#cthonian

[fhtagn-and-tentacles]

CTHONIAN! 

by Nightserpent

[wh40kgallery]

Kinhost

by Paul Dainton

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Sing to Me, Leviathan

Ocean waves gleamed in bright red sunlight, a sea of shattered crystals in perpetual ebb and flow. The first sun had already set. This planet’s second sun followed its descent behind the horizon.

A monumental event, inviting two people on a rusty old vessel to watch and wait for dusk’s arrival.

Old woman, young woman, they stood, together alone, upon the windswept deck. Clad in armor both scuffed and polished, worn from excessive use, and ready for yet another dive.

Waves crashed and lapped at the sturdy hull of their huge nautical vehicle. Against the crimson seas and skies around them, these two people looked tiny by comparison. Yet they stood tall and proud and confident against the vast watery infinity around them, impervious to the crushing emptiness above the surface, and the teeming wildlife that lurked in the darkness beneath the waves.

They awaited the sunset, sharp harpoons in hand, attached to chains and powerful winches. The blue paint of their vessel had mixed its vibrant color with the orange of rust. The chains between harpoons and winches, on the other hand were new. Even more polished than their battered sets of armor. Sterling chains, taken fresh from the Swimming City, hundreds of narels away from their current location.

Darkness scarcely draped itself over the endless aquatic realm of this world.

And whenever it did, the Leviathan rose from its depths.

For now, only the crimson orb in the sky reflected off the opaque surfaces of their helmet goggles.

These sunsets were as breathtaking as the dark clouds roiling across the skies in their wake.

A storm was coming. A storm they expected.

A warning. Of rain on the water, and the coming season. Of the living monolith that would rise from the depths.

The young woman burned to finally see the Leviathan with her own eyes, and earn herself a name by carving a scale from the beast’s shell.

The old woman had long earned her name, but cared little about it. She stared into the horizon, feeling that it reflected the dusk of her own life. She bore an exhaustion that no slumber could ever lessen. The lessons of a long life, the lessons of a sea hunter, the lessons of loss; of all those who had been dragged into the undertow, and devoured by the creatures of the dark. She hoped to bring back bounty, but part of her expected this to be the last time she saw the sunset.

She had been lucky every time. That luck, she believed, was about to run dry.

The clouds, inky-black, devoured all light from the crimson sky, and the ocean waves fell dark.

The young woman sensed that strange calm from the older one. The young woman’s vigor and enthusiasm mixed with a growing sense of insecurity.

The longer the older woman stayed quiet, the more it eroded the younger one’s confidence.

“Are you afraid?” asked the younger.

The older woman chewed on that question like it was a tasty morsel. She swallowed it with any pride and pursed her chapped lips before responding.

“Of course. One should always be afraid. Fear is like fire. A terrible master, but a guide in the dark. Like the lighthouses of the Swimming City. You understand?”

The younger woman let those words sink in. She swallowed then, eating away at her confidence and permitting some fear to join it on the surface.

Her armored shoulders sagged and her grip around the harpoon tightened.

“I understand,” she finally replied.

The older woman stood stalwart. She no longer feared death.

The dark clouds rumbled with a deep, growling thunder, and flashed with bright bolts of lightning. Strong winds howled across the vessel’s deck, and first rain began to pelt them. The rain would soon turn to a downpour.

Both women clicked their helmet’s lower sections shut, and slapped the red button on their armor, activating the oxygen supply.

Another flash of lightning illuminated a monolithic shadow beneath the sea—moving, slicing through the water, rising to the surface.

That giant. Leviathan.

As much as the sea made the women’s vessel look small, and they looked smaller yet upon its mighty deck, the Leviathan’s shadow made their ship look like a speck of dust on the ocean.

According to their tales, star travelers could even see its mighty shadow from the blazing skies.

“Remember,” warned the old woman. “It is not your voice you hear in your own mind.”

“I remember,” protested the young woman. “You and others told me so many, many times before.”

“Resist. Resist temptation to join it. The Leviathan summons all, and those who follow its call are lost.”

The young woman nodded. She swallowed again, and twisted the dial on her armor. The song of their ancestors began to play into her helmet, directly into her ears. The best way they knew to fight the voice of the Leviathan in their heads.

No more time for talk.

The older woman mirrored her motion, twisting the dial, and sighing upon hearing their ancestral song.

Lightning flashed again to reveal the shadow, no longer shadow, risen to the surface of the sea. Stormy waves parted, and the ridged titan body of the Leviathan broke through the surface.

They gripped their harpoon-cannons and waited. Braced themselves.

A tidal wave spawned by the Leviathan rolled towards their vessel. A growing wall of water, a dark and rolling thunder of its own, soon towering over them as it neared.

Tiny red lights flashed on deck, encased in metal grids, blinking in visual warning to signal what they could no longer hear over the songs of their ancestors. The klaxons of alarm, of the tidal waves, ready to crash upon them. The colossal wall of water engulfed everything in sight.

The younger hunter gripped her harpoon with all her life and awaited impact.

The vessel’s computer compensated, and the ship sliced through the tidal wave as the song reached its first crescendo. The front guard on the deck shielded them from the brunt of impact. Torrents of incredible force washed over them. Teeming with displaced aquatic life.

The chains attached to their armor and deck held. Tentacled things and fish remained stuck upon the surface of their vessel after the first tidal wave, flopping helplessly as they recovered.

The shadow now towered over them like the tidal wave. Another lightning bolt revealed it to be the living monolith itself. A wall of sharp scales, gleaming in every flash of light, slippering with the slick wet of water.

Close enough now.

Both older and younger woman readied their harpoons and fired. The tools belched jets of steam from their muzzles and the sleek bladed spears shot forth to that shadowy body. Lights flared on, bright green upon their harpoon cannon, signaling contact, and barbs having extended from the harpoons.

In unison, they engaged the cannons to the harnesses on their armor, clicked the release, and slapped each of the big yellow buttons on their belts.

The wheels on their belts whined with rage. The two hunters flew along the chain between winch and harpoon, hurtling towards the Leviathan. Like the vessel had sliced through the tidal wave, they cut through the waves and the gushing foam.

Hitting the side of the beast was like crashing into a wall, dampened by their body armor. It knocked the wind from their lungs.

The old woman’s impact also left her seeing stars, as her luck had run out. She had hit the side of the Leviathan in an unfortunate. She saw sparks flying inside the claustrophobic space of her helmet, and the song of their ancestors fizzled out.

The younger hunter saw how the older one’s helmet had been deformed from the crash.

Through the mayhem of waves and rolling thunder, the younger hunter yelled out to the older one, though the helmet and cacophony of the stormy ocean, all conspiring to swallow her every word. The older woman heard nothing, for her helmet transmitted no more sound.

Out came the elder’s blades, for such opportunities were rare. Out of all the hunting vessels that left the Swimming City to meet the Leviathan on that stormy night, they were the ones. And they needed its scales. To cleave from the Leviathan’s carapace, new shell for the Swimming City.

To the older woman, it was not about names, or honor, or even pride. If not her, then who else?

The Leviathan dove again. The titan sank beneath the waves, and the waves engulfed them as the Leviathan took the two women underwater. The harpoons in its shell rattled, and the chain-link between them and the ship quaked. They had to act fast, before it dragged them too far, and the pull from the vessel broke the harpoons from the shell.

Voices descended upon them. Even through all the noise, and the storm, and the confusion, and then the dive underwater. Whispers first, then a song. A song more enticing than the song of their ancestors.

The younger woman heard it only faintly, muted by the singing in her ears.

The older woman heard the singing, the lure of the depths, but drove her hook-blade into the carapace, commencing their cutting without fail, hacking away with routine and precision.

Yelling would no longer reach her. The younger woman still pleaded with the older one to hit her release button and return to the vessel. But the older woman either no longer heard or, or ignored her altogether.

Even so, she mimicked her mentor and hacked into the shell, cutting at the boat-sized scale.

Torrents of powerful water washed past them, turning every swing of their blade into a monumental struggle. The spiraling torrents of water around the Leviathan’s body swept up schools of fish in their all-devouring stream. Fish flurried all around them in scintillating colors.

Underwater, the Leviathan’s song only intensified, swelling slowly to match the volume of the song in the younger woman’s helmet.

Still, they held on. Armored, clawed gauntlets gripped to support what the harpoons did to hold them in place.

And they swung, defying the power of water, and the Leviathan’s speed. They hacked, and the cut. And cut. And cut.

They almost carved off the scale they were working.

And the shadow dove deeper, past toothy maws of the shark-like hunters in the sea, swept up in the Leviathan’s maelstrom, and swept away by its gigantic body, and the vortex of torrents that it delivered.

The Leviathan’s song eclipsed the song of the ancestors. A beautiful tale, of a city beneath the seas, harbor to secret lights, and a secret people. A song of those who joined the Leviathan in the darkness below, from whence all life once came.

The song, the song, so enticing.

The younger woman struggled to focus, so little it would take to remove the scale completely—just one more cut, and to pull with all her might—but she struggled to make that last stab. Hesitating. She yelled, no longer at the older woman, but at herself, to not listen to the song, and to only listen to the song of their ancestors. Just one more stab, then—

The older one cleaved the penultimate part free, and the force of the torrent pushed the scale off the Leviathan’s body. The heavy blast collided into the younger woman, denting her helmet, and sparks sprayed inside her field of vision now.

The song, louder than before, eclipsed all.

The depths, the depths, swim together to the depths. The shadow, the sweet embrace of shadow, the release all yearned for, right within grasp.

The older woman clawed at her helmet, then the oxygen tube on her armor. The bladed gauntlet sliced and severed its target.

A gushing stream of bubbles shot past the younger woman, who still struggled to make the final stab and cut, that last tangle of sinewy substance upon which the boat-sized Leviathan scale still hung.

Just one more cut, then to hit the buttons, and cause those winches to rewind, and pull them all back in, and—

The older woman sliced it free. She tore her belt apart. Severed from her lifeline to the vessel.

The younger woman screamed at her, and darkness quickly swallowed them both.

But the older woman, she only heard the song, and held onto the Leviathan’s exposed flesh. Her gauntlet’s blades sank into the flesh where she gripped, and held with all her might. To ride the Leviathan all the way down, to see the depths, and to reach that hidden city in the dark.

The younger woman, unable to stop her, screamed more until she had no more voice to scream with.

She resigned herself to their respective fates. Some part of her wanted to join the older woman, to oblivion with her name. The song of their ancestors sounded weak, and feeble, drowning in the song of the Leviathan and its secret city.

But her pride, her will to live, it all won out. She pressed the button on her belt in a torrent of crushing despair. Her neck almost snapped from the sudden yanking motion as the harpoons and the scale and she were all dragged back to the vessel, shooting past the schools of scintillating fish, and tentacles, and brushing past—

She shot onto deck, tumbling with the scale, skidding towards the winches, where alarm lights kept flashing on and off bright red.

The speakers in her helmet fizzled, and warbles warped the song of their ancestors.

As the living shadow gained distance, so did its song grow quieter in the younger woman’s mind.

Despite the storm, and the crashing waves, she ripped off the lower part of her helmet to gasp for fresh air.

She fought to catch her breath in the downpour and waves of saltwater upon deck

All the while, the klaxons blared while the storm remained, and the Leviathan sank deeper.

They had succeeded. Another scale for the Swimming City.

All the while, she wondered.

Was that city in the depths real?

Would she ever see the older woman again?

Sing to me, Leviathan, sang the ancestors. Sing to me that I may yearn but never see.

[pionneers-lm]

Wh40k idea

I have found a far more effective strategy for the Tyranids that I suggest they devote a new hive fleet to.

Introducing "hive fleet trifid"

because killer plants makes sense with what I am about to propose

So as a Tyranids there is an important question "what is biomass" well it's the material you need to live, but not water there are easier ways to get that. So what is it really ? It's carbon

So you fly around the galaxy nom nom nom nom fighting space marines invading planets eating all the life

But here is the important part. Is life the best way to get carbon ?

I say no

Take Venus like planets, they are extremely common in the universe unlike life bearing ones which are a valuable commodity. They have an atmosphere filled with CO2 which through photosynthesis can be turned into oxygen and more importantly "biomass"

The weight of carbon in the atmosphere of Venus is ten thousand times the dry weight of all life on earth.

So to sum up

Raiding chthonian planets is easier (no resistance and therefore no casualties)

More abundant ( more planets meet the criteria )

And more nutritious ( ten thousand times more )

I propose hive fleet trifid a Tyranid hive fleet that specializes in eating the atmospheres of hot volcanic planets through photosynthesis

[drksanctuary]

@gutsybitsies Cthonian camp AU has nico with a Stygian Iron arm and it was such a cool idea I had to draw it.

I even wrote fanfiction for the fanfic bc I loved it so much. It’s so cool!

Here the link to their fic:

If you love Titan army (alabaster and Ethan) they are in it!! XD go read it you won’t be sorry 😆

[katarvitz]

"Ladies, Gentlemen, All,

There is no murderer among you. In fact, Essik was brought here under a misapprehension. For you see, Mr. Alkasani ended his own life through hubris.

A collector of ancient things, he believed in their value but held a cynical view to any esoteric threat they offered. Six weeks past, he came into ownership of a relic, taken from the lost flagship of the Sith Lord known as Darth Jadus. Some part of Jadus' power lurks within that relic, slaying and consuming all who come into its possession, until its long-dead master can reclaim it.

Essik is sorry to say that all here, having entered this mansion, are under threat of this curse now. Within three days, unless we find a way to destroy it, all those present will meet with the same end as your late companion."

I've been meaning to add Essik Lyccane onto here for a while, and given Shellsweet did such a fantastic job of drawing him several times, it was only natural to pick her as an option (seriously, please check out her other stuff).

He's also arguably the one who evolved the most since his inception. I specifically created him for the Brotherhood roleplay website, to break the impression of every general leading from the front. As someone in his twilight years and with a far sharper mind than a strong body, it was a fun contrast.

The thing is, outside of social events and writings, there are not many options for a grand master of strategies. So, over time, he turned into basically a detective for murder mysteries, and then kept bumping into the occult. So it was the odd situation of Adama turned Poirot turned Carnacki, just through the stories I kept being given.

Out of all my lot, he's probably the most fun to write in most non-violent situations, or find an excuse to turn Star Wars into every kind of classical fiction genre I can get an excuse to try. Detective stories, gothic horror, conspiracy thrillers, and even Les Miserables to a degree. All with a five-foot-tall bowler hat-wearing mantis man as the protagonist.

If you want to see more, check out the website here, or even the associated (if in various states of update) wikia here.

[stainlesssteellocust]

Random LF thoughts

Is it implied Johnny and Mhari got it on in book 8 or did I imagine that

how did pinky and brains make the perfectly preserved stone pigeons instead of ones that explode? Was it a joke?

When Cassie’s all “if you were the sort of man who found it easy to do something like that (rip a guy’s throat out and guzzle up his blood and life) do you think I’d bother with you” it doesn’t say that she aggressively kisses Alex and says the line with gobbets of gore smeared across her own face, but in my heart I know she did

The Delirium Brief wasn’t a favourite (though it had its moments) but it got me into The Sisters of Mercy so bravo Stross for that

I get why people were mad at Mo in TAS with the officer friendly stuff but it’s a lot easier to swallow if you’ve recently read TJM and saw how Bob got with Ramona

Speaking of The Jennifer Morgue, Stross treated the poor Cthonians way better than Lumley ever did

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A-Z Dictionary of Esoteric Terminology

for your next poem/story (pt. 1)

Esoteric—designed for or understood by the specially initiated alone; may refer to the occult

Affenicum - a word for soul

Barakah - soul power; a blessing bestowed by a holy person

Cthonian - something associated with the earth and the underworld

Deity - the personification of some force or concept of great magnitude; a being embodying the essence or entirety of an aspect of existence

Egrigor - a thought form created by will and visualization

Fana - a Sufi term meaning "becoming absorbed in God"

Godhead - divine Nature or Essence; the source of all emanation and manifestation, of which all deities are but aspects or facets

Host - from the Latin hostia, meaning "a sacrificial victim"

Ineffable name - a name for God which either must not or cannot be spoken

Jnana - literally "primordial knowing"; wisdom; the activity of enlightenment; knowing, which transcends all dualistic conception; perfect intuition

Kalpa - the longest describable span of time

Libation - the act of pouring a liquid on a symbolic figure of a deity, or on the ground

Mania - a Roman goddess of the dead who ruled over the lares and manes in the underworld; she is sometimes called the "Mother of Ghosts"

Neti - literally, "not this, not that"; it refers to the idea that the supreme godhead is transcendent and cannot be described or understood

Occult - from Latin occuiere, "to cover up"; not revealed; secret; mysterious

Pantheon - from Greek pantheios, "of all gods"; the arrangement or hierarchy of deities and spirits within a particular system

Qlippoth - literally "shells"; usually described as a plane/s containing demons, negative or disintegrating spirits, elementals, and the degenerating shells of the dead

Rapport - resonance; an interface relationship involving energy exchange such as the relationship between hypnotist and subject, control and medium, or object and psychometrist

Sandarace - an alchemical term for the fiery form of Spirit

Thaumaturgy - miracle working; magic used to make overt changes in the material world

Unction - ceremonial anointment with oil; sometimes performed as an act of consecration; also used in rites for the severely ill or dying, as in the case of extreme unction; in ceremonial magic, unction is often used as a symbol of the quest for initiation, or the dedication (consecration) of the magician to enlightenment

Vac - literally "speech" or "word"; cosmic reason or pattern, somewhat similar to the Greek idea of Logos

Wic - an Old English word meaning "to bend, to twist, or to wiggle"; a very old term for the practice of magic; also had been translated as "to weave, or to know"

Xeni Nephidei - spirits who delight to reveal to people the hidden properties of nature

Yaksha - a nature spirit which resides in a tree, usually regarded as female; are said to accompany Kubera, the god of wealth

Zen - a system of mental stillness originating in India, where it was known as dhyana; the goal is to permit experience by direct perception or intuition

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists

[wh40kartwork]

Lotara Sarrin / Obryk Of Lochos / Fabius Bile / Solar Auxilia / Traitor Auxilia / Cyclops Demolition Vehicle / Dies Irae / Cthonian Mole Mortar

[bitchofsteel]

Working with gene-kin was a surprise, but a welcome one. She was well aware of the rarity of her own kind; even her Noosemen were mostly plucked from the child-survivors of raids given pirated gene-seed. Gene-kin were rare but another survivor of the Long War was rarer still. Her own status as one should be immediately evident to him. Her people idolized the past through their armor festooned in bones of friend and foe alike  and the  symbols of a glorious yesteryear. Freyja’s own suit still bore the jade and brass of the Sons of Horus, accented in black and a blue deeper than the ancient Terran sea. Her people’s emblem resembled the lunar wolf of old, with a few modifications. The wolf’s head wore three eyes; one per side and the open eye of Horus in the center. Rather than a moon in its jaws, the wolf chewed a gilded serpent that surrounded its head like an ouroboros. “He is more than fit for this job.” Said Freyja, slipping into the rough and guttural dialect of unholy Cthonia. Her accent marked her as a denizen of the upper tunnels, as did her surname, not that Skalagrim knew it. “I have not met you before, brother. Where do you hail from; the upper or lower world?”

"Your people ruined me!" Freyja accused, pointing to incision scars along her right arm that could have only been the handiwork of a third legion Apothecary.

"Your underlings gave me this affliction and you will undo it!"

Her flesh was marred by hundreds of self afflicted scars, memories of lacerations and puncture wounds she'd wrought in an attempt to relieve her thirst for pain. Thousands of years ago, she'd been spared the shame of a dishonorable death.

This was the cost.

@bitchofsteel

It is rare to get an emotional response from the Chief Apothecary. He tends to be almost notoriously secretive and his will to deny Slaanesh even the slightest sacrifice in the form of feelings is ironclad. But this time he seems to allow himself an exception. A smile as if cut into his face with a scalpel shows amusement. He puts his fingertips together and rests his chin on them. "Do you know the old Terran tale of the people who wanted to eradicate a nick by cutting it away? That's the perfect analogy for your situation. Of course I can cut off your arm and replace it with a weapon of your - or better: my - choice. This is no more than a finger exercise. But what exactly is the point?"

[orcforce1]

My first real attempt at any kind of kit bashing. A Warhammer 40k Tech marine from my homebrew chapter the Astral Sentinels who are allied with a group of Kin from the Leagues of Votann. I switched the head of his Omnissian Axe with a plasma axe from a Votann Cthonian Berserks kit and I added the Bull crest and shield plate from a Einhyr Champion. I'm pretty proud of him.

[yonemurishiroku]

do you write on ao3 i see some posts of yours talking about writing and you’re one of the most true nico di angelo bloggers i’ve seen but cannot find out if you actually have one or not 😵‍💫😵‍💫 if not, who are some of your fav authors (i’m starved for good content of nico)

I do write on AO3! You can find my posted works here: YonemuriShiroku. (Yes I use same account name for every media i have sue me)

FYI my work collection consists of multiple ships/pairings that mostly revolve around Nico, including rarepairs. At the moment, I'm currently investing in the Hold me like we're going home series, which is a (mostly) platonic collection about basically Nico living in the Underworld and interacting with Cthonian deities.

As for my fav authors, whilst I do have my collection of writers to whom I look up and admire a whole lot, I think we should settle with a few whose stuff I consider is quite universal. Imma do this in pairings for easier following.

- buoyantsaturn is currently my main source of Solangelo fanfic content. Their work collection is an astonishing museum of PJO fanfics and I'm not even joking.

- kingburu is an excellent Jasico analyzer whose character study never ceases to astound me. Extensive world-building with the dedication of a thirty-chapter long-fic. I could never.

- lacaritademalfoy writes (Spanish) Percico and is one of the rare AO3 users I follow. They have tooth-rotting domestic Percico content and I don't know why but I'm hooked on that shit. Also there's mpreg (that's probably why...) Srsly I check their updates every day. no shit.

- betsib who writes unapologetically, ranging from Percico to Solangelo to Jasico and I love them wholeheartedly for that.

Above are the AO3 writers whose works are good, many, and pretty tame IMO. So I think if you're asking for recommendations, these would be good choices.

Ofc, there are many more writers whose exotic writing has captivated me, whose names I want to carve into stones, and whose praises I want to shout to the sky. There are many whom I love dearly simply because they have stuck with me in this hellsite of a fandom, and/or share my unhinged unfathomable perspective that no one else could (Love you my moots). But I digress. lol.

Hope you have fun reading!!

[innistrahd]

Reinforcements arrive!

A unit of Bladeguard Veterans, a Captain in Gravis Armour, Incursors, Scouts (second attempt at kitbashing scouts from astra militarum bodies), Infiltrators, and some Jump Pack Intercessors.

Overall, real happy with the end result for most of these. The kitbashing for the bladeguard went really well, and I'm happy with the style I went with for their power weapons.

The kitbashing on the captain was subtle but I think worked really good.

And I really like adding the hammer to the jump pack intercessor's sergeant. I've been running all my "thunder hammers" on my units as power fists during our crusade, since not everything that I've got hammers on can technically take thunder hammers (and also thunder hammers are kinda mid to bad this edition from my limited experience). I actually bought a box of Leagues of Votann Cthonian Berserks and used the hammer from one of them to make the hammer for this guy.

Let's see... I think the only other thing of note that came up is that I used two different types of washes for this. Most were washed with an Army Painter Quickshade Dark Tone, but I was running out of that towards the end, so I mixed up some water and Matt Black paint to make a quick temporary wash. Honestly, the latter was probably way better overall. The Dark Tone ended up looking really glossy on the models, but the matt black/water wash looks so much better I think.

I don't think I'm gonna be making more space marines for a bit, as I really shouldn't need anything else to add to the crusade army for a good long while, but I had a real good time putting these dudes together and painting them up.

And now, back to orks.

[louthingg]

PLEASE TELL ME ABOUT CTHULU i dont actually know anything about it outside of what i have absorbed from cultural osmosis which probably isnt that accurate

OK !!!!!!!!

the cthulhu is the main focus of the extensive cosmic universe ( the cthulhu mythos ) created by the famous author howard phillp lovecraft. the cosmic universe is comprised mainly of short stories and poems that hp lovecraft ( and other authors who contributed to the mythos—most notably august derleth ).

cthulhu is the high priest of the great old ones, a group of gigantic creatures that came, eons and eons ago, from the cosmic infinity that is outer space to rule the earth. their race is comprised of many many members, each with its own purpose. there are many unknown great old ones, but among the ones we do know are names like yuggoth, hastur, yog-sosoth, bastan and bokurg.

( NOTE: the great old ones are generally separated from the lesser races of alien species such as the mi-go, night gaunts and cthonians. although powerful and terrifying they are not necessarily gods )

when the stars are right they can plunge through space and time and from world to world. when the stars are not right, they cease to exist. they have form, although it’s not quite flesh and blood. it’s more shape of some kind that allows them to be perceived by humans and other earthly creatures.

obviously, each has their own ability, though many of the specifics are unknown. the cthulhu is most well known for his enormous size, devout cults and ability to turn any human who gazed upon his form for too long to insanity.

that last one is the case for humans who experience the presence of all cosmic entities—even if they’re not direct interaction with the great old ones. in “the whisperer in darkness,” akeley slowly lost his mind from too much exposure to the mi-go. in “the colour out of space,” the residents of the valley went insane because of the presence of that comet. the thing that makes the cthulhu mythos horror is exactly that. it proves to us several things:

our brains, although wonderful and complex, are simply not meant to handle certain concepts. no matter how hard one tries, they cannot fully wrap their head around the idea of infinity.

humans fear the unknown. we fear it desperately—almost irrationally. and our scientific discoveries are almost an effort to counteract that fear. sure we’re naturally curious but we’re also animals and animals live in a world of fear.

we love to worship. we love to believe that there’s something greater out there ( and maybe there is ) because it makes us feel less scared about the future. like how some will say “god has a plan” and maybe he does but what if it’s not a good one ?

now, the great old ones sleep in their stone cities all around the world. the locations of most are unknown. we do know that cthulhu sleeps in r’lyeh, the largest and most lavish of their cities, and that although he is dead, he dreams.

in fact, in the story “call of the cthulhu,” which supposedly takes place in the 20s, a group of sailors hunted down r’lyeh to try and find the cthulhu. they found him alright, and every single member of that crew came home either dead or mad.

so yeah. that’s the cthulhu. i could yap about a lot of other things and specific stories but that’s about it !!!!!

[drksanctuary]

Chthonian Camp AU + Young gods AU = Ancient Chthonian Court AU

“But my Leige, our love is forbidden…”

Ofc it’s a Nicobaster AU because it is me. I have the pencil and you don’t. You’re welcome Nicobaster household.

[dee-the-red-witch]

Going back to the old cthonian roots for today's Daily Doodle with a nice black and white Elder God.