#something monstrous and distinctly inhuman

[dandelionjack]

i haven’t seen the northman (i know i know shameful considering my norse shit but i feel like i’d become obsessed so i keep putting it off) but it’s interesting how in all 3 eggers films that i have seen, the finale is some form of transcendental horror — the protagonist leaving their humanity behind in favour of a greater, unfathomable power from the void, whether that be the devil in the shape of a goat, god in the shape of a lighthouse beacon, or death in the shape of an undead lord. they embrace the monstrousness, the Outside, the uncanny, past the point of no return, into the darkness. i wonder what draws eggers to it

[licncourt]

Ohhhh can we get into it? That post about Louis San Fran bender. Going after people who look like lestat. Maybe Louis doesn’t sleep with all of them, maybe a few but he feeds on the rest and drains them. Lestat realizing he’s made his own little magnus in a way…

San Francisco era Louis being an utter and total freak is something that is so important to me, I really cannot stop talking about it. The psychosexual aspect of the gay serial killer phenomenon as it relates to Louis is something I've discussed a lot (on here and in my fic about that) because I think it explains so much about how he looks at sex and desire. Sex and violence can't really be separated in his head (Catholic freak), especially when he's at a serious low point, so when he engages with them they are often enacted together.

When he's alone in San Francisco, he seems to be in a weird place mentally where he's in a state of obvious apathy, but also more prone to gratuitous violence. I think it does make sense, even though it seems contradictory. Vampirism is inherently violent, so those outbursts are coming from a lack of will to restrain his nature rather than real passion and the release of built up pressure the way they did before. It's exceptionally chilling and predatory. There's something very human about losing control, but the way Louis seems to approach killing in the pre-TVL era is distinctly monstrous and inhuman.

I think it's in QotD that we find out Louis initially chose Daniel as a potential victim because of his resemblance to Lestat, so this is canonically where his mind is at the time of the interview. It also shows that he was probably cognizant of what was going on even at the time and it doesn't even seem like it bothered him that much that he was doing it. That's what makes San Francisco Louis so scary imo, just that small acknowledgment shows us that his violence is honing in on something and the obsession is either setting in or already there.

The implication in the book (AND the original short story) that the place Louis met Daniel was a gay bar adds a layer to it as well in a very human and sexual sense. Not only did he choose a Lestat lookalike, but it seems like he chose to hunt in a (homo)sexually charged environment on purpose. His whole vibe reminds me of an addict who's been using for so long that there's no dopamine rush anymore and is getting more extreme in chasing a very particular high. The allegory of addiction is always very strong in Louis, but the way it presents during this period is kind of a continuation of that narrative.

I think if Lestat hadn't woken up, Louis could have easily devolved into what Magnus became. He has that incredibly addictive personality and he's prone to obsession and pathological rumination anyway. By 1973, we can see how detached he was from humanity already. Imagine him in 300 or 500 years, after so much death and isolation, nothing in there except hunger and memories that he's clung to for so long that they're horrifically distorted, maybe unrecognizable except for blue eyes and blonde hair.

@nasnyys is the beautiful mind behind the Lestat POV aspect of this so I can't speak on that a ton, but I love it SO much. A huge part of Lestat's story is how he can't seem to break out of existing cycles and he's often the catalyst for that continuation against his will. It seems to disturb him the most when he sees those cycles repeating in Louis (to the point where I would say he imagines them at times), so I think this would absolutely not be lost on him forever, if it is initially. Maybe he would perceive it as Magnus "tainting" him to the point where whatever Lestat creates has some essence of his maker/abuser, like it's intrinsically a part of him somehow. It's very sad, I would love to think on it more and come back with something better to say!

[clown-cult]

The long-awaited “Omega Red && Hair” essay.

So anyone who’s seen Omega Red knows what he looks like, right? He has a pretty distinctive design. The tentacles, the red suit, the armour, the omega symbolism and, of course, the seemingly endless long blonde 80’s ponytail.

While Arkady’s design is a product of the time he was created in the early 90’s, to be sure, and he was designed to stand out and be eye-catching, the design has only changed a few times over the years and never permanently. Even when the suit changes, the one consistent is Arkady’s hair. Always a shade of blonde that varies from gold to platinum, and always long. Sometimes coming to the middle of his back, other times past his hips.

This trait, along with the red body suit, the steel tentacles and chalk-white skin, is Arkady’s most consistent, and also arguably the one he’s in the most control over.

He can and has changed his uniform, but has stuck to the same thing for years. The tentacles have changed design sometimes, but are also something that are a part of him now. Arkady’s red eyes and white skin are a part of his albinism.

One would think that he would have changed his hair, cut it short. A lot of characters have done so over the years. After the years of 80’s and 90’s in comics, it stopped being in fashion.

The change in fashion standards is one reason this design switch happened for characters, of course, but an element of toxic masculinity in the 2000s was also at play. Characters like Gambit, Doc Samson and Thor as just a few examples cut their hair off completely to adhere to heightened standards of desired masculinity as female characters outfits became tighter and more ridiculous because of the same standards.

Arkady consistently looks the same however; big, frightening, unstable, decidedly inhuman. He isn’t supposed to look appealing or attractive, he’s supposed to be unsettling. Monstrous. His hair is a large part that; a key factor alongside his skin colour, height and red eyes in the of the “otherness” of his appearance.

He’s not the only character who is supposed to look this way of course, but no one receives this treatment quite like Arkady. He’s a caricature of the Red Scare, of Slavic Panic. Every aspect of him is heightened and exaggerated to act as a stereotype.

Arkady has gone through a lengthy and slow transition from “bland, generic villain of Wolverine” since his resurrection in 2010, and a series of retcons has changed his origins and background to make him less of a problematic stereotype and more of a real, developed person.

Even so, Arkady’s designs is remained wholly unchanged. We’ve seen a few variations over the years. The Luke Cage Digital Original (2018), Weapon X (2017), X-Force (2019), and most recently the From The Ashes Infinity Comic.

The one consistent is, as always, that hair. The length changes, but it’s always very long. The exact hue changes, but it’s always distinctly blonde. For whatever reason, this a key aspect of Arkady’s design that never changes.

Now, it’s easy enough to say that the reason Arkady’s overall design has seen so few changes is because one, it’s recognisable, and two, why put an effort into giving any change in design to a not particularly popular character? Everyone who knows of Arkady knows that while he’s certainly a fan favourite, Marvel themselves don’t treat him as though he is.

So, Arkady’s design remains unchanged from an editorial and audience viewpoint. As I’ve established, we can quickly pinpoint why; it’s easier and and more recognisable.

Now, what about an in-universe perspective? What about Arkady himself?

Again, as the writers and artists lay it out, Arkady’s hair is one of the key aspects about his appearance that adds to the ‘otherness’ and unease around him. It’s part of what adds to his overall appearance as an unstable, out of control monster from a bygone period in history. Unkempt, out of date, out of control.

And Arkady himself? In the rare insights we’re able to get any insight into him, be it through his conversations with others or the occasional inner monologue, he’s shown to be very self aware. Arkady knows exactly who he is and what he is, and he’s never hid it. Despite Logan in particular often insisting that Arkady can’t be trusted, he’s never once lied, at least not consciously.

Arkady is aware of how he’s perceived and how wrongly people often view him. He’s both aware there’s nothing he can do about yet unable to completely repress his frustration. He’s aware of what’s inside and outside of his control. How people treat him and view him isn’t. His own body and the way he presents himself are within his control.

From what I’ve found out after talking to some east European family members (I’m part Croatian) and scouring the Internet, long hair is still not viewed as the norm in Russia. It’s associated with, to name a couple of things, a lack of masculinity or being part of a counterculture. Variations on this sentiment are still prevalent in most parts of the western world too.

Arkady is aware, as I’ve pointed out, of the world around him and of how it views him. He’s undoubtably aware that this is how he would be seen. He’s aware of what the superhero community think of him and what his fellow mutants and Russians whisper about him.

Maybe he doesn’t change he suit often, even though he’s not attached to it, nor his position as Omega Red, because it’s familiar to him. Because he’s had to accept this is what he is. He has no other place in the world, no other niche to fit into other than that of Omega Red.

His hair though…even when Arkady does change his suit, even when he joins a different team, even when he goes undercover and wears civilian clothing…he’s never cut his hair off. Maybe he’ll take it out of the ponytail, but he’s cut it.

The three episode mini-arc of “From The Ashes” has shown Arkady regenerate from a skeleton. When he does this, even while still regenerating layers of skin over his muscles, his hair grows back in seconds and it grows back long. Maybe theres’s some part of his subconscious that can affect his regeneration. Maybe his hair always regenerates back to being long again because that’s what he wants. This is the way he wants to present himself.

Maybe this is the one part of himself that Arkady likes, that he puts effort into. He consistently takes care of it. He gets irrationally angry when it’s pulled or messed with without his consent.

And maybe this is another way that Arkady can exercise some level of freedom. He’s been controlled his whole life; born into an oppressive government regime, forced to become a super weapon with toxic blood, bent to the will of his mutation that actively is killing him since day one. His entire life, Arkady has only had a very limited amount of control over his own circumstances. It’s only recent years that he’s been allowed even a small lease over his own life and had any autonomy.

Maybe growing his hair as long as possible has always been his small way of exercising a little freedom, a little rebellion. Rebellion against how his country expects him to look and how most of the superhero’s he’s had to face present themselves.

He can be pumped full of toxic metal, left at the mercy of his mutation, handed back over to the country who turned him into a living weapon, rejected when convenient by said country and his own family. He can be passed around for containment and experimentation between governments. He can be used, cast off, chased, exploited, hunted, harmed and even murdered.

But when he returns, when he comes back to life, when he regenerates himself…his hair always returns back to the way it’s always been. Possibly at his own will. He will never conform fully, and he can never be completely controlled.

The lines between societal norms, fashion trends, sexuality and traditional gender roles are blurred. One of Arkady Rossovich’s most recognisable traits is also strong symbolism, and I personally like to believe it’s intentional.

[broodsys]

monsters - their origins and roots in human psyche

warning: this post will contain discussion of racism, ableism, and fatphobia, not because i think any of these are "monstrous," but because they have been used as signifiers for monstrosity and this is an analysis of what human beings have/do define as "monsters" and why

some rough archetypal categories, which can of course overlap to varying degrees, but separated out here and defined below for ease:

the maligned

the mistreated

the othered

the unknown

the controlled

violence & fear

i don't think people are intentionally using these or any similar categories, so when i draw distinctions between them, they are distinctions within this conversation only. i'm just trying to analyze as many different manifestations of monsters/the monstrous as i can

the maligned

misunderstood, reviled, loathed, usually without cause. these are the monsters who look scary, "ugly", "disfigured", etc.

sometimes the maligned is presented as the maligned. and sometimes it is not, it is presented as the literally monstrous, but the way people may relate to it is as the maligned

sometimes it is a truly different, non-human entity. but sometimes - often, even - they are either human or non-human, but with distinctly human characteristics, many of which tie in with various forms of bigotry

disability, fatness, and features of PoC have all been used as signifiers that someone/something is monstrous, evil, etc. they have been used as a visual shorthand to imply a morality. also, creating an "ugly" being is often enough to have it labeled a monster

these narratives may be a deliberate analysis of these themes; they may be self-expressions from people with lived experience; or they may be - and i would say, most often are - the results of internalized and unexamined bigotry

the mistreated

these are the "monsters" who are abused, ostracized, exterminated needlessly. they are not doing any harm, or the only harm they do is in self-defense, but they are victims nonetheless, often the result of fear, hatred, or disgust

insects fall into this category with ease. kafka's metamorphosis. ender's game. also, frankly, real insects, who are killed for no more purpose than making the people who happen to witness them uncomfortable*

*don't argue with me about this. yes, i know about insects carrying disease. yes, i know about the risks they pose to human health. yes, i care about that. no, i am not talking about those instances

narratives can either suggest that these beings deserve this treatment, or that it is unfair. the mistreated can be a group or an individual. it can be defenseless or capable but still hunted

at the far end, something that, say, needs to eat humans in order to stay alive could be considered the edge of the mistreated. it is simply trying to pursue the continuation of its own life, as are we. but i think that would likely fall into other categories for the sake of this essay

the othered

sidelined, ostracized, ignored. you look away from these beings. they aren't really there. and if you see them, well, no you didn't/who cares

there is no one prime example that stands out to me - although some versions of ghosts may fall into this category - so what i will do here is instead point out that many people, from many and varied backgrounds and demographics, will have experienced a sense of othering which they may choose to explore through a monster

i know many neurodivergent and queer people who relate to monsters, because there was a time in which they (and i) felt othered, felt at the edges, felt inhuman. and, thus, monstrous

there are plenty of other groups who i can think of who would likely fit into this category... but i'm not going to speak for them, only to say that it is far from exclusive to queer and neurodivergent ppl

the unknown

this is the completely foreign, unknown, unknowable. the genuinely, literally alien. or the divine. the mysterious. the things so different you cannot actually process what you are seeing/perceiving. the sense of wrongness that suffuses everything

primordial forces. the entirety of the universe. black holes. like... the unknown as a (monster/monstrous force/monstrous entity) is vast

it can also include things that are Wrong versions of themselves. sometimes this is shown through clones or other versions of copies, through changelings (which has a history connected to neurodivergent children being perceived as wrong/unnatural children), etc.

mazes. caves. underwater. space. heaven or hell. it's just about how something is presented

the controlled

beings whose sole value is in what they are made to do, where any behavior outside of that narrow range is seen as deviant and punished, and their lives are often more or less forfeit if they do not perform as desired

robots are probably the most obvious example of this. but also things like test tube people (usually but not always children), deliberate mutations/forced changes in order to perform a function, etc.

the narratives around this, as is the case with all these, can vary wildly. but some may show the controlled as something that deserves or requires this control. or they may pay it no attention at all, simply allowing the assumption that its control is right to permeate the narrative. or the narrative may be about the controlled - it may be an incredibly sympathetic view of them

but this can tie into desires for control, desires for safe situations where nothing can react outside of specified parameters, or an analysis of what it is to be controlled, to be subject to another's desires, whims, or conditions. it can examine interpersonal dynamics as a transactional affair, where "right behavior" gets rewarded - with affection, with tolerance, with love, or perhaps just with the absence of punishment - and "wrong behavior" is demonized and punished, sometimes with death/destruction/a "reboot"

violence & fear

the entire concept of violence, from self-defense to righteous punishment to feral brutality, and it can come from either side, the monster or their victim(s)/"victim(s)". and the entire concept of fear. from the things that go bump in the night to the sense of being watched to seeing bright eyes in the gloom staring unwaveringly at you. whether they are violent or not, predatory or not, etc. changes with each narrative, but they are symbols of fear

this is what i think most people imagine when they think of monsters. vampires, werewolves, zombies, things like the kaiju in pacific rim, or godzilla, monsters who are often simply described as monsters

but it can also be a little more esoteric. contagion and plague, perhaps represented through a carrier, a "monstrous" typhoid mary figure. or a strong human emotion made tangible, physical, dangerous; grief, anger, betrayal, etc. as a physical force that haunts you, or haunts a place, or has leached into the area and twists it (think silent hill)

[albatris]

Wait wait I'm new here (this blog), what's rentalcar?

hi!! :D

rentalcar is my current writing project! it's a campy queer horror trilogy about a freshly-turned body-horror vampire and an equally monstrous human bastard on their quest to murder the giant vampire hivemind god known as "the Garble" :3c

book one is called "A Rental Car Takes a Left Down Rake Street and Disappears" and book two is called "There Is Nothing to See in Lot 17, Foxtrail Lane". book three has no name yet ahaha

a little description is as follows:

schizotypal hermit Nat Finch leaves work one afternoon, and the next thing he knows he's waking up on the side of the road in his rental car, covered in mud with no memory of the last nine days. all attempts to return to regular life are quickly thwarted - whatever happened during his blackout has left him morphing into something distinctly inhuman. when his new condition reaches a bloody, ravenous breaking point, a human stranger steps in: Quinn Cooper, powerful and dazzling manipulator with a cruel streak, here to mitigate the damage and offer Nat safety under their wing... as long as Nat does exactly what he's told and doesn't ask questions

the story in book one is mostly Nat trying to solve his little mystery (What Happened During His Blackout And Why He Got Vampired) while slowly uncovering the grim secrets Quinn is hiding. book one mostly lays the groundwork and foreshadowing for my "vampirism as a condition is just one giant hivemind" worldbuilding, while books two and three rip it open and explore it properly :3

other MCs include Alexis Anders, rigidly moral vampire lawyer having ten existential crises at once, Yvonne Tozier, cheery video game fanatic full of barely-contained simmering fury (she works customer service, you get it), and Zeke Cunningham-Warwick-Lâm, romance novelist by day and vampire hunter by night, who desperately needs to stop burning herself out every other week and practice some self-care

and that's about it!

[butchzilla2000]

Final Seminar Project for ENG-L440: Illness Narrative

Naomi Estes, Fall 2024, Indiana University Indianapolis

"Flowers in Ashinoko"

A Self-Reflective Analysis of Godzilla vs. Biollante as a Mirror for the Transgender & Intersexual "Monstrous" Self

“Monsters are tragic beings; they are born too tall, too strong, too heavy. They are not evil by choice. That is their tragedy.”

― Ishiro Honda, director of the original 1954 Godzilla

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Section I: Introduction to the Monstrous Self

What does it mean to be a monster?

Is my body truly so strange to warrant such an image – of myself as a hulking beast, breathing fire from dripping jaws, a featureless glare quaking with rage?

Is my human form so different from others that I was to be relegated to such a moniker – a fleshy, bipedal monster, walking hand-in-hand among the normal man?

Nowadays I still consider myself something of a monster – but it has become something to be proud of, not something to fear, as I did in my youth. So often I used to look at my form as the derogatory meaning of ‘monster’, rather than my newfound, more positive interpretation of being 'monstrous', my new feeling on monstrosity taking after the definition of the self-diagnosed "monstrous selfhood" that Susan Stryker discussed in her essay, “My Words to Victor Frankenstein Above the Village of Chamonix–Performing Transgender Rage,” which she dictates as her body becoming a 'monstrous' conduit for communicating her emotions to the world that oppresses her:

“I am too often perceived as less than fully human due to the means of my embodiment; like the monster’s as well, my exclusion from human community fuels a deep and abiding rage in me that I, like the monster, direct against the conditions in which I must struggle to exist,” (Stryker, 239).

 Like Stryker’s evolutionary experience as a trans woman, my own transsexual and intersexual body slowly grew into a piece of human artistry; my body is now a conduit for my passionate rage towards the society that others me, a connection that ties myself all the more intimately to my trans brothers and sisters; a something strange and wonderous that I can stare at in the mirror and find fascinating, beautiful, and surprisingly human, even in its monstrous difference from the conventional; but this was not always the case for me, as it is for most of my transsexual siblings. With age and time came wisdom and pride, and I had to learn it through the lessons of my heroes – the monsters who taught me to have pride in being a monster.

When I was young, my hermaphroditic body cast shadows over my ability to perceive myself as a properly “normal” human being; even before I knew what exactly I was – intersex and transgender – I distinctly felt like a deviant, unable to present my bodily form before the cursory gazes of my peers. I always felt nonnormative, someone grotesque and unable to be loved; in my earliest school memories, I had always kept my head down and my half-lidded eyes forever investigating the intricacies of the concrete tiled floors of Brentwood Elementary, rather than searching the souls of my peers through the meeting of our quivering eyes.

I feared so much the idea that I was being constantly perceived by the world around me, because I so perpetually perceived myself as a monster – something inhuman, something unable to “pass” as a human, something undeserving of the opportunity to be a human. When I was a boy, I was forever bullied and othered for the petite shape and general androgyny of my lanky frame, for the girlish way I sat in an aged wooden desk chair, for the neurotic fear I showed when faced with sports and hypermasculine activity, and for the love I had for the nerdiest of passions - cars, trains, motorcycles, and, above all, monsters.

When children are faced with the notion that they are ‘different’ and unable to mingle with their peers, they so often turn to sources of companionship from fictional beings, the figures of the media they consume, the characters who turn into sources of friendship, symbols of humanity, things that can remind them that they are, in fact, worth existing, despite all of their ‘flaws.’ In learning to understand that they are different, so many intersexual and transgender individuals acted as I did by searching for the perfect reflection of themselves – the “monstrous something” that could help them figure out who they are, and, by extension, act as a conduit for their own emotions and their identity – additionally, a means to have a true friend.

As Carina Pasquesi describes in “Of Monsters, Creatures, and Other Queer Becomings,” the burgeoning existence for queer individuals – especially one in their foundling years, desperate to find meaning in themselves – can be described by a need to “[find] themselves as fierce creatures, something more powerful than just human, as a way to be brave, to give ourselves a necessary fiction of power in the face of negativity,” (Pasquesi, 120).

Essentially, it is a need to find validity and structure in this newfound "monstrous" identity that the queer youth has found for themselves; a need to discover something to ground them, to fulfil their desire to feel welcomed and absolutely resolute in the construction of this “new self” they’ve discovered, despite its nonnormative and unconventional construction that defies the very constitution of the heteronormative hegemony that oppresses us.

 For many queer children who struggled as I did, it could have been any number of fictional mirrors of strangeness or monstrousness that they turned to in order to find this “meaning”; for some,  it may have been the X-Men they turned to – unique, diverse in their abilities and constitutions, always struggling against a great foe; for others, it could have been the world of Star Wars, where anything and everything was possible in the endless and imaginative lands of a galaxy far, far away.

For myself, I sought out the one thing that reflected how I felt towards the world; a creature so misunderstood, so emphasized in his otherworldly construction, so unbelievable in form and power, so unconventional in his mere existence that he made me feel that it was okay to be different; that it was truly okay to be a monster.

As such, my greatest hero was, and always will be, the one and only...

King of the Monsters,

Godzilla!

The Heisei incarnation of Godzilla roars at the Japanese military, from 1991's Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah.

Section II: The Rose of Transness in Godzilla vs. Biollante

When I first encountered Godzilla as a very young child, I was completely awe-struck. I remember my papa showing me the tattered cover art of Godzilla battling a robotic monster on a chipped plastic VHS tape, and plonking it into our tired Sylvania CRT TV; I remember the sensation of wonder as the Toho logo flashed on screen as the grating, groaning roar of Godzilla echoed throughout our tiny St. Louisian home.

My very first Godzilla film was that of Godzilla vs MechaGodzilla, the 1974 classic starring not just the hulking form of a heroic Godzilla, but the iconic evil robotic doppelgänger, MechaGodzilla, as well as the fictitious Okinawan kaiju legend: King Caesar! I sat with complete attention as the hilariously charming human characters fought tirelessly against a capitalistic "Space Ape" alien threat (despite my complete unawareness in this sudden thematic importance!) as Godzilla faced off repeatedly against his diabolical robotic body double, cheering and hooting in excitement as he and the ridiculously silly, lionlike form of King Caesar finally bested the alien robot in a tense and climatic final fight.

King Caesar displaying his "Prismatic Eyes" (プリズム式眼球) ability, which allow him to reflect MechaGodzilla's attack!

In a flash, I had become utterly infatuated with the tokusatsu genre of rubber suited monsters fighting for supremacy amongst gorgeously intricate miniatures - and thusly I began to fall in love with Godzilla himself.

Godzilla manages to trap MechaGodzilla in his hold!

He was more alive to me than the human beings who scrutinized every facet of my youthful self; he seemed more energetic, more invigorating, more emotional than the people who constantly glared at me, or asked why I looked so feminine despite my purported 'boyhood'; he seemed so full of authentic life in the way his body threw itself into the fray, in the way he always got back up in the heat of battle, in the way he fought for justice against overwhelming odds, even when the Earth he lived in despised him for his monstrous appearance.

In those days of my youth when the human world first became so obtrusive and cruel to me, I would often turn away from reality and to the broader and imaginative world of Godzilla and his many kaiju companions. I found myself forever enamored when he was on screen, a giant, atomic monument to the bodily human condition, a momentous example of a living, breathing being whose monstrous body and nonnormative form punished him with a world who hated him; and yet, Godzilla always fought for something, whether that something be freedom for himself, vengeance against those who had harmed him, or justice for the world that hated him. No matter how many times Godzilla was knocked down by human military might or by the brutal attacks of rival kaiju, he always got back up and kept on fighting – and in that way, he became my greatest hero.

Godzilla waving good-bye to Jet Jaguar, his robotic ally from the 1973 film, Godzilla vs. Megalon.

Despite his strangeness, despite his monstrousness, despite the hate that the world threw at him, Godzilla kept on living – and he kept on fighting. He became an inspiration for little four-year-old me, and continued to be that inspiration for ten-year-old me, and then fourteen-year-old me, and now even twenty-four-year-old me. Even with that first viewing of Godzilla vs. MechaGodzilla, Godzilla’s tenacity and the certain pride with which he carried himself filled me with some sort of excitement and drive for life – even if I didn’t know what I truly was at the time, Godzilla taught me that being strange, that being a monster was okay – and that I had every right to fight for that truth.

Even before I knew I was intersex, my burgeoning intersexual traits began to further remove me from the conventional human experience at a young age; into my early tween and teenage years, I continued to feel more and more inhuman and monstrous when I compared my body to that of other heteronormative people around me. In a way, the weirdness and uniqueness of my prepubescent form helped to push me even further into the fascination I held for Godzilla, as he too had a strange and one-off form; in almost every timeline and interpretation of Godzilla, there was nobody just like him, just as there was nobody I knew that was just like me.

I found this melancholic fact of Godzilla’s existence exemplified best in what would become my favorite film of the now 70-year-old franchise – the sequel to Godzilla’s triumphant return to cinema in Toho’s Return of Godzilla, a movie that often goes under the radar when the filmography of the atomic giant is discussed by critics and fans alike: the 1989 Heisei timeline piece, Godzilla vs. Biollante, directed by Kazuki Ōmori.

The incredible poster art for Godzilla vs. Biollante, illustrated by Noriyoshi Ohrai.

In this film (which is a fresh continuity, separate from the sequel films of the 1960's and 1970's), Godzilla - who is played now by Kenpachiro Satsuma - has returned closer to his roots in Ishiro Honda's original 1954 Godzilla as a more antagonistic figure, a monster whose roots as a radiated being damaged by human overuse of atomic technology granted him a level of humanlike sentience, a certain malignance towards the human race on account of their meddling with nature, and a bodily form that humans find grotesque, monstrous, and highly destructive. This Godzilla is frequently alluded to by the human cast of this Heisei timeline as being humanlike in his emotions, even described as being "capable of more emotion than we can show it," (Ōmori, Godzilla vs. Biollante, 1989) and more than capable of showing human sentiments, behaviors, and thoughts in the way he acts on the world around him.

As a child, the Heisei timeline of films began for me with the Godzilla vs. Biollante film, which my papa bought for me on VHS - a copy I still own to this day. I remember seating myself on a vintage IU Bloomington beanbag in front of my cousin's mid-90's Toshiba CRT television with the VHS whining away in the build-in recorder, the grainy picture coming to life with strange imagery of cells under a microscope, all the while with a haunting thematic motif playing over the surreal opening credits. My childhood self was utterly transfixed by the unconventional opening to the film - it reminded me instantly of the frightening imagery of the original 1954 Godzilla, or that of the surrealist arthouse film, Godzilla vs. Hedorah, from 1971.

Microscope view of cells undergoing mitosis; similar footage is used in the title credits of Godzilla vs. Biollante.

The human plot began with a race from multiple organizations to acquire skin samples from Godzilla's 1984 rampage in order to genetically modify crops to solve world hunger; the doctor leading the project - Dr. Genshiro Shiragami, played by Koji Takahashi - ends up losing his daughter, Erika, in a terrorist conflict which sought to acquire those samples from his laboratory, thus falling into a deep depression that inflicts him with some degree of psychosis, directly impacting his work.

In the process, Dr. Shiragami becomes a monster himself by merging the cells of his deceased daughter, the petals of a rose bush, and the cell samples from Godzilla into a single entity - a being he believes will live in perpetuity, endlessly replenished by Godzilla's irradiated, forever regenerating cells, keeping his daughter, Erika, "alive," (Ōmori, Godzilla vs. Biollante, 1989).

Even as a child, this plot rang a bell of resounding understanding from deep within my soul; I felt my own entrapping body being a reflection of Erika's newfound form within the conglomerate being, a woman (just as I felt as a trans child) trapped within a creature of multifaceted and eventually monstrous construction. I was no longer comparing my bodily condition - my ever evolving 'illness narrative' - with just Godzilla himself; I began to see myself in what would become his main foe of the film:

Biollante.

Miki Saegusa (Megumi Odaka) surveys Dr. Shiragami's rose bush, noting the psychic presence of Erika Shiragami's soul within the plant.

Biollante began as a simple combination of living things - a sample from Erika Shiragami (portrayed by Yasuko Sawaguchi), a sample from the roses, and a sample from Godzilla's tissue. From this unruly combination of life, Biollante would grow and mutate into what the human cast could only see as a being of grotesque and terrifying proportions - a monster.

They could no longer see the woman that had no say in becoming a part of the whole being; Erika was no longer 'there' as the police forces and JSDF faced off with the growing behemoth, which steadily grows over the first act of the film into a hulking titan of plant mass, with a massive rose head eventually rising out of Lake Ashinoko, near the doctor's laboratory.

The only people who could still see a woman from within a body of such titanic and terrifying proportions were that of Miki Saegusa (played by Megumi Odaka) a psychic who was empathetic to the plight of Earthly monsters, Dr. Shiragami, who became terrified of Erika's monstrous body, and that of Godzilla himself, who heard Biollante's wailing cries and broke free of his volcanic prison in order to investigate this creature that reminded him so dearly of himself (Ōmori, Godzilla vs. Biollante, 1989).

Rose Form Biollante's haunting cries, which were edited sound bytes of humpback whales performing songs in the Pacific Ocean.

The wailing cries of Biollante's "Rose Form" haunted me as a child, where they reminded me of a woman's cry; she sounded like she was in terrible pain, entrapped within a conglomerate body, unable to control what she had been suddenly reborn into. This form reminded me of the inherent transness of my childhood body, where I knew I wanted to be a girl, but couldn't yet escape the societal and familial expectations that forced me to stay repressed within the androgynous, boyish form of my hermaphroditic physical self.

This tied to my current feelings on the monstrous transgender self, and where the origins of this pride came from; as Susan Stryker believed that the transgender form was "unnatural," (Stryker, 240) but did not mean so with negativity - rather, she meant that there was innate beauty in its human-led construction, as being trans required the act of doing, of modifying - of playing a naturalized wargame with one's own self, just like Dr. Shiragami had done in constructing the amalgam behemoth that would become Biollante, or how the atomic bombs of World War II and their subsequent atomic tests of the 1940's created the mutated mass of the original Godzilla.

In a similar fashion to how Stryker referred to her own "monstrous" transgender body as being proudly "unnatural, a product of medical science, a technological construction: it is flesh torn apart and sewn together again in a shape other than that in which it was born," (Stryker, 239) I too began to look at my own form in such a way - as something much alike Biollante, but far freer; instead of being trapped within the monster, I was the monster in its entirety - a being I crafted myself, modifying my already unconventional hermaphroditic body into a feminine form more befitting the shape of my soul, a craft of "medical science" (Stryker, 239) that I could mold with my own hands.

In a way, I now feel more like a freed form of Biollante, where the monstrousness is not a negative attribute, but rather a natural part of who I am, and a natural part of the evolution of my selfhood as an intersexual and transsexual woman - the natural progression of my very own illness and bodily narrative becoming an acceptance of the monster, therefore freeing me from my fear of perception.

As Biollante's frightening Rose Form towered out of the lake, Dr. Shiragami notes his fear in what would happen if Godzilla encountered the newborn monster - fearing that the King of the Monsters would kill his daughter, all the while not realizing that what Biollante wanted was precisely that - the freedom of death. Unlike my current body, which I have found peace and pride in, Erika's conglomerate form inside of Biollante was extremely painful, with her soul constantly vying for supremacy amongst the constantly regenerating cells from Godzilla's skin sample. Erika was entrapped within a body that was not her own - a transgender allegory that essentially writes itself, the notion of a woman trapped within a man's body, or a man trapped within a woman's. In this case, Erika was trapped within what she and most of the world would view as a monster - much like how the world in reality seems to view the transgender experience as being "particularly monstrous," (Kallin, 54).

Biollante's Rose Form rises from Lake Ashinoko.

As Godzilla finally manages to evade the JSDF's attacks and finds himself face to face with Biollante's Rose Form, he acts almost curious, with his normally angry, vengeful, and destructive tendencies put aside for a moment as he considers the form of Biollante: for once, the King of the Monsters is rendered awe-struck, as he faces off with a creature so alike him, made from the same skin as him, a being that struggled with being alive just as much as he had. At first, Godzilla does not attack the wailing Biollante; he simply stares and groans at her, and the film's focus on Godzilla during this scene seems to clue in the audience that Godzilla understands why Biollante called him here - yet, he does not have the will to kill her and "set her free," as he has lived his entire life without a peer to share in this intimate experience of being a monster.

The filming of Godzilla's first fight with Biollante.

With Godzilla transfixed by the sight of Biollante, the rose kaiju seems to realize that he likely wouldn't attack her without additional impetus; as a result, the conglomerate might of Biollante launches an attack, sending her tendrils of snakelike plant limbs to assault Godzilla, attempting to choke him and even drilling through one of his hands. Engulfed in pain and stress from this sudden turmoil, Godzilla realizes that Biollante won't let him spare her - and he goes on the offensive. By doing so, Godzilla has agreed to give Biollante what "she" wants - what Erika wants - by 'freeing' her from the monstrous prison she finds herself suddenly reborn into, something that Godzilla himself could not escape from (Ōmori, Godzilla vs. Biollante, 1989).

In a twisted sense of dichotomous experience, I have always looked at this fight as being such a heartbreaking allegory for the transgender and intersexual bodily experience. Godzilla and Biollante are cut from the same cloth, monsters born from human follies, their bodies seen as monstrous, grotesque, and inhuman; they are vilified by humanity, seen as outcasts and unable to be humanized. Godzilla is cursed with his regeneration and essential immortality, unable to die and unable to free himself from the bodily pain he lives in as a direct result of human usage of atomic bombs; Biollante is a being forged from the misuse of scientific knowledge - a creature of agony, birthed from a concoction of human grief (Dr. Shiragami) and human greed (the terrorists who killed Erika). The two of them are full of strife, of struggle, and of bodily agony; they both sought freedom in the only way they knew how, with Godzilla acting out in rage and destruction, and Biollante wailing and hunting for death, so that Erika could be freed from the conglomerate being.

As I got into my teenage years and learned not just of my intersexuality, but also of the full brunt of my transsexuality, I found myself looking back on this scene with more and more interest. As Stryker later discusses in “My Words to Victor Frankenstein Above the Village of Chamonix–Performing Transgender Rage,” there is an idea of "great change" and "heralded transformation of the future" that occurs with the great coming of a monster - and it began to dawn on me that this scene is a fantastic representation of this very experience, that Biollante's constantly mutating, ever-changing form clashing with the unleashing of Godzilla's rage upon her are heralds of this "great transgender change" (Stryker, 240) the fact that a monster's arrival is an omen of transition, as Godzilla himself 'transitions' into a vanquisher of entrapment rather than solely a vengeful destroyer, and Biollante continuously becomes more and more Godzilla-ish as she uncontrollably mutates along her quest for bodily freedom.

As such, Godzilla and Biollante both become symbols of transgender entrapment in this one scene alone, as their clashing bodies represent two sides of the transgender spectrum of entrapment - on one side, Godzilla represents the ability to change, though an inability to fully find the willpower to 'transition' in order to find his very own "bodily freedom", (Kallin, 58), and on the other, Biollante represents the horror of the purely bodily form of entrapment, being (quite literally) the trans allegory of a "woman trapped within the wrong body," (Goldin-Perschbacher, 775), unable to help herself or save herself, instead wishing for death at the hands of the only creature capable of such an act: Godzilla.

In a burst of blue atomic fire, Godzilla manages to use his "nuclear pulse" ability to engulf Biollante's limb tendrils in flames, freeing himself from her attack; in a vain attempt to protect herself, the Godzilla cell side of Biollante raises her limbs to protect the "core" of her body, which ends up fruitless as Godzilla unleashes the full power of his atomic breath on her main body, blossoming the rose kaiju in a torrent of flames as her body begins to disintegrate into yellow, lamp like spores.

With a wailing cry, the Rose Form of Biollante ascends into the clouds in the form of those spores; at first glance, the human characters believe that Biollante - and, by extension, Erika - have been "freed" from their mortal coil; in the end, this is not the case. The G-cell components of Biollante react violently to the energy-dense explosion of Godzilla's atomic breath, and begin to vehemently regenerate themselves, further mutating the ascendant form of Biollante into a monster that would drive fear into the heart of even Dr. Shiragami himself:

The Monstrous "Final Form" of Biollante.

Biollante's monstrous "Final Form", a bestial plant that has shed her more human and rose-like components in favor of appearing much more Godzilla-like.

As a child, the Final Form of Biollante gave me horrific nightmares; I was utterly terrified of her sudden growth into a hulking, almost demonic figure - a figure that towered over the already humongous stature of Godzilla himself. Final Form Biollante's roar was twisted and made far grittier than her time as the Rose, more like the death rattle of a dying man, or the screaming rage of a wounded woman; it is made clear to the audience that Erika is no longer in control of the behemoth she finds herself trapped within, as the G-cell components of Biollante have fully taken control, their rage at humanity coalescing in a need to clash all the more violently with Godzilla.

When I entered my twenties, I was constantly filled with self-hatred and a sense of anger at everything around me, just as Godzilla was with humanity (Honda, Godzilla, 1954) and Biollante was with her newfound form. I was filled with a rage that I couldn't begin to describe at the time - but, looking back on it now, it was a rage really directed at the entirety of my body. I hated my transness, as well as my struggling notion of my burgeoning intersexual identity; I hated how my body had always been different, and had always been objectified and othered; I hated that I had to describe myself as a "monster" or a "Frankenstein of parts," (Stryker, 239) to find some semblance of pride in myself. I began to write heinously about twisted desires of wanting a hegemonic body, one that was born "normal"; it was the violent "final throws" of myself shedding the remainder of my heteronormative beliefs that had been drilled into my over the years of my original boyhood.

Stryker's notion of the unnatural, Frankenstein's monster ideal of trans acceptance (Stryker, 230-249) was not within the realm of my capabilities at the time; however, it was this movie and its clashing of transgender experiences and allegories through Godzilla and Biollante that helped me discover this truth - that having a body of "monstrous", nonnormative form is not a detriment or a means to which I could truly hate myself - rather, I have to keep on living (just as Godzilla does) with a sense of pride and happiness, as it is the only way that I can find freedom.

As Godzilla faces off with the terrifying Final Form of Biollante, he wavers only slightly before standing in resolution against her; even though he grows weaker and weaker by the minute due to the JSDF's attacks on him from the interim period between his fight with Rose Biollante and Final Form Biollante, Godzilla still stands toe-to-toe with Biollante, all in an effort to free both Biollante and Erika from their bodily suffering - something that Godzilla cannot yet do for himself.

Watching Godzilla face off with Biollante's screaming, wailing Final Form is not just a tremendous display of Toho's incredible suitmation capabilities of the time, but also a beautiful display of Godzilla's willingness to keep on fighting, even with the world against him. In a way, Godzilla represents the ultimate core of transness at this point, as he fights a far bigger, far more powerful foe in an effort to set his enemy "free", and assist in transitioning her to a new form of life - a freer, happier life, no longer enchained by a body that entraps her.

Though their fight becomes bloody and brutal, the weakening Godzilla manages to land a fatal blow on Biollante through firing an atomic breath through her mouth; in doing so, he manages to separate Erika's soul from the conglomerate being, allowing the spores of the Godzilla side of Biollante to float up and away into the Earth's atmosphere to become a "freer, more complete" being (Ōmori, Godzilla vs. Biollante, 1989) and the Erika side of Biollante to manifest one last time in a blindingly bright image of Dr. Shiragami's daughter, before her soul transitions to the afterlife, finally free from her father's act of entrapment.

Watching Erika's soul be freed from her bodily entrapment as Biollante was a scene that always made me cry, even now as an adult; with the gorgeous "Erika" theme (composed by the incredible Koichi Sugiyama, who helped direct the movie) playing sonorously in the background as Godzilla mournfully roars for his fallen enemy. I always saw myself in Erika, especially as her human form appears in a blinding light from the decaying body of the monstrous Biollante; while she is no longer human, her soul has become something new, transitioned into a higher plane of being; a plane of existence I never believed I could reach, especially as a child. Erika's transition to a freed human soul and Biollante's transition to a wispy, gentle form of life reminded me of my desire to become a woman as a child, and even as a teenager; I always desired what Erika managed to grasp - a new form of life, a life that she was formerly enchained away from, unable to access and indulge in. This great monstrous "change" is indicative too of Stryker's notion of the monster's desire to change, (Stryker, 240) to transition the world around them, to transition themselves into something new, something accepted by the world; in a way, I have now both accepted and defied this view, becoming a woman proud of her monstrous body, but also one willing and accepting of change in the world around me.

Even so, I now find myself indulging more in the notions of Stryker's belief in the cacophony of "monstrous transness" - I now see myself not just as a transgender reflection of Godzilla, of Erika, and of Biollante's freedom, but also that of the monstrous forms themselves; when I see Biollante's wailing rage as she fights vigorously against her human attackers and Godzilla, I see myself, fighting against an oppressive society; when I hear Godzilla's mournful roar as he weeps at the sight of Biollante's remnant rose fields, I hear myself, crying as I managed to nick myself with a facial razor at 4 in the morning on a school night, desperate for a "good enough" shave so that I can "pass" for the next day.

I can see the full spectrum of my transness, of my intersexness, of my entire being all through the struggles of these monsters I grew to love like my family. Like Godzilla and Biollante, I too struggle with the feelings of bodily entrapment; I too sometimes feel so overwhelmed by a world that hates people like me that I wish I could unleash my own atomic breath on the Marriott building in Indianapolis, just as Godzilla does when the world attacks him for the mere crime of existing. I too feel the drive to scream and wail for help and comfort, just as the Rose Form of Biollante did as she waded out into the empty, foggy Ashinoko Lake, alone and frightened of her nonconventional form.

When I have my intersex periods, where I'm forced to bleed through a more conventionally male uterus and have cramps that make my body feel like its engulfed in flames, I think of Biollante, and how Erika's wailing cries were her call for help amidst a turmoil of bodily agony; when I accidentally cut my face in the shower as I work my body to the bone in an effort to present a passing performance of conventional femininity for the world, I think of Godzilla, his hands bleeding with Biollante's blood, his face covered in the murky brine of Lake Ashinoko and the salty tang of his own grieving tears.

Godzilla vs. Biollante is an underrated film of the 70-year-old franchise, a film that encompasses the themes of bodily entrapment and feminine enclosure all in a package of surrealist, atmospheric beauty; in every scene, I grew to see a means of transness hidden away in the corners, in the way Godzilla's anger brews against the humans who hate him, in the way Biollante's wailing call struck the chords of my heart and drew tears from Godzilla's quivering eye.

This film is indicative not just of the transgender and intersexual experience, but of the extraordinary bodily experience - the feeling of being othered and forever enchained by a world who cannot accept a body so different from their basis of normalcy. Godzilla, as a King of Monsters, is thus a King of Deviants - a monster who fights for the freedom of the creatures who cannot be accepted by society. His championing of freedom, in both searching for freedom for himself and giving Biollante her own freedom, is a feeling at the cornerstone of the transgender ideal - that finding our own freedom is the basis of our lives, the core to which gives our souls meaning.

As a child who could not find a soul to protect me, to comfort me and support me, as a teenager whose tears were forgotten by family and hidden under preshrunk cotton sweatshirts, as a young woman whose fears grew into paranoia and whose pain turned into anger, Godzilla was always the only person who could give me comfort.

Even when he cried and mourned for his fallen enemy, I knew that he would stand up again and fight for another day to live as himself.

Even as Biollante ascended to the heavens, transitioned to a higher plane of existence while Godzilla stayed glued to the Earth, I knew he would keep fighting for the freedom to truly be at peace.

His mournful roar amidst the foggy cloud of a bleeding lake is a sound that permeates throughout my entire being, a noise that jumpstarts a cacophony of love and awe in the thrice-bandaged heart I call my own.

When I see Godzilla, I see myself: a struggler, destined to fight for their right to exist.

When I see myself, I see Godzilla: a monstrous form, othered by the world, seeking the truth to learn to love themselves.

And just like the Heisei Godzilla eventually finds the perfect form for himself, I too have managed to find freedom: I have finally learned to love who I am, for all my scars, for all my transness, for all my weird hermaphroditic pieces.

I love being a monster. I may never be like a cisgender human, and that's okay: I'm fine with being me, even with all my "monstrous change," (Stryker, 430) (Rowan, 3).

I have always found myself more at home with Godzilla anyway.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How long have we been living in such an age? Maybe it started when man first stepped out of the garden of Eden and left his innocence behind. Man would do well to remember this day, forever."

Erika Shiragami, the final lines of Godzilla vs. Biollante.

Thank you, Godzilla, King of the Monsters. You saved me, just like you saved her.

Writer's Statement

Godzilla has been the cornerstone of my life for as long as I can remember; he and the genre of tokusatsu have helped me discover the entirety of my personhood, from the depths of my transsexuality, to the inner workings of my intersexuality, and even to the boundaries of my sexuality and interests in the world around me.

I have long always admired him for the tenacity and drive that each interpretation of Godzilla carries with him; no matter the circumstances, no matter the battle, Godzilla will always keep getting back up, adamant to pursue what will bring him freedom.

As a woman of multifaceted constitution, I have always longed for the ability to do as Godzilla does - the ability to always keep moving forward, even in the face of unbelievable oppression. With my intersexuality, transsexuality, and copious health issues, I often find myself faced with what seems like a tireless, never-ending tirade of ill-fated events from life's toolbox of horrors; however, when I look to Godzilla, I see a means to escape from this cycle. When I look to Godzilla, I see an inspiration, a drive to keep on moving forward, to keep on loving myself and indulging myself in the pride of having a nonnormative body, a "monstrous" body, just as he has; I wish to act out against the world, just as he does, in an effort to show the world that they cannot oppress me, that they cannot stop me from living a life of pride - my vengeance, my pride, my happiness, it all fuels me, just as Godzilla is, too.

Even in my fragile body, I can feel the strength of Godzilla pushing me along, making me want to love the weirdness and the strangeness I was born with, and what I have created for myself through my transness.

With Godzilla, I feel like I can tackle anything, even the ever-evolving narrative of illness I face on a day-to-day life.

With Godzilla, I feel unstoppable, full of pride and joy in the community of transgender love I indulge in with my newfound family.

With Godzilla, I feel like me. Unequivocally me.

Authentically me.

[collymore]

Simply and unequivocally pure evil!

By Stanley Collymore

Women giving birth then literally, quite physically dumping their newborn babies undeniably rather conveniently wherever and also in whatever circumstances, which actually they really distinctively deem necessary is unquestionably as far as I'm crucially personally concerned, a monstrous act of nasty, inhuman barbarity; regardless of wherever these locations, which are really intentionally chosen, specifically are! Abandoning babies: very solely as a woman, a male or crucially jointly as a couple, in parks; sickeningly, leaving them to effectively roast, in dreadfully hot, and clearly airless, cars; basically very unimaginably so, distinctly going on holiday and too leaving essentially totally vulnerable babies on their own and all this crucially evidently with so many resources and clearly essential help available - it's undoubtedly, quite evidently, basically incomprehensible that such so-called parents still quite simply just can't truly find the time to deal with the vital task of undeniably totally sensibly caring for a newborn life which obviously they were rather irrefutably significantly instrumental in individually creating and basically essentially brought into this world! I guess, when all is undoubtedly said and done, cell phones, social media along with dating apps and the like, are truly evidently, greater priorities to such discernibly, very thoroughly braindead, simply selfish and really similarly, self-servingly narcissistic and evilly, psychopathic imbeciles!

(C) Stanley V. Collymore 24 July 2024.

Author's Remarks: A mentality quite entrenched across white dominated, Western society that children are both usable and similarly disposable! And therefore, evidently as such, abortion and Planned Parenthood haven't actually worked as intended, and unquestionably discernibly not such evil persons as are referred to in this poem.

But the problem goes wider with children in many cases simply a marketing and as well a PR commodity. If in doubt of that, just take an objective and honest look at the British monarchy!

Furthermore, most people who are willing to adopt simply want infants that they can deceitfully, dishonestly and simply, clearly fatuously also, pass off as their biological offspring. And additionally actually want such children to be very healthy, often of the same ethnicity and not addicted, as their biological parents were, to alcohol or drugs!

All this put into perspective, the very vast majority of children in the clear adoptable category still end up in care homes where they invariably stay until they're 18 years, become adults and are obliged to leave.

Realistically, the intelligent options would be, if one doesn't want children, to simply use contraceptive methods, abstain from having sex, becoming sterilized or having a partner(s) who are azoospermiac crucially obviously in the case of a male or actually as a female, sterile or apparently sexually responsible and not have children that she doesn't crucially want but is basically too bone idle to truly do something positive about her situation.

But whatever the circumstances are being so barbarically hideous to a young and a very defenceless infant is beyond words!

Since from my personal perspective the only justifiable reason for any female quite uncaringly giving up a baby that she has carried full term and subsequently to that process had delivered but for her is unquestionably, deservedly unwanted, is if she’s been raped and in that barbaric process made pregnant. Even then, there are legal provisions in place to deal with the rapist, if known, and for the woman or girl who has been raped and thus enforcedly made a mother to morally be rid of that child without employing barbarous actions against a quite innocent child, like rather callously disposing of it in a dumpster or some such receptacle as if it were nothing but rubbish. Unwanted by the mother, yes; and understandably so, but that infant is still a human being and, furthermore, quite innocent of the process that caused it to be born.

[oldschoolfrp]

Four typical D&D tieflings from their earliest sources in AD&D 2e, all by Tony DiTerlizzi--

Top is the tiefling Factol Rhys of the Transcendent Order, from A Player’s Guide to the Planes in the Planescape Campaign Setting boxed set (1994).  The very first description of a tiefling I can find is from this book:

Part human and part something else, tieflings are the orphans of the planes.  They can be described as humans who’ve been plane-touched.  A shadow of knife-edge in their face, a little too much fire in their eyes, a scent of ash in their presence -- all these things and more describe a tiefling.

And that’s it for their physical appearance.  DiTerlizzi’s illustration goes farther in establishing goat legs and hooves, very long ears, and a tail as options.  They are noted as taking half damage from cold-based attacks, with a +2 bonus to saves vs fire, electricity, and poison.

Middle is a much more human-looking tiefling, from the Monstrous Compendium Planescape Appendix (1994) which notes they are:

as varied as the places they call home.  Superficially human, their appearance always betrays them: some sport small horns, other have pointed ears, scales, a cloven hoof, or just a wicked gleam in their eye that never leaves. . .  They’re often confused with alu-fiends, erinyes, incubi, and succubi (which they’ll forgive). . .”

Their diet is distinctly non-human -- They prefer to eat only meat, preferably raw, especially blubber, gristle, and insects, but can survive a short time on “ashes, coal, and other mineral matter.”  Their favorite beverages are “strange concoctions of broth, oil, sulphur, and firewater.”

Bottom are two tieflings accompanying the new d100 random Tiefling Tables from The Planewalker’s Handbook by Monte Cook (1996).  Player character tieflings roll 1d4 times on the Tiefling Appearance table, which gives only 7% chance per roll of horns in some configuration, 2% pointed ears, 6% various combinations of goatlike legs/hooves, and 7% some type of tail.  Inhuman skin color finally shows up as an explicitly stated option, with a 1% chance for green-tinted, 1% blue-tinted, 1% red-tinted, and 2% striped markings, as well as 5% total green, blue, or multicolored hair and 19% additional results of hairy, hairless, scaly, leathery, or feathers.  Also 3% would have red eyes, 2% black with no whites, 1% feline eyes, and 2% “extremely deep-set eyes.”  Damage resistances and innate magical abilities also were highly variable and randomized in this supplement.

Today the 5e Players Handbook (2014) has standardized some of these traits like always having large horns though of varying shapes, thick tails 4-5′ long, and solid color eyes, while emphasizing certain variability -- eyes may be solid black, red, white, or silver, and hair could be dark black, brown, red, blue, or purple.  Normal human skin coloration remains the first option mentioned, though "various shades of red” are a possibility.  Of course, as always, players and DMs can choose to reskin their tieflings however they wish at their tables, and wildly colored tieflings have become popular.

[jasperathrifteddoll]

The werewolf as a symbol in Stephen King's IT, a ramble

A fascinating detail from the book I haven't seen anyone talk about is how the symbol of the werewolf appears not just for Richie, but for Patty Uris.

In her appearance in chapter 3, Patty describes the discrimination she has faced as a Jewish person, the expectations that has been put on her by her parents and herself to be successful and 'Normal,' and how the fear has lingered despite her comparatively happy life.

As a teenager she and her date were barred from attending prom for being Jewish, and the details of this event are seared painfully in her mind. The click of her heels on the ground, the sound of onlookers laughing at her, and the dress her mother said made her look like a "Mermaid."

She thinks of the idea of being a Jewish mermaid as ridiculous. Though i am uncertain if this is due to a contrast between a generally loved fairytale being and the perception of Jewish people, or comparison between this perception and the non-human-ness of mermaids. Regardless, the thematic idea of mermaids is strong: to a be a being caught between two worlds, partly a person, and partly an inhuman creature. In common stories, mermaids appear to sailors only showing their upper halves, and so are able to lure them to grisly ends. Already I would say that the mermaid can be compared to the werewolf in it's connotations.

Stanley, who remembers the most out of the losers (aside from Mike) buys books by Bill Denbrough, aware that they were childhood friends. Patty immediately dislikes the novels, considering them frightening and in bad taste.

Though she points out a particular one with anger: a book about werewolves.

Here Patty uses the werewolf as a symbol for the discrimination and fear she has experienced. She may try desperately to conform to the social standards set for her, to become successful, happy and 'Normal,' but the fear of being targeted always exists. This is expressed through her constant worries that others are gossiping about her and her husband, and that their safety and security will be compromised for being Jewish.

And so she thinks of Bill Denbrough and his book with derision, because in her eyes he is a man with no troubles and at the top of the social hierarchy (a view that is mostly true, Evil Space Clown and Childhood Trauma aside), and could never understand the experience of being a symbolic werewolf. Something seen as dangerous, monstrous and inhuman, and something that must hide and pretend, that lives in constant fear of it's own exposure.

And while I foremost wanted to discuss Patty Uris, I also think this is a useful detail to think about when it comes to Richie's werewolf. As stated before, Stephen King has established the werewolf through Patty as: Something seen as dangerous, monstrous and inhuman, and something that must hide and pretend, that lives in constant fear of it's own exposure. And furthermore connected it with experience of being a minority facing discrimination.

And so it is interesting to look at the connection between Richie Tozier and his own werewolf. What is the monster he is so afraid others will see him as? Neither Richie or King himself gives us any concrete answers.

Personally I think that Richie's position as a young boy with visible differences/disability, such as his glasses/poor eyesight (something he attempts to hide as an adult) and complicated behaviourial issues, that are likely undiagnosed ADHD, are strong factors. As someone who similarly grew up with undiagnosed ADHD, I can attest to a strong feeling of being "too much" and distinctly abnormal, something that has bordered on monstrous or alien.

Queerness, in terms of being Bisexual/Gay is also a good fit within his story. His relationship with Eddie and how the Werewolf itself ties into the long history between movie monsters and Queerness is well discussed. Bisexuality especially, can be easily matched to the duality of the werewolf and I personally interpret Richie as such.

But regardless, Richie is shown to put facades up in front of most of his genuine emotions, and is described as confusing by many characters, including his own mother. He is a teller of half-truths and of course, a performer at heart. And in some ways, through his concealment of his inner thoughts to the reader, seems almost aware of his status as a book's narrator.

--

Yeah, so werewolves are a really fun symbol and creature, and I just wanted to blabble (:

There are lots of other great analyses of Richie Tozier's Werewolf on Tumblr, especially ones that delve deeper into queer interpretation, so I recommend you search for them if ya like this sort of thing.

Or just check out any of the posts on @reddieanalysis. Lots of fun stuff for the literary analysis nerd who is also head over heels for those clown fighting boyfriends.

[albatris]

"A Rental Car Takes a Left Down Rake Street and Disappears" is the first book in a campy gory horror trilogy about a freshly-turned body-horror mode vampire and an equally monstrous human bastard on their quest to kill the giant vampire hivemind known only as "the Garble"!

Schizotypal hermit Nat Finch leaves work one afternoon, and the next thing he knows he's waking up on the side of the road covered in mud with no memory of the last nine days. All attempts to return to regular life are quickly thwarted - whatever happened during his blackout has left him morphing into something distinctly inhuman. As his new condition reaches a bloody, ravenous breaking point, a human stranger steps in: Quinn Cooper, powerful and dazzling manipulator with a cruel streak, here to mitigate the damage and offer Nat safety under their wing... as long as Nat does exactly what he's asked and doesn't ask questions.

The story in book one is mostly Nat trying to solve his little mystery (What Happened During His Blackout And Why He Got Vampired) while slowly uncovering the grim secrets Quinn is hiding. Book one mostly lays the groundwork and foreshadowing for my "vampirism as a condition is just one giant hivemind" worldbuilding, while books two and three explode it open and explore it properly :3

The first draft is completed and I'm aiming to have the second draft finished this year! There's lots of work to do yet!

Plot twist! Instead of sharing an excerpt, share an intro post or short description of your WIP or published/completed work!

Check the reblogs to read others’ responses!

If you’d rather make your own post, no problem!

Click here for more “share an excerpt” tips.

[thesacredtwink]

It has been three whole days since the update last Friday and I have not been able to stop thinking about Twilight and his line “So you want to fight like a beast now? Fine...I can too!”

Just, the word choice of “Beast”. Jojo has been really leaning into the twilight princess imagery with these last few updates, so its no surprise that they referenced the “Divine Beast” label that Twilight was given during his journey. The word choice always made me pause when playing the game because of the connotations it carries. At its core, the word beast refers to something inhuman and dangerous. Sometimes it means an animal, but more often than not it gets used when animal wont suffice.

And I’ve always wondered what carrying such a title around would do to a person, how it would change the way you view yourself. With the bunny legend arc, Jojo touched on how hard the wolf form has been on Twilight. He straight up admits to Legend that people mistake him for Wolfols, and we know from Twilight Princess that people have attacked him in wolf form (Rusl). And Jojo also establishes that in the LU, your animal form says something about you as a person.

Now, Wolves are notorious for being pack animals, which fits really well with Twilight and how he watches the chain. But Twilight grew up in a farming community. Goats, specifically. Animals like wolves would have been one of the largest threats back home. They wouldn’t have the...greatest of images in Twilights life growing up. They would be dangerous, a threat to his whole communities way of life, and now he is one.

Which brings me back to the word choice of beast. Because when he calls out Dink in the last update, he isn’t just saying that whatever Dink can dish out Twilight can return tenfold. (“So you want to fight like a beast now?”) He points out that Dink has changed fighting styles, falling back to something distinctly different from the cold calculating, and frankly intelligent methods that the baddie has been using so far. And then, AND THEN, Twilight puts himself on the same level. (“Fine...I can too!”)

And it reveals a lot about how Twilight views himself. Yes, beast is one of his titles, but by putting himself and Dink on the same level it implies that Twilight views himself as something like the Lizard. Something dark, and just a little bit monstrous.

[albatris]

Honestly, I just wanna vibe with you for a bit. You said to ask you questions and, to be fair, I would love to know about rentalcar!, Because I just started following you and your blog feels like a deepdive-fandom-lore for a fandom I'm not in. Like, it is a scary story, and then something something vampires? But what else? How would you describe your Baby ™ as?

Hiiii hello! Let's vibe! I am pouring you a sweet warm drink of your choice and offering u a biscuit :D

I can absolutely tell you about rentalcar aka A Rental Car Takes a Left Down Rake Street and Disappears! my very first foray into writing proper horror c: plus my first time writing a viewpoint character who's schizotypal like me! it's been very fun on both counts

I'm going to borrow my description from the discord 'cause it's the neatest one I've got right now~

This is a campy queer horror trilogy about a freshly-turned body-horror vampire and an equally monstrous human bastard on their quest to murder the giant vampire hivemind god known as "the Garble". It's violent and silly and full of rage about capitalism and ableism, among other things!

Schizotypal hermit Nat Finch leaves work one afternoon, and the next thing he knows he's waking up on the side of the road covered in mud with no memory of the last nine days. All attempts to return to regular life are quickly thwarted - whatever happened during his blackout has left him morphing into something distinctly inhuman. When his new condition reaches a bloody, ravenous breaking point, a human stranger steps in: Quinn Cooper, powerful and dazzling manipulator with a cruel streak, here to mitigate the damage and offer Nat safety under their wing... as long as Nat does exactly what he's asked and doesn't ask questions.

The story in book one is mostly Nat trying to solve his little mystery (What Happened During His Blackout And Why He Got Vampired) while slowly uncovering the grim secrets Quinn is hiding. Book one mostly lays the groundwork and foreshadowing for my "vampirism as a condition is just one giant hivemind" worldbuilding, while books two and three explode it open and explore it properly :3

Other MCs include Alex, rigidly moral vampire lawyer having ten existential crises at once, Yvonne, cheery video game fanatic full of barely-contained simmering fury (she works customer service, you get it), and Zeke, romance novelist by day and vampire hunter by night, who desperately needs to stop burning herself out every other week and practice some self-care.

I've been working on it for a bit over a year now! I'm aiming to have a draft of book one finished and ready for beta readers by the end of the year :3

I also have a lot of fun facts and lore about rentalcar brand vampires I can tell you about!! it's some of my favourite worldbuilding I've ever done!

also there's a playlist!!

[allegreta]

To be paired with her lady Elincia fills Leanne with such joy, despite the general forboding of a combat simulation. Her other teammates seem to be seasoned soldiers; Leanne feels distinctly out of place, but it is her duty as a princess to have knowledge and ability to defend her people and loved ones, regardless of conflict's antithetical nature in her heart.

(And perhaps, these simulations in which she is granted power beyond what she normally has are something she seeks out, regardless of discomfort.)

Leanne finds herself in heron form, but empowered, somehow. Like the hawks Reyson idolizes, claws and beak ready to rend flesh. She is in flight, circling the boat where her allies Naoise and Minerva face down the wretched beasts surrounding them, adjacent to Elincia who sits atop a pegasus as she does in the waking realm.

"I'm here!" Leanne turns, watching as the smaller fishlike beasts circle the boat, focused in such a synchronized way she feels they must be following something.

There! A shadow beneath the surface, the gleam of armored scales. Something monstrous and calculating, lurking and watching their every move.

"I think I see their commander!" Perhaps to a beorc, attributing this level of intelligence to such inhuman beings so easily would seem odd, but Leanne feels confident. This is who they should target, the mastermind pulling the strings. "There!"

Backup activates! ELINCIA assists! [-1HP, SOPHROSYNE 19/20HP] NAOISE assists! [-1HP, SOPHROSYNE 18/20HP]

Elincia and Naoise flush it out with ranged weapons, hardly piercing its hide but revealing its location for Leanne to dive in, sharpened beak and waterproof feathers flashing as she breaches the water herself. If it won't come to them, she will utilize her abilities to bring the fight to it!

LEANNE 10/10HP hits SOPHROSYNE 18/20HP with Short Spear! [Roll 13-6=7, 13-6=7, Hit and Hit! -2HP, SOPHROSYNE 16/20HP]

The beast screeches as it swims away from her; she can feel the blood on her tongue as it pierces a weak spot. Feelings swirl together in a dizzy haze as she takes to the air once more. Where there should be nausea, there is a hawklike enthusiasm. She wonders if Reyson will be jealous when she recounts.

[TEAM 5 BRONZE] fr what happens if we can't swim /srs

[tothedarkdarkseas]

I hadn't seen those sketches either, and I was fascinated enough to look up Gregory Hergert's art. There's undeniably a resemblance between his sketches of Stu and the girls to some of his paintings that depict a woman being looked at by an animal or monster. It's refreshing to see Stu drawn as animalistic and monstrous in his desires. Also, you're right; the sketches really do look like something Stu would draw himself.

Oh, you're so right to say that! I was also scouring his Instagram and other art sources to confirm the sketches were his-- I don't actually own the artbook myself at this time to spot the credits, so I was looking for any "Greg" affiliated with it, haha-- and was also struck with some of the pieces of "uncanny sexualization." There's a theme of juxtaposing two distinct figures, or one subject against a bizarre setting or prop that linked objectification with inhumanity, be it animals, insects, monsters or the lack of human life represented by figures of death. Fitting Stu into that (and not Murdoc, which I think may be the more natural impulse) is a real treat to see, as I think he better showcases the innocuous monster of man, and there's just something extra special about pairing him with the dingy plainclothes and unglamorous scenes, but not injecting any sort of misery into it. The art isn't dreary, it's weirdly exciting. It's a reminder that Stu is not, despite the impulse of drawing contrasting comparisons with Murdoc, born with a silver spoon in his mouth nor is he really in demand of "high standards" for living and consuming to appease his appetite. Busking and biking, searching for something in a skip, calling to girls on his ride, stains on his shirt, making money for a Maccy D's run, playing the mundane and the perverse and the slightly grotesque against each other but so distinctly unbrooding in tone. I'm glad you agree that it gives off the image of how P0-P1 lad Stu would've drawn himself in his notebooks.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

C!Dream, C!Sam and Dehumanization: in this essay I will-

1) It is difficult to empathize with those who act deeply out of the norm; this includes people who commit vile acts, such as abuse or murder.

2) The human instinct upon viewing something horrible is to separate themselves from it, whether physically, mentally, or emotionally. The lack of empathy makes it easier, and humans will emphasize this internally, attempting to cut off all empathy for people who commit such acts.

3) This empathetic separation is comfortable; if the person committing horrible crimes is no longer a person, then they are an other, and there’s no fear of whether a person might commit such acts. In other words, if vile criminals aren’t human, humans have nothing to worry about, and anyone you deem as human enough cannot be a vile criminal, including yourself.

4) Anyone can commit crime. Anyone can sin. Anyone can do horrible things to another human being/animal/community/etc. They are still human, even afterwards, and can still command sympathy/empathy, whether accidentally or intentionally.

5) The above statement is distinctly uncomfortable, and in attempting to reconcile it with a complex character who has done wrong, two distinct results occur:

5A) “This character’s acts are not as bad as believed, because this character is too human.” (I.e. the character can still be empathized with)

5B) “This character is not as human as believed, because these acts are too awful.” (I.e. the audience can remove all empathy to this character from themselves)

6) This dilemma is especially interesting in contexts where characters do not have to be of human species to be sentient, such as in the Dream SMP, where players are very commonly inhuman. Examples: Ranboo (part enderman), Hannahxxrose (fairy), Awesamdude (creeper)

7) This variety of species requires a new definition of humanity, broadened beyond a biological one into a philosophical one. The solution in the Dream SMP is to define a “human” character as a player in survival mode, and any creatures said players designate as “human”; I.e. having the sentience and/or complex thought required to participate in the plot in some fashion. For example, Michael_Beloved could be considered a “human” character, despite being a mob and not a player; his presence affects other character’s decisions in the SMP, and Tubbo and Ranboo assign willfulness to his actions (liking to stand on the cake, staring out the window to look outside, etc).

8) C!Dream is not only canonically human (C!Dream, not C!DreamXD), he fits the SMP criteria for “human”: he is a player in survival mode who can affect other players. By all accounts, C!Dream is not an “other” from other player characters. He is capable of contributing to the plot, he is capable of interacting with other characters, and more importantly, he is capable of connecting to a human audience. He passes the Turing test.

9) C!Dream is a selfish, manipulative, abusive character. He has committed acts of violence, abuse, murder, manipulation, and more. Many of the other characters have a strained relationship with his.

10) The same attempt at separation between C!Dream and his human audience occurs, just as it occurs between real criminals and other people. Much of DSMP fandom discourse revolves around how much humanity is extended to his character, and what that humanity means for how his audience should view/interact with him.

11) C!Dream is human. C!Dream commits monstrous acts. The fact that C!Dream can still connect with the audience at all, after all he’s done, is terrifying. But the fact doesn’t go away: C!Dream, by Dream SMP standards, is not a monster/alien/other, and other characters can become like him with the right pressures/choices/situations.

12) C!Awesamdude.

[junkyardlynx]

ch. 1

“Don’t you remember? You were the one that came up with the idea years ago -- if things ever got too fucking weird, we’d bail into the forest for a week or two. Reset our heads, unplug from the Matrix or whatever. C’mon, man. Don’t tell me you’re gonna bail on US instead. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

---

Pale sunlight filtered down through the misty branches, bathing the small clearing in an almost ethereal light. Morning dew glistened. Birds sung sweetly. The leaves and the eaves swayed and twisted to unheard music. This ritual carried on for thousands of years uninterrupted, a fresh and timeless dawn. The mountain air breathed sweet, as if inhaling it could remove all of one’s fears and anxieties, carried out on the carbon dioxide of hot, hot breath. The light of the morning disappeared further north as the canopy thickened considerably, devouring any remnant of the outside world. It was a perfect sort of darkness; welcoming and tender to the uninformed. In that isolated little haven, the sun and moon were equal, both providing just enough light to get lost by. Common sense would say to avoid it, but the allure of the unknown is often too inviting. 

Silas found himself at a crossroads, as it wasn’t only the allure of the unknown that beckoned him north -- it was the actual, real, written invitation he’d received in the mail some four days ago after a particularly long phone call. The postcard contained only two lines: a set of coordinates and the words “bring party favors. C.” Party favors. Right. Coy fucker. Just write alcohol, he thought.

This was the right choice. His boss would figure things out somehow. Prick could barely differentiate his left foot from his right, but that was someone else’s problem. For a bit, anyway. Silas was always the quiet problem solver, the one who fixed all the gunked-up shit in the background so the company could trundle onwards with undeserved confidence like there was never an issue at all. Thankless work, but it paid well and let him use his brain while staying out of social situations. 

Using that industrious little noggin of his, he managed to discern where to go once he reached the coordinates by making sense of the clues left by Charles. Thankfully, Big C had the good sense not to carve anything into trees like the destructive little knob he usually was. Instead, Charles left little crumpled up notes inside of brown paper bags. Things like childhood anecdotes, vague reminders of promises, shopping lists, all capped off with the next direction Silas should head in. While outwardly professing his frustration, Silas did have to admit the little game they were engaged in was fun. Part of him wondered if Charles did this for the other five people coming out to the Hundred-Mile Wilderness. Probably. 

Maybe it was all part of that unwinding, that unplugging, that escape they all craved in this crazy, pandemic-riddled year. The kind of escape that only truly fortunate people could afford anymore - the ability to leave your life behind for a bit without major financial or social repercussion. Acutely aware of his luck and feeling a bit of shame for needing an escape from such a cushy life, Silas picked up the pace, heading north, into the deeper darkness as if to assuage his guilt. 

The thing they don’t tell you about forests is just how fucking dense they are, Silas complained internally, wiping the sweat from his brow a his monstrous backpack’s straps dug into his shoulders. Though he was familiar with the forests and woods of Maine, the Hundred-Mile Wilderness was an altogether different beast. Perhaps some sort of Questing one. The waist-high brush and bushes popped up without sense or logic, gnarled roots erupting through the understory of the forest as if to trip up any unsuspecting hiker on purpose. Seeing any appreciable distance ahead was out of the question, so a careful trek through the trees usually meant one would keep their head pointed firmly at the forest floor.

That made the unfamiliar noises of the wilderness all the more alien. 

Squeaks, cracks, crunching, twittering, skittering, and most concerning - stillness. While everything might unnerve the invasive species known as human beings by virtue of sheer unfamiliarity, it also indicated a relatively peaceful time. True stillness was something to be rightfully feared. 

That quiet, that stillness was the forest holding its breath. Like a hero in a horror movie, stifling their noisy lungs so the craven killer, the creature wouldn’t catch them. The wilderness operated on the same logic, really. Something big and dangerous was skulking around, and it was best to make yourself scarce before you became a hungry bear’s lunch. 

It was nothing Silas hadn’t experienced before when hiking with his father, or camping with Charles and Samir. They’d usually just pack up any particularly smelly rations and give that patch of the wild a large berth, but the thing is? Those true moments of stillness were particularly rare. Maybe one in ten trips. 

A stillness had been following him for the last two days, coming on strong and sudden for a few minutes at a time. Birds would shiver out of a song, insects would find an excuse to stop biting for five seconds, treetop rodents froze in terror, and even the waving of the high, high branches seemed to stop. In those moments, it felt like something of singular intelligence and intent was drilling its eyes into him. 

For lack of a better word, Silas felt hunted. 

He did his best to shake that feeling, knowing it invited nothing but paranoia. Nothing bad had happened, anyway.  Best not to let it ruin his oddly good mood.

However, as he stumbled and  and navigated around a large, flowering bush of honeysuckle, all sound in the forest was simply...swallowed up. Even the telling clod of his own hiking boots striking the earth produced a startling amount of nothing. Confusion turned to fear, turned to agitation, turned to...laughter. That kind of manic, annoyed laughter that twined itself to the urge to cry. 

“Charlie! Charles! Big C! I fuuuuuuuuucking get it! You can stop bro! It’s supremely hilarious that you’ve been pranking me, but just come out here and give me a hug or something.”

A beat.

The empty forest produced nothing. No answer, no friend, no friendship. No sound. An ever-dying amount of daylight. 

A beat turned to two, turned to ten. Nothing. Nothing but an immense feeling of being observed, scrutinized, investigated, seen down to his very core as if there was nothing he could hide no sin no saintliness nothing secret from the watchful eyes of the world as it bore down on him with distinctly inhuman intelligence and intention deeper and deeper into-

Then, as if someone had turned the forest back on, birdsong filled the trees once more. Particularly fat and greedy mosquitoes honed in on Silas’ hot skin and with comedic precision, a squirrel tumbled harmlessly from one branch and down to another. Giving itself a momentary grooming to remove the debris it had acquired on its trip, it scampered off like it had a hot date it couldn’t be late for. 

“Hooooooooh boy. Maybe I’m going crazy not being able to say dumb shit on Twitter or something,” Silas breathed in relief. Shaking his head, he continued forward for twenty, maybe thirty minutes cresting over the small hill he had been steadily surmounting. As he did, an all-too-familiar navy blue tent came into view. Then a garishly purple one, a muted sort of beige, and an awful neon affair. If one had to take a local’s view on it, it’d be something along the lines of “goddamn city-slickers who mock camo even when used in an appropriate setting.”

Maybe. But they were his city-slickers. 

Abandoning common sense, Silas broke into a light jog. Slinging his massive backpack off his shoulder and holding it forward to act as a sort of counterbalance, Silas hurtled towards the camp. His speed proved too much to handle, though and eventually he outran himself, tripping over his own legs to  end his descent in a most majestic tumble-and-dive maneuver. Laying on his back, Silas’ mud-streaked mop of blonde hair partially covered his face, and it was all he could do to suppress a giggle as everyone in the camp ran to see just what the hell had happened. Six faces crowded around him, and they all seemed deeply concerned before Silas’ laughter proved infectious, and all seven began to laugh together. Just like old times. 

“Haha, ah, hey guys.”

“Hey, Sly-ass. Catching some Z’s already?”

“S-somethin’ like that, Captain Crunch.” 

Charles smiled down at him, a cast-iron pan in his left hand and a serving fork in the right. Without missing a beat, Charles speared a freshly-roasted sausage link and held it above Silas’ mouth. Leaning up just enough to snatch a bite, Silas rest his head on the damp forest floor, seemingly at peace as he chewed the fatty meat.

Yeah, this is what he needed. This kind of trip was the one that changed your life.