So here’s the thing: I’m back in the classroom, wrangling bright young minds and unleashing dark literary truths (a.k.a. teaching full-time again). Which means . . . our little Monster Maker party is moving to twice a month for the academic year.
But don’t pout, sweet batlings. 🦇 That just means you’ll have more time to actually do the deliciously deranged writing prompts in between newsletters. (Think of it as marinating your monsters until they’re extra juicy.)
Speaking of monsters . . . I accidentally adopted one.
Yep. Foster fail.
Enter Tater Tot, my pug-mix gremlin with googly eyes, a screechy bark like a tiny demon, and the ability to bend me to her will with sheer cuteness. She’s my very own adorable terror. 🐶
And she got me thinking: what happens when monsters aren’t horrifying at all . . . but adorable? Welcome to the world of cute monsters—the ones that flip the hierarchy of fear and make us want to snuggle the very things that should be sending us screaming. 🧙🏽
Tater Tot
When Monsters Get Cute 👹➡️🧸
💡 Here’s the trick: cute monsters still use the same tools as scary ones—exaggeration, distortion, grotesque features—but instead of pushing us into fear or disgust, they tug us into affection. Their big eyes, clumsy bodies, or childlike voices soften the terror. They’re still other, but they’re the kind of other we want to wrap in a blanket and feed snacks to.
Think of: ✨ Ludo in Labyrinth — a hulking beast with horns and fur, yet all “frightening” proportions are flipped into puppy-dog gentleness. ✨ Baby Godzilla in the 1960s kaiju films — still a reptilian giant, but with rounder features, cartoonish eyes, and an energy closer to an overeager toddler than a feral city-wrecker. ✨✨ Baby Groot in Guardians of the Galaxy— a tiny tree-being with all the chaos of adolescence distilled into twigs and leaves; wobbly limbs, oversized eyes, and endless curiosity turn what could be alien menace into irresistible toddler charm.
✨ The Minions in Despicable Me — essentially pint-sized chaos engines in denim overalls; their wild energy, flailing limbs, and incomprehensible chatter transform potentially terrifying mayhem into gleeful, slapstick mischief.
Bakhtin would call this carnivalesque grotesque realism—using exaggeration not to terrify but to mock and invert the usual power structure. Instead of trembling before the monster, we coo at it. Instead of letting it dominate us, we carry it around in a Baby Björn. Fear = flipped. Hierarchy = toppled.
Little Godzilla
When Adorable Turns Ax-Murderer: The Monster Flip
Let us never forget the eternal warning of Gremlins (1984).
Gizmo, the wide-eyed Mogwai, is the poster child for “so cute it hurts.” He’s small, fuzzy, sings little cooing songs, and basically begs for merch sales.
But here’s the kicker: even that cuteness is othered. Gizmo is wrapped in the racist “mysterious Asian shop” trope—exoticized, coded as different, and treated as both magical and dangerous.
And once you break the “rules”? Boom. That cuteness mutates into something lethal. Feed him after midnight, get him wet, and suddenly those big eyes and fluffy ears become razor teeth and reptilian claws.
That’s the genius of Gremlins: it shows how razor-thin the line is between the cute and the monstrous. Gizmo’s cuteness is a disguise—a way to lower your guard so the horror hits harder when it finally breaks through.
So yes, cute monsters flip the hierarchy of fear . . . but they also remind us how unstable that hierarchy really is. Beneath the giggles and “awwws” lurks something feral, waiting for the right moment to claw its way out.
Gizmo and Spike from Gremlins
🖊️Writing Exercise: When Cute Goes Creepy ✍️
Pick a monster of your own—or borrow from the classics. Now:
1. **Make them irresistibly cute.** Big eyes. Tiny voice. Fuzzy ears. Childlike clumsiness. Whatever makes you go *awww*.
2. **Hide the monster underneath.** What rule, weakness, or moment reveals their true terror? (Think Gizmo after midnight.)
3. **Flip the script.** How does the cuteness disguise their danger—and how does it make the eventual horror even sharper when it breaks through?
Write a scene with your cute monster--maybe the transformation scene where they go from totes adorbs to death in a scaly leather suit.
Bonus points if your “adorable” monster is hiding something absolutely abject. Extra bonus if you can make your reader laugh *and* recoil in the same paragraph.
Darth Tater
🕷️Over to You 💌
What’s the cutest monster you can dream up—and what’s the horrifying truth it’s hiding?
Think: teddy bear with a taste for blood, or a plushie that whispers insults when no one else is listening.
Tag me @iliketododrawrings or hit reply with your cuddliest-creepiest creation. I want to squeal and shudder at the same time.
Until the next fluffy lil bunny leaps for your throat, Heidi 🖤 Monster Mentor | Adoptive Parent of Tiny Chaos | Narrative Necromancer
