chthonicarcher

[chthonicarcher]

"we never really said goodbye"—a playlist for my fankid, Enid 💖 (tracklist below the cut!)

featuring the Apples in Stereo, Pinback, Radiohead, Modest Mouse & Arcade Fire & the Shins & more! 🥰

[chthonicarcher]

My fic this year for the @davekatfanswap features artwork by @chthonicarcher and a custom mocktail created by roxy ;)

Read Tonight, I Really Got It Bad here!

daveys red declicous *delicious lol recipe:

1. add to a cocktail shaker and shake in the most unnecessarily dramatic way possible:

2 shots apple juice

1/2 shot fresh lemon juice

add grenadine until it is your most fav shade of red

ice

2. strain into glass of your choice, then fill with sparkling water

3. add cherry garnish

4. give to dave because this shit is for him

(if you want to unmock your mocktail replace one of the shots of aj with a shot of vodka or gin)

Thanks @saltinesy-spoons for the prompt! I really enjoyed writing this :)

[chthonicarcher]

Yes there's a typo in the first option but I am not redoing the whole thing

[chthonicarcher]

[chthonicarcher]

6/6

[chthonicarcher]

"we never really said goodbye"—a playlist for my fankid, Enid 💖 (tracklist below the cut!)

featuring the Apples in Stereo, Pinback, Radiohead, Modest Mouse & Arcade Fire & the Shins & more! 🥰

[chthonicarcher]

Problem Dave

[chthonicarcher]

it isn’t the first time you’ve had this dream.

(that’s how you already know it’s a dream, you guess.)

the small, almost claustrophobic dwelling you find yourself standing in is dimly lit with lamplight; it’s been kept tidy enough, but the mismatched chairs and the ragged rug and the wooden shelves and all the odd little things on the shelves are just a bit too bent and banged and tattered, and everything seems dingy at the edges; the spare concrete floor and the thick windowpanes are encrusted with salt, making the scenery appear as an abstract blur, only really discernible from the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.

it’s a sound you’re very familiar with. whenever you aren’t dreaming, you live in a hive by the sea, too.

you take a seat by the dying fire, glancing at the pages of the open book that’s been left there. you won’t be able to read the looping words scrawled there by some unsteady hand—you already know that from the many other times you’ve had this dream. that doesn’t stop you from trying, though.

there is a distinct feeling of absence here, you think, after you give up and settle deeper into the comfortably worn chair. it’s too big for you. you aren’t short by any means, but your feet almost don’t reach the floor.

absence—as if someone was here just moments ago, just before you arrived. you can’t explain it, only feel it: a charge in the air, someone’s unbreathed breath left behind, somebody’s trail of thought you’ve tripped across. something infuriatingly intangible that’s here but that isn’t yours.

from the small adjacent kitchen comes a wavering scream, steadily increasing in volume—shit, that always happens after you sit down in the chair and try to read the writing. somehow, it still manages to startle you, just like it did the first time.

even now, you are far too nervous to laugh at yourself for it, even though you know it’s only the kettle.

dutifully, you get up to turn off the hob. the scream dies down to a sigh.

you follow the same steps you always do when you visit this place. one by one, you examine the items carefully laid out there in the kitchen: the chipped mug, the leaf juice bag, the spoon and the small bowl of sugar.

(what if you tried something different this time?)

so, ignoring the arrhythmic banging sound coming from behind you—you know it’s only the door, left ajar and caught by the wind—you fix yourself a cup of tea. there’s no grub milk to be found anywhere, but you suppose you can do without it, under the circumstances.

normally, after turning off the kettle, you’d retreat away from the kitchen, further inside—away from that repeatedly slamming door. you would find your way to a long spiraling staircase made of thick rusting metal and begin to climb, up and up, toward the steadily turning light at the very top, driven there by a burning curiosity.

and just before you would reach it, you would wake up, pump biscuit thumping hard in your chest from the long, strenuous climb, and you would go find your lusus and tell him about it, maybe, or just go back to sleep, or give up and just get out of your recuperacoon for the night—see if maybe anybody was online to troll yet.

well, not this time. this time, you stand in the cramped kitchen and sip your tea, and you wonder about the writing in the book, and the absence.

(why not try going through the open door?)

you stand rooted to the spot, leaning against the counter oh so casually, and warily watch that door slam itself against its frame again and again while you drink the tea.

a little shiver tears through your body, though you aren’t cold. you wonder if Einnal would make fun of you for being afraid, if he was here. that’d be rich. he’s probably the biggest coward you know.

you set the mug down decisively and stride toward the door, catching it mid-swing.

the waves are high, but not the worst you’ve ever seen. the salt spray catches you in the face as you lean out the door. it’s nice, though, familiar.

from a glance, it’s maybe an hour before dawnfall. the clouds are boiling, tumultuous as the sea, the sky beyond them still dark as a bruise. every half minute or so, the sweeping beam of the lighthouse briefly illuminates the stormclouds. every time, though, it’s gone too soon, leaving only a bright afterimage behind.

you lean further out of the doorframe, into the chill wind, to squint up at the pale shapes lurking among the clouds. they’re big—very big. that’s about as much as you can see from here.

there’s nobody else out here. you are alone.

you grip the edges of the doorframe tightly when your feet begin to leave the ground, but it’s no use. you’re airborne in moments, along with several sizeable chunks of rocky coastline.

(it’s easy enough to keep yourself calm. it’s only a dream, after all.)

slowly, you float up and up and up, parallel to the lighthouse tower. it’s massive, yet still dwarfed by the jagged, rocky landscape it’s nailed into like a stake. you don’t recognize this shoreline at all.

fleetingly, through the windows, you can see a shadowy figure inside the tower, steadily climbing up those spiral stairs—he looks like you, could that really be you? yourself, dreaming a different dream? or…

you’ve lost sight of him. you can’t see through the windows at this angle.

you look down. the sea is wild beneath you. it’s colder now, up here, caught as you are in the whims of the wind. you sort of wish you had worn a sweater to sleep.

at last, your flight has brought you level with that massive beacon at the top of the lighthouse—and then higher still, with no way to stop or slow down.

the figure emerges from the staircase, stepping out onto the top level.

it can’t be you, after all. it’s someone else, someone—older, maybe, though there certainly is a resemblance.

his long cloak billows dramatically in the wind.

he’s missing his right arm.

he’s looking right at you.

you stare back at him as he gradually recedes into the distance, smaller and smaller, until he’s no more than a speck.

you’ve flown so high—you’re about to be swallowed by the turbulent swirl of thick, dark clouds above you. for some reason, you find yourself holding your breath, as though you’re afraid you might drown in them, but no such thing happens. the moment you’re submerged into the sea of clouds is perfectly painless.

you can’t see anything anymore, though. you have no sense of direction left at all. even the sounds of the ocean are significantly muted, way up here.

a few minutes pass before you realize

(you’re not alone)

there are gigantic creatures circling you from a distance—the same ones you saw from the ground, perhaps.

that distance is rapidly shrinking, though. they’re swimming closer every minute. dream or not, you’re finding it more and more difficult not to outright panic—you have nothing here to defend yourself with, you’re not even wearing shoes, for fuck’s sake—

but then—then—

you emerge from the dark clouds entirely, abruptly, clumsily. you’re still ascending, Alternia’s ever so slight curvature now visible to you at this dizzying height. the impending dawn is threatening the horizon in earnest now.

the sharks don’t follow you out into the open air, preferring to remain half-concealed in the clouds instead. you almost can’t believe your luck. you watch their fins circling below and can’t help but exhale a shaky breath, but…

but before you can feel too great a sense of relief, you look up,

and see a creature there far larger than any shark, of either the sea or sky variety: a giant sky-squid, white as bone. its tentacles alone seem to span half (maybe more) of the length of the shoreline, far below.

it’s marked with countless scars, from countless battles. there are thousands of tridents and spears and harpoons stuck in its massive body, the great majority of them broken, it seems. one of its tentacles has been entirely blown apart, the ragged stump now long-healed, by the looks of it.

it’s seen you now. it seems to regard you not only with blank, stupid, wild-animal hostility, but…with caution. maybe you’re only imagining it.

one thing you know for certain, though, as you stare unblinking into its huge and ancient eye: this is the bastard that took your arm.

no doubt about that.

in spite of its great size, it’s fast, and you’re unarmed. you never stood a chance.

you scramble for one of the weapons stuck in its mantle, anything—but none are even close enough to reach, let alone to pry loose. the last thing you see before you’re swallowed whole is the lighthouse, far below, still signaling steadily across the waves as the sun begins to rise.

---

[chthonicarcher]

mornings

[chthonicarcher]

low effort lasso tool daves

[chthonicarcher]

[chthonicarcher]

my guys! (they kinda go with Randy’s playset :] (playset sold separately))

[chthonicarcher]

the sequel to dogs

GRAMPY: PHWWWEEEB.

RADNOR: whuh

RADNOR: oh

RADNOR: where did u--

GRAMPY: GROOOKPHHNNT?

===

RADNOR: man i rly thought i threw that out

RADNOR: is just smth from that dream i had. yk

RADNOR: itz rly nothing tho. dont think i captured him.

RADNOR: the memory tendz 2 be ambiguous 2 me, but he…

===

RADNOR: he woz softer than that.

RADNOR: smaller.

JUDY: A PUPPY?!?!?!

JUDY: Ohhhhh!!!

===

JUDY: Pretty baby

JUDY: Pretty puppy baby

JUDY: Hey puppy, What's your full name?

JUDY: Whats youre entire name, funny?

JUDY: What's her name?

MOTHER: He's a boy. He doesn't have a name.

===

JUDY: That's too bad…

MOTHER: Point being that YOU name him, Judes.

===

JUDY: Oh! Howsabout G--

MOTHER: I know you know that Gosalyn is not a boy's name.

JUDY: Fiiine :P

===

JUDY: …I dont know any boys name's though

MOTHER: None at all? Not even--

JUDY: Nada! None

MOTHER: Hmmm…

JUDY: Whos my favorite little no-name! Yes you are!

===

JUDY: My best nothing boy in the entire universe!!!

===

RADNOR: oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit

RADNOR: lil fuckin dude…

RADNOR: get a loada this guy

THE SEQUEL TO DOGS: YIPYIPYIPYIPYIP

RADNOR: haha thats watt im sayign

RADNOR: u made this from scratch?

GRAMPY: BWEEGHPHHT.

===

JUDY: Look at him run! Where are you off to in a hurry huh?

JUDY: The Dognado, takin' the east coast by STORM!

===

RADNOR: goddamn

RADNOR: look @ him waddle hah.

RADNOR: u got places 2B lil guy

RADNOR: shit 2 do

RADNOR: yea me 2 bubby.

RADNOR: he fuckin ruuuuuulz.

RADNOR: this is the best 1 yet grampy

===

GRAMPY: OOKRGRPHNT?

MOTHER: So about that name…

RADNOR: uhh. the name?

MOTHER: Maybe you could pull one from something you like?

RADNOR: idk…

JUDY: Oh, like Tiny Toon Adventure's? I was just watching that!

RADNOR: my data from that dream is… i cant pull from it.

MOTHER: In that case, how about…

RADNOR: maybe…

MOTHER: "Buster"?

RADNOR: … "bupkis".

JUDY: Yeah, I think that suit's him just fine!

RADNOR: yea… soundz abt rite.

[chthonicarcher]

beholed. a little playlist for my angle child radnor... RADNOR TYPE BEAT. a compilasche of trax for robot brain snax...! kinda music he likes most.

& you can listen to it... [RIGHT HERE]!

and thanks if u do. <3 take care

[chthonicarcher]

organisation xiii wepeel + jonnas effect @chthonicarcher

[chthonicarcher]

witch of space meetup ✨

happy birthday @cgtg!! 🍰🎈 you're such an inspiration to me every day & I'm so happy to know you. + I hope you have a wonderful day :]

[chthonicarcher]

you can meet everyone and like them too

KORBID FARROW tba (pronounce like tibia)

the "avant guard", the "psychopomp-ous", the fabled hater of downers

THE DOOM SPIRAL. THE DOOM SPIRAL. GUILT. SHAME. REGRET. ETERNAL. (but we stay silly)

a pioneer in horti-sepulture, or graveyardening 8)

ONE MILLION SWEEPS PLAGUE WAR. GHOULS AND SPECTRES ARISE AT DAWN. WE WILL RAVAGE THIS LAND.

loves to make collages and discover fucked up beasts

RADNOR ADHARA garbledTransmission

raised on machinima, YTPs, & slamdroids (robotic pro wrestling).

finds a way 2 use every device for his own sick&twisted purposes (fun art & music)

being grounded & realistic =/= bein a downer. cmon. hes fun. gr8 @ parties

can quote fesh pince to u in full, including all sound FX.

hungover on grubers (grub burgers) @ all times.

JUDY DUCLAIR goodieGosalyn

Head in the clouds and a very long to-do list!

Real life is just like cartoons, and if it isn't then it sucks and is stupid and she doesn't care. :P

An avid helper, to the point of kinda just herding people around like a sheepdog. Dishes it out but can't take it!

A roleplaying fanatic -- MMOs, forums, YouTube comments, you name it, shes playing pretend in it

Hasn't been out very much since Enid left

BELBEE SOLLAK caegarsConundrum

ONE OF ALTERNIA'S LEADING "UNTHINKERS"

FOLLOWING IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF HER "ANCESTOR" WHO "MYSTERIOUSLY VANISHED" SEEKING "THE TRUTH"

WANTS TO KI(SS/LL) TROLL GIORGIO A. TSOUKALOS ON HIS "BIG STINKY NUG PLATEAU"

WILL NOT HESITATE TO BEAT THE SHIT OUTTA YOU IF "THE VIBES ARE OFF"

"TROLLS TEH FORUMZ" TO "ENLIGHTEN PEOPLE" TO THE FRIVOLITY OF "COMMON" KNOWLEDGE

ALHENY SOLLAK thaumasTribute

a Bit of a SmartyPants, a Bit of a BookWorm. not Much else to Do.

if you don't Agree, she didn't Explain herself Correctly.

Claims to be an Aspiring traumaturge, but Secretly wants to be a Glittery Princess Fairy.

spends Most of her time half-submerged in Slime.

writes a Lot of fanfiction, naturally Behind a pseudonym.