I may have lost this painting when I quit my drawing programme, but I can offer a small writing snippet to accompany the WIP screenshot, so it's not all gone to waste:
“What are you painting?”
Tamara hadn’t heard Ockham come in, but the way the corners of her vision shift around her, harsh lines of light softening to a dreamy blur, she should’ve realised it much sooner.
“It’s the view from my bedroom balcony. In Varchas,” she says, choosing her words carefully in a tongue that still feels foreign and clunky.
Ockham squints, studying the painting with a furrowed brow, and the expression suddenly reminds her of her auntie. Tamara shakes her head, dismissing the illogical comparison. They clearly look nothing alike. They shouldn’t, at least.
Ockham’s hand traces along the line of a wall of mirrors, where it intersects with a planter containing long dead greenery, careful not to touch the still wet paint. She’s suddenly aware that the perspective on the planter is off, and makes a mental note to fix it as soon as she’s able.
“It is not a very nice view,” Ockham finally says.
Although it’s a somewhat rude thing to say, it’s not entirely wrong. There was nothing special or aesthetically pleasing about the view. She’d barely paid it any mind herself, in all of the years she’d lived and slept in that room. The part of her brain that had been slowly developing since she’d picked up this new hobby urged her to move some elements, give the piece stronger tones than the monotonous muddy yellow characteristic of Varchaasi evenings. But that would go against the aim of painting it in the first place.
“It is not a very nice view, no. But it’s the one I had, and if I don’t paint it how it was, I fear one day I won’t remember how it really looked like anymore.”
Ockham’s studying her now, and she wishes, not for the first time, that she had any insight into her flatmate and companion’s mind, whether it even worked the same way as a real person’s would. If Ockham would find her thought offensive.
“Ok.”
“Ok?” she repeats, confused.
“Ok,” Ockham nods, then moves away from the painting towards the door, “I go now to the market. Is there something not on the list that we need?”
She nods no, then catches herself and changes the motion.
“No, nothing.”
“Ok.”
Ockham is gone again. This time she hears the door click closed. With a sigh, she draws her brush across the canvas, determined to fix that planter before it cements itself as warped in her memories.
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The overdress is all in one piece! And we have sleeves! With bonus screen accurate Rhaenyra ring!
Work has been extra weird this week, but weird in a way that's given me more time to iron and pin and sew than I usually have. So I was able to get through that long list of pressing tasks from my last post, and then pin the two front panels to the side panels (which are already sewn to the back panels), pin the back seams of the sleeves, and sew those four seams earlier today.
With those seams done, the sleeves are sleeve-shaped and the dress is basically dress-shaped. All of those new seams need pressed, and the sleeve seams will need to be hand-finished since the black silk organza is a bit itchy on its cut edges. There's just one more body seam left to sew for the dress, the center front seam, and then the little shoulder seams.
There's quite a lot of finishing to be done, both on the dress and the sleeves. In the above pic, the sleeve is just clamped closed at the underside of the wrist, and once it has its hooks-and-eyes it'll fit a lot more smoothly. And then there's all the seam finishing for the dress, hemming the neck and armscyes and skirt edge, and handsewing on all the trim and beading. Lots to do!
I've been working little by little on the handsewing for the seams finishes for the underdress, and then it will need all its hemming too. But when possible I've been trying to focus on the overdress, because if it came down to it, I would rather have the overdress done and leave the underdress somewhat unfinished. But today is exactly 15 weeks until I have to pack for Dragon Con, so I've still got time, and I'm hoping I can get everything finished to my liking in the time remaining.
Besides the dress itself, I still have a few things to do on the wig, and I've been tracking down the jewelry pieces one by one, and I may actually end up making one piece that I've been unable to find. I also want to make a little handbag to carry all my stuff at con, but that's definitely on the nice-to-have list.
Some days I feel like I'll be able to get through this whole project with time to spare, and other days I feel like I'm going to be working on it up until the very last moment, and maybe have to cut corners to get it done. Getting through this last portion of machine sewing and into all the extensive handsewing will hopefully give me a better idea of how long the whole thing will take.
But, of course, I'm already having Ideas™ about what other cosplays I could make for Dragon Con this year, if I do end up having time at the end of the summer. One of them would be pretty straightforward, and I could use the same pattern as this project with just a few modifications, and I already have at least most of the materials I would need to complete it. The other one is completely ridiculous, with tedious machine sewing and handsewing, but damn it would be fun.
Welp. I guess if I want to have any hope of finishing this cosplay and maybe one or two more after that, I should probably get back to it. My iron awaits!
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Awhile ago @ouidamforeman made this post:
This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...
It. It kind of fucks. Severely.
And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.
I'll explain:
As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.
Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.
(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)
Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:
"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life."
--Genesis 3:24, KJV
Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.
(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.
...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)
So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.
But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:
The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.
Do you understand?
The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.
The flaming sword was given to be used against them.
So. Again. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell lures it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.
That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.
...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.
They're Crowley and Aziraphale.
(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)
In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.
It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.
...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.
And the Serpent--
(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)
--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.
As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:
"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization."
--Robert G. Ingersoll
The first to ask questions.
Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).
And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.
And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--
(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)
--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.
To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.
Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel, and it's ~forbidden. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.
It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.
And then you keep writing.
And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.
(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).
It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)
...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:
I love this shot so much.
Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.
You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.
"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every single human being. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.
But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.
Godfathers. Sort of.
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