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crispy-armpit · 10 months

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✧ 𝖒𝖞 𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 ✧

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴇᴀ ɢᴏᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა 🫧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚𓇼

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 10 dollars on a dare leads you to break one superstition that changes your life forever. you begin to learn secrets tied to your family and upbringing, at the cost of your freedom. who is this mysterious Anshumat, and why does he want you?

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺, violence, implied stalking, kidnapping, choking, reader gets called a bride once

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,418

⭒ a/n: yan sea god was inspired by an Indonesian myth called Nyi Roro Kidul! it's a really interesting legend if you want to learn more abt it ^^ also.... man tits...... meow..

will you venture down this path?

growing up, you would stay over at your grandmother's house every summer. her beautiful seaside cottage made the perfect accommodation for a family getaway. throughout your childhood, the superstitious old woman restricted you from doing specific things. rules like never whistling at night, don't open an umbrella indoors, etc.

you'd eventually found out that these were just scare tactics for children to make them listen. but there was one rule that your grandmother seemed to fear the most, a rule that never made sense... never wear white to the local beach. and when questioning her about the rule, she'd tell you the same story every time.

"long ago...

a cruel serpent god who once ruled these waters would rise from the ocean and into the islands, devouring innocent villagers and destroying temples along its path.

the gods and humans were furious at its actions. fed up with the destruction and death, they prepared a plan to thwart the serpent; a binding curse.

the serpent was cursed to spend its days rotting in a hidden island, where it was accompanied by its servants. it was also tasked with granting blessings to sailors passing through the rocky tides, where it weighed the sins of each individual to seal their fates.

but over the decades... the serpent grew bored and lonely. through a loophole, the serpent found a way to abduct humans. you see.. the serpent loves the colour white and pearls. so much so, it would use its voice, so alluring, to lure the poor victims who happened to wear such things. and once in the water, the serpent would drag the human to its temple where they would become its slave.. or worse...

its spouse."

here you are today, telling the same tale in front of your young niece and nephew. "well, that's one way to get bitches." your nephew, Keona laughs. a scoffing Kehlani adds on, "nah, who would want to marry an overgrown slimy snake?"

"hey now, take that shit to grandma. she just assigned me to be your storyteller," you shrugged. "and this story has a real reasoning behind it, ok?"

"what? sexy sea snake destroying villages?"

"no, it's so that little rascals like you..." you drill both your index fingers onto their foreheads, "are easier to find if you ever get lost at sea."

how did i end up here...

facepalming yourself, you sigh. you were disappointed in yourself. how'd you let those little punks reel you in a dare? where was the self-respect? the dignity? seriously, breaking your grandmother's number 1 rule for what? 10 dollars?

you walk along the shore while wearing a flowy white shirt and neck encased in one of your mother's pearl necklaces. the dare was simple: successfully walk down the shoreline without chickening out and boom— an extra 10 dollars into your wallet.

you'd prove to the twins that you weren't scared of a little bedtime story. buuut just in case you did happen to go missing (for reasons that are totally not hungry sea serpent related), you brought essentials in a bag, left a letter for your family, and are currently being watched by the twins.

laughing at yourself for the paranoia, you nearly reach the edge of the walk until you hear a feminine wail from between the hidden rocks. is someone hurt? the sound was coming from beyond your finishing point so it wouldn't hurt to check, right?

signalling the twins to come over, you bend down to their heights, "listen, it sounds like someone's in trouble past those rocks. so I want you both to go grab the first aid kit and call Officer Holden over, 'kay?" they nod and scamper off into town.

approaching the rocks, you peek in to find a naked... mermaid?! observing her, you notice the torn skin on her iridescent tail and warily walk over to her. "uh... hey? hola? salve? hallo? i'm ah— good human! no... nooooo bad.."

you notice the air seems to smell... sweeter?

the woman looks up at you from the sand with pleading eyes, "please— please help me! my name is Coralie, my master, he—"

"woah, it's ok! you're safe, help is coming. uh, your master? did he do this to you? are you an underwater criminal?!"

a distant melodious voice interrupts you. Coralie's previously pained face now warps into a sinister grin as her wound disappears. she crawls towards you as your vision fogs up and your knees buckle to the soft sand. the song lulls you into a deep sleep, your body now being pulled into the shallow waters.

you awake to the bright rays of sunshine and lungs filling in with fresh air. but the next in your line of sight knocked all the air out of your body again.

the luminous, barely-clothed body of an unknown man sat above you. his 9'7 self relaxed on the marble throne, with 2 pairs of eyes fixated on you. what the fuck is that?

you gawk at him, "holy mother of god..."

i'm not dreaming, am i?

his gaze shifts into amusement, "wrong. we gods do not have mothers. we were created."

"you're a... a god?"

"is it not obvious enough from my appearance? would you like to see another version of me?" the towering deity begins to warp into a feminine body as if it was melting and moulding itself. "is this preferable?" her new voice is flirtatious, genuinely curious.

then, she tries to warp into a third body. the transformation looks more painful than the one prior, it barely shifts halfway into a gruesome beast before returning back to its first body. he huffs while grasping his golden collar, "this... is not my original form. I have been cursed, long ago, to never set foot on human lands. this island is both my kingdom and prison."

you shakily stand up the marble floor, now noticing Coralie standing beside the throne with a pair of legs. slowly processing his words, you piece together the clues from his story and your memories of the abduction. this couldn't be...

"you are.. you're the sea serpent god! I can't believe grandma was right— shit, shit shit—"

he smirks at your panic, "correct. I am Anshumat; shapeshifter deity of the raging tides, granter of safe travels—"

"murderer and enslaver." you complete.

Anshumat roars, "correct again! you're on a strike, dear y/n. though trust me, my servants are treated well."

"..how do you know my name?"

"oh you poor thing, granny never told you? I know everything about you— a name is barely anything."

"told me what?"

"she used to be my cupbearer. until she escaped with that bastard traitor. isn't that right, Coralie?"

she nods, "yes, master."

"please sir, let me leave. my family— they'll search for me! I have a cat at home! I haven't even finished my favourite show.. so please..." you try to list more life goals.

he chuckled, "oh you are so amusing. and why would I do that? we've barely just been engaged, dear."

"what do you mean engaged?"

"I've been watching you since you took your first breath on earth, y/n. so imagine my surprise— to see you wrapped up in my favourite colour, like a pretty bride. you're my sacrifice."

fear tingles your spine, "wait, that was just a dare! i didn't really mean it!"

"doesn't matter. you will be my pearl."

"no! I have a family, a partner—"

"i said... it doesn't fucking matter." he slams his fist against the throne arm, "and you'll be seeing the head of that twat soon enough."

you don't give him a glance before you're turning your back and run down the staircase of the grand temple. careful not to trip, you focus on the flight of stairs, painfully aware of the loud footsteps approaching behind you. it doesn't take a second for Anshumat to pull on the collar of your shirt and slam you onto the staircase.

he sits atop you, lower region heavily grinding against your stomach. "get off me! don't you have hundreds of other options?! why me?!" you scream.

his bedazzled skin blocks your view of the sun, furious eyes glowing under his shadow, and sharp teeth bared into a snarl. "you do not get to leave me again. you will stay, and worship me. this island will be our eternal paradise."

large hands pressing against your throat, you struggle before darkness begins to cloud your vision.

"this time, you will live."

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lawsofchaos1 · 1 year

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Promptlet: Nephilim Language

I know it's not a totally new concept, but I adore the idea of the nephilim having their own language, some cobbled together combination of Latin, Aramaic, Hebrew, Greek, and a few other odds and ends from ancient times. All nephilim speak it, it's their lingua franca, but only the old lines learn it as their mother tongue.

It's a point of pride for Idris families that they learn to speak Nephil before any regional mundane languages like the Institute-based families. So, even though Maryse and Robert are forbidden from Idris, Nephil is the only language Alec and his siblings are allowed to speak for the first several years of their lives. (Alec doesn't even learn English until he's seven. )

The Downworlders know, in theory, that the Shadowhunters have their own language, but it's incredibly rare for a nephilim to actually use it in front of outsiders. Thus, the language is more a rarely-thought of curiosity than anything else for those who don't belong to the Clave.

After Magnus and Alec get together, Alec falls into thinking of the loft as home.

And Alec has never really had a home before.

Alec has been in line for the Headship of the NYI his entire life- he's never had the opportunity to relax or to just be a child in the Institute. Even growing up he knew he would be expected to lead the men and women around him, and he could never let down his guard or show any weakness.

In the loft, Alec is relaxed and content and, when his head is laying in Magnus' lap and Magnus is stroking his hair softly across his forehead, Alec sometimes slips into Nephil without even realizing it.

What if just like Alec begins learning Indonesian for Magnus, Magnus quietly asks Alec if it's allowed for him to learn Nephil? And Alec is taken aback at the question because... because Nephil is the language that is, it's the language that describes the universe, it doesn't - it can't - belong to just one group of people.

But, even though Alec thinks that way, Magnus is more cognizant than him that most Shadowhunters wouldn't want a Warlock learning the language that they believe to be spoken by the Angels.

However, one day, Alec is injured badly on a hunt and Magnus is rushed to his side in the infirmary. The injuries can't be healed by magic and a Silent Brother is working on him, but Alec is in immense pain, the English stolen from him and Magnus can't keep silent.

In front of all the Shadowhunters in the infirmary- in front of Jace and Isabelle and Andrew and everyone else - Magnus slips his hand into Alec's and turns his husband's face towards his. Taking a deep breath, he opens his mouth and Nephil flows out. He ignores the gaps and the sudden snapping of eyes to the back of his head and he pours out his love for Alec in the very language that shaped the world.

#writing prompt #headcanon #shadowhunters #malec #Alec Lightwood deserves nice things #Magnus Bane deserves nice things #worldbuilding #lawsofchaos rambles

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workingclasshistory · 1 year

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On this day, 7 December 1975, Indonesia invaded East Timor, beginning 24 years of brutal occupation which would leave up to a fifth of the local population dead in a genocide which was made possible by support from the US. East Timor gained independence following the Portuguese revolution of 1974. Neighbouring Indonesia, under the anti-communist dictator president Suharto, feared a left-wing government taking power and invaded. The subsequent occupation resulted in the deaths of 200,000 people or more. The military equipment used in the genocide, including fighter jets, bombs, napalm and guns, was provided by the United States. When asked if US weapons were used in the genocide, one senior Indonesian general replied: "Of course there were US weapons used. These are the only weapons that we have." When Indonesian troops finally withdrew in 1999, they massacred over 1000 people and burned down 80% of buildings in the country. Pictured: Suharto meeting with US President Richard Nixon, 1970 Learn more about the Portuguese revolution in our podcast episodes 41-42: https://workingclasshistory.com/podcast/e41-42-the-portuguese-revolution/ https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/2154732701378535/?type=3

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herwoahno-after-dark · 5 months

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Final few drawings from this sketchbook now that I’m recycling it! Kind of sad because this particular notebook was one I used as a little kid, it has some suuuper old and embarrassingly bad (but funny) drawings in it.

Also just going to put this here; I know something kind of blew up here over the weekend in this corner of Tumblr. Dr. Tezuka has been dead for several decades now, so we will never know exactly what “ending” he thought about for Tenma and Astro further than how they got separated and never really permanently reunited throughout his numerous re-writes and loose canon tendencies. That’s up to us to parse and make meaning of and potentially imagine beyond for ourselves as audience members of the series, which many fans have done over the years (And even any other official work done after Tezuka’s passing, like AB2003 and ATB, Pluto etc are basically the same thing). I believe we are allowed to disagree with the evaluations of media that others come up with, whether just in our heads or posted publicly! However, it is not our job to budge every last person’s opinion on the internet. We may “see” each other on a somewhat regular basis because, let’s face it, this fandom is pretty small, but at the end of the day none of us know everything that informs the meaning being made by the others — and we are not obligated to disclose such personal information for any reason, in real life or online. To give you an example and offer up something about myself, Astro as a character resonates with me in large part because he stands on the border between one group and another; although he is certainly a robot, he lives his life as a human would most of the time, creating a split between himself and other robots while still not being accepted fully into human society. It gives him a unique opportunity to bridge the two together, but as a result he can never be entirely one or the other. The reason why I find that fascinating is because I am a second-gen immigrant Asian-American, and it forms some parallels with the way I feel in my own life, having been raised more American than Asian. Also, my parents are culturally Chinese-Indonesian, but ethnically appear Chinese (as do I). I will never be fully accepted into native Chinese, Indonesian, or Chinese-Indonesian communities because I act too much like an “American” despite my appearance. I will also never be fully accepted into the American community I live in because I still cling onto some of my heritage, and of course also because of my appearance. But maybe due to my experience in both worlds, the chances have increased that I could foster greater empathy, interest, or understanding between them, and Astro gives me hope for that.

However— I wouldn’t expect anyone here to know that (or even remember after reading it — it’s fine, you can purge the info from your brain LOL) even if it does affect my readings of certain scenarios and stories. If someone were to post something that doesn’t acknowledge or reflect the perspective I have, I can feel any type of way about it, but I have to remind myself I don’t know where they’re coming from and to try not to take it too personally, since they don’t know where I’m coming from either. Maybe someone has had the exact opposite experience from me, maybe they just haven’t been in any comparable situation to begin with, they could also be a lot younger or older, or from another part of the world — on the internet you really just don’t know, and a person doesn’t really have to tell you if they don’t want to. Personally, once I’ve said my piece, I’ve said it. If someone disagrees with me over the same point repeatedly, and I considered their viewpoint but decided to retain mine, I don’t continue to engage them, because I know it gets unproductive sooner or later (neither side changes their mind or learns anything new, if anything we both just become more stubborn about our own arguments because we have to keep making the same one over and over). I do think about Tezuka’s and other artists’ work very seriously, as an artist myself and an aspiring professional, and I believe that’s a valid angle to come from. Yet I often just draw things on a whim despite the aforementioned, and as embarrassing as it is to admit, most of my drawings have very little meaning. I just post on here hoping it might make someone else a bit happier to see it; I suspect that many others in the community do the same. (Obviously if I misrepresent something severely in my own work, which I hope I will not but you never know, I want someone to tell me about it, but I didn’t think this was the case in the particular situation happening now.)

and… I will freely admit to sharing outlandish internet takes both as a kid and as an adult, then changing my mind and looking back on it, as well as my behavior in general, later with regret 😭 it will happen again, I’m sure… perhaps this is one and I should have kept my mouth shut, but I hope this at least gave some of my perspective. If you want to probe any further into my thoughts or ask for clarification you can!

#Astro boy oh boy

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just-antithings · 8 months

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Re: refrainbow (creator of the Boyfriends webtoon) saying the n-word. (Note, I'll be switching between he and they pronouns for refrainbow, since he uses both, I hope it doesn't end up confusing. Also, the bold is to help with reading (at least, it helps with my ADHD, but there's also a td;lr at the bottom as well))

I don't have screenshots or links, but it's been noted that refrainbow has admitted to having said it when he was younger and still learning English (mostly from the internet). They are Indonesian and did not know the history behind the slur. I'm not sure they even knew it was a slur until getting called out for it; from what I've seen, refrainbow thought it was English slang calling someone stupid or bad, due to learning it through I think gaming, where the n-word and other slurs were often thrown around liberally.

People ofc are valid being wary around refrainbow or anyone who's used the n-word or other slurs as general insults (or just saying them in general). No one is entitled to anyone's forgiveness.

One thing I've seen thought up, though, is people saying that refrainbow should have known anyway that the word was off-limits. One anti art-commentary youtuber said, "I knew as a little kid that it was a BAD word, that you just DO NOT say." And yes, as an American kid, I'm sure they were observant enough to realize that it was a horrible word, even if they did not automatically know the history of that word.

Refrainbow is NOT American. He was learning English mainly through the internet, iirc, and even if he was also taking formal English classes, there usually isn't a section on slurs in said language. Now, in my French class, part of the lesson plan was learning about racism north African and Middle Eastern people faced in France (a very compressed lesson; I barely remember what the teacher told us in that lecture). We were not told slurs and told "Do not, under any circumstances, say these words." If I'd been in an online gaming community with a bunch of French kids back then, there is every possibility I could have repeated slurs in French, not knowing they were slurs, if everyone around me were using them like general insults. I would have assumed it was slang first, not slurs.

As for why antis add refrainbow saying the n-word at the very end of a rant/call-out, this is a pretty common tactic that I've seen in call-out-type posts I end up coming across. Lots of buzzwords are used, many with the barest amount of "evidence" (if there is any, or if there is, it's usually worst-faith takes of some post or passage from a fic). Usually it's full of rhetoric meant to stoke people's anger or disgust, and then at the very end is a claim not mentioned in the bulk of the call-out/rant and usually a shorter sentence. It's usually something worse than what else has been stated and may or may not come with actual proof, and this last part might be actually true or true if you hide context around it.

I think there are two main reasons for this. One is that depending on how long the call-out/rant is, most people are more likely to pay attention to just the beginning and end parts, skimming over the rest. Placing "the worse/worst thing" at the end then makes sure people actually read it. Another reason (tied to the first reason) is that this last point is more likely to stick in people's memories this way, so if people only skimmed the rest, they're more likely to believe the other points are true, too, especially if that last point has evidence attached or is easily searched.

There's been a few call-outs in my fandom recently (some were technically responses to earlier call-outs, showing proof that the original people making their call-out posts were lying/twisting the truth), so whenever I find myself getting disgusted or upset, I make sure to go back and read it more closely (if the call-out is about someone I follow/a mutual; I don't have energy to read rants about people I've never heard of before).

td;lr: refrainbow did say the n-word before, he's apologized, explaining that he was still learning English at the time and didn't know how bad the word was, and using points like this at the bottom of a call-out post seems to be deliberate, so that people remember The Bad Thing about the person more clearly.

#mod erin #ask #just anti things #posted without comment #n word mention

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chapitre7 · 5 months

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I want to look at the stars with you for another 10.000 days

Midnight Series: Moonlight Chicken พระจันทร์มันไก่ | Moonlight Chicken (TV) fanfiction

HeartLiMing

2k words

For @remapped-soul

Read on AO3

How are you? Are you sleeping? Are you eating? Is it very hard?

Heart’s mom always asks the same questions whenever she calls, hands clasped together after she’s done. Sitting back in his couch, Heart can predict the signs before she even finishes them. His father lets her speak, an arm around her shoulders, his eyes following Heart’s replies. Heart doesn’t mind the flow of their conversation, and he doesn’t think his father is uninterested. Sometimes, his father will wire him money and tell him to buy a book he had mentioned he wanted, or tell him to buy something for dinner when Heart mentions studying late into the night.

His father is always polite to Li Ming when he sees him, while Heart’s mom says Li Ming is too skinny and has dark circles under his eyes and is he taking care of himself, are they taking advantage of him at work, are they treating him well?

Heart understands his father a little more as he learns to live with Li Ming.

He has categorized his smiles — genuine to Heart’s mother, strained when he gets home, tired but warm in the morning. He can tell by the curve of his spine when something is bothering him, and Heart pokes at him until Li Ming speaks. When he wakes up before Li Ming, when he has the privilege to watch Li Ming rise, the pale sunrise on his face, the light reflecting in his eyes, Heart follows every movement he makes. The tilt of his chin, his fingers closing around the blanket, the shadows cast by his eyelashes on his cheek. His lips say good morning and Heart’s lips form the same words, and it still makes Li Ming smile wide, showing all the cherished creases on his face.

Every day settles on him like the warm sun, routine falling into place with ease. Every day, Heart knows a little more. Knows when Li Ming needs to vent his frustrations or excitedly share something new he learned at work. Knows when Li Ming needs to be left alone, eyes still looking for the bartending job he wants but does not yet have. Another day ends, another day begins.

How is Heart doing?

Heart can attend classes again, have his own groups again. Now he has people on his phone who post a really absurd amount of stickers and talk shit about their professors just like everyone else. He can eat ice cream when it’s chilly and do his homework outside while brown leaves fall from their branches. He takes pictures of stray cats and sends them to Li Ming – even though he knows they can’t keep a pet at their current housing – like a shared secret. Sometimes Li Ming says they could sneak it in through the back door. Maybe just to see Heart laugh, but Heart would not put it past him. Not when Li Ming gets a certain glint in his eyes.

America is colder, but not always. When he can walk with Li Ming, his hand in Li Ming’s hand, it’s different. To walk with Li Ming in daylight, to discover everything with him, is different. He watches Li Ming speak with others with increasing confidence, lips shaping words Heart learned once, but that are harder to recognize now. He doesn’t get lost with Li Ming. They walk and walk and walk, until the streetlights are on and their legs are sore, and Heart doesn’t get tired of it. Maybe he will, someday. Heart doesn’t think about that. There is so much he wants to see, and so much Li Ming wants to share. With his hand in Heart’s hand, careful so Heart can follow.

When Heart finishes all of his homework and the night is long and Li Ming is not yet back, Heart grabs his phone and dreams of endless places to see with Li Ming. He wants to travel to see the cherry blossoms in Japan, to roam through the streets of Hong Kong at night, see the color of Indonesian waters. What is Canada like during autumn? What are the lavender fields like in France? Heart dreams of the days he first left his room with Li Ming, seemingly so long ago now, and the exhilaration he can’t help but seek again and again and again.

But when he talks to Li Ming about it, there’s a straight line in his lips. He looks at the pictures Heart shows him and he agrees that it all looks beautiful, but there is no enthusiasm in him. Heart doesn’t look for a promise, for a solid plan. When he shows his phone to Li Ming and looks at him, Heart is only thinking of the following year. And the one after that. To be with him, to stay with him.

Perhaps his flaw is that he has become too comfortable. That he believes they understand each other perfectly, but forgets Li Ming can’t read his thoughts. When Heart keeps talking about traveling, when he pulls Li Ming to look when he tries to turn away, he doesn’t expect Li Ming to explode.

“I don’t know when we can leave! I don’t know, Heart!”

His mouth moves as he signs, and then he aborts another phrase, something that Heart thinks he knows, thinks he understands, from all that Li Ming has shared with him.

“I can do it for you,” Heart tells him, because he can. Eventually, Heart believes anything will be possible. “For us. You don’t have to provide for me.”

You’re not my caretaker, he thinks, but doesn’t externalize. He’s thankful he doesn’t. The fight leaving Li Ming in heavy breaths is enough, as are the hard steps that Heart feels but can’t hear as Li Ming walks away and leaves, the dinner forgotten on the stove.

Heart can’t sleep without Li Ming.

Or he can, but he doesn’t want to. His body aches, his eyes sting, but he doesn’t allow himself to sleep. He doesn’t want to fall asleep and miss Li Ming coming back. He wants to stand by the front door, but he doesn’t. He paces around their bedroom, sits on the bed and hugs his knees to his chest. He looks at the lamp on his bedside table until the glare draws shadows on his retinas.

Before Li Ming, he didn’t want much. He wanted to breathe, and to walk, and to extend his arms beyond the walls of a home that didn’t feel like a home. With Li Ming, he wants so much. Every second is precious, a moment he can’t miss. He wants to graduate fast, and start working, and feel like he can stand on his own for the first time. In a paradoxical way, he never wants the current days to end; he, sitting by Li Ming’s side in the living room, both of them immersed in their own studies, until Heart drops his head on Li Ming’s shoulder, feeling the vibration of his English practice, until the words morph into humor, until Li Ming is nudging him and poking him and he’s giggling and they’re wrestling on the floor, and every worry seems as small as a speckle of dust when compared to Li Ming’s smile.

Heart wants everything. The future, every city across the globe, every minute and every second of the present with Li Ming. He wants Li Ming. How long has he been gone, will he come back now?

Heart only realizes he’s crying when he looks up at the figure of Li Ming by the door and he can’t properly see his face or his expression, his vision blurred by dark spots and tears. He stays where he is, raises his hands before he lets them drop to his lap and then he raises them again. He wants to reach for Li Ming and wipe his own tears because this is his fault, and he’s saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” until Li Ming stops his hands and embraces him.

Li Ming isn’t crying. After a few minutes of crying all over his shirt, Heart feels embarrassed, but he still keeps his arms around Li Ming, and his head on Li Ming’s shoulder. He’s playing with the hem of Li Ming’s shirt and wondering if he’s too selfish when Li Ming pushes him back and they finally look at each other. Li Ming looks exhausted.

“Did you eat?” Heart asks, and Li Ming can only give him an unconvincing half-smile. Heart makes to stand but Li Ming grabs his wrist and pulls him back to bed.

“Tomorrow,” is his response, and Heart frowns but doesn’t fight him.

Li Ming stands and starts changing, and in the warm pool of the lamp light, Heart thinks about how different he already looks from when they first met. Li Ming had always carried himself with a firmness in his step that Heart admired. Like he knew his place in the world. Heart knows it’s not exactly like that, now that he doesn’t worship Li Ming so much. Now that they have shared so many secrets, now that they share a life. But his shoulders seem broader now. Maybe not too much, but it’s noticeable to Heart. A small touch of time in their story.

Li Ming turns back to him. He’s tired but sincere, and Heart is filled with longing. He does open his arms to Li Ming then, calls for him without words, so he can finally lie down with an armful of Li Ming and surrender. What was it like to fall asleep without Li Ming’s scent, his weight against him? Heart doesn’t want to remember.

Are they sleeping? Are they eating? Are they well?

It’s colder in America. There are still places where Heart feels a tinge of helplessness if he goes alone, because people look at him and his language like he’s not someone who belongs there. There are days he sleeps slouched over the coffee table in the living room and wakes up with a headache when Li Ming has to get him to go to bed. And having to leave for classes and leave Li Ming asleep, peaceful and warm and beautiful, is a battle Heart has to fight too often.

But Heart loves his days. He loves his friends with whom he shares notes, stories from home, and movies every Thursday after class. He loves the overly sweet hot beverages the coffee shops serve once October comes. He loves it when children walk by his group of friends and wave and stare at the way they sign. And at the end of the day, at the start and end of it all, in every plan of his future—

The first snowflake Heart ever notices melts against Li Ming’s cheek.

“Ah,” he sees Li Ming say, his mouth opening in delight. Then he turns to Heart and signs, “the first snow.”

Heart doesn’t think Li Ming should lie with his head on Heart’s lap on a public bench, but Li Ming doesn’t seem to care.

“Wet,” Heart signs, and smiles when Li Ming chuckles.

“I know, I know. We’ll go in a second.”

Li Ming looks at the slowly falling snow and then at Heart. His red beanie almost matches his flushed cheeks perfectly. Heart places a hand on Li Ming’s chest. He wants to take Li Ming ice skating at the place his friends told him to go. He wants to go on a Christmas date with him with the city’s multicolored lights twinkling overhead, illuminating the night. And when the new year comes, he wants to tell Li Ming about all the new years he wants to see with him. Anywhere he wants to be.

Li Ming waves a hand in front of his eyes and he focuses back on the boy lying on his lap. The boy at the end of his scented road.

“I’m hungry,” Li Ming signs, and Heart laughs. It’s the way he says he doesn’t want to cook tonight.

“Let’s go home,” Heart replies. Still they don’t move. Not for a few beats, while the snow falls in thin swirls around them.

Tomorrow, Heart will tell him that he loves him.

Tonight, he loves him so much he cannot say anything.

#Moonlight Chicken #HeartLiMing #GeminiFourth #Post-End

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kurosiarevived · 7 months

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Hey Ms. Weird, wondering if the Kuros ever had a type of singing style, or like people sing at all. Kinda curious and hopin you okay!

3D! Aaay! Omg it's been so amazing seeing yall come back again, seriously. I hope you've been well!!!

Oh defo! The band Wardruna has been my biggest inspiration for Kurosian music. Though, Kurosia was massive in the sense that it had *many* cultures, each breed has their own part of Kurosia they're adapted to and each have slightly different cultures and music. Most have Norse influence, but for example those born by water can have Indonesian like influences where Brokt dragons born by mountains can have Mongolian like influences. The main capital is a melting pot of all the Kurosian cultures meshed into one.

I'll share a few Wardruna songs that I daydream with all the time! I wanna do storyboards to them, if I still had the means to make them I'd love to try 8,D Wardruna "Raido" - I've daydreamed of Athrenna for this one! This was her performing a ritual to her village to prove her devotion to her people, which involved her blinding herself by melting wax over her eyes and blindfolding herself and throwing herself off the edge of a cliff. She'd have to predict how close the seas were, avoid crashing into the waves and rocks, and fly back up to the village. She succeeds, and this action catches the eye of warriors from the capitol of Kurosia who suggest she protect her village by learning from the city.

Wardruna "Tyr" - MY FAVORITE!!! I love imagining a war band of Kuros and Umbracorns going through the Veil and singing this to Breithonakt to allow them safe passage. The beginning of this song is *exactly* how I imagined how it sounds in the Veil. You hear Breithonakt draw back to listen to the Kuros sing to him!

There's more I can comment if I remember them, but these two I've recently gone back to and listened remembering old daydreams. If I find more that I've forgotten, I'll be sure to share! Thank you again for sending in an ask 3D <3

#Kuros music #music #kurosia music #song

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ayashitetsuko · 7 months

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I often wonder how S2 is going to impact my fic writing. Yes, I’m starting to dabble in Kitty Bites (Fang x Izzy x Frenchie) mini fics and will continue to munch any Stizzy bits I can find, but …

I feel strongly inspired to write about food.

Like, I don’t know. Roach’s food diary? Izzy learning to accept love through food? Lucius recovering from his trauma by dropping cigarettes and beginning to eat properly?

Writing about food has always been equal to writing about love.

I subscribe to this magazine called Seasonings where contributors in Singapore write about family recipes and the stories behind them. I have always been a huge fan of the late Bondan Winarno, an Indonesian veteran journalist who covered hard news until he pivoted to writing about food. He hosted culinary shows and even wrote a book about … soy sauce. Because a simple condiment has depth history behind it.

The food we consume contains stories of generations of people. It was a story of survival, most of the time (You know how pizza came to be, right?). But it was also a story of hope. Care and compassion.

It’s always surprising where the fandom takes me.

#ofmd fics #ofmd s2 spoilers #food #kitty bites #izzy hands

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naurasweetarudesu · 8 months

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Hi! I'm wondering what drew you to the narrow gauge engines in particular and how you grew to love them! From a fellow narrow gauge fan <3

*Cracks knuckles* HeheheheHEHEHEHE...!

Let's begin from the beginning: I'm re-entering (gosh, is that even a word?) the fandom in October 2022. Y'all must know I have other interests other than TTTE, right? One of them was MBTI. Basically, one day I was scrolling through the Personality Data Base website to see the personality types of some characters from my childhood cartoons. Then I saw this on Peter Sam and Sir Handel's profiles:

(*btw, if you asking my opinion, No. I don't think Falcon is ENTJ. When the hell he show his Extroverted Thinking dominant thorough the show or book?*)

Since I was not really into TTTE when I was a kid, I was kind of surprised. Since when do they ever get called Stuart and Falcon? What episode? Because, tbh, I've just seen a little of the classic eras episode. They were never dubbed into Indonesian, so I never knew much of it when I was still a kid.

So, I hurried up to YouTube to see some of the episodes from classic eras. Mainly season 4 because, well, I heard the narrow gauge was introduced in season 4, and let me tell you, I just fell in love with everything in the season. The set, the warm vibes, how the characters interact with each other—they're just UVDTCIYQQFC- (*Shaking fist violently*).

Especially when I watched the Unlucky Tug's Sodor's Finest about Skarloey and learned how intertwined Skarloey is with a real-life railway, Talyllyn. His relationship with Rheneas is making me flutter. How sweet, from enemies to best friends, huh? Neat :) Or how Rheneas bravely saves the railway to parallel Dolgoch. His interaction with Skarloey in their youth is also gold. I mean, you can't tell me the: "No, thank you! You looks like a snail with that house on your back!" is not funny.

I also love how angsty and bittersweet Duke, Sir Handel, and Peter Sam's stories are. As someone who lost her loving grandpa at a young age, theyre kinda resonates with me (even though they get their happy ending while I don't). Duncan is borderline relatable and funny too. (It got better when I knew he actually swears too, even though it's just implied.)

So I fall deeper into it. Research them like crazy, get interested in Talyllyn too, listen to more of their RWS stories as audiobooks, and watch other seasons, but I always come back to season 4. Let's just say I made season 4 and the little engines home, and there's no better place than home :)

#Ask #Skarloey Railway #Ttte

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dicaculus · 8 months

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Title: A Pile of Hot Metal and Dirty Dishes

Artist: Crankyfossil

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Magnus Bane/ Alec Lightwood

Wordcount:42,462

Summary: Magnus Bane is the Head Chef at Encanto and doing just fine. Or that’s what he tells Simon the therapist, his boss Raphael, orders him to go to. Magnus is a genius in the kitchen, his food is art, but if he starts a fight with one more disrespectful customer, he’s gone. Simon is useless though, going on about Magnus using work as a means to distance himself from meaningful relationships, and emotional walls that could rival a fortress. What does he know? Magnus is fine. Then everything goes wrong. His best friend, Catarina and her daughter get into an accident. His eight-year-old niece, Madzie, is the only survivor and Magnus finds himself going from cool uncle Magnus to the only parent Madzie has left. To make matters worse, Raphael has replaced him while he’s on leave. Alexander Lightwood is a menace. He’s careless, breezy, and annoyingly good at everything he does. Magnus can’t stand him, but with Madzie refusing to eat his cooking and his hands full, Magnus needs all the help he can get. Along the way, Magnus begins to realize there’s more to life than seared cod and lemon dressing, and maybe, just maybe, it’s a life that he wants Alexander Lightwood in.

This fic was created for the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2023.

READ ON AO3

CHAPTER EIGHT

Magnus doesn’t tell Madzie about leaving the restaurant. Madzie loves Encanto, and he knows it would break her heart knowing she’d never be back so he spares her and lies telling her he took time off, but he positive Madzie doesn’t believe him. Instead, he spends the rest of the week seriously looking into starting his own place. For the first time in years Magnus looks into the steps to starting his own restaurant. He meets with an accountant talking about finances and just how much it will cost him and what type of loan would be best for him. He works with a real estate agent looking for the perfect building. But everything is too big or doesn’t fit the laid back bistro he has in mind. Magnus works on his concept, his brand and looks through his piles of recipes to come up with a menu. Creating a menu means recipe testing, so poor Madzie becomes his guinea pig. While she likes some of his creations, her child palate makes things difficult for him. Magnus needs an adult, someone who will try new foods and flavours. He needs Alec.

Despite keeping himself busy with menu planning, Magnus’s thoughts always come back to Alec. Every recipe he wonders what he would think. Would he like it? Would it bring a smile to the beautiful man’s face and would he hear noises of satisfaction as he took a bite? Magnus misses Alec so much he develops a pasta dish with him in mind, an Indonesian twist on one of Alec’s favourite dishes to be exact, Aglio e Olio.

“Spaghetti with garlic and oil,” He’d said ��It’s such a simple, yet incredible dish if made correctly”

Monday comes again and Magnus while Magnus doesn’t have to see Simon anymore, now that he’s not working at Encanto, he goes anyway, needing someone to talk to. He lets it all out, telling him about the fight, how much he regretted it and the things he’d said. Magnus talks about leaving Encanto and feeling terrified for future and lost for the first time in a long time.

“I wish there was a cookbook for life, you know? With the recipes telling us exactly what to do,” Magnus sigh. “I know, I know. You’re gonna say, How else can we learn, Magnus?”

“No. Actually, I wasn’t gonna say that”

Magnus sits up on the couch. “Really?”

Simon nods. “What I was gonna say was, you know better than anyone. It’s the recipes you create yourself that are the best.”

Magnus snorts. It’s cheesy, but Simon is right.

When he picks Madzie up from school that afternoon, he decides to break the news about Encanto. To his surprise, she takes it well. He expected crying, tears, hell, even screaming, but instead she nods.

“It’s not the same without Alec”

Magnus nods sadly. “You’re right. It’s not Madzie, I miss him too”

“If you miss him, why don’t you say you’re sorry? Tell him not to go. Make a wish of his come true, like you did with me”

Magnus hums, it’s not a bad idea. “What do think Alec would wish for sweet pea?

“Your cooking, of course!”

So while Madzie does her homework that evening, Magnus cooks for Alec. He cooks him ayam goreng, an Indonesian fried chicken like he promised and his spin on aglio e olio that he knows Alec will either love or hate. Once Madzie is fed a serving of the fried chicken and it gets a thumbs up from her, he wraps up the rest of the food and leaves the apartment.

The drive to Alec’s place is longer than he thought it would be, it takes him forty-five minutes, most of it spent on the highway in slow traffic. No wonder it took him too long to get to his place when they’d made pizzas. But when Magnus does arrive, he snorts at the industrial style of the apartment course Alec would live in something like this. Magnus parks his car and, with food in hand, marches up to the front, lets himself in through the unlocked door. Magnus takes a terrifying elevator ride to the second floor in what Magnus swears is an elevator older than he is and looks for Alec’s apartment. He hears the familiar sound of opera the second he’s out of the elevator. Smiling to himself, Magnus follows the Italian singing until he’s stood outside a door that says 12. He stands in front it and takes a deep breath before kicking the door a few times rather than knocking because of his full hands. Only moments later, Alec slides the metal door open with a shocked expression, not expecting to see Magnus.

“I think you should know there’s something else I never do.” Magnus says before Alec has a chance to speak.

Alec huffs and with a smirk leans against the door frame, “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“I never invite myself into a man’s home, blindfold him and feed him ayum goreng and pasta dish he inspired because I couldn’t get his stupid face out of my head while begging him not to go to San Francisco.”

“You never do that?”

Magnus shakes his head, his eyes welling up with tears, afraid Alec will close the door. “Never.”

Alec nods. “That’s too bad.” Then he slides, pushes the door with his fist so it opens further and takes a step towards Magnus, taking the dishes from him and walking into his apartment, leaving the door open for Magnus.

Magnus steps into the apartment and gently shuts the door behind him. The apartment is beautiful, with big windows which must let in the most beautiful sunlight, a large comfortable looking couch against some exposed brick.

“Magnus, I��”

“I left Encanto,” Magnus interrupts. “I dropped a raw tomahawk steak on a customer’s plate and left.”

Alec blinks in shock. “You, what?”

“Because I was miserable Alexander, you were right. I hate cooking that food! And after I left, all I could think about was the things I said to you in the freezer. I meant none of them.” Magnus takes another breath and steps towards Alec, who stares at him. “Madzie told me maybe if I granted a wish of yours, you’d forgive me and maybe you’ll stay”

“You’re taking relationship advice from an eight-year-old?”

Magnus groans “It was better than idea I had”

Alec chuckles, then takes a step forward and grabs Magnus’s hand, pulling him close and wrapping an arm around Magnus’s waist. Then he cups Magnus’s jaw with his other hand and Alec strokes Magnus’s cheek with his calloused thumb and kisses him gently before pulling away.

“If that fried chicken tastes as good as it smells, I won’t go to San Fransico”

Magnus hums and kisses Alec again. “I look forward to helping you unpack, Alexander”

—-

Without Magnus and Alec, Encanto closes its doors a few months later. The space goes up for sale only a week later and Magnus buys it immediately from ready to transform the dark walls into a warm, welcoming bistro. It takes nearly a year of work and spending more money than Magnus thought he’d have to, but a little over a year after he bought the place Catarina’s opens.

Long gone are the black walls and the dim lighting. Now there are big windows letting plenty of light in, outdoor seating and warm colours on the wall, making the restaurant feel welcoming to everyone. Magnus hires some of his previous staff, including Clary and, of course, Alec, with Alec and Magnus working together the restaurant is an immediate hit and soon they there’s a line down the block to get a table.

Madzie comes to Catarina’s every day after school, she often sits in a booth that’s she’d dubbed her own and finish her homework before helping in the kitchen much like she’d previously done at Encanto but this time she’s in bed before midnight. And just like Magnus always wanted, he gets to share his heritage, his Indonesian flavours, in a modern way and in a more traditional way.

Working together isn’t always easy for the couple. Sometimes they bickered in the walk in, causing Clary to intervene and split the kitchen in half like they’d done at Encanto the night they first cooked together.

But despite that, neither would want their life any other way, especially Magnus, who felt the weight of a ring in his pants pocket as he waited for the perfect moment to present it to Alec.

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southeastasianhistories · 2 years

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Over the week that we spend in Bali, Pak Arwen, the minivan driver, becomes friendly with my father. This happens because they are both Indonesian-Chinese – which is to say that they share a shiver down the spine regarding certain historical dates, political figures and tribalist slurs.

At some point, when it became too difficult to be Chinese in Sumatra, each man's family gambled the present for its future. My father's fled for Singapore and Pak Arwen's for Bali. Decades later, the two men occupy different stations in life: my father plays a tuan to Pak Arwen's supir. But their shared memory of this gamble – and the conditions that forced it – levels the playing field a little.

Both men, being Christian-Chinese, have lived the parable about the pillar of salt. They understand the importance of moving forward, eyes fixed to the line on the horizon.

Is Pak Arwen looking forward or backward when he tells us: This is too much? He says this as we drive past a large banner, stirring in the breeze by the side of the road. The banner is bright red, with a slogan in block capitals: TOLAK REKLAMASI TELUK BENOA. Resist the reclamation of Benoa Bay.

This is one of the first non-English signs that we've seen all day, which makes me think that it's not for tourists. Or perhaps it's for a specific kind of tourist – the kind that's stayed here long enough to perceive that something isn't on offer to them, and want a part in it anyway.

My father asks: What do you mean?

And Pak Arwen responds, one hand circling the steering wheel for eloquence: Nothing is good enough here. Roads, land, water…

The road in front of us is marked by potholes; the banner speaks of land problems. What about water? I sprint through some figures: say there are 5,000 hotels here plus hundreds of unregistered villas, and each one has a pool…

I think about the news stories that I have read, on The Jakarta Post and Al Jazeera. Impossible to describe how much of this island's water goes into making, and maintaining, glamour. Each week, scores of foreign developers reach into Bali's south coast, summoning up yoga studios and restaurants by the dozen. Trump shakes hands with Harry Tanoe and a golfer's empire materialises, sun-bleached and thirsty by the gallon.

But all this diverts water from the poorer North, where most locals live. In this land of glassy infinity pools, more than half the rivers have already run dry. Streams still criss-cross the terraced rice fields of Ubud. But deeper underground, the freshwater banks are pulling back from parched earth. Bali's farmers live the reality that its tourists cannot see – at night, they sleep in their fields with one eye open for irrigation thieves.

Later, I root around online for more stories about Benoa Bay. I learn that Tommy Winata, the Indonesian billionaire, is trying to reclaim land there. He wants to coax hectares of malls, theme parks and an F1 track out of swampland. But this floating world will crush the coral reefs that protect Bali's coastline and keep the sea at bay. Eventually it will flood the island, dragging whole villages into the sea.

In a place like Bali – I tell myself – the supply of pleasure must always meet the demand for it. Even if it costs the future for some people; even if it means death.

After all this is paradise, where nothing ever runs out.

Let me tell you another story about Bali that I know. This one is a creation story, concerning the beginnings of paradise.

Imagine that the year is 1906. Bali is an island divided. Dutch forces have occupied the northern territories, leaving three Hindu kingdoms where once there were six. Today, they begin the march south to complete their reign, winding downwards from Tabanan to Badung to the offshore court of Klungkung.

This story is an old one, whose basic tenets are familiar to many people around the world. At heart, it is a story about mismatched means and ends: guns versus kris, ambition versus ancestral claims.

The Dutch troops begin their journey. Quickly, they pass through the city of Kesiman to reach their first stop, Denpasar. At first, the city streets seem too quiet: where is the resistance that they come ready to meet? But as the soldiers advance, they hear something stirring in the distance, from the direction of Denpasar palace: the faint but unmistakable pulse of drums.

And so they go on. As they near the palace, a procession of silent figures files out from its gates. From a distance, they spy the Raja on his palanquin surrounded by courtiers and priests, wives and guards, and children and servants. There are hundreds of people now, robed in white with dusty feet. Flowers laced into their hair.

Both parties, the Dutch and the Balinese, advance. Now there are 200 paces between them; now, 100. The gap between two worlds is narrowing. Then it closes for the century to come, and possibly forever: a puputan commences. The Raja steps down from his palanquin and gives a signal. Instantly someone lunges forward and knifes him in the chest. Motion erupts across the landscape as men force weapons into their children, then stab themselves. Women fling jewels into the air and then topple, wailing, onto their knives.

Dark liquid starts to fill the ground. A metallic scent rises. But Balinese people keep emerging from the palace in a slow, unstoppable stream. When they're within sight of the Dutch troops, they plunge forward onto their daggers, then collapse into the growing snarl of limbs.

Their bodies cover the ground, both protest and decree.

By this point the Dutch soldiers have opened fire, then ceased fire, then opened fire again. They don't know what to do. Several centuries of colonial rule have left them untrained for situations involving consent – and this seems like more than consent, seems close to an invitation. Eventually, they resort to doing what they know best – which is to seize what isn't on offer, looting the corpses for anything that gleams through the sticky mess of fluids.

There will be two more puputans before Bali falls completely, both of them photographed. Eventually, these pictures will cause a kind of moral backlash in Europe, with the thumping of Bibles and pontifical braying. Desperate to hold on to their empire, the Dutch will announce a new resolution: from now on, they will protect Balinese culture and not gun it down. In fact, they resolve to protect Balinese culture so soundly that it never changes from its present state or experiences the advancements of modern life.

Let the world move slowly here, their edicts declare. Progress is not for the pure of heart. Which is what the Balinese people are, presumably – puputans notwithstanding.

For decades to come, Dutch laws will force the Balinese people to wear Baju Endek and not linen pants – to converse in local dialects and not Malay, the regional code of rebellion. All over the island, atap roofs will sprout over modern innovations in galvanised iron. Whole dances will be invented for the Balinese people to perfect, then unleash upon large groups of tourists.

Soon, these tourists will be everywhere, scouring the island with their notepads at the ready – fresh from the war in Europe, and hungry for visions of innocence. Look at this place, they'll say, pointing at random to rice fields and bare-chested women. What authentic culture; what happy natives! So simple and contented with their lot.

They'll forget about the puputans, the cold carpet of bodies.

Bali becomes a paradise on earth.

Island Paradise, Tjoa Shze Hui

#bali #indonesia #tourism #dutch colonisation

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bintadnan · 1 year

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WHY ARABIC?

Scholars have often explained that Allah made it in Arabic because the original audience was Arab – this is based on reading the plural pronouns “you” here as referring to the Arabs who were being addressed directly. Of course, it was necessary for them to hear the message in their language. But there's a larger question here: Allah knew that when He says “so all of you understand”, and we read this in 2020 as a global community, it is not just the people of Makkah and Madinah who need to understand, but “all of you” in Asia, Africa, Europe, Australia, America, and across the planet. Isn't this a book for all of humanity? So how come it’s in one language? It’s not my fault that I'm Asian, or somebody else's fault that they're European, or somebody else's fault that they're African. Should it have come in different languages and dialects for each group of people?

This is actually a deep question. The answer, for me, is a few things. First, that Allah prepared the Arabic language for the final revelation. The story begins with Isma'il (as) as you can find in the books of Seerah… but basically, Allah chose the Ka'bah to be in the desert, in an isolated place with no natural resources whatsoever until the coming of the Prophet ﷺ. So the Arab people were just herding sheep, and taking their camels across the desert for trade, but they were isolated, and the great empires of the world – such as the Roman Empire and the Persian Empire – nobody was interested in the Arab lands to extend their empire, because what are they going to do in the desert? What are they going to get from it? Trees? Agriculture? Are they going to get gold? Oil hasn't been discovered yet. They're just left alone, to their own devices, and their language becomes isolated for the most part. They do pick up some words from Persian and Greek, and when they do trade here and there, they pick up words and they incorporate them into their language, but not like what happens to the great international languages. Ironically, an easy example of the opposite nowadays is Makkah: when you go for Hajj or Umrah, and you visit the marketplace, you've got some Senegalese guy selling the prayer rugs and he's selling it to some Indonesian woman and he's telling her words in Urdu and she's responding in Bahasa Indonesia and he's speaking back in some mixture of English and Urdu. When cultures mix, language changes and deteriorates. You didn't have that phenomenon in pre-Islamic Arabia. They are isolated for the most part. When they go out at night, they just look at the stars because they’ve got nothing on earth to look at.

The upshot of this is that they became very imaginative people, and their language full of imagery and expressiveness. In fact, if you look into the etymology of the word “Arabic” عربي one of its meanings is to express yourself and all of your feelings in the most elaborate way. Arabic is a very expressive, rich and loaded language. The word عربة also meant a river that's overflowing. This is why they also used it for a guy who's got too much in his stomach and about to throw up; they use it for that too, why? When something is so rich, it's going to overflow. When you become a student of Arabic, one word in Arabic has so much meaning it's like a river gushing and overflowing, that's what it feels like. Allah made this language that way.

Here’s another remarkable thing about Arabic. ‘Umar (ra) said تعلموا العربية فإنها تزيد في العقل, “Learn Arabic because it enhances your ability to think.” That’s interesting, since ‘Umar was an Arab talking to Arabs; but during his rule, Islam was becoming internationalized, and Arabic was deteriorating already. When this happens, our ability to contemplate the richness of the words of Allah deteriorates. When Muslims took this duty seriously, Arabic became the language of the believers wherever they were. We didn't abandon the other languages, but rather the Persian kept Farsi and mastered Arabic; the Indians kept their local languages but mastered Arabic. Wherever Islam landed, Arabic went with it. So, Arabic was no longer the preserve of the Arabs. You consider the German language for the Germans, Urdu for the Indians… but the Arabic language is for the people of the Quran. It no longer belongs to an ethnicity. In fact, many of the most remarkable works on the grammar and rhetoric of the Arabic were written by non-Arabs, such as Sibawayh, Zamakhshari, Fakhruddin ar-Razi. The pivotal works in Tafseer that we lean on to understand the grammatical nuances of the Quran are non-Arabs, one after the other. And this is not to denigrate the Arabs, as those non-Arabs came to the Arabs and internalized it: وَآخَرِينَ مِنْهُمْ لَمَّا يَلْحَقُوا بِهِمْ in the spirit of “others of them that haven't yet joined them” (62:3).

By Nouman Ali Khan (read the full explanation here).

#quranreflect #muslims #islam #quran #ramadan

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kopimoss · 8 months

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🧵🐄🌱

🧵 - what is a recent creative project you are proud of?

well I've recently started journalling/scarpbooking again so that's a lot of fun!

🐄 - answered ! (Though I guess I could answer again and say @awingedllama 🥰)

🌱 - what is something you want to begin learning?

Ssooooo many things. I think most of all, more languages! I want to be fluent in te reo (Maori) eventually. And work on my Indonesian

#anon ask #ask game

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unfoldingmoments · 11 months

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The Tuttle Story: "Books to Span the East and West"

Many people are surprised to learn that the world's largest publisher of books on Asia had its humble beginnings in the tiny American state of Vermont. The company's founder, Charles E. Tuttle, belonged to a New England family steeped in publishing. Immediately after WW II, Tuttle served in Tokyo under General Douglas MacArthur and was tasked with reviving the Japanese publishing industry. He later founded the Charles E. Tuttle Publishing Company, which thrives today as one of the world's leading independent publishers. Though a westerner, Tuttle was hugely instrumental in bringing a knowledge of Japan and Asia to a world hungry for information about the East. By the time of his death in 1993, Tuttle had published over 6,000 books on Asian culture, history and art—a legacy honored by the Japanese emperor with the "Order of the Sacred Treasure," the highest tribute Japan can bestow upon a non-Japanese. “With a backlist of 1,500 titles, Tuttle Publishing is more active today than at any time in its past—inspired by Charles Tuttle's core mission to publish fine books to span the East and West and provide a greater understanding of each.”

Excerpt From: Yoel Hoffmann. “Japanese Death Poems: Written by Zen Monks and Haiku Poets on the Verge of Death.” Apple Books. Interesting Tuttle humble beginning story, yet the irony I had since 2007 still lingers, about the print is dead, publishing struggles in the new age of tech since Amazon Kindle. The News Media struggles to compete with all this digital platform. 2007 was the wake up call when the recession hits Australia, right after my graduation. Lots of publishing company collapsed and forcefully laid of its workers.

Last weekend I went over to BBW Big Bad Wolf book sales of the year, most of the visitors are book enthusiast obviously but the range of the book is not much, import book are leftovers, the Indonesian book are just not interesting enough. The only biggest range was the children section, selling along with the toys. This year some Indonesia bookstores has closed their offline stores (Book & Beyond, Gunung Agung end of this year) due to bankruptcy and big sales is the only time for book lovers to buy at bargain price. Only 3 bookstores has left in Jakarta alone (Kinokuniya, Periplus, Gramedia). I wonder what will be the fate of printed books and bookstores in the near future? Where book has its expired date when we don't know how to take care of them. Today just got a second hand book that has been yellowish and fungi mould from second hand book online store. Hope all the book out there has a second life. Burn after reading.

#tuttlepublishing #tuttle #book #bookpublishing #publisher

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brookstonalmanac · 11 months

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Holidays 5.20

Holidays

Be A Millionaire Day

Beating of the Bounds (Old England)

Behcet’s Disease Awareness Day

Blue Jeans Day

Botev Day (Bulgaria)

Clinical Trials Day

Day of Remembrance (Cambodia)

Discovery Day (Cayman Islands)

Doctor Day (Indonesia)

Eliza Doolittle Day

Emancipation Day (Florida)

Empire Day

European Maritime Day (EU)

Everybody Draw Mohammed Day

Fire Festival (Elder Scrolls)

501 Day

520 Day (Valentine’s Day; China)

Flower Day

Flying Solo Day

Frigga Blot (Slavic Pagan/Asatru)

Go Fly A Kite With the Kids Day

Hari Kebangkitan (Indonesian Awakening Day)

Hats for Headway Day

Indonesian Doctor Day (Indonesia)

International Clinical Trials Day

International Gator Day

International Heritage Breeds Day

International Human Resources Day

International Red Sneakers Day

Josephine Baker Day (NAACP)

Lafayette Day (Massachusetts)

Love Feast Under the Gospel Elm (Wicken, UK)

Mecklenburg Day (NC)

National Anger Day (Cambodia)

National Awakening Day (Indonesia)

National Band Director’s Day

National Day (Cameroon)

National Day of Hatred (Cambodia)

National Eli Day

National High Heels Day

National Jase Day

National Orderly Day

National Rescue Dog Day

National Rio Day

National River Cleanup Day

National Seal Product Day (Canada)

National Streaming Day

National SugarBee Apple Day

National Women in Aerospace Day

Norman Rockwell Day

Paw Day

Pick Strawberries Day

SI Redefinition Day

Stop the Bleed Day

T’veer Chong Kamhaeng (Day of Remembrance; Cambodia)

Unfortunate Day (Pagan) [26 of 57]

Weights and Measures Day

World Autoimmune Arthritis Day

World Bee Day

World Meteorology Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Alfalfa Day (French Republic)

Dark Lord Day (Three Floyds)

Food Revolution Day

International Sweet Tooth Day

Morel Mushroom Day

National Cold Pizza Day

National Quiche Lorraine Day

Pick Strawberries Day

Tap Water Day (California)

3rd Saturday in May

Armed Forces Day (US) [3rd Saturday]

Barricade Go Topless Day [3rd Saturday]

Culture Freedom Day [3rd Saturday]

Do Dah Day (Alabama) [3rd Saturday]

Europe Day (Ukraine) [3rd Saturday]

International Restaurant Day [3rd Saturday] (also Feb, Aug & Nov)

La Corsa del Ceri (Race of the Saints; Gubbio, Italy) [3rd Saturday]

National Drawing Day (Ireland) [3rd Saturday]

National Heritage Breeds Day [Saturday of 3rd Full Week]

National Italian Beef Day [3rd Saturday]

National Kids to Parks Day [3rd Saturday]

National Learn to Swim Day [3rd Saturday]

National River Cleanup Day [3rd Saturday]

Orval Day [3rd Saturday]

Plant a Lemon Tree Day [3rd Saturday]

Preakness Stakes [3rd Saturday]

Stationary Shop Saturday [3rd Saturday]

World Fiddle Day [Saturday closet to 19th]

World Whisky Day [3rd Saturday]

Independence Days

Cuba (from US, 1902)

East Timor; (from Indonesia, 2002)

Lopezia (Declared; 2017) [unrecognized]

Samizdat (a.k.a. State of Samizdat; Declared; 2019) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Abercius and Helena (Christian; Saint)

Alcuin of York (Christian; Saint)

Aurea of Ostia (Christian; Saint)

Austregisilus (Christian; Saint)

Baudilus (Christian; Saint)

Bernardino of Siena (a.k.a. Bernadine; Christian; Saint)

Edward II Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Ethelbert, King of the East Angles (Christian; Saint)

Fats Waller Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Feast of Mjollnir (Feast of Thor’s Hammer; Ancient Norse)

Find a New Fetish Day (a.k.a. Fetish Day; Pastafarian)

Firefighter Jackson (Muppetism)

Francis Cotes (Artology)

Frigga Blot (Pagan)

Grudie Rosnoe begins (Lavic Pagan/Asatru sacrifices to Rod for good harvests)

Henri-Edmond Cross (Artology)

Ives, An Honest Lawyer (Christian; Saint)

Ivo of Chartres (a.k.a. Yvo of Chartres; Christian; Saint)

Lucifer of Cagliari (Christian; Saint)

Media Ver II (Pagan)

Mjölnir (Old Germany; Celebration of Thor’s Hammer)

Sanctan (Christian; Saint)

Trajan (Positivist; Saint)

Visakh Bochwa Day (Buddha Day; Cambodia)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Lucky Day (Philippines) [31 of 71]

Very Unlucky Day (Grafton’s Manual of 1565) [28 of 60]

Premieres

The Abominable Snow Rabbit (WB LT Cartoon; 1961)

Balls, by Greg Nettles and Peter Golenbock (Sports Memoir; 1984)

Beatlemania (Musical Play; 1977)

Becoming Bond (Documentary Film; 2017)

Beverly Hills Cop II (Film; 1987)

The Color and the Shape, by the Foo Fighters (Album; 1997)

Day of the Dead, by Various Artists (Grateful Dead Anthology Album; 2016)

Even Cowgirls Get the Blues (Film; 1994)

Every Breath You Take, by the Police (Song; 1983)

Fourteen Hours (Film; 1951)

Godzilla (Film; 1998)

Harry’s House, by Harry Styles (Album; 2022)

His Bitter Half (WB MM Cartoon; 1950)

Lady Dynamite (TV Series; 2016)

Midnight in Paris (Film; 2011)

The Muppets’ Wizard of Oz (TV Movie; 2005)

Naughty But Mice (WB MM Cartoon; 1939)

The Nice Guys (Film; 2016)

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (Film; 2011)

Poodle Hat, by Weird Al Yankovic (Album; 2003)

The Quarto, Shakespeare’s Sonnets (Book of Poems; 1609)

Rock Around the Clock, by Bill Haley & His Comets (Song; 1954)

Russian Rhapsody (WB MM Cartoon; 1944)

The Scapegoat, by Daphne du Maurier (Novel; 1957)

The Scotswoman, by Inglis Clark Fletcher (Novel; 1955)

Unplugged (The Official Bootleg), by Paul McCartney (Album; 1991)

A Very English Scandal (Film; 2018)

Viva Las Vegas (Film; 1964) [Elvis Presley #15]

Willow (Film; 1988)

You Made Me Love You, recorded by Harry James (Song; 1941)

Today’s Name Days

Bernhardin, Elfriede, Mira (Austria)

Bernardin, Lidija, Zlata (Croatia)

Zbyšek (Czech Republic)

Angelica (Denmark)

Liili, Liilia, Lilian, Lilja, Lille, Lilli (Estonia)

Karoliina, Lila, Lilja, Lilli (Finland)

Bernardin (France)

Bernardino, Elfriede, Mira (Germany)

Lead, Lidia, Lydia (Greece)

Bernát, Felícia (Hungary)

Anastasio, Bernardino (Italy)

Prieca, Salvis, Sibilla, Venta (Latvia)

Akvilas, Alfreda, Eidvilas, Vygintė (Lithuania)

Bjørnar, Bjørnhild (Norway)

Anastazy, Asteriusz, Bazyli, Bazylid, Bazylis, Bernardyn, Bernardyna, Bronimir, Iwo, Sawa, Teodor, Wiktoria (Poland)

Lidia, Talaleu (România)

Varvara (Russia)

Bernard (Slovakia)

Baudilio, Bernardo, Orlando (Spain)

Carola, Karolina (Sweden)

Bernadette, Bernardina, Bernardine, Bernetta, Bernita (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 140 of 2024; 225 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 6 of week 20 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Huath (Hawthorn) [Day 7 of 28]

Chinese: Month 4 (Ding-Si), Day 2 (Wu-Yin)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 29 Iyar 5783

Islamic: 29 Shawwal 1444

J Cal: 19 Bīja; Fiveday [19 of 30]

Julian: 7 May 2023

Moon: 1%: Waxing Crescent

Positivist: 28 Caesar (5th Month) [Trajan]

Runic Half Month: Ing (Expansive Energy) [Day 11 of 15]

Season: Spring (Day 62 of 90)

Zodiac: Gemini (Day 31 of 31)

#Holidays

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