justafriendlymonster

[justafriendlymonster]

Not dead! Just highly inactive on this blog, lol.

[justafriendlymonster]

"We don't have the whole night to do this."

[justafriendlymonster]

isn’t there a goddess out here willing to turn me into medusa so men can’t look at me without immediately suffering the consequences

[justafriendlymonster]

"I see you have settled into my bathtub well enough."

[justafriendlymonster]

How to Tell if You Are in a Gothic Horror Novel

[via The Toast]

All animals are underfed, black, and vaguely eldritch. They all hate you.

You are a man. If you’re a woman, you are the love interest of the man, and you are dead.

All the women you know have died in childbirth. All the children you know are orphans. You are an orphan.

It’s foggy. If it’s not foggy, it’s smoggy. Or misty. Some form of particulate matter is in the air.

You are arranged to be married to someone sickly.

You tend to dismiss odd noises, prophetic ramblings of mad men, and the death of small animals en masse with a shrug and an offhand “It’s probably nothing.”

Everyone’s last name starts with “Van” or “Von Roth.”

One of your children is crushed to death by a humongous helmet on the day of their wedding.

Everything is gloomy, like that song “Blue” by Eiffel 65 but replace the word “blue” with “gloomy.” You are gloomy. Your life is gloomy and the castle you live in is gloomy. Your underfed black dog is gloomy.

Skulls feature prominently in all interior decorating.

You are in a small town. There is a deep dark secret that only the members of the town know. The outside world can never find out.

It is also a sleepy little town. “Nothing ever happens around here,” says one of the locals. It’s true. Only three people live there and they all died in childbirth.

You go wandering somewhere very cold, and almost freeze to death, but are saved by the fortuitous arrival of a crew of explorers.

You are in a monastery.

You are on a moor.

There is something in the walls (or the wallpaper, or the pipes, or the floors).

Your house has a garret, which is firmly locked for reasons you will not disclose.

You hate everyone, except for one woman you are incredibly attracted to. She hates you.

At least half of the people you know are mad. If you are not yet mad yourself, you are probably well on your way.

The other half are ghosts.

You have recently discovered an old document of some kind. Most likely a journal, but possibly a map or letters written by a dead family member.

All the portraits in your house have peepholes cut in the eyes.

Important events in your life are always preceded by a storm, or at least a stiff wind.

Your house is very dusty and there are cobwebs everywhere. Basically everything is either dust or a cobweb. There isn’t even anything under the dust anymore, just more dust.

You call your bedroom your “chambers.” There is something at your chamber door.

You are near, or on, the ocean.

Someone is keeping a captain’s log.

A book with a malicious spirit trapped inside was very well hidden somewhere no one should have ever found it, and definitely not ineffectually thrown in a chest or a tomb somewhere, but you found it anyway because you’re so curious and full of hubris.

The Evil Creature’s name is comprised entirely of consonants and punctuation.

There was a traumatic event in your childhood involving beach caves.

You are in love with your cousin.

Some form of Catholic imagery has just been appropriated and misused.

You have a love/hate relationship with a grotesquely malformed creature that you are repulsed by, but also pity.

Something is wrong. Something is terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly wrong.

You’re looking at something man was not meant to see. You can’t even comprehend it. It has parallel lines intersecting each other, and it goes on for infinity but you can see all of it, and other stuff that’s just really impossible. Like, think about M.C. Escher but then also scary and also your eyeballs are bleeding probably.

You have experienced unspeakable things. Everything has been resolved in the bleakest way possible. Your only hope is that you will take this secret to the grave.

[justafriendlymonster]

NaNoWriMo 2019 WIP Intro

Genre: Fantasy

Summary

When a fort on the border of the swamp falls victim to a particularly vicious Lamia attack, every soldier stationed there is killed, and the body of Margot Kenos is never recovered. Convinced that there is more to be learned, her younger brother Oliver decides to set out on a Quest to discover the truth of what happened at the fort. He is joined by the young Prince Julian, fifth in line for what passes as a throne in this world. In order to navigate the swamp, they enlist the help of one of the many swamp children, a girl known as Milkweed, and that of a young Lamia named Vix. Together, the four of them must cross deep into the heart of a poisonous and hostile mire. But if there is some secret to what happened to Margot, the swamp itself seems set on them not figuring it out....

Characters

Margot Kenos: 26. A dutiful soldier. She would never have abandoned her post. Something must have happened to her.

Oliver Kenos: 17. An apprentice archivist. He wasn’t built for fighting, but he’d do anything for his sister. Even brave the deadly swamp.

Prince Julian: 17. Fifth in line for the throne. Now that he and Oliver have finally begun pursuing their relationship in earnest, he certainly won’t let him wander off into the swamp on his own.

Milkweed: 11. A swamp kid. There are countless orphans and unwanted children, abandoned at the edge of the swamp. Some of them survive.

Vix: 14. A Lamia. They and Milkweed are inseparable. It takes a truly desperate person to seek the help of one of these monsters. But Vix doesn’t eat people. Usually.

[justafriendlymonster]

I am a(n):

⚪ Male

⚪ Female

🔘 Writer

Looking for

⚪ Boyfriend

⚪ Girlfriend

🔘 An incredibly specific word that I can’t remember

[justafriendlymonster]

Text: It was a desert forest, where cacti stood one hundred feet tall. A dangerous and beautiful place, it teemed with life. 

[justafriendlymonster]

Text: They called it Double Lake. Some days, if you swam down deep enough, you would come out the other side. 

[justafriendlymonster]

Text: My mother had taped our nice silverware all over the walls of our house. A barrier, she called it. 

[justafriendlymonster]

me beating everybody i play against on video games by mashing buttons & only picking female characters with cute outfits & powers.

[justafriendlymonster]

I’m so ready for Halloween so I drew my cat 🎃

[justafriendlymonster]

.⋆*✧:･☆’ヾ(=ↀᆺↀ=)ﾉ

[justafriendlymonster]

https://haco11.tumblr.com/post/167071294640/in-secret

[justafriendlymonster]

dead meme but I still hope nobody already made this

[justafriendlymonster]

ways to honor Artemis

• go for a walk and appreciate the nature around you

• help animals in need

• clean up litter (or anything else that helps the environment)

• research your local wildlife

• dedicate a piece of jewelry to her and wear it as a devotional act

• protect trans women

• meditate (even if you’re not good at it, just practicing is enough!)

• take time for yourself when you need it

• get more involved in feminism

• take archery lessons

• dancing

• read her myths

• encourage others to be who they want to be, not what society wants them to be

• learn self defense

• eat more healthy food when you can

• stand up for those who need it

• learn the different moon phases

• wear clothes you feel comfortable in

• make a playlist for her and listen to it when you want to feel closer with her

• stay in shape as best you can

• craft something for her; it can be whatever you think she’d like (i find that she just appreciates anything you put effort into!)

• take more leaps of faith

• stay true to yourself

[justafriendlymonster]

It’s so weird to me that people label Fred the ‘Athlete’ of Mystery Inc. He came up with highly extravagant plans, was always the one reading the newspaper, wanted to be a mystery writer, and did acting at school. Fred is the Art Kid.

Shaggy, however, was a track star and top gymnast which is why he and Scooby were always used as bait and runners for Fred’s plans and potentially why he consumed so much food. Shaggy is the Athlete.