#african-inspired decor

[avant-greendecor]

Safari Chic: Embracing African Flair in Home Decor

Visit my website for more inspiration 🌿

Immerse yourself in the mesmerizing spirit of Africa as you infuse your home with an enchanting blend of culturally-inspired aesthetics and natural allure, creating a space that resonates with the essence of the continent.

[fyblackwomenart]

"Lady Double U " by The Fresh Canvas 

[strawberryspiced]

Good Morning Sunshines 🩵🌺⚘️🌿🩷

[yourdigitaldoodles]

Enhance your space with this stunning African Art Oil Painting Print, depicting a serene landscape with elegant African women walking by a riverside. This vintage-style digital artwork is perfect for adding warmth and culture to your home decor. 🌿✨

[nounoustouzy]

An African-Inspired Dance Figure - Posters with Wooden Frame

Bring your artwork to life on these posters made from high-quality photo paper (250gsm). These posters come with a pine wood frame for a natural look and come with a protective acrylic glass cover for long-lasting home decor. Their natural wood frame is available in black and white and you can choose between a satin or matte finish for your paper. Available in three sizes, and vertical orientations to best suit your art. Sawtooth hanging hardware included (except for the 11.7" x 8.3" size which has a small metal hole on the back instead).

- High-quality 250gsm photo paper in a satin or matte finish

- Pine wood frame with a protective acrylic glass cover

- Natural wood, black and white frame color options

- Three sizes

  8.3" x 11.7"

  11.7" x16.5"

  20" x 28"

[brone-hoult-1988]

Must Have African inspired Decor

[digitalagepulao]

Expedition Pilgrims

Sha Wujing (435cm): His outfit is mostly inspired by Mongolian clothes since he's found in the Gobi desert stretch of the journey. His bangles are made of fossil bone, and he can use the waist cloth as a headwrap during adverse weather. His markings are inspired by African Lungfish and Mudfish fins, as they are species that exist somewhere between water and dry air. The beasts on his knees are an extension of him, and he can see and speak through them as needed. His beard and long hair can have Ghibli physics depending on his mood and emotions. Zhu Wuneng (~300cm): Inspired by Northern Tibetan clothes, as that's the region the group recruits him. Traditional clothes tend to have way more accessories and golden details so I had to simplify a bit. His features are a mix of wild boars and Indonesian babirusa, with the iconic bristles on his head. I leaned on ceremonial Tibetan swords and necklace beads for the decorations on his rake. His vest can be closed, he just prefers not to most of the time. Sun Wukong (125cm): I've already commented on his design over here, but I'll elaborate that the yellow shirt is the one he gained from Tripitaka soon after he was released, while the pants and red half-robe were the garments he was given by Guan Yin. The hoops on his feet and purple beads were reacquired back in Huaguoshan when he first fled the pilgrimage, heading to his family instead of Ao Guang's palace. (A-ma and Jinju gave them to him so he'll always have something to home to remember them by, as well as where he first started, as the beads were gained during his lessons with Subodhi.) Tripitaka (163cm): This is but one of his many outfits since travel can be rough on clothes, and even more so when you get kidnapped by demons and thrown off your horse all the time. He wears the usual orange monk robes, with some kind of travel clothes over them. He gains some fur boots from Boquin for cold weather but usually prefers sandals most of the time. He seldom uses the cassock and crown he received from Guan Yin, save for when he pays respects to temples and holy sites, but the staff is a constant companion. Ao Lie (167cm, 130cm at the shoulder as horse): Being effectively in exile until the journey is complete, he wears less fancy clothes than he usually would as a prince, but his status still shows. I tried to balance more casual hanfu of the era with some armor parts, like the waist guard and armored boots. He was given the skill to shapeshift into a horse by Guan Yin when she commanded him to wait for the chosen pilgrim monk, so he can shift at will, but preferably when the tack has been taken off. Speaking of, tack is lost and replaced multiple times during the journey, so I didn't depict any specific one.

my Expedition AU designs and heights for the five lads, ive spent so much time on this its not even funny lololol but hey it's done!! i'm free!!

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"I've got a Big Chief, Big Chief, Big Chief of the Nation

The wild, wild creation

He won't bow down

Down on the ground

Oh how I love to hear him call Indian Red"

Voices of a Nation – "Indian Red"

The Backstreet Bar used to be the spot Celeste's parents went to when they were young and lively in the nineties and before they started pumping out kids left and right. Near the French Market off Esplanade in the sixth ward, it became a shrine and the iconic hub for rhythm and blues.

All things Black and New Orleans culture-wise sprang from that bar in their neighborhood. When the owner Etienne King passed away, his widow Lesli King took over. The levees broke in 2005 and nearly washed away the people and history that gave the city its culture and flavor. But the people persevered until Lesli passed during Mardi Gras of 2010. Celeste remembered 2010 well because it was the first year she started sewing with her granddaddy Big Chief Harris Profitt of the Wild Treme Mardi Gras Indians.

Thirteen and full of spitfire energy and overzealous gumption, Celeste spent all year beading and sewing using her granddaddy's jeweler's loupe magnifier over her right eye. The intricate beadwork and patches she sewed and assembled to make her first Indian suit was a proud moment, not only for Celeste, but for that side of her family who ran up and down the streets hunting down other tribes to battle in verbal dexterity and showing off how pretty they looked in their Mardi Gras finery.

Her suit was a patchwork of dark purple, lavender, and white micro beads, feathers, and sequins. She showed the fuck out among her kin and her relatives started calling her by the nickname Duchess because she strutted so high and mighty in front of granddaddy's house while the neighbors waited for their Big Chief to come outside on a fine Mardi Gras morning to represent their downtown neighborhood in his fabulous three-dimensional African-inspired suit. No one in Treme ever called her grandfather by his first name. It was always "Big Chief", "Chief", or "Chief Profitt".

Proud to be a Wild Treme Indian, Celeste sewed a new suit every year as was custom. It was expensive, time-consuming, and a true labor of love. Her grandmother had worked as a seamstress for a dress shop and her grandfather was a welder like his father before him, and she absorbed those technical skills of sewing and shaping metal under their tutelage to transform Black Mardi Gras Indian regalia into wearable art. Sadly, she lost interest in making suits by the time she hit twenty-four and began designing the fancy second line parasols, fans, and baskets for several social aid and pleasure clubs instead. That extra source of income helped carry her for over four years. Sometimes on annual Super Sundays she'd re-purpose some old suits to play in with other Mardi Gras Indian tribes that came from all over the city to commune and show off in A.L. Davis Park. It made Big Chief happy to see her on those occasions, although he wanted his youngest grandchild to sew new suits again.

The test of a true Indian was to pour your passion and creativity into needle and thread to kill 'em dead with a new suit annually. Tribes frowned on recycling an old suit and considered it lazy work to don a suit people already witnessed you in. People came out looking for craftsmanship, originality, and style—lagniappe—a little something extra each year. She poured her creative flair into the overly decorated accessories for other people and made a nice coin doing it.

After Lesli died, Grand-mère, along with a cadre of old-timers, lamented that the history of their hood would crumble if the Backstreet Bar died. Grand-mère had been one of dozens of foster-children Lesli looked after over the years, giving some jobs working at the neighborhood bar. Eventually, Grand-mère and Big Chief took over the property instead of retiring when Celeste turned eighteen. It was the bar Celeste headed toward for Mardi Gras Indian practice with her family and tribe.

She didn't want to drive through downtown, but she became the designated driver for three of her besties. Lyfts and Ubers raised their prices during the holiday season and no one wanted to pay outlandish fees when they could look cute in her brand new muscle car. Cruising through the Garden District, she picked up two of her friends and headed down to the French Quarter. They didn't have to stop for food because Grand-mère provided free red beans and rice, fried chicken, and sometimes boiled crawfish and red rice at the bar. She hoped they had a nice spread tonight because her stomach growled and she needed heavy food to soak up the liquor she planned to consume.

Her ex boyfriend committed a flagrant foul that weekend by jumping the gun and telling everyone they had broken up before she was ready. She suspected he wanted to bring out his new woman openly so no one would beat his behind once she blabbed that he'd been running around on her. Truth be told, she was tired of his boring ass anyway, but the general principal of the matter was she wanted to be the first to bail and get her lick back during carnival. Now if she turnt up and shook ass extra hard, people would say she was overcompensating for getting dumped.

"Duchess, turn right…slow down…there's a spot about to open up."

"Where?" Celeste said to her friend Mercy, who sat shotgun.

Mercy pointed to the flashing hazard lights of a taxi. Celeste zipped into the tight spot and breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing worse than searching for parking anywhere near the Quarter or within a one-mile radius in any direction during the carnival season. Mercy checked her smartphone.

"She's on her way out," Mercy said.

Celeste checked her face in the mirror. Although it was only a practice at the bar, she still wanted to look cute. Her giant Medusa locs were pulled back with a leather hair tie high on her head, and her eyeliner and ruby lip stick gave enough sexy unbothered vibes that made her feel confident. She had her girls, a stellar whip that she worked hard for, and time with her tribe to look forward to. Lately, it seemed like carnival festivities were the only way her family got together en mass. Carnival or funerals.

Their friend Joyce hustled out of a popular bakery in the Quarter carrying a box of the popular King Cake, a ring-shaped, hand-braided cinnamon infused dessert. The plastic covering on top showed off the tri-colored icing of gold, purple, and green.

"Hey, girl!" Celeste said as Joyce climbed in the back of the Charger. She gave air kisses to Nae Nae in the back.

"Whew! It's been crazy in there! Some people were mad they ran out of King Cakes that weren't pre-ordered. I am ready to cut up!" Joyce enthused.

Celeste checked her driver's side mirror and pulled out, heading around the narrow block. Clogged streets packed in the tourists, locals, and plenty of cops. She parked four blocks away from the Backstreet Bar and they all climbed out feeling giddy. Normally, Big Chief didn't allow outsiders or non-tribal members to attend Indian practice. But he made an exception that year to help her get over feelings about her ex. Freddie made being in Nawlins central intolerable. He knew everyone in her extended family because he was a police officer who had connections to a political family with high ambitions for him down the road. After their unceremonious break up, she moved into a cute little over-priced cottage far from him, and took an extra part-time job at a chicken processing plant with a goal of saving enough money to head out to California for an extended visit. Celeste had relatives in L.A. and could stay with them for a vacation. Getting away from the Big Easy would help build up a new positive lease on life. Or maybe she'd take a five-day cruise to Mexico. Anywhere was good, just as long as she could escape Freddie and go to a new world for a minute.

That man had wasted her time and love. She wanted to buy a large home and get married. Start a family. Months ago, she gave him an ultimatum that their relationship needed forward momentum and her finger needed a ring by New Year's Day. Cheating was his way of humbling her, and ironically, it brought her great relief. He made life feel stagnant and dull, proving unequivocally that he wasn't The One. She just didn't have the guts to leave first before having something lined up on the horizon.

A crowd of patrons gathered outside a corner in front of the Backstreet Bar, catching the pitiful breeze that attempted to blow through the escalating muggy heat while listening to the thumping music from inside. Celeste glanced at the exterior of the bar painted with colorful images of their tribe, Creole food, and two giant beer mugs clinking together. The name of the bar was graffiti painted above the front door that stood wide open. A "Closed Until 9 P.M." sign taped to the wall kept non-tribal members out for the time being, and a blank-faced bouncer, David, stood vigil on a metal stool.

"Hey David!" Celeste said.

"Duchess!"

David hopped off the stool and gave Celeste a big belly hug because his stomach lopped over his belt.

"I brought my friends to watch with Big Chief's permission. They won't be no trouble," she said.

David looked over the women, his beady eyes taking a liking to Joyce's plump frame.

"Alright now, go get y'all a plate before the good eatin' is all gone," David said to the group. His eyes stayed on Joyce the entire time.

Inside, the raucous shouts of men showered them with the energy of the packed bar and sucked them right into the fold. Family and tribal members were already cutting up, clapping and smacking tambourines in time to an internal beat that swelled throughout the room.

On a small stage across from the bar, a second line brass band made up of young men in their twenties carried the foundational rhythm the others followed. The musical frenzy, sweaty faces, and rocking bodies enveloped Celeste in the comforts of culture. Trumpets, a trombone, and a good faith tuba blasted the familiar jazzy sounds that New Orleans was famous for. Celeste rocked her shoulders, shuffled her feet with slick footwork, and sang the old-time Indian songs.

Joyce placed the King Cake on an open table near Grand-mère who stood regally watching the action. She hugged each one of them. Celeste eyed her father drumming on stage and glanced toward her mother, who mixed drinks at the bar.

It was good to be in the Treme.

She greeted familiar faces and asked "Who dat?" about folks she didn't recognize. Inundated with love and affection, Celeste settled in, bringing a playful zeal to her dancing. Her mother handed her a tambourine at the bar, and she hopped onto the dance floor behind her grandfather and tapped a churchy beat on her left palm. Onlookers who were guests ogled the rare treat of seeing a real deal Indian practice. Their tribe's Spy Boy, Darryl, waved a white handkerchief around, yelped in his warbled tone and pretended to see another tribe's approach. A play uncle named Man-Man started strutting as their Flag Boy and the boisterous sound of voices rose, singing louder than the percussive drum beats onstage. Celeste stayed close to her grandfather, listening for his calls to change the tempo at the drop of a dime.

The Big Chief's salt and a little less pepper hair sweated out into tight curls. His dark hickory brown face stayed bathed in a sheen of earned sweat. Eyes closed and listening for the spirit to arrive, Big Chief struck his tambourine once and hooted, his cries flying overhead and joined by a tribal call-and-response that bolstered his bringing down of the ancestors.

Celeste copied his tambourine strikes to aid in catching the spirit. In four days, the tribe would take to the streets, preening and daring another tribe to outshine them. Thankful for choosing to wear a white t-shirt tied at the waist and comfy jean shorts, Celeste danced, sang, shook her hips and felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders.

Three hours rocked by with chants, foot stomping, and plenty of drinking.

Twirling to her left to show off for her friends, she took some time to eat and gulp down a rum and coke standing in front of the stage. She caught the eye of a man lingering near her right side. Despite the many faces in the bar that blended into a chaotic blur during practice, the stranger's eyes latched onto hers and she couldn't shake them away. He was one of them pretty boys with captivating light eyes and possibly good hair that most people thought Creoles were supposed to have. Celeste's family was bone-Black Creole, the darker kind that still spoke southern, creolized French.

The man stood near some of her male cousins, and God forbid, a childhood friend named Travis X who was a five-percenter and a member of the Nation of Islam. It was impossible to miss Travis's short, high and tight fade and big shiny teeth. Still lurking in the shadows next to Travis, peeping at her moves, Mr. Light Eyes boldly stared right back at her like she was supposed to be sucked up on a plate of hot crawfish and dirty rice Grand-mère served.

Big Chief nudged Celeste to join in on the closing song. Lifting her contralto voice to support her energetic grandfather, she belted out the first opening cry of "Indian Red"

"Madi cu defio, en dans dey, end dans day…"

Their tribe repeated the words like a field holler with a tinge of the blues until everyone was on one accord. They belted out the song that represented the core of their tradition.

"We are the Indians, Indians, Indians of the nation

The wild, wild creation

We won't bow down

Down on the ground

Oh, how I love to hear them call Indian Red

I've got a Big Chief, Big Chief, Big Chief of the Nation

The wild, wild creation

He won't bow down

Down on the ground…"

Tears welled up in Celeste's eyes while singing with her grandfather. The power of the words enveloped her like a cozy patchwork quilt. Big Chief was getting to the age where he would have to pass the torch onto his oldest son. It was quite possibly his last time leading the tribe. His age was catching up to what his body couldn't carry as well anymore. The heavy tribal suits could weigh over eighty pounds or more. She wanted to dance in the streets with him one more time before a shift took place. She heard the trembling in his voice…they all did. Everyone in that packed bar knew they were witnessing the closure of an era under his leadership. Her uncle Alston would be a capable chief, but Big Chief Harris Proffit was the only chief she had known representing her people since she was a baby. He was eighty-two. Time to hand down the baton.

The last note hung in the air and Celeste broke away, grabbed her smokes from her purse, and headed outside to clear her head. Big Chief didn't need to witness her sadness. He wasn't dying, just nearing retirement. But it felt like a passing on anyway.

Back on the corner and away from David, who allowed regular patrons to come inside since practice was over, Celeste opened up a pack of Newports and tried lighting a cigarette. She flicked her lighter. It flashed and petered out. She huffed, and the cigarette dangled from her lips. A sign from God to quit, probably. A spark of another lighter glowed under her bottom lip.

Travis had followed her outside. So did the stranger and a few other men from Travis's Hotep crew.

"Sister Celeste, you know you should give up the devil's ways with this smoking," Travis said.

Celeste puffed to catch the flame, and Travis removed the lighter.

"Then why help me out?" she said.

She took a long drag and blew out away from his face and noticed a dark tattoo on the stranger's muscular right arm. An eight-pointed star floating above a crescent moon. Shit. Another Muslim. Last thing she wanted was to be lectured and recruited to be the next Betty Shabazz to a Malcolm X wanna-be. At least Travis wasn't slanging his bean pies or the Final Call at the bar. A real vibe killer. One thing the Nation had right by her was how they cleaned up Black men and turned them into fine specimens of manhood. She glanced at the tall, pretty boy with the hypnotic eyes. His plush lips looked so succulent for long, lusty kisses.

As-Salaam Alaikum, she muttered in her mind.

Her stomach fluttered at the grin on his face. Like he heard her thoughts. He turned to look at a few patrons entering the bar, and she glimpsed more ink on his left arm. A marine tattoo with black USMC lettering. An eagle sat on top of a globe underneath it, and Celeste looked away when he rested his gaze on her face again. Her cheeks warmed up like she was in a hot bath, and she parted her lips to take in more air. Feeling breathless, she jabbed her cigarette against the wall and tossed it in a garbage bin near the entrance.

"You ready, Duchess? They playing the down home blues in there and the old folks are taking over the dance floor," Nae Nae said with an annoyed stank face, joining Celeste outside with Joyce and Mercy.

Joyce handed her a paper plate with a piece of King Cake on it. Grateful for the distraction, Celeste took the plate and broke off a piece of the pastry. Stuffing it in her mouth, she chewed and Mr. Light Eyes pierced her soul with another drawn-out stare. She stuck two fingers in her mouth and pulled out a tiny brown plastic baby.

"Oop, you know what that means!" Joyce said.

Mr. Light Eyes seemed to float away with Travis and their male entourage down the street.

"I gotta bring the King Cake next year," Celeste said softly, holding the plastic baby in front of her lips, eyes still tracking the round, firm ass of the stranger in his jeans

The marine glanced back at her and smiled. She dropped her head forward, feeling lightheaded.

"You okay?" Joyce asked.

Celeste pocketed the plastic baby and linked arms with her friends.

"I'll go change inside and we'll be on our way! Let's get to clubbing!" Celeste said.

Chapter 3 HERE.

Masterlist.

Author's Note:

Hey y'all, the rest will drop on Halloween as promised! I had to set up my masterlist post now to make it easier when I upload the rest of the parts. Please share/reblog so we can get another Black fandom growing!

Tag List:

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

@slutsareteacherstoo

@nayaesworld

@notapradagurl17

@4pfsukuna

@yamst3rdamctrl

@sweettea-and-honeybutter

@comfortzonequeen

@theereina

@brattyfics

@prettyisasprettydoes1306

@megane96

@honeytoffee

@taurusqueen83

@mightbeher

@melaninpov

@carlakeks

@woahthatshitfat

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

[databoyreekoo]

The True Dandelion [theory thread]

!Find the original twitter thread HERE!

Theory aside, I think Strel and Ava are both really good potential candidates of the True Dandelion’s identity. But...

From the beginning, Nomura has been setting up a grand reveal regarding Riku and what he truly is. I believe he may be revealed to be the True Dandelion. We know Nomura loves symbolism, and that he’s really inspired by mythology. Riku is a prime example of that.

Riku is symbolically tied to the following;

Dawn

[The] Sun

Halos

Hearts

Yellow (as well as purple and blue)

Dawn represents;

triumph over darkness

rebirth, regeneration, creation

unconscious into consciousness (awakening...destati?)

illumination and enlightenment

the beginning of salvation

Dawn is associated with;

Aries, The Ram

white horses (especially a chariot pulled by winged horses)

Note for later: Dawn is also connected to lightning/thunderbolts, also known as the celestial fire, which is a symbol of Zeus (Jupiter’s bolts symbolize chance, destiny and providence, said to be forces that will mold the future).

The Sun represents;

life, energy, will, earth and heart

the promise of salvation

the direct son and heir of the god of heaven

the guiding light

The Sun is associated with;

Apollo, Helios, Baldr and Jesus (sun/light deities in general)

Sun-heroes (Hercules, Siegfried, Mithras, etc.)

royalty

Pride (capital sin - superbia...y'know, what's written on the black box)

gold and yellow

tripods and discs

Apollo is the Greek god of oracles, truth, prophecy, light and the sun.

Helios is the Greek god of and personification of the sun, he is also the guardian of oaths.

Baldr is the Norse god of light, purity and the sun.

Jesus, a figure of Christianity, believed to be the son of god and the messiah (a savior of a group of people).

Halos, also known as solar crowns, aureoles and nimbi/nimbuses, represent;

glory and virtue

supreme power and divine energy

spiritual light and solar powers

eternal life (for those who "conquer" themselves and remain steadfast under trial)

Another note for later: Halos denote holy or sacred figures, rulers, heroes and demigods. They are attributes of Zeus, Apollo, Helios, Dionysus, Sol, Jesus, the Virgin Mary and angels. In ancient Egypt, the solar crown was depicted as a disc framed by the horns of a ram or cow.

Heart represents;

love, love as the center of illumination, the center of being, will, understanding and truth

the sun

Bonus: Sankofa, an African word and symbol, represents the importance of learning from the past in order to build a better future.

Yellow represents;

dawn, sun, earth, sunlight, illumination

intuition, dissemination and benevolence

jealousy/envy, deceit, betrayal, secrecy, melancholia

Yet another note for later: Yellow is associated with Apollo and Leo, The Lion. It can also denote traitors and heretics.

Purple represents;

royalty, noble birth and sacerdotal power

pride, dignity, justice, truth, sorrow and love

Blue represents;

sanctification, time and space, revelation, eternity, devotion, the unveiling of truth, hope

I brought up the connection between dawn and thunderbolts, as well as Apollo, the sun and tripods. A sacrificial tripod actually appears in Olympus - realm and home of the gods - in kh3, decorated with suns and thunderbolts…it’s where Riku’s heart ends up.

Almost forgot to mention, tripods are a solar symbol associated with heaven. They were sometimes given as prizes… the three legs correspond to sunrise, midday and sunset; future, present and past, respectively.

I also brought up the connection between dawn, the ram (Aries) and Apollo…

The ram represents sacrifice and atonement, the opposite of what a scapegoat represents. End of Pain and No Name reflect this; similar, but in different ways.

The Dandelions were a group of exceptional wielders assembled by Ava, a task granted to her by the Master of Masters. The role of the Dandelions was to maintain the balance by collecting Lux (fragments of light).

With that in mind, the True Dandelion would need to have the same or similar qualities; exceptional abilities, an aversion or resistance to darkness, and a desire to maintain a balance.

Luxu describes the True Dandelion as a “seed of light to be sown into the future.” This light would need to guide the others as a beacon of hope.

Others have pointed out the similarities to when Ventus was wrapped in white cloth and the replica body delivered by Demyx.

However, the scene where Luxu places the True Dandelion in the pod reminded me of how Jesus is depicted as a baby; swaddled in white cloth and placed in a manger.

The Master is looking for wielders with strong hearts, able to trap the darkness without falling to it.

Riku is the only wielder out of the current Guardians that has this ability, which was brought up by YMX in khddd.

This ability of Riku’s was also brought up in coded. He was used as a shield to protect the journal data.

He also became a Dream Eater in order to protect Sora from nightmares.

This ability is framed as natural, instinctive, something second nature to Riku.

So many different symbols that connect to each other. There’s so much set up…both symbolically and throughout the games.

Regardless if he gets revealed to be the True Dandelion or not, Riku definitely isn’t human and is someone incredibly special.

Oh. And there’s a Jesus fish in the Book of Prophecies on the same page as a black crown (Oblivion or Kingdom Key; both connected to Riku).

ICTHUS

Iota - i - “Jesus”

Chi (χ) - ch - “anointed”

Theta - th - “of God”

Upsilon - u - “son”

Sigma - s - “savior”

“Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior”

[the-arcane-booty]

I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole of studying the real-life influences that went into the creation/worldbuilding of Nevarra.

For example: Antiva is based off of Italian and Mediterranean influences, Tevinter has Roman Empire vibes, and Orlais has a lot of commonalities with France.

I’m not saying that it these influences have to be 1:1, but I’m a huge anthropology/folklore nerd and it’s fun for my brain to dig deeper into stuff like this. It supports that fantasy is not just an escapist genre, but a method of deeper exploration of the world we already live in. More beneath the cut:

Nevarra is a tricky one. My initial inclinations were to lean toward ancient Egypt as its primary influence. Mostly their reverence for the dead is one that is very tangible. The mages work with corpses and cadavers, all while tending to tombs and cemeteries. A majority of Thedas deal with the concept of death in a spiritual manner, rather than a physical one, due to the nature of Andrastean beliefs.

The food culture is also described to be inspired by North African cuisine. Lots of flat breads, yogurts, and veggies are dominant in their dishes. It’s common for Nevarrans to be vegetarian. The landscape is also implied to be fertile with agriculture. Such connections are similar to that of societies along the Nile river. Beetles are also highly respected as a symbol. Like scarabs, people collect the wings and display them as decor.

While the Egyptian symbolism and archetypes surrounding death may play a big role in the cultural practices, there’s a few things that are also to Central European/Balkan culture. Like the concept of royalty/nobility more closely resembles the political structure of the Austrian empire. There’s mentions of dukes and duchesses being involved in cultural celebrations.

The artistry is also highly appreciated in Nevarran culture. There are so many artisans involved in making jewelry for grave dowries. There’s expert landscapers tending to beautiful memorial gardens. Sculptors that create magnificent statues to honor the stories of the dead. Nevarran art may seem morbid, but brings the subjects of darkness to light. This is a rather gothic approach to artistic expression and appreciation.

I like to think that Mourn Watch! Rook is artistically inclined as well. Even if it is in a way that is seen as dark or morbid.

ANYWAY I’ll probably ramble more about this later but I am interested in how the cultures mix to create a whole new world :3

[avant-greendecor]

Heritage Haven: Maghreb's Soul in a Living Room Dance

Visit my website for more inspiration 🌿

In the pulse of Maghreb's embrace, this living room sings with comfort and tradition, offering a cozy nook adorned with boho pillows, open mango wood doors framing an ancient mosque, and lush fan plants against ivory clay walls.

[cafetomedragongrimborn]

Here is my oc creation for the @goldenshrikecomic ! I was thinking about a southern savanna possibility for the world’s comic since I learned red deers lived in the north of Africa, and well I love african wild dogs so I ended up making a Stonekrovn variant ! Then I thought about adding antelopes to the mixt, but it didn’t really gave a satisfying result so I went with okapis instead (aka the cool horse giraffes).

I also made some other stuff for them (despite it not being accurate due to the fact that there is no mention of southern/hot lands) :

- habitat : savannas, oasis, rocky hills or mountains, plains (campsites are preferably in places surrounded by trees with decorations on them such as paints, clay, spider webs or strings also close enough to food for tribe members and halves)

- clothing (?) : bones, skulls, hides/pelts for cold nights, plants, paints, spider webs and collars

- inspiration (again) : red deer, african wild dog and okapi

- appearance : antlers can be black (very common), grey (very common), red, brown, yellow (rare) or white (rare), hooves can be black, grey, brown or pink (rare), eyes can be black (very common), grey (very common), brown (very common), red, orange, yellow or green (rare), the fur can be brown, red, beige or gold (rare) always with black spots and legs with white spots and stripes on the body. Males are the only ones to have a mane on the neck and little horns in front of their antlers, while females will have additional stripes on their backs, butt or tail (the position varies from one individual to another). The antlers are mostly supposed to look like a crown for the rhyme/ressemblance between krovn and crown.

- diet : omnivorous

- size : a bit smaller than a regular Stonekrovn but still quite big for a deer.

Here’s an example with a male (though not perfect) :

[strawberryspiced]

Orenda

[cliozaur]

Hauteville House. Part 1

I’ll start with the oriental motifs in the interior of Hauteville House. Hugo was one of the intellectual founders of orientalism: though he never travelled to the East, he held strong opinions about it and was never shy in sharing them. The entire house is a curious mixture of oriental and gothic elements. He had a particular love for low divans inspired by Muslim interiors—they’re everywhere. But the strongest sense of oriental influence is felt in the so-called Red and Blue Rooms, both designed as sitting rooms.

The Red Room evokes a theatre and was partly inspired by Hugo’s childhood in Spain, but it also features African figures and Asian ornaments. The Blue Room, on the other hand, is covered with damask and adorned with chinoiseries. Hugo and his son scoured shops on Guernsey and in England for various pieces of Chinese furniture. A beautiful set of blue and gold glass-bead embroideries, originally bought for his lover Juliette Drouet (who lived next door), adds a stunning touch to the room’s decor.

This mixture of oriental and gothic aesthetics is present throughout: a medieval mirror against Chinese wallpaper, and Chinese figures above the entrance of his eclectic Delft-style dining room.

A gift from Hugo’s close friend, Alexandre Dumas, a bronze scent burner.

My favourite orientally-inspired piece is the two wooden panels in Hugo’s private room. He personally carved a story of a knight and a dragon (reminiscent of St. George's legend) for his grandchildren. The dragon itself is very oriental—it was inspired by another piece of Chinese furniture on the ground floor of the house. He used to tell his grandchildren stories about the dragon, and then he carved and painted it. The panels feel strikingly modern, almost Art Nouveau. You can even see Hugo’s initials carved in the lower corner.

[nounoustouzy]

African Beauty Dancer - Posters with Wooden Frame

Bring your artwork to life on these posters made from high-quality photo paper (250gsm). These posters come with a pine wood frame for a natural look and come with a protective acrylic glass cover for long-lasting home decor. Their natural wood frame is available in black and white and you can choose between a satin or matte finish for your paper. Available in three sizes, and vertical orientations to best suit your art. Sawtooth hanging hardware included (except for the 11.7" x 8.3" size which has a small metal hole on the back instead).

- High-quality 250gsm photo paper in a satin or matte finish

- Pine wood frame with a protective acrylic glass cover

- Natural wood, black and white frame color options

- Three sizes

  8.3" x 11.7"

  11.7" x16.5"

  20" x 28"

[theminimalistpost]