Don’t Tell Him I Was Weak.

I present to you: the trc cast as random tumblr posts!

Came back from a few exhausting weeks so I'm treating myself with trc doodles.

This is in the continuity of this post where i said i could make hundreds of those - and honestly i'm not kidding ; it's very therapeutic to make somehow.

I finished Foxhole Court finally! Very good. The last chapters made me crazy. I Will be reading the sequels

JACOB ANDERSON as LOUIS DE POINTE DU LAC INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (1.01) IN THROES OF INCREASING WONDER...

RONAN LYNCH — the bull-headed boy, the two-headed calf

call down the hawk - maggie stiefvater / minotaur, bronze sculpture (1990) — pedro requejo novoa / the minotaur (painting) - wikipedia excerpt / the minotaur, oil on canvas (1885) -  george frederic watts / the elektra complex — joan tierney / call down the hawk — maggie stiefvater / frankenstein — mary shelley / greywarren — maggie stiefvater / house of asterion — jorge luis borges / the dream thieves — maggie stiefvater / labyrinthus hic habitat minotaurus [fig.32. - graffito at pompeii. (museo borbonico.)] — mazes and labyrinths: a general account of their history and developments / call down the hawk — maggie stiefvater / house of asterion — jorge luis borges / greywaren — maggie stiefvater / the two-headed calf — laura gilpin / greywaren — maggie stiefvater 

heard we're shipping griddlehark?????

"the flight to brazil got turbulence"

“the arts and sciences are completely separate fields that should be pitted against each other” the overlap of the arts and sciences make up our entire perceivable reality they r fucking on the couch

the locked tomb series is really like. maybe love doesn't conquer all. maybe love is not pure and good and holy. maybe love is not a white dove come to save you from yourself. maybe it won't fix you. maybe it'll make everything worse. maybe love is dirty and ugly and terrifying and awful. maybe it'll kill you. maybe it'll warp you into something unrecognizable. maybe love is a parasite and by the time you realize it's there, it's too late to tear it out of you, no matter how badly you might want to. maybe it's a cordiceps fungus, tangled up in your nerves, making you do things you'd never ordinarily do. maybe love is a dog with its jaw locked on your arm. maybe love is an angry ghost. maybe love is a brain hemorrhage, a seizure, two weeks of sleeplessness and cracking open your own tibia unanesthetized in a bathroom. maybe it's the ocean you'll drown in. maybe it's poison. maybe it's scary and filthy and difficult and bad for you.

so what now? are you going to stop? are you even going to try?

no. of course you aren't.

Alright, I've got another fic question for you! What are your favorite tlt gen fics?

you say “what ARE” I took this as permission to rec Many

A Mild Sort of Resurrection by sigaloenta [Bari Star AU]

In all the extensive special briefings and all-hands bulletins and strict sets of orders preparatory to the Emperor Divine's inspection tour of the Avernus, no one had considered that God might desire to fetch Himself a coffee.

An Impromptu Christening by orphan_account

The Ninth house finds a body and a baby. Nobody who matters is really thrilled about this turn of events.

believing in everything (and knowing nothing at all) by LesbianJesusLovesYou

A series of childhood memories from the Ninth.

“Fuck it, I'm adopting her," said John Gaius, not knowing the paperwork wasn't necessary by @naamah-beherit

Gideon, a highly distinguished Cohort lieutenant, saves the day—and the girl—and then gets stuck in the lift of The Erebos with a man feeding her peanuts as if they have all the time in the world. They don't, but if he doesn't mind, then why should she?

High But Very Drear by @honorarycassowary. (written pre-NtN)

Aiglamene and Crux receive the five hundred ancient dead gifted by the Emperor for the renewal of the Ninth, and also do something that could be construed as mourning.

John 25:12 by @halfeatenmoon

John and his friends escape the cow fortress to spend Christmas Day at the beach. With beer, salads, pavlova, and the corpses of a million fish killed by nuclear weapons testing.

Mortification of the Flesh by @theriverbeyond

In the myriadic year of our Lord—the ten thousandth year of the King Undying, the Lord of the Sharpest Edge!—Harrow Nova challenged the cavalier of the Ninth for his title.

Purgatory Is Mandatory by @urban-sith (written pre-NtN)

Ianthe figures out the true secrets of Lyctorhood while stuck in a time loop at Canaan House.

recognize them by their fruits by @ceruleanvulpine (written pre-NtN)

John and Ianthe deal with the fact that his only remaining Lyctor is the one he never liked much. Maybe they can bond over the fact that they're both egotistical manipulators who lie like breathing? No?

so I open the window to hear sounds of people by @sunderedstar [but really that whole series!]

John misses the beach. The real beach. The current one is mostly soil with a lacy veneer of nuclear ash, clammy and streaky and hilariously radioactive, which is a real bummer when he thinks about it too hard. But the twenty-five meter sea level rise that came when all the freshwater ice finished melting around the mid-century mark ate away at the shoreline, rolled in between the skyscrapers on a new tide, swallowed up all the people who couldn't afford to move anywhere else. Have you seen the rent rates lately?

some part of me must have died by @theriverbeyond

What if Wake survived long enough to bring her newborn baby to Tomb, and killed her. and then the baby didn't die.

the kingdom of heaven by bittybelle

John puts that first-draft dream of his to bed.

Two Things by Isis

There were two things Jeannemary Chatur wanted: to fight for the Emperor Undying by the side of her necromancer, and for the stupid pimple on her chin to go away already.

when I call, will you come to me? by LesbianJesusLovesYou

“My Lady,” Ortus wheezed, shifting uncomfortably. “I only thought you should know… Gideon Nav was flogged before the congregation.”

Just some totally normal teenagers

One does not play memories of music; one plays music itself. And lifetimes, from beginning to end, are as sheets of music, ready to be played.

Ryka Aoki, Light from Uncommon Stars