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The Nightgaunts attack from the shadows, using their barbed tails to "Tickle" victims into submission. And by tickle, I mean murder. And by submission, I mean death.
I saw her from a distance, gray and grim, as if she'd been crucified on the truck's radiator grill. But when I went up for a closer look, there was something more to her.
At first glance, she looked abused, another poor tortured toy. I'd seen plenty of teddy bears on radiator grills over the years, a few cabbage patch dolls and the odd smurf. One of these days, I imagine I'll see a Blythe on a radiator grill and won't that be a photo op!
But the longer I looked, the less sure I was that she was tortured at all. She'd ridden long and hard on the front of that truck. Her dress was in tatters and much of her face was gone. Yet she was still smiling. Still, smiling, think of that.
She had an eerie Children of the Corn meets the Wicker Man air about her. And I realized that she had been transformed and was inhabited by one of the old ones, something fierce and gray and blind and female and powerful. And I realized that whoever had strapped her to this truck was playing with fire. A victim she may have started, but now SHE was in control.
I saw a couple of guys twiddling with a utility box across the street. I walked over to them, stepping through puddles of slush, glad my shoes were warm and waterproof.
"Hey, I like your doll!"
The fellow nearest me gave a start and looked up.
"Yeah," He grinned, but seemed a bit anxious about my comment. "I found her. You should have seen her. I wired her to the grill." His grin became deeper and his eyes widened as he remembered his mischief. "Her clothes have worn away."
"So has her face." I hollered back over the road noise.
"She's been on there for years." He said.
"She's still smiling though, did you notice? She's still smiling."
He looked very uncomfortable again. I continued, "Does she have a name? Surely, you gave her a name. What's her name?"
"No name." He wanted this conversation over, I could tell. He glanced over at the truck and I do believe she made him anxious now.
I looked at her and felt the opposite. She was a fellow traveller. I felt solidarity with her, with all the gray worn female deities.
"She needs a name. She's a road warrior for sure. No eyes, and still she smiles. And that dress? She's exploded out of it like the incredible Hulk, like a superhero. You need to give her a name. She's awesome."
And with that, I left.
But I did take these pictures to share with you. Let me know if you see her.
I saw her from a distance, gray and grim, as if she'd been crucified on the truck's radiator grill. But when I went up for a closer look, there was something more to her.
At first glance, she looked abused, another poor tortured toy. I'd seen plenty of teddy bears on radiator grills over the years, a few cabbage patch dolls and the odd smurf. One of these days, I imagine I'll see a Blythe on a radiator grill and won't that be a photo op!
But the longer I looked, the less sure I was that she was tortured at all. She'd ridden long and hard on the front of that truck. Her dress was in tatters and much of her face was gone. Yet she was still smiling. Still, smiling, think of that.
She had an eerie Children of the Corn meets the Wicker Man air about her. And I realized that she had been transformed and was inhabited by one of the old ones, something fierce and gray and blind and female and powerful. And I realized that whoever had strapped her to this truck was playing with fire. A victim she may have started, but now SHE was in control.
I saw a couple of guys twiddling with a utility box across the street. I walked over to them, stepping through puddles of slush, glad my shoes were warm and waterproof.
"Hey, I like your doll!"
The fellow nearest me gave a start and looked up.
"Yeah," He grinned, but seemed a bit anxious about my comment. "I found her. You should have seen her. I wired her to the grill." His grin became deeper and his eyes widened as he remembered his mischief. "Her clothes have worn away."
"So has her face." I hollered back over the road noise.
"She's been on there for years." He said.
"She's still smiling though, did you notice? She's still smiling."
He looked very uncomfortable again. I continued, "Does she have a name? Surely, you gave her a name. What's her name?"
"No name." He wanted this conversation over, I could tell. He glanced over at the truck and I do believe she made him anxious now.
I looked at her and felt the opposite. She was a fellow traveller. I felt solidarity with her, with all the gray worn female deities.
"She needs a name. She's a road warrior for sure. No eyes, and still she smiles. And that dress? She's exploded out of it like the incredible Hulk, like a superhero. You need to give her a name. She's awesome."
And with that, I left.
But I did take these pictures to share with you. Let me know if you see her.
Current dropout vs the solution to two problems:
1. Increase the vertical tire clearance with fenders
2. Add eyelets for fenders and lowriders
I'll sweat the oldones out and replace with the type you see above.
I saw her from a distance, gray and grim, as if she'd been crucified on the truck's radiator grill. But when I went up for a closer look, there was something more to her.
At first glance, she looked abused, another poor tortured toy. I'd seen plenty of teddy bears on radiator grills over the years, a few cabbage patch dolls and the odd smurf. One of these days, I imagine I'll see a Blythe on a radiator grill and won't that be a photo op!
But the longer I looked, the less sure I was that she was tortured at all. She'd ridden long and hard on the front of that truck. Her dress was in tatters and much of her face was gone. Yet she was still smiling. Still, smiling, think of that.
She had an eerie Children of the Corn meets the Wicker Man air about her. And I realized that she had been transformed and was inhabited by one of the old ones, something fierce and gray and blind and female and powerful. And I realized that whoever had strapped her to this truck was playing with fire. A victim she may have started, but now SHE was in control.
I saw a couple of guys twiddling with a utility box across the street. I walked over to them, stepping through puddles of slush, glad my shoes were warm and waterproof.
"Hey, I like your doll!"
The fellow nearest me gave a start and looked up.
"Yeah," He grinned, but seemed a bit anxious about my comment. "I found her. You should have seen her. I wired her to the grill." His grin became deeper and his eyes widened as he remembered his mischief. "Her clothes have worn away."
"So has her face." I hollered back over the road noise.
"She's been on there for years." He said.
"She's still smiling though, did you notice? She's still smiling."
He looked very uncomfortable again. I continued, "Does she have a name? Surely, you gave her a name. What's her name?"
"No name." He wanted this conversation over, I could tell. He glanced over at the truck and I do believe she made him anxious now.
I looked at her and felt the opposite. She was a fellow traveller. I felt solidarity with her, with all the gray worn female deities.
"She needs a name. She's a road warrior for sure. No eyes, and still she smiles. And that dress? She's exploded out of it like the incredible Hulk, like a superhero. You need to give her a name. She's awesome."
And with that, I left.
But i did take these pictures to share with you. Let me know if you see her.
Dans un sanctuaire abandonné trône une multitude de cranes, symboles du culte malsain qui s'y est déroulé autrefois...
As much as people like to rag on H. P. Lovecraft for being racist, the only group he actually called "The Great Race" were these weirdos!
Kind of similar in concept to the Elder Things, the Great Race of Yith was a pre-human sentient species that ruled earth millions and millions of years ago.
So, what makes them so "great?" The Yithians are the only creatures to have mastered time travel, of a sort. They could transport their minds throughout history, swapping with the bodies of anything else with sufficient intelligence. In fact, when the time came for their species to finally go extinct (at the hands of the Flying Polyps), the Great Race of Yith simply projected themselves billions of years into the future, swapping with the bodies of the beetle-like Coleopterous race, which will dominate the earth after humanity is gone.
The Yithians appeared most prominently in The Shadow Out of Time, in which they swapped with a professor for a period of several years, simply to learn more about human culture. He, in turn, learned about the Great Race of Yith.
Another old drawing from the innocent years. Clark Ashton Smith's Tsathogua. Ink on composition notebook paper. From 1985...
Although usually identified as a creation of August Derleth, the byakhees first appeared in Lovecraft's story, "The Festival," though they were unnamed. Freakish, semi-insectile gargoyles, they serve the Yellow King Hastur and can fly in space, often offering hapless travellers transport beyond the realms of sanity.
Dress and overknee socks H&M, tights Calcedonia, Cardigan In Wear, Boots Wedins, Glasses the oldones
This piece is taken from Mansions of Madness, an Arkham Horror adaptation - and it represents a more surreal view of the Hounds of Tindalos. They are called "hounds" not because of their appearance, but instead due to their implacable, vicious nature. When one of these creatures springs from the Angles of Time, it means that it has your scent. You will never be safe.
After more than 20 years of knowing each other, this picture opend my eyes: Christian is Keanu Reeves! OMG!
"When you find the limits of sanity, you have not yet found the limits of the dreamscape."
One of the singularly most Lovecraftian miniatures ever, this Dreamblade piece is a-AAAAAGH! CLOSE THE DOOR! CLOSE THE DOOR! YOU LET IT OUT! YOU LET IT OUUUUUUUUUUT!
Who knows what kind of creature they were trying to bring into the world...
A typical scene from anything based on H. P. Lovecraft's work, but not at all from anything he actually wrote.
Professor Albert N. Wilmarth once scoffed at the supernatural, especially when people began to panic about strange supposed alien sightings. But then one day, a local named Henry Akeley sent Wilmarth a letter, claiming to have absolute proof of the supernatural - and why Wilmarth should stop discussing it. When Wilmarth finds Akeley, the old man explains the ecistence of the Mi-Go, insectoid fungi creatures from the depths of space. The Mi-Go, he says, have been on earth since the beginning of time, and wish to take humans with them to explore the cosmos - preserving their lives by removing their brains and placing them into jars before the journey. Akeley even showed a jar meant for his brain, and his upcoming trip. He assured WIlmarth that not only was this real, but the Mi-Go were benevolent aliens.
That night, Akeley investigated further after hearing strange, strange whispers. And then he made a discovery that not only proved the existence of the Mi-Go, but also scared him enough to flee, run home, and never speak of it again - he found a mask and fake hands, resembling Akeley. By the time WIlmarth had arrived, Akeley had already been replaced by a Mi-Go!
Now we know the real reason He rose from Ry'Leh. The Great Devourer wants your chocolate!
Jan 4 09 (1/30)
spotted at the supermarket, but not purchased. i like prunes just fine, but i don't trust danone's math. i guess they replaced a vanilla with a prune when the orchid market had a disturbance.
the shelf below had a few crates of oreo-flavoured jello pudding, which is just disgusting.
Robin Hines threw a Mardi Gras party. I didn't have a costume until at the last minute (well, 4 hours before to be precise) I decided to make a Cthulhu mask.
The mask itself would be based off an illustration I did last year for Disjecta's Halloween party.
I didn't have enough time to make a mask out of paper mache or plaster and have it dry by the party. I had previously made a couple of masks as promotional material for the Tape Type typeface. I used the same basic technique to make this mask. I added a couple of ping pong balls for the eyes and spray painted the whole thing gold.
Even though the thing reeked of paint fumes, I made it to the party dressed and on time.
Another creator of Clark Ashton Smith, Tsathoggua is an ancient elder god who resembles a large, obese toad. ell, he got mentioned by H. P. Lovecraft, but in sort of a "here's a random name" way, which Smith picked up on.
Tsathoggua's Formless Spawn are shape-shifting servitors, amorphous and more capable of taking varied forms than even the Shoggoth. In their natural form, they are liquid, but they like to take the shape of tentacled horrors after seeping into the room you thought was safe.
I'm still looking for old photos at my fotolog... My HD is not working, so I can't get the original ones... -__-'
Aww... this photo is so nostalgic! xD
I miss a little the time I could play around and cosplaying stuff... And I miss taking silly photos with silly faces..Like this one ...( xDDD ) ~~~^^"
But I like my new life anyway... ! ^_^ I can't remember of my life before meeting some people at university... ^^~
Good weekend!! =D
"It was a paw, fully two feet and a half across, and equipped with formidable talons. After it came another paw, and after that a great black-furred arm to which both of the paws were attached by short forearms. Then two pink eyes shone, and the head of the awakened gug sentry, large as a barrel, wabbled into view. The eyes jutted two inches from each side, shaded by bony protuberances overgrown with coarse hairs. But the head was chiefly terrible because of the mouth. That mouth had great yellow fangs and ran from the top to the bottom of the head, opening vertically instead of horizontally."
-H. P. Lovecraft, "The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath"
Gugs are ancient giants that dwell in the dark places of the world, banished there by the Great Old Ones. Their cities in the Dreamlands are vast, terrifying, inhuman even in their architecture. The Tower of Koth in the center of their city has a staircase that leads all the way to the surface, but is locked with a door that no Gug can open. Though nothing keeps the Gugs from ascending that stairway and waiting, silently by the door, waiting for some unwary soul to open the way...