#like no way i'd stick around for a FULL additional year after that

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

HOW DARE YOU STAB ME IN THE GUT THE IDEA OF VAGGIE BEING MORTAL!

SO RUDE!

But at the same time just... thinking about vaggie wanting to grow old with charlie. that sort of show of *trust*, of being vulnerable with charlie in a way no one's been with her before.

and it probably takes some more conversations, but... I want to hope that charlie eventually understands just what vaggie means when she wants to spend the rest of her days with charlie. and how much meaning that carries when those days are *finite*...

MY POOR HEART HOW DARE YOU

well this almost turned into a fic now didn't it? hm. whoops

(had Reinaeiry's song "Left Behind" on repeat for this ^w^;)

.... a new sinner comes to the hotel, sometime After.

they came in past the giant golden Dazzle statue out front, creep through the foyer, tense and ready for a trap, spot Sir Pentious's portrait- and the matching one, hanging up next to it

(fresh flowers sitting in vases under them both)

it's a picture of a woman. Steel grey skin, faded angel wings, a missing eye- deep laugh lines at the corners of the eye she has left

she's leaning back in a chair, sitting casually in her hotel manager uniform, her thin smile a little crooked and a little sharp- definitely someone used to having problems and finding solutions. Not someone to mess with. The walking stick in one hand is held more like a weapon

there's a wedding band on her finger, on full display she reaches up to cover the hand resting on her shoulder

(rest of that person out of sight) (hand clawed and pale as porcelain, cuff of a red suit bleeding out of frame)

and it's odd to see someone else sharing a memorial picture-

(more than one person had died a little, that day)

-but more odd than that is the way looking at the picture makes the sinner frown.

they're still frowning when the hotel founder wanders over

(done arranging for a new room) (doing double duty as hotel manager) (laughed it off earlier- hasn't yet found the time to put up a job openings ad) (a bad liar)

and she's a lanky, tall demon in a red suit, looking more like a living doll than a princess of hell, proper demon image only hinted at with the claws and the fangs

she shows off the fangs when she smiles at the portrait of the woman- then, belatedly, at the new hotel guest

(still their hotel) (still their new guest) (even After...)

she asks,

"Like them?" and smiles a little wider (wider than a human could) (a little forced now) "They're, pretty cool pictures, huh?"

the new guest hums noncommittally. Still frowning

a laugh from the demon standing next to them, clasping her hands, spinning ring on one finger-

"I guess it's harder to know how good a picture it is, if you've never met the person in it." a hard swallow. "She would've.... really liked to have be here. To meet you."

"Not sure I'd want to meet her," a quip, thoughtless, not looking over. "Kinda a scary lady."

the demon's stricken look "-does she look scary?"

a casual shrug. "Just a feeling. Seems like she meant business."

"She did..." fangs biting into lips, smile gone, shoulders slumping, the demon caving inwards. "....but not like that. She, she was scary for people she loved- and kind. And thoughtful and-"

"What about him?" pointing at Sir Pentious in full battle gear, egg boyz everywhere.

the demon's very weak attempt at a smile. "Oh, you'll see him around eventually. He comes down to visit when he can, and likes calling a lot in between."

eyebrows lifting. Realizing. "He's the one who made it to heaven?"

"He is. He-"

"But not her?"

"...."

tall frame hunching, horns out now, dark marks bleeding down pale cheeks like burnt tears. A tail lashing silently behind her.

the demon breathes carefully. Gingerly.

"She... wasn't here to be saved. Not like- not like that."

"Huh."

a dubious, suspicious noise- the hotel is still a new idea even after all these years- a brand new addition to the fabric of creation with a lot of trust issues still to iron out.

"So what happened?" the sinner prods, watching carefully out of the corner of one eye. "Why's her picture up there with his?"

that gets a smile again, strangely.

a tearful one and a thickness in the demon's voice, but still a smile as she steps forward, reaching up to the portrait frame- touching it, lightly, with a pale, clawed hand that matches the one resting on the painted woman's shoulder.

"...they both gave their lives to their friends."

the demon whispers, still smiling.

"They made their home here, in the hotel, with us, and... and they'll always still be here. They'll never. Really leave-"

the words cut off and the sinner shuffles awkwardly in the silence

staring up at the portrait together, one frowning sinner-

-one hell princess slowly leaning against the woman's gilded frame, forehead butting it desperately, clearly trying hard not to cry in front of the first new guest

(that she's had to greet on her own)

finally the sinner speaks up (uncomfortable with pity) (a dangerous, weak thing to feel in hell) scowling hard at the woman's portrait, demanding-

"Where's her spear?"

the demon turns, wet faced, surprised. "Oh- she didn't want..." Blinks. "Her. Spear?"

"The cane thing looks stupid." crossed arms, a judgmental eye. head tilted to the left like bird, like the right eye was better at looking at things- "It's just a stick. How's she supposed to deal with stuff with just a flimsy piece of crap like that? The thing doesn't even have a blade."

"It had one." murmurs the demon, still shocked. Slowly straightening. "It had, hidden inside, there was a blade- Niffty made it for-"

the demon stops. Frowns.

"But. You didn't know her. The spear... How did you know about the-"

another shrug. "Just vibes."

"Vibes-?"

"She looks like a spear kinda girl."

a flex of the sinner's empty hand, gripping empty air, glaring up at the cane in the woman's hand-

"Just seems right, you know? Better than the stupid twig stick."

the demon eyes flicking down to watch, staring. "...she called her cane that, too."

a faint comment drifting up like the ghost of years gone by.

snorting, the sinner turns away. "I bet." eyes the rest of the hotel with hands on hips, critical and on edge with that stare still burning between tense shoulder blades. "So where's my turf in this place? I'm guessing I don't have to fight for it first, right?"

"Room 12, second floor." many times rehearsed words finally popping out without thought. "Key's on the front desk. I'll show you up-"

"Don't bother." sinner already striding off, clearly glad to get away. "I won't kill anyone on the way there, don't worry."

"I wasn't.... that's not why I..."

there's something. Something about that brisk, focused way of walking. Something in the set of those shoulders-

(like a military march) (like the shoulders are braced for wings that aren't there)

(like the sinner should be carrying a spear-)

Charlie lurches forward.

"-Vaggie?"

heart in her throat, fist in her chest, frozen as the sinner pauses at the foot of the main stairs and looks back.

something in that strange face softens. (pity?) (something else...?)

"... not my name, sweetie."

the sinner's smile is crooked. unscarred eyes understanding, and sad.

"She your wife?"

no past tense. just the gaping whole in Charlie- ripped open fresh, thundering and bleeding under her shirt as she stares and stares and tries to see- "Yes." seeing ghosts where there aren't any. "We. For, for so many wonderful years..."

the crooked smile soft as well as sad now, as the sinner thumbs the room key and takes a moment, looking back up at the portrait above Charlie.

"Good for her."

a touch bitter- a sigh, sharp. Pained.

"And, you. Some of us.. never even find who we were looking for, before we lose our chance at having a life with them."

turning and gone in the next second, before anything else slips out. The glint in suddenly exhausted eyes-

Charlie, standing under Vaggie's portrait, slowly starting to shake.

Not this-

"-no."

Slowly backing up against the wall. Claws reaching out, sinking in, ruining wallpaper as the world tilts and turns and Charlie braces her weak knees against the fall.

"-it's not. It's not."

It can't be. The side of the bed that wasn't Charlie's even when she woke up curled up in it- that was real. The dusty spear propped in a corner of their room that Charlie hadn't put there and didn't want there and couldn't bring herself to move- THAT was real.

The portrait behind her, painted when the limp and her balance first started getting bad, when Vaggie still called her cane a 'stupid twig stick' but wouldn't pretend she didn't need it, wouldn't swap it for her spear when Charlie had offered, carried proudly anyway and smirked about smacking ankles when people annoyed her... mostly just thumbed it thoughtfully, when she thought Charlie wasn't looking, smiling that crooked wondering smile- THAT had been- that was-

Charlie could turn around right now and see all of it memorialized behind her (always behind her now) (always in the past, being left further behind).

Charlie had NOT seen, anything else. Because nothing else could BE real.

nothing as real as long limbs folding in, crumping under that damn framed picture, ignoring Husk's worried look from the bar. Husk, glancing up after the new guest, also frowning now-

Charlie and the old habit of hugging herself tightly back together, something not even a lifetime with Vaggie had ever fully broke her out of.

(only ONE lifetime) (not hers)

(her stupid deal hadn't worked in the end) (promise broken for nothing) (Vaggie had died)

(she can't be-)

She can't do this again.

.....

exact words are a bitch sometimes

"Don't let me die without her." (never said- and make sure she doesn't have to live and die alone either, without me)

[homestuck-archive]

HOMESTUCK NEWS UPDATE!

"Hi, James here. Hope you had a good holiday! New year, new me! New you! Whatever, man! We got the usual patreon updates for you. Wahoo! Did you know that's a kind of fish? I watch a lot of fishing videos. If everything goes right and nothing goes wrong we should have something very exciting very soon: a new website! What does this mean for you? Stick around and find out!

Thanks for coming to our AMA, I hope we were able to answer some questions. I especially liked the one where Haven said he was going to fill Dirk full of Milk and slap him against a wall. Great job team. In other community news, the folks over at SAHcon are having their New Year's showcase around 5 pm PST today. Wow! I'm excited to see what the community is cooking.

We got another great comic update coming mid month, and in the next few we're letting some of the new writers shine. I'm excited for you to read them!

Speaking of updates on things… some of you sleuths may have noticed some changes. I'd like to go into a little more detail about them to the extent that I am able. I also wanted to do this in an official newspost, and not on socials etc, so that there is no question about it.

The contract with VIZ media has been restructured. What does this mean? Well, let's start a little further back. We have gotten a lot of questions about Andrew's involvement with HS:BC and Homestuck as a whole. I mentioned before that Andrew approached me to finish HS:BC. As many of you know a few years ago Andrew stepped back from having a creative role. This has allowed him to focus on oversight, and some behind-the-scenes stuff. A large part of that was regaining a sort of legal control of the brand as a whole.

So who "Owns Homestuck?" Well Andrew still does. Who has the publishing rights? We're working on that! The HICU has a license to do what we want with the property, which is what has allowed us to do some of the more creative things we are trying to do. Is the Website going to be fixed? They're working on that! I have very little to do with that, personally, but once there is something solid to announce there and the concerned parties are comfortable with it I'll let you know. What does this mean for the commentaries? Behind the scenes, some ideas about how to handle the issues with the way Homestuck is going to be published are being discussed. Some of these ideas may include a new way to release the future book commentary in absence of the books themselves. Wow!

With regards to VIZ, as some of you have correctly surmised this is good news for us. It has allowed things like HS:BC and HICU licensing etc to happen, as well as the SAHcon license. Hopefully, this can also include some additional fan-friendly licenses Andrew is considering. This all will take time to fully unfold so more details will be forthcoming about what this means for Homestuck as a whole. All in all, I think we are in for an exciting year.

Man what else is goin on? Some good news on the Vinyl is that I talked to the printer and with such an overwhelming response from you guys, instead of a simple Best Of EP, we actually want to try and do a print of Vol. 1-4. This makes all my very scientific and organized data gathering completely useless. I am humbled by something new and mundane every day. Anyway, this represents a completely different beast logistically, but as a fan of those tracks I am very very excited about that. I will Literally buy a Record Player for this. "James, you don't own a record player?" No! What do I look like, an old man? Please don't answer that. (Yes James, you do. -Homestuck Archive, 2024.)

This month (January 2024) we are also going to start seeing some of the bonus content go public. I ran a poll for the Patrons, and the general consensus is that after 2 months, they're ok with the bonus content going public. This includes Bonus strips, the Illustrations, and the commentary. They're really fun to do, so I hope you guys are into it. If you want to see these as soon as they go up, they are available to subscribers. Thank you for that, btw. It means the world to be able to pay some of my team's bills. Look at me, getting all sappy on New Year's Day. Maybe it really is a new year and a new me..."

SUMMARY -

New HS:BC Website in the works, with some new features.

Update mid-month as usual. Some of the newer Team Writers.

VIZ deal has been "restructured." (that's good for us)

Andrew still "Owns Homestuck."

Working on a solution to homestuck dot com debacle.

There are plans for commentary.

Homestuck Vinyl will be Vol. 1-4, pending some light Logistical Upkeep.

Patreon Bonuses from November will be going public this month.

[loki-erlking]

I've moved a fair few times throught my life.

4 times in the last 2 years as I entered adulthood

But while I was a child I moved a few times as well. More so after my parents divorced.

When people ask me, where did I grow up, I usually list the name of the town where I lived when I graduated highschool.

Though I suppose I could also list the town where I lived between ages 5 and 12. Thats where I'd stay with my father before we moved to my stepmothers' house.

But my mother. She moved out, and we went through a couple of places. There was once a duplex, across the street from the primary school, and next to a baseball field and a pond. And close enough to the BMX track that I could bike there in no time

But honestly. I think it was the house after that. When my mother met her second husband we moved to this house, in the middle of the woods that came with fice acres of land with the property.

That house... it was a white farm house. With a main floor, an upstairs and a basement.

It has this double shed behind it.

A perfectly circular pond in front of it.

A little hill on the edge of the forest.

Marshlands with tall reeds and cattails

And the forest, it had paths we would follow, and ride 4 wheelers on, and huge trees we would climb.

In one of the double sheds we made a club house. My brothers and I, along with our new step siblings.

By the pond we mad our own BMX track

Through the woods we rode 4wheelers and mountain bikes.

We put a pool in the backyard and added a wooden deck next to it

On the side of the garage, that was between the house and the sheds, there was a raspberry bush and it bloomed in the summer. We would pick them and fill so many buckets with them, and we would turn some of them into Jam that my mother would can.

There was also a kennel with a doghouse already installed.

We got 2 black labs at that house

Oh! There was also a huge screened in porch! It was so much fun inside it, there was a couch and a table to play cards on.

And on the other side of the house from that where was a greenhouse room! So we had plants growing through the year! And next to it was a massive willow tree. Growing along the side was honey suckle, which we ate all the time when we could.

We would have amazing parties, where adults would came and stand around a massive bonfire! And the kids they brought with them would play with me and my siblings. Running through the woods, and trying to start our own "kid fires". One of the time while starting a "kid fire" one of my younger brothers took a burning stick and tride to shive it in while my hands where in the way and burned me with it, that wasn't fun.

Inside though, the living room was nice, but the downstairs was better. Concrete floors, but we set up couches and beanbags in front of a huge box tv where we would all get together and watch movies and play with the Wii

There was a Sauna down there, and the handle was an antler

Therewas a bar as well, with a minni fridge and microwave and a little TV that didn't work, mounted in the corner. I used to make Easy Mac all the time with the microwave down there.

Upstairs was where me and my brothers slept. I shared a room with the youngest. But it was a horse shoe shaped room. And we put our dressers back to back in the middle to separate it more. But in my side of the room there was a hidden door in the wall, like out of Coraline, that lead to a hidden room where I had light and I kept most of my books. I called it my "Harry Potter room".

My other brother shared the second upstairs room with our step brother. They where very close in age and both did the same sports. They honestly acted and looked more like brothers than he and I did. They. The room was massive though, and had a full size door that lead to additional storage space.

When you lest the rooms though, you walked out into a hallway/landing that had a Wright iron railing thay prevented us from falling down the stairs. And we had our own bathroom up there as well.

Actually, it was in thay space where I broke my first bones. I'd gotten into a fight with one of my younger brothers (the sporty one) and he had taken the Iron Fire Poker that we had downstairs and was trying to stab me with it. I'd grabbed the plunger from the upstairs bathroom to try and defend myself when eventually I managed to punch him in the back of his head heard enough that I shattered 4/5 nuckles in that hand. I was 10 at the time and he was 7. He ran away down the street after, but cam back as he always did and I got a black cast to wear. Granted no one could really sign it because of the coloring. Live and learn though right.

Anyways. When you get down to the main floor. It was kind of like a big circle with a huge cubic brick fireplace and chimney in the middle. When you waled through the front doors you would be in the living room where we had this I'd beat up couch and 2 recliner love seats. And another old boxy TV with a Tvo (I think it's tvo, we where able to record shows with it) and if you continues right going around therough the living room would be the dining area. From there if you looked left that lead into a kitchen and if you looked right you would see double doors that lead to the greenhouse porch. Left through the kitchen also had a door out the the backyard and the door to the downstairs. But if you continued through the kitchen you pass by the stairs going upstairs, along with the main bathroom, my mother and stepfather room, and my step sisters room. Now her room was really cool because through it was also the door to the massive screaned in porch. Granted she would get annoyed when we would use her room to go out there in the summer. She also had her own TV which st the time I didn't think was fair. Considering she was like, 7/8 and I was the oldest and I didn't even get my own room.

We also had tons of cats at that house. Just outdoor cats thay would have tons of kittens due to the local tom cats. But hey when you have a house with 5 pre pubescent kids, kittens are a wonderful distraction.

We only stayed for about 2 years. We wanted to buy the place but the owner didn't want to sell, and im sure some other stuff happened but we eneded up having to move. Which we did, after which my mother's second marriage fell apart. We moved again. And again. And again. And again. Though after that 4th move I was 21 and moved out on my own. And now here I am at 24. Planning my next move to a townhouse thays at the edge of a forest and abandoned farm, and remembering a time when I felt most at home.

How fun, these trips down memory lane

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 3

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 3497 (oops 🙈)

Additional note: what you’re going to read is not realistic.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

With his stomach in knots and a frown on his face, Ivar watches closely his godfather, who enters the living-room, wheeling a large trolley case behind him.

"Hello, Ivar." Floki looks around, an eyebrow raised questioningly, "Lagertha isn't here?", before flopping down on the corner sofa.

"No," Ivar shakes his head, wheeling up next to him, "She's out on a date with this English guy... Hammond, Halmund or whatever his name is."

Scratching his ear, Floki tilts his head, "but she knows you're going, right?" He pulls the trolley case closer and then snorts, mumbling under his breath, "don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes!"

"What do you think? Of course, she knows. She said, and I quote," Ivar raises his hands to make air quotes, his voice tinged with obvious annoyance, "'Of course you can go, sweetie, you know I don't want to be the one holding you back. Call me if anything goes wrong. And don't forget to take your meds.'"

"She cares, Ivar." Floki's tone is soft as he places a hand on his godson's shoulder.

Ivar lowers his gaze. "You should have taken me in." His words are barely audible and suddenly he feels like he's eleven again and he has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

"You do know that back then I wasn't in a good place." Floki's sad sigh almost gets Ivar in tears as memories of his parents and Helga flood his mind. The pain in his heart becomes nearly unbearable but he fights it off with all his might. He never wants to feel broken and lost again.

Ivar lifts his head up and Floki can see the stubbornness in his eyes. "I could live with you now."

"No, you could not, and you know it!" Floki smiles and taps Ivar on the cheek. "Ivar, I live between two flights, today in Norway, yesterday in Iceland and after-tomorrow in Canada. What kind of life would this be for you, huh? And besides, living with Lagertha is not that bad."

But living with Sigurd is! Ivar wants to shout. He keeps quiet, though, shrugging before eventually mumbling. "Guess not..."

"So," Floki starts, eager to change the subject, "where are your brothers, by the way?"

"Where do you think they are, huh, you knock-kneed fool? They're already there." Ivar glances at his watch, furrowing his brow. "Harald's party started twenty minutes ago."

"We better hurry up, then!" Crouching down, Floki slowly opens the suitcase under Ivar's scrutinizing gaze.

"Quick!" Ivar commands, barely able to contain his impatience, his nervous fingers tapping his push rims. "What do you have for me, old man, huh?" He even contemplates climbing out of his chair to open it himself, but the fear of breaking a bone at the worst possible time is stronger than his eagerness.

"You're going to calm down, young Padawan." Floki quips, slowly moving his hand in front of Ivar with eyes full of mischief. Ivar immediately slaps his godfather's hand away, mumbling under his breath, "I'd rather be a Sith Lord." That earns him a loud, hysterical laugh from his godfather.

Ivar grunts, ready to protest, but all thoughts leave his mind as soon as he's able to see what is in the trolley case. The scowl on his face obvious, he doesn't even try to hide his disappointment as he utters, "you made me braces?"

He hates braces with a passion. Along with underarm crutches, he had some, as a child. They were bulky, stiff, painful and walking with them was tedious, agonizingly slow, and exhausting. Ragnar had been adamant that he wanted his youngest to walk, no matter the struggles, no matter the nearly unbearable pain. Ivar had settled his ass in a wheelchair the day of his father's funeral, getting rid of his braces shortly after, a decision he had never regretted. So no, such torture devices were not at all what he was hoping for.

"Have a little faith in me," Floki rolls his eyes. "These," he looks lovingly at the strange contraptions in his hands, "are not braces, Ivar. Have you and your crippled ass ever heard of exoskeleton?"

Ivar's eyes widen. "It's that thing used in rehab that allows paraplegics to walk, right?" As Floki nods, Ivar gives him a puzzled glance. "But, erm, you do know I don't have a spinal cord injury, don't you? Or are you suffering from memory loss? Maybe it's your age?"

Dismissing the remark with an exasperated wave of his hand, Floki hisses, "I'm well aware that you don't, godson dearest," before narrowing his eyes, his voice now serious, "you may have full sensation in both legs, yet they can't exactly support your weight and your lack of motor function can't be denied. Not really different from some paraplegic dudes, what do you think?"

Feeling a heavy lump in his throat, Ivar frowns, not pleased with the idea of him being like a paraplegic. Almost without thinking, he contracts his quads as best he can, as if he wants to make sure he's still able to do it.

Floki doesn't miss the barely-there movements in his thighs, though, and his voice softens. "Look Ivar, you're not a paraplegic, okay? But I used the exoskeleton technology. And since you're not paralyzed, I was able to make a smaller device that you can wear underneath your clothes, and you're going to walk. I mean, really walk, not just like those guys in rehab, between parallels bars and with a PT right behind them."

Ivar, his eyes bright, stares at his godfather, slack-jawed with amazement. "I'm..." He begins to sputter, voice filled with emotion, "I'm really going to walk?" Feeling like his heart is pounding out of his chest, he fails to contain his excitement, drumming the fingers of his right hand on his lap. He'd tap his feet if only he could.

"You are." Floki nods before taking out of the trolley case a pair of dress shoes. "I put dozens of sensors in the insole of these shoes, which will enable the exoskeleton to correct your stance practically every second. Therefore, you won't need crutches, although I would say it's safer for you to use this." Reaching down, he grabs a black derby-style cane, simple and sleek in design. "You know," he shrugs, "just for extra support. Better safe than sorry, hmh?"

Ivar, who doesn't even flinch when he sees the walking stick, just reaches out, his hand grazing the carbon fiber exoskeleton. "Is it really for me?" His eyes filled with wonder, his voice trembling, his lips stretch across his face as his godfather nods. "And you made this in what?... four, five days?"

Letting out his signature giggle, Floki waggles his fingers in front of his face. "Even I couldn't make this in such a short time. No, the truth is, I've been working on it for a while. Let's say your phone call just sped things up. Though I must say, this marvel of technology is not flawless... It has a really low battery life, like four hours of autonomy at best. If I had more time, I certainly could have done better, but for now, it is what it is and you'll have to make do with what you've got." Pursing his lips, he glances at his watch, "So, just so you know, if you put this on now, you'll have to come back around midnight if you don't want to have to crawl around. And if you hear a beep, you'd better hurry, okay?"

As Ivar just nods, his beaming smile never fading, Floki adds, tilting his head, "and now, go get ready, young Padawan, you have a party to attend!"

***

Sitting on a bench at the seaside, Ivar watches the party from afar, a feeling of uneasiness tightening his chest. It was a mistake. Attending to this party was a mistake. Despite the exoskeleton, despite the fact that he walks almost normally, it was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't be here. Anxiety surges like the swell of a wave, and he struggles to breathe. Sigurd was right: he doesn't belong here, doesn't belong to this life.

A part of him wants to leave. It would be better to run away, to go hide in his room. But he won't. He can't. Because just a moment ago he saw you. Because he's not ready to give up on you now that he is here, eventually close to you.

He recognized you the moment his eyes fell on you. Looking radiant in a polka dot dress, you're as pretty as he remembers. Pretty? Who's he kidding? The girl you were six years ago was pretty. You're a woman now, and one of the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Glowing, smiling at everyone, you didn't even see him. In his head, of course, he makes plans to approach you, even if deep down, he knows all too well he'll never muster enough courage to talk to you. You probably wouldn't want him to anyway. After all, he may be standing tall today, yet he's still a freak, a fucking cripple. He's still cursed with his bony, twisted, useless legs. He's still a burden.

Yet, there's this little voice inside of him, barely audible, whispering that you're not like this, that you never were in the first place; and that's partly why the ten-year-old boy he was when he first met you felt drawn to you almost instantly.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breathing and decides to take a little trip down memory lane, bringing him back to that sunny, summer day of his first – and only – encounter with you. His memory so vivid it's like it happened only yesterday.

He can't hear the chirping of birds as his brothers are loudly playing and bickering in the pool. His beloved mother is nowhere to be seen and he's willing to bet she's taking a nap, but not without first making sure he has everything he could possibly need. Lying on a sunbed in the shade of an oak, a glass of lemonade within reach and a thick book on his lap, he hardly notices his father coming into the backyard, Harald Hårfager following close behind.

Since Ivar knows Harald is here to talk business with his father, he pays no attention to the two men, who take their seats at the patio dining table.

He nearly falls off the sunbed when a tiny voice startles him. "Hello!"

Stunned, he turns his head towards the voice and comes face to face with a smiling girl he doesn't know. You. He'd say you're about his age.

"I'm Y/N," you tell him, waving your hand shyly. "I'm at my uncle's for the weekend," you keep going, pointing your finger at Harald, "and I was wondering... May I join you?" You finally ask, dragging a second sunbed closer to his.

His first instinct is to look around, because you can't possibly be talking to him. Why would you? Surely you can't have failed to spot his leg braces, nor his hideous orthopedic shoes. You can't have missed that he's a cripple.

Frowning as he sees that no one is around, he snorts, his nostrils flaring. He can tell you're wearing a swimsuit under your pink dress. What do you want, then? Are you here to mock and ridicule him or what?

"You better get in the pool with my brothers." He knows he sounds rude, not answering nor greeting you, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be made fun of and doesn't intend to give you the chance to do it.

Seemingly undeterred, you speak with a soft voice. "No, I'd rather not." Your smile is so genuine he can't help but think you mean no harm. "Actually," you shrug, sitting next to him, "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind. What are you reading?"

Gobsmacked, he just looks at you – and gods, how pretty you are! – for a long time, unable to utter a single word. Are you truly interested in what he's reading? Interested in him? He swallows hard, his heart racing. A small smile dancing on your lips, your kind eyes never leave his as you wait, full of hope, for him to finally talk to you.

And that's what he ends up doing, almost in spite of himself. For the next two hours, he shows you his astronomy book, a gift from his godfather for his tenth birthday, and tells you about the stars, the constellations and the nights he spends watching the sky, when his mother allows him to. And for two hours you listen to him, asking a question here or there and always smiling. He's pretty sure you're not faking being interested in what he's saying.

All too soon, your uncle tells you it's time to go and you stand up with a scowl, letting out a sigh of regret. The next moment, you flash Ivar a grin. "I had a really great time with you, thanks! I'm going back to my mom's tomorrow but I hope we can spend time together again sometime, maybe next summer. I'd love to stargaze with you, you know?" With that, you lean forward and as your lips touch his cheek, Ivar's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Ivar inhales deeply. That kiss... That's when he fell madly and hopelessly in love with you. If he concentrates enough, he can still feel the softness of your lips against his skin, still smell your sweet, flowery scent.

That day, he had watched you leave with a smile on your face, already dreaming of the day he would see you again. You had said "next summer" and even though it was a long time away, he was willing to wait. In the meantime, he would have plenty of memories to recall - your joyful voice, your sparkling eyes, your lovely smile... Sure, he could wait.

And he had waited, hopeful and happier than he had been in a long time.

Not long after, however, his life had been turned upside down, his father being murdered and his mother dying in a car crash. Lost, angry, broken, and infinitely sad, he had gone through the following months as if anesthetized - barely living, hardly functioning, sometimes feeling as if the memory of you was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Yet, and he doesn't know why – or perhaps simply because Ragnar being dead, Harald had no reason to visit anymore – he had never seen you again.

"Hello!"

His whole body freezes and he stops breathing. This voice... Your voice... He'd know it anywhere. Yet, it can't be, right? Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming? Is one of his brothers tricking him? Why would you talk to the cripple?

"My name is Y/N." He can hear the smile in your voice. "I was wondering... May I join you?"

Summoning the courage he's not sure he has, Ivar looks tentatively toward you.

Gods! You're even more beautiful up close. Fuck. Now that you're here, right next to him, he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Panic seizes his hammering heart as a lump rises in his throat. He attempts to swallow around it to speak, to say something, anything, but the words won't come out and he finally just nods, his hand gesturing to the bench for you to sit on.

"Thanks," you give him a broad smile before taking your seat.

Ivar cannot believe his eyes. What are you doing? Did you recognize him? Why are you here, with him?

"Woul–", he sputters, struggling to find his voice, "Wouldn't you rather be there?" Pointing his index finger at the crowd gathered in front of the makeshift stage just a few meters away. He frowns, tilting his head, "the party is in full swing."

"No, I'd rather not." You shrug and as you turn your head toward him, he breathes in your sweet scent, suddenly feeling dizzy. "The guys are already drunk and really have one thing on their minds. And those who are not are boring." You lower your gaze, as if embarrassed, and it's so adorable Ivar feels like his heart is melting. "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind."

Oh, he doesn't. He doesn't mind at all. The truth is, there's a fucking firework inside of him, and he barely contains the screams of happiness that threaten to escape his lips. "That's okay, you can stay," he says instead, his fidgeting fingers dancing on his lap.

Over the next hour or so, the conversation flows easily as you speak about Karasjok, the small town where you live, telling him about your mother's people, the Sami, their culture and customs.

Ivar shares with you bits and pieces of his life too, speaking about his passion for the Viking culture and about his belief in the ancient gods. The night, his night, is full of your laughs, full of your smiles, full of you. He wants it to never end.

He's still trying to figure out if you know who he is, if you remember meeting him once when you rise to your feet, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Walk with me, will you?"

He's about to break the truth about his inability to walk when he remembers that actually, thanks to Floki, he can. His eyes never leave yours as he grabs his cane with a little bit of self-consciousness, wincing as he stands up, but he can't see disgust, contempt, or disappointment on your face and your smile doesn't falter as you delicately slip your hand under his free arm, curling your fingers back over it. Shaken by your sudden proximity, Ivar feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

"It's such a lovely night and I'm so happy spending it with you."

Your words leave him speechless as you lead him close to the water. A bunch of guys can be seen in the distance and Ivar is pretty sure his brothers are among them. He can feel their heavy stares on him and doesn't need to hear them to know what they're saying. "Who's this dude? Do we know him?" Standing tall, with his braided hair and a blue suit, he knows he doesn't look like himself. Yet, as he locks eyes with Hvitserk for a second, he'd sworn he sees a hint of recognition crossing his brother's face. And as the latter gives him a thumbs up, he knows his mind is not playing tricks with him.

"Oh, I love this song!" You clap your hands twice before shrugging shyly. "Let's dance, please!"

Ivar's heart breaks. Scared out of his wits, he swallows hard, his breathing uneven. "I... I can't." It's a painful admission, and he wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

He realizes you pay no mind to his defeated tone, though, as you grab his cane, leaning it against a nearby tree. "We'll go slow, I promise."

Almost in spite of himself, he places his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Gently – cautiously – swaying to the music, Ivar leans in close and, inhaling deeply your delightful scent, he feels like he's going to spontaneously combust. Your head resting on his chest, he's sure you can hear his frantic, pounding heartbeat. But he can't bring himself to care, not when you're finally exactly where he wants you to be. In his arms.

That's why he doesn't hear the first beep, or if he does, he doesn't pay any attention, entranced by your beauty, your kindness and the mesmerizing color of your eyes.

But when you stop dancing, your eyebrows raised, "What's that beeping noise? It doesn't stop," he hears it too, cold sweats washing over him as panic courses through his body.

"I... I must... I must go," he stammers, and honestly he's about to throw up. He can't think, can't speak. All he knows is that he doesn't want you seeing him crawling around. He won't allow it. He can't.

Fuck.

That's why he leaves. He just strolls off. He doesn't see the appalled look you're giving him, doesn’t' realize he's leaving his black cane behind, doesn't hear the despair in your tone as you shout, "wait, please! I don't even know your name!"

He has only taken a few steps when crocodile tears run down his cheeks, blurring his sight. It hurts so much he could scream, and he can barely breathe as the realization starts to sink in. Who was he trying to fool? Sigurd had been right all along. No matter the exoskeleton, no matter the genius of his godfather, he's still a freak. A monster. An abnormality.

He doesn't belong. He's not worthy.

Fuck.

His heart shatters in a thousand pieces.

Fuck.

Y/N.

Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @adrille88

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927 @dini73

[sweetdreamsjeff]

JEFF BUCKLEY INTERVIEW FOR 25 YEARS OF GRACE BOOK - MERRI CYR

From an interview in 2016 while in Vienna, Austria.

1. Is it fair to say your relationship with Jeff was initially more personal than musical — at what point did you discover his musical talent?

Yes, absolutely, though only for a short time. The way Jeff and I met really blows my mind to this day as it was so beyond subtle, and totally out of our control. It was predestined. We literally bumped into each other three days in a row, in three completely different areas of Manhattan. It was crazy. By the third time, we acknowledged that meeting each other was obviously meant to be and we set up a coffee date. He called the next day and asked where I was living, and when I told him, he freaked and laughingly asked me to stick my head out of my window to see if I could see him. I pulled the phone over and continued talking to him as I stuck my head out and I said no, I can't see you, where are you? He said that he was living a block and a half away from me. We were both on Stanton just south of Houston though I was one building or so up from the corner of Stanton on Allen, and if I had been just one building over, I could've seen him. That was shocker number four. We had a great chat and met the next day at his girlfriend's and walked over to the Jones Diner, which became one of our favourite hangouts. It was at that first meeting that I mentioned that I was a musician with a background in theatre and dance and that I'd been busking all over Canada and Spain and writing songs and was working five part-time jobs and one of them was at First St. Cafe. He laughed and said he had just agreed to sing there the next Thursday, and couldn't believe that additional coincidence, that I worked there, and I promised that I'd be there whether I was working or not. It was during that first real hang that we realized how much we had in common, almost like twins, although he was almost five years older. It was like looking in a mirror. We even dressed the same. Wool pants and boots, suspenders, loose white t-shirts, Pendleton shirts, sometimes a fedora or beret. Very Beat. Kerouac. We loved the same music, Nina Simone, Zeppelin, Cohen, Dylan, The Smiths, it was uncanny. We were both raised by mechanics. I still didn't know about Tim although I was already aware of every other significant folk singer-songwriter of Tim's era, something that really impressed Jeff. My mother was Maria, his was Mary. Needless to say, I didn't care if this guy was going to be any good at that gig, he was definitely my instant brother. He called me 'Gussie'.

But I was at that First St. gig a few days later. There was no p.a., all acoustic, and maybe 20 people there. Some listening, some not at all. The espresso machine, added to the din coming off Houston, was louder than Jeff, and it was hard to hear him but you could tell he was the real thing. He was a bit moody that night, struggling to be heard. I could tell that he sang really well but it wasn't coming through like it should. At the end of that night he mentioned to me that he was starting a new gig on Mondays that he was excited about, at a place called Sin-e at the end of St. Mark's and a few nights later I saw him blow the roof off the place. I wept profusely at times. I couldn't help it. Of course he had us in stitches as well. Jeff was so funny! The place was half-full. It was beyond belief. I had never seen anything like what I saw that night. It was everything I had ever loved being pulled in and synthesized into one guy who was my instant best friend. From that night on it was On. I barely missed a Monday after that until I split NYC the following spring with some help from Jeff.

2. Do you think it was in his destiny to make a record such as Grace?

3. Did you ever hear any of the songs that ended up on Grace? What impact did they have on you? (He was working with Last Goodbye and Lover around the time of Sin-E, if I have my facts straight.)

As far as tracks from Sin-e that ended up on Grace, I mostly remember Mojo Pin and Eternal Life, which were always sung. Maybe I heard pieces of Last Goodbye, which wasn't quite completed yet. And of course the covers that ended up on Grace, those songs were staples in his sets.

You know, the Jeff that I knew was really struggling with songwriting. I don't mean that in any derogatory way at all. I mean, the writing was happening and it was flowing, but I think the tunesmith thing was a struggle. We never went anywhere without our journals, even long before we met. That's just what you did. We would talk about our struggles with that, but Jeff, I don't think was incredibly confident in that aspect of himself, and neither was I. For myself, I had an inkling that I would need about another decade of work to get anywhere near the kind of writing I was shooting for. I think that as far as our friendship went there was nothing that was too out of bounds to talk about. We would eventually talk at length about his father, for example, but he was a little secretive about his writing. This was way before any perceived record business pressure or anything that people talked about later. It was just the natural hunger to get close to the bone with the writing itself and that true artistic ambition that never lets up, and as I had it myself, it was totally normal. We all hid some of our stuff from one another to a certain extent, that's just the game, not wanting to 'spook the horse' I guess.

As far as the covers, there's an old saying that maybe belongs more to a generation like ours, that inherited these ideas about paying your dues by playing covers as a rite of passage, when that idea of apprenticeship in the trade of rock and roll was still alive. This was something that Jeff and I believed in one hundred percent. Guys like us knew thousands of songs inside and out. But the saying was 'sing your covers like originals and your originals like covers' and Jeff did that, you know? He embodied that with the utmost humility and dedication and that was something we bonded on. If some of his songs weren't where he wanted them to be, he bravely workshopped the heck out of them in that public lab that Sin-e became for him. He'd nestle them between these carefully chosen, specifically-curated masterpieces that showed his greatness as a player and singer, and spoke to his soul so deeply that they came out the other side to you. He wasn't pissing around in there.

To me, now, the whole initiation process into musicianship feels totally lost and it's so easy for people to think of Jeff as someone who just woke up one day and was the monster guitar player and singer that he was. He worked at it all of his life in addition to having that innate talent. And one of the major things that I took away from our time together was the blessing of being a part of that passion. Meeting someone who matched mine and showed me that it was beyond ok. That it was the only way. At a tender time in my young life when I really thought I had to reinvent the wheel, one of the major things Jeff taught me was to wear my heroes on my sleeve, he told me that they would eventually lead me to myself, and he was right.

By the late spring of '93, I was twenty years old and I had been in NYC about a year, and I was coming apart at the seams. A lot of people I knew were all junked up and I was creeped out by it. I wasn't doing well, my fatigue was catching up with me. I was feeling really lost and Jeff put me up for a bit and then gave me five hundred bucks to take a week-long Greyhound trip back up to Canada's arctic. I'd basically been away from home since age thirteen and needed to reboot. We were both convinced that I'd be back within a few months and I was certain that I was going to be his guitarist for a while but it just never happened. I ended up moving back to Spain and I got healthy and kept writing. I even wrote an album's worth of songs for him to sing that was a kind of a continuation of some jamming we'd be doing in his new apartment before I left. We kept missing each other and I never saw him again. He never heard that stuff in the end. Live at Sin-e came out the next spring in Canada, and Europe I think, and within that, in the liner notes at the very bottom, awaited the last message I would ever receive from him in the living flesh. It was very moving. Our friendship felt immortalized by those 2 sentences and still does. It marked me.

That Sin-e record proved that he could go in any direction in just 4 songs. I was incredibly proud. Then a year a half later came Grace. I don't know how many tears I cried when I finally heard that. For the both of us. Because he did it! He made the great masterpiece. And I was a part of it. That's how it felt. I didn't stop playing it for a few months straight. After his passing, I didn't listen to any of it for years. A lot of years.

4. How big an influence was Jeff on your own musical career — was that something you discussed with him?

Well, I was immensely influenced, and incredibly reinforced in what I was doing by our friendship, and by my time with him, but I was also, unfortunately, greatly affected by the nature of his passing, and the whole aura around it, and the huge loss, and the massive fame, and you know, all of that stuff that came after, and those are two different Jeff Buckleys.

Jeff got me my very first gig, not only in NYC, but ever, in a real club. I was 19. I had been performing all of my life, and in front of some very big crowds, but never as myself, with my own songs. He really pushed me to do that. He sat right in front of me and never took his eyes off me. He whispered encouragement between songs. It was a terrifying experience. He was so generous with me. Just being with him was so inspiring. It was fire. I moved to NYC to get that answer and I believe that Jeff was one of the angels and messengers for me in my life. I found out that yes, this is what I wanted to do, and I also found out that I wasn't ready. I just wasn't.

It really hit me hard when we lost him. It destroyed me for a long time. I wanted nothing to do with the music business for years after all of that and by the time I was ready for it, it had all changed so much anyway. I was very hurt, and very uncomfortable with everything around it. Confused I guess. Jeff wasn't the only famous friend I had, but certainly the most. I just kept writing and improving, pretending like it never happened. I wasn't chasing anything beyond that. Eventually I found my way in and started making records of my own.

I've never been a real fan of the word career. I'm not sure Jeff was either. I mean, you're an artist! You've dedicated your whole life to something you would probably do for free and people dangle words like that around. Success, that's another one. What did Leonard Cohen say? Success is nothing more than survival? Tom Waits once said, 'It's not enough to go out on a limb, you have to be willing to saw it off'. I mean, some people do that and some don't. I don't know. Jeff did. I did. Obviously, yes, it was something we discussed daily, but not in the way you would suppose. It's just your whole life, because it's the only thing you've got. Like my song 'Travel On' says, 'if you do it, it'll kill you, and if you don't, you'll die inside', so how much choice is really involved? Like Leonard said 'I guess you go for nothing if you want to go that far'. You don't go for nothing, but you have to risk the chance of that. And now, with it all being so DIY, it seems really hard to juggle being the artist with the careerist, more than ever. I've never been any good at the latter. We're from a different time. The heroes that we had in common were the Beautiful Losers and real poets, not conventioneers. For what it's worth.

5. Why do you think Grace has proved to be such an influential — and important — album?

What are my thoughts on Grace now? It came out during that whole bullshit MTV grunge and alternative rock scene that we both despised and didn't feel a part of whatsoever and it kicked ass. It blew minds. It succeeded at everything it was supposed to succeed at. I mean, what can you say about Grace? Can you imagine the combined amount of sheer ambition and pressure that must have been a part of that? To reach as many people as it did? To cut through and compete with all of that endless white noise that was being shoved down our throats and surpass it? And to still have the Art side as well, to appease all of that simultaneously, made it an artistic and commercial masterpiece. It put Jeff on the map. It also successfully married so many things and that took a lot of guts. It was almost too much for one record. Grace really accomplished what it set out to do and I would salute everyone involved with that one. It was really bold. Bold art. Bold business. A really rare combination. Was it Jeff's destiny to make it? Yes. Was it the be all end all for Jeff? I don't think so at all. It was a start! It was a key to everything that would come in the future, and everything Jeff had been holding onto for too long. What a great record. A testament to one of the greatest human beings. A golden soul. It may sound like empty words, but Jeff was exactly what you think he was when you hear and feel that light coming through. That vulnerable and honest sweet purity of heart. His kindness and capacity for love matched his great gift. It was more than the music. Try wrapping your head around that. I don't know the significance of it all. I don't know why I was so lucky to be there, to be that close, and to have him touch my life the way he did. Someday it will be revealed to me.

6. What's the genesis of your song 'Other side'?

Well I wrote it maybe three years after he passed away. It was my first attempt at writing something about him and I had a huge sound in my head. I wrote it on an old Gibson acoustic but heard huge electric guitars in my head like Crazy Horse, like that. It was written extremely quickly, within a night. I guess the song comes from the point of view of the survivor, you know? The one left behind to face real life, or the real world, or whatever you want to call it, with the aging and responsibility and shedding of skins and all of that 'great compromise' that inevitably comes. I hoped that the song would be fairly sublime and honest, you know? Without over-glorifying anything. I think it leaves plenty of room for the imagination but obviously leaves you wondering who got the better deal, because the singer of the song isn't even sure. The whole thing is a complaint and a question and a salute and postcard to this brother you love and miss so much. The 'Other Side' thing has more than one meaning in the song. There's always that possibility you see these people again, you know, on the Other Side, and sometimes that notion is all it takes to get through. It's a nice notion. It's always been my wish to write another song about our time together. Maybe someday. A lighter one maybe.

additional:

One of my major regrets is not trying harder to get a hold of him after Grace, but we were both constantly on the road. It was impossible. His phone was cut off or changed, I couldn't locate him and I didn't even have one. This was pre-internet. I would've had to go back to NYC and he wasn't even there. I was in my own pain as well, my own battles with depression and poverty, and that constant continental drift in my life. How badly I wished I could have been there in those Memphis days, or been around to give him back some of his own positive and nourishing medicine, the kind he had given me, around that time when they were trying to make the follow-up, you know? I mean, I can't even put that into words. All those stories of frustrated rage. Smashing things maybe. That need for perfection. Jeff and I used to stomp on and smash CDs we had just paid money for in fits of anger just to prove a point. Just because the need for the perfect thing was so great. I like to think I could've helped. I don't know. I wish he had been given the chance to live in a paradigm where the weight wasn't all on one or two records, and he was able to record and release all the time. Maybe not tour so much. I don't know enough about that whole time in Jeff's life. I had to stop thinking about all of that and get on with mine at some point. I'll never know the pressure he was under. Not from without. And from within, well, it's just the heartbreak of destiny isn't it? Jeff soldiered through it and gave and gave. I mean, didn't he? He didn't have to do that. We have to be thankful for the light that made him what he was, and the light he gave back to the world.

12/31/2019

Indio's website:

https://indiosaravanja.hearnow.com/

[conking]

So hey con, what's this new anime/manga thing I see on your blog that you've been nonstop posting about? Looks actually pretty nice and the kinda thing I'd be into but I want to look a little more into it and find things out, like it's name for example, before I go diving into the cesspool of the internet for it

this is gonna get long so, tldr: ancient chinese gays! comedy! action! mystery! good meta! immortality! gods!

non-tldr: welcome to hell. specifically, mxtx hell, where a bunch of people yell really loudly about three different novels written by the same author (Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù, aka, mxtx). it’s not actually all the same thing, she just has some very specific aesthetics for her main couples dsfkjgsdfghs here’s a good way to differentiate them.

anyway i’ll give you a summary of the novels and if you find one interesting, please do enjoy your gateway drug because i’ve Never seen someone only read one of these once they start.

first up, Mo Dao Zu Shi / Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation / Founder of Diabolism (it’s got a lot of names, i’m sticking with mdzs)

question: what is MDZS about?

a goth and a prep mutually pining for each other while fighting zombies and solving murders, accidentally adopting a riot of awkward teenagers along the way. 

an uncomfortable look into the ethics of humanity, struggles with internalised homophobia and self-hatred, our stances both as a whole and individually on the complex issues around vilification, what counts as ‘the greater good’, the difficulty of forgiveness, and how ‘doing what’s right’ doesn’t always mean the same thing for different people.

magic and flying swords and family

answer: all of the above and hot damn is it fun. this is probably the one you meant when you said anime, cuz guess what? it has one and it’s GORGEOUS.

10/10. be warned, you WILL cry, you WILL want to fight the author, and you WILL love it. it’s incredibly angsty at parts and incredibly funny always and the romance kills me dead every time i think about it. slow toasty burn, with a super good plot that gets deeper and deeper as it goes. if you re-read the novel after you finish it you’ll find so many things you thought were insignificant on the first pass suddenly kicking you in the chest.

warnings for [SPOILERS]: dubious consent kissing, drunken touching, consensual rape kink. also starvation, slavery, genocide, gore, and body horror. mentions of incest and it’s consequences.

read it HERE, watch it HERE, listen to the audio drama HERE, watch the live action HERE

my favourite of the three is Tian Guan Ci Fu, or Heavenly Official’s Blessing.

tgcf is about a sexy demon pirate tagging along with a trash collecting disney princess who is very bad at staying in heaven (where he belongs). they go around systematically digging up every single piece of dirt on everybody ever - including, unfortunately, themselves. //sips tea/ delicious. 

it’s basically an action/detective novel, heavy on the comedy and angst. read this for introspection, self acceptance, growth, forgiveness, endless torture, incredible pain, suffering like you’ve never known, the effects of war and genocide, results of abuse, beautiful imagery, Gundam, endless devotion, unconditional support, and the knowledge that hualian exists and invented romance. to put it another way:

if you like plot filled slow burn with healthy dynamics and a lot of trust, this is the series for you. 10000/10 i will take this novel to my grave PLEASE read tgcf. did i mention it’s also getting a donghua sometime soon?

warnings for [SPOILERS]: gore, cannibalism (kinda), plus child abuse and lots of body horror. gaslighting and manipulation feature pretty heavily in places (especially books 4 and 5). severe depression, anxiety, suicide, and self-depreciation are all dealt with as well.

read the first 21 chapters HERE, and you can find the rest on @ yummysuika ‘s pinned tweet, including the extras! the manhua is starting in a few days, and the donghua will be out next year!! wOOO

finally, we have the first book mxtx published, Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System (i’m not touching the cn phonetics for that, we’re going sv for short).

to quote a tweet i saw one time, sv is about a shitty millennial litcrit who gets sucked into the novel he hates as the main villain, and how he struggles to survive while his overpowered disciple crytypes his way to true love. this is the fun one! [thinks about meta] …….the fun one [thinks about any character other than the mc] f-

it’s got a lot more web novel tropes and is generally an easier read. sv is full of hijinks and shenanigans and the tortured screams of a 21st century man who really just wants to lie around and eat good food, but keeps being dragged into everything against his will. comedic misunderstandings galore up in this bitch, character development and relationship growth gets Much heavier towards the end, and if you’re looking for a fun read to pass the time! this is the one! just don’t think about it. because it’s written from the perspective of an idiot with 2 braincells total, we also get to enjoy the Epitome of unreliable narrator syndrome.

overall 8.5/10, would recommend. it sets up and breaks a Lot of stereotypes, and the satire is *chef’s kiss*. don’t be fooled by the way the mc sees the characters, ya gotta look at it from their pov too. it’s getting a donghua in 2020, and the manhua will be out (again) sometime soon as well! yehaw!

warnings for [SPOILERS]: student-teacher relationship, forced kissing, some kinda dubious-consent touching, and a scene where one character thinks the other is going to rape them (nothing happens). additional warnings for violence, mentions of gore, slavery, bullying, and child abuse. (i haven’t read the last few chapters, but unless something Wild happens, that should cover things.)

read it HERE

one thing all mxtx novels have in common is the awesome side characters. you’ll probably end up loving a couple of them more than the protagonists and that’s just how it be. we’re all crying here. another thing they have in common is good plots. whether you’re interested in characters, plot development, deep conceptualisation, romance - it’s all there. just don’t go in looking for hot gay smex, cause that really ain’t what it’s about.

all of these are easier to get into if you have some knowledge of xianxia/wuxia/xuanhuan tropes, but it’s not a must! the translators provide great footnotes, so just google a phrase or refer back to them if you get stuck. you can read them in whatever order you want, they’re not connected at all, but if you’re new to the whole thing i’d recommend starting with the mdzs donghua or sv. as much as i love it, tgcf isn’t the best choice to start with.

[uesugi-miu]

We've now come to an end~

Firstly let me say that I was so happy translating Kageie. I'm so proud of him, I'm so proud of being the Uesugi and I'm so proud of myself.

I will not put his other ends so...another 1-2 years in SLBP maybe...and when his MS released in SLBP, May anyone find missing details or additive informations or even alternate translation here.

Thanks to anyone who interested or like my translation. ❤️❤️❤️

--

:: Kageie MS #19 ( END ) ::

--

Miu : 「......Yes.」

Kageie : 「Babbling again huh, Yocchan.」

Miu : 「Are you fine with it?」

Kageie : 「With what?」

Miu : 「About Matsumoto-san...I heard you stop him from leaving......」

Kageie : 「So you heard that too...Really, Yocchan is such a pain......」

Kageie-san steps on his long shadow, lets his feeling show with a sudden smile.

He's seemingly sad but acts just like he's already get over it.

Kageie : 「In this world, people whose parents were killed is not only me. You too. Didn't your farther die in the battlefield?」

Miu : 「That's correct but......」

My dad was not killed before my very eyes......

The sorrow somehow remains in my heart but still, I have my mom and also Yahiko.

My words just can't get out of my mouth. Kageie-san senses it so he looks at me and nods.

Kageie : 「If you pity me, stop it. It's common thing, happened in every corner in the world such this. There's nothing special about it.」

Miu : 「......It may happen everyday but for someone in the family...each and every life is special, isn't it? Your parents and your brother too...For Kageie-san, their lives are irreplaceable, isn't that what you feel?」

( That's why even now, he still holds his brother's amulet so dear and also built that gravestone. )

Kageie : 「......」

Kageie-san says no more. He's only coughing to clear his throat once then giving me a grin and uses one of his hand tousles my hair affectionately.

( Kageie-san...... )

He says nothing at all but even so I can perceive that our feeling communicated.

This person's heart that I never seems to understand. I know now that I've already gotten through even if it's just a little.

( That alone is enough...I'll keep getting closer, little by little, as long as I'll get to know more...... )

I stick even closer, try never to let our two shadows separated. Kageie-san also holds my hand, enveloping mine in his.

.

.

At the alleyway before reaching the mansion, we see small shadows.

( Eh? There...those kids...... )

Those kids that closed to Kageie-san.

They're crouching down, forming a circle as they're setting up strategy.

When they noticed us, they stand and move our way rapidly.

( Urgh...What will they do now...... )

Unconsciously, I put myself on guard. Since last time, they came to throw stones at the mansion's wall. Kageie-san's awared of the hole in the wall too.

The children stand before us and holding out their hands without any hesitation.

Within those small hands are...cucumbers, eggplants and many vegetables.

Kageie : 「Why...all these.」

Boy 1 : 「As an apology.」

Kageie : 「What apology?」

Boy 1 : 「Our dads told us to apologize because we all treated you as a traitor......」

Boy 2 : 「Even though I knew Kageie is a good guy but I...I still doubted you. Please forgive me!」

Girl 1 : 「Please forgive us!」

Everyone bows down their heads all at once. Quietness goes on for a little while.

Kageie-san then addresses the children over their heads with his serious look.

Kageie : 「One condition required.」

Boy 1 : 「Eh......!」

The children raise up their faces one by one, showing their uneasy expressions. Gulping down their saliva, they wait for Kageie-san to continue.

Kageie : 「Come to play again. That's the condition.」

He lets out a broadly grin then one of the girl shakes her neck up and down enthusiastically.

Girl 1 : 「Umm! We'll come! We'll definitely come!」

Boy 1 : 「I'll make bamboo butterfly again! It will hop higher than last time!」

Kageie : 「I know. I know. Just stop being noisy and go home already. Your family are worried by now.」

Then the children gave him all their gifts so that one of his arm was full of vegetables.

Boy 1 : 「See ya, Kageie!」

Girl 1 : 「Bye~! See you tomorrow~!」

They ran off energeticly towards the setting sun but just a second later, a boy runs back with fast speed then he stops in front of me and fixing his gaze on me.

Miu : 「What's wrong hmm?」

Boy 1 : 「So to say, you weren't a guy! Are you Kageie's "Good girl"?」

Miu : 「 ! 」

The boy laughs mischievously and quickly runs away.

Heat rises straight up to my face.

( ......How come he's so mature for his age...... )

Kageie : 「......」

Kageie-san says nothing. He only smirks and stares maliciously at me.

.

.

『Good girl』......Whatever was said......our relationship has no progess though.

A moment before entering our individual bedding, we silently embrace one another.

Miu : 「......Good night.」

Kageie : 「Night.」

We exchange our good night and so...that's it...never a thing happens beyond this point......

.

.

After hearing Kageie-san breathes out his gentle sleep sound, I open the sliding door quietly to take a peek inside.

Kageie-san doesn't go out aimlessly anymore. I'm really really glad that he sleeps soundly just like this.

But......

Kageie : 「......」

In a corner of my heart, I'm also troubled with that face. He's sleeping so well that I cannot help but plunged into that thought.

Miu : 「......Even so he said 『tell me something about you which noone else knows』......」

Just after I finish my word, Kageie-san's eyes unexpectedly opened. He then turns over his body to me.

( Eh!? He was awaked!? )

Kageie : 「"Stop it", wasn't that what it meant......」

His whisper sounds very irritated so that I almost can't bear and feel like running away.

Miu : 「......I'm so sorry. You don't like it. You already told me so......」

Kageie : 「Huhhh......You got it wrong.」

He raises half of his body above the bedding then fixes his gaze my way.

Kageie : 「I...I had done terrible thing to you......or rather say, forcible.」

He said it sinfully so that I finally recall the incident.

( Terrible thing......perhaps that's when...... )

『Miu : 「Don't tell me......Kageie-san did that on purpose to make me reject you?」 』

( I see...so the truth is...he's trying to treasure me. )

I'm glad but at the same time feeling frustrated.

Miu : 「For me...that night when Kageie-san came back to the castle. When I felt your warmth on my skin, I'd experienced the real truth that Kageie-san is truly alive......It was such a great happiness so...more...I'd rather feel your life more......」

When I said it like that, Kageie-san's line of sight was loitering in midair, searching for a word to say. Just when his eyes catch mine again, he suddenly takes off his nightcloth.

Miu : 「Eh......」

Kageie : 「Really, I never think I'll be seduced by you.」

Miu : 「What of...seduce...I didn't......」

Kageie : 「What...You've just talked about that kind of thing, haven't you?」

Miu : 「That...kind of thing, is it......right.」

I was taken aback but Kageie-san smiles at me then slowly sets me down, peering into my eyes. His gaze is so tender yet filled with burning fire.

Boom. Boom. My heart pounds noisily.

Kageie : 「......If you will touch, all of me...is yours......」

He grips on my hand, leading it the way to touch his arms......his chest......

( So warm...... )

Sound of his heartbeat circulated along with his body warmth certainly help me to acknowledge how true he's breathing in life.

Kageie : 「Come now.」

This time, he takes both of my arms, wrapping around his neck.

Our faces draw closer. Naturally, our lips starting to touch then they become deeply connected, deeply entwined, savoring each other. Flame is now burning gradually inside our mouths, taking on even more heat.

Miu : 「............tsu............」

Our lips slightly apart just to blend in again and again.

Before I know it, my obi was untied and not even a second delay, my skin was exposed to the night air.

His skilful hand slips in, toying with my body. Sweet ache's flooding into me, coaxing me to moan in high voice.

Kageie : 「Very good......more, your voice......let me hear it more.」

He burns me feverishly. Without stopping, his body heat fills into me at a stretch.

Kageie : 「Here too.」

Again my hands was led, crawling, caressing over his sturdy body. The area between his eyebrows slightly crumpled everytime our movements match.

Kageie : 「......You're amazing......better than I imagine......」

Miu : 「Kageie-san......」

Kageie : 「......Un.......tsu......Miu......」

Low breath he's leaking out together with his painful groan is so sexy.

( Ah...Ahh......I will never ever want to let go of this man...... )

I wish, night time that was dark and long will turn itself into something gentle and affectionate for him......

I secretly make a prayer just when our overlapping bodies delicatedly engraved as one.

[nakedecon]

diet that actually works

alright everyone. i'm about to share with you a diet that is super easy to stick to and actually yields results.

now, just a disclaimer, this may not be as fast/extreme as some of you would like, but i can guarantee you all that this pace allows you to be consistent and prevents you from constantly falling into a binge cycle.

within a month of starting this meal plan, i have lost 13lbs. that is an average of 3.5lbs a week.

average daily intake: 800 calories

BREAKFAST

EVERY morning, i drink a profast chocolate shake. they're sold at a local metabolic weight loss center, and they are admittedly pricey, but they are definitely worth it. if you can find a similar/cheaper substitute, even better.

i also ALWAYS drink coffee with a packet of splenda and .25-.5 cup of cashew milk. the foods you eat on this diet are pretty limited so i need my caffeine in the morning, as well as some fat to keep me satiated.

profast shake: 100 calories, 7g carbs, 1.5g fat, 15g protein

1-2 cups of coffee: 20 calories, 3g carbs, 1g fat, .5g protein

LUNCH

for school, i only pack one thing: a very, very basic salad. it encourages me to stick to smaller portion sizes and it also relieves my growling stomach at just the right time of day. if i ever am feeling weak/faint, i will pick up leftover scraps/snacks from my friends and classmates.

chopped romaine (2 cups): 16 calories, 3.2g carbs, .2g fat, 0g protein *2g dietary fiber*

grilled chicken breast (1 oz): 53 calories, 0g carbs, 2.1g fat, 8g protein

sliced cucumber (.5 cup): 8 calories, 1.9g carbs, 0g fat, .3g protein

lite ken's balsamic vinegrette (2 tbsp): 60 calories, 3g carbs, 4.5g fat, 0g protein

it really is essential to have some source of protein—i have struggled for years to implement a plant-based diet in my household. given that i'm an 18 year old living with my parents, i really did not get much of a say in dinner selection. a meat protein, however, has the ideal macronutrients ratio for this diet, and also will keep you the most full throughout the day while also repairing your muscles after heavy workouts.

while you also may assume that you can go without the salad dressing, please know that the dressing often times contains your highest amount of fat for the day. as i'm sure you know, you will be very constipated during this diet and i suggest sticking to natural means of achieving bowel movements—so stick to coffee and keep this portion of fat in your diet.

DINNER

i am very privileged to have a mother willing to work with me on this diet, and i am very grateful for the work she puts into preparing my dinners. while we do switch up the dinner menu every night to avoid monotony, it is ALWAYS a vegetable paired with a meat protein.

typical vegetables: broccoli, asparagus, cauliflower, zucchini, brussels sprouts

typical proteins: chicken, salmon, turkey, pork tenderloin

i try to eat as early in the evening as possible, around 6:30pm, so my body has plenty of time to digest and also burn off any additional calories before i go to bed. to avoid late night snacking, i focus on homework or watch youtube videos, specifically mukbangs or 10,000 calorie challenges. if i really cannot resist the urge, my go-to treat is 1 outshine fruit popsicle. the no sugar ones are 25 calories and they're just the right size to satisfy me. it also makes me think that i'm cheating on the diet, so having just one is enough to keep me from going back.

EXERCISE / WORKOUTS

this is so important for this diet, and i definitely credit it for speeding up my weight loss process. even as someone undoubtedly suffering from body dysmorphia, i am starting to see positive changes in my physical state. my legs are slimmer and have more defined contours, showing off my muscles. my stomach is MUCH flatter than i was at my starting weight, and my hipbones actually protrude out.

i play lacrosse for my school, meaning i exercise roughly 4-5 days a week. practice extends for 2 hours, while games last 50 min, plus our 1 hour warm-ups.

i'm definitely not saying you NEED to pick up a sport in order to do well, but i am telling you that being obligated to teammates and a coach really pushes me to workout every weekday, and prevents me from excusing myself from exercising.

before practice every day, our team runs 1 mile together, with the average pace being 6.5mph. at my weight, 150lbs, that burns me roughly 100 calories.

during actual practice, we do a lot of jogging/sprinting throughout all of the drills, but we also wait in lineups and whatnot, so when i calculate my burned calories in myfitnesspal, i always underestimate the time of my workout. instead of logging 2 hours of lacrosse, i typically log 35 minutes, which burns 320 calories for me. i'd rather underestimate than overestimate.

for those of you that are not committed to a sport: i highly recommend purchasing the p90x package. once my lacrosse season ends, i will be turning to that as my form of exercise. p90x provides a great workout plan for those who are specifically looking to become lean, rather than bulky, while still building defined muscle. i'm pretty sure the average p90x workout burns around 450 calories, and if you pair that with a mile run, that'll give you a total of -550 calories a day.

PLEASE do not skip this aspect of the diet— if you think you can just create a calorie deficit without implementing some form of exercise and strength training, you are not going to get the results that you want. yes, you will lose weight. but that weight will be a combination of fat AND muscle.

the more muscle you have, the higher your BMR is, simply because it requires more energy to maintain muscle than fat. in addition, having muscle will make you look much more toned rather than flabby/one-dimensional. i promise you that you will not bulk up like a body-builder if you eat protein or workout. instead, you're going to achieve a flat stomach/abs and toned arms/legs. the only way you would bulk up is if you eat a caloric surplus, so you have nothing to worry about.

ADDITIONAL POINTERS

cut out oils. this is so so important— oils contain way too much fat and way too many calories. your body needs to be using the fat it already has for energy, not new sources of fat that you put into your body

the macronutrients ratio: 50% protein, 30% carbohydrates, 20% fat. you want to really boost your protein intake in order to repair your muscles after working out. carbohydrates also provide your body easily-accessible energy, but a majority of those carbs should come from vegetables.

NO fruit. fruit contains way too much sugar and while they do contain fiber, you can do without them.

NO grains. grains, such as pasta and bread, are extremely high in calories and, honestly, do not really keep you full. i understand eating a bagel right before an extreme workout in order to get some energy, but grains really do not provide much sustenance and i highly suggest you do not indulge.

gastrointestinal issues. yes, you are going to be constipated. stick to coffee and the salad dressing as natural laxatives, but if you NEED a bowel movement, consider drinking smooth move tea. or milk of magnesia. and a TON of water. as someone who often suffers from painful bloating, i recommend buying gasx chewables— they are so relieving and they actually taste like candy, without having any calories.

buy a lifewater. lifewater is my saving grace. by purchasing a 1L bottle, it encourages me to drink SO much water throughout the day. i normally keep it room temperature and i end up drinking over 3L within 24 hours, and i am TERRIBLE at reminding myself to hydrate. water is so so important for this diet, especially if you are working out often. it also encourages more bowel movements and prevents your body from retaining too much water.

avoiding a binge. i actually keep a list of foods in my notes app. it features a ton of meals/snacks that i am dying to indulge in. for some reason, it helps me. also, try to remind yourself that the primitive part of your brain is fueling your irrational cravings, but your advanced brain is control of your motor functions. YOU are in control of whether or not you grab snacks and feed yourself, NOT your cravings.

feel free to send me any messages if you have any questions! hope this works for you all!

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

Switching Lanes With St. Vincent

By Molly Young

January 22, 2019

Jacket (men’s), $4,900, pants (men’s), $2,300, by Dior / Men shoes, by Christian Louboutin / Rings (throughout) by Cartier

On a cold recent night in Brooklyn, St. Vincent appeared onstage in a Saint Laurent smoking jacket to much clapping and hooting, gave the crowd a deadpan look, and said, “Without being reductive, I'd like to say that we haven't actually done anything yet.” Pause. “So let's do something.”

She launched into a cover of Lou Reed's “Perfect Day”: an arty torch-song version that made you really wonder whom she was thinking about when she sang it. This was the elusive chanteuse version of St. Vincent, at least 80 percent leg, with slicked-back hair and pale, pale skin. She belted, sipped from a tumbler of tequila (“Oh, Christ on a cracker, that's strong”), executed little feints and pounces, flung the mic cord away from herself like a filthy sock, and spat on the stage a bunch of times. Nine parts Judy Garland, one part GG Allin.

If the Garland-Allin combination suggests that St. Vincent is an acquired taste, she's one that has been acquired by a wide range of fans. The crowd in Brooklyn included young women with Haircuts in pastel fur and guys with beards of widely varying intentionality. There was a woman of at least 90 years and a Hasidic guy in a tall hat, which was too bad for whoever sat behind him. There were models, full nuclear families, and even a solitary frat bro. St. Vincent brings people together.

If you chart the career of Annie Clark, which is St. Vincent's civilian name, you will see what start-up founders and venture capitalists call “hockey-stick growth.” That is, a line that moves steadily in a northeast direction until it hits an “inflection point” and shoots steeply upward. It's called hockey-stick growth because…it looks like a hockey stick.

Dress, by Balmain

The toe of the stick starts with Marry Me, Clark's debut solo album, which came out a decade ago and established a few things that would become essential St. Vincent traits: her ability to play a zillion instruments (she's credited on the album with everything from dulcimer to vibraphone), her highbrow streak (Shakespeare citations), her goofy streak (“Marry me!” is an Arrested Development bit), and her oceanic library of musical references (Kate Bush, Steve Reich, uh…D'Angelo!). The blade of the stick is her next four albums, one of them a collaboration with David Byrne, all of them confirming her presence as an enigma of indie pop and a guitar genius. The stick of the stick took a non-musical detour in 2016, when Clark was photographed canoodling with (now ex-) girlfriend Cara Delevingne at Taylor Swift's mansion, followed a few months later by pictures of Clark holding hands with Kristen Stewart. That brought her to the realm of mainstream paparazzi-pictures-in-the-Daily-Mail celebrity. Finally, the top of the stick is Masseduction, the 2017 album she co-produced with Jack Antonoff, which revealed St. Vincent to be not only experimental and beguiling but capable of turning out incorrigible bangers.

Masseduction made the case that Clark could be as much a pop star as someone like Sia or Nicki Minaj—a performer whose idiosyncrasies didn't have to be tamped down for mainstream success but could actually be amplified. The artist Bruce Nauman once said he made work that was like “going up the stairs in the dark and either having an extra stair that you didn't expect or not having one that you thought was going to be there.” The idea applies to Masseduction: Into the familiar form of a pop song Clark introduces surprising missteps, unexpected additions and subtractions. The album reached No. 10 on the Billboard 200. The David Bowie comparisons got louder.

This past fall, she released MassEducation (not quite the same title; note the addition of the letter a), which turned a dozen of the tracks into stripped-down piano songs. Although technically off duty after being on tour for nearly all of 2018, Clark has been performing the reduced songs here and there in small venues with her collaborator, the composer and pianist Thomas Bartlett. Whereas the Masseduction tour involved a lot of latex, neon, choreographed sex-robot dance moves, and LED screens, these recent shows have been comparatively austere. When she performed in Brooklyn, the stage was empty, aside from a piano and a side table. There were blue lights, a little piped-in fog for atmosphere, and that was it. It looked like an early-'90s magazine ad for premium liquor: art-directed, yes, but not to the degree that it Pinterested itself.

Coat, (men’s) $8,475, by Versace / Shoes, by Christian Louboutin / Tights, by Wolford

The performance was similarly informal. Midway through one song, Clark forgot the lyrics and halted. “It takes a different energy to be performing [than] to sit in your sweatpants watching Babylon Berlin,” she said. “Wherever I am, I completely forget the past, and I'm like. ‘This is now.’ And sometimes this means forgetting song lyrics. So, if you will…tell me what the second fucking verse is.”

Clark has only a decade in the public eye behind her, but she's accomplished a good amount of shape-shifting. An openness to the full range of human expression, in fact, is kind of a requirement for being a St. Vincent fan. This is a person who has appeared in the front row at Chanel and also a person who played a gig dressed as a toilet, a person profiled in Vogue and on the cover of Guitar World.

The day before her Brooklyn show, I sat with Clark to find out what it's like to be utterly unstructured, time-wise, after a long stretch of knowing a year in advance that she had to be in, like, Denmark on July 4 and couldn't make plans with friends.

“I've been off tour now for three weeks,” she said. “When I say ‘off,’ I mean I didn't have to travel.”

This doesn't mean she hasn't traveled—she went to L.A. to get in the studio with Sleater-Kinney and also hopped down to Texas, where she grew up—just that she hasn't been contractually obligated to travel. What else did she do on her mini-vacation?

“I had the best weekend last weekend. I woke up and did hot Pilates, and then I got a bunch of new modular synths, and I set 'em up, and I spent ten hours with modular synths. Plugging things in. What happens when I do this? I'm unburdened by a full understanding of what's going on, so I'm very willing to experiment.”

Coat, by Boss

Jacket, and coat, by Boss / Necklace, by Cartier

Like a child?

“Exactly. Did you ever get those electronics kits as a kid for like 20 bucks from RadioShack? Where you connect this wire to that one and a light bulb turns on? It's very much like that.”

There's an element of chaos, she said, that makes synth noodling a neat way to stumble on melodies that she might not have consciously assembled. She played with the synths by herself all day. “I don't stop, necessarily,” she said, reflecting on what the idea of “vacation” means to someone for whom “job” and “things I love to do” happen to overlap more or less exactly. “I just get to do other things that are really fun. I'm in control of my time.” She had plans to see a show at the New Museum, read books, play music and see movies alone, always sitting on the aisle so she could make a quick escape if necessary. But she will probably keep working. St. Vincent doesn't have hobbies.

When it manifests in a person, this synergy between life and work is an almost physically perceptible quality, like having brown eyes or one leg or being beautiful. Like beauty, it's a result of luck, and a quality that can invoke total despair in people who aren't themselves allotted it. This isn't to say that Clark's career is a stroke of unearned fortune but that her skills and character and era and influences have collided into a perfect storm of realized talent. And to have talent and realize that talent and then be beloved by thousands for exactly the thing that is most special about you: Is there anything a person could possibly want more? Is this why Annie Clark glows? Or is it because she's super pale? Or was it because there was a sound coming through the window where we sat that sounded thrillingly familiar?

“Is Amy Sedaris running by?” Clark asked, her spine straightening. A man with a boom mic was visible on the sidewalk outside. Another guy in a baseball cap issued instructions to someone beyond the window. Someone said “Action!” and a figure in vampire makeup and a clown wig streaked across the sidewalk. Someone said “Cut!” and Clark zipped over for a look. It was, in fact, Amy Sedaris, her clown wig bobbing in the 44-degree breeze. The mic operator was gagging with laughter. It seemed like a good omen, this sighting, like the New York City version of Groundhog Day: If an Amy Sedaris streaks across your sight line in vampire makeup, spring will arrive early.

Blazer (men’s) $1,125, by Paul Smith

Another thing Clark does when off tour is absorb all the input that she misses when she's locked into performance mode. On a Monday afternoon, she met artist Lisa Yuskavage at an exhibition of her paintings at the David Zwirner gallery in Chelsea. Yuskavage was part of a mini-boom of figurative painting in the '90s, turning out portraits of Penthouse centerfolds and giant-jugged babes with Rembrandt-esque skill. It made sense that Clark wanted to meet her: Both women make art about the inner lives of female figures, both are sorcerers of technique, both are theatrical but introspective, both have incendiary style. The gallery was a white cube, skylit, with paintings around the perimeter. Yuskavage and Clark wandered through at a pace exclusive to walking tours of cultural spaces, which is to say a few steps every 10 to 15 seconds with pauses between for the proper amount of motionless appreciation.

The paintings were small, all about the size of a human head, and featured a lot of nipples, tufted pudenda, tan lines, majestic asses, and protruding tongues. “I like the idea of possessing something by painting it,” Yuskavage said. “That's the way I understand the world. Like a dog licking something.”

Clark looked at the works with the expression people make when they're meditating. She was wearing elfin boots, black pants, and a shirt with a print that I can only describe as “funky”—“funky” being an adjective that looks good on very few people, St. Vincent being one of them—and sipped from a cup of espresso furnished by a gallery minion. After she finished the drink, there was a moment when she looked blankly at the saucer, unsure what to do with it, and then stuck it in the breast pocket of her funky shirt for the rest of the tour.

A painting called Sweetpuss featured a bubble-butted blonde in beaded panties with nipples so upwardly erect they actually resembled little boners. Yuskavage based the underwear on a pair of real underwear that she'd constructed herself from colored balls and string. “I've got the beaded panties if you ever need 'em,” she said to Clark. “They might fit you. They're tiny.”

Earrings, by Erickson Beamon

“I'm picturing you going to the Garment District,” Clark said.

“There was a lot of going to the Garment District.”

As they completed their lap around the white cube, Clark interjected with questions—what year was this? were you considering getting into film? how long did these sittings take? what does “mise-en-scène” mean?—but mainly listened. And she is a good listener: an inquisitive head tilter, an encouraging nodder, a non-fidgeter, a maker of eye contact. She found analogues between painting and music. When Yuskavage mourned the death of lead white paint (due to its poisonous qualities, although, as the artist pointed out, “It's not that big a deal to not get lead poisoning; just don't eat the paint”), Clark compared it to recording's transition from tape to digital.

“Back in the day, if you wanted to hear something really reverberant”—she clapped; it reverberated—“you'd have to be in a room like this and record it, or make a reverb chamber,” Clark said. “Now we have digital plug-ins where you can say, ‘Oh, I want the acoustic resonance of the Sistine Chapel.’ Great. Somebody's gone and sampled that and created an algorithm that sounds like you're in the Sistine Chapel.”

Lately, she said, she's been way more into devices that betray their imperfections. That are slightly out of tune, or capable of messing up, or less forgiving of human intervention. “Air moving through a room,” Clark said. “That's what's interesting to me.”

They kept pacing. The paintings on the wall evolved. Conversation turned to what happens when you grow as an artist and people respond by flipping out.

“I always find it interesting when someone wants you to go back to ‘when you were good,’ ” Yuskavage said. “This is why we liked you.”

“I can't think of anybody where I go, ‘What's great about that artist is their consistency, ” Clark said. “Anything that stays the same for too long dies. It fails to capture people's imagination.”

Coat (mens), $1,150, by Acne Studios

They were identifying a problem with fans, of course, not with themselves. It was an implicit identification, because performers aren't permitted to critique their audiences, and it was definitely the artistic equivalent of a First World problem—an issue that arises only when you're so resplendent with talent that you not only nail something enough to attract adoration but nail it hard enough to get personally bored and move on—but it was still valid. They were talking about the kind of fan who clings to a specific tree when he or she could be roaming through a whole forest. In St. Vincent's case, a forest of prog-rock thickets and jazzy roots and orchestral brambles and mournful-ballad underlayers, all of it sprouting and molting under a prodigious pop canopy. They were talking about the strange phenomenon of people getting mad at you for surprising them. Even if the surprise is great.

Molly Young is a writer living in New York City. She wrote about Donatella Versace in the April 2018 issue of GQ.

A version of this story originally appeared in the February 2019 issue with the title "Switching Lanes With St. Vincent."

[drferox]

Have you talked about dobermans before? My family got one a year ago, and he's just too adorable, though he needs a lot of constant training and patience to be manageable(especially since he has european lineage, he's very big). But I heard they have some genetic conditions, and end up dying sooner than other big breeds. Hopefully, with good care he'll live a long and healthy life(our rottweiler is 13 yo, and still has all her teeth, and just a bit of cataracts), but I'd still like to know more

The Doberman is one of my special favorite breeds, despite their unfortunate medical concerns. I love their natural ears, I just adore them, and wish more breed enthusiasts would just let the dogs be the way they’re born instead of insisting on cosmetically altering them in such a useless way. 

Before I go into a lot of detail about this special breed, please note the general Disclaimer: These posts are about the breed from a veterinary viewpoint as seen in clinical practice, i.e. the problems we are faced with. It’s not the be-all and end-all of the breed and is not to make a judgement about whether the breed is right for you. If you are asking for an opinion about these animals in a veterinary setting, that is what you will get. It’s not going to be all sunshine and cupcakes, and is not intended as a personal insult against your favorite breed. This is general advice for what is common, often with a scientific consensus but sometimes based on personal experiences, and is not a guarantee of what your dog is going to encounter in their life.

How can you not love those ears, just they way they are?

I haven’t met a Doberman yet who hasn’t been special in some way. I’m particularly fond of them in their senior years when this breed finally seems to develop some grasp of dignity. In their youth, these dogs often have a case of no brains or no brakes, causing them to have multiple accidents and misadventures. While crashing into other dogs and inanimate objects may leave a dog with relatively little injuries, the worst offender I had to treat required three major stitch ups, each a month apart. This was a fair effort considering that the dog had been strictly confined for two weeks after each surgery, and included having such adventures as running through a hedge and impaling self on stick. He definitely either had no brakes, or no brains. 

For a breed so energetic and prone to misadventures as pups, it seems ironic that the breed is well known for Von Willebrands Disease, a blood clotting disorder. 

Von Willebrands Disease (VWD) varies in how much of a problem affected dogs present with, and dogs with only one allele will not be as affected as dogs with two. In addition, excitement or splenic contraction can temporatily increase the amount of Von Willebrand factor circulating in the blood. 

Before genetic testing was available, a lecturer of mine defined reference ranges for Von Willebrand factor in Dobermans that were normal, carriers or affected. He’d hoped that by screening dogs, breeders would be able to eliminate carrier dogs from the gene pool, and thus the disease. 

However certain breeders quickly realized that making their dogs excited or forcing them to do strenuous exercise before the blood test would temporarily increase their Von Willebrand factor, and so a carrier of the disease would briefly show normal levels of the factor in the blood. Certain breeders would consistently do this so that their dogs, their lines, remained ‘desirable’ and without fault. 

This was understandably very frustrating from a veterinary standpoint. Here you had a perfectly useful test for identifying carriers for a genetic disease to help breeders make better decisions about breeding these dogs, and people were cheating on it. Fortunately, with the advent of a genetic test, cheating in this way is not effective. 

A second condition the Doberman is very well known for is Wobbler Syndrome, or cervical spondylomyelopathy. This is particularly common in larger males, possibly attributable to the rapid growth rate, causes a weakness in the vertebrae of the neck which compresses the spine. It’s treatable with surgery, if you’ve got a large wad of cash to blow, though some mild cases may attempt conservative treatment. In general the breed seems to have an increased vulnerability for other intervertebral disc disease, which are likely related. 

Demodex mange is yet another classical Doberman disease, particularly juvenile demodecosis in puppies. There’s probably a very interesting immune system deficit in this breed causing this predisposition, but I don’t yet know what it is. In any case, demodex are my favorite parasite. They’re cool little critters that have no anus….

… and I’m always happy to see them because they’re non-infectious. That means they won’t jump onto other dogs, or humans like me. They’re annoying to treat, but they are treatable, though often require a long course of treatment. Fortunately more and more over the counter flea products are also proving effective against demodex, so this may be less of an issue in the future. 

Dilated Cardiomyopathy (DCM) is possibly the biggest killer of Dobies, and when they get it, they get it bad. Some surveys suggest that a full third of these dogs succumb to this condition, and the average survival time for Dobermans diagnosed with this condition is only about a third of the time for other breeds. There’s not a clear nutritional link in this breed either, though carnitine and taurine supplementation is unlikely to do any harm. Unfortunately it seems that once it develops, there’s not much we can do about it. We can keep them comfortable for a while, but we will lose that fight. There are genetic tests available for this now, but time will tell how useful they are. I’m hopeful. 

The breed is certainly deep chested enough to be prone to Gastric Dilatation Volvulus (GDV or bloat), especially in younger dogs that insist on running around like lunatics after a big meal, but it has not been as common in my experience as it has been in other breeds. 

And it is worth screening for hip dysplasia, even though only 17-18% of Dobermans seem to have hip dysplasia, despite breeding efforts that number hasn’t improved in the last decade. Personally I’d like to see more uptake of Pennhip screening instead of just the standard view. 

So there are a few conditions bothering the breed. There are also some neuropathies/myopathies that they are diagnosed with, but they may potentially be linked to wobbler syndrome. 

All of that being said, they do grow up into beautiful, dignified older dogs if given the chance. Dobies that have earned their silver muzzles have been some of my favorite patients. 

[thinkaboutrunning]

Things I can't run without

I know, running is supposed to be the most basic of all exercises, except maybe walking. We should be able to run without any additional gear, even without special clothing. And if we must do it that way, we certainly can. But, it's so much more fun and so much more pleasant when we arm ourselves with available gadgets and gizmos. I've tried many and kept only a few I can't run without, sort of. From run trackers to podcast players, here's what I use.

I started "au naturel" wearing my ancient sports shorts from high school (I was lucky they made them so stretchy that I could fit in) and sneakers I bought for walking. They were comfortable and felt great. Sneakers were already moulded by my feet. Those were simple, chafing and blister-free runs.

The more serious I became about it, though, the more I started reading online and offline about things advertised as "essential" to improve my running. To tell the truth, I was mostly interested in finding a way to measure the distance I ran. Those were the days just before GPS became omnipresent. Sometimes I drove the route I was going to run to measure the distance on the car's odometer; on one occasion I even talked a friend into following me in a car. He avoids me ever since.

I turned to the internet, bought a Nike+ pedometer, put it on my shoes and paired it with my iPod. It was inaccurate, for sure — for example a marathon I ran with it was measured as a 45 kms run, full 3 kms longer than actual distance — but it was ingenious when it comes to motivation and goal-setting. Now I could set the weekly, monthly and other goals in distance and time. And, it had a feature I miss ever since - a "Power Song". I could pre-program my own pick-me-up tune and then play it whenever I want or need it during the run by pressing and holding iPod's menu button.

If you promise not to laugh at my taste in music, I'll tell you the song that carried me through the heavy-legged final stages of quite a few marathons and half-marathons; it was Christina Aguilera's "Candyman". Other than catchy melody and cheerful vibe, it also had the perfect beat-per-minute rhythm to which I could match my stride and get some badly needed speed. When I evolved to more sophisticated distance trackers, I lost that Power Song feature and miss it ever since!

I already outed myself as the non-purist runner. (The purists being runners who don't listen to anything other than the sounds of their surroundings and their own breathing.) Yes, I run with headphones, and am not apologizing for it. Nowadays, my phone is my tracking device and a few "essential" apps keep track of my runs and make them more enjoyable. Before I bare my running soul and sole in front of you, I want you to know that I'm kind of an old geek. I like to experiment and try new things all the time, sometimes to my own detriment. One can't know if something's really good until he tries it, right? So, here are my running essentials.

A GPS-capable smartphone is a must. I have an old-ish iPhone 8 which still tracks my distance quite well.

Comfortable headphones. My ears are large — I know, I'm not proud of them and didn't ask for them, but there they are. Most of the earbuds and other fancy small earphones won't stay in my ears. They wiggle and slide out after a few running steps. So, I'm looking for headphones that hook in place in some way. Trust me, running with an earbud that needs to be tucked back in every few steps can ruin your mood run! The current ones I have is the simplest of simple sets of Panasonic wired sport headphones with plastic hook over the ear. What I look for in headphones? I want them light, with some sort of hooking solution either over ears or around the head. Waterproof, or at least water-resistant is preferable. Because, no amount of sweat or rain can stop us, right? Bluetooth wireless are great, but tend to be heavier due to the battery they need to function, which makes them fall outta my ears easier. Also, some bluetooth headphones have connection problems, even though my phone is in my waist-belt less than a meter down from my ears. Further, I prefer earphones which sit outside my ear canal, thus allowing me to hear the sound of my surroundings. It's always useful to hear the car approaching. I know it spoils the sound quality, but ask yourself do you really need a studio-quality sound while running on the road?

I've seen people running with fancy over-the-ear noise-cancelling headphones — I'd love me a pair of those for when I'm on an airplane, but there are two problems I have with them in running situation: they tend to be hot and make me sweat even more; they make me unaware of the traffic and things approaching me outside my field of vision.

My favourite run-tracking app is iSmoothrun. It has more data of my run than I really need, but hey — better too much than not enough, right? It tracks the mileage on my shoes, too. It has easily programmable intervals with great audio feedback. And it syncs with many running community and tracking sites, from Strava to RunKeeper and many in between.

Running community site I use is RunKeeper. It's neither better nor worse than the others. I have used it since 2010, all my running data since then is there and even though I tried Strava and many others, I haven't found a compelling reason to switch, yet. RunKeeper is owned by ASICS, which sort of guarantees they'll be around for a while. But really, it's the matter of preference. I can only suggest that, when you find the site that works for you, stick with it and keep all your data in one place.

One more essential app or site is a weather app. I'm currently running in Europe and use two weather mobile websites which, between them, give me the most accurate hourly forecast: Yahoo weather and Norwegian YR. In North America I trusted The Weather Network the most. Whichever app you choose, I suggest check if it offers the wind speed data per hour. Also "feels like" feature for temperature, whether it's the humidex factor (humidity index) or windchill (in the winter) is very helpful when you need to decide what to wear for the run. All the sites I mentioned above have it.

When it comes to on-run entertainment, there is your music app, whether it's the streaming one (Apple Music, Spotify) or just music playing one. I can't help you much with it, as I'm using Apple Music because it's pre-installed and all my music is there.

Then, there's a podcasts app. Podcasts are radio on demand on any topic you can think of and many you never thought of. They are great way to break the monotony of a long run. My "weapon" of choice is Overcast.

Finally, for the book-loving runners among us, there's an audiobooks app of your choice. On Apple's platforms Apple Books app (former iBooks) doubles as an e-book reader and an audiobook player. Personally, I'm a big reader, but find the audiobooks not affordable, especially at my reading pace of 3-5 books a month. I tried Audible too, it gives one book a month within the subscription, the rest costs extra. Too much for my pocket!

Then I found the solution! There's an iOS app (I'm certain there's something similar for Android too) called Epub Reader. It not only lets me read ebooks, but it also reads it to me. There is selections of voices to choose from and some of them sound almost human. When a book is so good I can't put it down for a run, I listen to it in the same app, while running. My version of the app takes only epub formatted ebooks, but there are plenty free online book conversion sites to help if your book is in a different format. You can try ToEpub, or just search for "free epub converter online".

There you go — these are the gizmos that made my runs enjoyable for years. What are yours? Also, if you have any question, just ask!