carlosadama:

I’m going to show off now, friends got Jock to draw this for my birthday once

la-arcane:

Mi-Go concept 04 by ~NathanRosario

I love seeing how different artists illustrate Lovecraft’s many creatures, especially the Mi-Go because The Whisperer in Darkness gave such a great description of them.  I’ve seen lots of art, but I think this concept drawing may be my favorite Mi-Go depiction.

matesandmayhem started following you

thebatcow:

matesandmayhem:

thebatcow:

… I guess I should just resign myself to a lonely life.

Dammit.

Ah well, tradition an’ all tha’. ‘ll tell ya what though, bein’ tha rebellious sort I ‘m, ‘ow about a walk an’ ya can bum a cig off a me. Tell me what a cow like you ‘s doin’ ‘n a city like this.

Really? You are such a sweetheart~! *nudges his chest with her nose*

[after an awkward moment he scratches behind her ear] Tha’s me.

So. Batcow. Tha’ mean ya know kung-fu?

I just remembered Alan Scott’s weakness is wood. Well done, DC. Well done.

thelaughingmagician:

matesandmayhem started following you

thebatcow:

… I guess I should just resign myself to a lonely life.

Dammit.

Ah well, tradition an’ all tha’. ‘ll tell ya what though, bein’ tha rebellious sort I ‘m, ‘ow about a walk an’ ya can bum a cig off a me. Tell me what a cow like you ‘s doin’ ‘n a city like this.

matesandmayhem started following you

thebatcow:

matesandmayhem:

thebatcow:

Oh hello handsome #2~

…ello, mate.

I don’t suppose you would fancy a night of grazing under the starlight? The other handsome guy with the white in his hair brushed me off. Excuses. Something about a husband, bah.

Well tha’ depends. Ya see, ‘n me part ‘f tha world a beautiful lady like yerself ‘as ta solve a riddle fer a bloke before ‘e gets tha pleasure ‘f ‘er company.

Now. ‘ow d’ya kill somethin’ that death only makes more powerful, when making it alive isn’t feasible?

matesandmayhem started following you

thebatcow:

Oh hello handsome #2~

…ello, mate.

They dreamed of rough hands and black cats. Scratching their back against stone and bathing in dirt. Little hunting games, giggling games and stealing smoky meat games. Little squirts of blood and tussles of fur, sore paws and sprained necks and it smells like ruins and is good.

Stone ruins that smell of the stinging human water, crackling snakes that fry you in seconds flat and bright sun that gets stronger every day.

They look up and know, the fox and the thing the fox has been, look up and know that here at the end of all things, they are not content. Life is neither perfect nor wretched, in the last smouldering days it is heartrendingly, preciously only life. And that is enough for a toothy smile and a mad giggle, and they slip back into wakefulness.

The magus starting up from the chair he’d fallen asleep in and cussing at his sweat soaked shirt.