Imagine You Are Palamedes Sextus. You Spend Twelve Years Exchanging Letters With A Woman Who Is Seven

imagine you are palamedes sextus. you spend twelve years exchanging letters with a woman who is seven years your senior. you become the heir to your house just to meet her as an equal. you love her to the point of invention. you both know that her time spent alive has an expiration date sooner than most, and so one day you decide to propose to her - even though you know that she can spend the rest of her life with you but you can’t with her, even though there are imperial rules forbidding interhouse marriages between necromancers, even though you’re here and she’s there and you’ve never even met in person - but you want her to spend her days with someone who cares about her. but you’re so young, only nineteen, and there are still all of those reasons listed above, and so she turns you down. but it isn’t because she doesn’t want to say yes. and then over the next year the letters come fewer and farther apart. and then you’re both invited to the emperor’s house - both of you, together, physically in the same place for the first time - and you show up and she’s here. and it’s like she doesn’t know you. she doesn’t spare you a glance. and you’re still so tender with her - you can’t help it, there’s care baked into you, and you can’t resist helping her, loving her, going so far as to kiss her knuckles in front of company - but still. she doesn’t acknowledge anything that happened between you. she’s moved on. she must have, because she’s spending all this time with the cavalier from the ninth - who is, by the way, two years younger than you, and that doesn’t escape your notice because nothing does - and what can you do? what are you supposed to do?

you tell your cavalier that you’re glad she’s spending time with someone who makes her laugh.

Wait so after all the John flashbacks when does Harrow realize that John Gaius ascended into godhood at the sacrifice of 10 billion people and an immortal (it’s the fucking planet man it’s 4.5 billion years older and only getting older) and then consumed its soul as the cherry on the divine necropie yeah?

And Harrow herself was born from the sacrifice of 200 people and achieved lyctorhood at the death of a immortal being (Gideon can regenerate and came back at least a dozen or more deaths making her nigh-immortal if not immortal until proven otherwise, by the time she impaled herself) 

like we get it--Harrow is meant to mirror Jod but like I think she's going all the way like she did necromancy in the river THE FIRST TIME SHE WAS EVER IN THE RIVER AND SHE WAS A TEENAGER

Harrow’s even more of a baby god than the lyctors. Like the lectors are demigods, but Harrow really is a baby god.

Reblog and put in the tags your favourite horror or “spooky” animation! Can be any type.

but seriously i do find it so funny that ford was like OH GOD MY PRECIOUS REPUTATION after bill possessed him around other people for all of one night

and then he gets back to this dimension after thirty years and this is now the photo the press associates with his name

i love how the narrators of the locked tomb series are like:

gideon: is not paying attention

harrowhark: has brain damage

nona: was born six months ago

we love variety in our unreliable narrators

just realizing now that this isn’t just a joke about Nona being six months old. of course she finds flowers sexy. of course the embodied collective soul of the earth thinks the sex organs of plants are sexy. oh my god