#taa texts

[jude5bellingham]

imsg ౨ৎ trent alexander-arnold

[so-you-melted-22]

This year is so shit already, what do you mean Ahren isn’t a part of The Amity Affliction anymore?!?

[lexqa]

one thing about trent he will use at least one emoji for his captions

[kyrpavuori]

emt must tuntuu et se et olin leikkaukses enkä mm. pysty liikuttaa mun käsiä on enemmä työkykyä alentavaa ku transsukupuolisuus mut en oo lääkäri

[rrrauschen]

Ed Ackerman & Colin Morton, {1988} Primiti Too Taa

[j1ngi]

fiilis ku näät jonkun puhumas kui tuhma ja sneaky se on ku se juo alkoholii alaikäisenä ja oot sillee wow unohin et tumblris on 14 vuotiaita ja sit meet sen profiiliin ja näät et se on 20

[cemeteryofselves]

Endearingghosts -> notwithoutmyghosts

Had to change my handle and put it as The Amity Affliction’s new song title because it already means the world to me

[iamquiantrelle]

GOLDEN BOY ────── iamquaintrelle (☁️☔️💕)

⌗ pairing : trent alexander arnold x black oc

⌗ summary : trent is having a quarter life crisis but will a smart-mouthed girl whip him into shape?

⌗ warnings : 18+ only!!

⌗ taglist: @foreverisntenough, @trentswrld, @trentswhore @cinnaleaf @v6quewrlds @football-and-fanfics

The bass from Gunna's "P Power" was hitting different tonight, vibrating through the penthouse while Trent nursed what felt like his millionth shot at the bar. 2025 was around the corner and here he was, drowning his sorrows because another relationship went tits up. Brilliant.

Sophie had been the last one - all polished edges and old money, exactly what he thought he needed. Ended just like the others though. "You're trying too hard, Trent," she'd said, fixing her perfectly styled hair in the mirror. "It's exhausting watching you pretend to be something you're not."

Rich coming from someone who thought scouse accent meant uncultured. But maybe she had a point. These days, he barely recognized himself - trading his usual spots for posh London clubs, swapping FIFA nights with the lads for wine tastings. All because what? He was scared of being that kid from Liverpool forever?

He could practically see tomorrow's tabloid headlines swimming before his eyes. They'd have a field day with this one - another failed relationship to add to his growing list of "almost but not quite"s. Just like his career lately.

Jude wouldn't shut up about Madrid these days, his texts getting more insistent. "Different world out here, mate. No pressure of being the hometown hero." Arsenal was hovering too, Arteta promising him the keys to the kingdom. But Liverpool... fuck, Liverpool was home. Wasn't it?

Or maybe that was the problem. Twenty-six years old and still defining himself by a postcode. The gaffer kept saying he was born to wear that Liverpool red, but lately it felt more like a straightjacket than a second skin. Everyone wanted their piece of him - the local lad made good, the next Gerrard, the face of the academy. Sometimes he just wanted to be... Trent.

The scent hit him first - something posh and floral that made his head turn.

Dior... and something else... caramel?

"Spiced vanilla," came a voice that made him freeze mid-shot. When he turned, his breath caught in his throat. Her eyes met his, deep brown and mischievous, and the way she bit her full lower lip had his mind short-circuiting. The sparkly mini dress hugged every curve, her shoulder-length bob framing a face that screamed trouble with a capital T. "You said it aloud," she added, those burgundy-painted nails trailing along the bar counter.

Trent gulped, watching as her gaze raked over him like she was deciding which part to devour first. Christ. He wasn't ready for all that. She had 'complicated' written all over her, and he had enough complications in his life right now.

But something in his brain (definitely not the part doing the smart thinking) liked the way she was looking at him. When was the last time someone challenged him proper? Made him feel like more than just TAA, Liverpool's golden boy trying to figure out if he still fit in his own skin?

Madrid would be easier in some ways. Fresh start, no history weighing him down. Arsenal too - London living without the baggage of being a traitor to his hometown. But running away had never been his style, had it? Even if lately he'd been running from himself.

'Chicken,' a voice in his head taunted, sounding suspiciously like his younger self. 'Proper soft lad, aren't you?'

Bloody hell. Maybe he did need a bit of trouble in his life. Something real in all this fake. And the way she was looking at him...they were caught in some sort of impasse, neither willing to break eye contact first.

"April," she finally offered, extending her hand.

April Alexander-Arnold. Christ, his brain needed to shut up. He'd known her for all of thirty seconds and was already playing that game again. Always thinking too far ahead, weren't you, Trent?

When she spoke again, he caught something in her accent he couldn't quite place. British, but... not quite? Like someone had taken her accent and scrambled it with something else entirely.

"Trent," he replied, taking her hand. Her grip was firm, confident, and her toffee-colored skin was warm.

Her smile widened, all white teeth and knowing eyes. "I knew I heard correctly. Bit hard to miss a scouser in these parts."

He felt his defenses rising immediately - here we go again, another posh London lot ready to take the piss. But before he could retreat back into his shell, she laughed, warm and genuine.

"Relax! My dad's from Liverpool, born and raised in Toxteth. Mum's American though - hence the weird accent. Bit of a mess, really."

"Explains why you sound like you're from everywhere and nowhere," he found himself saying, relaxing despite himself.

"Oi! Better than sounding like I'm about to nick someone's hubcaps," she shot back, eyes dancing with mischief.

"That's proper cheeky, you know that?"

"You have no idea," she smirked, turning to sneakily grab a bottle from behind the bar. "Speaking of which, we can't just sit here being weird on New Year's Eve."

She started pouring tequila into his glass, and Trent immediately shook his head. "Nah, I hate tequila-"

"Take the fucking shot, Trent."

"No, honestly-"

Her eyes narrowed playfully as she enunciated each word: "Take. The. Fucking. Shot."

Jesus Christ. Everything about her was wild and refreshing and exactly what he'd been missing. No calculated moves, no carefully crafted persona. Just pure chaos in a sparkly mink dress, and his head was spinning with it. Where had she been all this time?

The crowd started chanting. "TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"

She clinked her glass against his, leaning in close enough that he could smell that spiced vanilla again. "Just FYI," she murmured with a Cheshire cat grin, "tequila makes me horny."

"SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!"

His brain short-circuited completely.

"FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE!"

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

April knocked back her shot without hesitation, while Trent stared at his glass, then at her, then back at his glass.

Who the actual fuck was this girl?

He downed the tequila in one go and placed the glass back onto the bar, groaning as the alcohol coursed through his bloodstream.

The first thing Trent registered was pain. His head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it, his mouth tasted like something had died in it, and there was this weird weight on his chest that-

His bleary eyes snapped open and met large yellow ones staring directly back at him.

"Fuck!" He yelped as sharp claws dug into his bare chest. An orange tabby cat was just... sitting there. Making itself at home. On him.

"Shoo," he tried weakly, waving his hand. The cat just blinked lazily and continued kneading his chest like it was making bloody biscuits. "Get off- ow, Jesus-"

"Pussy just trying to say hello."

April appeared in the doorway, hair slightly mussed, wrapped in a silk robe. She scooped up the cat like it was a baby, and Trent's hungover brain tried to process what he'd just heard.

"What you just say?"

"Pussy," she repeated, pressing a kiss to the cat's head. "Her name is Pussy."

Trent furrowed his eyebrows, slowly pushing himself up to lean against the headboard. "Like the one between your legs?"

April rolled her eyes. "No, like Pussy Galore. 007?"

His blank stare must have said it all.

"Not surprised that you never seen that movie."

He rubbed his temples with both hands, trying to will away the hangover. "More of a Daniel Craig type James Bond. The others were trash."

Finally, his brain caught up enough to actually look around. This definitely wasn't his place. And he was... he lifted the covers... in just his boxers. Shit. Did they-

"We didn't," April said, reading his mind. "Had a nice make out session though, but we both got liquor dick unfortunately."

"What?!"

"That's when you drank too much-"

"I know that but I never get... liquor dick."

"Well there's a first time for everything," she smirked, standing up from her perch on the edge of the bed. She bent to set Pussy Galore down, and Trent definitely didn't watch the robe gap slightly, revealing smooth skin underneath. When she straightened, she pulled the tie tighter. "You can't handle this, Trent."

"Whatever..." he scoffed. Who was she to tell him what he couldn't handle?

"I think you should see the damage I've already caused. And to think this was only from kissing. Hope you don't have a girlfriend. Poor thing might have a nervous breakdown."

She tilted her head toward his neck, and Trent's hand flew up to touch it. He scrambled off the bed to the mirror and... fucking hell. His neck, collarbone, and chest were a masterpiece of hickeys, bite marks, and lipstick stains.

Who the fuck was this girl?

Don't act like you don't love seeing the evidence, his traitorous brain whispered. Such a shame you can barely remember how they got there...

"Coffee or tea?" April called out, and his eyes snapped from the mirror to watch her arse as she sauntered out of the room.

"Coffee, thanks," he managed, still staring at the doorway long after she'd gone.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Making his way into the kitchen, Trent couldn't help but notice the photos lining the wall. One showed a white man in a crisp British Army uniform, his arm wrapped around a stunning Black woman - had to be April's parents. Had the same smile as her, her mum did. There was a graduation photo of April pulling a face while clutching her diploma, and next to it the actual degree in Arts, all properly framed. The flat itself was... interesting. Modern but lived in - art prints and photographs everywhere, books stacked on nearly every surface, a vintage record player in the corner surrounded by vinyls. Splashes of color against white walls, plants hanging from the ceiling. It felt chaotic but intentional, just like her.

Pussy Galore had claimed a chair next to him, watching his every move like he was about to commit a crime. Even the bloody cat had April's intensity.

"Here," April handed him coffee. "You look proper rough."

"This is why I don't do tequila," he groaned, taking a grateful sip.

"Whatever. You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?"

His phone buzzed from its spot near her entryway - someone had actually thought to plug it in. Tyler's name flashed on the screen: 'Oi where you at??'

"Should probably head out," he said, sending his brother a quick 'Tell you later'.

"Mmm," April hummed, disappearing down the hall. She returned with his clothes - cleaned and folded, of all things.

He opened his mouth for what would've been a proper clever comment about her washing his clothes, but she beat him to it.

"I don't wash no man's clothes. My cleaning person did all the work. Must've thought you were special."

"But I am right? You took me home with you," Trent said, feeling cocky.

"I took you home to use you, Trent. You and that stick between your legs. Although maybe I should get a refund." She glanced upward thoughtfully, like she was genuinely considering it, before shooting him that infuriating smile and taking a slow sip of her coffee.

Well that was fucking brutal... and the sick twisted part of him enjoyed it. A lot. Damn, am I a masochist?

"Are you gonna go or not?"

Trent cut his eyes to her, staring for a few beats. This fucking girl and her mouth!!

"You sure do say a lot of shit," he said, pulling on his clothes.

"So I've been told."

"Let me make it up to you. You know, for the... uh... liquor dick."

"Oh?" She arched an eyebrow. "And how exactly you planning to do that?"

"I could plan something nice."

"Yeah, whatever," she said, but there was a hint of a smile playing at her lips.

Fully dressed now, Trent stood there awkwardly. Usually, this was where a girl would kiss him goodbye or something, but April just walked to her front door and swung it open.

"Figured you needed some help since you were looking dumb as fuck."

He couldn't help but laugh. This fucking girl. "See you-"

SLAM. The door shut so fast it nearly took his nose clean off.

Trent stood there for a moment, an actual genuine smile spreading across his face. Couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled like this - not the media-trained one or the polite one for posh parties. But a real one.

The hallway of her building was all exposed brick and industrial lighting, probably one of those converted warehouse spaces in East London. Bit edgy, bit posh, completely her. His footsteps echoed off the concrete floors as he made his way to the lift, still grinning like an idiot. The doorman gave him a knowing look as he passed through the lobby - probably seen his fair share of morning-after exits.

As he stepped out onto the street, the January air hit his face like a slap, but even that couldn't shake his mood. She was refreshing in the most aggressive way possible - no pretense, no trying to impress him, just pure unfiltered chaos. And fuck him if he wasn't already addicted to it.

For the first time in ages, he felt... light. Something told him April wouldn't be impressed with the usual fancy restaurant routine.

This girl was going to be trouble. And for once, he was perfectly fine with that.

Trent's mind was still on April as he made his way back to the penthouse, barely registering the early morning London streets. Proper fumbled that one, didn't he? Didn't even get her number.

Fucking hell.

Maybe he could find her on Instagram later - though something told him she'd probably take the piss if she knew he'd gone searching. Probably post about some desperate footballer sliding in her DMs.

His phone buzzed with another text from Tyler: 'Meet at The Pig & Butcher? Got some business to chat. That new spot just outside London.'

'Sound. Give me 30.'

The valet brought his car round - thank fuck he'd had the sense to leave it here last night - and he headed out to meet his brother. His mind kept replaying that swift door slam, the way she'd looked at him like he was both a snack and something stuck to her shoe. Who even was this girl? Making him feel like some teenager with his first crush instead of... well, who he was supposed to be.

The drive gave him time to think about last night - what he could remember of it anyway. That first moment at the bar, her challenging him with every word, those hickeys he could still feel on his neck. Shit, he'd have to wear a high collar to training.

Tyler was already at their table when he walked in, and they did their usual dap. "You look rough," his brother grinned.

"Fuck off," Trent laughed, sliding into his seat and grabbing a menu he didn't really need to look at. His brother probably already ordered his usual.

"Nah but what's with that stupid grin though?"

"What grin?"

"That one right there. Looks proper daft."

Trent tried to school his features but failed miserably. "Just met someone innit. Proper baddie. Mad personality too."

"Yeah?" Tyler raised an eyebrow as their food arrived. "Must be something special to have you looking this gassed."

"She's different. Not trying to impress or nothing. Actually," Trent laughed, cutting into his eggs, "pretty sure she thinks I'm a bit of a dickhead. Called me out on everything - my accent, my game, my image, everything."

"And you're smiling about that?"

"Mad, innit?"

"Speaking of image," Tyler segued smoothly, stirring his coffee, "you know how we were chatting about revamping your social presence? Making it more mature? Less academy grad, more grown man?"

"Yeah..."

"Got this photographer, does amazing work with athletes. Proper artistic stuff. Some nude shots too-"

"What the actual fuck, Ty?"

"Nah hear me out!" Tyler pulled out his phone, starting to swipe through photos. "Look - OBJ did a shoot, Ja'Marr Chase too. Even got some Premier League boys lined up. It's all tasteful, builds that grown and sexy image we were talking about. None of that typical footballer pose with a watch shit."

Trent had to admit the photos were sick. Black and white shots that looked more art gallery than Instagram flex. Athletes looking powerful but vulnerable at the same time. "Who's the photographer then?"

"Her name's April Goodplenty-"

Trent nearly choked on his eggs. "What?"

Tyler turned his phone around, showing a professional headshot, and fuck him if it wasn't her. April from last night, looking proper professional but with that same hint of mischief in her eyes. Same full lips that had left those marks all over his chest, but now curved in a sophisticated smile instead of that devilish smirk.

"Shit," he said out loud, while his brain helpfully supplied: Well, at least you don't have to do that Insta deep dive now.

"You good?" Tyler asked, looking concerned. "Thought you'd be more excited about this. She's the best in the game right now, everyone wants to work with her-"

"Nah yeah, it's just..." Trent took a long sip of water, trying to process this new information. April. The April Goodplenty. The girl who'd basically called him useless and slammed a door in his face was the same one his brother wanted him to strip down for?

Life was having a proper laugh at his expense, wasn't it?​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

……..tbd

[lilirari]

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⊹ ( ⚽ ) . . . FAKE TEXTS ⁴ !

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ꩜⋆ yeah, marcus, you look like national geographic. i love making these fake texts for taa & jack sm the silly texts are so perfect for them 😭 also i feel like balde's can work both ways tbh. he'd just " nah " you if you ever told him you were breaking up with him.

© LILIRARI, 2023 ★

[jude5bellingham]

imsg ౨ৎ trent alexander-arnold

[so-you-melted-22]

The new Amity album is so good!!!!

[tmrwds]

Kot Kot lyrics + English translation

Mayday Hukun tähän kuplivaan Muut meni minä jäin kuppilaan Täällä mä oon Mä ja Celine Dion Fiksut on lähteny nukkumaan Mut on tuomittu juhlimaan Täällä mä oon

En haluu tanssia hitait haluun jatkot-kot-kot Pliis munikaa ne jatkot-kot-kot Missä hitos mun ukot-kot-kot

Rupee pot-pot-potuttaa Pelottaa ettei jatkopläänit ehkä osukaa Kuumottaa tosissaan, osoite ois saatava Ku poket tos jo hoputtaa Siis vastatkaa ny, saatana! (Numeroon ei juuri nyt saada yhteyttä) Perhana! Miten nii ei tänäänkää oo kellää aikaa hengata Pilkku lyö ku liekit vasten yksinäisen kasvoja Tää klubi on yht tyhjä ku sen katsoja

Mayday Hukun tähän kuplivaan Muut meni minä jäin kuppilaan Täällä mä oon Mä ja Celine Dion Fiksut on lähteny nukkumaan Mut on tuomittu juhlimaan Täällä mä oon

En haluu tanssia hitait haluun jatkot-kot-kot Pliis munikaa ne jatkot-kot-kot Missä hitos mun ukot-kot-kot

En haluu ko-ko-kotiin Kuinka siit on niin vaikee ottaa koppii Ne nokkii, naputtaa Sanoo ala laputtaan ja koittaa ulos taluttaa Taas tartun kapulaan (The number you have dialed cannot be reached) Perhana! Koton ei oo ketään eikä ketään kelle tekstata Pilkku lyö ku liekit vasten yksinäisen kasvoja Tää klubi on yht tyhjä ku sen katsoja

Mayday Hukun tähän kuplivaan Muut meni minä jäin kuppilaan Täällä mä oon Mä ja Celine Dion Fiksut on lähteny nukkumaan Mut on tuomittu juhlimaan Täällä mä oon Mä ja Celine Dion

Kot kot kot kot Täällä mä oon Mä ja Celine Dion Kot kot kot kot Täällä mä oon

En haluu tanssia hitait haluun-

--

English:

Mayday I'm drowning in this sparkling The others are gone I stayed in this bar Here I am Me and Celine Dion Smart ones have left to sleep I'm doomed to party Here I am

I don't want to slow dance I want the afterparty Please lay that afterparty Where the hell are my dudes

I'm getting pissed off Scared that the afterparty plans won't work out Truly anxious, need to get an address As the bouncers are rushing me So pick up now, saatana! (The number cannot be reached right now) Perhana! How come nobody has time to hangout today either The last call hits like flames against the lonely one's face This club is as empty as its viewer

Mayday I'm drowning in this sparkling The others are gone I stayed in this bar Here I am Me and Celine Dion Smart ones have left to sleep I'm doomed to party Here I am

I don't want to slow dance I want the afterparty Please lay that afterparty Where the hell are my dudes

I don't want to go home How hard can it be to take that task? They're pecking, knocking Saying get away from here and try to lead me out I grab the phone again (The number you have dialed cannot be reached) Perhana! At home there's nobody and there's nobody to text to The last call hits like flames against the lonely one's face This club is as empty as its viewer

Mayday I'm drowning in this sparkling The others are gone I stayed in this bar Here I am Me and Celine Dion Smart ones have left to sleep I'm doomed to party Here I am Me and Celine Dion

Kot kot kot kot kot Here I am Me and Celine Dion Kot kot kot kot kot Here I am

I don't want to slow dance I want the-

Credits to: @ravensofskyhold and Helmi for translation help!

[formulakatya]

BLESSING IN DISGUISE | TAA

"maybe it's a blessing in disguise, i see my reflection in your eyes"

summary: where you and trent are childhood friends, you find yourself in a difficult situation, clueless on what to do, you call trent for advice.

pairing: trent alexander-arnold × freestyle skier!reader

notes: i'm back! i've been out of ideas recently but on a whim, i decided to write a story to the first audio i get on my tiktok for you page which just so happened to be reflections by the neighbourhood :) this is unedited work and a rather short story so im sorry about that!

warnings: none that i can think of, just really bad writing.

—

holding your skies tightly, you waited nervously for the score. you had given your final run your all, landing the prestigious and tricky 1620 jump. “come on,” you mumbled underneath your breath. your heart pounding, you held your breath as you glanced at the score board nervously.

93.50

you could’ve swore you felt your heart break right there and then. falling down onto the snow, you looked down at the ground as you tried to compose yourself together, desperately trying to hold back the tears threatening to flow.

it wasn’t enough.

composing yourself, you stood back up as you tried your best to smile as you congratulated the winner before walking towards your coach who engulfed you in a hug. “it wasn’t good enough,” you spoke through shaky breaths, tears spilling out.

“you tried your best,” he spoke on his attempt to comfort you. “at least you landed the 1620, first time in competition!”

“yeah,” you nodded before going back to the other two medalists, shaking hands with them as you posed for a picture.

“well done on that 1620!”

“thanks,” you smiled at eileen, your training partner and also the skier who had came in third. “well done on yours as well.”

“wanna go out for dinner later?”

“sure,” you nodded, trying to think about what you would do at dinner and during the few days extra you had in austria in a pathetic attempt to cheer yourself up.

but all you could think of was the silver medal.

—

staring at the ceiling, you wiped your tears dry as you let out a sigh.

why was it still not good enough?

turning your head, you picked up your phone to check the time before going through your notifications. you had put your phone on ‘do not disturb’, no doubt missing a couple of texts and calls.

trent: congratulations! what a performance!

staring at the message for a minute or so, you hesitated before opening the message, typing a quick ‘thank you’ and sending it before closing your phone and going back to staring at the ceiling.

what if you had done a different jump? what if you had executed the 1620 a little better?

looking back at your phone, you noticed trent had replied to your message as you unplugged your phone from the charging cable.

trent: if you wanna talk about it i’m free to call.

he knew you all too well.

deliberating whether you should take him up on the offer for a while, you finally decided to, dialling his number and putting the phone on speaker as you waited a response.

“hey,” trent’s voice could be heard from the other end of the line. “you okay?”

“could be better, honestly,” you replied. “how did you deal with it?”

“deal with what?”

“y’know…” you replied vaguely, not wanting to bring up the dreaded loss.

“oh,” he responded, picking up on what you were referring to. “not well to be honest, but talking to someone helped me. and lots of crying as well. i guess it was easier because we won the champions league and fa cup. seeing the fans at the parade helped as well.”

trent paused for awhile, nothing but a slight sigh being able to be heard on the other line.

“second place always feels the worst, i get that— especially losing by one point as well. but don’t be so hard on yourself, there’s no point y’know? you did everything you could’ve done and it was one hell of a performance,” he continued speaking. “i know you’re probably beating yourself up over it so don’t. there’s nothing you can do to change what happened and knowing you, you tried your best. you tried your best and that’s all you could really do. take a few days off, pick yourself up and come back stronger, y’know?”

“mhm,” you hummed in response. “it just hurts. it hurts a lot.”

“it’s only natural,” he responded. “you’ll bounce back, though, i know you will.”

“thanks, trent,” you smiled, taking in the words of advice. “you really helped.”

“no problem,” he laughed. “i’m always here if you need anything, alright, love?”

[galgannet]

Ahmose I (Ahmes I) was a pharaoh who reigned approximately 1550 - 1525 BC. e., and is the founder of the 18th dynasty. He was never particularly popular or known and that’s the reason that made me draw this picture so that people would remember him or learn about him. Ahmose's reign began on the day he came of age (at the age of 16), by which time his heroic father Seqenenra Taa II was already dead (he died not from intrigue, as you might think, but in a battle with the Hyksos). Ahmose's mother, Queen Yahhotep, initially ruled together with her son until he got married. Having blessed the couple to have a long and happy life, she finally retired from political affairs (not really). Ahmose continued the war with the Hyksos because his father’s work had to continue and his death had to be avenged. The brave pharaoh set his sights on the very capital of his vile enemies. The young pharaoh entered into an alliance with Crete, which was famous for its unsurpassed fleet (And also for dancing with bulls and a centralized water supply, but that’s another story). He led the combined fleet to Avaris, a fortified city located on the Nile Delta, which made approaches to it from the river quite convenient. Nevertheless, the siege lasted for an indecently long time and only in the 11th year of the reign of Ahmose, the city was captured through a fierce assault. Many hands were cut off, and the water was stained with blood to the delight of the alligators. The unfortunate Hyksos were forced to retreat all the way to Asia, liberating all of Lower Egypt. But this did not stop Ahmose. The thirst for revenge and the desire to protect Egypt from further encroachments by the Hyksos forced him to capture the Sharukhen fortress in Palestine. The last stronghold of his enemies fell. All this time, Queen Yahhotep did not sit idle and actively helped her son in military activities, earning awards for her valor (perhaps we will talk about her in our next illustrations). Recapturing Egypt became the greatest deed in the life of Ahmose (which, you see, is quite impressive). While the young pharaoh was engaged in his military activities (after all, as you know, once you start, it’s impossible to stop), his still fragile power over Egypt weakened. Uprisings began. However, they were successfully suppressed, thus finally strengthening him on the throne. Finally, as he grew older, Ahmose’s ardor subsided and he began construction work. However, he was not so good in this field and practically not a single building of Ahmose has survived to this day. However, during his time new quarries were opened for the construction of temples, so everything is not so bad. Ahmose's mother and grandmother were quite strong women who actively participated in political and even military activities until their last day. The first wife of Ahmose, Ahmose-Nefertari, also did not lag behind her relatives. All these women overshadowed Ahmose himself (we will not write about their deeds here). However, he loved his family and treated them with respect, which is reflected in some frescoes and in the records of scribes. The painting reflects my interpretation of the fresco on the stele that Ahmose dedicated to his grandmother Tetisheri after her death. Here he makes offerings to her. Ahmose died early, he was about 40 years old. After his death, his son Amenhotep I took the throne. If you want to know more about this pharaoh, but don't want to read boring historical texts, there are works of fiction on the topic. Ahmose is the main character in Naguib Mahfouz's novel The War of Thebes and Christian Jacques's Wrath of the Gods trilogy. Both works tell the story of the liberation of Egypt from the rule of the Hyksos. Artstation | Deviantart | VK | Commission List

[choccorin]

making a very stupid decision which is not attending our year end party (long text under cut!)

it's not stupid at all ! but like ... i feel like i'll regret it ... I'M ALREADY REGRETTING IT NOW! well sort of. not really. i want to attend but also no ??? ok first, i probably won't eat most of the food there, i have afrid, plus i don't like eating in front of other people.

second, i really want to go to the art museum again. i can't go even if i don't have school because i have to take care of my siblings </3, but i technically have school during the year end party, i just won't attend it ... so i think it's okay. i mighttt lie to my parents about attending it, my mom will probably keep forcing me to go if i tell them.

third, i'm not reallllyyy friends with any of them. if i attend a party, big or small, i'd want to be with my friends. people i actually get along with and know! i don't want to feel left out. and i know that me not attending the party will make me even more left out, but i don't really like my classmates. i don't match their vibes, hobbies, or habits at all. they drink, i don't. they vape, i don't. <- two of the things that make me ick! so being close friends with them isn't a choice anymore. i want to be friends with people who i'm comfortable with!

fourth, i SUCK at party games. SERIOUSLY! i have a huge fear of embarrassing myself in front of everyone so it's better if i just don't play, right? but that loses all the fun in being at a party.

fifth, ang gastos nila! LIKE ??? i'm sorry if my poorness is speaking but 16 FOODS ?!??!? including the drinks ?!?!!? napaka-oa lang for me. mauubos ba ng lahat 'yan? tsaka ang mahal pa ata ng mga bibilhin nila ... hays, mga rich kids! i can never relate. also related to my first reason. baka mamaya may caviar na silang dala d'yan. i have a gut feeling na may magdadala ng sushi. feel ko lang ... tapos may exchange gift pa. ang ano lang, 200 pesos lang yung budget ... anong mabibili mo sa 200 pesos na exchange gift in this day and age sa pilipinas ?! parang ang taas din ng standards ng iba pagdating sa exchange gift so sure ako may lalagapas d'yan sa maximum limit.

lastly, very stupid reason, i don't have anything to wear lol. well, meron naman. pero hindi siya okay sa school policy namin ... ('di ko pa sure kung may dress rules pa rin)

okay, i know that doing this will probably make my social skills worse but i want to be alone for now. i'm so tired of having a group of friends that'll just backstab each other and break apart. it makes me feel like a child of divorce, but worse!

i also want to be more comfortable with being alone! i know that i won't always have friends beside me so i should let myself get used to it. and alsooo, i want to boost my confidence in being alone in a crowd :) i think marami nang mga tao ngayon sa museums so it's a good time to practice. also (last na), reason na mag-isa ako mag-museum is because ang tagal ko tumingin ... like i really stare at each painting, admire their details, and think about what it wants to convey ! i recently watched on how to properly look at paintings and i'm excited to try it out :3 also (last na talaga), ang hilig ko maglakad. every one of my friends complained about their legs hurting everytime we walk for long periods ... i don't want their feet to hurt because of me and to have their patience run out because i like a painting too much </3

ok that's all, if you've read this far. here's a cookie and optional milk if you're lactose intolerant like me :333 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛 and some few other snacks i guess ☕☕🍵🍵🧃🧃🍩🍩🍫🍫🍰🍰🍨🍨🍟🍟🌭🌭🍔🍔

[suohonsotkettu]

Ei itkeä saa, ei meluta saa, Karjula voi tulla ikkunan taa(s)... 🎵

Eli tänäkin jouluna kutsumme kaikki Tuntematon sotilas -fandomissa tai sen liepeillä hengailevat osallistumaan Tuntemattomaan tonttuun. Kyseessä on Secret Santa -tyyppinen matalan kynnyksen lahjapiiri, jossa edellisvuoden tapaan kaikki rohkeasti mukaan hyppäävät tontut sekä antavat että saavat lahjaksi Tuntsa-aiheisen fanituotoksen.

Vaikka ainakin osa tuotoksista tuutattaneen aikanaan tänne Tumpun puolellekin, pyörii touhu tuttuun tapaan Discordissa, jonne kaikki halukkaat ovat tervetulleita liittymään. Ja liittyä siis ihan ehdottomasti saa, vaikkei haluttaisikaan tonttuilla tänä jouluna. Neljättä vuotta pystyssä olevan serverin aktiivisuustaso on kauniisti sanottuna vaihteleva, mutta uusille suohon sotkeentujille on aina tilaa. ❤️

Tapahtuman tarkoituksena on levittää hyvää mieltä ja siinä sivussa aktivoida ah-niin-rakasta fandomiamme. Mahdolliset kysymykset voi suunnata joko nimimerkeille @suohonsotkettu ja @sydanhaavoilla tai suoraan Discordiin. Viime vuonna syntyneitä fanituotoksia näkee tägin #tuntematontonttu2022 takaa.

Ilmoittautuminen aukeaa sunnuntaina 15.10.2023 ja on avoinna lokakuun loppuun asti, minkä jälkeen kullekin tontuista paljastetaan oma lahjottavansa.

Discord-serverille pääset tästä: