This is a small thing, but I find it so interesting that the lyctors wear iridescent white robes. The text describes them as being the color of an oily sheen on water, and there's symbolism there of course, but a thing I've discovered (while trying to do a TLT cosplay) is that white iridescent fabric is always polyester. Plastic-based, terrible-for-the-environment, beloved-of-fast-fashion polyester. It doesn't breathe. Every time you wash it, it leaves behind microplastics in the water (which is maybe something to be examined about the Mithraeum's water recycling system). It's a major product of the oil industry, an industry which is heavily contributing to, if not spearheading, climate change.
And I think it's just so incredibly in character that John - the man who was given the power to save the Earth but instead started WWIII, trapped Her soul in the body of a Barbie, and has used Her as his personal power source for a myriad without a care for what She wants - picked a polyester fabric as the symbol of the First House.
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Iβd do anything for twenty bucks
Iβd sell my sour soul
βCause lemonade is bitter βtill you
Sweeten up the bowl
ITS MY FAVORITE GIRL!! PYRRHA!! I LOVE YOU!!
I think this half of the chorus is verrryyy Pyrrha coded-- she's so desperate for love, for any scrap of anything, and she's SO DUMB about it. But it isn't only about Pyrrha!! Wake!! My love-- also desperate af, this fucking sputtering fire of a woman who will blow up her own kid to win.
Ok so honestly I had no idea what to draw for this part going into it, if you watch the timelapse you definitely will get that. But I am very happy with what I settled on. Basically, this is an AU of what could have happened in Pyrrha (not G1deon) had caught up to Wake just as she was going into labour. I think it's really interesting to think of Pyrrha's own relationship to John, to Wake, and to this child that she really has no responsibility for but feels beholden to anyway. John is this symbol of everything G1deon admired, of everything all of them left behind in order to pursue a 'better world', and Wake is the antithesis of all of that: she's likely the descendant of the same billionares that escaped Earth leaving everyone behind, and she is furiously and vengefully mad at all of it. Pyrrha in love with these three people, she hates all three of them in some capacity, she wants to do what's right and she has no idea what that is in almost every situation.
And then there's this kid that's innocent and also tied up in all of it, and there's no guarantee that it isn't actually hers. And she wants to do the right thing-- is that the right thing for millions? A barely thought though plan that could very easily (and does) go astray? Or is that right thing to save this baby? idk, you decide.
I don't know what perfectly cannon compliant Pyrrha would do in this situation, I've read the books three times and I still don't really know, though I'm leaning towards her saving baby Gideon and running off to raise her somewhere (honestly a pretty intriguing story on its own), but for the sake of the AU and the story I am trying to tell: Pyrrha lets Wake go. The mission still fails, the rest of Gtn and Htn and even Ntn continue on as normal, but there is that undercurrent of deeper responsibility that Pyrrha has to Gideon, something that, though I think is present and will be explored further in cannon, isn't incredibly important. I'm a sucker for dad Pyrrha, sue me.
iβm currently writing an essay about ianthe for my classroom management class. itβs a formative behavior assessment, which means iβm explaining her maladaptive behaviors and figuring out the best ways to replace those behaviors. iβm having the most fun iβve ever had.
I am in awe of how good of an urban backdrop these stairs made at ECCC. The Summit building has some amazing natural lighting compared to the old building. Be prepared for a lot of Locked Tomb photos taken on these stairs. Amber and I had a lot of fun with the camera.
- 3d print file base for rapier from dangerousladies
- modified, printed, finished by me
- wig base from arda
- boots are demonias
- cosplay patterning and making by me
- photos by @ambromancy (per usual, if I dont say who, it was us doing πΈ)
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What if the puzzle box with the note from Doctor Sex is actually just an old prop from one of Johnβs dnd games that the players never solvedβ¦turns out he just repurposed the structure of lyctors and feudalism from a mix of his campaign and historical knowledge cause he didnβt have any better ideas on how to structure a society.
γ½ β β * β Β π€π’π¬π¬ π¦ππ¦π, Β accepting. Β β Β β. Β Β a kiss in the rain filled with a foreboding of a goodbye β¦ from @lyctoralsaints, coriolanus and sejanus.
he is a silly , foolish , impulsive thing and he's afraid he'll never be able to change his ways. he doesn't even know why he'd had the thought of pressing record , how or why he'd let himself send that stupid jabberjay off to dr. gaul before the realization had fully set in. sejanus always found a way of getting in his head , getting in his Β way , and at the time , it had seemed like the solution to all of his problems. the panic had set in only when he'd been alone mere hours later , when the idea that money couldn't fix everything had first crossed his mind. money versus treason to the capitol βΈ» which Β would Β win ? in hindsight , the answer seems glaringly obvious. silence can only be bought for so long , and Β knowing Β sejanus' Β track Β record , it'll only be a matter of time before he's getting stuck in another situation like this one and coryo can only save him so many times. save Β him , yes , that's what he has to do ; save sejanus plinth from his own mistakes , made in blinding fury and selfishness.
β go as far north as you can , and once you think you've gone far enough , go Β for Β another Β day Β or Β two. β the pouring rain has turned the forest floor to mud , making this escape from district twelve in the dark of night more difficult than it needs to be , and there's too many times where he nearly loses his footing and narrowly avoids being tossed to the ground. his movements are hurried as he leads him through overgrown weeds and tall pine trees , a messily thrown together bag of sejanus' belongings at his back , with as much food stored away as he could get his hands on. when they reach the lake , he pivots on his feet until he's facing the other boy. he hopes the moon peaking out from a gap within the clouds isn't enough light to show the regret in his eyes , the Β shame Β that Β lingers Β in Β his Β very Β heart. β i'll explain everything when i catch up to you in a few days , okay ? β and he wonders if sejanus can hear how unsure he is of himself as he speaks , if he can hear the internal battle between wanting to uphold such a promise yet knowing a life in the wilderness is not one he could ever be content in. perhaps he will get caught anyway and awake in the morning not knowing it'll be his last Β day ; maybe , sejanus' disappearance will somehow get linked back to him and they'll know he snuck the traitor out to safety.
hands are uncharacteristically gentle as they reach upwards to frame the other's face , brushes back dampened curls that stick to his forehead , leaning forward to press a dizzying kiss to his lips βΈ» he allows himself to pour every ounce of emotion into it that he has not yet allowed himself to feel. the sorrow , the longing , the regret of having wasted their time together by being too caught up in constantly being forced Β into Β the Β plinth Β boy's Β shadow. the kiss leaves him feeling as though his heart has been ripped from his chest when he pulls back. β i'm sorry , sej , β whispered into the already heavy air between them in one final moment of weakness , before coriolanus is shedding the bag from his shoulders and shoving it into the other's arms. β now Β go. β
" what if they kissed ? " β @lyctoralsaints, griddlehark.
Β βΒ Β βΒ β harrowhark nonagesimus, don't you fucking dare -- β this is what they do. they fight, they tear at each other, they throw their lives away for each other. they cannot exist within or without each other. well, screw that. she is tired of their fate being dictated by someone else, a life of hate orchestrated by lies. her very skin could catch aflame with the anger she feels, and yet there desperation that aches in the cavern where her heart once was. she grits her teeth, pulls her necromancer closer by the iron grip on her arm. β you just don't get it, do you? β
Β βΒ Β βΒ but she does. oh, on the word of her own father, harrow does. maybe she's always known -- it's hard to tell with those sad, soulful fuckin' eyes. she won't stand for it anymore. gideon nav takes that sorrowful visage between sword - calloused palms and pulls her up at the same time she leans down, pressing a long and firm kiss to skull - painted lips that drags the breath from her own still lungs. she rakes her fingers through those unruly, midnight colored strands and almost knocks their brows together from the determination with which she presses her forehead to hers. her hands tremble, brows creasing as she squeezes her eyes shut. β you are not getting away from me again. we do this together, okay? no matter what. β
