#that monster in your closet?

[industrations]

"Watch out, imsiriuslyreading. because one day you will regret this. and when the time is right, you will crawl back and beg for my cattle inheritance."

what will people say when they know your true character? when they learn the true depths of your evil?

You wish you could have my cows. My precious cattle inheritance. never EVER will you get you hands on them Loon Talis

[sirenssleep]

Quicky paint of my newest obsession: monster/eldritch/scary Danny Phantom!! (With some self indulgent shipping thrown in)

Based off of @ectoplasmranch 's design and fanfic:

Freaking LOVE IT. Not a scene in particular, but again, my monsterfucker self-indulgence with Phantom protecting Dash from a ghost or something. ;)

That may explain why I made him probably waaaaay too monstrous, as compared to the fic xD

Phantom by himself under cut C:

[sea-lanterns]

Dehya seems like the type of mom to comfort her child whenever they think there’s a monster in their closet, by opening the closet and beating the shit out of the air.

Like, oh you think there’s a monster in there? No problem! Mama Dehya will protect her kid! And then she’s throwing hands with the air in the closet, pretending to beat up the monster so her kid could sleep peacefully 🥺

[souplovingwerewolf]

One of my favorite "isn't supposed to be funny but ends up being f*cking hilarious" things is whatever is going on with the Life Of Luxury video thumbnails.

Just... Look

Theres so much happening

[justjanusthings]

[mosstrades]

im someone who stuggles not to let his curiosity and drive sometimes (often) cross over into an overwhelming and maladaptive need for answers, for explanation, for certainty. someone who, historically, sees making art as a primarily intellectual exercise. this is not inherently a bad thing, we all have our temperaments and this kind of attention can be a strength. but, you know that artist who makes a painting, and then only wants to show it while explaining it to you? thats me, sometimes, more often than i like. every story i used to write had another hundred page document behind it, explicating every single choice -- often i would simply read that, instead of ever actually write the story itself. the explanation precedes everything. the answers alone are the experience.

david lynch's work and philosphy has been and is a vital foothold in my efforts to learn to love the questions as our breath. learn to appreciate intuition and dreams, trust them instead of fear them. learn to see that the world has so much confusing, uncertain, strange beauty, that can be terrifying but turns sublime when you cease rejecting it from fear. when you embrace the unknown and dont try to immediately & anxiously explicate it all away, a whole new world opens up to you. that you need the darkness in order to dream, and you need dreams in order to live fully immersed in what the world has to offer. a foothold in learning to be okay with abstraction, with imperfect subjectivity, with uncertainty. to know it is not anthitetical to truth and meaning. know that to skillfully make ideas come alive into a work *is* to rationally pin them down, but that you cannot lose sight of the intuition they were born as.

his artistic intuition reminds me of what i need to have -- the trust and humility for experiencing the inexplicable and understanding that to be enough. a devotion to ideas and their realisation. a balancing force, for my endless inquiry -- to not forget to live the question in my the search for an answer. to allow some thing to go without clear or universal explanation, allow for some things to remain unresolved, allow for others to have that be their resolution. it's why his work equal parts captivates me and disturbs me -- i am very bad at this. but feel in my heart a need to get better at it. to be a better artist, a better thinker, a better searcher, a better person. you need to feel it, intuitively, quiet your endless noisy need for an answer and simply let it fill you up, let it resonate intuitively, and find in that how life makes sense to you and you alone. mediation, mindfulness, humility to sit with abstraction without trying to pin it down. more and more i try to understand this. some things don't need to make perfect sense. some things dont need answers, or their answers are not the point. some things dont need anything but to be experienced as they enter you -- like dreams do. that can lead you to the answer, and that can also be enough in itself. that can be just an intrinsic value in being alive to experience it. and so often, it is all in conversation with the search for joy. it's why he feels so captivating, so unique, so tremendously alive. why people use the word "visionary" when talking about him. because he knew how to use his medium in all the potential he could see, so that it let you live in the strangeness and questions. he understood them as sublime, he understood them as enough, he understood them as a joy. he understood them as beautiful. and his memory will remind me to do the same; always to seek the space to dream.

[whitefangz]

periodically i remember my weird therapist and how she brought her horse sized dog to one of our meetings and he tried to bite me unprompted like i didnt even do anything i Walked up and he lunged at me. that was so funny but at the time i was really mad and i honestly almost left

[steviebeans]

writing horror

okay no but really.

I love horror. I have loved horror for awhile, even though I am so often afraid of things (the first time I saw The Conjuring, I was eighteen and my friend and I stayed on the phone together for our drives home; when I saw Chucky at ten I looked behind my back walking home at night with my family for months; when I go to Halloween Horror Nights I say 'no thank you' to certain actors and my friends and I hold each other's backpack straps or jackets as we go through a maze).

But I love horror because it scares me. It's always raw and weird and wonky. It explores fear, but it's always resolved. Even if it sets up for a sequel (SMILE, or Scream or Halloween), it's resolved for now. The monster in the closet retreats. The evil entity is weakened or destroyed. It may come back, but it will be defeated again.

The horrible thing is easy to locate, maybe not easily defeated, but it's always fallible.

And in a world where nothing is that black and white, where it feels like you're always up against and invisible, infallible enemy, I love going into horror and watching the evil thing fall. Or writing the evil thing fall.

Every time.

No matter how terrifying the lead up, the evil thing always falls.

[bananagram0]

Artfight for @nohaytroblemo, who's more active on Twitter and such. Betty's a cryptid, and uh, I um, well you see. Might be romanticizing the Other a bit.

https://artfight.net/attack/8388868.monsters-are-real-or-so-ive-come-to-believe

[anawkwardlady]

I just completely lashed out in anger lol

[creaturesfromelsewhere]

New Tales of Florida Gothic - Chapter 5

“Unfathomable to mere mortals is the lore of fiends.” — Nathaniel Hawthorne

Your early morning tour of the 'haunted' victorian mansion in Brooksville, Florida has been an absolute delight. Your guide, a young woman in period costume playing the part of a person from the late 1890's so convincingly, you half way believed her. As you leave, you pass another young woman who apoligizes for being so late and she'll begin your tour immediately. You point out that her colleague already took you on the tour to which she replies that she's the only one working that day. You look back at the house as ice runs down your spine.

You've now traveled 2,000 miles in a desperate attempt to escape your spectral torment, but it still isn't far enough. With the coming of twilight, you can still see the beam from the haunted lighthouse in Florida flashing across the horizon, searing itself into the depths of your eyes. Exhausted, you stumble back into your car and continue driving away.

As the storm surge from the hurricane fills your lungs, you are suddenly aware of all your past lives as your current one slips away. You are horrified to realize you have always died in hurricanes: in New Orleans, in Miami, in Galveston, in places so old they did not yet have names. And then you understand, no matter how many lives you live, you always will die in hurricanes.

As you drag the body into the back yard to bury it, you laugh as you see a sink hole has conviently formed there. With mirthless laughter, you roll the corpse into the sink and reach for your shovel. You freeze as the ground slowly closes of its accord until the hole is completely gone. Your shovel drops, forgotten, from your hand as you shuffle back into your house. The Florida soil demands to be feed.

As you lie sleeplessly in bed, your closet door slowly opens with a forboding creak. As you get out of bed and walk towards the closet door, you wonder for a moment what monster you'll become in someone else's closet. But the thought quickly passes as the hunger begins.

While renevating your bedroom, you discover an old diary hidden in the wall. As you read it, you learn it belonged to a young woman from the late 1890's, tormented by the gift of precognition - the ability to see the future. She writes of her anguish at seeing her family die despite all her attempts to prevent them from meeting the ends she had forseen. Gruesome sketches appear on some of the pages, showing the myriad ways her family and friends met their untimely fates. Then your blood runs cold as the young woman reveals that she can see a person in the distant future reading her journal, and that person is completely unaware that they too, are about to meet their end. As you turn the page, you see a sketch of youself, sitting at the same desk, reading the same journal, but the drawing reveals a hulking shadow from behind is falling across you. You turn to...

creaturesfromelsewhere 9-9-2023

[aur-el-ias]

@laulo821

[iregulargremlin]

Since its pride month The monster hiding in my closet at night came out

I'm so happy for them and glad they felt they could reveal this part of them self to me

but I wish they wouldn't make so many uncolicited foot massages during the night from beneath my bed

[slauterhause]

No context posting (I lied there's partly context in the tags)

[sweetlittlestarbursts]

reading Frankenstein for the first time...

so I just started reading Frankenstein a few days ago and all's going pretty well until "unfeeling, heartless creator! you had endowed me with perceptions and passions, and then cast me abroad, an object for the scorn and horror of mankind" happened. Reading this as a closeted transmasc hit me like a fucking train, and now all I want to do all day is cry.

Honestly I just sympathize with Frankensteins monster so much. He doesn't know who he is yet, or his purpose in the world, all he knows is that he wants love and acceptance, but instead, again and again, he is beaten and cursed as a monster, a demon, and and wretch, thrown from homes and condemned to a life of misery and loneliness, and all for the way he appears on the outside. Even back then humankind was so fucked up. It makes me sick to think about the way "weird" people are treated in this day and age just for what they identify as, or what they look like, or what they believe in. Like, anyone can be a good person, you don't need to be rich white straight christian conservative etc to be a good fucking person.

We are all Frankenstein's monster. That doesn't make us any less beautiful. Just be yourself, and you'll be beautiful in the eyes of all who truly see.

"Be yourself; everybody else is already taken." - Oscar Wilde

[lemondropletters]

y’all DO NOT trick LD Curtain into playing a horror video game because he WILL get his revenge by trapping you into a VR headset of said horror game while you’re sleeping…