larsons-pet

[larsons-pet]

i love when yellow designs make him visibly thinner than john, he looks like a frail and sickly little bird whose never been nurtured, and plus i just love the contrast of john having a healthy blend of muscle and fat while yellow looks like he's starved for months. especially fun if he's physically weaker and smaller, like he's been stunted by mistreatment and neglect

[larsons-pet]

stealing a car from an evil cultist, call that larsony

[larsons-pet]

hi mr lord!!

im not having a very good birthday :( was wondering if you could doodle a little yellow or oscar being happy? totally ok if not! ｡^‿^｡

happy belated birthday !! sorry it didn’t go so well :((

Here’s an Oscar introducing stew (one of god’s greatest gifts to humanity) to a sleepy Yellow

And also a slightly peeved yellow enjoying a popsicle. bc I think he’s the type of guy who would enjoy chewing ice.

[larsons-pet]

what if the king in yellow can speak french?

now presumably he'd know all languages, considering he's a god of performance and theatrics transcends any specific language, but consider this specifically; french is his favorite, as most of the original king in yellow stories take place in france

john and yellow having latent talent for french... both independently discover they can read specifically french flawlessly, most other languages were forgotten, but french? french was special for some reason

[larsons-pet]

Dreamlands photobash fit....

[larsons-pet]

Noel calls Yellow 'princess' and the poor little meow meow has a little seizure

[larsons-pet]

do you think his hands would be soft? larson's, i mean. i can't imagine he does much hard work, nothing to have calloused hands from. nothing past perhaps holding a pen or knife. do his hands feel different to arthur's? would their fragments be able to identify them based on the feeling of touch? whether they grab at their cloaks or stroke the velvety membrane that makes up the tattered robe?

[larsons-pet]

honestly i love the idea larson was, perhaps once upon a time, kayne's favorite, but he fell out of favor and fascination became resentment

it'd explain why larson recognized him so quickly, because he used to be the obsession of nyarlathotep, but nyarlathotep is dead and kayne's obsession is arthur now, and he's furious at seeing what, to him, is his ex

[larsons-pet]

thoughts on larson x kayne/nyarlathotep i’m going to start pulling teeth. throw arthur in there for fun. i’m begging. i’m ddyingginnf oh gogdddd i’m dyyyinggggfddfgffff iaaiurahagjjhhhjhhh -🎞️

you're in for a treat because i'll give you that and more

so obviously you've got the devotion in there, the reverence and the utter respect, the awe of the crawling chaos, the direct spawn of azathoth without layers of separation, but this dynamic is completely different if we're talking about kayne or nyarlathotep, because i'll use the lovecraft depiction for personality for the latter

for kayne? it's reverence mixed with fear, he's unpredictable, more than a god typically is, and is even easier to offend than a typical nyarlathotep. then there's his violent tendencies... he'll tear you apart if he hates you, he'll tear you apart if he loves you, and the weight of kayne's attention is painfully intense. if larson somehow ended up in his favorites (or perhaps his hatred comes from larson falling out of favor), i doubt he would come out without deep wounds left by curious claws and teeth, and no amount of sweet-talked praise would stop him from being left marred for life, because kayne's way of love is to dye you red with your own blood, to unravel your flesh to ribbons and tie a sweet bow around your heart using your braided tendons

nyarlathotep? we see him throughout the dream-quest of unknown kadath and his prose poem, aptly named nyarlathotep, be a jealous and petty creature whose ego is so fragile that a small insult sends him flying off the handle. with his traits, like his fanciful peacocking and his easy flattery, i honestly think nyarlathotep could end up in larson's palm, but it wouldn't be an easy journey and a single wrong move would infuriate him into mauling larson the same way kayne would in love. but he's more reasonable, more... flexible, and larson's praise might get him somewhere

and arthur mixed in? hhhhoh boy. for kayne, you have both his obsessions, or either his current favorite and his out-of-favor cultist, and i could imagine him using larson as just something inanimate. something like a toy to fill in space, because he's really here with arthur

...oooh ideas. nsfw beneath the cut

yeah kayne would use him as a toy if it came to larson/kayne/arthur. he would ignore him while larson's buried to the hilt in him, scraping his teeth across his head and threatening to bite down, riding him while he holds arthur in a death grip by the tie and back of his head, gripping his scruffy hair while his tongue pierces down his throat as he makes out with teeth pressed to teeth, maybe trying to reopen the wound in his neck from the inside, and reveling if he can make arthur bite down on his tongue hard enough to make him bleed. he almost hopes he'll bite it off and eat it, he wants to be inside him

and larson might not be satisfied in any other cirumstance like this, but he has his hands on the thrashing hips of the crawling chaos and his attention is on some other poor soul, meaning that there's a chance he'll come out alive. as demeaning as it is, to be used as practically a heated dildo, it's an awe-inspiring feeling to not only be this close to, but inside of, a god. and better yet, a distracted god who won't pay nearly as much mind to being studied and admired, or perhaps he does notice, and perhaps doesn't care, or perhaps he loves it, he loves the attention he's getting from both ends

and what's arthur to do about it? nothing. he's trapped by a mad god and his pet cultist, whose on a leash of a death threat and the madness of exultation, and he's strangled by a tentacle tongue trying to prod into his lungs or stomach, and his consciousness is fading, and then that tongue flexes as air fills his lungs for just a single sputtered gasp before being forced to hold his breath, not that he had a choice in the matter

[larsons-pet]

don't mind if i do

why the question mark? easy! it's a statement born of fear

- @larsons-pet

Don’t let your fear breed uncertainty 😤🔥

You know what you want…

[larsons-pet]

what if yellow became human when he was dragged from arthur. what if the separation was imperfect, and rather than being attached to a new host, he was given a new and terrible form all for himself. it isn't the right one. it's a weak, scared, fragile thing with gold hair and bronze skin and the most beautiful features of a statue, but it's all so wrong

where are his wings? his horns? his mask and crown? where are his tendrils, why are they toes? where have his feathers gone, why are they thin peachfuzz? his talons are reduced to flat thin nails and he feels so small compared to what he was meant to be. arthur's mistreatment reflects in a malnourished body, the ribs are visible, and he's terrified, he's so terrified

but larson is there, and after that initial shock of how it went - it wasn't supposed to be like this - he's exactly what yellow needed. he's gentle, he's careful in escorting him to a bed, he offers ladles of water and wine and covers him softly in sacred oils, he brushes his fluffy hair through and holds carefully to avoid pulling, he provides him with clothing. the finest of ritual silks, draped gently over him and pinned with golden chains around his body, accentuating his divine form rather than concealing it, dripping in shimmering and soft fabric that feels so nice to brush across his skin

but it's so cold out.

there is no leaving the manor. he doesn't know where he'd find warmer clothes, and to wander in these would spell certain death by hypothermia. it's a natural cage, the frigid rain, sleet, and snow. he can't escape, but why would he want to? he would starve even if he could make it out there, and even if he found the tavern, what danger would he be in there? after all, so strikingly beautiful and so desperate, wouldn't they drug his drink?

it's all the more reason to stay there with larson, to be safe and worshipped, offered fresh fruit and roast meat, wine brought to his bedside (perhaps with a bit of laudanum in it, but of couese its different if larson slips him something), to just be a god within these walls

it's so much easier to give up, and give in, isn't it?

[larsons-pet]

I'm sorry but it's them again. That's all I can and want to draw actually :0

Also it was supposed to be sillier! :/ They need to get STUPIDER and 5 times more DISGUSTING ASAP

It's his first crush in a hundred years don't judge him....

[larsons-pet]

kayne pussy teeth?

[larsons-pet]

Larson to Yellow:

[larsons-pet]

larson giving yellow the sweet little pet name of "canary"

the canary, the precious songbird, the sacrifice in the mines, the beautiful canary

[larsons-pet]

If you see me getting manipulated by a cultist/coal tycoon with a southern accent do NOT help me I'm exactly where I want to be

[larsons-pet]

you're gonna be delighted to know i'm writing a cosmic horror anthology with intent to publish. my folder is called "im the new robert w. chambers baby". so yeah sure i can write you a fic darling, expect it soon

yeah you know what. sure. entity dick tastes like concepts more than flavors. let me make a list

so first off we're gonna assume every single eldritch being has either both a dick and pussy, can shape-shift, or has some kind of equivalent alien reproductive method. yeah i genuinely just can't see any of them possessing only one or the other, how inefficient would that be with how rare they are?? you gotta get snail logic in here. if the gods are shagging you gotta get em both walking out eggbearing. they also all lay eggs to me #birdlife

anyways so the first one is the manager. he tastes like salt and some vague meaty flavor but oddly floral?? and for the concept side of things, he tastes like lost bets and the red and black of the roulette table. like the sticky floor of the bar and the sugar syrup drizzled in the drinks. like the sweat on the handle of the slot machines and the rot of the bodies of everyone whose souls are in the waylay. the way you forget moving through a liminal space

kayne is like if you just stuck your tongue into a salt lamp. he's so unbelievably acrid and it burns down the throat. your mouth goes numb with electricity and you can hear your own teeth so audibly. he tastes like spoiled meat and blood and so much salt and so much fear. he tastes like an animal that died running for its life. he has an undertone of copper and it. it really just tastes like rotten blood

the king in yellow tastes actually somewhat fruity? he tastes like he's fed off blueberries and rosewater, and that comes through. there's still salt of course, but it's oddly more fresh-tasting, and has a far more slick texture, more like cephalopod slime than cum. there's notes of dust of old stage sets and essential oils for ritual and the dried roses from performances of his play. there's warmth and sacred herbs and thick old curtains cascading down a stage

and then we've got john, john doe, golden boy himself. the king flavors are so dulled and there's a hint of hospital air, that sterile scent, but you can only pick it up as an iota of a thought and isn't strong. he tastes like old paper and library leather and cigar smoke seeped into furniture. like wooden pianos gathering dust on the keys and fresh pine and the fresh rot of marshland. and of course some city sweat. arthur probably inherits some of these flavors so i'm just saying

yellow next, best for last of course. imagine the notes of the king, but that garden is frostbitten and dead. the stage is rotting and the curtains have fallen off the railings. there's the wet taste of decaying wood and petrichor from a fresh melted snow. dead grass under the ice of a blizzard. the roses are crushed but still poking through. there's the bitter scent of cold and the citrussy scent of fear permeating through. but there's a power to it. there's a roiling sensation of power below the surface all the while though

so there's my character analysis/prose poems?? based on malevolent deity blowjobs