was currently situated in a rather awkward squat, Leon froze in place.

     "...Huh?"

     Vishnal rolled onto his side, pulling the covers down to his neck.

     "If you don't have plans, you can stay here if you'd like...  Clorica doesn't have her break for a few hours, and I get terribly bored this time of day."

     His mouth said "bored," but his eyes said "lonely," in a silent voice so insistent that it made Leon's heart ache.  Finding himself unable to refuse, Leon settled on the floor again and crossed his arms on the mattress with what even he knew was a pathetically affected facsimile of casualness.

     "Oh...  Yeah, I'm free.  Anything you want to do?"

     It was a silly question, because there wasn't much Vishnal could do, besides shrug dejectedly under his hard-won blanket.

     "Talk, I suppose."

     It was a simple enough request, and Leon answered it with a shrug of his own.

     "Okay.  Guess I can do that."

     At first, he was unsure of what to talk about, but eventually figured that you can never go wrong with a funny story.  And while Leon had many of those, he'd found that most of them required a lot of explanation in this day and age.  It would probably be best to begin with something a little more recent.

     And so, throwing discretion to the wind, he began to tell the scandalous tale of the night he left the Bell Hotel.

~*~

     Kiel carefully settled on the edge of the bed, passing Vishnal the rumpled, slightly warm paper bag he'd been carrying.

     "Hey there!  I can't stay long, but I figured I'd drop off something nice you can eat with one hand!"

     Vishnal carefully unrolled the top of the bag and inspected its contents; obviously trying to remain dignified but unable to fully contain his enthusiasm at discovering a fresh pile of curry manju, yolk-yellow and smoothly plump.

     "Oh my, you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble...  Thank you very much, though!"

     Kiel, too, was playing it cool; shrugging casually, glowing on the inside with the simple pleasure of making a friend happy.

     "No trouble at all!  I made curry for dinner last night, so I had the filling all ready."

     Vishnal reached into the bag with his good hand, passing one of the buns to Kiel before taking one for himself.

     "Here.  Have one too, for all your hard work."

     For a moment, Kiel wavered.  Eating something intended as a gift felt silly, and he'd already left a few buns at home for himself and Leon to enjoy.  But Vishnal's smile was so gentle and sincere that it felt impolite to refuse, so he eventually accepted the bun gratefully.

     "Oh, I shouldn't, I'm going to go home and start dinner in a few minutes...  But what the hey, right?"

     Raising his manju in a gesture of friendly camaraderie, Vishnal smiled and took a hearty bite.

     "Right!"

     Kiel delicately picked off a bit of the springy dough, letting the steam vent.

     "How is it...?"

     Vishnal swallowed with a gasp.

     "...Spicy!"

     Seeing his friend's pallid face flush slightly, Kiel felt a rush of panic.

     "I'm so sorry! I guess I just got too used to cooking for Leon!  You don't ha-"

     Vishnal murmured reverently into the remains of his steaming snack.

     "...It's perfect..."

     Kiel sighed, profoundly relieved that poor Vishnal hadn't been accidentally injured by two hapless morons this week.

     "...Oh.  Good."

     Then he dipped the bit of dough into a rivulet of hot filling that had begun to ooze over the edge, popping it into his mouth and noting that it was quite spicy, but certainly not inedibly so.  He smiled as he quietly ate, watching as Vishnal did the same.

     Nothing we can't handle!

     When Vishnal arrived at the palace, Kiel almost immediately found a sense of comfort and belonging in simply being around him.  He felt that they were kindred souls; the same sort of lost boy trying very hard to be a better man, the same sense of noble heredity passing them by.  One believing he wasn't clever enough to be a doctor, the other knowing he was too weak to be a Knight.

     Both left to forge their own path to greatness, no matter how long it took.

     "...May I have another?"

     Kiel had no doubt that they would get there someday.  And in the meantime, they would simply keep everything in order.

     "Vishnal...  They're yours."

     Vishnal laughed nervously, then shyly reached into the bag and removed a second bun.

     "...Right."

     He bit into this one less frantically, obviously determined to savor it as fully as he could.  Kiel smiled at his efforts as he stood from the bed.

     "Welp!  You're not the only hungry person I'm responsible for.  I gotta head home."

     Pausing briefly to swallow, Vishnal nodded cheerfully as he reclined back against the headboard.

     "Of course.  See you soon."

     Kiel waved brightly as he backed out of the room

     "See ya!"

     Then—after a brief but polite bow to Lady Ventuswill—he stepped out into the gilded early evening light, Cerezo blossoms blowing across the cobbles and swirling around his boots.

     It was the kind of day that made him feel like things really would come right; that there was a clear path for him after all, and he needed only to wait for it to reveal itself.  As long as he stayed the course and kept on believing, it was probably inevitable.

     But first...  What's for dinner?

     Kiel scratched his head thoughtfully as he strolled toward home.  All of the solid bits from last night's curry had made it into the buns, but there was still a good deal of leftover sauce that was too good to waste.

     Hmm, that would probably be good on some potato croquettes...

     The young man's mouth watered at the very thought of it, so it seemed he had a winning idea.

     And a salad, and some roasted turnips...  And of course you have to have dessert...

    Fully immersed in his menu planning as he was, Kiel ended up walking clear past his own house.  Feeling a bit silly, but not embarrassingly so, he broke into a run as he backtracked, which segued into a gutsy running hop onto the front steps.

     ...Strawberry upside-down cake!  It's a fun project to do together, too!

     Leon, much like Kiel, had quite the appetite for fun projects.  And uncommon knowledge, and complicated games, and books of riddles.  Keeping him entertained enough to stay out of trouble could be a challenge—and one that he had initially failed rather spectacularly, hence Vishnal's current predicament—but the fact that they were entertained by many of the same things meant that the effort enriched Kiel's life as well.

     "Hey, Leon!  I'm about to get started on dinner, but if you want a little appetizer, I also m-"

     But Leon, it seemed, had already discovered the manju.  He was sprawled belly-up on the floor with their favorite book of ghost stories in one hand, a half-eaten bun in the other, and his feet lazily propped on the short steps that led up to the kitchen.

     Kiel stepped over him with a warm smile and a fond shake of the head.

     For so long, he had seen Leon as the embodiment of everything he had ever wanted to be, a goal that kept him striving forward not in spite of its obvious unattainability, but because of it.  Even if Kiel couldn't do it, there was at least living proof that it could be done.

     It's different when you know him better, isn't it?

     It wasn't as though Leon had lost his glamor.

     It was that Kiel had come to see in him not only what he longed to be, but so much of what he already was.

~*~

     Even through those first half-conscious days, one thought was crystal-clear in the dim haze of Vishnal's mind.

     "He can't be here.  I can't bear it."

     In truth, he wasn't really sure why Leon was there, but it didn't really matter.  In his rare lucid moments, the whole of his being was occupied only with thoughts of how terrible it was for this man he so admired to see him this way; weak, muddled, ungroomed, unable to do anything for himself or anyone else.  Even if Vishnal had been at his best, the constant proximity surely would have been enough to drive him mad.

     But, by the time the fog lifted, something strange had happened.

     "I like having him around."

     There was still a bit of awkwardness as they bumped up against each other; Leon clearly unused to this sort of caretaking, Vishnal cranky from fatigue and unused to being cared for.  But their rapport, for the most part, was surprisingly easy.  Leon made Vishnal laugh, and Vishnal's more irrational moments were accepted by Leon as a friendly challenge.  Every meal and dressing change saw them growing closer, both palpably delighted to discover just how much they enjoyed one another's company.

     Even the constant physical contact that their situation required—once a heart-pounding, head-spinning prospect for Vishnal to even contemplate—soon became ordinary and natural.  There was still a pleasant surge at the sensation of those elegant, corded bronze hands on his body, but Vishnal was rather impressed by his own ability to keep it together under those conditions.

     He didn't even blush when dressing the gash on his leg sent those adept hands dangerously high on his thigh.

     And so it was that Leon became a balm to, rather than the cause of, Vishnal's dismal misery.

     But still, he could only do so much.

     The physical pain was a trial, to be sure, but that wasn't the worst of it.  Vishnal was well-accustomed to pain; prone to knocks and bruises and repetitive strain injuries, constantly pushing beyond his own limits and being harshly punished for transgressing against himself.

     Pain, at the end of the day, was only pain.

     The worst was when he heard Clorica and Volkanon shuffling around the palace, each doing the work of one and a half men.  Or when the morning sun glanced off his blades, unused on their rack.  Or when he remembered his leek seedlings, abandoned in the field.  Both Leon and Clorica swore up and down that they wouldn't allow them to wither, but Vishnal privately wondered if he could even enter them in the contest now, or if that would be dishonest.

     Vishnal despised dishonestly.

     But he despised ineffectiveness most of all.

     Leon, to his credit, was putting up with him heroically.

     "You're overwatering!"

     Though still too injured to be of much use, Vishnal was now able to sit upright for quite a long time without getting lightheaded and needing to lie back down, so he had insisted on being hauled outside and placed on the cool stone steps of the Castle, where he could supervise Leon's novice attempts at gardening.

     Leon, he suspected, was beginning to regret this.

     "I'm doing it like you said."

     Vishnal winced as the water poured carelessly from the can, a tragi-comedically perfect manifestation of his own lack of control.

     "I don't think you understood what I said!"

    With an irritated huff, Leon sat the can in the mud and folded his arms crossly.

     "...Do you want me to carry you out here so you can do this?"

     What Vishnal wanted, of course, was to be whole and strong.  As far as he was concerned, this conversation shouldn't even be happening.

     "Yes!  Well, no...  Maybe?  I expect we'd have to change my bandages again...  Would that be too much of a bother?  Oh, of course it would, never mind..."

     The irritated note in Leon's voice rose to outright snappishness.

     "...Well!?"

     It made Vishnal jump, less from shock than from how it so perfectly mirrored his own feelings; two instruments suddenly playing the same note, so loud and off-key that it was impossible to distinguish them.

     It jarred his bones.

     It made him want to cry.

     "Just...  Do what feels right.  I'll close my eyes."

     Vishnal slumped, burying his face in his hands so as not to see the mess Leon was making of his little plot of Earth, and to hide his nascent stinging tears.  He kept his ears open, though; biting his tongue so he wouldn't protest when the wet patter of droplets became a sloppy deluge, wincing at the sting in his dripping sinuses.

     You've said enough already.

     (He's getting so sick of you.)

     Well, that makes two of us, doesn't it?

     Much to Vishnal's relief, the pounding racket of water stopped, and he soon became aware of a warm, heavy hand on his shoulder.

     "...Hey, what gives?  You've been a royal pain in the ass all morning."

     Vishnal glanced to the side and regarded Leon through a crack in his fingers.  How could he even begin to answer that question?  How could he tell his friend what was wrong when, clearly, everything was wrong?  And why should he have to, when it was so plainly obvious?

     The only dignified thing to do was stay quiet, but Vishnal horrified himself by blurting out an answer anyway.

     "It's laundry day."

     Even more horrifying, he heard his voice thicken and break.  Here, in front of this achingly perfect man, who had probably never cried in his life.

     You're ridiculous.

     (You're disgusting.)

     Leon, thankfully, seemed less disgusted than confused.

     "Oh.  Dire straits indeed."

     Vishnal sniffed back his tears, roughly wiping his eyes on the sleeves of his robe.

     "I had to lie there and listen to them do it all themselves.  I...  I couldn't help...  And then Clorica was out there hanging it up to dry...  I usually do that part.  I like that part."

     Total loss of control was imminent.  He felt like a watering can about to tip.

     And all the while, Leon remained wonderfully, frustratingly Leon, the contained laughter as obvious in his voice as Vishnal's unfallen tears.

     "Okay...  When you're back on your feet, how about you do my laundry, if you feel like you've been missing out?"

     In all actuality, that sounded lovely.  If he'd been a better man, Vishnal would have pivoted instantly; agreeing cheerfully, penciling it into a pristine little notebook.  Healing immediately and springing to his feet, vigorous and ready to get to work.

     Instead, he buried his face in his hands again, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

     "I haven't practiced with my blades in so long that I'm gonna have to start all over!"

     Leon slid his hand from his shoulder, giving him an awkward pat on the back.

     "Maybe that, uh, would be a good th-"

     Stop this nonsense at once!

     Vishnal's voice broke again, coming out as a creaky whine.

     "...I don't think I have biceps anymore!"

     How vain.  How foolish.  How undignified.  He knew he should be ashamed of himself, and was perversely gratified to feel just how deep that shame went.  It felt especially sharp when Leon's hand shifted again; wrapping itself around Vishnal's upper arm and giving it a playful, inquisitive squeeze.

     "Uh...  Did you ever?"

     Vishnal let his hands drop and glared at Leon through his tears; noticing anew the sinewy perfection of his arms, but unable to see it as anything but a silent commentary on his own failings.

     "Oh, very funny.  More than I used to...  You weren't there the first time I put on my uniform.  I looked like a mop handle!"

     Leon was trying not to laugh again, which Vishnal supposed was reasonable.  Who in his right mind would take any of this even remotely seriously?

     All that mattered was that, unserious as he was, Leon had resumed patting his back.

     "Well, hey, that's not so bad...  I've seen some pretty shapely mop handles in my time."

     The kindness got to him, and Vishnal began to sob.

     "It was so bad.  It was awful.  It's awful now, I-"

     For a tense, terrible moment, Leon froze.  Then slowly, as though he thought he might spook him—and as though he were already plenty spooked himself—he awkwardly gathered Vishnal in his arms.

     "...Hey.  Hey.  Vish.  Get yourself together, all right?  You're just having an off day.  It happens."

     Vishnal wanted him to hold on tight, but that seemed like too much to ask, given that Leon was already so uncomfortable.

     "...I'm sorry..."

     And yet, within that discomfort, he had managed to muster an incredible amount of tenderness; gently patting Vishnal between his trembling shoulder blades, his voice softer than either of them had ever thought possible.

     "It's okay.  You can't get around or do any of your usual things, and that's rough.  I'd probably cry, too."

     Vishnal shook his head, sniffling pathetically into Leon's vest.

     "No you wouldn't.  Don't lie."

     Leon shrugged casually.

     "...Fine, I guess I don't really know.  But I do know that I'd probably do something worse."

     Another sob rose in Vishnal's throat.

     In that moment, he was sure that there couldn't be anything worse.  What could be worse than losing all pretense of composure?  Than allowing oneself to break under so little weight?  Than sitting before a man who had willingly given up his entire existence, and acting as though your suffering was anything at all?

     He desperately tried to think of something, but nothing came, save for more tears.

     And still, to Vishnal's mute astonishment, Leon didn't let go.

[argyrocratie]

"The darkest hour is before the dawn?"

Assembly's view on another year of trench warfare in 2024 (december 2023)

"War is a kind of action, thanks to which people who do not know each other kill each other for the sake of glory and benefit of people who know each other very well, but do not kill each other." (Paul Valéry)

(...)

Stalemate. This word began to appear in almost every analytical material of the Western press about the Russian-Ukrainian war. Since the retreat of the Russian army from Kherson in November last year, the front line has frozen almost without movement, despite the bloody attempts of each side to achieve a turning point in their favor and gain operational space. After the new Verdun – the winter-spring meat grinder near Bakhmut – came a new battle on Somme for a dozen villages in the steppes of the Azov Coast, which from October smoothly turned into another Verdun/Bakhmut around Avdeevka. If it falls, the same will continue on new frontiers a little further. Meanwhile, the mess of mud and corpses in Krynki, perhaps, is already looking like a new Passendale.

If the current positional balance is not compared to the First World War only by the lazy, its finale is not yet remembered so often. It was disrupted by the workers of the warring countries:

“The war did not end in 1918 because of the military defeat of one side or another. The generals would have happily spent a few more years killing millions of people to achieve their goals. It ended because it was against the various armies and populations of Europe took action. Most people know that Russia emerged from the war in 1917 thanks to the Russian Revolution. One of the key factors in the revolution was that the workers and peasants of Russia rebelled against the war and against their own ruling class. What is less known is that that there had been major mutinies in the French army, as well as smaller but equally significant mutinies in the British army, in 1917. The key uprising ended the war was the Kiel mutiny of the German navy in 1918. The High Command, in a desperate attempt to turn the tide of the war, ordered bring the practically intact fleet to sea. However, the naval underground organizations, which included anarchist sailors, were already expecting this. In response, they formed the Soviets and seized their ships, surrounding ports and barracks. This caused a wave of military mutinies and workers' strikes, forcing the panicked ruling class of not only Germany, but also Europe as a whole to sit down at the negotiating table and work out a peace treaty.”

By the time of the probable arrival of Trump or another isolationist candidate for the presidency in the United States, the Russian-Ukrainian war will rage for 3 years already. This is approximately the same amount of time it took for the revolutionary situation to appear then. Neither the barrier detachments, nor the military tribunals, nor the hordes of street screamers for “until the bitter end” helped.

The very threat that those celebrating 2024 in the trenches next New Year will meet on the neutral land, drink 100 grams each and go home with weapons, can become a powerful incentive for the Kremlin and the Ze-Office to begin to negotiate in order to prevent something much more dangerous for both of them option. But even if the scenario of the last century beginning is repeated – instead of, for example, the story of Iran and Iraq, which got stuck in the same massacre for 8 years and then both declared it won, that only strengthened the two regimes – this means that the next year will bring many more rivers of blood. According to BBC News Ukraine, with the new bill on mobilization Ukrainians may be required to appear at the recruitment centers within 48 hours after receiving a summons by email or registered mail. Death postmen will receive more tools to check the military registration documents of citizens on the streets, deliver them to enlistment offices, and put them on the wanted list. For ignoring of summonses, the terms of arrest and fines will be increased, it will be possible to prosecute violators in absentia, and the circle of those entitled to a deferment will be narrowed. It is also proposed military registration for those in prison. Will prisoners want to go to the front, knowing that even law-abiding people, to put it mildly, are not very well trained and equipped – a big question that could threaten prison riots. It will be especially hard for draft evaders who prefer to go to prison rather than fight. When the “Assembly” began to sound the alarm about the fact that Kharkov courts stopped issuing suspended sentences for failure to appear to a unit, many local readers brushed it aside like it is “better to jail than to the grave.” Well, let's see how soon the first will cease to be an alternative to the second.

(...)

According to counting by “Mediazona”, released on the anniversary of the start of Russian mobilization, over the year in the Russian Federation there have been almost four times more sentences for unauthorized leaving of a unit and desertion than there were annually in such cases before the war: since July 2023, courts have handed down more than 500 of them every month.

(...)

It should also be taken into account that the motivation to desert is reduced by the European borders closed to Russians, the social control system in Russian cities, unprecedented in the history of wars, and the predominantly open terrain of south-eastern Ukraine, where it is difficult to hide from the military police.

The decay of the Russian army is also hindered by Ukrainian propaganda, which portrays as enemies all Russian citizens who are not lacqueying for Ukraine, even if they refuse to fight (they say, these are the same “orcs”, only funky). This is being done for the same reason why in the defense of Ukraine the emphasis is on driving people under pressure instead of developing voluntary initiative: horizontal ties at the grassroots are dangerous for anyone holding power. But this same barrack slavery can contribute to the fraternization of yesterday’s workers in camouflage uniforms, quickly making them understand that forced people have nothing to share, and the enemy is those who drive them to slaughter.

Almost right now, was published a statement of Russian soldiers from the Moscow and Ulyanovsk regions about monetary extortions and beatings from the command. Servicemen of military unit 41680 stated that two weeks after signing the contract, they were sent to an assault on the Avdeevka direction without training or preparation. From their words, most fighters are “beaten and kept in basements” before a mission."

...

[darkmaga-returns]

by Rep. John J. Duncan Jr. | Oct 30, 2024

Some of our leaders seem to care more about other countries, e.g., Ukraine and Israel, than they do about our own.

Once again, Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has come to Washington, begging for even more money, this time some $8 billion dollars.

The U.S. Congress has already approved $175 billion for Ukraine in the last 2½ years. Added to over $52 billion from the European Union and $43 billion from the World Bank (17.5% of which comes from U.S. taxpayers), Ukraine has had more money to fight this war than Russia has.

The Kiel Institute said in mid-January Ukraine had at that point received from all sources what it described as a “staggering” $278 billion.

Ukraine’s total GDP in 2022 was only $160.5 billion. That whole country could have been rebuilt in a beautiful way with all the money it has spent on this war.

Now, much of Ukraine has been shelled and bombed to smithereens all because many leaders from Britain and the U.S. urged Ukraine not to go through with a peace agreement in the spring of 2022.

That agreement would have saved thousands of lives on both sides and hundreds of billions of dollars.

Four big U.S. defense contractors threw a lavish party at the Ukrainian Embassy in Washington in December 2022 in celebration of all the money they would be receiving as long as all the members of Congress (to whom they contribute) could keep this war going.

[obsessivedilettante]

May 2023 round-up

How is it already June? I went to a concert at the beginning of the month, blinked, and now it’s June. I don’t even know what I did in May. It was a stressful, chaotic month. Do you know what I’m going through right now? Downsizing a quarter of the company. Not me, at least. But still. I am now picking up all kinds of slack while working on exit packages. This is the slow season since most of our projects are with educational institute but we thought we would have picked up other projects by now. So this is going to be a Fun summer. Anyway, here’s what I vaguely remember from May to prove that I actually have a life and am Doing Things:

I saw Agust D in Chicago! Guess what? I still had to work the day of the concert! So I didn’t get to explore Chicago. But the concert was fun! The seats at the Allstate Arena are the woooooooorst, though. <insert Jean-Ralphio gif> I think the bruise on my thigh where the armrest hit my pear-shaped body has finally faded.

I dragged my mum to the local production of 39 Steps. Those seats were much better.

I… think that’s it? The only fun noteworthy things I’ve done all month. Yeah. We’ve also been having tons of rain which is great “because we need the moisture” but my allergies are like “I HATE YOU” about all the new pollen/grass/etc springing up like weeds. Oh, and we got to enjoy a sneak peek at fire season as Canada’s ash cloud settled over us for a week and I’ve since learned I am now one of those “sensitive to air quality” types. It’s okay, I don’t want to breathe, anyway.

Anyway, media I am or have enjoyed/consumed:

Mrs. Davis. I can’t even begin to explain this show so I won’t. But it was an enjoyable mind-trip and I loved how wacky and colorful it was. I’m looking forward to a binge rewatch now that I don’t have to wait for a new episode each week. But it’s not a show I’ll watch with my mum.

Taskmaster UK (s15). I loved it. I loved how all the contestants got along (their imitations of each other were divine!). I’d never heard of Ivo before but now I’m mildly obsessed with his persona. I want Jenny to adopt me. I want Kiel to be my big brother. I want to overthink tasks with Mae until we get to the perfect solution. I want to start an absurdist art gallery with Frankie.

G-IDLE and DREAMCATCHER comebacks. My girls! With their summer bops! I am so excited! These may not be my favoritest-ever of their albums but I can’t deny that “Queencard” gets stuck in my brain and I have to be careful I don’t suddenly blurt out, “My boob and booty’s hot.” Tbh in my mind it was a perfect timing release to a Pride month anthem. (Oh yeah this does remind me that I really wanted to get tickets to G-IDLE’s concert tour, especially since they’re in much better venues compared to last year, but HOLY HECK travel is so much more expensive than last year and with work chaos, I just can’t do it. I am genuinely gutted but I will survive. Just don’t talk to me about it.) Also I tried to hyperlink to the MVs but it wasn’t working, probably because I haven’t updated this app in a million years (all polls are mysterious grey bars) but you should watch G-IDLE’s “Allergy” MV before watching “Queencard.”

[georgebuckettwo]

The air raid on Coventry on the night of 14 November 1940 was the single most concentrated attack on a British city in the Second World War.

Following the raid, Nazi propagandists coined a new word in German - coventrieren - to raze a city to the ground.

Codenamed 'Moonlight Sonata', the raid lasted for 11 hours and involved nearly 500 Luftwaffe bombers, gathered from airfields all over occupied Europe.

The aim was to knock out Coventry as a major centre for war production. It was said too, that Hitler ordered the raid as revenge on an RAF attack on Munich.

14 November was a brilliant moonlit night, so bright that the traffic could move around on the road without light.

The Luftwaffe dropped 500 tons of high explosive, 30,000 incendiaries and 50 landmines. It was also trying out a new weapon, the exploding incendiary.

Coventry lost not only its great medieval church of St Michael's, the only English Cathedral to be destroyed in the Second World War, but its central library and market hall, hundreds of shops and public building and 16th century Palace Yard, where James II had once held court.

The smell and heat of the burning city reached into the cockpits of the German bombers, 6,000 feet above.

More than 43,000 homes, just over half the city's housing stock, were damaged or destroyed in the raid. 

The fire at the city's huge Daimler works was one of the biggest of the war in Britain. Up to 150 high explosive bombs and 3,000 incendiaries turned 15 acres of factory buildings into a raging inferno.

At midday the next day in Coventry, it was as warm as spring and almost dark because of the effects of the firestorms. 

King George VI is said to have wept as he stood in the ruins of the burned out Cathedral, surveying the destruction. 

The people of the city were traumatised. Hundreds wandered to the streets in a daze and little children were seen trying to burrow their way through solid brick walls to escape the terrifying noise.

One of the city's three statues of Peeping Tom was blown out of a niche in its high building and lay in the street, where shocked passers-by mistook it for another human corpse in the blackout.

One man recalled being pursued down a street by a knee-high river of boiling butter from a nearby blazing dairy. 

At one point during the night, an abandoned tram was blown clean over a house and into a garden. It landed with its windows still intact. 

The official death toll from the night was 554, but the real figure could have been much higher with many people unaccounted for. 

As help poured in the next day, demolition crews had to be prevented from pulling down the Cathedral tower. They didn't realise it had been leaning for at least 100 years.

On the day of the mass funerals, fighter patrols were sent up into the skies above the city. It was thought that the Germans might try to bomb the cemetery. 

Yet by 1947, Coventry had adopted its first German twin city, Kiel. Dresden followed in 1956. The ruined Cathedral now stands for international peace and reconciliation. 

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 1.14

1236 – King Henry III of England marries Eleanor of Provence. 1301 – Andrew III of Hungary dies, ending the Árpád dynasty in Hungary. 1761 – The Third Battle of Panipat is fought in India between the Afghans under Ahmad Shah Durrani and the Marathas. 1784 – American Revolutionary War: Ratification Day, United States - Congress ratifies the Treaty of Paris with Great Britain. 1797 – The Battle of Rivoli is fought with a decisive French victory by Napoleon Bonaparte, marking the beginning of the end of the War of the First Coalition and the start of French hegemony over Italy for two decades. 1814 – Treaty of Kiel: Frederick VI of Denmark cedes the Kingdom of Norway to Charles XIII of Sweden in return for Pomerania. 1858 – Napoleon III of France escapes an assassination attempt made by Felice Orsini and his accomplices in Paris. 1899 – RMS Oceanic, the largest ship afloat since SS Great Eastern, is launched. 1900 – Giacomo Puccini's Tosca opens in Rome. 1907 – An earthquake in Kingston, Jamaica kills more than 1,000 people. 1911 – Roald Amundsen's South Pole expedition makes landfall on the eastern edge of the Ross Ice Shelf. 1939 – Norway claims Queen Maud Land in Antarctica. 1943 – World War II: Japan begins Operation Ke, the successful operation to evacuate its forces from Guadalcanal during the Guadalcanal Campaign. 1943 – World War II: Franklin D. Roosevelt and Winston Churchill begin the Casablanca Conference to discuss strategy and study the next phase of the war. 1951 – National Airlines Flight 83 crashes during landing at Philadelphia International Airport, killing seven passengers and crew. 1952 – NBC's long-running morning news program Today debuts, with host Dave Garroway. 1953 – Josip Broz Tito is elected the first President of Yugoslavia. 1954 – The Hudson Motor Car Company merges with Nash-Kelvinator Corporation forming the American Motors Corporation. 1957 – Kripalu Maharaj is named fifth Jagadguru (world teacher) after giving seven days of speeches before 500 Hindu scholars. 1960 – The Reserve Bank of Australia, the country's central bank and banknote issuing authority authorized by the 1959 Reserve Bank Act, is established. 1967 – Counterculture of the 1960s: The Human Be-In takes place in San Francisco, California's Golden Gate Park, launching the Summer of Love. 1969 – USS Enterprise fire: An accidental explosion aboard the USS Enterprise near Hawaii kills 28 people. 1972 – Queen Margrethe II of Denmark ascends the throne, the first Queen of Denmark since 1412 and the first Danish monarch not named Frederik or Christian since 1513. 1973 – Elvis Presley's concert Aloha from Hawaii is broadcast live via satellite, and sets the record as the most watched broadcast by an individual entertainer in television history. 1993 – Sinking of the MS Jan Heweliusz: In Poland's worst peacetime maritime disaster, ferry MS Jan Heweliusz sinks off the coast of Rügen, drowning 55 passengers and crew; nine crew-members are saved. 2004 – The national flag of the Republic of Georgia, the so-called "five cross flag", is restored to official use after a hiatus of some 500 years. 2010 – Yemen declares an open war against the terrorist group al-Qaeda. 2011 – President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali of Tunisia seeks refuge in Saudi Arabia after a series of demonstrations against his regime, considered to be the birth of the Arab Spring. 2016 – Multiple explosions reported near the Sarinah Building, Jakarta, followed by shootout between perpetrators and the police, killing seven people. The Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant claimed responsibility. 2019 – A Saha Airlines Boeing 707 crashes at Fath Air Base near Karaj in Alborz Province, Iran, killing 15 people. 2024 – Queen Margrethe II abdicates as Queen of Denmark and is succeeded by her son, Frederik X.

[vnvyb]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Altar'd State Boho Aztec Tribal Kiel Embroidered Long Sleeve Chambray Top Sz M.

[ghoermann]

Spring in Kiel

[botanischer-garten-kiel]

Bodnant-Schneeball

Virbunum bodnantense

[ashotasfireandasdeepastheocean1]

Candle Light Concert, Kiel ~ 25.07.2024

Spring ~ Four Seasons of Vivaldi 🌸🍃

Fall ~ Four Seasons of Vivaldi 🍂

By Stella Quartett

.🎶❤️

.

[fransopdefiets]

16-6 Langset

Gisterenavond deed ik boodschappen bij de KiWi en maakte quinoa met uien, paprika en tomaat en bakte daar een steak bij.

Heerlijk om weer eens wat ‘eigens’ te eten, zonder zoveel zout en vet.

Ik vergat gisteren helemaal te vertellen over de onheilsprofeet die ik ontmoette in de voorsteden van Oslo. Ik zat aan een picknicktafel me te oriënteren op de kaart toen er man op me af kwam lopen, netjes gekleed en duidelijk van de herenliefde. Na de bekende vragen over mijn reisdetails waarschuwde hij me om niet via Lapland naar Zweden te fietsen. Er is daar niks te zien, het is hartstikke vlak en het stikt er van de muggen. De weg naar Kaaresuando is kaarsrecht en ze noemen die de Bloedweg! Weet je waarom? Vanwege de muggen wilde ik zeggen, maar hij ging alweer door. De Duitsers hebben ze door ze door dwangarbeiders laten aanleggen en de weg is zo breed, dat ie ook als landingsbaan kan dienen. Ga daar niet heen! Ik ben aardrijkskundeleraar dus ik kan het weten. Trouwens, je moet langs Røros gaan, dat is een oud mijnwerkersstadje, ik heb daar een tweede huisje.

Ieder mens hoort wat ie wil horen en wat ik hoorde m, klonk me als muziek in de oren klonk, nl. het is daar vlak. Maar ik zal van de week Anton eens consulteren, die moet toch deskundig zijn op het terrein van Zweeds Lapland. En voor het overige hou ik de kaarten tegen de borst totdat ik in Hammerfest ben, pas dan weet ik of ik zin heb in nog twee maanden fietsen of dat ik de route wat inkort.

Bij het ontbijt een sms van Anton, we zien elkaar maandagmiddag in Hamar. Ik kijk er enorm naar uit, ik ben benieuwd hoe lang hij er over gaat doen met de auto.

Als ik verrek is het nota bene droog, tegen alle voorspellingen in, er vallen een keer een paar druppeltjes, maar dat mag geen regen heten. Overal om me heen ijlen onheilszwangere wolken langs het zwerk (ik speel wordfeud met mijn nicht Isabel, dan krijg je opeens allemaal van dat soort woorden in je hoofd) maar die raken mij niet.

Bij het benzinestation van Raholt denk ik, zal ik san hier maar koffie nemen, het is al bijna luchtijd. Ach nee, dat is ook zo’n noodscenario. En verdomd, een half uurtje later ben ik in Eidsvoll Verk en zit ik in het museumcafé aan de taart en de cappuccino.

Tijdens de koffie begint het te druppen. En als ik klaar ben, giet het maar volgend de onvolprezen HR app is het over drie kwartier weer droog, dus waarom niet even het museum bezocht? Dat bestaat uit een groot 18e eeuws woonhuis, dat eigendom was van een staalfabrikant. Nadat Napoleon verslagen was, werd met het verdrag van Kiel Noorwegen van Denemarken afgenomen en aan Zweden toegekend. De Denen hadden nl. de kant van Napoleon gekozen. Daartoe aangezet door de Deense kroonprins, stuurden alle Noorse provincies afgevaardigden naar Eidsvoll en werd de Noorse grondwet opgesteld. Men vergaderde in dat grote huis. En na deze rondleiding schijnt de zon weer, spring ik op mijn fiets, klim een half uurtje en daal vervolgens af naar Minnesund en Langset meld me op de zelfbedieningscamping. Dan betaal je 32 euro om te mogen staan en voor een douche van 4 minuten moet je nog een keer 1,60 aftikken. Een Airbnb kost je het dubbele en dan heb je alle comfort. Maar ja, die zijn dus niet overal beschikbaar.

Gefietste afstand: 53 km

Gefietste tijd: 5 uur

Afstand tot de Noordkaap in een rechte streep: 1.357 km

[rf4archive]

kiel date to observatory

[peanutbuttermarmelade]