Just Some Phil

@justsomephil.bsky.social

96 Followers 115 Following

He/him, new to this, here for the writing community: horror, fantasy, fairy tales, etc. Cheers on queer/indie authors while working on his WIP behind the scenes. No AI.

Some tree trunks.
“I mean – walking away from what happened to you. I still have a hard time with – you know. You’ve been through so much and look at you now. How can you act so casual?” “I don’t think about it and I don’t remember most of it.” “Repressing, then?” “Yeah, that. People say it’s bad, but they’re just jealous. Another trick is to feel already dead inside, so you don’t notice much of a difference.”
Quote: The silence now could have been cut with a knife – coincidentally enough, several had appeared during their speech – but it was broken by a giggle. “I don’t understand how you don’t have a dozen feet in the grave,” said Isidore, still grinning. “Oh, that’s easy,” answered Lake sourly. “They’re all in my mouth.”
The crudest concept of a cover imaginable. A photo of two club sandwiches. Title in an awful, awful font: The Love Triangles. Tagline: Be careful...they're spicy.
The four main characters of Stargate SG1.
“Are you okay?” “Oh, I’m always okay. Or I’m never okay. Pick one. Either way, it doesn’t change much.”
Frederick Frankenstein hugging his creature.
Image: two representations of a small young-looking man with white curly hair. On the left he looks pleading and innocent, on the right his eyes are red and he's showing his fangs/teeth. Legend: He was the worse. Then he got bored. Text NAME: Isidore des Hêtres du Lac (he/him) HERO NAME: Vampire Hero (he didn’t even try) SPECIES: Elf (Subspecies: Vampire) AGE: Around 300 years old POWERS: • Looney Tunesque invulnerability • weak hypnosis NOTES: • 🌟worst person in the world🌟 • good at torture and nothing else • forced to work for a superhero agency • you see the problem.
A stranger danger poster. Text: STRANGER DANGER Most victims are helpless worms in your mighty claws 😄 This one is not! AVOID HIM: A crude stick figure with indications: white hair, white shirt, no soul. • he can have huge teeth or not • he can have huge claws or not • he can be polite or make mean comments about your torture methods DO NOT APPROACH even if: • he’s small • he seems helpless • he cries/begs • lets himself kidnapped A SAFE victim will: • bleed/die/ • can be maimed • stay down • stay tied easily 👍
Belladonna berry, a pretty little black thing that might kill you.
Oh wow this is a written scene! [TK: this is the context, the elements, the themes, the foreshadowing for Another Scene, the consequences for the story/characters/action.] Oh boy, a second scene! [TK: this is the context, the elements, the themes, the foreshadowing for Another Scene, the consequences for the story/characters/action. I’ll fill the blanks later.]
Stan Pines from Gravity Falls, con artist.
toy story meme
The writer of this article is the owner of one of the most remarkable black cats in the world — and this saying much; for it will be remembered that black cats are all of them witches. The one in question has not a white hair about her, and is of a demure and sanctified demeanor. That portion of the kitchen which she most frequents is accessible only by a door, which closes with what is termed a thumb-latch; these latches are rude in construction, and some force and dexterity are always requisite to force them down. But puss is in the daily habit of opening the door, which she accomplished in the following way. She first springs from the ground to the guard of the latch (which resembles the guard over a gun-trigger,) and through this she thrusts her left arm to hold on with. She now, with her right hand, presses the thumb-latch until it yields, and here several attempts are frequently requisite. Having forced it down, however, she seems to be aware that her task is but half accomplished, since, if the door is not pushed open before she lets go, the latch will again fall into its socket. She, therefore, screws her body round so as to bring her hind feet immediately beneath the latch, while she leaps with all her strength from the door — the impetus of the spring forcing it open, and her hind feet sustaining the latch until this impetus is fairly given. We have witnessed this singular feat a hundred times at least, and never without being impressed with the truth of the remark with which we commenced this article — that the boundary between instinct and reason is of a very shadowy nature. The black cat, in doing what she did, must have made use of all the perceptive and reflective faculties which we are in the habit of supposing the prescriptive qualities of reason alone.