Just Realized How Much Malevolent Probably Pisses Off H.P. Lovecraft’s Ghost. Man’s Spent His Whole

malevolent fans i think this is my first time sharing the song i wrote about the podcast so here. enjoy. its one of my favorite songs ive written.

Most days it’s easy to forget that John was once part of the King in Yellow. His soft skin and charming awkwardness so far from the King’s many hollow facades.

But somedays Noel wakes up with a bone deep ache screaming down his limbs and a migraine hunting his steps. Somedays he wakes up and just knows that it’ll be a bad day.

Last week had one of those days. Noel tried to fight it off but the foul mood reached a crescendo after dinner. Arthur and Oscar were in the other room pouring over a new tome. John was idly sitting at the kitchen island while Noel finished up the dishes.

If you asked Noel exactly what happened next, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. The memory playing back like a broken record, skipping and distorting.

He remembers his head pulsing in time with his heartbeat, the feeling of the dirty dish water quickly becoming too much to bear and John’s voice.

The god fragment was asking him if he wanted to go see a film with him. When Noel declined, John’s tone shifted, becoming cough syrup sweet, golden, manipulative, he barely got a few words out.

Next, Noel remembers being on his knees on the floor. John beneath him on his back, staring up at Noel.

Noel’s hands around John’s neck. Squeezing, screaming that the King couldn’t take him back.

More hands, at his back, pulling, tearing. Voices muffled and distorted. “Noel stop!”

John’s hand, cradling Charlie’s face.

malevolent 52 spoilers

ok not to Cope. but surely he's alive right chat . how r they gonna do another season without him. probably another fucked up dream that kayne put him in to manipulate him and john. but also harlan is evil and mean so I don't know

I couldn’t do an actual drawing for day 4 cuz i had art block like all day yesterday T-T

but I guess this is better than nothing

hello friends! i'm getting back into the swing of writing, so here's a teaser for my malevolent vampire au. enjoy! :)

1934 – Arkham, MA:

A quiet dripping echoed in the dark office of Yang & Lester: Private Eyes. From the smoky door window, muddled yellow light trickled into the room where it fell upon Arthur Lester slumped in a crumpled kneel. His head lolled loosely, chin drifting from shoulder to sternum as a heavy fuzz filled his ears. Shapes and colors slowly came into focus as he stirred.

Mostly one color: red.

Pooling blood had spread thin across the hardwood floor, staining the air with a metallic tang in its wake. Arthur couldn’t pinpoint the source—was it him? His upper body was wet—he could feel the damp, clinging fabric without looking. He couldn’t feel the fresh pain of a wound, but a wooziness weighed on him and his aching limbs. The heaviness hung over him—around him? Gravity was unstable as he tried sitting up, and he would have fallen face-first onto the bloody floor if not for a sure set of hands gripping his shoulders.

His eyes widened. I’m not alone.

“Where am I? What’s happened?” Arthur whispered, scrambling for his memory and trying desperately to shake off the grogginess lacing his bones.

“Don’t you remember?” The bemused voice was deep and resonant. It didn’t sound familiar.

“Who are you?”

“Who am I? I’m a friend. The best friend you have right now...” The broad hands held his shoulders firm, leaning Arthur back until he rested against the solid torso behind him. “...the only friend you have right now.”

Only friend? But I have a friend, I have—Parker! Alarm bells rang over each other in Arthur’s mind. Memory eluded him, but emotion erupted within his chest at the name—affection, shock, loss, guilt. Parker was a cherished friend, but something went wrong and he was gone. (Dead?) Flashes ricocheted in Arthur’s brain—a strange book, a great shadow, so much blood, and the ragged sound of strained breathing. (Parker’s breathing? He couldn’t hear it now. Oh god, was Park still breathing?) An urgency struck Arthur then, his veins lighting up with adrenaline as he tried again to sit upright, to get his feet underneath him and stand.

Instead, his muscles simply shook from the effort. Arthur wanted to cry in frustration—he was weak and dizzy and confused and increasingly ashamed of whatever part he played. Specifics escaped him, but guilt and remorse welled inside his chest all the same.(And now he’d lost Parker just like he lost his parents, Bella, F—) His breath quickened, whimpering lungs succumbing to hyperventilation as he trembled in the stranger’s hold.

“Relax, take a deep breath, relax,” the voice soothed, and, almost against his will, Arthur’s body instantly eased back from its fright, taking forcibly measured breaths. The shock of the immediate calm nearly sent him careening into another panic all over again. What in the world?

“Calm down, friend. I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” The hands cupping his shoulders gently shifted, pressing warm palms against his biceps, then his elbows, and back up again before repeating the motion.

“Oh, okay,” Arthur mumbled. Despite himself, he found the gesture reassuring, and he sagged further against the upright chest behind him. Within his core, he felt what he could only describe as a pull towards the stranger, as if encouraged to agree with every deep utterance murmured in his ear. Arthur knew better than to trust him, but the desire to do so was steadily growing with each sweeping caress along his arms and shoulders. Leisurely, a sense of comfort swelled within him, promising safety and relaxation to quell his erratic heart.

Lucidity was slippery and fleeting in the face of said reassurance, but a stubborn kernel of guilt affixed itself in Arthur’s chest. He clung to it desperately, a life preserver buoying him just above the rising tide of emotions that were not his own. His shame anchored him to his sense of self as memory thrashed and drowned beneath the calming waters.

The room was steadily losing familiarity when he noticed an oblong shape catching the meager light—the sole of a leather shoe jutting upwards. Shadowed further: a man’s body, limbs flung awkwardly where it lay collapsed on the floor. Jagged tears and dark stains afflicted the clothing, the neck marred by reckless maroon punctures. The face was… one Arthur should have known. Were they acquaintances? No, they had to be more, but Arthur couldn’t remember, couldn’t quite put a name to the glazed monolid eyes. Grief pulled his heartstrings in gradually weakening tugs until all he felt was a mild confusion.

The arm rubbing his left shoulder reached out then, retrieving a book that had fallen open to the side. Sketchy runes glowed like banked embers from the pages within, its hardcover waterlogged with blood. Arthur’s eyes followed the book as the stranger removed it from sight. He didn’t get a good look at it before, but he wanted to see it again. (Again?)

The voice hummed, capturing Arthur’s attention. The sound was all-encompassing, reverberating in his bones as his focus narrowed entirely to the gentle thrum.

Angling his head, Arthur peered back at the figure looming behind him. The movement strained his neck and shoulders in an unexpected way, but the effort was worth it. Inky black fabric cloaked the stranger, its hem lined with gold flourishes glinting in the dim light. Long strands of dark hair slipped beneath the hood to frame skin smooth as porcelain. The man's jaw was slathered in slick crimson, and smirking lips revealed the tips of undeniable fangs. Acute golden eyes openly gazed back, drinking him in.

“My name is John Doe, and you, Arthur Lester, shall be my first thrall.”

A talk with mom

Weekly what

What

was about to make a "gay people can never flirt normally" post about arkayne but realized kayne does actually.

-"my love" and similar: self explanatory. normal flirting

-giving him a dagger: shiny trinket like crow. kayne's not the one who decided to stab himself with it

-helps with his wound in coda and probably also part 28

-watches his entire life in this and thousands of other timelines: he wants to know more about arthur. normal crush behavior probably

-writes and directs a christmas special starring one of those other arthurs: creative expression. like a journal to him i think.

-sends his enemy to hell, kills his enemy-turned-half-situationship, and sends his other situationship to spain (?): he just wants some alone time is that really too much to ask

-plays him a song on the piano :)

-sends him on a fetch quest to the 1200s: he got nervous idk. don't we all

Antoine Malevolent, ladies and gentlemen.

on EVERYBODY’S soul charlie dowd will return tonight