#koi fish chronicles

[kabra-malvada]

Day 3: Books.

IDK what's up with the shading with this one srry

Buuuut I wanted to draw fishbois so bad! And my brain itches for koi sun/moon ihdecdfghvw But I got too many wips aaaa help ;;

[cosmicnovaflare]

a mix of Thai/Japanese/Chinese traditional clothing would look so cute in Cinder. The draped piece with sequins and embroidery from Thai dresses would look so pretty with Lunar details and moons and stars. actually all of these would look pretty on her with details of Luna

Yes, I love the concept! Thai/Cambodian clothing was the first thought I had when imagining non-aristocratic sectors of Luna before Wires and Nerve came out. Or even for some of the higher nobility that don’t participate in the aristocracy at all. I’d still imagine the palace with Nagara temple-style architecture (because Cypress Blackburn has a god complex and all) too if it weren’t for the beautiful art they had in Fairest (though Wires and Nerve ignored that too) but at least we can still speculate on the inner decorum. Hindu and Gaelic inspired interiors could still fit even if we include Wires and Nerve.

But yeah, now I want to focus a lot on what Lunar clothing could look like. Wouldn’t it be cool if tons of unique attire evolved over time throughout sectors outside of the capital? I won’t speculate on Artemisia too much since the nobles have and will take, appropriate, and throw away anything in the name of beauty, but what if there was a mining sector with traditions similar to Miao Silver? As Artemisia doesn’t seem to have a lack of anorthite, or compounds mixed with anorthite, perhaps this may be a tradition in one of the outer sectors.

If it takes place in a mining sector, imagine hair pieces, earrings, necklaces, pins, aglets, etc. made of Lunar Anorthosite that can be passed down throughout families. Not only would it look beautiful, but could you imagine the folklore behind it? Marissa didn’t drill in just how symbolic it is to have the royal crown be made of crystalline anorthosite. Anorthosite, the Genesis Rock. Rare on Earth, and likely the mineral that surrounds the outer walls of Artemisia Palace. The rock that was the final key to piecing together the formation of a celestial object 1/80th the size of the Earth, the rock that explained the evolution of the moon, and the first thing the majority of people think of when talking about the Apollo 15 mission!

If it is still unlikely that a mining sector would be allowed to keep any anorthosite, then maybe let’s speculate on regolith solidified by impact shockwaves. The dark grey/black would have a bold contrast with much of the building stone in the Capital. Maybe this could be a tradition in a sector that uses electrolysis to mine oxygen or water, a sector that uses fusion with helium 3, or even ra sector that explores the terrain outside of the domes that simply finds this regolith in areas with high meteor impacts.

[nicole-alexandria]

Mar 8, 2024

Nicole Alexandria

[mudaship39]

Heart of Fire Dragon Soul of Flame Phoenix and Sea Fairy Ocean Blood.

A spoken word poetry anthology book I wrote about being a disabled native (autistic, neurodivergent, chronically ill, & mentally ill disabled), a displaced disconnected state side diaspora, being an Asian Native (as a Vietnamese Kinh, French, Chinese Hoa, & Polynesian Tahitian Indigenous Pasifika person of color), & about being a QTIPOC (queer and trans third gender Indigenous person of color).

Chapter 15: A Graveyard of Ghosts

Keeping culture language and stories alive

By being a culture keeper language keeper and storykeeper 

Chronicling and archiving every facet of our racial and cultural identity 

Through written and spoken word

Through art 

Of poetry, music, dance, theater, and stories 

How much did we lose

When they invaded our lands

When they silenced our elders, healers, and ancestors

When they erased our stories and songs

Keeping culture stories and language alive 

By archiving and chronicling 

Every facet of our identities 

That was the history 

Legacy and tradition 

Responsibility and obligation

Honor and privilege

Of my family

To be a bulwark against that storm outside

A storm caused by settler colonizer invaders

Of death

Of genocide 

Of violence

Of displacement 

Of erasure

Sky father 

You ask me why I don’t speak

You ask me why I don’t sing 

I have always spoken 

I have always sang

I have written stories 

Ever since I was a child

When I first etched stories 

With  parchment, ink, & scroll

I have spoken

I have sang 

Ever since I was a preteen 

When I first stood in front of an audience

Performing as an actor

Performing as a poet

When I first spoke

When I first sang

When I first weaved together stories and songs

It was the closest I have ever been 

To my kin and community

To my elders and ancestors 

To my family whanau and clan hapua 

To my nation iwi

To my sacred mountain or male ancestor

To my sacred river or female ancestor 

I felt your mana 

I felt it 

I heard it

I thought to myself

This is how a voice

Can move mountains 

This is how a story 

Can move people

This is how a song

Can end wars

This is how a melody 

Can even calm storms

I am a storykeeper 

I am a culture keeper 

I am a language keeper 

I am a storyteller 

I am an orator 

I am a storykeeper 

Its like I always had an inherent ability

To weave stories and songs

To capture the imagination of my audience 

With my voice and my song 

Culture keepers, 

language keepers, 

& storykeepers 

That was our kuleana 

Language keepers

Keeping our tongue alive 

Storykeepers

Keeping stories and songs alive 

By written and spoken word

Culture keepers 

Keeping traditions, culture, & customs alive 

By archiving every facet of our identity 

A dynasty of storykeepers, orators, and storytellers

That is my ancestral armor 

To tell stories 

To sing songs

To etch them forever

With our voices and our songs

That was the responsibility and obligation

Of my family

A dynasty of storykeepers orators and storytellers

Some etch stories with ink, parchment, and scroll

Others etch stories with traditional tattoos

Many etch stories with an earth voice and ocean song

I wonder other than colorful tattoos of koi fish, a Buddha, Qilin, white lotus flowers, & a tiger

I wonder other than colorful Indigenous Pasifika tattoos of sharks, turtles, rays, whales, & dolphins 

How much room I need on my body

For traditional Polynesian Indigenous Pasifika black and white tattoos in Tahitian style

For traditional Kinh Indigenous tattoos of Vietnam 

On my neck, chest, back, face, arms, and legs 

To tell the stories of myself, my family, my clan, & my nation 

Before genocide

Before displacement 

This was always destined to be my duty

To uphold the obligation and responsibility 

Of my family, clan, & nation 

To tell their stories 

To sing their songs

It was always what I was meant to do

My kuleana of my ancestors and elders 

Years ago when you the sky father, the earth mother, & ocean mother

Years ago when the fire dragon, the sea fairy, & flame phoenix

Gave me a gift

A voice of fire

An earth voice

Gave me a present

A song of flame

An ocean song

You didn't need to teach me how to speak

You didn't need to teach me how to sing

I have always known how to speak

I have always known how to sing

When I spoke 

When I sang

It was the closest I ever was

To my kin, my elders, & my ancestors 

I felt their mana 

Flowing through me 

Through my mind, heart, & soul

Through my bones and my roots

Voices and melodies

Stories and songs

From hundreds of storekeepers 

From hundreds of language keepers 

From hundreds of culture keepers

From hundreds of stories and songs

From thousands of voices and melodies

A thousand generations 

Of fury and rage 

Of pain and anguish 

Of hatred and loathing 

Of grief and mourning 

Of trauma 

Of sorrow and torment 

Of a thousand generations of defiance

Of resilience

Of resistance

A thousand generations of existence

Of a thousand generations 

Of healing 

Of calm and serenity 

Of hope 

Of joy and happiness 

I spoke my own stories 

I sang my own songs 

I spoke with my voice

I sang with my melody

It was what I was always meant to do 

What I would always chose to do

Carry on the legacy and history 

The privilege and honor

The tradition 

The responsibility and obligation of my family

Since my first ancestor first spoke sang and danced

First weaved story and song together

I remember how happy you were

I remember how proud you were

I remember I know how at peace you were

When I chose to be an elder and healer

When I chose to be a storykeeper, language keeper, and cultural keeper

At the promise that your child 

Your heir 

Your descendant 

Your scion

Would keep the sacred tradition alive

That was almost erased 

That was almost extinguished

That was almost killed

By erasure

By violence 

By displacement

By genocide

I know sky father

I know ocean mother

I know earth mother

My duty 

My responsibility and obligation 

I know my families kuleana

I remember how hurt you were 

I know how angry you were 

I know how sad you were 

I know how afraid you were

When I stopped speaking

When I stopped singing

When I stopped telling stories

When I stopped singing songs

With my voice 

With my melody

Cuz of abuse and trauma

Because of bigotry 

Because of violence

When they tried to erase me 

Just like they did my people 

Just like they did my culture

Just like they did my family 

Just like they did your children

You were afraid that it was happening again 

Having to witness their abuse of your children again 

Having to witness them silence their stories and songs

Having to witness them erase your children’s voices and melodies

Having to bury another child 

Having to grieve another descendant 

Sky father 

You ask me why I don’t speak 

You ask me why I don’t sing 

You ask me why I don’t use my voice

You ask me why I don’t use my song

You ask me why I no longer speak, whisper, sing, scream, or roar

You of all people should know the grief and trauma in silence

You know why I can not speak your tongue 

Ripped from my mind even before I was born

You know why I can’t remember the names of certain gods, goddesses, & demigods 

Ripped from my heart and my soul even before I was even born

Language is the sword 

Religion is the whip

Of the colonizer to the colonized

My mouth grieves 

My tongue mourns

A tongue it does not remember how to speak

When I speak English 

When I try to speak French 

Is it oppression 

When I speak Vietnamese or Tiếng Việt

When I try to speak Chinese or Hànyǔ (汉语)

When I try to speak Tahitian or te reo maohi 

Is it empowerment

I grieve

I mourn 

Stories and songs 

Our land and seas

Our own bodies

Our art, our dances, our food, our songs 

Our customs, traditions, & culture

Turned to spectacles for haole colonizer enjoyment! 

We are homeless and unhoused on our own fucking land!

I grieve words stolen from us

Robbed from us by those haole state sanctioned schools

Where we were beaten for daring to speak our Indigenous lingua franca 

I grieve and I mourn tattoos

Ripped from us by the ban of our culture

I lament names robbed from us

Robbed from us by missionaries through forced conversion

Gods and goddesses from across the Polynesian, Micronesian, & Melanesian diaspora

We your children used to sing your all of names in consecrated hymns

The names we were forced to forget 

Ripped by force from our minds, our hearts, & our souls

Stolen from us by missionaries and forced conversion

We now grieve your names in consecrated whispers

Afraid to say your names too loudly 

Or else they would steal your names from us too

Just like they did our tongue 

And they did…

In those haole settler sanctioned schools! 

When they beat us! 

For speaking your tongue

When they beat us! 

For praying to you 

This was never supposed to happen!

Any of this! 

Land and seas defiled!

Sacred land desecrated!

Language, tattoos, & spirituality banned!

Stories and songs erased!

Voices and melodies silenced!

I don’t know how to grieve this…

I cry with tears of ocean water 

I don’t know how to mourn any of this…

I weep with tears of celestial fire

I have no words

To explain the pain and anguish in my mind

To explain the grief and trauma in my aura

To explain the fury and rage in my heart

To explain the sorrow and torment in my soul 

Being a native of color surviving post genocide 

Being displaced diaspora

Dealing with cultural genocide 

Having no community, links, & bonds

Being rootless in occupied stolen land 

That was never supposed to be my home 

Picking up the broken pieces of a shattered legacy 

Cultural genocide has stolen a lot from me

Displacement has robbed a lot from me

Trauma and abuse has taken a lot from me

It has taken everything from me

More than it already has…

More than it ever could…

Including my voice

Including my song

Now when I speak

Now when I sing

All I hear is silence

There is grief and trauma is silence 

You should know that well

Sky father 

Do not ask me why I am silent

Do not ask me why I don’t speak

Do not ask me why I don’t sing

If I could mourn and grieve my sorrow and torment

About picking up the pieces of a broken legacy

Fixing up the pieces of a broken home

Finding meaning rootless without community 

To teach me how to be an elder and healer

To teach me how to be a storykeeper, orator, and storyteller

To teach me how to be a storykeeper, language keeper, & culture keeper 

I’d drown the fucking world in my grief and anguish!

If I could voice every feeling of pain, grief, sorrow, hatred, & rage 

I ever had about being a marginalized Asian Native Pasifika 

I’d deafen this entire fucking world!

I’m poor and disabled 

In an ideal world 

I would be taken care of

This world would be accessible to me 

In terms of transportation, housing, marriage, & career

I am autistic, neurodivergent, & mentally ill disabled

In an ideal world

The way I think differently would be appreciate

Im queer, trans, & polyam

In an ideal world

Community of family, clan, & nation would come to me for advice and consul 

But this world post genocide isn’t fucking ideal now is it?!

I’m tired 

I’m so fucking tired 

I’m tired of singing

I’m tired of speaking

In a world that constantly tries to erase my stories

In a world that constantly tries to erase my songs

Just like it did my elders who were language, culture, & storykeepers 

I’m tired of fighting 

In a world that constantly doesn’t want me to exist

That constantly tries to erase me

Just like it did my ancestors

That constantly tries to silence my voice

That constantly tries to silence my song

Just like it did my kin 

Tell me!

What is the point of any of this?! 

I weep ocean tears

I cry earth tears 

This world keeps hurting me…

Especially as someone disabled 

As someone queer trans and polyam 

As a native of color 

I survived out of hate 

I survived out of rage 

I survived out of pain 

I survived out of spite 

I lived as an act of self love

I lived as an act of defiance

I live as a choice after healing 

I live as an act of political warfare 

I live because of calm and serenity 

I live because of joy and happiness 

Because I heal rather than hurt

Because I create rather than destroy 

I am a elder and healer

I am a culture keeper, language keeper, & storykeeper 

There is power in silence 

Healing is defiance

Rest is resilience 

There is power in a voice

There is power in a song

I know this 

I repeat it to myself like a mantra 

A thousand times 

In my earth, ocean, & sky mind

In my fire dragon heart 

In my sea fae aura 

In my flame phoenix soul 

It wants to speak 

It wants to sing

It wants to whisper

It wants to scream and roar 

Yet I had to heal myself

Before I can heal anyone else 

As an third gender elder and healer

My elders 

My ancestors 

They used to speak through me

They used to sing through me

I felt so much joy and contentment 

This library 

This archive

Of my family’s legacy, birthright, & bequest

This archive

This library 

Was a place of celebration 

Was a place of remembrance 

Was a place of healing

Should be filled with sculptures, paintings, & photos 

It should be filled with a symphony of sound

Thousands of voices

Thousands of songs

From hundreds of storytellers

From hundreds of orators

When I speak

When I sing

I shouldn't only hear only my own voice

I shouldn't only hear only my own song

I should hear the echoes

Of a thousand stories!

Of a thousand songs!

From hundreds of voices!

From hundreds of melodies!

From my elders and my ancestors

Of a thousand generations of pain and anguish!

Of a thousand generations of grief and mourning! 

Of a thousand generations of fury and rage!

Of a thousand generations of hatred and loathing!

Of a thousand generations of sorrow and torment!

Of a thousand generations of healing!

Of a thousand generations of resilience, resistance, & defiance!

Of a thousand generations of joy and happiness!

Of a thousand generations of serenity and peace!

Of a thousand generations of hope!

Or a hundred thousand generations of existence! 

The full spectrum of a native of color

Displaced disconnected diaspora

Queer and trans third gender native of color experience! 

It was supposed to be a bulwark! 

A fortress against that storm outside! 

Of violence!

Settler colonizer violence

Of death!

Death of a culture 

Of language, spirituality, customs, & traditions 

Of disconnection!

As displaced disconnected diaspora 

Rootless in a land that wasn’t meant to be my home! 

Of pain and trauma! 

Of being a queer trans third gender native

Of being a disabled native 

Of being an Asian native pasifika 

In a post colonial world 

Yet now I only hear silence…

There is a void and emptiness in my mind, my heart, & my soul 

I feel a sense of hopelessness…

There is something wrong here…

I hear my silence

I hear their silence

I hear our silence  

Collective grief and mourning 

There is trauma in grief

There is grief in silence

I understand why silence is so traumatic for us

Why silence is so triggering for us

I know it comes after violence 

It is so loud

Deafening quiet

Thunderous silence

Silence I know too well 

Grief and trauma that mirrors my own

Language keepers

Keeping our tongue alive 

Storykeepers

Keeping stories and songs alive 

By written and spoken word

Culture keepers 

Keeping traditions, culture, & customs alive 

By archiving every facet of our identity 

How much did we lose when they silenced your voices and melodies

How much did we lose when they erased your stories and songs

My elders and ancestors

You asked me to speak te reo maohi to you 

My mind and my mouth can’t respond to their voices and melodies! 

Even if my heart and my soul understands their stories and songs! 

This archive 

It was a place of healing, celebration, & remembrance 

Now it is only a place of mourning and grief 

This isn’t a library or archive of stories and songs

This is a graveyard or mausoleum of a family’s legacy

When I left this place

I heard your voice begging me to come back

I remember your regret 

I remember your grief 

I remember your sorrow 

I remember your pain

I was sorry 

That I could not speak

That I could not sing 

That I could not tell stories

That i could not sing songs

With my voice 

With my melody 

But I could not stay here 

That there was too much pain and trauma here

That there was too much grief and mourning here

Not a bastion 

Not an archive

Not a library 

But ruins 

A graveyard

Full of spirits 

Full of ghosts 

Full of memories 

My family communicates with the dead 

We can see and speak with the paranormal spiritual and supernatural 

The spirits talk to me 

And I talk to them

Yet what is so loud 

What is all around us 

Is grief and trauma corroding itself into everything

Like poison eating away at everything we hold dear

A bastion now turned into crumbling ruins 

I had to leave

To heal myself

To heal us

To heal them

To learn how to be an elder and healer again

To learn how to be a storykeeper, culture keeper, & language keeper again 

Now that I have returned here

After a journey of healing 

After a journey of connecting and reconnecting 

Ancestors and elders 

I see you all around me

I feel your presence 

But I also feel your absence… 

I hear you speaking to me

But I also hear your silence…

I hear your stories and songs

Erased by grief and trauma 

I hear your voices and melodies 

Silenced by violence 

I know what silence means…

As a survivor of trauma and abuse

It’s grieving trauma and violence

I shouldn’t know what it means

I know what silence means though 

As a native of color

I know what silence means 

It’s a people of storykeepers, culture keepers, & language keepers 

Grieving being displaced diaspora 

Grieving surviving post genocide

I wish you were here 

I say weeping sea fairy tears 

Sharing with me your mana 

You should be here

My family or whanau 

My clan or hapua 

My nation or iwi

My elders and ancestors 

Teaching me 

How to uphold my duty of being a storykeeper, culture keeper, & storykeeper 

How to fulfill my legacy and birthright of being a orator and storyteller 

How to uphold my responsibility and obligation of being a third gender elder and healer 

You should be here 

My community 

Giving me solace and comfort 

Maybe that’s why it hurt so much 

Maybe that’s why it broke me

I don’t know how to grieve and mourn 

What was robbed and stolen from me 

I understand silence

My elders and my ancestors

They tell me that they taveled across land and sea to find me

I see them

I see their silent tears

They see mine

I hear them

I hear their silent screams 

They hear mine 

Their earth stories robbed from them

Their ocean songs stolen from them

My voice of fire robbed from me

My song of flame stolen from me 

We are reflections of each other 

So alike in our pain and trauma it’s like staring into a mirror 

I have always heard their earth voices

I have always heard their ocean songs

It gave me a sense of peace and serenity 

It gave me joy and happiness

To feel their mana

Now I only hear silence

They have always heard my voice of fire

They have always heard my song of flame

It gave them calm and serenity 

It gave them hope 

It healed them 

Knowing I uphold their responsibility and obligation 

Knowing I fulfill my legacy and birthright 

Knowing I carried on this sacred tradition 

Now they only hear my silence

I am tired of silence 

We are tired of silence

My sacred mountain or male ancestor 

My sacred river or female ancestor

Are both holding my hands

My tane/kane, wahine/vahine, & third gender partners are pressing their foreheads to mine

I see my ancestors from the beginning 

They see me as a storykeeper, orator, & storyteller

Some are putting their hands on my back

They are sharing my hatred and loathing

They are sharing my fury and rage

They are sharing my sorrow and torment

They are sharing my calm and serenity 

They are sharing my hope 

They are whispering in my ear

They are passing down to me

Their stories

Their songs

I speak my own story

I sing my own song

I see my descendants

To the end 

They see me as an elder and healer

Some are putting their hands on my chest

They are sharing my pain and anguish

They are sharing my grief and mourning

They are sharing my joy and happiness

They are sharing my resistance and defiance 

I pass on my stories to them

I pass on my songs to them 

Ethereal phoenix wing

Celestial dragon wings

A ghostly dragon tail

Airy dragon claws

Intangible phoenix talons

Appear on my body made of earth, ocean, & sky

Unworldly bones made out of jade

Roots made out of white lotus flowers and hibiscus plants

Appear in my body forged from fire, flame, & water

I think to myself

If I speak

If I sing

If I once again chose to tell stories

If I once again chose to sing songs

This place will soon be filled with my elders voices

This place will soon be filled with my ancestors songs

This place will one day be filled with my descendant’s stories

This place will one day be filled with my descendant’s songs

[someawesomeamvs]

Warning: Potential spoilers, flashing lights, violence

Title: 21

Editor: Anime MV Sensei

Song: 21

Artist: Gun Boi Kaz

Anime: Flavours of Youth. Angel Next Door Spoils Me Rotten, Kimi no Na wa (film), Spy x Family, Jujutsu Kaisen, Cross Road, Tomo-chan wa Onnanoko!, Nisekoi, Kaguya-sama, Remake Your Life!, Kamisama ni Natta Hi, Tamako Love Story (film), My Senpai is Annoying, Fruits Basket (2019), Hyouka, Millionaire Detective, Noragami, "Josee, the Tiger and the Fish" (film), Chainsaw Man, My Hero Academia, "Spare Me, Great Lord!", Quintessential Quintuplets, Komi Can't Communicate, Rental Girlfriend, Seraph of the End, Skilled Teaser Tagaki-san, Chronicles, Chuunibyou, Golden Time, The Ice Guy and His Cool Female Colleague, Zom 100: Bucket List of the Dead, Gate, Dead Mount Death Play, Heaven Great Demon, Jigokuraku, Kizuna no Allele, The Dangers in My Heart, Tonikaku Kawaii, Yamada-kun to Lv999 no Koi wo Suru, Hello World, Uchiage no Hanabi, A Galaxy Next Door, Solo Leveling, The Daily Life of the Immortal King, The Ancient Magus' Bride, Oshi no Ko, Pocari Sweat, Dekiru Neko wa Kyou mo Yuutsu, Persona, Terror in Resonance, Blood Blockade Battlefront, Assassins Pride, My Dress-up Darling, Kubo-san.

Category: Romance

[shop-korea]

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CREATED - THEIR - LAWS AND -

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MARIAH' - WHO - GOT 2 MEET -

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BUT - GOD SAID - SATURDAYS -

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ALSO - WE'RE - NOT - IN - THE -

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HAVEN'T - SLEPT 2 DAYS -

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BRICKELL - MAYBE - SPENT US -

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SAME BREED - 2 THOROUGHBRED

HORSES - $100, 000 - EACH - FIRE -

STORAGE - UNIT - BUILDINGS -

AFTER - 10P - 'AFTER - HOURS -

DENIED - ENTRY - NO - FREE -

WIRELESS - U - HAVE GOOGLE FI -

DIDN'T - PAY BILL - ON PURPOSE -

U - WATCHED - YOUTUBE - DID U -

NOTICE - MANAGEMENT - THEY -

ARE - SPANISH - SPEAKING AND -

BLKS - THE - NO 2 - AND - NO 1 -

CRIMINALS - OF THE - WORLD -

FIRE - INSURANCE - THEY GET -

$40, 000 - EACH - BODY - ANY -

PERSON - TAX - FREE - THUS -

PINAYS - JUST - CHECKED XO -

ILLEGAL - TOP - OF - WHERE -

CARS - MOVERS - TRUCK XO -

ENTER - GATE - CAN'T - BE -

DIRTY - IN - EVENT - OF XO -

FIRE - REMEMBER - SUPER -

VIOLENT - LEE MIN HO - KR -

'ETERNAL - MONARCH' - GET -

YOUR - PERMITS - HORSES - 2 -

RIDE - I'M - PHYSICAL DISABLED -

SPECIAL - MARINES -

SPECIAL AIR FORCE -

SPECIAL - NAVY

AUTO - FLIERS

PARKING FUEL - FLAMMABLE -

CARS - EXPLODED - MOVERS -

TRUCKS - ESPECIALLY - LIKE -

ASHTON KUTCHER - NICE FR -

VIOLENT - VERY - 'KILLERS' -

WHAT's - HAPPENING - IN -

THE - PARKING - GARAGE -

BRITISH - RIDING - HAT -

BULLETPROOF - FIREPROOF -

PINAYS - FLIES - US - BOOTS -

FLIES - GLOVES - CARRIES -

5, 000 LBS - EACH - DIBA -

'KIM POSSIBLE' - DISNEY -

HORSE - KO - ONLY - ME -

SINCE - CHILDHOOD - CAN -

RIDE - HIM - LIKE - PRINCE -

CHARMING - DISNEY -

'SLEEPING - BEAUTY' -

OLYMPICS - BRITISH - ROYALTY -

WON - GOLD - HORSE - CALLED -

EQUIRESTRIAN - SPELLING HAI -

TRAINING - GATES - SIZE NANG -

SIRA - STORAGE - SO - GOD -

PROVIDES - US AN ESCAPE -

OUR - HORSES - WITH - PERMIT -

2 - JUMP - GATE - BOOTS NATIN -

FLIES - ANOTHER - GIFT 2 TAYO -

WOMEN - AND - KIDS - HOORAY -

NON - THOROUGHBRED - HORSE -

JOAN OF ARC - PARIS - FRANCE -

BONFIRE - BECAME - FRIED CKN -

WE'RE - NOT THE - BBQ - SAUCE -

MIAMI - JUDICIAL - POWERS -

GOLF TANNED - PRUNE BAGS -

GAVE - BRICKELL - OUTDOOR -

MALL - 'DUE - PROCESS - OF -

LAW' - THEIR WHITE - UNIFORM -

BLCKS - ARMED - 2 - DEPRIVE -

ANY - PERSON - OF - LIFE AND -

LIBERTY - THEY'RE - NOT - YES -

TOUCHING - ZARA - SHOPPING -

BAGS - LIBERTY - RIGHT 2 ACT -

I - MIKI - DIRECT DESCENDANT -

OF - SIR PATRICK - HENRY -

LAWYER - ASSEMBLED XO -

VIRGINIA's - FIRST MILITARY -

FORCE - DEMOCRAT AS THE -

BLOOD - WORKS - ( R ) - FOR -

ROYALTY - DESCENDANT OF -

QUEEN MARY - OF - SCOTTS -

SCOTLAND THE CONNECTION -

MET - TWICE - HER - MAJESTY -

THE - QUEEN - THE - QUEEN -

MOTHER NOW - HIS MAJESTY -

THE - KING - ROYAL - BRO - IN -

BUCKINGHAM - PALACE -

SECURITY OF BRICKELL -

SHOOTING - ICU - LICENCED -

REGISTERED - NURSES TAKE -

YOUR - NINOY JR - COINS - FR -

THEIR - JAPANESE - KOI - NINOY -

BECAME - YOUR - AIRPORT FOR -

A - REASON - 'WE'RE - TURNING -

NAIA - INTO THE - PIGLY WIGGLY -

AIRPORT' - AS - IMELDA - SAID -

STABBED - MANY - TIMES WITH -

RUSTED - KNIFE - BY A - MALE -

PINOY - 'HAVE A - WALMART IT -

HAS - SHOES - CLEANERS' - SO -

THIS - NINOY - IT - HAS - AMOY -

USE - LYSOL - MANGO - PUBLIX -

PWIA - THE - PIGGLY - WIGGLY -

INTERNATIONAL - AIRPORT -

REPLACING NINOY AQUINO -

INTERNATIONAL - AIRPORT -

NEW - STREET - NAME - PH -

LEGAL - PERMISSION -

CLARK KENT AVE

(SUPERMAN)

WE - THE - PEOPLE - ARE -

RUNNING - OUT - YELLOW -

ITEMS - RECYCLE - SO - MANY -

YELLOW FLOWERS - WE NEED -

2 - CHANGE - 2 - ORGANIC - AT -

'MY PEOPLE - THIS IS IMELDA' -

YES - A - TREADMILL' - 'LOVE -

NEVER - FAILS' - DIBA - HAVE -

MANY - FORGOTTEN - YELLOW -

ROSES - MEANS - HATRED LET -

US - GO - BACK - 2 - LOVE AND -

WE - WILL - NEVER - FAIL' -

WALMART - AND - PUBLIX -

COMING - WHY - ARE YOU -

BUYING PANTIES - AT -

BRICKELL CITY CENTER

FOR - $10, 000 - EACH - EVEN - I -

IMELDA - BUY - MY - SHOES - ON -

SALE' - YOU - YELLOW - PEOPLE -

BUYING - YELLOW - YET - YOUR -

KIDS - ARE HUNGRY - BAKIT SO -

BACK 2 - WHO - IS - THIS NINOY -

REPLY - THANK - YOU - VERY -

MUCH - IMELDA ROMOULDEZ -

MARCOS - THIS - IS - APRIL -

O'NEAL - YOUR - REPORTER -

REPORTING - LIVE - MIAMI -

7% - TAX - FLORIDA - FL -

MIAMI - DADE - COUNTY -

AND - COMING - THE - EASTER -

BUNNY - RUDOLPH - THE - RED -

NOSE - REINDEER - YES SANTA -

IS - COMING - EVEN - JESUS - IS -

COMING - BACK - GBC - FILMS -

PRESENTS - 'THE NINJA -

TURTLES 2 - TENTATIVE -

TITLE - IN - SEARCH - OF -

SAKURA' - WILL - THESE -

BOYS - SWITCH - FROM -

PIZZA - 2 - SUSHI - 2 BE -

THINNER - THIS - IS -

APRIL O'NEAL - REPORTING -

LIVE - AND - CUTTING - RED -

RIBBON - AT - THE - NEW -

PIGGLY - WIGGSLY -

INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT -

IN - MANILA - PHILIPPINE -

ISLANDS - SIGNING - OFF

[kaixiety]

Sometimes I’m sad, but then I read page 345 of Scarlet and remember that Marissa Meyer didn’t let pigeons go extinct

[silverquillsideas]

My thoughts on anime vs manga

I somehow feel that there'll always be a tiny divide between the "anime only" and the "manga only" fans in any fandom that has both a manga and an anime adaptation.

Maybe I'm being a little biased, but there's just something about spending pages after pages with every character, physically reading their words, looking back at the art of each panel individually, musing over your thoughts as you track every character, getting immersed in the ink strokes and words and white spaces in between..... that's just not found in a compressed three seconds of screen-time in an anime. Especially this applies to mangas that have years of runtime, with generations of people growing up, as volumes after volumes are released.

I'm not criticising either media, as that would be foolish. Both media have their own merits and impact people in vastly different ways.

But I cannot help but think, that reading a manga leaves a far deeper impression on you. It's an even more of an immersive experience, where only the art and the words speak to the reader instead of movement or sounds... But still somehow manage to make you feel emotions to a depth that an anime may not have the time or the scope to do from a practical standpoint.

This is just my little opinion, a lot of people wouldn't agree, and that's okay. I've read quite a lot of mangas, which have had/are in the process of having anime adaptations, but almost every time, I've found this to be true.

But regardless, we're all a part of a big family, and anime/manga would always be a big part of me, no matter how long it is. I'm sure it's the same for all of you too ~ 😊

[rikkidoesart]

clap your hands if you love Diana Wrayburn

*clapping with extreme enthusiasm

[thecruelprincejames]

Happy Diana Day!

Again, this might be very early in those parts of the world that I guess most of the blogs here are from. But I’ve scheduled this for the 1pm, here. Here’s to one of the best teachers I know. Her bravery and resilience are inspirational. ❤ Thank you for hosting a day dedicated to her, @catarinalosss !

[whatwouldmickeydo]

for the random interactions thing, here are some koi fish i saw today!!

For some reason, koi give me the heebie jeebies sometimes lmao, maybe it’s because they follow you around waiting for food? They are pretty though!

Here’s so fun facts I found after reading the entire wiki article about koi:

Koi are carp. I did not know that lol.

The words "koi" and "nishikigoi" come from the Japanese words 鯉 (carp), and 錦鯉 (brocaded carp), respectively. In Japanese, "koi" is a homophone for 恋, another word that means "affection" or "love", so koi are symbols of love and friendship in Japan.

The oldest record on colored carp in Japan is found in the Japanese history book Nihon Shoki (Chronicles of Japan) completed in 720.

Carp were first bred for color mutations in China more than a thousand years ago, where selective breeding of the Prussian carp (Carassius gibelio) led to the development of the goldfish (Carassius auratus).[4]

[mayfieldpark]

Mayfield Park

Mayfield Park and Nature Protect

Mayfield Park and Protect is situated in Focal Austin and has an assortment of conveniences. There are climbing trails, a rivulet, shared nurseries, lakes, and peacocks!

At the focal point of the Mayfield, office sits a home, which once had a place with Allison Mayfield. Mr. Mayfield went out to his darling girl, Mary Frances, and her significant other, Milton Gutsch. The cabin has been reestablished to chronicled exactness on the outside. The Mayfield-Gut sch's additional numerous excellent contacts to the land – including outside rock dividers, wonderful nurseries, just as the lakes looking like a bloom in the focal point of the property. Notwithstanding the wonderful turns of events, the dearest peacocks who call the property home likewise came to fruition because of the pair. Upon Mary Frances' demise in 1971, the home and property were given to the city to be utilized as a park office.

The office currently houses around 18 diverse peafowls. The two species, India Blue and Dark Carried live consistently together and give an extraordinary encounter to guests. The birds meander uninhibitedly through the nurseries and lakes, and infrequently even down into the safeguard. The lakes are home to a wide assortment of creatures, including fish, creatures of land and water, and reptiles. Koi live in every last one of the lakes, as Mayfield additionally fills in as a city-wide Koi salvage. Bullfrogs, an assortment of amphibian turtles, and Diamondback Water Snakes are consistently seen unwinding in the lakes. Incredible Blue Herons and Extraordinary Egrets incessant the lakes for the simple suppers, as well!

The Mayfield save sits straightforwardly behind the home. The save is home to 21 sections of land of secured land, containing some short climbing trails, a stream, just a lakeshore. The climbing is an essential to level and manages the cost of guests the chance to see a wide assortment of plant species. Along the lakeshore guests may see reptiles, like the Plain-Bellied Water Snake or the Dekay's Earthy colored Snake. Different guests incorporate an assortment of waterfowl.

Please visit the business of one of our ​regular supporters.

View the map location: https://goo.gl/maps/f4JESxLjQaYjAmoE7

2008 W Koenig Ln, Austin, TX 78756

Be sure to check out this attraction too!

[thebumblingbee]

The Typher Chronicles Pt. 3

This evening, our adventurers dove back into the Divincoeur Timberlands to see if they could find and destroy whatever has been attacking nearby cities...

Last we left off, the group had talked to Lord Damys of Timberfall, who offered 1000gp if the group could bring proof that they had stopped whatever evil had been attacking the northern cities of the Timberlands. 

The group set off on the northern path and into the trees. The first day of travel was rather uneventful, but as they settled down to sleep, they began to hear a baby cry in the distance. They quickly determined that it was not a real baby crying but, rather, someone mimicking a baby. They decided to set up watches for the evening before sleeping. 

Continuing on the next day, the group kept an eye out for anybody that may be following them. The day passed uneventfully, and the group set up camp for the evening. As they finished their dinner, Aleister and Ongra heard some grass crunching behind the camp. The group was ambushed by a pair of giant spiders that appeared to be under the same spell as those that attacked Rioton when the group met. After a close call with Nadira being knocked out, the group managed to kill both of the spiders. Mip and Xan also managed to extract small vials of poison from the spiders’ bodies. 

The next day was also rather uneventful, though the group did notice some dancing lights above their camp while they were setting up for sleep. Mip set up an Alarm spell to be notified if anyone entered their camp (which nobody did).

On their fourth day of travel, in the early afternoon, the group began to hear a baby crying again. They were able to tell that this one was real, so Aleister and Mip stealthily moved through the woods to investigate. As they got further into the forest, it began to get significantly darker, so Mip sent Chip the mouse back to grab the rest of the group.

After another short while of following the crying, the group found a decrepit cabin in the woods and could hear the floor creaking and glass clinking inside. Aleister tried to sneak around, but whatever was inside heard her, and the group began combat.

A green hag emerged from the house, standing about 6′6″ tall with spindly long fingers. As Xan went to cast Hexblade’s Curse on her, he felt his rather new magical abilities hesitate before the spell took hold. As her turn came around, Nadira cast Charm Person on the Hag, which quickly worked, and the Hag saw Nadira as a friend. While the Hag was distracted, the group ran inside to find the halfling and wood-elf babies that were stolen from Pinebury alive in a crib in the corner of the room. 

The group quickly looted the room, finding a couple of health potions, a book of pressed leaves, two wooden dolls that were carved to look like Nadira and Aleister, a perfectly round stone, and a silver ring. The shelves were also loaded with spell components and various questionable body parts. 

Mip worked on picking the lock to the lockbox in the corner, taking some damage as she set off the trap after getting it open. In it, she found 15gp, a scroll for Dancing Lights, and a letter that was sealed with a red wax seal with a single feather emblem on it.

The letter read:

My dearest friend,

I have tried speaking with them, but my words seem to have no impact. Apparently, my power and status mean nothing to them. My knowledge and skills mean nothing to them. So the only way to make them listen is with my actions. 

With this new development, I am in need of your assistance. I would like to remind you of the favor that is owed to me. I need you to make them listen. I do not care what you have to do, but do keep in mind the degree to which you are indebted. 

I trust in your skills, as well as your intentions. 

Do not disappoint me.

AK

With the babies secured, Mip grappled the Hag and tied her to a chair to be interrogated. 

The Hag told the group the letter was written by a tiefling woman named Adrienne (whose description was quite similar to the tiefling woman they met in the taverns in Rioton and Pinebury). She helped the Hag settle in this part of the woods by making some Crownsguard disappear, so the Hag was indebted to Adrienne. Adrienne had been trying to communicate with someone (the Hag conjectured that it may be the Empress), but that person was not listening, so Adrienne wanted the Hag to cause a disturbance. The Hag admitted to being behind the attacks on the cities, but she was kidnapping the babies on her own time trying to create more hags. 

The group then beat the Hag to death while she was tied to a chair. 

During that fight, Xan again felt his magic hesitate before his spells could take hold.

After defeating the Hag, Xan decided to leave her ring and her round stone with her, as she seemed very proud of those when asked about her treasures.  

After retrieving the babies, the group quickly made their way back to Pinebury. On the first night after the fight, Vaughn felt himself slip into a void in his sleep, getting the distinct feeling that Celestian was proud of him, and that he did what was right. 

The group quickly found their way to the Flint’s house, where a very tearful wood-elf gladly took her baby back, and was so overcome with emotion that she was unable to properly thank them. The group then traveled the final hour to Pinebury proper, where Ongra handed the halfing baby back to her family. The halflings were extremely appreciative and felt quite guilty that they had no way to repay them.

The party then hung out with the koi fish in the pond before retiring to the Green Morning Inn for a night’s rest. The next morning, they decided to set out for the Ruins. After a four day journey, Aleister and Ongra noticed a reflection off of the path back through the trees. They came upon a large stone building with a glass dome roof. As Nadira worked her musical magic to solve the puzzle and open the door, the group set foot in a large circular room with draping vines and climbing moss.

Which is where our story will leave off, until next time...

[inspired-snowflace]

Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

Loki×Reader:

One shots :

Prank

Prince of Jotunheim

Bracelet

Choice (Choice is sorta a sequel to Bracelet)

Two hot chocolates, a brownie and a Norse God of Mischief

Series :

-- Mad Predictions--

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Chats:

Beautiful when they smirk

An Allfathers guide to children

Duh!Chocolate!!

Norse Gods

Theories:

Endgame Loki theory (sad)

Endgame Loki theory (hopeful)

Other Chats:

The Greeks and Egyptians

Carter hates snakes (kane chronicles)

Entangled earphones

My Art

My chibi avatar

Koi fishes

Powerpuff girls

Diwali

Potrait

Hulk, Smash!

RM (Namjoon), BTS

Cottage in the woods

[quitepossiblyknot]

It was written, we transcended obsession and worship, we worded commitment into linking, no more missing, both our mission is in inking, writing our visions into action, reaction to gratitude, an attitude that shakes belief systems, we insisting on enlisting our talents, giving, gifted, uplifting our spirits, pistons, this engine, piloting horizons, arriving at endless. Enjoyment. Voices heard. Learned. Listening is koi fish in black & white, radii, 180 times 2, find you and I circling, yes, I, like, you, mindful. Emptying out. Content. A bend in space, continue us. Continuum. Strenuous? Effortless? Perspectives sift, perception is a renewal, attuning, a tool, a fuel for shedding everything heavy. Removing the webbing, connected, network, let's work. Inward. Invert. Insert bookmark, took heart and placed it where you'd discover it, number 1, uncovering sum of us. Under what is most auspicious, responsive to delicious, finer tastes, refining place under the sun, no idea is original, until I met you, a symbol, solstice, prototype and archetype, forged light, for sight, I'm set, kindness our kindling, kismet, in-depth, chronicles, accomplishing the impossible. I'm for you. Root. Rooted. Rooting. Shooting up. Buds. With love.

Wallflowers ©2019, afroknotical

[diversechildliteraturereviews]

Phi, B. (2017). A different pond. North Mankato, MN: Capstone Young Readers.

Illustrated by Thi Bui.

Review # 4

A Different Pond (Phi, 2017) is the multi-award-winning fiction picturebook retelling of a young Vietnamese boy named Bao Phi’s immigration story. This story presents a wonderful example of indigenous storytelling. It is beautifully “situated in a cultural, family, and communal context that provides the backdrop to stories and to which the stories are tied” (Iseke & BMJK, 2011, p. 246). A Different Pond (Phi, 2017) is a co-construction of Bao Phi’s and Thi Bui’s experiences as Vietnamese immigrants to the United States. Author Bao Phi was born in Vietnam and raised in the Phillips neighborhood of South Minneapolis. Illustrator Thi Bui was also born in Vietnam, but she grew up in California and New York. In her brief bio beneath her picture on the dust jacket flap at the back of the text are the poignant words of, “Now all these places are a part of her.” Certainly, all of the experiences from within spaces and places encompassed by both the author and illustrator have informed their telling of this beautiful story.

In a “Note from Bao Phi,” Phi shares with readers that he “was much less appreciative of [the] experience [of fishing for food and not sport] than the little boy in the story, but now that I am a father myself, I wanted to honor the struggle of my parents. I also want to acknowledge that they sometimes told me difficult stories about the war and where we came from, including death and violence. My parents shared these stories with me, not to scare or harm me, but because these traumas were a part of our lives, and they wanted me to understand. I pass along a version of our story with those same intentions.”

Illustrator Thi Bui shares in the construction of this text a familiarity with Vietnamese culture and family. It it important to note that she is the author and illustrator of the graphic novel, The Best We Could Do (Bui, 2017) which chronicles the immigration journey of her family from their war-torn home in Vietnam to their new lives in America. In a “Note from Thi Bui,” Bui shares that “I don’t have much memorabilia to collect from my childhood. But looking around on the internet, I’ve found that there ARE others who remember the same odd details that mark an Asian American, and more specifically Vietnamese American, immigrant household. The cookie tin that might contain Danish butter cookies, or Mom’s sewing needles and thread. The free calendar from the Asian grocery store. The gối ôm , or hugging pillow, that my mom sewed for our beds. None of these things exactly represents my Vietnamese heritage; it’s more that they add up to hold something of what it was like to be me, and alive, in a specific time and place. I would have liked to put more of these objects in my illustrations, but the irony is that not having a lot of money meant not having a lot of possessions. So the empty spaces hold meaning, too.”

In thinking of what I have come to understand of storytelling from indigenous persons, alongside what the author and illustrator have shared, I enter A Different Pond (Phi, 2017) hopeful to learn more about the experience(s) of a young Vietnamese immigrant and his family in their new home of America. Though this is a work of fiction, I am aware that it provides glints of real lives and lived experiences. The story opens with Bao seated on the edge of what appears to be a family bed. Dad is already fully dressed, while his mother is still asleep in bed. It is still very early in the morning. It is dark outside, as they leave their home with a large white bucket and a tackle box. Many readers would be able to connect with this story and its characters given its sharing of a commonly practiced family experience - fishing. Some may even know that the best time to catch fish is in the early hours of the day when the sun is not yet awake. 

As the story progresses, Bao shares of his father’s storytelling. Again, this may represent another common practice in families. Oftentimes, there are elders in the family who share about family - their experiences, customs, language and culture, etc. through the telling of stories. It is interesting that Bao’s father’s stories are told to him in English. Though it seems purposeful that he does and that Bao mentions “A kid at my school said my dad’s English sounds like a thick, dirty river. But to me his English sounds like gentle rain.” Bao also points out that “Sometimes a Hmong man is at the pond. He speaks English like my dad and likes to tell funny jokes.” 

Bao’s story is representative of his life and experiences as very similar to other American boys - fishing with his dad, building a fire, sharing bologna sandwiches. Yet there are glimmers of Vietnam ever present when we see “I put some rocks in a circle and set up the twigs. “Like a volcano,” Dad reminds me,” and when his dad drifts off in thought about his brother and the war. Bao tries to picture what Vietnam looks like, “I look at the trees as we walk back to the car. I wonder what the trees look like at that other pond, in the country my dad comes from.”

The illustration showing the family seated around the dinner table to enjoy the prepared fish that Bao and his dad caught earlier, again appeals to similar American family practice and culture. A closer look at the dinner and the family provides readers with the opportunity to see the rice cooker. The fish on the table - whole fish with heads intact though we learn through the text that “Mom will fry the fish on both sides until they are crispy.” Fried fish is often more commonly enjoyed by Americans, however the fish is usually filleted, then fried, and served with tarter sauce. Bao “[brings] out the jar of fish sauce that has flecks of chili pepper and carrots floating on top.” This family gathering, despite its differences here and there, is very much like gatherings that many young American readers would be accustomed to with “brothers and sisters will tell funny stories” and “Mom will ask about their homework” and “Dad will nod and smile and eat with his eyes half closed.”

The closing of the text with Bao dreaming of fish in faraway ponds and seeing what almost looks like koi fish in a pond with lilies and lily pads seems fitting; representative of his movement between space and place. It is demonstrative of indigenous storytelling and its movement between the past and the future; “always conscious of how the present moment at once holds both past and future” (Iseke & BMJK, 2011, p. 254). It would appear as though stories of immigration always have movement - sometimes the movement is seen in physical movement, other times the movement is seen through spiritual or imagined travel. 

I have been careful and purposeful in my choosing to not highlight the representations of poverty within this story, though there are many. I chose instead to highlight the richness that exists within this story - the humanity above the difference.