#bc she *is* the weave but she is also the weaver | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vaultsixtynine · 3 years ago

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zaïre timeline:

age 0: orphaned or abandoned around birth, and taken into a dyers and weavers guild. hospitality and doing good for others is a big thing in her society, and guilds will strategically take in children for both tax breaks and for the future possibility of raising their guild's caste during the once-a-decade appeal process

ugh cut bc i love to Talk sorry - EDIT: THIS GOT SO LONG. SORRY.

age 7ish: already adept at the smaller weaving tasks and skills she's been taught, she finds and is made immensely curious about her creche-mother's hidden trove of books. in her society, literacy was historically restricted to higher castes or the few in a lower caste who had need of the ability to read and write, usually for business purposes, and though moods relax about it during different eras, the most recent ass to sit on the throne is very much in favor of the restriction, so it's much more severe than it was even like 20 years ago. there's also a semi-enforced cultural difference between high and low speech - imagine the vast gulf of difference between the latin of ye olden christianity vs. the vernacular in a given country. low speech is, even when written and used in low-caste business, fairly far removed from high speech. her creche-mother relents and lets her look at the books - first only at the illustrations, but eventually zaïre learns to read and becomes bored with the small stash available to her.

14ish: zaïre, now highly literate and an excellent weaver in her own right, has a secret but steady supply of books to read - her favorites are stories and folklore from her own country, translated books from abroad, and extremely restricted high-caste books on magic. she's not really a mage in her own right, but finds it fascinating. she frequently volunteers to go foraging outside the city for natural dye plants, so that she has somewhere peaceful to read without worrying about who sees.

15 through 16: high-caste policies on literacy become increasingly strict due to generalized unrest in the low castes (which periodically happens, and is dealt with in myriad ways), and zaïre's book stash is found in a surprise search. going to prison for harboring illegal books/literacy materials has become more common and has a similar vibe to punishment for political dissent, but there have also been worrying reports about what your sentence might be - zaïre is terrified of being locked away for (potentially) the rest of her life, and rightfully so, but her creche-mother chooses to take the blame and go in her stead. this is crushing for obvious reasons, as she was a mentor figure and basically a mother to her, but this quietly radicalizes rather than subdues zaïre. she continues to read, but is more paranoid and careful about how she procures materials and how she passes them on to others. she starts sharing stories she's read as oral folk tales and musical pieces, which gains her a small audience both within her caste and a few from other lower castes who value the sharing of information that they themselves cannot glean from the written word. she starts small lessons, dangerous as they are, and begins distributing tiny hand-written pamphlets in both low speak and high speak (mirrored to show people how to read both). she even binds books herself - using fabric scraps from her guild, paper she makes from reeds she gathers, and using other books as binding examples. she makes her own ink from fabric dyes - this is the secret passion that lies under her everyday life. she loves weaving, identifies with it, but making books and writing and sharing knowledge is even more fulfilling.

somewhere around/after turning 16: after a deeply shitty trial, zaïre's creche-mother is found guilty of a larger string of 'crimes' than just a book stash, namely sedition, teaching others to read and write, and a string of thefts - her trial is public, and though her country doesn't believe in the death sentence and won't execute people, her humiliation, proclamation of ill fate, and life sentence is. so, so bleak. in addition, her entire guild is dropped a caste - they were now in the lowest caste, right above ~criminals~ and those who are not considered by the law at all, like foreigners. this is a Huge Thing, as traditional legal code normally indicates that an entire guild or caste should not be punished for the actions of a few or an individual within that caste, but this means that current political leaders and the court system are willing to throw that out to placate the royal Issue with literacy at the moment. this is deeply frightening for anyone below the military caste, because now any slight could destroy your whole family or guild. there is a brief spurt of an uprising in response to this, but it's not well-connected and gets stamped out nearly immediately.

unfortunately for zaïre, before she even gets home from this public sentencing, someone who's presumably put two and two together about where she's been getting her material for her not-book clubs has shared their concerns with the powers that be, in an attempt to save themselves or save the guild - to refocus the ire on someone else. she's at first concerned by what looks like smoke coming from her neighborhood, until she realizes her entire guild hall has been lit on fire - guards found her second and better-hidden stash - this one filled with inks and papers to boot - and what started as setting those on fire has rapidly expanded because. it's a weaver's guildhall filled with flammable shit.

still roughly 16: zaïre... runs away. she flees the city and heads into the foothills with barely anything, and is deep in the nearby mountains when she finally has to stop and try and figure out shelter and food/water bc she's exhausted. she ducks into a tiny cave high on a cliff face and hopes she'll be hidden enough there, but the cave goes back and back... she's originally just trying to make sure nothing's living in there besides her, but she gets a little lost. she tries not to panic, but eventually sees light and chases it - straight over a ledge into a little old, carved-out room that's lit with carefully placed boreholes, and she's sprained her ankle in the process. it's nearly night and there's both no way out and no critters in there, so she sadly turns into a lump and tries to sleep.

she wakes up in the middle of the night to see that the boreholes are now letting in moon and starlight, and have lit a beautiful pattern on the one wall of the room, which seems to be carved with some depiction of... a war? an event? a natural disaster? her curiosity gets the better of her, and she recognizes the engraved text as an archaic version of low speak, not high speak - it's nearly unreadable, but she picks away at its meaning for awhile and watches as the starlight slowly lines up with recessed areas on this story-carving that she didn't notice before. she cleans the little divots out with a corner of her robe and there's little star-gems/desert glass pieces set in there, which of course Magically Light Up now that the dust is cleaned off of them. nearly invisible seams in the carving open up and there's a small sigh of air as a previously-airtight compartment in the wall opens, and in there is a. book? there's a small, tattered leather book, sitting there on a small, simply carved stand. all the starlight from the boreholes center on the book, and as soon as she tentatively reaches out to grab it, zaïre has an EXTREMELY moses-and-burning-bush moment.

she can't describe it, she can barely remember it, but it felt like the hand of fate directly on her - inside of her, a light filling her to the brim and overflowing, a terrible but not fully cogent understanding of things that happened nearly a thousand years ago. it fills her with a fire that is not entirely her own, but it pairs with her own fear and helplessness and sorrow at what's happening in her home (which is the capital city, so it's really like. the seat of problems for the whole country as well), and her desire to change it. it's So Much that it hurts, sears all her veins and every breath from the inside out, and she fucking passes out and conks her head on the way down.

she wakes up sometime later - possibly days later - and does not necessarily have new wisdom or knowledge that she didn't have before, but she still does have the fire. the wall is closed, the book is in her hands, and she knows beyond all doubt that she was fated to have it, to read it and understand it and act on it, if need be. it's still in that archaic low speak, but somehow her hunger and thirst are gone and her ankle feels better - she stays in that room, slowly reading and teaching herself this more ancient language, for weeks. she doesn't sleep, eat, drink, or relieve herself, and she figures out that the book is an ancient set of stories that chronicles a power struggle and shift from an ancient empire into the proto-country that eventually became her country. a lot of it is written in a nearly fairy-tale like fashion and is intentionally obfuscated on the exact historicity of what's being presented, but there are distinct lessons and exactitudes written into it, and she has NEVER been more fascinated.

she thinks the author was setareh, who is the closest thing her nation's spiritual practice has to a christ figure - the founder of the country, the only woman ever directly in contact with the higher whims of fate, the only saint revered, the only one called on to intercede with fate on the people's behalf. she gets used in as many curses as prayers, but she's like. THE most important historical/spiritual figure, and the only one that's ever been formally recognized by the state. reading her writing is... insane. it's insane, to zaïre, but she's absolutely certain it's hers. the other big thing is that setareh's accounts severely defy the recognized/taught history of her nation, especially where the castes are concerned. they were left over from the old empire, and setareh herself made excruciating pains to get rid of them - they were against fate itself, they boxed people in to narrow roles and mindsets, and they enabled corruption and abuses like no other form of social organization. she engineered the prognosticator and shared her abilities surrounding interpretation of fate to continue to ensure that castes didn't form - the prognosticator is a magical construct that (according to setareh) can be approached by anyone, asked any question, and it will provide that person the barest sliver of a glimpse of Fate in response. these answers are usually extremely cryptic, but it will never answer the same question asked by the same person twice, and it will also not answer someone who Overheard that question and asked it themselves. in the modern day, the prognosticator is kept in a secret wing of the palace and only utilized by high-caste officials in dire matters, but setareh went on to detail how members of a family or social group could ask the same question - "what is my most ideal role in my society" (or something to that effect) and get wildly different answers, supporting her own theory that castes are a waste of potential within a society and to be avoided at all costs. she also goes on about other organizational and social theory, and it's kind of like reading a marx book but separated by hundreds upon hundreds of years and marx is now a saint figure to you.

after zaïre gets through the social theory portion of the book, she gets to a section that is missing pages. this is immensely distressing to her, as she has no fucking clue what was removed - by setareh? by someone else? what could be so important (or so dangerous) to remove from literally the most holy artifact to ever exist? and it was right in the middle of the climax of how they rebelled and fought the old order, and - and - and this book is now the most important thing in her life. this book will enable her to teach others that the higher castes have been repressing information for hundreds of years for their own gain, and that they all deserve so much more. this book is EVERYTHING. she has to get it back to her people, to show them and read it to them and spread the truth.

still 16, but now at least a few months after she left the capital: eventually crawling back out of the cave via a set of climbing handholds that she hadn't seen before, she carefully slips back into town (now extremely famished and thirsty, as the strangeness of the Book Room has worn off). her guildhall is destroyed, her former guild-family members scattered to be adopted into other guilds or slide further down the caste ladder - specifically because her guild had not one but two 'dangerous criminals' in it, which made the judicial caste dissolve it as an entity entirely. she's numb to this; it horrifies her, but it can't break the thrill in her veins caused by the little book tucked in her robes. she goes underground, using some contacts that she had dallied with while doing her illegal writing, bookbinding, and occasional teaching, and gets more situated than i think she ever thought she'd be comfortable with.

16 through 17: she hosts illegal book club gatherings, and starts doing everything she was doing Before, but more often and more passionately. she gathers steam as the powers that be continue to crack down - has a few close run-ins, but develops a web of people who are also upset and looking for a way to empower themselves and ~learn the truth~. word of some secret, recently unearthed writings of setareh spreads, and she gets more and more people showing up, to the point where she has to actively Be Careful how much attention she's drawing. some people begin calling her by a new surname - az-setareh (az is a genitive indicator, so she's 'of-setareh'), rather than her former guild-associated surname, and the association with setareh herself thrills her but also makes her worry if she's getting a little Too far ahead of herself. who is she, to let them claim this? who is she, to preach in setareh's stead? but they need to know the truth. they have to. it doesn't matter what the consequences are.

right before she turns 17: one of her book clubs turns into a slaughterhouse. normally she and hte people supporting her were good about knowing when a guard was about, or trying to gain access, but not this time. this one flew under the radar, and it only takes one. people got boxed in and - even though executions are still banned by the judicial caste - there's nothing wrong with defending yourself if you're a guard hunting seditionists, right? that particular book club session was being held in a large backroom of a bathhouse, and as she was pulled away out the back window of the adjoining bathroom, she remembers so clearly the fountains feeding the main bathing area running deep, deep red.

17 and on the run again: she flees again, this time with a back-up plan she'd concocted months ago in case this exact thing happened. she had never been exposed to violence quite like that - it had been ramping up steadily, but she never quite believed that it would actually happen. but. it clearly did, and she's quietly shellshocked and doesn't realize how furious she is until she's already halfway to the high desert and the karstlands. she's alone because she wanted the person who was originally going to go with her to go home to their family and never ever, EVER search for her again - this was her fault, and you don't deserve to get killed for it - so she just breaks down in the shade of a wind-weathered rock and finally actually processes what happened. she can't go back to the city. she has no martial knowledge or capability when it comes to protecting anyone. all she has is words and song and books and weaving, and that is NOT enough, right now. i think she decides that other people who have beef with her current government are probably going to be the best ones to turn to - so she goes for the karstlands, which is where old, old (old as in well-established, not geriatric) nomadic groups still live, away from the cities, the caste system, and royal oversight.

17-18: this part is the least ironed-out. i do know a few things: while with the nomadic groups of the karsts, she makes friends after a period of distrust, she shares the book of setareh openly and learns more about why they live outside of the cities (because they disagree with the caste system and have their own Lore about the country; they fundamentally don't see themselves as setareh's people, but do have respect for her as a historical figure), and also learns their stories and their history. some karst groups are heavily associated with the "original" elven culture/people that live up in the mountains in the east, and they tend to be even less involved or interested in whatever's going on in the lowlands, but more of them are formed from people who Used to be of the same group as setareh's people before the split happened, but literally every nomad group has a different story as to WHY the split happened. she ultimately posts up with the group most amenable to the idea of helping her in Actual Rebellion, and they're also one of the best metallurgists with specific weapon traditions surrounding the weapons they forge.

long story short, she's asked to honor their shared traditions (since some of it is also recorded by setareh in the book) by finding her own starmetal (meteoric in nature), working it into her own swords, and then learning how to utilize those swords capably. she forges 2 khopesh swords (because the empire before her country was very inspired by ancient egypt and setareh directly references having khopesh-equivalents - this is my excuse for thinking khopesh swords are cooler than talwar sorry) and begins training with these two swords (in dnd terminology she becomes a college of swords bard as opposed to just A Bard). during this time she also builds up correspondence - carried by pigeons, who are viewed as sky rats in contemporary culture but used to hold more significance, and also zaïre loves them - with people who still support her and still distribute her work back in the capital.

18ish: she's slowly building up support, rapport in the karstlands, and building infrastructure back at home. some people who have also been driven out by the government even come to her, and she starts to build up a little bastion. this is insane to her btw. like she's 18. everything in her life for the past two years has been insane. but she knows it's true, she knows it's right, she knows that she can't do anything else but this. this is what she has to do, because fate brought her here. she was never weak growing up, but now she has the dexterity of martial training, the strength of pulling her weight among people who live close to the land, the grace of a now-comfortable performer and storyteller who loves what she does. she even writes songs to send back and popularize in the city - ditties and work songs, tavern songs, lullabies. anything she can. she's gathered more powerful allies as well - if this were a video game, they'd be companions, to codify their importance a bit. she gets a new one! the seven scribes are a group of scholars in the highest caste (magic users & scholars at large) who are The ultimate arbiters (above the royal seat, even) on what gets taught about setareh, fate, and the founding of the country, and their youngest member decided to defect because the paranoia and fear and increasing suspicion about literacy even got up into the highest caste and began to directly affect him. he was originally of a lower caste that was 'adopted' up (this happens with some of the higher castes, as they occasionally lose too many people to age and don't have anyone to flesh the caste out to their comfort levels - so they go and find promising new members, who have to change their entire way of life forever to join the new caste), and he began to dig deeper and deeper into the state of decay in the higher castes, and was immensely troubled by what he found. so he came out here to learn, to hear what the book and zaïre had to say, and ultimately to help her.

18 through late 19: zaïre's rebellion started to actually take off from here, and they began to move people and supplies towards the capital. this is where it began to actually be... kind of a war? it was never a fully-fledged one, but there were battles. there were wins, losses, and mostly her forces engaged in a guerilla fashion. she got a lot of lessons on how to enact violence and command others to enact violence, and disliked it but stayed the course because the red-water bathhouse had never left her mind or her nightmares. people died. she tried to deal with it. she kept going. unrest in the city continued. forces were recalled from elsewhere in the country to deal with her - she pressed on. over the course of the year, she and the scribe began a romance. it was very ummm. young adult novel, in a lot of ways, and he got access to a level of zaïre that no one else had - and she enjoyed it! she enjoyed the private language of lovers in a movement where people treated her So Differently because of what she represented. where she had to commit violence, she had to kill, and somehow cope with it. she had to take her comforts where she could, and he was absolutely that comfort. it also didn't help that they meshed extremely well and she trusted him absolutely - something that some of her other companions/advisors weren't fully comfortable with.

sometime after she turned 20: her rebellion launched a huge operation to take over the prison and free all the prisoners who had been stuffed in there for supporting her or just trying to be literate lol - this was a huge undertaking, and they'd been planning it for well over half a year. controlling the prison - which was a part of the city - would signal the first real portion of the city taken away from the royals, as well, and hopefully would be the death knell and encourage the lower castes to actually rise in armed rebellion. the fact that they'd even gotten this far... it felt right. it felt fated. it felt like they could only succeed from here.

and they did succeed! they took the prison. zaïre got to see her creche-mother again, even - and then everything fell apart. their misdirection backfired, and the military caste swarmed the prison before they'd had a chance to get set up properly and also WAY ahead of schedule, and her people got cut down, backstabbed, chased into corners and slaughtered. she tried to run out and help - she wasn't helpless, anymore, she could fight, she could - only to have scribe bf tell her it was for her own good and put her to sleep. the last thing she saw was her creche-mother flying at the scribe in rage and a soldier step in to run her through.

yaaay, betrayal! or more specifically: the betrayal was supposed to be more violent in zaïre's general direction, but scribe bf had accidentally developed a handful of feelings for her and convinced the crown that killing her wouldn't be a good idea. no idea how he thought that wouldn't backfire on him in terms of zaïre hating him forever, but like. life's rough i guess.

now for the fun part! prisonnnn. the book was stripped from her and she was slammed into the darkest, dankest cell for a few months while the crown finished putting down the rebellion, capturing her companions, etc. etc., all the good stuff. then, because i'm imagining the current king of this country as a man who is perhaps a bit unhinged (and has deteriorated over time from four years ago) but in a way where he keeps it on lock, he decides that zaïre can earn the right for her former companions to not be bloodily and publicly executed if she does just one little thing for him. thus begins a bizarrely scheherazade sequence - she is kept as the nightly entertainment (presumably to thoroughly shame and belittle her, and show her former followers that she has no power and can't do shit, so give up), where she tells tales, sings, dances - general performance stuff, done during/shortly after nightly mealtimes. if he's satisfied with her performance at the end of each month, he'll free one former companion, escort them out of the city, let them go wherever they want. if she's performed badly, given too much attitude, said anything inflammatory... well, you know. there's already so much blood on her hands, why not more?

she hates this. she does it anyway. she's dressed nightly in the most outlandish garb and makeup to cover up her sunken cheeks, her malnourishment from continuing to live In Fucking Prison, and she submits herself to being a dancing bear for a man she hates in the hopes that it will save someone she loves. the worst nights are the ones where ex-bf scribe shows up to watch, and she has to actively stop herself from sobbing in rage when she sees him. this goes on for most of a year, until most of her companions are freed. there was one or two months where something pissed the king off just a little too much and she had to watch her former companions get executed in absolute silence. then there's just her, and - since the king has gotten bored of this by now and his promise is fulfilled - she gets thrown back in prison, again into the darkest corner. she spends most of her time reciting setareh's book to herself, to make sure she can't forget it - she's had it memorized for years, but she is soooo terrified of losing it now that she no longer has access to it. and besides that, she just goes a tiny bit bonkers from the isolation and the shame and the regret and the rage. it really, really sucks to be the YA novel protagonist who fails and doesn't even die, is the thing.

she turns 21 without realizing it, and is eventually dragged back out of prison - the king has finally given in to his one scribe's insistence that this needs to be finally dealt with, it's been long enough for her movement to be fully crushed, blah blah blah, and now she suffers the final indignity: she has her lips briefly sewn shut (this won't cause permanent scarring as long as they're removed, or so the internet tells me) so that she can't say any final words to the crowd, and then she's subjected to a public 'trial' and a public maiming - her throat is cut, not to kill, but to mute. she receives just enough healing to not bleed out, and then setareh's book is ripped apart in front of her eyes, her screams just coming out as a bloody gurgling noise as she thrashes around in an attempt to stop them. she's pronounced sharnevesht (replaces her surname), exiled, strapped to a beast of burden with her hands and ankles tied, and sent off into the deep desert with three days of water, her swords, and the empty spine of setareh's book.

eventually she gets found by someone (read: probably daja) out in the desert, after she's very nearly dead from exposure and dehydration and generally just from having her entire life crushed and ground into dust. after a period of nursing back to health and trying to find the will to do anything, she departs for another country because she'll be killed on sight if she enters any settled area here ever again. and... she can't go back to anyone. there is no one left. she has failed everyone in every way that matters, and has nothing to show for it - less than nothing. less than she started with. she officially swears off violence, but continues to carry her swords with her because she can't stomach leaving them behind, either. her faith is extremely shaky at this point and tending towards catastrophizing, and she just Leaves even though she's still weak and malnourished. she can't even bear to die in her country, that's how fucking depressed she is. if she has to die, let it be in some cold, foreign place - she doesn't even deserve to have her body decay here.

22, 23: she's left and become a random traveler in neighboring countries. she's more or less completely mute, and now makes money (when she needs it) by playing various instruments, mostly flute. she sometimes fills the role of adventurer, but mostly just tries to avoid getting anyone hurt. she's slowwwwwwly become less depressed and more interested in helping people, and she's gotten several leads on pages of setareh's book - and even has gotten a few of them back. they've seemed to travel weirdly far & wide considering their original context, but. if it takes her her whole life. she will get all the pages back. it's the only repentance that means anything to her, anymore.

she's now mid-23! her life has been a wild ride so far, and she Is Not Done! she doesn't even have answers to a lot of weirdness that cropped up during her rebellion - deeper answers to why certain information was being repressed other than broad 'it's how they maintain power' hand-waving, and what was contained on the missing pages of setareh's book - and also she has so many people left to meet who will be important to her, and whose lives she'll be an important part of. she's still regaining her strength and is somewhat frail after all the prison and abuses and misery, but she's definitely over the worst of it.

anyway there's my mute bard who is a pacifist and nevertheless carries two big ass swords with her. she has settled into her sorrow semi-gracefully, but she still has a lot to learn from other people that she'll meet. her faith in fate's path for her is deeply shaken, and she'll have a difficult time regaining it, but she also still cares about her country so, so much. she still cares about her failed rebellion and still wants a future where it succeeds - or if not hers, someone else's. also she deserves to love and be loved by someone who isn't going to backstab her 😭

sorry for the Fucking novel holy shit. it's time for me to stop now

#there's additional Lore abt her country but i'm going to shut the fuck Up now lmfao #i need to go play a video game. goodbye

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finelythreadedsky · 5 years ago

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would you mind expanding on how gender is about death to the ancient greeks? i don’t really understand what that means, (but im curious to learn!)

Okay so the first thing you need to understand is that sometimes I just say things that make sense in my head and within the specific context of every piece of writing and media I have ever consumed and only those. So not sure how much explaining I can really do, but I think there’s relevant stuff in my tag death and the maiden (which is not just for that trope).

First of all it’s a big persephone mood, because she’s conceptualized both as an archetype of marriage and entry into womanhood and of death (and rebirth). When Louise Gluck said “spring will return, a dream/ based on a falsehood: that the dead return” she’s picking up on the story’s equation of the return of the dead with the return of a girl to her mother from her husband— equally impossible. I’ve talked a little about that connection here.

But I think it comes down to the fact that for the greeks, womanhood was defined as the ability to give birth/create life which is intrinsically wrapped up in death??? I’ve been having some pretty incoherent thoughts about greek perspectives on dualisms and opposites and then ancient ideas of womanhood as related to life but also therefore inherently related to death... cyclical dualisms... not sure how much sense that makes. (and then dualism itself is also gendered female as opposed to male singularity, so the life/death relationship is also inherently female…)

Actually I think it makes some sense in the terms I put it in a while ago to talk about hadestown— women are conceptualized (in hadestown and generally in greek thought) as cyclical and ~natural~ and connected to the cycles of the earth, i.e. to the cycles of life and death. I read an article for my greek paper that talks about the greek opposition of woman-as-nature and man-as-culture/civilization, and I think this is similar. linearity and stability are gendered male, and cyclicality and change are gendered female, which makes sense in terms of what life would have been supposed to look like: a man’s identity and status remain constant throughout his life, but a woman moves through daughter/wife/mother as her identity and function in society, as opposed to how having a wife or children has little bearing on a man’s identity.

And then also the conceptualization of love as death and death as love… there’s a HUGE motif in greek (and roman) literature/art of the conflation of marriage (or sex or love) and death (that’s a lot of the stuff in my death and the maiden tag). (only for women, though, bc obviously love and marriage and sex are for girls.) and I think I’m running with that to the idea of womanhood as a kind of death for a girl. A while ago I phrased it as “marriage is when a girl turns into a woman and death is when a girl turns into a body and those are the same thing” because for the ancient greeks a woman is a body, a body defined by its ability to create life but also not really alive in the way that men are, i.e. a participant in life.

And then also I am literally always thinking about philomela (recently because of how she’s alluded to in the Agamemnon) and the idea of the female voice as essentially a voice of lament, and then there’s the actual role of women in mourning and death rituals. I’ve read some things that talk about mourning and funerals as one of the only means of public expression available to athenian women. and then woman defined as weaver (my jam), weaving defined as shroud-weaving… woman defined as one who laments and remembers the dead…

but also like. think of all of this as said with the voice of someone very stoned, very late at night. “gender... is about death...” yeah sure anything goes

#mine #death and the maiden #Anonymous #to forbid that you should ever lose your screams #beginning to strongly dislike that tag also ive used it very inconsistently #anyone else pls feel free to respond and drop your takes!

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tomsrebeleyebrow · 5 years ago

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Finding Love by the Nile | pharaoh!th x fem!reader

Summary: New Pharaoh Tom is young and handsome. After succeeding to his father at a very young age, he is now respected and loved by everyone – but mostly desired by the all ladies of the Egypt Kingdom. As big as his harem can be, one particular creature catches his attention since long time ago and now, he is determined to make her his.

Pairing: Pharaoh!Tom x Commoner!Reader

Warnings: some cute cocky Tom moments but full fluff power

Word Count: 3485

A/N: I’m such a sucker for Egyptian mythology since forever so I decided to combine this passion with Tom, because I’ve never read something like that(?). And there is actually a Tutankhamun exhibition in Paris (and I wish so hard I could go tbh), that’s how this idea popped up into my brain 😗 So yeah, we’ll see how it goes!! Hope you like it ✨

⚠️ For the sake of the plot with the time period and ethnic details (Antic Egypt), the reader (Y/N) will have black/brunette hair, brown eyes and a little tanned skin. Tom will also be a bit more tanned. Thank you for your understanding!! ⚠️

masterlist

City of Giza, Egypt – c. 1539 BC

(Y/N) walks in the streets of the city center. It’s barely ten in the morning. People mill in the alleys and the merchants don’t hesitate to scream about their good deals in hope to tempt new customers. Children weave in and out the crowd playing tag, as their giggles full of life mix with the regular morning hubbub.

Always so much life, nothing changes.

This is the place where the young (Y/N) was born and grown up, in a kind family in a modest home but where it was good to live in. But nothing goes as we plan them to be. And (Y/N) still remembers that particular day where her destiny changed.

The old pharaoh left the world of the living to join the Other Side of god Osiris. All Egypt cried its deceased king who reigned for almost thirty years. And all Egypt got surprised to see a twelve-year old boy announced as his heir. His only child. When the boy was officially proclaimed as Pharaoh of the Egypt Kingdom, the population got to finally discover the face of its new ruler. So young but already with a disconcerting beauty. Wild brown hair due to ridiculous curls, but that seemed weirdly soft to touch. Big brown eyes so deep and sharp but warm at the same time. Him and (Y/N) were the same age at the time. She couldn’t stop but stare at him with marvel and astonishment. Both their worlds were different: the rich sovereign family on one side and the servant people on the other. But that didn’t stop the aforesaid people to cheer and honor their new king chosen by the Gods. And (Y/N) did the same.

Then time flew by and (Y/N) is now eighteen. Long and thick brunette hair cascades on her back, framing a luscious body as well as her gorgeous visage, with hazelnut eyes and soft lips. Stride across the streets of the city, on a market day, is one of her favorite hobbies. It is nearly impossible for her to miss this day, unless if her father needs some help for work.

‘(Y/N)!!’ As she hears her name, she turns her head toward the voice.

‘Oh, hi Nana! How are you?’ Asks (Y/N) with a warm smile.

It is “Nana”, as casually named, the old neighbor lady next to (Y/N)’s household. She is like a second grandmother to her and they truly are fond of each other. (Y/N) couldn’t miss an occasion to pay her a visit.

‘Good, my child, thank you. I bumped into you father while going out and he asked me to tell you, if I saw you, to join him in front of the bridge outside the city.’

Oh. (Y/N) knows more than well what that means.

‘Your father is making more and more return trips to the Royal Palace. It seems like the Pharaoh appreciates his fabrics a lot!’ Laughs Nana.

The Pharaoh. Just talking about it makes (Y/N) let out a big sigh. She is not the only one that grown up, the young Pharaoh from six years ago back then has also changed. Quite a lot.

(Y/N) observed his evolution during several visits to the Palace. Born in a modest family of linen farmers since decades, the young lady grown between fields and weavers and was determined to carry on the traditions. Everyone liked their textiles made of linen, including the royal family who put its trust in (Y/N)’s father. As soon as she was able to work (quite early), her father brought her with him to the Pharaoh’s Palace to deliver and propose new textiles. Of course she always stayed behind to let her father handle the family business, but she took advantage of it to observe the new “little king”, – as some people called him at first –, at any occasion. His mother and close advisers were always in sight to guide him at the beginning of his reign.

Still in power nowadays, he is now known as the young and handsome eighteen-year old Pharaoh idolized by all the country. Besides getting more self-confidence, he doesn’t stop and rush around like a madman to develop Egypt. And the people respect him for that matter. But what noticed (Y/N) over the years was, in addition to all that, that he became a true charmer. More like a lady-killer, in fact. He knew that. ‘The Pharaoh is so handsome!’, ‘He is more and more beautiful!’, ‘Did you see his muscles?’, ‘He must be blessed by Ra, God of the Sun!’ All the time. Any woman falls in love with him and, without anyone noticing well not really but anyway, the young Pharaoh created his own harem. Of course, like he would care. (Y/N) noticed with great regret even if she will never admit it out loud the number of young ladies increasing each time she visited the Royal Palace with her father. One even more beautiful than the other, wearing dresses too much fitted – probably created with the linen of her family – and some black kohl around the eyes, they were free to go around the Palace as they wish. But where (Y/N) could see them endlessly was next of him. All the damn time. This is what people call jealousy.

(Y/N) sighs again thinking about this all over again. She couldn’t stop, this feeling is stronger that she imagines. But it is time for her to accept her fated destiny…

‘Thanks Nana, I will go find him’ Replies finally (Y/N) while taking the granny in her arms for a hug, ‘And you, be careful at the market, okay? I’ll see you this evening!’ She then takes her leave and starts walking to the bridge, while waving to Nana on her way.

After a few minutes she catches sigh of her father who is rushing to reorganize some textiles in his barrow. (Y/N) speeds up to help him.

‘I’m here, father!’

‘Ah, there you are (Y/N)!’ exclaims her father, turning towards his daughter’s voice, smiling. ‘I was checking if I took all the textiles to show to the Pharaoh. There we go. Everything is ready, we can go.’

Both of them set off and cross the bridge heading to the Royal Palace. It is around twenty minutes walk on the other side of the river. This is the perfect time for father and daughter to chat together about anything. The Palace is located in the South of Giza by the Nile. The air is hot, as usual, but walking by the water creates a fresh breeze that lightens their steps.

‘I see you’re wearing the new dress you made yourself yesterday’ notices her father, a proud smile showing.

The dress worn by (Y/N) is her own creation. Her mother taught her at a young age how to weave textile to then sew it and create costumes, and (Y/N) took a great liking in it. Today she wears a straight mid-length dress in cream-colored linen she tinted, with the collar and straps sewed in big stripes of pearls. The bottom of it is embellished with some patterns of Isis’ feathers. Her feet are covered in strappy sandals in dark leather.

‘You really are talented, sweetheart. I am so proud of you’ continues her father. He adores his daughter more than anything in the world, and nothing could make him happier than seeing her walk on his steps. He is sure she will accomplish great things in the future.

‘Thank you, father’ smiles (Y/N), ‘Mother also helped me a lot with the pearls.’

‘You are both talented and beautiful women.’

A peaceful silent takes place in the discussion. Both of them were all smiles and little by little, the Royal Palace is appearing in the arid horizon. (Y/N)’s thoughts start to turn upside down again, her throat is dry, her hands sweaty and an uneasy feeling begins to grow in her stomach. For some time now, it was the same. A sort of odd stress that she felt as soon as she was near the Pharaoh’s Royal Palace. The Pharaoh.

‘Your mother and I combined two types of linen to create a new type of textile. I wonder if it will be to the Pharaoh’s liking.’

Everything goes blank around her and her father’s words wanders in the air. Could I appeal to the Pharaoh? That’s impossible… (Y/N) never spoke directly to the Pharaoh, or maybe if she had to present or give some information about a textile. She just assisted her father in his task so she couldn’t imagine getting herself noticed or, even worst, being seen as someone disrespectful to the royal family. And ruin all her father’s business.

But the Pharaoh has, in fact, an intriguing personality. (Y/N) could sometimes feel his eyes on her when she was displaying textiles, while her father kept explaining all the details and features. Or he would just call her and ask her to come closer to “see the textiles better”. Of course it was not the textiles he was looking at.

‘(Y/N), we are here.’

As waking up in the middle of a dream, (Y/N) gets a grip of herself and they in fact arrived. She can’t even remember passing near the guards at the entrance.

Come on, (Y/N). Breath in…. And out…

Her father put the barrow next to the entrance archway that leads to the throne room. He picks some textiles, keeps them under his arm and starts to walk inside the Palace.

‘Father, I err… I think I will stay outside a bit. I-I got a bit hot when walking so I will join you… A bit later…’ mumbles (Y/N) while playing with her thumbs.

‘Are you sure? Do you want me to ask some water to the Phara-‘

‘No! no no no, don’t worry, father… R-Really, I just need to rest a little’ insists (Y/N), showing him a begging look.

‘If you insist, sweetheart… Sit in a shade place and do not hesitate to ask if you need something. You can join me when you feel better’ finishes her father slightly worried, but still left a kiss on her forehead. Deciding not to insist on it, he enters the Palace before glancing one last time at (Y/N) who, to reassure him, smiles and waves at him to go.

Finally alone, (Y/N) moves the barrow and places it in the shade of a jasmine tree. She decides to sit down on the sandy ground, back against the open side of the barrow and head lying of some textiles that make great pillows. She closes her eyes and empties her mind. The jasmine above her leaves a delicate perfume in the air, big palm trees swing there leafs with the wind and some birds sing in the distance. So calm. The breeze of the Nile is still refreshing the air, to (Y/N)’s pleasure. This oasis is a true haven of peace and nobody here to disturb her.

‘At least I will not see him today…’

‘I hope you’re not talking about me?’

(Y/N) jumps and lets out a squeal. She then brutally stops in her tracks of standing up because she loses her balance and lands with a chaotic “BOOM” in the middle of textiles in the barrow. And she hears that same voice chuckling at her. Its seems kind of familiar… That’s weird… Wait- When she finds her way out the piles of textiles – careful not to damage something – and is ready to stand up, she can’t believe who is in front of her.

‘I didn’t think you would be that fearful, (Y/N).’

No, that’s not possible…

Well it is?! Right in front of her eyes is the Pharaoh himself. He stands there, towering her, his torso puffed out and hands on his hips. Clearly (Y/N) couldn’t help admiring that true masterpiece. His naked and defined torso displays a pectoral collar made of golden slab, beautify with many gemstones such as lapis lazuli, cornelian and turquoise. His wrists, biceps and ankles adorn very large bracelets that look heavy just by watching them. About his costume, he wears a classic shendyt around his waist, extending to above the knees and hold by embroiled gold and blue belt. His sandals are similar to (Y/N)’s but more sophisticated with gemstones. Finally rests on his head his shiny khepresh on which the uraeus stays in the middle of his forehead like a third eye. (Here is a link of Tom’s outfit -> https://goopics.net/i/WLDoV)

And it is after a few seconds of total blank but mostly of delicious contemplation that (Y/N) comes back to her senses (again) and becomes aware of what is happening. Panicked, she throws herself at the Pharaoh’s feet.

‘I BEG YOUR PARDON, OH MY PHARA-‘

‘Calm down, (Y/N), no need to act like this!’ Laughs heartily the young king while looking at the trembling woman, forehead pressed against the ground. ‘Stand up, please.’

(Y/N) consents to his demand and begins to raise only her head but after another approving look of the Pharaoh, she stands on her two legs shaking the sand off her dress. She doesn’t dare to look at him in the eyes and her heart beats so hard it could jump out of her chest at any moment.

‘You are an emotional woman, (Y/N). Wait. Don’t move and close your eyes.’

What?

The Pharaoh moves his hand closer to (Y/N)’s face so she instinctively shuts her eyes, before she feels fingers brushing the remaining sand off of her forehand. When they gently slide on her cheek and disappear, she then opens her eyes and flutters her long eyelashes a few times.

‘There you go, you are as gorgeous as before.’

‘I-I, my Pharaoh Tutankha-‘

The aforesaid Tutankhamun interrupts her by putting his index on her plump lips.

‘I already told you to call me “Tom” when we are alone.’ Another quirkiness of his. ‘And please forget about “my king”, “my Pharaoh” and other honorific titles, it makes me feel so much older than I look like…’ whines “Tom”.

He is still a child.

‘… As you wish, “Tom”’ answers (Y/N) with a simple but humble nod, smiling. Then she asks ‘My father is already inside the Palace to display our textiles, shouldn’t you be there?’

‘I told Mother to do the job today because I wanted to get some fresh air…’ He sigh before adding ‘… At least I got the opportunity to be in your company.’

And here is the smooth Pharaoh again.

‘I’m sure your concubines would appreciate your presence even more if you join them…’

‘Pff, they are not really useful to me besides-‘

‘With all due respect, Tom, these kind of details don’t concern me. At all’ suddenly interrupts (Y/N), looking away with displeasing eyes just by the thought of him being… Intimate with ALL these DIFFERENT women.

Stay calm (Y/N), don’t lose it.

There is a heavy silence between them and Tom doesn’t waste time to break it. ‘Excuse me, (Y/N)… It didn’t mean to broach this subject…’ He corrects himself while scratching the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward and calling himself stupid in his head. And that is when (Y/N) could notice some strands of hair poking out his headgear. In fact she also notes that its way too forward on his forehead.

‘If you will allow me, Tom…’ She steps closer, stretching her arms out to finally grab his headgear between her head. ‘Your khepresh moved… I will arrange it.” And (Y/N) replaces it the right way. She decides not to mention about the adorable rebellious hair, choosing to gaze at them when he will not look.

Unconsciously, (Y/N)’s hands leave Tom’s headgear to slide and slowly caress his face, ending their way on his jawline.

Her hands are soft for a weaver… So soft, thoughts Tom, lost in his countless dreams and fantasies.

‘Thank you, (Y/N).’

When (Y/N) is aware of her action, she hurries to take away her hands but the young Pharaoh is faster and catches them back, his grasp firm but at the same time gentle.

‘These hands can create many beautiful textiles… I wonder what other wonderful things they could do for me…’

He brings her hands up to leave kisses on them. (Y/N)’s cheeks turn as red as she got sunburned. His eyes oh my his eyesstare deep in her soul, full of such desire that (Y/N) couldn’t think of something to say. She is like hypnotized, captivated by this man’s handsome figure and unctuous words.

‘C-Come on, Tom… Don’t say-’

‘Yes (Y/N), I insist… You are much more precious to me than you can imagine…’

Hands intertwined, they never look away. They stare hungrily at each other, like they could devour a one in front of them with the eyes. The only sound heard is the ibis flying over the gigantic garden to go to the Nile. How could (Y/N) even think about THE Pharaoh of Egypt himself being so interested in her, daughter of traders-weavers? And yet, Tom couldn’t look away or even think about doing so.

Is this a sign from Hathor, Goddess of love?

‘Follow me (Y/N), let’s have a walk around the oasis’ proposes Tom and before waiting for any answer, he drags her with him and goes down the stairs that leads to the Palace gardens. (Y/N) doesn’t even protest, she already knows that nothing can stop the young Pharaoh when he has an idea in mind.

Once they arrive in the oasis – that is a private place only reserved to the Royal Family – and walk for a bit, they stop in front of a huge pond liven up with tones of aquatic plants, fishes and birds. Rows of acacia and jasmine trees surround it, as if to hide the pond from curious eyes, but some sunrays continue to reflect on the clear water coming from the Nile nearby.

Astonished, (Y/N) gets close to the pond, full of life, while slowly letting loose on Tom’s grasp. He lets her go without a word and admires her in a loving way. He wishes he could keep this delightful image engraved in his mind until he dies: this woman with a goddess’ aura, the sun warming her impeccable skin and her hair dancing like her dress in rhythm with the wind and the leafs.

I want to make her mine.

Then (Y/N) turns and calls out to the Pharaoh ‘Tom, come see how beautiful the fishes are!’

In a snap (don’t you dare laugh at that word), the young king joins her at the water’s edge. He perfectly knows all species in the oasis, fishes included, but every second is a chance to be with the one he secretly loves so much. Once next to (Y/N), Tom wraps an arm around her hips and embraces her. Both of them, one head laying on the other, admire the exotic fishes shaking and splashing everywhere in the pond.

But in reality Tom and (Y/N) look at their reflection in the water. Both reflections, standing together, bodies interlacing lovingly.

And in a whisper Tom takes his chance ‘(Y/N), please, be my Queen.’

(Y/N) bits the inside of her cheek because it is like her dreams comes true, little by little but still is.

And stopping herself from laughing she answers ‘First, you get rid of the tones of kohl around your eyes and then of all your harem.’

‘Isn’t it more important to start with the girls and then the kohl?’

And (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself anymore and lets out a heartily laugh. Her answer is silly, his answer is also silly. But this entire situation is even sillier that (Y/N) could imagine. And Tom of course joins her and laughs.

‘No, first the kohl because there is too much of it and because I like looking at your eyes all natural.’

‘You’re right. Actually this thing is such a pain that my eyes get irritated at the end of the day’ huffs Tom blinking exaggeratedly his eyes at (Y/N) while approaching his face of hers, looking like a crazy man. (Y/N) doesn’t stop to laugh at him. And she impresses herself and dares to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, which gets him by surprise.

‘And then I want those girls out of here, and after we can discuss about this Queen thing’ murmurs (Y/N) still close to his lips.

‘Don’t tempt me (Y/N), I might get a bit too excited and do all that just for you’ adds seductively Tom brushing his lips against hers, while smirking.

‘Aren’t you the Pharaoh?’

‘I sure am the Pharaoh of Egypt, love…’

And all of the sudden Tom lifts (Y/N), making her leave her a surprised squeal, and carries her bride style. Now he can’t hold anymore and kisses her straight on the lips and they both savor this moment.

‘… And I will show you now.’

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swashbucklery · 5 years ago

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Look I am also just SO THIRSTY for Charlie’s backstory; it’s intersecting so beautifully with my love of her character AND my dream for Elder God Charlie and ALSO my deep deep love of textiles like it’s just so much??? Like I took a weaving class this summer and it’s like the Legends writers KNEW.

And I mean this partly in a gosh-it-would-be-fun-to-predict-canon sort of way but I kind of also just mean it in a way where I want to daydream a big, beautiful AU about this because it gets me right in my heart. Bc okay a lot of Greek and Roman interpretations of the fates have them more as spinners than weavers: the idea of your life being a thread that is spun, measured, and cut when your life is through. And if we’re taking that metaphor and extending it to weaving, then the loom of fate is more about like. Relationships? The ways that different people-as-threads intersect and overlap with each other, and the ways that humanity is ultimately like a cloth: one thread removed from it leaves a space, and affects the others woven together with it.

So then you have all these choices like:

Charlie as the weaver, who ties people to each other and combines their fates and doesn’t like that they don’t get to choose.

Charlie who has her own life’s cloth and doesn’t like who she’s woven to, wants to separate herself and choose her own path and there’s language here about choosing your fate and choosing your people that dovetails really beautifully into a metaphor for queerness as well as being explicitly about queerness and I want to play in that for DAYS

Charlie as not the weaver, but someone who watches the weaver and cares for her and sees the toll it takes on her. Charlie who breaks the loom as an act of selfless love and maybe it’s so they can be together but maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just to know that she can be free.

Charlie as one of the Fates’ sisters, make her justice or order or peace and the ways that the tapestry of fate doesn’t allow for these things. Charlie rebelling against the way that fate brings people into conflict, puts people into unjust positions and questions whether that has to be.

And somehow, give me also the idea of Charlie yearning to make her own fate and the ways that intersects with time travel. The idea of a future that’s malleable and open and if the loom is re-assembled what does time travel even mean.

Charlie trying to make the most of all the choice and freedom she has left and somehow this intersects with Zari; if her life is only her own for a few weeks longer she’s going to live as much of it as fully as she can, you know?

#i love this i love this SO MUCH #i'm going to daydream about this for WEEKS #genghis khan on a razor scooter WHO CARES i've got charlie and a wikipedia article on ancient greek loom weights #i'm SET #magical time royalty of unspecified gender charlie #the loom of fate: because humanity can't be weft to their own devices #that's a hilarious weaving pun i promise #legends of tomorrow #lot spoilers #tagfic #my fic #cw dcu feelings

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a-very-fond-farewell · 5 years ago

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The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 15/? Kimi no Na Wa AU: “Seamless” [ok I changed stuff bc I’m well on my way to thirty and teenage love is fun and fresh until you realize you could technically be a parent yourself and then it’s all downhill from there. so the characters are adults, sorry about that] [title comes from (what I understand to be) a way of saying that goes “a goddess’s robe is seamless” which (supposedly) should mean a great plan coming together –which reminded me of fate and time and the whole underlying plot of the movie– or something perfect/the product of perfect craftsmanship. I was looking for info about weaving procedures and I stumbled across this:

From Wikipedia, under “Loom” “In Tang Dynasty, China, the goddess weaver floated down on a shaft of moonlight with her two attendants. She showed the upright court official Guo Han in his garden that a goddess's robe is seamless, for it is woven without the use of needle and thread, entirely on the loom. The phrase "a goddess's robe is seamless" passed into an idiom to express perfect workmanship. This idiom is also used to mean a perfect, comprehensive plan.”

There’s also reference to the legend of Vega and Altair, which is what the Japanese festival tanabata is based on. And my creative juices gave me a sugar high so...yeah] * No matter how isolated Gusu is known to be, preparations for the upcoming July festival attract people from all over the country. Time has relentlessly transformed what used to be a secluded and safe place for people to meditate in into a tourist location known for its cold springs and breathtaking sceneries. Yet, Lan Zhan wonders what cities and stories could possibly hide behind those mountains he has known for all his life.

Managing the temple of the goddess along with his older brother and uncle should bring him joy, but deep down he knows he’s still living beside them more out of obligation than anything else. Lan Huan himself feels trapped behind the usual mask of politeness and fake smiles, his heart still bleeding for the loss of his two precious friends in the span of five years. Their uncle Lan QiRen well may have taken them in when they were mere children, stepping in to take care of them in place of their mourning father after losing his wife... but Lan Zhan knows his brother doesn’t want to disappoint their elder in any way.

Falling in love not once, but two times in a lifetime should not be frowned upon... but Lan QiRen couldn’t stomach the idea of one of his nephews falling for a man the first time, let alone the second. Just having said goodbye to Nie MingJue when they were mere teenagers after their uncle had prohibited him from meeting with his nephew, Lan Huan thought he could have another chance at happiness with Meng Yao in his twenties... just for the other man to fall ill and move country to look after himself. Ever since, Lan Huan has stopped believing in ever being able to find happiness for himself and decided to accept his fate and manage the temple like their uncle did for most of his life.

The idea of celibacy doesn’t sit well with Lan Zhan, not for himself and certainly not for his heartbroken brother, but life outside Gusu seems so far away and unapproachable. Without them the ancient tradition of working the loom to create seamless robes would perish and most of the profits from the temple would fall dry if not for their hard work. Their mother used to be a seamstress herself, teaching them how to weave without breaking the delicate thread, setting the rhythm of their hearts with her feet moving on the pedals as they watched her work her magic day after day. Their robes are still valued for their absolute perfection, even if nowadays they’re bound to be bought not by emperors or kings, but by celebrities and politicians who just want to boast their ego in front of cameras and flashing lights. The set Lan Zhan himself has been working on will take another three months to finish and on top of that he uses his spare time to make the ribbons they sell at the local gift shop while his brother prepares the traditional talismans by hand, his calligraphy as delicate as the products of their weaving.

As the nights of the local festival approach and they practice the rituals in full traditional gear more to appease the tourists than anything else, Lan Zhan feels getting more and more tired the longer he wears the long wig and the heavy robes himself, wishing his heart could stop being so ungrateful for the life he was entrusted with. But the news of a comet quickly approaching them brings the promise of change as Lan Zhan looks up at the sky and wishes he was born in a different body. Just for once. Just to live at least once in that existence of his.

[more under the cut]

Wei Ying is in university (engineering major), living with his brother Jiang Cheng (marine biology major) in their sister’s tiny ass apartment. They keep her company while she waits for baby Jin Ling to be born, ZiXuan working day and night in the hospital fresh out of med school to get their family a bigger house. Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng moved in from the tiny Yunmeng and secretly hate the big city life, but their studies come first and they didn’t want to leave YanLi alone while pregnant. Their parents are still working in the countryside and couldn’t properly care for her, living so far away in Lanling.

Wei Ying works part time in a bar and the usual routine is so rooted in his system that he doesn’t even care anymore. Study, eat, work, sleep. Rinse and repeat. He would like to think his brother has it easier than him, but he’s even more elusive than him, studying in the library until his night shift in an art gallery as a guard. The poor guy doesn’t even sleep, let alone have a social life. Spring has just begun and YanLi still has a trimester to go, her spirits low even if she loves her child very much already. Keeping her company and helping her leading a normal life is their priority as her brothers, but sometimes Wei Ying wishes things were easier.

He doesn’t really want to become an engineer, or, at least... he used to want that. But he’s more interested in actually making stuff instead of taking a hundred calculus classes per semester. He wishes he could enjoy his studies more and maybe get a girlfriend or boyfriend to pass the time, not that he believes in romance or anything. Commitment sounds scary.

One day he wakes up and... nah, he’s still dreaming. The ceiling is wrong, he doesn’t live in an old traditional cottage with a view on... wtf is that a mountain? Fuck that he doesn’t have time to waste, he has a test today. Studied hard enough last night he fell asleep on the desk... better start getting ready.

So he goes to the bathroom and showers, too tired to even open his eyes. But the shampoo smells all wrong, what even is sandalwood? And he doesn’t like mint toothpaste. And why are his clothes a size bigger? He doesn’t even own a button down, what in the...?

Who the fuck is that in the mirror??!?

On the other hand, Lan Zhan wakes up on a desk, drool on the books, late for a test an angry stranger reminds him he has to take in half an hour at best. He is presented with a soup his body mechanically ingests out of habit as he tries to politely nod to whatever the kind woman in front of him is saying. (“You look sick, are you really okay?” / “A-Jie stop babying him” / “But I’ve never seen him so... quiet?” / “He’s probably pretending so that he can skip his test.”) But if he really has given his word for such a commitment... maybe he should just go.

Still, he doesn’t remember going to any university. That may be a problem.

His body feels different, but he never paid attention to his reflection. They don’t even own mirrors back at home anyway. He doesn’t remember his hair reaching well over his ears and under his jaw. Should he consider asking his brother to cut it for him? It feels greasy, should he fix it or?

As he tucks a strand behind his ear he realizes something is terribly wrong. From the tip of his nose to the width of his shoulders, from the clothes he put on without even thinking. The window of the shop under the apartment he’s just left shows him a stranger that he cannot recognizes for the life of his.

And now some funny stuff:

(If you are not familiar with the movie, go watch it. But if you are you should be fine with the following list so... enjoy)

Jiang Cheng loves dogs, but Wei Ying is allergic and they cannot get a puppy... so he de-stresses at a local dog café whenever he can. Wen Qing works there even if she’s a cat person and comments on how he’s secretly planning to murder her so he can get her job. They’re good friends and dated for a while before Wen Qing understood her lesbianism was stronger and Jiang Cheng’s chaotic bisexuality was leaning more on the boy section of the partner store anyway. They bitch about everything and everyone anyway.

Lan Zhan (in Wei Ying’s body) manages to arrive in university and take the test, getting perfect scores even if Wei Ying’s never got such a high mark. For the rest of the day he roams Lanling in awe, believing it’s just a very nice dream. He also discovers the existence of pet bunnies in a pet store and his life changes.

Wei Ying (in Lan Zhan’s body) is a mess. Lan Huan immediately notices something is wrong, but he hasn’t really smiled in several months and whatever is happening to WangJi is extremely entertaining to him. He sees him skipping the morning prayers right in front of Lan QiRen’s salad (so to speak) and he doesn’t seem to remember the existence of their uncle’s punishing bamboo stick.

He also clearly never used a loom in his life, but luckily Lan QiRen is too busy to notice as he welcomes tourists in the temple and explains them the history behind it. Lan Huan takes “Lan Zhan” out for a stroll and they sit down as Lan QiRen’s mellow voice explains the legend of the weaver goddess and the importance of the artisanal work they still keep practicing to this day. Transfixed, “Lan Zhan” smiles big at his brother and Lan Huan knows for sure this is not his WangJi at all.

Wen Qing finds “Wei Ying” petting bunnies in the shop where her current girlfriend MianMian works and notices how... awfully quiet he is. She thinks he bombed the math test and might be sad, but he doesn’t seem to recognize her when she waves her hand at him. She then reminds him he should be getting ready for work and he blanches at the idea. Eventually asking her “where he’s supposed to depart for” and honest to the gods Wen Qing ends up convincing herself he’s high as fuck.

Imagine “Lan Zhan” being reprimanded by Lan QiRen for -gods forbid- laughing too loud? Asking for a beer at the local tea house? Saying out loud that he craves meat when he’s vegetarian? That’s just a dream for poor Wei Ying, whatever! He’s having a great time and Lan Huan is this close to lose it when they practice the traditional rites together and “Lan Zhan” doesn’t know how to put the long wig on anymore.

Now imagine “Wei Ying” not knowing how to use a shaker at work, or how to make a martini, or the fact that he and a boy named Wen Ning are actually coworkers and not strangers. He goes back home at 3am with the feeling he has forgotten something important, but when he finally (finally) finds his apartment he falls asleep on the doorway. Too drained by the city life to even change out of his uniform.

Next day there’s no switch: Wei Ying wakes up in his body by the doorway, with Jiang Cheng coming back from his night shift and panicking hard; Lan Zhan wakes up in his bed but he’s somewhat grounded at 20 for... drinking beer?

Technical stuff now!

Lan Zhan lives in 2010 and he is 20, Wei Ying lives in 2015 and he is 20.

It’s LXC who suggest his brother to keep a diary for his dreams if they get too crazy (later on it will be revealed something shocking about LXC, but for now the journaling is just a “suggestion”)

WWX and LWJ switch every other night or so, and things change when WWX wakes up in LWJ’s body and finds the diary.

They keep in touch with diaries [bc I don’t think LWJ would have a phone like...ever, but I digress]

WWX notices the two Jades of Gusu are kept outside of their peers’ circles because other people think their family is weird: they still use courtesy names; they don’t eat meat; most of their relatives are believed to have died in celibacy without actually being monks themselves; they don’t drink alcohol and are deemed unsociable... and so on.

But it’s when he overhears people bashing LXC for “his past with several boys” and for “running away from society like his father” that WWX (in LWJ’s body) actually loses it and starts a fistfight right then and there until those losers stop muttering behind their backs.

In the meantime, ZiXuan comes back home to surprise YanLi... and LWJ is there (in WWX’s body) and the younger man almost doesn’t let him enter bc he doesn’t know who this strange man is and what does he want from Jiang Cheng’s sister?

LWJ also follows JC to his night shift one day bc he’s never seen an art gallery (but apparently WWX often trails behind his younger step brother anyway, so JC doesn’t notice anything weird... aside from how quiet the other is)

JC then takes that opportunity to ask his brother (while LWJ inhabits said body) if... if he’s depressed and needs help [“Wen Qing saw you petting bunnies too many times for you to be ‘just fine’. You can talk to me.” / “it’s fine.” / “fuck that you’re not fine. Stop lying to me.” / “it’s just a transitional time for me, it will pass” / “who taught you such big words, what the fuck”] and then JC begrudgingly tells his brother than he loves him and doesn’t want him to be sad.

The next day WWX is back in his body and finds written down: “your brother tells me he loves you and that you should take better care of yourself” and WWX clowns the fuck out of JC the following day and JC is like “noPe. You’re fucking fine. Whatever, your fucking with me. You’re always fucking with me. Stupid of me to fucking care, gods forbid.”

LWJ starts developing feeling when he learns WWX defended Lan Huan + LWJ goes every night he can to the art gallery when he doesn’t have to work at the bar and learns there’s an entire section of the gallery dedicated to Gusu + but he doesn’t want to think about home for now, avoiding the exhibit, and so he learns more about JC and starts to think he would have lots of things to talk about with LXC.

Lan QiRen takes his nephews to their annual purification trip to Burial Mounds, to a cave hidden on the mountain where it is said the goddess met with her lover for the first time in the past. They leave their offerings and change the ropes securing the entrance of the cave with sturdier ones, which they have made themselves prior that year. It is said that whoever enters the cave will be granted a wish, so it’s responsibly of the Lan family to keep everyone else out until the lover of the goddess returns to be granted the wish to reunite with her. It’s a privilege the goddess has left for him to enjoy and no mortal should dare take that from him. Only those who wear the sacred headband of the Lan family can enter without being cast out of the cave and be forced to leave by the spirits.

WWX falls in love with LWJ a bit everyday: the little gifts and notes he finds on his desk for WWX to open and read every morning; the beautiful drawings LWJ makes of the mountains; the care he put in the white robes that should adorn a deity and not common human beings.

crushed with longing for WWX, LWJ wishes to meet with him one day (the real him) and so he runs away from Gusu on train and reaches Lanling and searches for him at the university. But he’s not there. He looks everywhere for him, but doesn’t find him. Until he stumbles into YanLi and it’s almost like there’s a wall between them: shocked, LWJ recognizes YanLi even if he knows she has never actually met him in real life; but the worst thing is that... she’s not pregnant. She’s not even at home as she usually is, but going to university herself and it doesn’t even seem like she’s even in a relationship with ZiXuan yet: the two of them not even sparing a glance to one another in the university corridors.

LWJ finds his words at long last, asking YanLi if her brother Wei Ying is well. She beams at him at first, elated to see her brother actually has friends outside of the family... “but you look around my age, right? What business do you have being friends with a fifteen year old boy anyway?”

Shocked, the last thing LWJ can do before leaving her alone is to give her a ribbon he made himself, the one that represents his heart. “I just know him by chance, he... he helped my brother once. I was wondering how to repay his kindness so I made this for him. Can you give it to him?”

That evening he goes back to Gusu and he prepares for the festival knowing the comet is coming. The last thing he wishes is to forget about Wei Ying, because -having realized there’s a discrepancy in timelines and that he has interacted with someone from the future for months now- he cannot possibly justify having developed feelings for a minor.

There are no more switches and WWX is left wondering what happened.

Now the sad part:

Under the weather for what happened, WWX follows JC around a lot and he even adopts a couple of bunnies to cope. YanLi is closer and closer to the due date and gets restless, forcing her brothers to clean up the entire apartment with her until everything sparkles for the baby’s arrival. They dig out an old box with all of YanLi’s stuff from university and LWJ’s ribbon appears out of nowhere. WWX immediately recognizes it for what it is.

[“I’m sorry A-Ying, I was supposed to give you this back then, but I forgot.” / “What are you taking about... why do you have a Gusu’s ribbon with you?” / “Ah, was your acquaintance from up there? He said you helped his brother once, or something like that... and he wanted to thank you. I’m really sorry.” / “How long ago was that A-Jie?” / “Five years or so? I think?”]

To this JC startles, saying that’s awfully weird, considering what happened to Gusu exactly five years prior. To which WWX is like ?pardon? and then JC takes them to the art gallery to the traditional art section, where the exhibit on Gusu is: there, WWX finally remembers how a relatively small rock has detached itself from the comet and destroyed Gusu in 2010 on the final day of the July festival.

On a display there, the siblings find one of the few things spared by the fire: an unfinished set of robes weaved with the precious heavenly silk, which was said to be made from the stars themselves.

Wei Ying cries all of his tears, neither JC or YanLi can console him and the only thing they come up with is that -maybe- their brother felt bad for forgetting to cherish a friendship... but they don’t remember if he had reacted so badly five years ago when the news of the fire at Gusu broke.

In the middle of the night, with the ribbon secured around his wrist, Wei Ying runs away and takes a train to Gusu. There are no more direct lines and he has to hike all the way up there... just to see a lake where the town was supposed to be. The crater so big it swallowed the ground where half of the city used to be.

Desperate, he wanders the mountains without knowing where to go, until his feet take him to the secluded path Uncle QiRen took him once. He follows it, noticing the same ribbons knotted around the trees he saw the first time he walked there. He follows the path and reaches the cave.

Inside, nothing happens. The talismans are still there, but -as he imagined (*eyeroll emoji*)- there’s no actual magic preventing him from entering. So he jumps over the white ropes made of ribbons and silk and gets inside the cave of Burial Mounds. He takes shelter there from the storm outside and thinks of Lan Zhan, of how much he misses him. And then he cries thinking about him and his brother and their uncle and the entire Gusu: because none of them deserved to die. And he wishes he can rewind time and save them all.

He faints in the cave and his wish is granted.

Now for the good part!

He wakes up in LWJ’s body (in 2010), the day after the boy’s impromptu trip to Lanling, the last day of the July festival. He gets to work as soon as he goes downstairs, determination painting his (well, LWJ’s) features to the point Lan Huan notices... and he has to say something.

While they ate breakfast, out of Lan QiRen’s sight, Lan Huan sits his “brother” down and tells him something unexpected: that he used to switch bodies with not one but with two people at the same time, NMJ and JGY.

That he managed to finally meet NMJ in their teens when the older boy came to Gusu for a school trip... but he didn’t want to leave bc he had finally found LXC and didn’t want to part ways. Lan QiRen put end to the older boy’s silly antics and the two friends agreed to meet in secret, before Lan Huan put a end to the relationship for fear of displeasing his uncle. The three friends kept switching bodies until one day they stopped.

Then Meng Yao came to find him and told him he had discovered the truth of what happened: that NMJ had a car accident and lost most of his memories of their years as friends and that now was living somewhere else with the woman he fell in love with. Meng Yao himself tried to live in Gusu for a few years afterwards, regardless of his poor health, eventually deciding to not make Lan Huan worry and disappeared without a word to take care of himself (or to die far away enough so that Lan Huan didn’t have to see him at his worst).

Lan Huan said that it took him years to remember their names and that he was able to finally utter them in front of his brother only the previous year, at the last July festival. He also reveals WWX that trying to remember something so simple caused him great pain, to the point he believed he could let himself die that way, starving himself from human connection.

Impressed and sorrowful, WWX cries for him and wishes things were different for Lan Huan, who’s only 23 and yet had suffered more than anyone else. But Lan Huan is content with what he has, even if he feels guilty for being the reason Meng Yao neglected his health. Yet he’s happy for NMJ and doesn’t regret befriending them at all.

With his help, WWX alerts people in Gusu: LXC finally standing up for himself against their uncle in order to gain his respect and convince him of the emergency at hand.

On the other hand, LWJ wakes up in the cave in WWX’s body (in 2015) and doesn’t know why he’s there. Yet he knows the way out and travels back following the ribbons... but when he reaches Gusu he sees there’s only a crater filled with water and doesn’t know what to do. He knows of the time discrepancy between the two realities, but he doesn’t know what to think.

WWX realizes LWJ must be in his body somewhere on the Burial Mounds, from the top of which Gusu can be seen, but he doesn’t know if he would find his own body in the cave, since the year now is 2010 and WWX reached the cave by himself only in 2015. Yet something tells him to go and so he leaves for the mountain.

On top of the Burial Mounds, he doesn’t find anyone.

But Lan Zhan is there, on the other side of the veil between present and future.

And as the light of the sun fades away and dusk approaches, Wei Ying enters his body and Lan Zhan gets back inside his own. They meet for the first time and Wei Ying doesn’t know what to say, having never seen Lan Zhan’s body from outside and feeling suddenly very self conscious and uninteresting.

To which Lan Zhan responds with “are you legal?” / “what the fuck Lan Zhan.” / “I gave you my ribbon. did you receive it?” / “yes, my... my sister gave it to me like, yesterday.” / “yesterday as in... what year?” / “2015”

And then Lan Zhan kisses the hell out of him because nothing screams romanticism to him like a relationship between two contenting adults and Wei Ying gets blissed out of his pants for that single kiss on the spot. In between kisses Wei Ying tries to convince Lan Zhan to stop, that there’s something they should remember... or at least something they should not forget.

But Lan Zhan does not relent, hugging and holding Wei Ying, finally... finally keeping him close and never letting him go.

Until Wei Ying disappears and the only thing left of him is the white ribbon Lan Zhan has given him.

They forgot to write their names, so that they would not forget them like LXC has done for years.

And finally.....!

years have passed, it’s the beginning of 2020 [sans quarantine, thank you] and Wei Ying has graduated and is looking for a job. He doesn’t remember Lan Zhan.

Jiang Cheng has found a job close to the sea at the local aquarium and the only thing he talks about on the phone is “how useless his new intern is. a nobody late bloomer who discovered the mountain wasn’t for him and decided to study in the opposite direction, go figure. Gusu must have bored him alright. but the other day he reminded me mountains are actually ancient reefs and now I think I’m in love.” So all is well.

(Gusu did not fall and everyone was evacuated in time. Lan Zhan had descended the mountain and made sure his brother got his backup in convincing their uncle of the emergency. He doesn’t remember either, but he always keeps his ribbon on his wrist, feeling like he’s waiting for someone to get it back.)

On a snowy night they cross paths on a pedestrian bridge, but don’t recognize each other... until Wei Ying’s scent of lotus reaches Lan Zhan. But the other has already disappeared behind a corner of the ever busy Lanling and they miss each other once again.

The following day, when Wei Ying has just dropped Jin Ling at his kindergarten and is about to cross a road, he sees a familiar face on the other side of the street. Both of them are talking to the phone: Wei Ying to Jiang Cheng, who’s calling him from a toilet, panicking about his first date with the intern; and Lan Zhan with his brother Lan XiChen, who’s waiting for his date to come back from the bathroom in the restaurant they chose to meet at.

As they walk towards each other they sense something, but don’t stop. Until they have now reached their respective sides of the road and realize what just happened. They turn around, but there are too many cars in between them.

They look for a way to meet and run towards a pedestrian bridge right above the road. They make the steps two at a time until they’re out of breath on top and stare at each other after so long. Wei Ying has lived for five years feeling like half of him was missing, but Lan Zhan had spent twice as long waiting for something to change in his life.

(“I’m still legal, you know?” / “That’s the first thing you decide to tell me after ten years? Really?” / “you thought it was romantic last time” / “what’s that supposed to mean?” / “that you should kiss me right the fuck now, you big oaf.”)

They meet in the middle of the bridge and kiss.

Then, Lan Zhan tilts his head and ask “what was you name again?”, clearly amused, and waits until Wei Ying’s laughter resonates all around.

The fucking end.

Now I need a break.

#mdzs #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #cql #the forbidden crack! untamed prompts #mdzs/au: manga/anime inspired #mdzs/au: kimi no na wa

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bow-woahh · 5 years ago

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heyoo! i just want to discuss the latest season of She-ra bc boy many things happened and i have hella feelings about it. namely, i'm both terrified and impressed with the direction they took Catra this season. same with Adora - who was starting to feel like the preachy overpowered main hero - but got humanized a lot this season in her search for her origins. and after a relatively tame arc for glimmer and bow, they're really just gonna throw dark magic and a dead mom at her? like damn

Hiii! And yeah, i too have a lot a feelings, so let's discuss them through your feelings!

Firstly, I totally agree with the comment about Catra. I've talked a lot about the direction I think she's heading in in other posts, but LEMME be honest and say I was also very terrified/impressed with Catra this season.

After the end of Season 2, I thought it'd make the most sense for Catra to start her "redemption" of sorts after Hordak like...you know, suffocating her.

That did NOT happen. And I'm glad, because that would of been too predictable, and really, she still wanted to prove she was a capable leader who could defeat the rebellion and Adora, like that isn't going to just go away, even if Hordak was going to ship her of to beast island.

This season made a lot of sense for Catra, is what I'm trying to say, because now, she can truly realise how self destructive and power driven she's become.

With Adora, I personally have never felt that way, especially because she's constantly had this anxiety of Catra coming after her (which was highlighted in S2 E4 - Roll With It) and has been told by people like Light Hope how she needs to essentially just let go of her emotional baggage (Catra being apaer of that ofc).

But, I do see what you mean, as this season really did humble Adora as a character, seeing as she found out that she isn't even from this planet, which is bound to mess you up.

And lastly – yeah, Glimmer just got her weave snatched this season! I honestly have no clue what's going to happen with her, I saw a post theorising that she might become a "villain" and I think that it actually makes sense. Obviously she's gonna have a lot ahead of her. The grief, ruling the kingdom, and now Shadow Weaver to deal with, who can only be a bad influence like let's be honest here there's NO WAY she's hair "good" now. She's still the same morally messed up person lol.

Anyway that's all I've got to say here is the post I mentioned btw:

POST LINK

#asks #answered #spop asks #micahs asks #spop #spop s3 spoilers #she ra catra #she ra adora #glimmer #adora #catra #she ra and the princesses of power #meta #ig?#kinda meta #she ra glimmer #shadow weaver

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bunastudio · 4 years ago

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Fabric Lores: Chanderi

Often, the greatest stories dwell, waiting to be told and heard in the smallest of regions. In one such town, geographically tiny but historically of great importance lives a story that has been alive for centuries – that of the birth of Chanderi. From mentions in Rig Veda and Mahabharata to continued love for it throughout the Mughal era, later with the Scindias, and now in almost every other sari lover’s collection, Chanderi’s old soul continues to thrive in virtuoso hearts and the legend lives on in weaver villages. Home to historic monuments like the Bada Mahal Gate, the majestic Chanderi Fort, the Khooni Darwaza, nevertheless Chanderi town’s real claim to fame lies in its namesake fabric that puts it on the global map.

Several legends and tales of the birth of the royal fabric have captured public imagination. Legend has it that Lord Krishna’s cousin Shishupala, a member of the Chedi kingdom, which fell in the Bundelkhand division of Madhya Pradesh, was the first one to introduce the fabric. Some ancient records hold proof that the heartland of the country (Madhya Pradesh) was a weaving centre between 7th and 2nd century BC. By 11th century, it had risen to the status of a prominent trading centre due to its proximity to major ancient arterial routes. The 12th and 13th centuries had the royalty having the regal fabric being handwoven for them by mostly Muslim weavers. As the Mughals expanded their hold over the Indian sub continent, the love for the fabric reached peaks too. The mention of Chanderi fabric can also be traced in Maasir-i-Alamgiri written by Saqi Mustad Khan, a history of Emperor Aurangzeb that claims that the emperor ordered an expensive, soft & transparent cloth embroidered with gold and silver for making a robe. Pagdis and dhotis for the royal men were often made with Chanderi, the fabric of the royals. Further, records have solidified the fact that because of its sheerness, the fabric was a favourite among royal women and men in the 18th century and was even exported overseas.

Whatever be its origins, the tradition and craft of Chanderi hand weaving is up and alive. The demand and love for it is ever growing as more and more Indian designers go sustainable and rediscover traditional Indian crafts. The charm of the lustrous surface melting into gold and silver, the diaphanous quality, the subtle shine and soft grainy texture are just some of the reasons for its popularity. Besides, the fabric continues to receive royal patronage. Rajmata Shubhangini Raje Gaekwad often elegantly poses in a Chanderi saree for pictures, her daughter in law, Radhika Raje Gaekwad echoes her style in equally stunning Chanderis and poses with poise. In fact on the occasion of World Saree Day, Radhika could not resist from posting her picture in a zari, tissue Chanderi saree, one of the exquisite pieces from the collection of their own label Shubhanginiraje.

The women of the Gaekwad dynasty (of Baroda) have since long celebrated the spirit of Chanderi. Rajmata has played her own significant role in preserving the essence of the royal fabric. Since 2003, she has been hosting Chanderi sari exhibitions in Mumbai along with her daughter in law who calls herself a ‘textile revivalist’, to resurrect the regal heritage. The gloss and translucence wrapped around the royals has extensively been captured by Raja Ravi Varma in his depictions when he was invited by Maharaja Sayaji Rao II to paint portraits of the Gaekwad men and women. Like the Gaekwads, the modern royals, the Scindias too are better known for their role in Chanderi preservation and revivalism since early 20th century with Scindia women donning Chanderi saris.

But what lies behind perfecting this craft of royal wear is generations of skills preserved and passed down. Pure silk, chanderi cotton and silk cotton are its three main types that have been since ages adorned with simple motifs of coins, peacocks, fruits, flowers, and other forms of flora and fauna and more recently with abstract designs. At Buna, our Chanderi travels from the heartland of India, from its very source, Chander town, crafted by the Chanderi weavers that put their decades aged expertise into the creation of each masterpiece. We believe in contemporizing traditional crafts by creating postmodern designs and a minimal vibe. The techniques remain old but the results are new and fresh. For embellishing the royal fabric, nature dons its inspiration on our minds, and takes form as motifs like the booti inspired by a drop of rain.

In earlier times, the fabric was luxuriously woven with a very fine handspun yarn to preserve its grace and airy quality. Common weave patterns included dandidar border, ashrafi booti, chatai or ganga jamuni. The shimmer in its texture is born as silk and zari is woven together in a cotton yarn, while the bootis and motifs are the results of hand weaving with different needles depending on the motifs. The creation that comes out after the intricate craftsmanship is a sight to behold and speaks volumes about the rich Indian heritage. If MP is the heartland of India, Chanderi - its heartbeat. In an era that demands voice for what is one’s own, it is time to pay homage to India, the land of indigo, khadi, Chanderi and the richest textiles stories from around the world. Source:- Fabric Lores: Chanderi

#Chanderi #chanderisarees #chanderisilk #chanderisuit #chanderi weavers #chanderidresses #dresses #handmade dress #Fabric Lores #designer clothing #latest design dress

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tipsycad147 · 5 years ago

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ATHENA: Guardian of Civilisation

http://creativedust.com

By ~ Aethyia ~

ORIGINS

While Athena may be best known as one of the Olympian Goddesses of Greece, there is ample evidence to suggest that Her worship is far older than the Olympians and ranged far beyond the shores of Greece. While She is often described simply as a Goddess of War, Her actual nature is far more complex. In many ways, we will see that She has evolved alongside humanity, continuing even to the present day to be a vital source of Wisdom.

HER ORIGIN AND PRESENCE IN VARIOUS CULTURES

The many tales of the Wisdom Goddess' long life are quite diverse. There are a number of theories about Her origin. There are some scholars who identify Her evolution by examining Her symbols. Marija Gimbutas is foremost in this approach. Scholars of this type tend to see Athena’s origin as widespread throughout the Mediterranean and the spread of Her worship and the changes in Her imagery, a result of evolution.

There are others, like Robert Graves, who, rely upon the historical documents of authors such as Herodotus and Plato. These see the spread of Her worship as having occurred as a result of migrations and interactions of tribes of people.

There are also those writers, such as Norma Lorre Goodrich who believe that Athena is the Goddess of a patriarchal culture which merged the identities of a number of Goddesses into one who is ultimately their own creation.

What is particularly interesting about Athena is that there are also those who perceive Her as still playing an active role in the spiritual lives of humanity, in a manner that is quite different from her earlier mythos. In this role, writers such as Helena Blavatsky and Christopher Penczak, identify Her not only as Goddess and also as an Ascended Master; a guiding force for Light workers and Theosophists.

Marija Gimbutas identifies Athena’s presence in the world as early as the Neolithic-Chalcolithic era. During this early incarnation, she appeared as the Bird Goddess: "borne in the womb of mythical water...the primordial element." This imagery may remind us of many other tales of the origin of life, in which the divine element rises above the waters of chaos, Her spirit soaring, ready to create.

From the primitive past, Athena evolved yet maintained an aspect of Her earlier self. Marija Gimbutas writes: "Athena; the bird-form has been shed but Athena is occasionally winged and the bird is her attribute. She sometimes appears in the semblance of a sea eagle, a gull, a swallow, a vulture, or a dove."

Athena is particularly identified with the Owl. She is frequently seen in ancient sculptures and in mythic tales with Her Owl. This association is also found in one of Her many titles: Athena Glaukopis. This title has layers of meaning. Glau is generally translated as “gleaming” (and sometimes grey or bluish grey) and Ops is translated as “eyes”, giving us the meaning: Goddess with the Gleaming Eyes. But Glaux is also the word for Owl and so we might think of Her as Owl Eyes, the Wise One who can see Truth in the Darkness.

Another aspect of Athena that links Her with the far distant past is Her very strong association with snakes. If we look at art work depicting Athena we find that She is almost always accompanied by or adorned with snakes. In some cases She is frequently seen wearing a gown of living snakes; holding a spear around which snakes are entwined or carrying a shield upon which one or more snakes are drawn.

Marija Gimbutas sees a relationship between the two sets of imagery, of bird and snake. She writes: "Is this imagery not an inheritance from a deeper antiquity, from times when the cosmic Bird Goddess has as her counterpart a Cosmic Snake?"

Athena's snake symbolism is represented in Her temples. Buffie Johnson examined the language of symbols in two of Athena’s temples; one in Mycenaean Knossos, where she was known as Potnia Atana and the other in Athens (allegedly built due to her gift of the olive tree). She informs us that in both temples we find: "the same cluster of symbols found later in Genesis: woman, tree and serpent. Athena herself is the goddess of wisdom and so it makes sense that the problem in Eden revolves around a tree of knowledge"

Though many writers of Classical Greece inform us that Athena was born of the head of Zeus, there are also those who questioned the true origin of their Goddess. The philosopher Plato (429 - 347 BC) suggested that Athena was originally known as Neith, a multi-faceted Goddess of Egypt, worshipped since the Pre-dynastic period. But Neith was said to have originated in Libya. There are many writers who identify Athena's origin as North African. Martin Bernal proposes that the worship of Neith/Athena was imported from Egypt to Greece in the third/second millennia.

Robert Graves proposes that the worship of Athena was brought from North Africa to Crete as early as 4000 BC. He suggests a complex origin, from both Libya and Egypt and proposes that Her name was derived from Anna, or Ath-anna, an inversion of Anatha, another name for Neith.

In the White Goddess, Robert Graves relates various stories of Her life as a Goddess in Libya, worshipped in a culture that honoured the female warrior. This association with the Amazon culture of North Africa is shared by both Neith and Athena, and there are other scholars who support the idea that Athena was at one time worshipped by Amazons. (9) (10) A commonly told tale of the origin of Her name - Pallas Athena- is that she once had a constant companion named Pallas. One day the two young women were practising their fighting skills and Athena accidentally killed Her friend. She grieved deeply and added Pallas' name to Her own so that she would never be forgotten.

Graves also suggests that according to even earlier accounts, Athene was a Sea Goddess, worshipped in Libya and Cyprus. Graves provides a variety of theories, which may indicate Athena's connection to the Sea. Athena, for example, is associated with Lake Triton. In one account, Graves reports, Athena is the daughter of Triton, a sea god. In another she is the daughter of the Sea Goddess Amphitrite. In other accounts she is the daughter or even consort of Poseidon. Graves suggests that Poseidon became a sea god when he conquered the Peloponnese and the Gulf of Corinth and married the Sea Goddess, Amphitrite, who is also an incarnation of the moon. Graves states that Amphitrite is one of Athena's many titles. While these various theories of Her origin may be confusing, they establish Athena as a very ancient Goddess of the Mediterranean.

Both Patricia Moynihan and Charlene Spretnak agree that Athena was worshipped in Crete. Moynihan describes Athena as a household goddess, "the essence of the family bond, symbolised by the home and its hearth (who) by further extrapolation..was the symbol of the community itself, the larger social unit based on countless homes".

Spretnak describes her role as far more significant. She points out Athena's role as an inventor of various tools and the teacher of weaving, architecture, music, and various household arts. (Athena's association with weaving is widespread - from Crete to Egypt - and may explain her association with that other famous weaver: Arachne. )

Spretnak also informs us that the base of Athena's worship existed among the matrifocal peoples of the Peloponnese, as well as, Argos, Aparta, Troy, Smyrna, Epidaurus, Troezen and Pheneus.

In later years, these matrifocal tribes would be conquered by a more patriarchal culture, but their Goddess would survive. Her ancient origin would be hidden, for in the new ruling culture, all must be subordinate to the king, particularly the king of the Gods: Zeus.

Athena's story was re-written by the Hellenic Greeks, yet hints that Her origin is far older than the Olympian Pantheon, remain embedded in the tale. Norma Lorre Goodrich reminds us of the writings of Hesiod (circa 700 BC). Hesiod wrote that Athena was conceived parthenogenically by Metis, the Titan Wisdom Goddess. (15) Zeus feared that her child would be greater than he and so he swallowed Metis. Athena was born of Metis, though still inside Zeus. Zeus' head began to pound (as well it should). He called upon Hephaestus to split his head open and Athena leapt out free and fully armoured. (16) She is not a product of Her father; She is the survivor of an earlier age.

https://greekmythology.wikia.org

ATHENA’S MANY ROLES

In the art of Classical Greece and Rome, we can easily identify Her, by Her helmet and spear, so we tend to associate Her foremost as a Goddess of War. If we read of Her, however, in the tales of Hellenic Greece we find that She was not a Goddess of the battlefield as much as she was a wise and cunning counsellor of warriors and heroes. She helps Odysseus return to his home. She comforts and advises Hercules (see figure 9) throughout his accomplishment of the Twelve Labours.

Athena also leads Theseus to Amphitrite, to obtain the golden ring.It is suggested by Erich Neumann that this tale demonstrates the Goddess' power to initiate the male, suggestive of her earlier sovereignty.

Of course, we also remember that Athena helped Perseus slay Medusa. One might wonder how myths are born and if this last tale was created to explain why Athena is seen so frequently with the head of Medusa upon Her breast. If we consider that Athena was worshipped by the same matrifocal peoples who were later conquered by the Dorian Greeks, it may be that there is a far older explanation, one that was forgotten by the patriarchal tellers of this tale. In Buffie Johnson's Lady of the Beasts, we find the suggestion that the "Gorgon's mask stood for the moon, others saw her as Athena's double... She may well personify Athena's dark side, since Medusa represents the chthonic power of the Great Goddess in the underworld". (20) In figure 11, we see the Medusa upon Athena's breast and her gown adorned with snakes.

In the complex world of Classical Greece, Athena was a multi-dimensional Goddess. She was worshipped as the Goddess of Wisdom, Arts and Crafts. She was Athena Polias, Protector of the City . (21) She was known as Athena Agoraia (the marketplace), Athena Agripha (of agriculture), Athena Hygeia (the healer), Athena Axiopoinas (the wise judge) and Athena Aristobulo who gives wise counsel.

Athena, we find, is not associated with the primal force of nature, as is Gaia, or of the elemental powers, as is her rival, Poseidon. Anne Baring and Jules Cashford, write: “Poseidon provides the horse, while Athena bridles it and builds the chariot; Poseidon rules the waves, while Athena constructs the ship that rides them…Her gift is not the salt spring gushing upwards from the depths of the earth, as is Poseidon’s, but the carefully cultivated olive, whose oil was the prize at her festival” Athena is the Goddess who walks with humanity, guiding us in the varied tasks that make up our lives.

Athena inspired people in many lines of work: drama, literature, music, art, weaving, architecture, building, medicine, law, government, business, architecture, and so on.

To the philosophers, She was intelligence itself and their special muse. Plato, in particular was devoted to Athena and wrote:

That is a graver matter, and there, my friend, the modern interpreters of Homer may, I think, assist in explaining the view of the ancients. For most of these in their explanations of the poet, assert that he meant by Athena "mind" [nous] and "intelligence" [dianoia], and the maker of names appears to have had a singular notion about her; and indeed calls her by a still higher title, "divine intelligence" [Thou noesis], as though he would say: This is she who has the mind better than others. Nor shall we be far wrong in supposing that the author of it wished to identify this Goddess with moral intelligence [en ethei noesin], and therefore gave her the name ethonoe; which, however, either he or his successors have altered into what they thought a nicer form, and called her Athena.(24)

One of the stories of Athena that demonstrates Her gift of intelligence to humanity is from Ovid. According to Ovid, Prometheus created the first people from clay and Athena infused Her spirit into them, awakening their minds

Athena, in the role of co-Creatrix of humanity, is recognised in the writings of modern Theosophical writers. Helena Blavatsky describes Her as "the mother of manasputric kumaras", meaning that Athena divided her energy, creating spiritual entities which infused and endowed human beings with intelligence.

EVOLVING AND CONTINUING PRESENCE

Zeus may have been right to have feared that the child of Metis would become greater than he, for Athena has continued to be a force in our evolution. Her image is found decorating universities, academic organisations , government buildings, the state seal of California, even money! A town is named for Her in Oregon. In Tennessee, Her Parthenon has been reconstructed.

Operation Athena is the name for Canada's role in the current conflict in Afghanistan. Their goal is: " to leave Afghanistan to Afghans, in a country that is better governed, more peaceful and more secure." May Athena provide them with the necessary Wisdom to accomplish such a Herculean task….but then that is a speciality of Hers.

hough Christianity would later replace the old religion and the worship of the Goddess would seem abandoned, the memory of Holy Sophia, enthroned and winged, continues into the modern era. Her worship has been restored by Neo-Pagans. She is invoked by Lightworkers and Theosophists.

Athena continues to be recognised as both Goddess and spiritual mentor. She is considered a vital part of the evolution of humanity by many Theosophists. One famous Theosophist, Alice Bailey, identifies Athena as a member of the Karmic Board. To many light workers, Athena is an Ascended Master and Guide who can be invoked for guidance and protection.

Christopher Penczak, in Ascension Magick, reports that, “Pallas Athena can be called upon in all matters of wisdom, intelligence and ingenuity. Though a great warrior, she learned how not to fight when it was not necessary, and how to use diplomacy, intelligence and strategy to defeat one’s enemy.”

The Goddess of Wisdom continues to communicate Her gifts to many spiritual seekers. My own journey to discovery of the true nature of Athena began when I received a reading from a minister of the New York Spiritualist Church. This meditative experience revealed to me a Being of Light, Wisdom, Protection and Guidance. I find that when I open my spirit to communicate with Her, I am filled with Peace.

SYMBOLS OF THE GODDESS

The following information was found on: www.goddessgift.com website. General Symbolism: The Sun, a golden shield (frequently adorned with snakes or Medusa), helmet, spear (two snakes sometimes wrapped around the spear, suggestive of the caduceus), the Parthenon, the Seven Auras and the number 7.

Animals: Owls, Doves, Sea Eagles, Snakes, Rams (remember the Golden Fleece), Tigers, Leopards and other Cats.(And let's not forget Pegasus!)

Plants Olives, Olive Trees, Citrus Trees, Oak, Cypress, Geranium, Tiger Lilly and Hellbore (Christmas/Lenten Roses)

Scents Patchouli, musk and orange blossom, cinnamon, cedar wood and dragon's blood.

Gems and Metals Lapis Lazuli, Star Sapphire, Turquoise, Onyx and Ruby. Also, Gold and Ivory.

Colours: Gold, Orange, Yellow, Emerald Green and Indigo or Royal Blue. (I would also add a blend of Gold and silver Light).

HER FESTIVALS

Herodotus describes many rituals of the rituals that honoured Athena. For my ritual (below) I was inspired by two that he described.

The first was in Plynteria, the Feast of Adorning was observed every May for 5 days. During this time the priestesses washed and purified themselves, their sanctuary, the statue of Athena and her clothing.

The second was celebrated in Sais. The people celebrated the Feast of Lamps. They created oil lamps (saucers filled with oil and salt) and burned

these throughout the night, filling the whole city with light.

Preparations:

The altar should also be cleaned and prepared ahead of time.

v Altar cloth: Athena's colours are solar (gold, orange), emerald or indigo/dark blue. (I used a dark blue cloth)

v Candles: 5 white or gold candles, placed in the four directions and in the centre.

v Incense: cedar.

v A bowl with orange water.

v For the feast: bread with crushed olives and wine/ juice (I prefer juice) and an offering bowl.

v candle snuffer

v Possible images of Athena: a statue or pictures of Athena, Her owl, snake or other totems.

Bathing: Bath oil and/or soap with one of her scents, perhaps patchouli and orange.

During the bath use an affirmation such as "By the Light of Athena, I am purified in all ways". (speak to Athena about the planned ritual)

Dressing: If possible use Athena's colours. and if possible wear jewellery that includes her gems: Lapis Lazuli, Star Sapphire, Turquoise, Onyx and Ruby.

CAST THE CIRCLE

Using wand or athame.

PURIFICATION

Cedar is one of Athena's scents and is good for purifying the circle. Light some cedar incense, saying, By the light of Athena this space has been purified.

BLESSING THE CIRCLE

Light the candle in the centre: Athena, Goddess of Light Eternal. Bless this circle in Wisdom and Peace. In light I create the temple of the Goddess.

Cast the circle with light! Walk around the circle with the candle (keep it in its holder so that it can be placed on the altar easily). Chanting: In light I create the temple of the Goddess.

Having cast the circle: The circle is cast. The temple is established, blessed in the Light of Wisdom and Peace.

Light the candle in the East (using the central candle): In Light I create the temple of the Goddess. Facing East invoke one of the images of Athena: I call upon Minerva, Goddess of the Dawn and Emerging Light. Bless this circle with the power of air. Bless my mind with your insight.

When ready to proceed, use the central candle to light the candle in the South: In Light I create the temple of the Goddess.

Invoke Neith: I call upon you Ancient Neith, Great Pythoness of Prophecy! Bless this circle with the power of fire. Fill my spirit with your Truth.

Proceed with the central candle to the West and lighting that candle again say: In Light I create the temple of the Goddess. In the West invoke Sulis: I call upon you Sweet Sulis, Power of Purification, bless this circle with the power of water. Heal me of dis-ease and negativity.

Continue to the North and light that candle, saying once again: In Light I create the temple of the Goddess Facing the North say: I call upon you, Hagia Sophia, whose holy presence has blessed the earth for millennia. Bless this circle with the power of Earth's Resilience and Creativity.

Return to the centre and invoke Athena:

THE INVOCATION OF THE GODDESS

I am the light of the ages

I am the gift of awakening

I am the plan for she who leads

I am the guide for she who seeks

I am the muse for she who creates

I am comfort for she who mourns

I am salve for she who must heal

I am courage for she who despairs

I am rejuvenation for she who is weary

I am inspiration for she who brings peace

I am the shield for she who takes a stand

I am vision for she who must know

I am the mentor for she who would be wise

SELF-BLESSING

(using orange water - anoint crown)

Bless me Great Athena with Your Awakening

(anoint inner eye)

Bless my eyes with Vision

(anoint throat)

Bless my throat with Truth

(anoint heart)

Bless my heart with your Understanding

(anoint belly)

Bless my body with your Strength

(anoint feet)

Bless my journey with your Guidance

(anoint hands)

Bless my work with your Inspiration

RAISING THE CONE OF POWER

(Breathing deeply, I use my consciousness to raise the energy in my body. Energy of the Earth rises into my feet, up into my legs, up into the trunk of my body, up the spine, shoulders, arms, throat, head, up to the crown to reach upwards. This breathing exercise charges my body with energy and opens my third eye. I begin to journey to Athena. I reach Her temple. I visualise my connection to Her. I merge with Her.)

THE FEAST

Holding the plate of bread and crushed olives and the cup of juice, I say: Beloved Athena, infuse these offerings with your strength and your love. I place a piece of bread in the offering bowl and pour in a little grape juice. What I have received I shall freely give. And then I eat and drink and ground myself.

OPENING THE CIRCLE

Thank the Goddesses.

Then with candle snuffer in hand and saying: The temple of the Goddess remains within me, extinguish the candles.

Finally: using athame or wand, open the circle.

Notes1. Gimbutas, Marija, The Goddesses and Gods of Old Europe: Myths and Cult Images, (University of California Press:Berkley, CA., 1982), p. 95.

2. Ibid., p. p 148-149.

3. Henry George Liddell, Robert Scott, 1940, A Greek-English Lexicon, ISBN 0-19-864226-1, online version at the Perseus Project. Henry George Liddell, Robert Scott, 1940, A Greek-English Lexicon, ISBN 0-19-864226-1, online version at the Perseus Project.

4. Gimbutas, Marija, p. 148

5. Johnson, Buffie, Lady of the Beasts: The Goddess and Her Sacred Animals, (Inner Traditions: Rochester, Vt., 1994), p.156.

6. Graves, Robert, The Greek Myths, (Penquin Books, London, UK,1992), Chapter 8 pp. 44-45.

7. Bernal, Martin, Black Athena: The Afroasiatic Roots of Classical Civilization (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1987), 21, 51–53.

8. Graves, Robert, The White Goddess, (Farrar, Strauss, and Groux: New York, NY), p. 371. (Also, found in The Greek Myths, Chapter 8.)

9. Wilde, Lyn Webster, On the Trail of the Women Warriors: The Amazons in Myth and History, (St. Martin's Press: New York, NY,2000), p. 32 and p. 96.

10. Salmonson, Jessica Amanda, The Encyclopedia of Amazons, (Paragon House: New York, 1991) See Athena, Gorgons, Medusa.

11. Graves, Robert, The White Goddess, pp. 218, 351-353, 360-361, 371.

12.Ibid, p. 360.

13.Monaghan, Patricia, The New Book of Goddesses and Heroines, (Llewellyn Publications: St. Paul, MN), pp. 59-60.

14.Spretnak, Charlene, Lost Goddesses of Early Greece, (Moon Books, Berkley, CA, 1978), pp. 90-95.

15. Lorre Goodrich, Norma, Priestess, (Franklin Watts: New York, 1989) p 171.

16.Graves, Robert, The Greek Myths, ( Penguin Books, London, UK, 1992) Chapter 8.

17. Ibid. Chapter 171.

18.Graves, Robert, The Greek Myths, Chapter 134.

19.Neumann, Erich, The Great Mother, (Princeton University: Princeton, NY, 1974.) p325

20. Johnson, Buffie, p. 152

21.Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheke, 3.14.6.

22. http://www.goddessaday.com/greek/athena

23. Baring, Anne and Cashford, Jules, The Myth of the Goddess: Evolution of an Image, (ARKANA/Penquin Books, London, UK, 1993), p. 338

24. Plato, Cratylus, 407b

25. Babcock, Michael, Susan Seddon Boulet: The Goddess Paintings, (Pomegranate Books: San Francisco, CA, 1994), pp. 32-33.

26. Graves, Robert, The Greek Myths, 4 b. "...as yet, there were no ((mortal men until, with the consent of the goddess, Athene, Prometheus...formed them in the likeness of gods. He used clay and water...and Athene breathed life into them."

27. http://www.blavatskyarchives.com/Manasa-Putra

28. Found on^ a b "Phi Delta Theta International - Symbols". phideltatheta.org.

29. http://www.cefcom.forces.gc.ca/pa-ap/ops/athena/index-eng.asp

30. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanat_Kumara#Sanat_Kumara_also_a_manifestation_of_the_Spirit_of_the_Earth_and_the_Solar_Logos

31.http://www.ascension-research.org/athena

32. Penczak, Christopher, Ascension Magick: Ritual, Myth, and Healing for the New Aeon, (Llewellyn Publications: Woodbury, MN, 2007), p. 164.

33. www.goddessgift.com

34. Herodotus, The Histories, (Everyman Press: VT,) pp. 148-149.

http://www.orderwhitemoon.org/goddess/Athena/athena.htm

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bonduniversity · 6 years ago

Text

What’s the difference between Occupational Therapy and Physiotherapy?

Professor Susan Brandis is the Head of Program, Master of Occupational Therapy at Bond. Here, she answers one of the most frequently asked questions about Occupational Therapy.

The two most common questions that Occupational Therapists get asked is firstly “What is that?” and “how is that different from physiotherapy?”

Both Physiotherapy and Occupational Therapy (OT) have very ancient beginnings, and are sibling professions that share many similarities in history. This in part explains some of the confusion between the two, yet today both are separately recognised registered health practitioners requiring many years of training including University level qualifications.

The principles of both professions were around in Ancient Greece. In 460 BC Hippocrates promoted the use of manual manipulation and massage for pain relief. The health benefits of exercise, movement and massage have been used for thousands of years in ancient Egypt, China and Persia. Occupational Therapy too has been evolving for centuries. As early as 100BC Greek Physicians used music, work and leisure activities to improve daily living. This was particularly successful in the humane treatment of the mentally unwell. Unfortunately by medieval times this approach had been forgotten and people with mental health problems were treated very badly and locked up as prisoners. By the 18th century a new method of treatment named “moral treatment and occupation” was emerging and OTs became active in the Arts and Crafts movement. From a physical perspective, gymnastics, massage, manipulation and exercise were gathering momentum as a way to treat a variety of health conditions. Exercise and sport were also becoming activities leading to injuries.

The philosophy underpinning both physiotherapy and OT have waxed and waned over the centuries; however it was the World Wars of the early 20th century that truly propelled these approaches into the professions we know today.

Physios and OTs worked together as “reconstruction aides” to help the wounded returning soldiers put their lives back together after World War one. The first OTs served near the front lines in France, and provided therapy to physically sound men with war neurosis to return to the battle fields as soon as possible. While OTs focused on functional activities and important occupations of the time such as such as wood work, type setting and weaving; physios developed skills in the rehabilitation of soldiers with physical disabilities such as lower limb amputations and mobility disorders. Occupation was used as a means (of distraction) and as an end (vocational and therapeutic benefit). A number of training programs emerged, with students advised that “appointments will be given only to women between the ages of 25 and 40, of good personality, good health and physical vigor” (1).

Over time physio has had a core focus on mobility, physical development and ability and the use of a variety of modalities such as exercise, manipulation and massage. OT has a core focus on occupation and the use of functional activities to restore a person to their full potential in the areas of work, leisure and self-care. Both professions aim to improve quality of life, and due to the close working professional arrangements in the post war era, often became difficult to differentiate. What was clear, was that they had a different approach to nurses and doctors (driven by a medical model), and often picked up on the long term implications of the traumas of war that went beyond the immediate emergency medical care.

The spread of tuberculosis and polio further increased the demand for therapy services. Specifically the polio epidemic and later thalidomide in the mid 20th century created an important role for therapists to work with children in need of rehabilitation therapies. New science discoveries, (for example the invention of plastic) influenced the ways splints, orthotics and adaptive equipment was made furthering challenging the skills of OTs and physios.

Today physio and OT are both highly regarded, well established allied health professions and have evolved to meet the needs of the population. Community demographics such as population aging, work force changes, incidence of chronic disease, sports, work and road trauma and palliative care have increased the need for highly trained therapists. Technology too has influenced the varieties of modalities used, and both disciplines have well established areas of research evidence. While a lot has changed, both remain true to their roots – physiotherapy with skills in physical functioning and mobility and occupational therapy with skills in occupation and enablement. Long gone is the image of the masseuse and basket weaver.

Both remain in high demand and continue to make a meaningful impact to the people they serve.

Professor Susan Brandis, Head of Program, Master of Occupational Therapy Bond University

Bond University’s Master of Occupational Therapy program provides the opportunity to obtain comprehensive clinical skills, solid business acumen and research experience. Applications are taken for course commencement in September and May.

1. Low JF. The reconstruction aides. The American journal of occupational therapy : official publication of the American Occupational Therapy Association. 1992;46(1):38-43.

#OT #occupational therapy #bond university #allied health

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miggy-figgy · 7 years ago

Photo

Certain Magic (From Chaos to Tradition - Randall Bachner Finds Life in Marrakesh) By Miguel Figueroa Photographed by Daniel Riera

In 2013, Randall Bachner quit his first life. The then 42-year-old fashion photographer followed his instinct, said good-bye to New York’s rat race and settled into Marrakesh to start a new chapter - if not, a whole new book - as a self-taught fashion designer. Five years later, the risk has pulled off. His successful brand, Marrakshi Life celebrates and safeguards the tradition of Moroccan hand weaving - which dates back in the Middle East and Africa to 7000 BC - from becoming a thing of the past. Giving it a fresh, modernized spin to unisex handwoven apparel that you can’t help but want.

Hi Randall, Marrakshi Life is wonderful! Please, tell me more about it. Oh, why thank you! We started as a little shop in the Medina working with one weaver, doing one off pieces and then added a tailor. We made one piece, hung it in the shop to see what would happen. When people found us in the Medina it was a sort of discovery and inspired them to do things. We do our own brand, Marrakshi Life [ML] and service production. A lot of fashion people come to Marrakesh and they end up wanting to use our resources of hand weaving and garments, therefore, a big part of our business is working with other brands.

Weaving was losing its popularity in Morocco because they want to modernize everything. They have an appreciation of the tradition but it’s hard to get young people engaged in it and the weavers are getting old, but it’s really nice to be able to sustain weaving and make it cool again. Ariane Goldman’s company Hatch became our first client from New York. She took the risk and gave us a huge production. From there we built a little atelier in the center of Marrakesh outside the Medina and then within six months we had more clients. Last June we moved into a new space that took a few months to build and then we were able to balance production for our brand and our clients.

When you enter into the space you can see the whole process - the spinners, tailors, weavers and from there we have our shop and office. It’s all in one whole warehouse space and we’ve already maxed it out! [laughs] We’re growing at a really cool rate and it’s about how we continue. When you can see the process is really nice for people and they appreciate it. We just shot our first campaign in Uruguay and it was great to go with the brand outside Morocco. I have to think about how I’m going to get the brand outside of Morocco because I’m not really into the whole seasons thing, ML is more resort wear.

You can wear it throughout the year. Morocco has mild winters. It gets cold sometimes and in that deeper part of winter is when I can least wear the clothes there. I’m now in New York [in February] and I can’t really wear it right now but we are going to start bulking up, working with wools and other warmer fabrics. There are so many possibilities of what you can do with weaving, but in Morocco sometimes it’s very hard to resource materials.

As the brand grows, has there been any interest from younger Moroccan artisans to learn weaving? The team is growing and it’s really cool. We have our team of weavers and it’s expanding and we are finding younger people engaged in it. The average age was 55 and now the average age is in the 40s. We have a couple of people in their 30s and even in their 20s. We want to start an education program to get engage younger people who don’t have jobs and train them.

Who is the Marrakshi Life client? Something that’s very important for the brand is that it’s unisex. I like making pieces that are not gender specific at all. If it’s a piece that I couldn't really wear, then we wouldn’t make it. I won’t make very feminine pieces, but I do make very masculine pieces because I like it for men and women. When people do ethnic wear, it has this feminine flow that it’s ok, but not for our brand.

Why Marrakesh? I had been here before a couple of times and I was amazed at how much you can do there. You see all the artisans and the possibilities but you don’t see an aesthetic that appeals to you, but there are definitely the resources here to do something. I didn’t know about all the problems…

Like? I had no idea what would it mean to have a business in Morocco. They have their own mentality, pace and work ethic. I had never lived abroad, so for me, coming from New York to Marrakesh was freaking crazy, honestly.

It’s wildly good that you did such a thing - you definitely stepped out of a comfort zone. I needed to. Working in fashion photography is a really tough business. It can leave you very unfulfilled creatively, spiritually, everything. I was at a point that I felt stuck and the only way to get out of it is put yourself into war and give yourself that challenge. It’s hard when there's something going on in your family and you’re really far away. [Our interview occurred on a Saturday morning while Randall took care of his mother who had just gotten out of the hospital.]

I’m grateful that it’s working and I can’t complain about that. I'm a very spontaneous person, I don’t really like to overthink about it.

Fashion photography’s competitiveness can really get to you. Oh, I would never recommend anyone to get into it unless you’re very well connected. Anything really is about who do you know and how can they help you. What inspired me to do fashion photography was magazines in the 80s and 90s but that kind of business is not happening anymore.

Were you interested in fashion design before fashion photography? No! And that’s the thing… I’m not a trained designer. Everything has been through my instinct. That’s why I thought about keeping it very simple, but sometimes I have a wild moment thinking about fur coats or fringe. For me, it’s more about the technique. Through the years and working with designers you understand the process. You definitely learn by doing.

That's the best way to learn. Life brings you places and this is where it brought me. I love the fact that I don’t have to buy any clothes and I just get to wear the clothes that we make. I’m not a materialistic person nor a fashion victim. Something that I like about what we are doing is that we’re self-sufficient. From two threads we can make a finished piece. I make things, I put them out there, the world responds to it and it’s flowing. I don’t really want to be part of that system of trade shows and wholesale. I don’t want to just do something to go into that category because I know how hard it is. I see all these brands that are trying to make it… but in the long run, I think we may have to do it a little bit because it does circulate your product. It all depends on what your goals are.

It’s really all about the team and ours is amazing. Sometimes I have troubles with them because there is a cultural difference and they don’t really have reference points for everything - this is all they’ve done and don’t really have any previous experience. They learn from what I need, what our clients ask for and it’s been amazing how do these projects. If we can do it, we move on to the next step and they always have it figured it out. That's been pretty amazing and has allowed us to grow. I’m very fond of them and they’ve helped me from day one.

It’s fundamental to surround yourself with a good team in order to be successful and they need to believe in your product. Do you think that’s maybe why some brands never take off? Is it because they are driven more by their egos than the desire to deliver a good product? Exactly. It’s not all about me and I always tell them that too. When we do runway pieces for clients and they see that and think “that is so cool”. You can imagine their excitement when they realize that these products that come from the artisanal communities end up in shops like Barneys.

It is so fulfilling! Maybe they don’t see it that way in its entirety but it is rewarding for them to see something so traditional become so modern.

How has it been communicating with them? That’s been amazing too. I’m not a big language guy. I can speak Spanish a little bit, but other than that…. I had a Spanish boyfriend for 14 years and when that relationship ended I was like “I need to get out of New York” and went to Marrakesh. It was a personal and career moment… that moment when nothing is working and I knew that the environment would be key. I didn’t know what it meant to live in another culture and here they speak French and I don’t as well, but they two main guys I work with speak English very well. Also, English is very exciting here because it’s seen as something modern. But there is a lot of sign language involved. [laughs]

One last question and this one has been in my head since I got the assignment. Americans don’t have the best reputation in the Africa nor the Middle East. Has this affected you or caused any friction? Not in Morocco. Moroccans are very open minded and Marrakesh is dependent on tourism, so Americans are seen as great tourists because they spend money and they are really not used to that many Americans here. I’ve never felt any negative or political situations. Everyone who sees me goes “Oh, that’s Randall the American guy.” There aren’t many of us around here, so we’re kind of a novelty. Featured in the Spring 2018 issue of Hercules Universal, First Love.

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