#malky talks the horror

[malkshake]

Apologies for the lack of movement here. Long story short: got kicked out from the place I lived at over something petty, been busy with work/commissions/moving. I'm out now and getting better.

Commissions will remain open indefinitely until I'm back on my feet. Links here:

• Full body colored sketch

• Icons

• Chibis

(Heads up, I'm taking from the 27th to the 31st of march off to work on another project)

If y'all would like to check my kof wallpaper shop that would help massively as well.

• Kofi Wallpaper shop

Donations would be appreciated but aren't mandatory, amounts of 20 or more euro can get a small doodle of your choice.

• My Kofi

(an example of a small doodle)

Art will resume like usual eventually after things have settled. Peace out. ✌️💕

[sleepdepravity]

I’m so sad about devotion again it’s so good. I’m gonna cry. I can’t handle straight up horror because like, I guess many of them give the vibe of being mean-spirited? Maybe that’s not the right word for it, and also I admit that since I don’t really go for horror it’s not my place to say “this is definitively an aspect.” I think I’m mainly thinking about horror video games too. I think horror as a genre is like. Something built to be, in a sense, “hostile” to the audience. It’s trying to scare you, it wants to inspire dread, here’s a health bar, you are powerless, there’s the enemy better watch out. Devotion isn’t hostile to you, the player, it’s more hostile to the character, his troubles and family life, you’re more along as a witness. And even then, it’s not quite so hostile, despite everything, there is love, and oh my god I’m crying, I made myself cry Goddammit

[omgwtfbible]

Bonus Episode!

On this bonus episode, David is joined by the Keith Thomas, Dave Davis, and Malky Goldman, the writer/director and two stars of the new Jewish horror movie, “The Vigil.” They talk about Judaism and film-making before reading some pretty goofy passages about demons in the Talmud. Want more? Follow OMGWTFBIBLE on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. There are so many ways to listen to the latest…

[softschofield]

the convoy boys (before and) after the war, part two - malky ♡

part one (rossi and cooke): x

parry/malky: x

moodboard: x

malky is the one to struggle the most after the war, though none of his friends ever know until he off-handedly and sweetly mentions the full extent of his trauma and they’re all taken aback by the pure horror of it. 

he’d been one of the few to come from a happy home: his whole family living in two-up-two-down row houses on the same street in newcastle-upon-tyne, his parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins; a neighbourhood who knew and loved him, stores run by people who’d watched him grow up, a family that numbered half the city; christmases where the whole neighbourhood would bring their dining room tables out onto the street for one big party if the weather was fair, and where they’d cram into each other’s houses for singing and dancing and joyous, clumsy piano performances if the weather was snowy. 

those christmas gatherings were noisy, beautiful things; his parents would let him have a little glass of brandy, and it would fall to him to watch over the younger children and play with them, and often a cheer would go up somewhere near midnight and he’d be encouraged to plod out a few bad piano songs with his half-year training (that his parents had pooled their savings into) so everyone could sing along; and once it got late and the adults started to get drunk, malky would find a spare seat on the couch and watch the chaos with a shy, happy little smile and feel the warmth in his heart at the sight of all these people he loved and who loved him. 

his childhood was warm, and soft, and happy, and crowded. he was never lonely, but he was also never alone, and so he came to love and value quiet, peaceful moments by himself. he found a love for pressing flowers, one that came to mean calm and softness, and his bedroom was always filled with flowers, and he’d walk for hours along the river and through meadows and woods. when he was sixteen, he started working at a book binder’s for a half-deaf, grumpy old man, and that peace, that being able to just work at something in the quiet for hours at a time, became something he loved with all his heart. 

when the war came around, he was still living in his childhood bedroom with his parents. he’d never had any reason to want to move out; he was happy, and to all the neighbourhood he was still the baby of the family. he wanted to do his duty, in a vague, half-formed, guilty sort of war - he wanted to help his country, wanted to have an adventure, wanted to make new friends. but he never really expected to enlist, knew it would break his parents’ hearts. 

then conscription was introduced in 1916, and he had no choice. he was called up, assigned to the worcestershire regiment at random, given a few months of training that tore at the soft skin of his hands that were never made to fire a rifle, and shipped off to france as a replacement. 

almost immediately he and rossi formed a bond. malky had never had to go very far out of his way to make friends - in newcastle, you fell over them almost by accident wherever you went - and he was a little overwhelmed at the front. that first night, with shells rumbling in the distance and boys murmuring in the dark around him and little fires hidden under raincoats to avoid being seen by german planes, malky wandered between the little groups aimlessly. he’d catch the eye of someone, and smile hopefully and start to walk over to them, only to have them turn away and go back to talking to someone else. he’d hover over a group and try to think up something to say, and be snapped at. he wandered, helpless and dispirited and blushing, until a boy sitting by himself beside a little fire called him over in a gruff, quiet voice. there was nothing wrong with him, no reason he’d be by himself - he could have been the centre of a group if he’d wanted to be. but, evidently, he didn’t want that. 

and so, malky and rossi became the founding members of the convoy boys - because rossi, patron saint of waifs and strays, of the unwanted and the mocked and the outcasts, had called malky over. he’d mostly expected to be annoyed by the boy, to just keep him company for the evening until he got more settled in and could stand on his own two feet; and when malky first sat down beside him at the fire, where rossi was fiddling away at a part of a radio from headquarters, he’d hardly looked at him. but malky, gentle and unexpectedly witty in a delightfully deadpan way and northern to the core, had quickly established himself as an equal, and from then on it was malky and rossi. 

after that, they’d adopted others into their little group and taken them under their wing - cooke, too insecure and too desperate to prove himself to easily make friends; butler, too stand-offish and idealistic; jondalar, for obvious reasons. jondalar quickly became a leader of the group, and even he didn’t entirely realise that malky another of them - he was more than happy to settle into the background, to let others take centre stage, but he was no less one of the three leaders, one of the hearts of the group: he was the comforter, the one who gently soothed and patched up small wounds, the one who listened when someone had to break away from the group and stumble into the dark and weep about home and all the horror and trauma looming over them, the one who held them when they needed a soft, tender touch.

and then, after the war, he realised that while he’d been doing that for everyone else, no one had been doing it for him. he suffered afterwards in a similar way to kilgour - but while kilgour was aware of his own trauma, while he tried to hide it with cheerfulness and big smiles and the complete dismissal of his pain, malky was genuinely unaware that there was something wrong with him. he tried to go back to his old life, tried to slot right back into that world of noise and warmth and claustrophobic, stifling joy. his friends, his family, his cousins, his aunts, his neighbours - they were all over him, and for the first time in his life, he realised, with such a flash of horror that it made him sick, that he didn’t want to be touched. that he flinched at the sound of a train horn. that his heart was always thundering and frantic. that there were dark rings under his eyes. that the flowers on his walls made him feel hemmed in, and that he wanted to reorganise his bookshelf at 3am because he had to do something, anything, had to open a window, had to clean, had to repaint the dining room walls.

and it wasn’t that he felt he had to be someone for all the people who had known him - it’s that he honestly, genuinely, did not realise he was suffering from trauma. he thought that, now that the war was over, he could move on, and start a new chapter, and go back to smiling, to evening walks in summer, to giving piggy back rides to his young cousins. he thought he’d be alright. 

while he was in this confusing state of turmoil, this state of smiling happily through the day and not understanding the mess he became at night, he kept up his letters to his friends. sweetly. cheerfully. religiously. it’s a nice habit, he thought; i don’t understand it but i feel like i’m coming apart at the seams and this is the only thing holding me together, he meant. one by one they stopped writing him back, but that didn’t matter. he kept sending them.

he got his old job back at the book binder’s. didn’t last. he’d sit down at his desk and look at the clock and it was 10am, and then he’d just stare at nothing for a few minutes, losing himself in a soundless haze with his pulse in his ears, and he’d blink and it was 4pm. the old man fired him after a week and he stumbled out onto the street in a tearful daze. 

and that’s how his life went for months: happy, smiling, cheerful, and frantically tearing apart down the middle while all he could do was watch. blindly trying to stitch himself back up with soft coloured wool that just fell to bits at his touch, and stirring himself into a horrible frenzy of confusion and fear and sunshine.

then came the letter from cooke, telling him to come down to london. then came parry. then came healing. 

when he returned to newcastle, he was still broken - but he understood that that’s what it was, and his smile was a little more genuine for finally having a diagnosis, for knowing that life itself wasn’t fracturing, for knowing there could be an end to it, for knowing there’s hope. rossi was the only reason he was staying in newcastle, because it wasn’t terribly far from scotland and it made him feel close to him even when only silence greeted his letters. when rossi made the move to london, malky followed him. he smiled around at his childhood bedroom and breathed in the smell of it one last time before he closed the door, and he lugged his suitcase down the staircase and left it by the front door - and that evening, the whole street is alive with celebration. 

his parents cry, but they know that if it will make him happy, if it’s right, then he has to go - and all the neighbourhood will miss him, but they don’t lament it: they turn it into a celebration of a new chapter in his life. lanterns are hung throughout the street, and the tables are brought out, and people wheel their pianos out, and the warm evening air is alive with music and laughter, and everyone wants to dance with malky - most of all his kid cousins, which is an adorable sight - and he’s smiling and laughing just as much as he’s crying, and it’s happy. 

and as night falls, he hugs everyone he loves, and tells them he’ll visit and write every week and send photos, and his mother tells him she’s proud of him and hugs him the longest, and as he picks up his suitcase and walks to the train station, the whole street goes with him - skipping along at his side, and singing, and cheering, like a huge procession through the streets of newcastle. people come out of their homes and poke their heads out of windows to watch - and there’s malky, at the head of it all with his suitcase and a hundred people who love him all around him, and he’s laughing and sobbing at the same time, and it’s magical. it’s beautiful. it’s family. it’s home. 

they wave him off at the platform and laugh and cheer and blow kisses, with kids sitting on their parents’ shoulders and a little yapping dog perched on someone’s head, and then the train is pulling away, and he leans out the window to wave at them for as long as he can; and once he can’t see them anymore, he sits back in his seat and just cries - not only because he’s going to miss them, but because he’s so happy, he’s so overwhelmed, he’s so full of love. and when the crying stops, all that’s left is a dopey smile on his face and red, swollen eyes, and his chest full of warmth and light as air.

all his friends meet him at the station in london, and they’re just as much a home as the one he left. he gets a job as a baker and he loves it: his customers line up early every morning to get his pastries, and also to talk to the sweet, bashful baker with the shy, kind eyes and happy smile; in turn, he loves all his regulars and always comes out to the till to serve them and chat with them and wish them a good morning at work. he’s the highlight of their day and they his, and his friends just listen with befuddled, patient expressions where he gushes quietly about what his customers are up to - because malky is the one none of them tease. he’s too gentle for that. 

and he’s happy!!!! he does a lot of quiet healing (much of it at scho’s cottage in cookham when he mentions he’d love to see the countryside, and then it just becomes a tradition to go there once a month), and arranges flowers in his flat to clear his head, and takes up knitting as stress relief and knits blankets for all his friends, and he’s happy. and i love him. so much. 

[kittyvaltersen]

TASK #002: Character Development 

“it’s a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless automat of characters.”

― gillian flynn

BASICS

FULL NAME: katherine mae valtersen

NICKNAMES: kitty, kitty kat

AGE: twenty-two

BIRTHDAY: july 4th, 1996

ZODIAC SIGN: cancer

GENDER: cis female

PRONOUNS: she/her

FAMILY

MOTHER: astrid valtersen

FATHER: even valtersen

PARENTS: astrid & even valtersen

FAMILY: astrid watson (mother), timothy watson (step-father). even valtersen (father), holly north-valtersen (step-mom), kristina malki (step-sister), sylvia valtersen (biological sister)

SIBLINGS: sylvia & kristina, though kitty doesn’t acknowledge krissy as  being a “sister”.

CHILDREN (if any): n/a

APPEARANCE

FACECLAIM: madchen amick

HAIR COLOR: light auburn

HAIR STYLE AND LENGTH: typically, she keeps it natural. so, because she has thick and semi-curly hair, it’s pretty frizzy but voluminous.

EYES COLOR: dark blue.

HEIGHT: 5′3″ ft. / 1.6 m.

WEIGHT: 104 lbs. / 47.2 kg.

OUTFIT/CLOTHING STYLE: her style varies like none other. one day she’ll look like she just walked out of a 1990′s mystery-horror tv show (wink, wink, cough, cough, twin peaks), another day she’ll look like a very ethereal fairy or enchanting witch. depends greatly on her mood, tbh.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS (SCARS,MOLES): she has quite a bit of softer scarring on her inner wrists, seeing as she has dabbled with self-harm when she was a preteen. she has a huge “battle scar”, as she likes to call it, on her right knee from surgery to fix it’s dislocation. there’s also varying little scars throughout her body from childhood nonsense. 

FIRST IMPRESSION ON PEOPLE: people tend to think kitty is very child-like with a bubbly and sweet but almost complex ditzy way. if that makes sense?? lmao. because she’s usually really stoned when first meeting people, they often write her off as a bimbo. however, she’s very philosophical, has assets and layers to her personality that no one would have guessed, and she’s much more wise than your average person. she beats any label anyone wants to place on her with charisma because she has so many facades and contradictions within her that no one can get a clear read, including herself.

DESCRIBE THEIR VOICE: kitty kat has a very groggily voice that’s a bit scratchy and sultry. however, depending on her mood, she can either be very comical and animated in her voice or she can be very deadpan and quizzical. 

TATTOOS: tons. not to the point where she’s covered in them, but she has a few which are neatly hidden. most notably, she has a hand holding a blood-dripping knife on the meaty bit between her index and thumb in black and red ink on her right hand, a fairy behind her left ear in faded pink and green (her first tattoo), a intricate and quite large red and black rose on her thigh, and a white mandala on her upper back right below her neck and shoulders.

PIERCINGS: she has her ears pierced nine different ways to sunday on each ear, lmao. she also has a septum piercing.

HOME LIFE

HOMETOWN: technically oslo, norway.

VEHICLE: doesn’t have one. uses buses or her bike for transportation. 

PHONE: iphone 6s

PETS: has a pet rose-haired female tarantula named karma.

EDUCATION / EMPLOYMENT

HIGH SCHOOL: dropped out and took the GED.

COLLEGE: n/a

MAJOR: n/a

CAREER/OCCUPATION: con artist first and foremost, but also gunsmith for the reapers.

EMPLOYER: her step-father/the reapers?? idk, lmao.

YEARLY SALARY: under 60k a year. 

FOR LAW ENFORCEMENT

BADGE NUMBER:

WEAPONS:

TRAINED     IN:

LANGUAGES:

OTHER:

BELIEFS

POLITICAL/GANG AFFILIATION: reapers.

RELIGION: agnostic/pagan.

BELIEFS: she doesn’t have a strict belief system. she follows a lot of what most pagans believe, but she breaks the bounds of following any sort of tradition.

MISDEMEANORS: n/a

FELONIES: n/a

TICKETS AND/OR VIOLATIONS: n/a

DRUGS: smokes marijuana, nothing else.

ALCOHOL: rarely.

RELATIONSHIPS

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: homosexual.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: homosexual.

MARTIAL STATUS: single.

CHILDREN: none.

AVAILABILITY: emotionally unavailable. 

LOOKING FOR: nothing.

PERSONALITY AND INTERACTION

PHOBIAS: prev. phobia of the dark      

HOBBIES: reading tarot, conspiracy theories, spiritual research, history, painting, sculpting, drawing, writing.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: aloof, depressed, self-loathing, insecure.

POSITIVE  TRAITS: loving, quirky, giving, wise.

QUIRKS: taps nose when in thought, picks at cuticles, bites lower lip, grinds jaw when nervous, talks to self, paces, fidgets leg/hands.

SOCIAL MEDIA: n/a.

FAVORITES

LOCATION: on a highway overlooking the city.

SPORT: none.

MUSIC: loooooves, absolutely loves the cranberries.

SHOWS: murder mystery, deadline, stranger things.

MOVIES: cruel intentions, any halloween movie.

BOOKS: TONS! gone girl, girl with the dragon tattoo, this is how you die, sharp teeth, supernatural enhancements, a series of unfortunate events, the diary of sylvia plath, i could go on lol.

FOOD: shawarmas. 

BEVERAGE: grapefruit or pineapple soda.

COLOR: emerald green.

MISCELLANEOUS – CLICK THE LINKS FOR MORE INFO

MORAL ALIGNMENT:  chaotic good.

MBTI:  infj.

ENNEAGRAM:  type four: the individualist. 

TEMPERAMENT:  phlegmatic. 

CHINESE  ZODIAC: rat.

PRIMAL SIGN: seahorse.

TAROT CARD: reversed would be the magician, upright would be the star.

TV TROPES: deadpan snarker, cute witch, perky goth, the ophelia, the manic pixie dream girl.

SONG: she wants by s.o.s

[metalosis-maligna]

Got tagged by @clausus-intra-spiralus Rules: Answer the questions and tag 20 of your followers you would like to get to know better ————————— Name: Malachai Nickname: Malky or Mal Zodiac Sign: Pisces Height: 5.4 Orientation: Asexual maybe??? Idk man lol Ethnicity: Mostly Scottish but a bit of Dutch, Spanish and Irish as well (and serial killer according to Gran) Favorite Fruit: Rhubarb flavoured anything is honestly the best thing ever full stop. Mum's friend grows a lot of rhubarb so I'm gonna get some soon and make rhubarb crumble Favorite Season: All of them for different reasons Favorite Book Series: Is it sad I still feel really nostalgic for Goosebumps and Point Horror? Lol Favorite Flower: Black Hellebore, Higanbana, Sunflower and Foxglove Favorite Scent: Jasmine, raspberry, rhubarb, ocean Favorite Color: That weird washed out reddy-pink colour that appears in Yume Nikki a lot Coffee, Tea, or Cocoa: All three Cat or Dog person: I like both but cats are great Average sleep hours: Right now it's 5:00 AM to 12:00 PM Favorite Fictional Characters: oh heck theres so many. Currently there's Yoshika Miyako and Seiga Kaku from Touhou, The Ghoul from Horror From The Vault (my all-devouring hand friend), Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds (and Tobias in a "This Boi deserves a better plot (and life)" way) Number of Blankets you sleep with?: I have one (1) duvet and thats it Dream Trip: Sounds cheesy going to all of the culinary hotspots (Spain, Italy, France, etc.). But also Amsterdam because cafés lol. And also Salem, Centralia and Maine in the Autumn because aesthetic. Oh god i don't know haha Blog Created: I really don't remember but I wanna say 2012-13ish Number of followers: 137 people wow I don't really know 20 people so I'll tag @dragontame and @manflayer (I'm so embarrassed that you've followed me for so long and I still haven't yet tried to talk to you TT_TT) and anyone else that wants to do this

[malkshake]

If you're an artist using Society6 and haven't checked or received their email updating their terms of service, here's the gist of it.

Basically, artists will be getting a shipping fee cut out of their earnings; plus some subscription plan that you'll be forced to join.

My earnings from this place are meager as they are, then you expect us to pay for the fees plus some subscription plan?? To use the glitchiest, most frustrating site I've had to deal with?? Nah.

My store will be closing before the end of April. Fuck you Society6.

[malkshake]

Did a massive change to the theme of my blog, now it has an activity status for general posting and commissions, a small 'about' section and just looks a heck ton cleaner... for those viewing from a desktop ofc.

Also tried fixing the hashtags for all the drawings, but gave up near the end so uh, for (NEARLY) most of my art use #cute, #original character or #fanart

or just use archive and waste your day lurking, I'm not your mother.

[malkshake]

About the kofi commission confirmation: I'll message the selected ones tomorrow, I'm still waiting for two to reply with their references. 

If by tomorrow there's still nothing from em, I'll just go with the ones I already chose even if the batches aren't complete.

[malkshake]

Nearing 10k followers here and 20k in Twitter. If time allows it, I might do two giveaways.

[malkshake]

Shared everywhere, might as well post it here.

FAQ has been updated to make it clearer what’s fair game and what isn’t with my art, including visuals on what ain’t cool to get as a tattoo.

You can check it whenever in my links, description or riiiiiiiiiight heeeeere

A croc for your troubles. Malky out.

[malkshake]

Done with all commissions, might reopen again this month so keep them peepers peeled.

[malkshake]

Form’s closed, gdamn thanks for the awesome reply y'all ❤ sending replies tomorrow

[malkshake]

And with this I’m pretty much caught up to most of the drawings I dare to share. I’ll consider sharing other minor stuff eventually but for now updates will slow down in par to twitter.

Thanku so goddamn much for the warm welcome, good to be back to the tumblr shenanigans 💕

Malky out

[malkshake]

Heads up, I’ll be taking ko-fi commissions soon (sketch like). The announcement will be made here and on twitter at the same time so dontchu worry. Original characters, pets and fanart only.

[malkshake]

To the people that commissioned me, my drawing screen suffered a minor mishap and as of now I’m unable to draw on it >:T there’s going to be a one week delay while I solve this.