egyptian palace

the-one-random-internet-kid  asked:

I want to know what are characters's soul rooms look like. Original we only get to see Anzu and Yugis's. Your idea?

I had to think about this a little but here’s what I came up for some of them (surprisingly angsty, I must say):

- Atem’s soul room after he regains his memories looks like the inside of an Egyptian palace. I think it would be very clean and organized, as after all that happened he’d like to avoid losing or misplacing things in his mind. There would be things tied to his past, like Egyptian games he used to play, but also more modern things, like a duel disk. He would have so many pictures in there - of Yugi, of his friends both in modern and in past times, of his family, we know he how much he treasures everyone he loves so I can imagine his room would be full of images of all the people he doesn’t want to ever forget about

- Seto’s room would be very modern in look. A mix between an office and a minimalist apartment. It would look very tidy, of course, with very few things around (a picture of Mokuba, a Blue Eyes model). There would be a desk that is always covered in papers about whatever the latest idea Seto is concentrated on is. But open a drawer or a cabinet, and you’ll find a real mess within, torn pictures and a broken collar and chess pieces all scattered around, all the things he tried to suppress and forget through the years but he only ends up hiding out of sight

- Jounouchi’s room would look like a real mess the moment you step in. Everything is thrown around, on the ground, in piles that risk falling down from one moment to the other. Duel Monster cards are all over the place, and you could barely step inside without risking walking over some. There’s a lot of things that are Duel Monster themed, but you could find Shizuka’s favorite doll, the one she would always play with as a kid and have Jounouchi join her, or a replica of that one Puzzle piece he stole from Yugi all those years before. No photos for him, just mementos of all his friends. In a corner there’s a box that’s got a knife and some old clothes from when he was in the gang. It’s dusty and closed with tape, and one would easily miss it if they didn’t know it was there

- Mai’s soul room has a certain elegance. There’s comfortable armchairs and tasteful decorations, it almost looks as if she was expecting guests, and there’s always a sweet aroma in it. If one were to look closely, they would see there are small cracks in the wood of the coffee table, that the wall behind the shelf housing the awards she won at various tournaments is ruined and stained. But you’d have to look very closely. Mostly, you’d find her decks, Harpy Ladies dolls, and make up and many fine things

- Ryou’s room would not have that much Duel Monster merch. Maybe a few of his favorite cards, but that’s it. There would be books upon books, especially his favorite novels, most of which horror stories. There’s a picture of his mother and sister, and then there are his favorite tabletop games. A huge, bright colored carpet on hides underneath the ugly stains on the ground in the shape of the Ring, made with some dark substance that looks a lot like dried blood. There’s a bed there - very comfortable for reading, but also good for hiding under the blankets when something ugly and evil is inside your head

- Yami Bakura’s room is the opposite of nice. It’s dark, and humid, an Egyptian tomb, the walls covered in blood stains and hieroglyphs that read of curses and blasphemies. He doesn’t have much other than his anger and his hate for the Pharaoh, and the room shows it, laid almost bare past wicked looking knives and a few riches he stole in times long past. A side of the room is dark, and something moves there, with growls and groans like a caged beast. Even with all his hate, Bakura’s room used to be better, once, with gold that decorated the walls, but the millennia locked in the Ring with Zorc have twisted and fouled the little good there was

Face Masks

Originally posted by violet-phantomhive

Ahkmenrah x Reader

Length: 661 words

Warnings: non-gendered reader, ‘mr i Tn’ and ‘mr i Tw’ means ‘I love you’ in ancient Egyptian 

If there was one thing that Ahkmenrah didn’t really require in his life, it was skin care products. Because, not only was he technically ‘dead’, and a mummy during the day, but his skin was also already fairly perfect. It was clear, smooth and golden. Said Egyptian Pharaoh, the fourth king of the fourth king, did however enjoy wearing face masks with his significant other. It was a small slice of domestic heaven, something that was his in the large museum he resided in.

Y/N, a security ‘guard’ who also happened to be his immortal lover - it’s a thousand-year-old long-story – was obsessed with face masks. There were a few reasons for their blatant enjoyment. There was an exploratory aspect to it, which drew them in. Y/N also loved figuring out what combinations and textures worked best for their skin. And, they likewise liked the nostalgic part of it too, reminiscing on how they used to be pampered similarly in the ‘good-old-days’. Or, rather, when the two still resided within an Egyptian palace, where they were doted on. But, there was also the fun the two had wearing them. When they used mud-masks, the two often had trouble keeping straight the straight faces they needed to, never not cracking the mask.

Today, however, they were wearing a pair of matching Korean sheet masks. Which, it turned out, was a very bad idea.

“I cannot wear this any longer!” Ahkmenrah, a self-confessed claustrophobic, was not doing well with having to wear a white, bandage-looking sheet mask. He had tried his best, but after about five minutes with it pressed onto his face, his nerve had cracked and he quickly ripped it off, tossing it to the floor. It landed with a gross, squishy splat. “I’m sorry my love, but I shall not ever wear one of those again!” His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated somewhat, and his breathing ever so slightly staggered.

Y/N gave their panting lover an understanding look. “Ahk,” They murmured, removing their own mask to properly look at him. “It’s alright, love. We can stick to mud and clay masks, if you don’t want to use these.” Placing a comforting hand on his arm, Y/N gently prompted, “Are you alright?”

After being locked away for thousands of years, bound in wrappings and boxed in, Ahkmenrah was very afraid of enclosed spaces. Even more so, having his face covered by something – it was too reminiscent of him being wrapped up in bandages.

“I am fine.” Ahkmenrah promised, covering their hand with his own warm palm. “I am sorry that I have ruined tonight’s events, my love.”

Y/N rolled their eyes at his silly notions, but patted his hand anyways, “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. If you don’t have fun, I don’t have fun. And, we don’t have to use them if you don’t want to. Plus, I think I prefer other masks, the charcoal ones especially so.” They had used a lovely charcoal and blueberry mask the other night, which both felt and smelt incredible. “Don’t feel bad for not liking it, alright?” Ahkmenrah nodded in understanding, albeit slowly. “Here, take the rest of these to Larry, perhaps he and his girlfriend would enjoy them instead.” Y/N handed him a small bag, filled with various packaged sheet masks that they hadn’t used.

Ahkmenrah fondled the bag for a moment, looking slightly like a shy young man as he awkwardly stared at the person who has been his lover for over a thousand years. It had been a long time since he had said it, but there was no reason not to say it now, “mr i Tn.” He hadn’t said ‘I love you’ in their native language for quite some time, because it was deeply personal and private to them. In fact, he hadn’t spoken the words since he had been released by Larry Daley, Guardian of Brooklyn, from his sarcophagus.

Y/N grinned back at him, “mr i Tw, Ahkmenrah.”


TAGGED:

@iamwarrenspeace, @stilesloverdaily, @itsnotnormalteen

Dio x Reader: “No.”

*This is an SDC Dio x Reader I wrote a while back… I can sort of see that my writing has progressed since then, but unfortunately, since I will be out tonight, this is all I can give you today! Requests will start back up tomorrow night, hope you enjoy!!!*


“No.”

It was that one small word that had always intrigued him so much. You would not submit to his mind control. You would not cave to his threats. You would not succumb even to psychological torture. There was no way for you to escape, as your were constantly under watch by Vanilla Ice and Terence D’Arby, and your stand was obviously much weaker than The World. But you held your head high as you walked through the gloomy Egyptian palace that was your prison.

“One day,” you kept muttering under your breath. “One day I will be free to do as I please.”

Something about you had changed when you had been abducted. You weren’t normally stubborn or willful or generally a sour person. But something about  Dio, even just thinking the name made your spirit flare up inside you. Was it because you despised him? Maybe. You just wanted him to understand that what he was doing was wrong, that he would not win, and that his efforts to use you were all in vain.

You were meant to be used as a weapon against the Joestars, but Dio’s plan had backfired. The flesh bud he had implanted in your frontal lobe had immediately rebelled against your cells. It had shriveled up and died along with his control over you. But he kept you locked away for no discernable reason that you could think of. You would yell at him, mock him, insult him. However, he had never laid so much as a finger on you, and forbade any of his servants from doing the same.

He had even set up an elegant bedroom, a kitchen, a wardrobe of lavish dresses; he had transformed your prison into a functional home for a human like you, or at least had tried. Vanilla Ice and Terence were instructed to obey any orders you set forth (as long as they did not conflict with DIo’s own demands), and overall you were content to live out your life until you could knee Dio in the groin and escape.

“(Y/n),” You heard the soft and sultry voice from behind you. You had been raiding the fridge, your stomach growling, as you searched for some source of sustenance that wasn’t just raw bloody meat.

“I need food,” You commanded, closing the door to the refrigerator but not turning to face him. As he sighed, you felt him warm breath pass across your neck, and held in a shiver. His massive hands wrapped around your waist, slid down to caress your stomach, your thighs.

To clarify, he didn’t lay a finger on you to chastise you when you insulted him, or to strike when you disobeyed his orders. However, it seemed that he loved to tease you when you were at your most vulnerable: whispering into your ear, rubbing his hand down your back, your shoulders, your…

You grabbed his wrists tightly, pulling his hands away from your most sensitive parts as he winced and chuckled wryly. You had seen him lie with plenty other women (and men), though he had promptly proceeded to drain them of their blood. But he always seemed to come back to you. You didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you were anything special; you hardly thought you were beautiful or seductive.

His touch always brought chillbumps to your flesh as you shivered in delight, but you refused to let him have you. You refused to cave to his demands like one of his loyal servants. And yet you still longed for those soft hands to stroke your cheek…

He suddenly pinned you against the now closed refrigerator door, his strong hands caging your face and his knee pressed teasingly in between your thighs. You built your lip in anger and frustration as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, his parted lips just centimeters from your skin. His hand tangled through your hair as he brought a lock to his nose, inhaling the sweet scent. Just as goosebumps began to run across your arms, you snapped.

“Dio,” You growled softly. He merely slowed, gently pressing his lips to your neck as you sucked in a breath. “If you don’t get off me right now,” You leaned to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to see if a vampire really needs his nuts.”

Suddenly, he hissed and pulled away from you, storming out of the room. You breathed a deep sigh of relief, still feeling the spot where his lips had met your skin. Not now. Not yet.

Weeks passed. You rarely heard updates on the approach of the Joestar from either Dio or his servants. Dio would still approach you to play with you or to tease you. But he hadn’t actually touched you since that day.

“Miss (y/n),” It wasn’t Dio’s low and seductive voice. It was the softer, younger voice of Terence. You turned from where you had been gazing out of the sole window in the mansion.

“Yes Mr. D’Arby?”

“Dio requests your presence in his chamber,” At these words you let out an annoyed chuckle, shaking your head vehemently.

“No.” You turned back to gaze at the setting sun. That was your instinct. To say no to Dio’s every whim.

“I’m sorry Miss, but…” Terence’s voice was hesitant and apologetic. You heard more footsteps at the door, and turned to see Vanilla Ice sucking through the doorway. His harsh voice resonated through the room.

“He won’t take no for an answer. We have been instructed to use any means necessary.” You shuddered at Dio’s audacity, grasping your skirts in anger. Sending his servants to drag you off to wherever the hell he was lounging around?

“Fine.” you stormed out, past his devoted minions, who had to scramble to follow you through to his chamber. You didn’t even consider knocking on the heavy door as you pushed your way into the room.

“Dio, what the hell–” You faltered as you took in the sight before you, hearing the door slam and a lock click shut behind.

Dio way splayed out across his elegant gold embroidered comforter, the curtains of the velvety canopy framing his figure and inviting you into the king-size bed. The room was entirely lit by candelabras. You would have scoffed at his overindulgence in the expensive set up, but you couldn’t so much as breath. He lay on the bed, chest fully exposed, hair cascading down his shoulders like a shimmering golden waterfall. He was fiddling with a single red rose in between his talon-like fingernails.

Dio smirked as he noticed a deep blush cross your face. You immediately turned to exit the room, but Vanilla Ice had locked the doors behind. As you took in a shaky breath, you spinned back around, only to find he was now standing just inches from you. You flinched slightly, the adrenaline beginning to churn through your blood.

You stared up at his face with mild irritation, as well as mild arousal, as he brought the rose up to almost graze across your lips.

“Dio,” you muttered through your teeth. “What is this?” He let out a sinister laugh.

“Isn’t is obvious?” He pressed the soft petals to your cheek, sliding it down your jawline, your neck. “I believe this is how romance is supposed to work.”

“You don’t know the first thing about romance,” You snarled, wanting to storm away and bang your fists on the door. But you couldn’t move. Dio kneeled in front of you as your breath caught in your throat. His free hand brought your knuckles to his soft lips, and you internally screamed at yourself for wanting to swoon.

“I am not one of your toys,” Your voice was firm and confident, though your insides were panicking.

“Of course not,” His lips trailed up your arm, and you bit your lip, this time to hold in a moan of pleasure. He stood, still kissing up your shoulder, your back. He clasped his hands firmly to your waist as he settled his lips on your neck. You were enjoying this too much to break free from him. But that didn’t stop you from trying.

“Dio,” thankfully this didn’t emerge an unnerved squeak. “I don’t want you unless…” Your voice caught in your throat. That last word. Why did you say that last word? You didn’t want him.

He whipped you around to face him, resting his firm hands on your lowered back as he leaned over you. You were forced to wrap your arms around his bare neck, in an attempt not to fall down.

“Unless, what?” he cooed sweetly. It was too much for you. He was too close. Your only choice…

Suddenly, you shoved him away. Your palms pushed against his bare chest as you spun around to the door.

“Terence! Vanilla! Open the door–” You felt a hand slam next to your face, shallow breaths heating against your neck.

“Why?” the soft rumble of his voice came from behind you. “Why are you like this?” his fist struck the door again “Why do you constantly haunt me, tease me?” His voice was rising, the low rumble transforming instead into a harsh yell ”Why are you so beautiful and so unattainable?” He pulled your shoulder around and slammed you against the wall to stare into your eyes “Why do I love you?!”

The only noise came from his gradually slowing pants as he continued to look into your eyes, as if searching for the answers to all these questions. You were paralysed with fright, surprise, anticipation. His stance softened, and his fist slid down from the wall beside you. He took a slow step forward, disregarding the rose he had carelessly tossed onto the floor, and tilting your chin upwards with his fingertip in a surprisingly gentle manner. He turned your face from side to side, almost like he was inspecting it for flaws. He repeated again, but softly:

“Why do I love you?” Your face was burning as he placed his other hand on your hip, gently nudging you back into the door. He seemed to be mesmerised as his fingers caressed your collarbone, your chest. His crimson eyes glanced down as he took an unsteady breath. His tongue slid over his lips as he walked his talons down–

Suddenly, you grabbed his fingers, you heart heaving. He quickly locked his eyes back into yours, his cheeks flushed. You had never seen him so perturbed before. His only emotions were arrogance and rage. Not Love. More than ever, you wanted him. But you didn’t want to succumb…

You grasped the hand you had pulled from your breast, raising it instead to brush across your cheek.

“If you really love me…” you couldn’t believe you were about to say this. “Prove it.”

Dio lunged at the opportunity, gluing you to the wall as he forced his lips upon yours. He hungrily sucked as his nails dug into your cheek and his hips bucked against yours. You gasped and his tongue slipped into your mouth. As much as you were enjoying it, it wasn’t what you wanted.

You bit his tongue, hard, and he stifled a cry of pain as he pulled away. If he had been wearing a shirt, you would have grabbed him by the collar.

“I told you, you don’t know the first thing about romance,” you could sense he was having to try his best not to throw a childish temper tantrum. But you tangled your fingers in his hair, slowly pulling him forward. Now that you had him under your control, you were willing to play a little.

You teasingly ran your breath down his exposed neck, just as did to you so many times before. His body became stiff and rigid at your touch, but he made no attempt to grab or grope at any part of you as you continued to snake down his torso. As much as your wanted to press your lips to his muscular pecs, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. The hand that wasn’t busy massaging his scalp slid down his front, tickling his abs lightly. He sucked in a  anguished breath, as you finally kissed his collarbone softly. Your palm pressed down against his navel and he shuddered as you sucked at his collarbone.

Both hands weaved through his golden hair as you sneaked your lips to gently kiss the corner of his mouth. He trembled, and your smirked, somewhat smug at how much you had aroused him. However, he soon took initiative of his own accord, sneaking his firm hand onto the small of your back and leaning lightly into the kiss.

He wasn’t rough this time. He treated your lips with care and you smiled into the kiss, though your nerves were still raging and you felt you couldn’t tell up from down. His hand gripped at your dress hungrily, but you refused to let him take over. Your own hand slid down his heated back, feeling the soft skin and the hard muscles underneath.

You pulled him closer into the embrace, slowly parting your lips and tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You could feel him growing excited with the presented opportunity as he sneakily bit your lip. You snarled, but continued to suck his lips feverishly. His hand sneaked down to grab your ass, and you gasped, allowing him to lift you into his arms as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Your bare thighs could feel the warmth of his equally bare abs, and you shivered at the thought of what he was planning on doing.

Though you squirmed in frustration, you refused to break the kiss as he carried you to the lavish bed. He threw you down, and you gasped for breath as he began crawling over to straddle you atop the mattress. You let him continue as he sucked along the base of your neck, biting gently so as not to draw any blood, and your fingers gripped his shapely shoulders. He licked down your collarbone, rolling his hips as he became even more aroused. Suddenly, his fingers crawled up the side of your torso to grope at your breast. You gasped as he refocused on your mouth, biting playfully as he continued to knead. But you struck back, sneaking your hand down to squeeze his ass. He moaned loudly into your mouth as he continued to devour your lips. He mumbled between kisses.

“Does this mean you love me?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

You licked across his jawline to nibble at his ear lightly.

“Never.”


Part 2: Dio x Reader: “For Now”

Set in Stars: Prince Ahkmenrah x Reader

@lady-of-newt​ said: Could you please write an Ahkmenrah imagine where the reader is actually a constellation and thinks she doesn’t have a chance with him? And I’m going to let you expand on the idea because I’m extremely tired and cant think right now. THank you

No bb, thank you. I had my good friend @exhausted-with-the-world​ read the rough drafts of it and both she and I almost cried. Hope you like it! 


Keep reading

next time anyone says something like “omg, i can’t stand all u ppl complaining about political correctness, this movie DOESN’T have to be accurate, it’s ARTISTIC EXPRESSION” (coughExoduscough) when you complain about whitewashing or racial stereotyping or lack of diversity in a movie

show them prince of egypt

prince of egypt is a fucking glorious example of how DOING YOUR RESEARCH and being ACCURATE in reflecting diversity elevates the quality of the movie. It ADDS to the artistry. Your movie is BETTER and more interesting for it. So even if you wanna be all pragmatic, well, I’m telling you when you do your research and make an effort to portray diverse cultures without stereotyping them, your entire movie IS BETTER for it, even from the purely “entertainment” or “aesthetic” perspective. 

sorry like i’m rewatching it and I noticed all the little details- like the way Tzipporah is made to be darker skinned to reflect how Moses’ wife is said to be an Ethiopian woman, the way the banquet scene in the Egyptian royal palace, if you looked in the background, you could see the people there weren’t all Egyptians but also people from other neighbouring African kingdoms (from the different clothing there was)- the Hebrews themselves all looked different- amongst them there was a variety of skin tones. Perfect because the whole thing is that they aren’t just an “ethnicity” - they’re supposed to be connected by the fact that they believe in the same Abrahamic religion. And those two Egyptian guards who ran off with the Hebrews- interesting- I wonder if they were Hebrews who passed for Egyptian when they were born because their parents feared for their lives?

I loved the portrayal of the Egyptians too overall- you know although they didn’t wear a lot of clothing (due to the climate etc), it didn’t devolve into these caricatures- they were portrayed in a way that showed that theirs was indeed a very advanced and sophisticated civilisation. I liked it because so often we think “civilisation” looks just one way- and it was a great way to show how advanced civilisations come in many shapes and forms. (fyi: the near nakedness of the Mesoamericans like the Aztecs and Africans was often considered to be a sign of a less “civilised” or “evolved” people by European explorers during the era of imperialism). 

Basically this movie gave me a shitton of details to appreciate and think about and that’s what great movies do. 

5

Aida Characters

Here’s my rendering of what some characters from the Broadway version of Aida would look like. I like the music, but I think some of the costume design is a bit weak. I don’t know. These designs are a combination of art/history research and voice inspiration. In case you’re unfamiliar with the show:

Aida - A captured Nubian princess who has to work in the Egyptian palace as a slave

Radames - Captain of the Egyptian guard who is betrothed to Amneris but falls in love with Aida

Zoser - Radames’ father and the head minister - but secretly plotting to kill the king so Radames would inherit the throne

Amneris - The Egyptian princess, fashion forward and torn between her love for Radames and her friendship for Aida

Mereb - Radames’ first officer, and the first to recognize Aida for the princess she is

Architecture (Part 1): Ancient Egyptian Mastabas

Menes was the first pharaoh of Egypt, uniting Upper & Lower Egypt into a single kingdom.  This was the beginning of the Old Kingdom era (3200-2680 BC, and of the 1st Dynasty.  Egyptian architecture began to flourish during this time.

The Egyptians believed that life on earth was temporary, but the spiritual life was eternal.  Therefore, the religious monuments needed to last.  While Ancient Egyptian palaces and houses have collapsed over the centuries, the religious buildings have endured for longer.  The tomb was the gateway to the afterlife, and the temple housed the gods.

The mastaba was the tomb.  It is Arabic for “stone bench”. They were designed with the same plan as an Egyptian house.

It was a regulated mound with several small rooms, built over a broad pit (so it was underground and above ground).  This gave space for the dead person and their provisions for the afterlife.  The central room had the sarcophagus, and the surrounding rooms contained funerary offerings.

The walls sloped inwards.  Wooden/mud-brick pillars were first built, then covered in rubble, and finally walled in mud-brick.

4th Dynasty mastaba.

Entrance to the Mastaba of Ti (5th Dynasty).

4th & 5th Dynasty mastabas.

Mud-brick was the usual material for domestic buildings in Egypt.  It was made from a mixture of mud and straw.  It was excellent for building in the arid climate, and the Mesopotamians had used it for their ziggurats.

The royal mastaba often had a mud-brick façade around it, with alternating projections & recessions.  This probably copied the timber panelling of the early palaces.  The façade was often painted in bright colours, and traces of this survive.

Reconstructions of 1st Dynasty mastabas.  Both are attributed to Queen Merneith.

But during the 3rd & 4th Dynasties (2780-2565), attention moved away from the mastaba’s exterior and towards its interior, for security reasons.  The exterior became simpler.  The burial chamber was sunk deep into the rock, and security measures such as stone portcullises were added.

A false door was usually on the tomb’s eastern side, facing the Nile. This allowed the deceased’s spirit, or ka, to enter & exit the tomb as it pleased, and travel upon the river.  It was made of mud-brick or stone, as an imitation of the façade’s wooden door.

False door (6th Dynasty).

During the 4th Dynasty (2680-2565), non-royal mastaba cemeteries were built near/around royal mastabas.  These non-royal tombs contained high officials, and the tombs were probably an honour bestowed on them by the pharaoh.  A small chapel was included – often a simple niche with an offering table for dedications to the deceased, on the outside of the mastaba.

The most sophisticated tombs had many chambers inside them, as a full-scale residence for the deceased, as well as a gateway to eternity.  The rooms were decorated with scenes of daily life, and natural motifs.  They depicted the afterlife as an “idealized parallel to Egypt”.  These rooms included storerooms, a chapel, resting places, and dining areas.

The following photos are all from the tomb of Merefnebef (6th Dynasty).

Fishing scene & marsh scene.

Jewellery workshop.

Merefnef sitting with one of his wives, watching harpists & dancers.

Merefnebef (II) and his wife Hemi, seated before offerings.

Hieroglyphic list of offerings.

2

“A Novel” by Noel Fielding; from Scribblings of a Madcap Shambleton:

“  Kim dragged the huge Chinese shark up three flights of stairs into the Egyptian Palace. It was still breathing as he smashed its head in with a Chelsea Boot.
 “Typical of you.” Jason Barked. “Your voice is a racing car.”
“Yum yum times.” Kim mumbled laughing to himself and turning away.
“That’s a hammerhead shark.” Said Jason, hitting the hammerhead with a hammer. The bones inside the thick rubber skin started to break into small pieces until the shark became a long grey bag full of junk balls. Boney puzzle pieces sloshing around inside the blue sleeping bag with fins. The eyes were still working and shifted in their sockets from my face to Jason’s as if watching an exciting tennis match. The shark didn’t exist and neither did I nor Jason.  “

Egyptian Woman Dressed Like Man For More Than 40 Years To Provide For Family

For more than four decades, Egyptian mother Sisa Abu Daooh dressed as a man to provide for her family. Last week, she was awarded the “woman breadwinner” award by the authorities in her hometown of Luxor and was congratulated in person by the Egyptian president.

Abu Daooh, 65, was celebrated on Sunday in a ceremony at the Egyptian presidential palace, where she met President Abdel-Fattah El-Sissi and received a prize of about $6,500, Agence France Presse reports. Wearing a traditional male robe and turban while receiving the award, Abu Daooh was praised by the president as “an exemplary working woman.Read on here.

Elias Muhanna on translating “Frozen” into Modern Standard Arabic: http://nyr.kr/1oDNnsH

“The Arabic lyrics to ‘Let It Go’ are as forbidding as Elsa’s ice palace. The Egyptian singer Nesma Mahgoub, in the song’s chorus, sings, ‘Discharge thy secret! I shall not bear the torment!’ and ‘I dread not all that shall be said! Discharge the storm clouds! The snow instigateth not lugubriosity within me…’”