DANCE IN THE VAMPIRE BUND, omnibus 6 (volumes 15-17)

Story and art by: Nozomu Tamaki
MSRP: $19.99
Release date: September 1, 2015


Three months have passed since Princess Mina, queen of all vampires, has recaptured the Bund. The damage inflicted to vampire/human relations runs deep, but a peaceful postwar restoration is now underway.

Yet appearances can be deceiving. Somebody is trying to kill government liaison Reiko Gotoh, and it is up to werewolf bodyguard Akira and shapeshifting sheriff Hama Seiji to protect her. Seiji must look deep into his own past in order to uncover the hidden dangers that lurk in the present. The dark secrets he learns may not only impact his ill-fated romance with Gotoh, but could spell the end of the Vampire Bund itself.


Sylvia Plath reads her poem Point Shirley

Point Shirley
by Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)

From Water-Tower Hill to the brick prison
The shingle booms, bickering under
The sea’s collapse.
Snowcakes break and welter. This year
The gritted wave leaps
The seawall and drops onto a bier
Of quahog chips,
Leaving a salty mash of ice to whiten

In my grandmother’s sand yard. She is dead,
Whose laundry snapped and froze here, who
Kept house against
What the ****tish, rutted sea could do.
Squall waves once danced
Ship timbers in through the cellar window;
A thresh-tailed, lanced
Shark littered in the geranium bed —-

Such collusion of mulish elements
She wore her broom straws to the nub.
Twenty years out
Of her hand, the house still hugs in each drab
Stucco socket
The purple egg-stones: from Great Head’s knob
To the filled-in Gut
The sea in its cold gizzard ground those rounds.

Nobody wintering now behind
The planked-up windows where she set
Her wheat loaves
And apple cakes to cool. What is it
Survives, grieves
So, battered, obstinate spit
Of gravel? The waves’
Spewed relics clicker masses in the wind,

Grey waves the stub-necked eiders ride.
A labor of love, and that labor lost.
Steadily the sea
Eats at Point Shirley. She died blessed,
And I come by
Bones, only bones, pawed and tossed,
A dog-faced sea.
The sun sinks under Boston, bloody red.

I would get from these dry-papped stones
The milk your love instilled in them.
The black ducks dive.
And though your graciousness might stream,
And I contrive,
Grandmother, stones are nothing of home
To that spumiest dove.
Against both bar and tower the black sea runs.


MY FAVORITE SONG: August 29th, 2015

The Rolling Stones - “Paint It Black” (Aftermath)

I can’t speak for the song’s reception back when it was first released, but I have to say the concepts that a lot of songs from the late 60′s and early 70′s touched upon was rather chilling. 

The lyrics are desolation personified. With all of the references to the absence of color, desolation, and morose, it’s a very dark tale of depression in modern times. It’s almost an acceptance of the loss of color in one’s life and allowing darkness to take over. 

By contrast, the Raga Rock styled instrumental is much more upbeat than what the song’s lyrics entail. The song is characterized by its pounding drums, the thick, murky bassline and the acoustic guitar work that’s almost reminiscent of a sitar. It was a number one hit in both the U.S. and the U.K. I can also imagine seas of people bouncing up and down, dancing to this song at concerts when it first came out.

I always knew this song from hearing it all over the radio, but what brought me back to this song was when I played it in Guitar Hero III. It was one of those songs I picked up pretty quickly. It was a ton of fun to play and I even learned it on the guitar. I feel like for any classic rock fan song is an iconic Stones release.

I decided that I wanted to light everybody up. I wanted to illuminate everybody. So uh, you know one thing I love about that is uh I’m not looking out into a vast, endless sea of darkness that screams and dances that you can’t always see. I can see all the things that you’re doing. You think I can’t see you up there… that’s incorrect. And so because of this, because I can see every single one of you, it makes me start thinking about you individually and then my mind starts to wander about like your back story. Like um, like if you’re back at school yet. Or if you have work off tomorrow. Or if you’re here with your friends. Or how long it took you to make the costumes you’ve got, or how you’re like wrapped in Christmas lights. Or if you’ve got like glitter and puffy paint all over your house because you made signs. Yeah, looking at you. [Points to adorable fans in the floor seats to her left.] And then I start thinking about other things like, um, like the fact that maybe you traveled a really long distance to be at this particular show. Um, and then I think about the fact that maybe it’s a possibility that you might have listened to my music in really high high times in your life or really low low moments in your life. Because that’s what we do isn’t it? That’s why we’re all here. Because when we feel extreme pain or extreme joy, we turn to music and that’s why we’re in this arena together. That’s the one thing we’ve got in common. And um, I don’t know but looking at you it’s impossible to pick one age group, or one possible viewing to talk to because the coolest thing looking at you is that everybody is at a different place in their life. Everybody’s got different hobbies. Individual sets of hopes, dreams, wishes, fears, doubts, regrets, all of it. And I guess I just look at you and I never want you to go through anything bad… ever. And I know that’s so naive, but I guess I look at you and I know how tricky happiness can be to find in 2015. Because we have so many ways of looking at what someone else has going on and maybe feeling like our life comes up short. Or feeling like maybe the other people have it all together and we don’t know where we’re going with our life. Or feeling like we’ve got all these insecurities and feeling like we’re just walking around the world hoping that no one else can see them. Like uh, how long am I gonna be at this party before people realize I’m not cool? Um, how long am I gonna be dancing before people start laughing at me? All that stuff. And I guess what I wanted to tell you is that, God, you are not someone else’s opinion of you. You’re not someone’s comment on your Instagram. You’re so much more than that. This is coming from someone who loves the internet because it gives me a chance to talk to you, and it gives me a chance to know you even if you live far away. But the one thing I want is for you to not get hateful comments, or terrible criticisms. I don’t want anyone to ever tell you that you’re not what you should be. But, that’s how life is. And we go through it, and we try and do the best we can but all I’m saying is… there are enough people that are cruel and mean and critical of you, if you could possibly just be kind to yourself as much as you possibly can that would make me so happy. Don’t be too hard on yourself if you make a mistake. Don’t focus too much on your regrets. Learn from them. I think sometimes in our heads we get this idea that there’s like this uh invisible record and we get strikes against it when we mess up, and that’s just not how it works. We learn lessons from the time we mess up. No one has a spotless life. And if you consider yourself damaged or tarnished because you’ve made mistakes in your life, that’s just not how it is. I think it’s the opposite. I think that if you make mistakes and you learn from them that makes you wiser and and stronger and it makes you braver for taking those risks in the first place. Don’t you think? I wrote a song when I was really struggling to figure out how to be nicer to myself in my own head. And I cared a lot about what other people thought about me. And to be honest with you L.A., all I care about these days is what you think about me.  Not people who don’t know me. And when I came to that realization, I was in London writing with a woman named Imogen Heap, and I brought her this idea that I had written and it ended up being the very last song on 1989 and I called it Clean. So if you know this one, please sing along Los Angeles.
—  Taylor’s Clean speech in L.A. on 8/26/15

Canyon Concert Ballet in Fort Collins, Colo., is a sea of pink tutus and giggling little girls with their hair pulled into tight buns atop their heads.

There’s a single boy: Eight-year-old Finn Miller Vaughan, who danced in his first Nutcracker when he was 3 years old.

He says it can be kind of fun to be the only boy, but …

“Sometimes there’s a downside, ‘cause the girls kind of tease you sometimes,” he says. “They say I have cooties and stuff, but I know that isn’t true.”

He also knows that the stigmas often attached to boys who take ballet aren’t true either.

Ballet Programs Look For More Boys To Step Up To The Barre

Photo credit: Stacy Nick/KUNC


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Long live Tumblr!


Working with @shawnheinrichs in an underwater performance protest against the Australian shark cull and the global slaughter of sharks, we risked it all to dance on the sea floor with swarms of tiger sharks up to 17 feet long without any dive or protective gear. #hannahfraser #performanceart #art #wildlife #sharks #sealife #hannahmermaid #ocean #mermaid #model #love #beautiful #sharklove #shawnheinrichs #reallifemermaid #realmermaid #conservation

anonymous asked:

I recently came across your blog and I love it! I was wondering if you could please write a Hiccstrid where they finally admit their feelings to one another? Can this be set in the race to the edge time? :)

A/N: You know what else has flooded my inbox? This. This request, granted, a lot of smut to accompany it. Not yet. I’ll get to some RTTE smut, but for now, have some infuriatingly vague “We’re a couple now.” I tried. You should know these two dorks probably won’t be that straightforward about it.

Astrid rubbed her frozen hands together vigorously, blowing on her numb fingers for good measure. Occasional flurries danced through the air, swallowed up by the sea and dusting over Dragon’s Edge. Each exploratory flight brought greater number of wayward ice floes, soon to grow dense as the temperature dropped. The brutal heart of winter beat ever louder, ever closer, and it had the other riders confined mostly to their huts or the clubhouse, curled up near the largest fire with their dragons. It made things crowded, but the collective warmth was nothing to complain about.

Astrid often found herself nearest Hiccup, intentional or not. The other teens were a headache, she told herself. Too much cabin fever and Hiccup’s presence was relaxing. He was quiet, pensive, brow furrowed as he examined the Dragon Eye. Little else drew his attention like that ancient artifact. It was irritating, but only because he was completely detached from the work around him with that cylinder in his hands. That had to be it, the reason Astrid rolled her eyes whenever the Dragon Eye made an unnecessary appearance. She huffed when her conversations with Hiccup turned one-sided, with only vague “Mhmm” and “Yeah” to answer her. It was rude, and that was the main reason she snatched it from him. It had to be.

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