im back!!!

Id really like to take this account more seriously but i have no idea how tumblr works lmao

A soldier who has never been good at praying

finished gtn a few days ago and i am now going bananas waiting for my copies of htn and ntn to get here, sooo here’s some of my favorite guys :] i’d like to try drawing the whole main cast at some point but my god there are SO MANY

[reblogs appreciated!]

christening this account with a yucky yanthe. hello world

Commission by @addamii !!!! I wanted griddlehark with fluffy headbands doin makeup in the bathroom SO BAD ive had this idea for MONTHS, they did an AMAZING job (also please tumblr be nice and don't rip the quality apart please please pleaaaase)

So let them lie

Priory of the orange tree

just finished day of fallen night and it resparked my hyper fixation so here’s this

Tané: gods always speak in mysterious riddles

Nayimathun: I just said, “you are enough”

Tané: I may never know what they mean

Drawing skeletons is goofy ahh

Ngl Ianthe is my fav character ever. The way she acts, totally careless of others but following some sort of fucked up plan she made, very girlboss of her. And also I LOVE how Muir potrays her, as a tall seraphic crazy lady thirsty of blood but yet very pale and weak. I haven’t read Nona the Ninth yet, I hope to see her again there.

Imagine a whole book abt her tho (delusional)

even the iron still fears the rot🗡️💀⛓️

Harrowhark Nonagesimus from Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

p.s.: again took, some artistic liberties, mainly with colours because im still not a fan of working with greys and blacks so i went with deep bloody red and a deep burgundy for her hair which i reallyyyy like how it rendered out all together. i also changed the design of her bone collar/necklace because i had fun playing around with it and her bone earrings, again, sorry for the sacrilege

snorting fiberglass as we speak.

Idk what quote to put here I just wanted to post the three of them together bc this is the way these were meant to be seen.....

Link to individual posts under:

Harrow

Alecto

Gideon

Don't tell Harrowhark what to do. She's the Reverend Daughter.

Twins

it's cam - peebles

The thing about having read our way through two previous books full of necromancers and weird eldritch shenanigans is that the absolute horror of what happens to John as a person doesn't quite register.

John's own glib, matter of fact narration tells the story as an apotheosis. He was doing great. He'd have fixed everything if only people had listened.

But reading between the lines in the John chapters, you glimpse something rather different.

John basically spends the first half of the Jod chapters sitting in the dark with his creepy yellow eyes, not eating or sleeping, literally stroking his favourite corpses and coming out with chill and fun statements about how he can feel their skin when he's away from them and he's 'waking up'. Cool, cool.

Passing swiftly over the cow dome, Presidential Puppet Pals, and the suitcase nuke, day to day life in the cow dome must have been fun... You're all on the Interpol watchlist, the Vatican is asking a lot of questions, the police are outside and John - who hasn't slept in a week and doesn't eat anymore and is probably wearing some kind of weird novelty tshirt - comes wandering past while you're eating breakfast, followed by a dozen silent, dead-eyed corpses like some kind of mother hen. He makes a cow joke, and then zones out because he got distracted by listening to the bacteria in your gut.

And then some guys die accidentally and it turns out he can eat death energy. So now he's got creepy Twilight eyes, an entourage of corpses, a cape, some very dodgy eyeliner, and he's barely breaking a sweat as he instantly kills over 100 people, says it was an accident, and then, dead serious, tells his followers to drag dead UN peacekeepers inside to add to his 'skeleton army'.

By the end, he's not slept or eaten in weeks, is tweaking his own bodily processes on the fly, is puppeting the dead US president and possibly an army of over a hundred corpses, monitoring G- in Melbourne, carrying on at least two conference calls, and helping to build barricades out of chairs.

And I just keep thinking how weird it must have been for his friends. How sometimes he would have seemed like the man they'd known and loved for so long, and sometimes he would seem different. Did they ever find themselves mourning the man he was? Did they ever stand there as he tuned into something they couldn't fathom, staring at them with those yellow eyes, and feel some awful, uncanny valley terror? Did he ever feel like he was losing himself? At what point did the cow jokes stop feeling like oh, classic John and start to be a reminder that his desire for vengeance and the scope of his powers were outstripping his remaining...perspective?...restraint?...humanity?