#it's a relic it cannot be changed

[anantaru]

why aren’t you changing your theme ever? /gen

stop

[arolesbianism]

Oh god the new cotl trailer is dragging me right back in... Damn you goat why must you relight my interest in this game so

[ahkeb]

,,rock on,,,,,:)

[wrr000]

"Small gestures"

The Destined One x reader - headcanons about communication +really short oneshot at the end

Notes: it's basically @szynkaaa idea!!!!!!!!!!!! go and check their blog NOW!!!!!!!!!!! i'm currently working on another headcanons with the destined one and more serious oneshot, hope y'all will enjoy this

Warnings: fluff, kinda fanon the destined one? english is not my first language so i will prob make some changes later! i also exaggerated the situation in oneshot for the fluff, forgive me

travelling with silent destined one was difficult, but soon you realized that sometimes gestures can express more than words

at first it was hard to communicate, this barrier seemed insurmountable to you

but you quickly noticed that he wasn't trying to push you away or left you behind because of it, no - he tired to show you with small gestures that he actually cared

it started with slowing down a little so you could catch up or glancing at you to make sure you were still walking next to him

gently poking you with his hand or tugging your clothes to get your attention

stretching his arm to prevent you from walking further and signaling you to hide behind him. he always made the same gesture then

finding you a safe spot to hide when he knew a tough fight was coming

when an enemy apeared unexpectedly and you were in the middle of the fight, he bought you some time to escape somewhere safe

grabbing you by forearm to make sure you didn't get hurt (you have to tell him several times that you're fine, boy is worried)

all these little things made you understand him more and at some point you learned how to read his body language, gestures and face expressions; scratching his ear when impatient or confused, characteristically touching his nose when he's thinking and all those kind of things

you just knew what he wanted to say (but couldn't)

during this time, you didn't even notice how much you were getting closer and how much you cared for each other

he never made you feel like a burden and you always tried to help him as much as you can

you could talk to him about anything and he would listen to you carefully, making sure you feel comfortable

the destined one never would have thought that he would meet someone like you(and fall in love) during his journey

of course it isn't a flawless relationship because it's still a cheeky monkey that cannot stand 5 seconds without getting into a fight, but it's a story for another time

---

Leaving that cursed land of rats was something you had been waiting for a long time. Almost from the moment you arrived there. Sandstorms were hard to survive, let alone the mad rat king and his two sons. However, you quickly missed the sandy landscapes, because the next stop was a land covered with ice.

Journey to the next Relic wasn't easy. The snow was falling heavily, limiting your vision. The horizon disappeared, you could only see The Destined One figure forcing his way through the high layer of snow. You felt that your shoes were already soaked along with the lower part of your clothes.

Even though you were following the path beaten by your companion, you were moving slowly. You sighed heavily at the thought that you probably still had a long way to go and you could only dream about a break. How nice it would be to sit by the fire and warm yourself. Suddenly various memories started coming back to haunt you here, in the middle of nowhere.

You were pulled out from your thoughts by the familiar warmth. You looked to your left and met his shining eyes, staring into your red face. The Destined One was standing next to you, wrapping his arm around you. A slight smile appeared on his face.

"Sorry", you said quietly. "I'm slowing us down"

But he just shook his head as if he wanted to say that you were talking nonsense. With a firm move, he pulled you closer to him. Your bodies touched even more, you felt a pleasant warmth radiating from him. His hot breath spread across your frozen place. Even know you could feel his unique, but nice scent.

He noticed your tiredness and how chilly you were. You had been shivering from the cold for a while now. He wished he had something to cover you with, but all he could offer was his arm. You appreciated his concern and looking out for you. That alone made you not feel so poorly anymore.

"Thank you, much better now", you said with a smile. "We can go"

He nodded, clealry pleased with the answer. You to were walking together now, hugging each other. The road didn't seem so hard anymore and the snow slowly stopped failing. The horizon became clearer, revealing hugh mountains and old temples. You finally felt like you had made progress. Previous difficulties became only unpleasant memories.

The closer you got, the more the weather was getting better. It was still snowing, but it wasn't even that cold anymore. And yet you still walked together, hugged to each other, neither of you thinking about pulling away. While admiring the views, you told him some old story from your childhood about a hard winter in your village. When you weren't looking, he was admiring you in silence, enjoying the moment.

[fairymousse]

Omg, been fighting DLC Final Boss for ages, and I think while the lore is kinda shaky, the themes are perfect.

Spoilers below

So, everyone has been talking about how little base game connection Radahn really has to Miquella, which is true. But thematically, it's excellent.

Radahn styles himself after the two Elden Lord's Godfrey and Radagon. We can see evidence of Godfrey being kind, like his tender moment with Morgott, but general consensus is that he is a warmonger and complicit in Marika's order. Radagon as well is idolised, with his red hair being a symbol of pride. Similarly, the Consort Radahn boss fight emulates both of the Elden Lord boss fights. Radahn is silent, like Radagon, and Miquella on his back greatly resembles Serosh on Godfrey's back. Radahn promising lordship to Miquella makes perfect sense, he's emulated Lords his entire life. The refusal to honour the vow probably came from his loyalty to the Golden Order, which is why Miquella planned to have him killed, then revived.

And like, Miquella calls us "lord of the old order", which is true, but as you think about, Miquella's order is drenched in relics of history. For all his promises, his age of compassion mirrors the Minor Erdtree incantation: the kindness of gold without order. He returns to the site of Original Sin, in the Land of The Erdtree's birth, with a lord at his side who emulates previous lords who enforced a previous order. He is recreating an old order, in the hope it will be different this time. Yes, it's built on blood, but it'll all be worth it this time.

Omg even Marika herself harboured doubts about her order, leading her to shatter it to make room for a better one. Miquella removes his own doubts, meaning his flawed order so similar to the previous one, would be eternal.

Miquella's dream of a gentle world is well intentioned. But his plan to get there feels uninterrogated. As does his choice of Lord. To me, I think Radahn promised Miquella when he was still a Fundamentalist, and Miquella clung to it long after his order changed. And how could Miquella change his mind? He cast aside his doubts. (See my post on St Trina for my thoughts about that).

Miquella is a tragic figure, both self-sacrificing and manipulative, in search of an ideal that he cannot meet. The ends couldn't justify the means, and his order could never come to pass, but the dream was pure and kind. It's brilliant.

I wish this was more explicit though. The gut reaction still is to be quite confused.

[hallowpen]

Episode Eleven has a lot to unpack... including some cultural nuances that even I wasn't too knowledgeable about (so I had to ask my mom for clarification)

We're heading to Chao Fah Palace (คุ้มเจ้าฟ้า) in the province of Phrae (แพร่) for this episode... which is derivative of the old Lanna Kingdom and its culture. (We spoke a little bit about Lanna traditions when referencing the hairpins in episode five). Lanna territories are now part of modern-day Siam. In Lanna tradition, women were known as ช้างเท้าหลัง (pronounced 'chang tao lahng') which would literally translate into "the hind legs of the elephant". What it meant was that the direction of a woman's life and family were to be guided by the authority of a man, ช้างเท้าหน้า (pronounced 'chang tao nahr') "the front legs of the elephant". The woman must learn to accept her place. Lanna Buddhist tradition would preach that being born as a woman in this life meant you had not earned enough merit to be born a man, and to pray for better karma in the next lifetime. Ironically, before the rise of Buddhism, Lanna was one of the few territories to practice matrilineal succession... where lineage was passed on from mother to daughter.

Both of these beliefs were somewhat knit together for TLP's narrative in regards to Uangfah... which we'll talk about later.

ผ้าซิ่นตีนจก (pronounced 'pa sin tin jok') is a traditional skirt worn by women in Lanna. The skirts are known to have elaborate borders with strips of precious metals woven together, with spun gold or silver threads, by using a traditional loom. This technique emphasizes the beauty and value of the weaving, as well as the social status of the person wearing the skirt. The garment was generally reserved for high-ranking members of society.

Another practice steeped in Lanna tradition, is the art of making ตุง (pronounced 'toong'). In the northern dialect, this refers to a type of flag used in Lanna art and Buddhist ceremonies. The flags, adorned with various patterns and designs, are used to mark the boundaries of sacred sites as a symbol of the pathway toward enlightenment.

The series highlighted the Phra That Cho Hae Temple (พระธาตุช่อแฮ), which has rich history as a spiritual center and the most sacred Buddhism site in Phrae. Its highlight is the brass wrapped pagoda that stands 33 meters tall, which enshrines holy relics of Lord Buddha.

The Peacock Feather Dance (รำฟ้อนหางนกยูง - pronounced 'ram faan haang nohk-yuung') is a cultural piece of entertainment that sees dancers move in a circle and change positions in order to imitate the movements and courtship "dance" of a peacock. The dancers wear traditional northern costumes while holding peacock feathers. Known for its striking appearance, the peacock holds deep cultural and religious significance in Thailand. It is often associated with the ideas of beauty, royalty, prosperity, and spiritual awakening.

We are introduced to Uangfah's mother this episode. Princess Dararai holds the title of หม่อมเจ้าหญิง (mom-jao ying or M.C.) for being married to a descendant of the king. Princess Dararai wishing for her daughter to remain close to her after marriage has inklings of matrilineal customs, where the husband would typically come to live with the wife's family... and not the other way around.

The suitor Princess Dararai has chosen for her daughter to marry is Lord Muang-Rahm. Muang-Rahm holds the tilte of หม่อมราชวงศ์ (mom rat-cha-wong or M.R.) as a child of one "commoner" parent, but whose ancestry can be traced back to the king.

Uangfah has accepted the fact the she must submit to her mother's wishes and marry a man she does not care for (he's truly terrible... lesbi-honest). It's a bittersweet moment where we realize the realities of a woman who cannot openly pursue the love of another woman, given the views of society.

The proceeding conversation Uangfah has with Muang-Rahm is subtlety indicative of Lanna women who were in charge in their own relationships. Uangfah quietly inserts her authority over their future courtship by informing Muang-Rahm of her intentions to not wed straight away AND by addressing him by his nickname in front of Pia. Given his behavior, Muang-Rahm knows he cannot say anything untoward in order to save face... such a fun scene.

SHE KNOWS!!! The facial expressions 😂😂😂... you have to laugh

Anil and Pin have become more reckless the more comfortable they have become in their relationship... and that spells trouble ahead.

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

[prev]

Pure Vanilla's nightmares have lessened, recently.

He knows that's because they've left the Faerie Kingdom far behind now, so Shadow Milk has no real reason to try and provoke him into setting him free anymore, but Pure Vanilla can't help but feel hopeful that it might be indicative of some real progress too.

After all, he's been having more and more dream talks with Shadow Milk recently, and most of them are fairly civil. It hasn't stopped the mockery or taunting entirely, but he has realised that once Shadow Milk has an interesting topic of conversation to entertain, he tends to be a little less antagonistic.

Dare he say it, their acquaintance as of late has almost been... nice. Which is why, perhaps, he had mustered the courage to try and pry beyond Shadow Milk's academic career.

"I found one of your old portraits, I think. It was quite damaged." Pure Vanilla says slowly, because he has spent an embarrassing amount of his spare time recently trying to track down any relics from Shadow Milk's past, to be able to prompt him with them. "...You looked rather different."

Today, the dreamscape takes the form of Pure Vanilla's personal chambers, albeit bathed in darkness that is broken up by the fragile light of the moon, filtering in through the tall windows. Pure Vanilla is sat in his familiar armchair, relaxed without his staff or hat on his person, and keeping his idle gaze on his conversation partner. Shadow Milk is floating by his bookshelves, walking his fingers along the spines of the books. His back is towards him, but his extra eyes blink lazily at Pure Vanilla in silent acknowledgement.

"Why does that matter?" Shadow Milk drawls, before letting out an overdramatic gasp. He kicks back, tilting until he hangs upside-down in the air as he clasps his hands to his chest like he is heartbroken, their gazes snapping together like magnets. "I never would have expected you, of all people, to care about appearances so much! Am I not pretty enough as I am, is that it?"

His laments could have gone on for much longer, but Pure Vanilla cut him off quickly, slightly exasperated. "No, no, that wasn't what I was saying, and you know that."

Shadow Milk stops his fake wailing immediately, eyes curved into mischievious crescents as he glances over at him, and Pure Vanilla sighs. "It's just... interesting, I suppose. You look like two completely different people – unless it really wasn't your portrait?"

Shadow Milk bobs his head from side to side as if he were physically turning the words over in his head, before a thin mean smile slices clean across his face. "People change, Vani! Shouldn't you know that already, knowing our dear Guardian?"

Pure Vanilla tenses in his seat, balling his hands into fists in his lap. "I told you not to talk about her, didn't I?" He mutters with a frown, reminded once again that a conversation with Shadow Milk can never be completely smooth.

"Did you? I must not have heard you." Shadow Milk hums, righting himself in a way that involves far too much limb contortion. He drifts over to the table Pure Vanilla is sitting at, leaning against the edge and casually sweeping the vase of white lilies there off the table with one arm, quick enough that Pure Vanilla can barely react.

The vase shatters with a crash, and the half-bloomed petals are ruined by the fall. Pure Vanilla jolts, aching at the sight and his voice falls out pitched. "Shadow Milk-!"

"It's only a dream, no need to get worked up over it." Shadow Milk replies, tone carrying an edge of annoyance, though Pure Vanilla isn't sure why. Shadow Milk perches on the edge of the table with one leg over the other, lounging as he props himself up with one hand, his expression odd.

Still, he is right. It is only a dream, and Pure Vanilla cannot let himself be affected so easily anyway. He hesitantly tears his gaze away from the broken vase, turning his attention back to his curiosity, which is easy to do with Shadow Milk's face now right in front of him.

Pure Vanilla occupies himself with comparing the face before him with the memory of that portrait, eyes carefully tracing every visible difference in the wavering moonlight. The way his face is framed is different, for one, with the loss of his monocle and the change in his icing, and it makes him look harsher. His colour is off, somehow, and his silhouette has twisted too. That once collected, near regal posture has been overtaken by the lax, twisting strangeness that Shadow Milk often moves with, but to say it is gone completely isn't true. The smooth line of his back, even lounging like this, holds the ghost of that perfect posture.

And his eyes—

"Your eyes are the same." Pure Vanilla doesn't even notice he has spoken aloud until the words have fallen out of his mouth, soft and light like feathers.

It is true, though. His eyes aren't exactly the same physically, the pupils having grown to slits, but the spark and sharpness of them are just like the ones captured in that portrait. If he focuses on them, Pure Vanilla can almost imagine that he is there before everything went wrong, sharing a moment with that brilliant, revered scholar.

He is so mesmerised by those eyes that he immediately notices the way they crinkle in the corners, glittering with thinly veiled amusement, just before Shadow Milk snickers. "I know my eyes are stunningly handsome, but you can talk to me while you get lost in them. There's nothing more boring than silence!"

Pure Vanilla blinks quickly in response, startled out of his dreamy contemplation. Instantly, he feels the heat of embarrassment begin to darken his cheeks, and he closes his eyes on instinct, ducking his head slightly. Shadow Milk's giggles coil around his shoulders, and to move on from his own bout of confusion, Pure Vanilla frantically tries to pin down a conversation topic.

"Never mind that. You always insist on maintaining conversations with me." Pure Vanilla comments, something like concern and the beginnings of anxiety heavy on his tongue. "I know your circumstance doesn't allow for socialisation, but can you not even talk to your friends?"

It's a risky question, and Pure Vanilla knows that, even before he asks it. He has done his best to steer clear of topics that are even remotely related to Shadow Milk's imprisonment so far, for fear of provoking him. But this question has been simmering in his mind for a while now, so it is the only one he could think of in his haste. He won't be able to learn more about him if he doesn't press further, anyway, and now is as good a time as any.

Pure Vanilla had expected a bit of a pause, the sort of charged silence he has grown to expect from Shadow Milk when he is faced with a question he actually wants to consider, so he is surprised by the near immediate response.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I can." Shadow Milk replies, sounding remarkably flippant about it.

Pure Vanilla takes a moment to try and find a way to word himself delicately, hands fidgeting where they rest in his lap. "...Well, you always act like I'm the only person you talk to regularly. I thought, perhaps, you're–"

Lonely, but Pure Vanilla cannot get the word past his teeth, biting down on it uncomfortably. He has a feeling saying that wouldn't be well-received, or at the very least, not taken seriously.

Shadow Milk seems to understand the implication anyway, scoffing. There's a scramble of movement, and that prompts Pure Vanilla to open his eyes again, finding that Shadow Milk has dropped down to lay across the table on his back.

"I can tell you what I am, I'm bored. Why do you think we're so desperate to get out, huh? It's because there's nothing to do!" Shadow Milk throws his arms up, gesturing wildly as his voice starts swinging and his expression pinches with building agitation, kicking his legs furiously over the edge of the table. For the first time, Pure Vanilla is stricken by how similar it looks to a Cake Wolf pacing a cage, driven to a frenzy by claustrophobia. "We can talk to each other, but do you have any idea how long we've been stuck in there? We've run out of topics years ago, and they don't entertain my debates in the right way anyhow. There's no fun in that!"

Without warning, Shadow Milk flies up into a sitting position, his form blurring and peeling at the edges. Pure Vanilla watches him with concern as he lets out a raspy huff, teetering on the edge of a laugh.

"But I like talking to you so I do. That's all there is to it." Shadow Milk declares, voice lilting to something sweeter. A crooked smile surfaces on his face, and he jerks forward in an unnatural manner, as if he were a puppet on strings. He cups Pure Vanilla's face in his hands who, having slowly adjusted to the fact that Shadow Milk is prone to impulsive physical contact, only flinches slightly at the suddenness. "Did that never occur to you, silly?"

Pure Vanilla's mouth opens and closes soundlessly, settling into an uncertain line. To hear Shadow Milk say that so frankly caught him off-guard, as he always does, torn between suspicion and that tempting optimism that has been slowly gathering in his heart. "Well, I wasn't–"

His voice crumbles in his throat as Shadow Milk pulls his face towards him and presses a scorching kiss to the four-point star on his forehead. The dreaded warmth returns to gather in his face, made obvious by the contrast between the flush and the cold press of his hands.

He shouldn't be so flustered - this isn't the closest they've been - but his embarrassment only makes it worse.

"Don't overthink everything, you'll turn your brain into charcoal. That would just be a pity." Shadow Milk teases against his forehead, his dozens of eyes winking with silent laughter as he pulls back, hands slipping from his face and—

—Pure Vanilla wakes up, frazzled and unsure. He stares at the ceiling, hesitantly pressing a hand to his forehead. His dough is buzzing.

He lays there for a while, confused by the warmth within him and considering the interaction once more. Shadow Milk said he enjoyed talking to him, and Pure Vanilla believes him, if only because he really does seem engaged with their conversations.

And if that's true, then maybe they really can resolve everything through words. For all his strangeness, Shadow Milk does seem to follow some sort of line of logic during their debates, and logic, regardless of what kind, has the chance to be reasoned with.

He thinks of sharp, painted eyes and countless conversations on studies, research, literature, philosophy. He thinks of claustrophobic madness and the endless hunger of the scholar and pity, pity, pity.

Pure Vanilla sighs, and for the first time in very long, he finds himself tempted to return to sleep.

[next]

[contemplatingoutlander]

“The hour is late for America. Beyond political success, her fate relies on exorcising the leftist specter dominating education, religion, and culture – a 360-degree holy war for the righteous cause of human freedom.”

--Pete Hegseth (2020) in American Crusade: Our fight to stay free.

In this detailed accounting of Hegseth's beliefs, Jason Wilson writing for The Guardian, implies that Hegseth seems to be primarily interested in "freedom" for far-right "Christians," since he seems to consider many others, especially those on the left to be "America’s internal enemies." Wilson also implies (based on comments by John Whitehouse from Media Matters) that Hegseth would be fine with using the military against anyone who protests Trump's neofascist policies--as long as that is okay with the "rightwing audience" that both Trump and Hegseth want to please.

Relying largely on Hegseth's 2020 book, American Crusade: Our fight to stay free, Wilson claimed the following:

MILITANT "NATIONAL DIVORCE":" Back in 2020, Hegseth indicated that he would be okay with a "national divorce" and/or "civil war" if the Democrats won the 2020 election, because he believed there were “irreconcilable differences between the Left and the Right in America leading to perpetual conflict that cannot be resolved through the political process.”

A "PRO-FREEDOM, PRO-CHRISTIAN, PRO-ISRAEL ARMY": However, Hegseth also believes that “If America is split, freedom will no longer have an army.” He believes that the American military is “the only powerful, pro-freedom, pro-Christian, pro-Israel army in the world.” If that happens, Hegseth believes ��Communist China will rise – and rule the globe. Europe will formally surrender. Islamists will get nuclear weapons and seek to wipe America and Israel off the map.”

THE ENEMY: On the other hand, if America isn't split, and the American military remains intact, Hegseth believes it will mean the defeat of “globalism”, “socialism”, "secularism”, “environmentalism”, “Islamism”, “genderism” and “leftism.”

INTIMIDATION TACTICS: Hegseth urges his readers to “mock, humiliate, intimidate, and crush our leftist opponents,” whom he feels are engaged in “sedition.” Here's an example of the intimidation he recommends: “When local businesses declare ‘gun free zones,’ remember the Second Amendment, carry your legally owned firearm, and dare them to tell you it’s not allowed.”

WORTHY OF "DISDAIN": Regarding "the media and 'almost all' politicians and credentialed experts" Hegseth tells his audience to “Disdain, despise, detest, distrust – pick your d-words. But all of this must lead to action.”

AGAINST DEMOCRACY: Hegseth does not believe in democracy, although he continues to claim to believe in the Constitution. Hegseth wrote: “For leftists, calls for ‘democracy’ represent a complete rejection of our system. Watch how often they use the word.” He goes on to say, “They hate America, so they hate the Constitution and want to quickly amass 51 percent of the votes to change it.”

GERRYMANDERING IS FINE: Hegseth is fine with gerrymandering. He writes: “Republican legislatures should draw congressional lines that advantage pro-freedom candidates – and screw Democrats.”

PRO-NATIONALISM: Hegseth is a nationalist, who wrote: “Our weapon is American nationalism.” He went on to say, “The Left has tried … to intimidate us into thinking that nationalism is a relic of a bygone era.”

BANNING WOMEN FROM COMBAT: Furthermore, Hegseth is opposed to women serving in combat.

PRO-PARDONING WAR CRIMINALS: In 2019, Hegseth successfully lobbied Trump, who "pardoned three service members who had been charged or convicted with alleged war crimes committed in Iraq and Afghanistan." [all color/emphasis added]

Finally, Wilson notes that

"John Whitehouse, news director at Media Matters for America (MMFA)... said that Hegseth has 'always given off a proto-fascist vibe'”, and that 'the thing that appealed to him was going into Iraq as a crusader, and when that went wrong he started looking at America through the same lens.'” [emphasis added]

Clearly Hegseth is a militant right-wing "Christian" nationalist, who was rightly tagged by the Army National Guard as being a potential threat to our nation. Hegseth certainly doesn't belong anywhere near the Department of Defense, much less in charge of it.

Wilson ends his article by using Hegseth's own words to show his affiliation with militant far-right "Christian" nationalists:

“See you on the battlefield. Together, with God’s help, we will save America. Deus vult!”

--Pete Hegseth (2020) in American Crusade: Our fight to stay free.

[lacesoflove]

hello! can you do a move-in day with hamzah? where he’s lifting and looking yummy moving stuff around and just getting settled into the new house?? Ok. Love u. thx. 🤗🤗🤗

NOW SHOWING: BREAKING THE BED! (request!)

Rating: fluffy + suggestive

Warning: AFAB!Reader, reader is described to have curls, but besides that no ethnic/racial has been provided!

A/N: I find it funny that as I was writing this I stumbled upon an OOC video where Hamzah said that he cannot afford to buy a house because he’s only 22 😭

W/C: 1.1k words

MOVING INTO A HOUSE WITH YOUR DREAM MAN WAS NOT IN YOUR CARDS. Falling in love with your dream person wasn’t on your cards either. Yet here you were, navigating the cluttered chaos of boxes, each one a Pandora's box revealing surprises that felt like the universe’s surreal joke on your life’s trajectory.

If you had told your ten-year-old self about something called a “credit check” just to secure a roof over your head, she would have frowned and asked, “What’s that?” Standing in the skeletal beginnings of your living room felt surreal, like a scene from a half-remembered dream. You and Hamzah had toiled like modern-day Sisyphuses, pushing the boulder uphill in an economy designed to turn homeowners into a relic of the past. And here you were, bearing the fruits of your labour, and it was dizzying to think you could finally eat them.

You took a laid-back approach to moving in, checking occasionally for the arrival of another truck or pacing through the house to affirm that this dream was indeed yours. Red and Blue were tucked away in the guest room, avoiding the chaos of change. Meanwhile, Hamzah was knee-deep in the intricate task of assembling your bed, his body hunched over the instruction manual like a treasure hunter deciphering hieroglyphs. This was the only piece of furniture spared from the convenience of Amazon’s next-day delivery—because sleeping on the floor wasn’t an option, and Hamzah had declared it “just not right.” You had no desire to argue that point; after all, you couldn’t imagine what hardwood floors would do to both your curls in the morning.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching him wrestle with the instruction sheet, his face a canvas of confusion painted with frustration. “Baby, how’s it going?” you called out, bouncing on your toes, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving him to fend for himself. “Not great,” he grumbled, forehead creased as his eyes darted across an endless loop of instructions that might as well have been written in ancient runes. “I think they shorted us on screws.”

“What? No way. Hand it over,” you insisted, stepping forward to snatch the manual from his hands. “No, there are enough screws; you just put them in the wrong part of the bed.” “But it says head of the bed,” he argued, his stubbornness as inflexible as the wood he was trying to piece together. You sighed, knowing that for all the reasons you adored Hamzah, his reading comprehension skills were not among them. “It says base of the bed. The head is a different section underneath. Your eyes must be skipping the important parts.”

“Probably,” he admitted, pulling himself up from the floor, stretching like a cat, muscles flexing under the strain. “Why don’t you just make the bed?”

“Because I’m the girl,” you shot back, a smug smile creeping onto your face as he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your lower back.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Shit like this brings the movement down; everyone’s a feminist until it’s bed-building time.”

You erupted into laughter, unable to contain yourself. “Did you seriously just quote Bo Burnham?”

“Sure did,” he replied, a grin lighting up his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mischief.

“You’re stupid,” you said, your heart swelling with affection.

“You’re hot,” he quipped, leaning in for a kiss that sent a spark through the air between you. It was only then that the creeping shadows caught your eye, the sun dipping behind the trees, casting elongated silhouettes that spread across your new room. “Shit, we’ll get to the kissing later—we should probably focus on making this bed.”

“Why? Got some plans for us on it?” he teased, tilting his head, curls falling in lazy cascades as he lowered his gaze to yours, his eyes glimmering with playful mischief.

“Yes, and those plans consist of my mandatory eight hours of sleep,” you replied, laughter bubbling up as you nudged him away playfully. “Let’s finish this bed.”

What was supposed to be a straightforward task devolved into a chaotic four-hour marathon of flipping through the instruction manual and squabbling over every little detail. You found yourself checking on Red and Blue and, perhaps most challengingly, fighting the urge to kiss your boyfriend senseless, especially when he adopted that commanding tone while explaining the simplest of instructions. The way his muscles flexed as he pieced everything together was a distraction you could hardly shake off, like trying to focus while standing in front of a volcano ready to erupt.

But eventually, you triumphed. “Well, we did it,” you declared, surveying the finished bed with a rush of accomplishment, the chaos of the day melting into a sense of belonging.

“I dunno?” he replied, the rhetorical lilt of his voice betraying the playful smirk that danced on his lips. He knew exactly what was simmering beneath the surface; your fidgety energy gave you away, your eyes glued to him as he had assembled the bed like a magician unveiling his greatest trick. “What’d you have in mind earlier?”

“Continuing our kiss, maybe? Something more… I dunno,” you said, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you mimicked his nonchalance, your tone dripping with playful defiance.

His body inched closer, an electric tension crackling in the air, and in one fluid motion, he scooped you up and plopped you onto the bed, laughter bubbling up between you like effervescent champagne. He leaned in, kissing the crook of your neck, and you giggled softly, the warmth of the moment enveloping you. It was sweet, a bubble of intimacy growing as you both leaned into the heat of the moment, getting hot and bothered in that perfect little world of your own.

And then it happened—the moment was ruptured by a creak, followed by a crack. Suddenly, all at once the bed collapsed in on itself, its stilts surrendering to the weight of your laughter and unexpected enthusiasm.

“What the hell?!” Hamzah exclaimed before you both burst of laughter mingling with the chaos as you stared at the tumbled remains of what was supposed to be your bed was underneath you both. “I can’t believe we broke the bed.” He grumbled, his voice a mix of irritation as well as amusement. Any traces of horniness had long dissipated due to the absurdity of the situation. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve done it.” You smirked. “True. But damn this has got to be a bad omen or some shit. Cock-blocking ass bed.” You couldn’t help but let out another laugh at that. “Look baby, nothing is a bad omen with you.” You whispered as you pulled his head towards you as you gave him a deep kiss. “I know, but I should probably leave a review on it or something you know?” “Or maybe, Hamzah, you should actually try to read instructions properly.”

“Maybe.” “I’m right.”

“You’re right.”

[kifkay]

class swapping winx and the specialists (+ trix)

currently brainrotting about an au where the girls are specialists and the boys are the magical ones.

specialist! Aisha:

the undisputed best fighter and leader

has a plasma weapon that can change forms — from a scimitar to a spear, from a spear to dual swords, etc.

is incredibly popular with the student body but could not be more unbothered by it

has ridden a dragon before (a rite of passage for all specialists), but prefers the company of the monsters of the deep ocean

specialist! Flora:

the pacifist <3

and is super jacked. as a treat. for me.

(just like in the og cartoon) Flora’s signature move is detaining/grappling her enemies, rather than explicitly harming them.

bolas is her weapon of choice:

but I can also see her using escrima sticks or a bo.

Saladin has a soft spot for Flora because she reminds him of Helia. He is also the one to introduce them to each other.

still as patient and kind with everyone as her og version, but more reserved/quiet. Flora is a bit of a mystery to her peers.

specialist! Stella:

the Red Fountain is THE nepo school of all time. all nobles worth their salt send their little trust fund cases there to get them a prestigious rank of a Specialist; no matter if their offsprings are actually suited for the lifestyle of a hero.

Stella’s parents enrolled her in RF in order to rehabilitate her image as an irresponsible party girl/failure of an heir to the Solari throne.

Stella retaliated by not giving a damn about her education — she even had to repeat a year due to her skipping practices.

her behavior began to improve once she was assigned to the Winx and became inspired by their heroism/courage/honor.

but it took the girls almost getting killed saving Stella’s ass on a mission, for her finally to start taking her training seriously.

her weapon of choice: a family relic — a sword.

Stella does become a proficient sword-fighter and a Specialist, being able to fend off a wyrm to save her father’s life (akin the scene where she gets her Enchantix in s3).

although controversy follows the blonde specialist, she earns sincere admiration of fellow Solarians for this act of heroism.

she chooses to pursue dragon-riding beyond the mandated RF course. the dragon that she bonds with is Synfire (wink wink).

specialist! Bloom:

in this AU, she is adopted by Hagen.

he teaches her the art of smithing magical weapons.

Bloom is less of a fighter and more of a tech/engineer. she creates magical artifacts/weapons for the girls, devises strategies and acts as their support.

she is also the healer of the group (or tries to be, this girl is still a clutz disaster)

Bloom is very idealistic, grown on legends foretold by Hagen and whatever remains of the Company of Light.

Bloom is probably equipped with top-notch weapons from head to toe, but always defaults to using whatever is laying around to defend herself. rusty pipes, bats, bricks, etc.

her dragon is a huge, scary and old thing everybody calls Fang. she calls him Kiko <3

specialist! Tecna:

loves to train in the simulation rooms.

actually a very good fighter: Tecna was taught her craft by the most rigorous Zenithian educational programs.

she mostly relies on her speed and agility in fighting.

her weapons of choice: tranquilliser guns and daggers.

devises strict exercise regiments for the rest of the girls.

Tecna stills handles any and all technology, but, unlike Timmy in the og cartoon, cannot stand being side-lined from battle.

a perfectionist.

specialist! Musa:

I see Musa as a ranged fighter, using guns & grenades & arrows.

she’s a wild card. high risk, high reward battle strategies are her bread and butter.

she also pursues dragon-riding. her dragon is nicknamed Pearl, a fast and furious creature.

a menace, honestly.

the boys:

Sky is a fairy of wind currents (since… y’know his name. but also because I like the irony of Sky having the ability to fly but yet feeling trapped and bound to his duties as a crown prince)

Riven is a witch of shadows/negative energy, like Darcy. he’s not evil though.

Brandon is a fairy of constructs. I picture his powers to be like the earth-benders from ATLA.

Timmy is the witch of technology.

Helia is a wizard, like his grandpops.

Nabu retains his powers but is a fairy instead of a warlock.

the Trix are fairies <3 they’re still evil, but in a whole different way: instead of revelling in their villainy, they are convinced of their own self-righteousness and purity of ideals. they try to usurp power of the Great Dragon because they believe they can make for better rulers, forgetting, of course, that would just make them dictators.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Order as Antagonist in TDP

So how about that trailer, eh? I was so excited I didn't notice this text up top on TDP's tweet for like. An hour.

We haven't heard anything about this Cosmic Order before. Is it a specific group? Is it a vibe? Is it a Startouch thing? Hard to say, yet. But there are some vibes from the Starscraper shots we've gotten in the trailer and teaser that may point us in the right direction:

This place has eight pillars, each with a recess that holds a relic staff seemingly identical to the one Viren's been toting around. It's not unique, and Aaravos didn't craft it. He stole it.

This is the Prometheus part of Aaravos' character. This is the fire that he stole for humans, from the gods. The relic staff. A relic staff, one of many.

Why did he, a godlike elf himself, feel the need to commit this act, for which he was cast down, exiled, and stripped of much of his power? Why?

Hard to say yet, but knowing all that he is capable of, I think it comes down to one thing: stealing it was the only way to get it. Nothing else he could think of would work. And he's pretty imaginative. But the system, the Cosmic Order, had him, too. He's a magic elf, bound by the same forces as everyone else up there. Breaking the rules was his only remaining option.

Aaravos chose Chaos over Order and put his money where his mouth is. He did get exiled and cast out, but humans have magic now. Somehow, that's not a thing the Order can take back from them, once it's out - rather like Pandora's Box.

But I want to look at this Order, and how pervasive it must be. How else would a powerful elf like Aaravos be reduced to petty thievery to accomplish his ends? Surely he tried other ways, other options, other persuasions. Why didn't they get him anywhere? Why did he have to take such a - for lack of a better term - human approach to the problem?

Let's back up a second and look at a seemingly random list of likes for one specific elf: Runaan. (no of course it isn't random, this is why this theory post exists. but shh, it'll make sense I promise)

Runaan likes four things in this list. Two of them are his immediate family. One is his favorite food. And the last item on the list?

Order.

I used to think this was just a bit of a wink to him being autistic-coded and liking his patterns. And I still do think that's accurate. But my third eye got pried open by the Cosmic Order text, and I think it's more than that now.

Runaan is a tiny cog in the grand engine that is the Cosmic Order. He goes where he is told, he kills who he is told to kill, he obeys without question, no matter how heinous his acts would be - he would have killed Ezran without blinking, because that's what the Dragon Queen told him to do.

Runaan is the most Moonshadow Moonshadow, according to the Deluxe Elf Interview. He's the epitome of what it means to be a Moonshadow elf. His devotion, sacrifice, and adherence to the rules are what makes him a good Moonshadow elf.

How convenient for the Order.

Runaan is still an individual, inside his own rules. He chose to become an assassin, and he did it to spare others from having to take lives and live with the weight of those acts. But that does imply that if he hadn't chosen this path, someone else would have, and people would still be dying.

And I think he's right. Maybe his love of order actually lets him perceive the great gears grinding over his head, up in the stars, turning the wheels of fate for everyone they control. Maybe he knows full well that he's part of a grand system - but there's nothing he can do about it except stay alive or die, because he is trapped inside it. He cannot change his fate because he is locked into it, just like everyone around him.

The Book 1 novelization tells us Runaan always expected to die on a mission, and that he meets that fate with a calm resignation on the balcony. He surrenders to his fate, because he cannot fight it.

What could lock Runaan into a fate that ends with him dying on a mission?

His own choices? Think bigger.

His society, then. Obligation, honor, guilt. Hmm, bigger than that.

It's been there the whole time - something that all the elves and dragons possess, but humans don't. Something which caused the imbalance in the first place.

Magic.

Magic is the Cosmic Order.

yes it has eight points and yes I'm back on my bullshit

Quick aside: The Cosmic Order is turning out to be the big magic version of King Harrow's Narrative of Strength, which he contrasted with the Narrative of Love - and we'll get back to that at the end of the post.

Alrighty, back to magic: The worst offenders seem to be the primal magics, which have locked the elves and dragons into very tight little boxes as far as what they can and cannot do, think, and imagine. An elf with a single arcanum can only think in terms of that primal source. It's as bad as an irl human who only knows one language, and so their brain literally cannot conceive of concepts that exist in other languages. (Learn more languages, guys, it's genuinely good for your brain, I am not kidding)

This helps explain why Aaravos was able to think a little bit outside his box and consider giving magic to humans when the Order said they didn't deserve any. He is an archmage, and he speaks many magical languages. He knows all six primal magics, as well as the ancient blood magic and dark magic. That's eight different ways of looking at a problem.

(is this why elves only have 8 fingers, because they literally cannot grasp anything outside of magic?)

From his multifaceted viewpoint, Aaravos can see the inherent unfairness in humans being forced to abide by the Order without getting any magic for their trouble. It's basically taxation without representation.

The Americans among us can attest to how well that went over in our own history.

Aaravos: Prometheus, Lucifer... Che Guevara... Guy Fawkes?

Aaravos really does love revolution.

Further thought: this post about Ethari's design has reminded me again about his lower-than-average magical ability and how that has manifested in his unique design and in his character. And I'm looking directly at how Ethari's lesser magic power may be the reason he's so mentally flexible. If he can challenge Runaan directly about how Rayla is not ready for that mission when everyone else is going along with it, isn't that lack of narrow-mindedness the thing that sets him apart?

What else might that freedom of thought do for him? Is this the reason he is actually able to invent at all? Because he is capable of envisioning that which does not yet exist? How rare that must be among Moonshadow elves!

tldr: Ethari is actually bad at being a Moonshadow elf, and that could very well be what saves him.

Contrast Ethari with Karim, who is a powerful Sunfire mage, and very much locked into his traditional views of elf vs human. He's willing to go to war in order to impose his views on all of the Sunfire elves if he can, because he genuinely believes he can see the Order of things better than anyone else can.

He believes in the superiority of the elven ways, while Janai has let her heart change her mind. Janai fell in love with a human, and it broke the Order's hold on her. She makes history now - it does not make her.

Side note: Is this... is this the formula, then? Is this how enduring ships work in TDP? An elf with a normal arcanum, paired with either a human or an elf with a "flawed" connection to the Order inside them? One who can anchor, and one who can imagine?

Let me make a quick list:

Claudia+Terry

Ethari+Runaan

Callum+Rayla

Amaya+Janai

Well. How bout that.

Ironically, this is a different path to what was going to be my final point in the first place: Order may be the default for elves and dragons and the way they are supposed to follow the rules of the universe, but love still exists, and they can always choose to embrace it. They can all be saved by love, in the end. It's their choice. In fact, choosing Love over Order is an act of defiance in itself.

Terry chose Claudia over fear. Janai chose Amaya over war. Rayla chose Callum over vengeance. And Runaan, my poster boy for stubbornness and suffering, chose Ethari over Order itself.

Saved by love.

[highland-gem-guardian]

Thinking of personal headcanons for the Eleven in my lore instead of sleeping, long post below:

Earthshaker:

Everyone knows that he is deep in grief over the seperation from his siblings. He keeps hidden a primal rage building up inside - he is enraged at his siblings and the divided world they've created, but he knows how devastating his wrath is - he blocked out the sun for centuries and plunged the world into darkness in a battle with Flamecaller. He lives in fear and shame of this anger- of himself - and regretfully chooses to withdraw from modern life to keep it from having the chance to emerge.

Despite his withdrawal from modern life, he needs constant attention. Travelling Dusthides made pilgrimage to visit him in ancient times with stories of heartwarming tales and the greatest feats from across the realm. In modern years, many dedicated Earth dragons across the realm have made it a Rockbreaker's tradition to visit The Pillar and stand by the destroyed relic as they tell it their own stories of love and hope, or leave written stories on biodegradable materials around the base. Earth dragons who cannot travel to visit the Pillar write their stories and bury it in the ground by a quiet dirt road - all roads lead home to Dragonhome.

He is growing amnesiac. He remembers his siblings by their elements through their children that inhabit Dragonhome, but their names are eroding away, their forms and faces a dark blur in his mind.

Flamecaller:

Her heart is breaking and it's slowly killing her. It shattered first when the Icewarden and his Gaolers almost brought the Banescales to extinction in an ancient war between the two deities. Now those ancient scars have opened for the civil war which is tearing apart her domain. She knows she could contact Earthshaker to confess this mutual feeling - but he nearly killed her, and for that she will never forgive.

She is extremely maternal, being protective of hatchlings and dragon eggs especially. It is believed having a Porphyry Flamecaller Statue watching over your nests (regardless of element) will ensure her eyes are watching over the nests and will keep them safe from all harm, and the hatchlings will grow up with a burning desire to live life to the fullest.

She is terrifying in battle. She descends onto the battlefield screaming like a banshee, her lava and flames enveloping the battlefield like the enclosing wings of a phoenix, much to her enemy's awe and horror. She is not one for sending pawns to die in her stead; she fights like a mother snapped into action upon seeing her child in danger.

Windsinger:

He frequently wonders what it's like to live as other beings. To lurk in muddy wetlands as a marsh stalker, or to gallop across the open plains as a centaur? He is endlessly fascinated with the thought of experiencing life through different perspectives.

For his hyperactive personality he is an incredible mediator. He can quickly establish a sense of authority that can silence even Stormcatcher and his shouty mouth. He is responsible for spearheading most of the Plaguebringer and Gladekeeper's truces.

He is possibly the only deity that the Shadowbinder has an inkling of respect for. No one's sure why, but it's speculated he may have saved her from becoming overwhelmed by the Shade. Or maybe it's just that they both have a mutual fondness of pranking their own children and fellow deities.

Tidelord:

He had actually been missing for quite some time before it was noticed that he was gone. His seers were used to him going quiet for several weeks to gather his strength, but it was the change in water temperature of the Shoredeep Presage that was the official sign that something was terribly wrong.

Building on the above point, the prophecies and visions experienced by the Tidelord can overwhelm him, mentally and physically. His body is very weak. It's possible he could have been driven to madness millenias ago had he not had his children to bear the burden with him.

In ancient times he commanded a flock of Omens - non-draconic shapeshifters often taking the form of seabirds. They are not storm seekers, for as well as heralding warnings of dangerous weather, Omens often brought to light informaton and revelations that could drive ship captains insane if their will wasn't strong enough. Most Omens have faded away as the Tidelord's children took on his burden of prophecy, though few still linger into the modern day. No one knows what they truly are and just how Tidelord came to command them. Killing an Omen is a sin with deadly consequences.

Stormcatcher:

He is one of two deities who actively participates in modern day-to-day life alongside his descendants, the other being the Plaguebringer. He travels to projects across his domain to get first-hand reports on their progress and to observe his workers with his own eyes - he is wary and distrustful of information being kept from him.

He likes destruction. Especially when he's personally overseeing failed projects being torn down; the sounds of crashing bricks, metal scraping against the ground, and the rumbling and beeping of heavy machinery is ASMR to his ears.

For his constant pursuit of modern technology, Stormcatcher is a fanboy for airships. He collects certified parts of famous ships, build-it-yourself figurines of model airships, photographs and videos of airship launches, there's even rumours he keeps giant hangars of retired airships that he's personally restored and preserved. Don't tell anyone, especially Windsinger!

I love this pathetic dragon man.

Icewarden:

His cold demeanor is a mask that hides a deep feeling deity underneath. He is blunt because he cares. He will hurt you with the truth because he wants to watch you grow into a stronger version of yourself from moving past it, rather than becoming soft and stagnant in a bittersweet lie. Sometimes he gets carried away with this emotionless state and it hurts his children, which hurts him once he snaps out of it.

He is an incredible hunter. Gaoler Seekers and game hunters alike pray for his keen eye and endless patience to guide them in their own hunts.

He has personally observed horrors beyond mortal comprehension. As a result, he is the only deity who completely understands the Arcanist's withdrawal from the world.

He hates the Flamecaller especially - because he sees himself in her, and what could become of him if he dares open up his emotions to the world. That, and a bitter war between them almost resulting in the extinction of the entire Icefield and Banescale race probably didn't help either of them.

Lightweaver:

She cares for the Arcanist. A lot. She just wants to invite him over to the Beacon to show him the sunrise over the endless horizon, or even visit the Observatory herself to skim through his libraries with him. She wants to be his friend given their shared hobbies. He keeps declining her offers though, to her dismay.

She dedicates herself and her Flight to preserving as much of history as possible so that one day dragonkind's descendants can learn from their ancestors mistakes. Yes, this includes the creation of Imperials and the ensuing Emperors, again to her dismay. She has to fight the urge in her mind "erase them from history... no one must know..."

She is a rather dismayed deity. She fights to keep up a bubbly and outgoing façade though, lest her biggest threat Shadowbinder discover these unpleasant feelings and exploit them.

She taps her claws on surfaces a lot out of habit. She also enjoys manicuring her claws and painting them with glitter.

Shadowbinder

Shadowbinder doesn't hate anyone. In fact, she just can't feel anything or develop bonds with anyone. Everything is just a tool she can manipulate to an end - dragons, fellow deities, worshipping beasts. To what end is something she keeps to herself.

She is a fantastic liar, and revered by fools and monarchs alike as the Queen of Liars. She can spin tales so tall it could make the Arcanist climb the Pillar again, believing that it was whole once more.

While the Lightweaver is her preferred target as her "natural opposite", she will pursue any of the other deities just as relentlessly. Windsinger is probably last on the list cause out of all of them, he could most easily out-sabotage her.

She is the most terrified of the Shade out of the Eleven. Any creature - dragons included - in her sight that shows even a small sign of being Shade-infected is killed instantly.

Plaguebringer:

She cackles like a fairytale witch as she stirs the Wyrmwound and you can't convince me otherwise.

She can be as maternal as Flamecaller, but only to her "children" who have proven to thrive in the Wasteland she's created. Anyone who can continuously survive in the Wasteland she considers her own and treats with a great deal of respect - no matter their element, origin, breed, age, beastkind etc. She personally interacts with these "super mutants", coming up with ways through contagion to make them even more powerful.

Out of the Two Sisters, she's the one who adheres to the natural order of life and death the most. She's appalled at Gladekeeper's vision for the world. Only stagnation awaits a world of never-ending life.

smely

Gladekeeper:

She speaks in a very sophisticated manner, and is generally very polite even to her "sister" Plaguebringer. She won't admit it but she does like hearing the sound of her own voice.

Her ultimate goal is to conquer death itself. An immortal world of never ending life in the form of her green blooms on every patch of ground, reaching towards the heavens and rooting deep into the soil below. Her fellow deities can join her or perish - deep down she sees them all as nothing but destructive warmongers anyway.

Beneath the sophisticated layers of leaves lies a feral deity who isn't afraid of fighting tooth and bloody claw for her beliefs. A battle between her and Flamecaller would be long lasting and terrifying to say the least.

She sprays herself with so much floral perfume - on top of the potent floral blooms covering her hide - that some Nature dragons have a saying "breathe in Gladekeeper's blooms every time [someone] does [thing].

The Arcanist:

He is the least socialised out of the Eleven. Mostly considering he grew up alone and had barely spoken a word to anyone until the Aethers were created. He has a noticeable speech impairment. Witness him with a pen, or on a typewriter or one of Lightning's fancy touchscreen interfaces, though, and he's a speedy techno-magician. Would definitely text/email over answering phone calls anyday.

He often forgets to nourish and clean himself and his quarters. He has trusted scholars who are tasked to remind him; he knows he can't avoid social interactions forever, and that it's in his best interest. A malnourished body would hinder his research after all. Several trusted Fae progenitors are dedicated to maintaining his records whilst keeping out of his way and spin web lairs in the nooks and crannies of his giant shelves. Scribbles - Tomo's scribe - has an ancestor from one of these clans. Awww.

The truth is, when he stood atop the Pillar and connected with the Shade, the two opposing forces experienced totality. He experienced possibilities - on a grander galactic scale than the prophecies seen by Tidelord. He briefly became one with eldritch creatures beyond the fabric of reality. He held ultimate power beyond comprehension, a force beyond creation and uncreation. He wants to understand what this force was, and what it's done to the Shade...and to him.

[chinesehanfu]

[Hanfu · 漢服]Time Clothes·Wu Zetian【时裳•武则天】·Early Tang Dynasty

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【Summary】

In this 180-second video, shows the fashion trend of Wu Zetian's life, the first fashion change led by women in China, from simplicity to luxury, from conservative to open, from restraint to freedom, this video is not only to show the beauty of Hanfu, but also to show A changing era in Tang Dynasty.

Wu Zetian(武则天), the only female emperor in China, experienced one of the fastest changing periods in the history of Chinese fashion in her life. As the woman who finally reached the top, she also had a huge leading influence on the trend of the Tang Dynasty at that time.

"Time Clothes·Wu Zetian", through the cultural relics and image reproductions of the same period in the collections of Luoyang Museum, Luoyang Archaeological Research Institute, and Yanshi Shangcheng Museum, sorts out the fashion development of Wu Zetian(武则天) throughout her life.

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【637-649 A.D.】武家有女 初入宫掖 In 637, when Wu Zetian was fourteen years old (November of the eleventh year of Zhenguan, because of her beauty, she was selected as the emperor's consort, and was named a fifth-rank "才人/Talented Lady". Emperor Taizong bestowed on her the title call"Wu Mei/武媚".

At that time, the clothing followed the Sui Dynasty system, which was conservative and frugal.Women in the early Tang Dynasty dressed conservatively, with higher necklines and skirts. Women need to wear "mili/幂离" (a kind of hat, surrounded by a circle of gauze that reaches the feet) to cover the whole body, so that passers-by cannot see the woman's face. During the Emperor Taizong period, frugality was advocated, and court women's clothing used less brocade, and only a small amount of brocade was used on the edge of the sleeves.Women wear a hairstyle called "panhuanji/盘桓髻", wear skirts up to the armpits, narrow sleeves and short shirts, and wear "bapojian skirts/八破间裙 (a skirt sewn with different colored fabrics)"

【651-664 A.D.】高宗即位 再入宫廷 When Emperor Taizong died in 649, his youngest son, Li Zhi, whose mother was the main wife Wende, succeeded him as Emperor Gaozong. Li Zhi had had an affair with Wu Zetian when Taizong was still alive.Taizong had 14 sons, including three by his beloved Empress Zhangsun (601–636), but none with Consort Wu.Thus, according to the custom by which consorts of deceased emperors who had not produced children were permanently confined to a monastic institution after the emperor's death, Wu was consigned to Ganye Temple (感業寺) with the expectation that she would serve as a Buddhist nun there for the remainder of her life. But Wu defied expectations and left the convent for an alternative life. After Taizong's death, Li Zhi came to visit her and, finding her more beautiful, intelligent, and intriguing than before, decided to bring her back as his own concubine.

During this period, the aesthetics of the Tang Dynasty began to change, from thin to tall and straight.The social atmosphere is gradually opening up, and women's skirts are moved down to the bust line.Wider cuffs and collars, tall half-up hair buns and various ring shape hairstyles are the most popular hairstyles.

【664-689 A.D.】天后掌权 二圣临朝

By early 650, Consort Wu was a concubine of Emperor Gaozong, and had the title Zhaoyi (昭儀) (the highest-ranking of the nine concubines in the second rank). She progressed rapidly, earning the title of huanghou (皇后) (empress consort, the highest rank and position a woman held in the empire), and gradually gained immeasurable influence and unprecedented authority over the empire's governance throughout Gaozong's reign. Over time, she came to control most major and key decisions made during Gaozong's reign, and presided over imperial gatherings.

Women's political status gradually improved with the power gained by Wu Zetian, and women's dress styles developed in a gorgeous, confident, and open direction.During this period, China's weaving technology developed rapidly, and various brocade patterns of "Da Ke Baohua Brocade/大窠宝华织锦" with larger sizes appeared and were more widely used in the palace.

【690-700A.D.】武皇登基 女性天下

In 690, Wu Zetian had Emperor Ruizong yield the throne to her and established the Zhou dynasty, with herself as the imperial ruler (皇帝).She allowing women to participate in politics, the image of women is moving towards the most confident, plump and calm era in ancient Chinese history.

The clothing materials of women in the upper class are becoming more and more extravagant, with half-sleeves/半袖 and magnificent brocade patterns on the Beizi/背子. A double spiral hairstyle, and the skirt is further moved down.

【700-705A.D.】称制十年 女性觉醒

In the late period of Wu Zetian's reign and even after she was forced to abdicate, many female politicians continued to lead the fashion of dressing, and more open and exaggerated dressing styles became popular.

The collar of the jacket is mainly turned into a cross-collar, and the short sleeves of the jacket are no longer tucked into the skirt, which greatly increases the exposure of the skin.Comb the hairstyle in the shape of "big knife" on the head call “大单刀髻”，ornately embroidered shawl,cross collar and half sleeve,top that covers the skirt

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📸Video： @扬眉剑舞

Model ：@荷里寒 

Plan：  @洛阳博物馆1958 & @扬眉剑舞 &@同程旅行官方微博​​

🔗Weibo：https://weibo.com/1879589532/NfEFEkRHY

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[lafaiette]

Look I wanted to have a good screaming match with Solas, telling him in short, military words where he can shove his redemption (alongside with inquisitors left hand) BUT I respected him, even understood to some extended and I wanted to save him. Seba wanted to make him 'a true villain of the story' no matter what ( that one memory about sacrificing ghost???) but that's a problem I have with most characters in TV - they lack depth the previous parts offered.

I would have had no problems with the game offering the chance to antagonize Solas in a respectful manner, yes! Players in Inquisition could find ways to respect his wisdom, but not like his manners; they could punch him when they believed him to be an insufferable ass; they could become great friends with him and genuinely enjoy his company; they could romance him. That is because he was written like a compelling, multifaceted character, and those are the ones that evoke the largest number of feelings and reactions in people: rage, disgust, interest, adoration, respect.

But in Veilguard he's simply introduced as the villain. Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan are terrible, yes, worse than him, and Rook and Strife admit this, but they are relics of an old age and they can be dealt it as one would deal with a very bothersome bug that has been suddenly set free. The game implies (without holding back) that Solas is clearly the real problem Rook will have to face at the end.

The corrupted elven gods are just a temporary threat; Solas is the true villain Rook must worry about, because, as everyone reminds them, he is the elven God of Lies and Trickery, so he's definitely planning a way to escape his prison and resume his ritual.

And to convince the players of this, they heap all the sins of the world on his shoulders. Not only the creation of the Veil - with Bellara lamenting the loss of the elves' true selves and culture, entirely blaming Solas and not realizing it was necessary to free the elves from their terrible existence; but also the Titans' severed dreams and the creation of the Blight - with Davrin and especially Harding being outraged by it; Varric's death and Solas' trick on Rook to make him believe he's still alive; his constant sacrifice of people, which was alluded to in Inquisition and Trespasser, but never to these extents and with Solas showing little to no remorse, even when he uses spirits to achieve his goals. Solas, sacrificing spirits without a second thought, when he literally breaks down and leaves Skyhold for a short time to recover from the grief of losing a spirit friend in Inquisition...?

It's clear as day that Weekes wanted to go back to the version of Solas he had written for The Masked Empire, that Fen'Harel who let an entire village get killed and spared only the children, that Fen'Harel who told a noble to kill the king's other daughter to see his beloved at the funeral again. But that was a Fen'Harel that made very little sense with the Solas we find in Inquisition - too cruel, too distant from the empathetic figure who tells a boy to abandon a senseless rebellion and return to his ailing parent.

Now, clearly free from the constraints the original lead writers and creative directors had for the series, Weekes went back to that cruel Fen'Harel persona, but this cannot be reconciled with the Solas we have in Inquisition anymore. And so we are left with a character that existed only in a book, who was changed into a kinder, more sympathetic figure, only to be reduced to a villainous figure once more because... well, because the new players would never be able to engage with him otherwise. How could they, since they never talked with him when he was simply a hedge mage obsessed with spirits and Fade? How could they, when all they ever hear about him is how distant, cold, and stuck in the past he was?

[hayanwulf]

Someone turns Stephen into a kitten, and Tony takes care of him.

Tony knelt and bent down to peek under the bed.

From the darkness, two large, blue eyes stared back at him, pupils blown wide in fear.

“Stephen..?”

The cat simply continued to stare intensely at him, giving no hints of acknowledgement.

“He cannot understand you,” Wong’s voice informed Tony as he straightened his back to look up at the sorcerer. “It was a simple but effective curse. Turning him into a young kitten rather than an adult cat forced his brain to fall back on instincts. While his mind and memories are preserved, he has lost self-awareness, so he would not understand his memories even if he’s capable of accessing them.”

Tony bent down a little again to look at the cat hiding under the bed. The cat hissed at him, perfect white canines sharply visible on a background of black. Stephen couldn’t even recognize him right now.

“And you can’t reverse it,” Tony stated more than asked, turning back to the other sorcerer.

Wong paused. “It might be possible,”he said. “But it is dangerous for me to do it.”

“You’re saying that it might not be dangerous for him to do it?” Tony asked pointedly.

“I am certain that he would be able to safely reverse it himself, if he was self-aware of his identity and his magic.”

And he wasn’t, if his wide-blown eyes and hisses under the breath were any indication. He couldn’t recognize any of them; not Tony, not Wong, not even Levi, who was floating in the background with droopy lapels, sad at the rejection by their Chosen. It had been quite the disaster when they had tried to wrap around Stephen and Stephen had flipped out, almost making some relic of thousand weeping souls fall off a shelf and break. Wong had firmly told them to stay far away from Stephen for the time being.

The way those blue eyes stared at them all, it felt like someone was twisting needles into Tony’s heart.

“Sweetcakes, come out please?” He gently spoke to Stephen, hoping to whatever magic gods were up there that Stephen could recognize something in Tony, or at least realize that Tony was not going to harm him.

Of course, the words meant nothing to a little, scared kitten’s mind.

“Look after him,” Wong said, moving to leave the room. “I will continue looking for another way.”

Tony wanted to go after him. Wanted to help look through books, research, speculate possible solutions. But..

He turned back to the bed, not quite bent down, just looking at Stephen’s general direction. His back was screaming from all the strain at this point; he was too old for this.

He didn’t know how to help. Of course he wanted to take care of Stephen. But Stephen.. Stephen was afraid of him. He was probably just afraid in general, a tiny kitten with not a clue about the world stuck in a room with a tall, intimidating creature. What was Tony supposed to do?

He leaned his back against the bed and made himself comfortable on the floor. He couldn’t see Stephen from here, but knew FRIDAY would inform him if anything changed.

His thumb, in an instinctive gesture, reached to stroke his wedding ring where it rested on his ring finger. He looked down at it. What had happened to Stephen’s ring in his transformation curse? He mentally made a note to ask Wong about it later.

“Stephen?” He spoke softly, letting his hand fall to the side. “I won’t hurt you, Cheesecakes. Don’t be scared of me.”

There was no answer. He wasn’t expecting one.

He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there, just reminiscing on memories, when FRIDAY spoke up.

“He’s moving, Boss.”

Tony went completely still, not wanting to startle Stephen by moving abruptly.

“Farther or closer?” He asked FRIDAY.

“He’s almost next to you.”

Tony sucked in a deep breath as his heart stuttered. Carefully, he craned his neck to a side and glanced down.

The black tip of a nose with white whiskers peeked out of the bed’s shadow, only a foot away from Tony. Very slowly, the small, black, fluffy body of a kitten stepped out.

God, he’s so small.

So small, in fact, that Tony was certain that he could wrap a hand around the kitten’s entire body.

Stephen still had a lot of mistrust and wariness in his eyes as he scanned his surroundings. Eventually, his eyes landed on Tony.

Tony stayed completely still, waiting patiently.

Stephen didn’t move either, staring intensely at Tony, no hint of recognition in his eyes.

For a solid second, Tony wondered if they were going to spend the entire rest of the day staring at each other, neither courageous enough to make a move.

But then, Stephen backed away — no, he stumbled back, for no conceivable reason, and sat down on his hind legs after quickly recovering.

It was at that moment Tony realized.

His hands.

Had his scars translated into his transformed body? Were his paws hurting? Was that the actual reason he was generally afraid of everything and nothing?

“FRI,” he spoke in a low voice as to not startle Stephen. “His hands? How are they?”

There was a moment of pause as FRIDAY took scans.

“His front paws are heavily damaged, Boss. They appear to be a direct translation of his hand injuries.”

Oh, Stephen.

He sighed softly. It had been hurting Stephen, hadn’t it?

Even on the best days, Stephen was terrible at expressing when he was in pain, or needed help. But now.. now he quite literally couldn’t express.

Tony’s heart ached.

He tried to carefully approach Stephen with a hand. The gesture, however, ticked Stephen off and he hissed at Tony, teeth bared, pressing his little body back against the nightstand.

Tony paused, looking painfully at the kitten.

He wanted to help so badly. He could ease the pain, give Stephen some relief. But it wouldn’t do if Stephen only got more scared of him.

“Hey, Sweetcakes, let me help you?” Tony asked him gently. “Please?”

Stephen did not respond, simply looking at Tony with narrow slit eyes, looking ready to bolt.

Tony risked it again and tried to slowly approach him with a hand.

Stephen hissed, pressed himself more against the nightstand, but did not claw at Tony. Tony doubted that he’d even be able to, with those paws.

Tony brought his hand closer, until it was inches apart from the kitten, and— yup, there was the claw. Stephen swiped at his hand with a claw, but it did barely more than scratch Tony’s skin. His claws weren’t even properly out.

He waited for a second his hand hovering near the kitten, and perhaps Stephen had not lost any of his intelligence because he quickly realized that he wasn’t going to be able to make a dent on his human and stopped.

It didn’t stop him from hissing at Tony, though.

Tony slowly reached around the side of the kitten’s face, and stroked a gentle finger over his head. The hisses continued on, but Stephen wasn’t fighting him either, so he took that as a positive sign.

It was a few minutes of just sitting in that awkward position, trying to calm the hissy kitten with slow, gentle strokes over his head, the side of his ears, his chin and neck. The hisses slowly toned down with time.

When Tony thought it was safe enough, he reached down for Stephen’s front paws. Tentatively, he took one between his fingers. It startled Stephen a little and he hissed, trying to pull his paw back. Tony let him pull it back.

He tried a second time, taking the paw between his fingers. Stephen gave him a low growl, though did not try to pull back. Tony brought his other hand close to Stephen as well, and took the paw between his two palms to trap heat there. Trying to massage kitten paws like he would Stephen’s human fingers would just not work, but heat had always been great at relieving his pain.

It seemed to be working, because when Tony tried to take Stephen’s other paw in his palms, the kitten didn’t resist. The hisses had completely died down, and the under-the-breath growls only grew fainter and fainter from there.

WIth time, Stephen’s body eased, letting go of the tension. At some point, he allowed Tony to take him in his lap. At some point after that, he fell asleep. And when Tony stopped ‘massaging’ his paws, he woke up and placed his little paw right back on Tony’s palm.

Tony laughed, a delighted sound. “Needy, are we?”

Stephen looked up at him with the expression of an innocent kitten. For a second Tony truly wondered if it was just the feline charm or if the asshole really was self-aware and all, and was playing Tony for free massages.

Not that Tony would have complained, had that been the case.

For now, he was just happy to see all traces of fear and wariness gone from those pretty, blue eyes.

He smiled when Stephen let out a faint purr in response to his heat-massage.

“I’ll give you a massage every day, if it keeps you happy.”

[huellitaa]

defining your life (literally) ୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

okay so i know you've heard this a billion times before but you are the creator of ur life. and one of the biggest parts of life is language and communication. the words you use and the phrases you say and the way you speak, to others and to urself, can have such a huge impact.

firstly think ab ur philosophies and guiding principles in your life. what do you live by? what do you believe in? what guides you in your everyday decisions? why do you do these things? what do you hope to achieve? before you can change anything about yourself, you first need to figure out what "yourself" IS. you can't change something if there's nothing to be changed, otherwise ur flogging a dead horse.

linking back to what i said previously, words have power. as i've said many times before, our realities and beliefs are unique to us as individuals, which therefore makes them easily malleable because we as humans are easily malleable. we define our realities, and our words are a very important component in that. like a precious relic or prized treasure, they each hold their own meanings and values to each and every one of us. which is why it's so important yet so overlooked to truly take a moment and just think about what ur saying and what it means to you.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 a few things you need to define before you go seeking:

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ peace

something many people seek, but not many actually find. you cannot search for something if you do not know what it is that you're searching for. what is peace? is it the short lived silence of an empty house, or feeling truly and utterly content with your life? is it fleeting, like any other emotion, or is it a permanent state of which you can maintain over time? what does it mean?

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ friends

who are the people you call your friends? who are the people you'd be proud to call your friends? are you proud of your current friends, if any? if none, what would they add to you? what are friends supposed to be like? are they supposed to embarrass you and put you down, or support you and make you smile and hype you up? is it genuine connection you're looking for and / or have, or is it short-lived attention from people who'll only hurt and leave you in the end?

✨𓂃 ࣪˖ happiness

is happiness the thrilling high of an irrational decision, or the long-term effect of maintaining ur health and becoming the person you always wanted to be? is happiness quick validation and dopamine hits, or is it the long lasting outcome of positive decisions and change in ur life? or is it just a feeling that comes and goes like any other? why is this the case? why do you believe this? how would you define happiness to another person?

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 a few things you need to define before you go giving:

💬𓂃 ࣪˖ love

how do u define love? romantic, platonic, familial, whatever u want. is it just a thrilling cycle of hurt, hurt, and more hurt, because that's all you've ever known, or is it learning to open ur heart no matter how scared you are to another person because despite ur fear, you have sincere and genuine trust in them that they care about you and the feeling is mutual? what would you define as love, truly?

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ energy

is energy the life force that keeps the world going around, or the burst of life you get after a cup of coffee or tea in the morning? does it hold every fibre of your being inside it, a radiance specifically unique to you? does it become drained after hanging out with the wrong people, or is it just a word you've never put much thought into rather than the sugar high after a sweet treat?

⭐𓂃 ࣪˖ kindness

what is kindness? it's such a simple thing, but is it the act of sincere sweetness towards you that you're looking for, or is it short-lived attention from people who aren't gonna be there at your deathbed and only exist to cause obstacles and issues in ur life? is it sacrificing yourself for the world around you, or is it finding a balance between kindness to yourself and kindness to others?

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 a few things you need to define for ur peace of mind:

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ family

do you believe family is solely a case of biological relation, or is it the emotional connection that's thicker than both blood and water? are the people you hang out with every day and love with your whole heart your family, or are the toxic mother and distant father your family? how do you define this?

🐇𓂃 ࣪˖ health

what is "healthy" to you? how would you define good health and bad health to another person, and for yourself, accustomed to your own personal needs and adjustments? do you want to be healthy? how does and/or would your life look if you were to work towards this?

🩷𓂃 ࣪˖ impossibility

what do you believe are the limits of your capabilities? are there any at all? are you happy with the limits you're placing on your life, or are they simply restraints placed on you by another? what do you believe you can do and why?

🫶🏼𓂃 ࣪˖ balance

a simple word, but one that our whole lives revolve around; or at least in my sense of the definition. how would you define balance? is it important? what in your life revolves around it? what does it mean?

all my love... 💬🎀🫶🏻💗