Worms 1

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hello, i’m nick! i’m an ftm man born and raised in nyc, and my favorite art topics are ultraviolence, body horror, decomp, and general gross crap that isn’t appropriate to talk about with your dad at the dinner table. at the moment, you can catch me on twitter or on my art tumblr.

i feel like the exploration of graphic horror has helped me to understand this concept of life – both mine and my loved ones’ – being something fragile, where everything can change in an instant, and so it’s important for me to be honest with myself every day and try to live life fully. horror, therefore, was sort of the jumping off point for my transitioning journey, in that i wanted further honesty with myself and my identity. the acceptance of death, gore, violence etc. has helped me to accept myself as i am in life and reminded me to count my blessings.

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Scrawling

By:  Emilie V Sovis

I – The Parchment

         The silence drives me to desperation. I am here in the dark, with little left of life but a desire to end the madness. Here is my final hope, my last call into the darkness that crawls ever closer to me. This is my recollection and record of the nightmare that has beset us all, and left us, far from one another, alone and quaking.

My skin has taken upon it a pallor like that of the grave. My eyes, peeled wide from staring into darkness have gathered beneath them bags of tired blood and weakened plasma, the children of my rampant insomnia. My hair is filthy; my skin is made-up with the dust of these long dead passages. My fingers are cut and callused and my nails are but brittle, receding refugees of cracked cartilage. I have not the beauty I once did. I have become a rotten ghost, a pitiful creature, and a terror to the eyes, but nothing compared to what moves in the darkness around me.

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Devilbabes n Jawboys

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Hi! I’m Francine Queen, or Witnesstheabsurd on tumblr and Personfaces on twitter! I was invited to produce a piece for Genderterror and couldn’t be more happy to contribute – the inherent beauty of “monstrosity” or the grotesque has been an intrinsic element of my work for the full span of my career and likely, always will be. A couple of years back I came up with an archetypal design that resonated w some of what I appreciated in both human and monster bodies – the “Jawboy” – impeccably sculpted muscles, long talons, and most importantly, a vats pair of eyeless, slavering jaws hiding kitchen knife fangs. I revisited a similar concept for the Genderterror piece, but this time opted to remove facial features entirely, instead focusing on a long coiling pair of horns. Crucially, the face is blank barring a series of bloody marks, potentially wounds, potentially self-inflicted- I wanted to create a character whose identity was self-created, whose identity might appear inexplicable or horrific to an onlooker – something that drew parallels with my own womanhood, being trans and queer. I hope you enjoy the work and i’m looking forwards to potentially appearing again here soon! I’m available to commission at witnesstheabsurd@hotmail.com, as well.

(Fyi this is how she kisses )

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All The Hungry Ghosts

Wait to be consumed.

Emile’s apartment is stripped down. You were supposed to meet him this morning for burgers, so you could talk about the latest news of the of the condemned hospital down the street. He never showed up, and now he’s missing. Every trace of him is gone, all but for papers scrawled with nonsense strings, littered around his bedroom walls and floor. His computer monitor is covered in bad video card static, and you can’t get it to shut down.

The cops have nothing to say that can comfort you. You take his jacket to have something to remember him by in case you never see him again. It’s purple, and thick and warm, and you always kind of wanted it anyway. You walk home.
A

The walk is uneventful, and the cool autumn air is the kind that makes you feel thoughtful. You think about Emile, and all the weird papers on his walls. Emile was a pretty oddball sort of guy, just the type you’d get along with, but he wasn’t the sort to just up and disappear. At least you don’t think so.The Mind is Meat and Water.

You try to think back to the last time you saw him, but all you can really recall are the papers. How they’d been neatly stacked by his desk, as he talked to you about a new project. He wanted to start an ectoplasm collection, and you were both supposed to do some research on the condemned hospital down the street over its viability for an ectoplasmic farm. You and Emile both love that kind of stuff. Creepy Slime is only one of several schemes Emile has hatched that has kept you both occupied long enough to stave off feelings that you may not belong on planet Earth.

And now he’s missing. Show Yourself.

 

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Smiles and Lies

A poem about struggling with one’s inner self.

This piece was originally written in 2010, before I transitioned. The piece remains in its original format.

Hiding
Hiding
Suppressing
Suppressing

No matter what
It won’t stop
It won’t go away

No matter how hard I try
He stays and he stays
Digging and clawing

He begs and he begs
He whispers into my ears
and fills my dreams

Without him I am nothing
But he is not all of me
Acceptance is mutual

My dark passenger
Such a love-hate
He is all that is
And is all that I am

Yet he is not what they see
Nor will he ever be
Forever hidden
Behind a lie and a smile

Bullshit bullshit they cry
but they do not know
know one ever knows

people wonder why they never know
because it is always hidden behind
a smile and a lie

a monster can dream
and a monster can fear
but a monster will always lie

Always hidden behind a smile and a lie
always in the shadows
of your mind
of my mind

he whispers and speaks
and I gladly listen
for a monster’s plan is always
quite pleasant

for his dreams and his schemes
for his nightmares and his lusts
I am held captive

for I am the monster
who smiles and lies
who hides behind the clever disguise

the one you never suspected
was capable of anything
quite like the monsters

dreams and schemes
smiles and lies
we all hide behind

smiles and lies
smiles and lies

without them we are nothing
no where to hide no where to run
but we will always exist

they never see us
because our dreams and schemes
are all hidden behind
smiles and lies

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Sunflower Blood

Delilah would do anything to see her sister again, even if it means walking into a strange and dangerous world.

Trigger/Content Warning: Sexual Assault

She saw the boys surrounding her sister. She saw her sister’s face bloody and beaten. She saw bruises covering her arms. And then she heard her scream. One of the boys dropped down in front of her, knife in hand. He spread open her legs.

And then Delilah shot up in bed, the heat from the sun already beating down heavily upon her forehead. Fear found its way into her sweat. It dripped into her eye and made her jump. She rushed over to the phone to call her best friend.

#

Dante reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of pink-rimmed glasses, handing them to Delilah. He smiled.

“I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of, D. You think I’d let you get hurt?”

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Going Home

Alexander heard one word inside himself over all the pain and guilt and uncertainty. One simple word, a name he’d since forgotten. Joshua.

There was nothing left aside from the void of absolute nothingness. It had all faded away to black. The rust, the blood, tears and muck, had all slid away like sewage down a storm drain. It was all gone save for Alexander, left alone on the frigid floor to question and cry foul for the rest of what may as well become eternity. What happened to it all? To the quiet evil and lumbering oppressive heat all around him, the murky blackness taken tangible form. What brought him to this moment of utter and definitive nothingness?

Nowhere as a concept always comes across in an abstract or even in most cases strictly metaphorical way, and yet that’s where he was. The physical space no better described than the simple noun of ”Nowhere.” Darkness stretches out in every visible direction with no foreseeable end to its emptiness, not that Alexander was going anywhere. His body felt heavy, weighed down by the hopelessness of sitting in the middle of expansive nothingness. He couldn’t even remember how long he’d been sitting there in the dark, if there even was a before making this supposed afterward. The only thing remaining inside him beyond the hopelessness was a virulent feeling of guilt, the knowledge of doing wrong without recalling what it was. It was at constant odds with the hopelessness within, trying to push him out of utter apathy and into self loathing bitterness. His mind felt split in two pulling itself perpetually back and forth.

Then the light came. The nothingness was purged by its introduction, swiftly whisked away in an unbridled fury. Alexander thought he felt the weight lifting off of his being, but it was still there burrowing deeper inside as he was carried up by the light into its brilliance. There was no safety nor security in this brilliance, just uncertainty. It became it’s own brand of nothingness stretching upward instead of outward, pulling him into the light. He wondered if this was his absolution at last, a merciful hand outstretched freeing him from the pain of uncertain guilt and hopeless apathy. He was wrong.

The light disappeared as swiftly as it came, taking Alexander’s newfound hope with it. He laid outstretched on a cold surface akin to the one he sat on before, his appendages bound and secured by an unseen force beyond his recognition or understanding. He had found yet another nothingness filling him with the toxic uncertainty, only left to obsess over his equally uncertain guilt. Alexander feared this new nothingness, but this fear was short-lived and replaced with pain. The pain began and never ceased. Every nerve ending of every corner of every section of every part of his body screamed, never in unison but at countless unpredictable intervals. There was no more apathy nor uncertainty, only the pain. The pain and the guilt buried within, clawing at his insides as furiously as the pain did his outsides. At what seemed like the peak of it all, the culmination of physical and metaphorical pains twisting his body and mind beyond their respective limits, he had an epiphany. Alexander heard one word inside himself over all the pain and guilt and uncertainty. One simple word, a name he’d since forgotten. Joshua.

And with that remembrance came his true absolution, Alexander’s liberation from this hellish nothingness of pain. Fury, his only weapon and only option. Pulling himself free from his invisible restraints, Alexander makes out blurred grey figures swarming around him. The figures shout and converse in a seemingly unintelligible way, as if they all spoke a language he did not. Instead he heard the name chanting in his head, Joshua, Joshua, Joshua, Joshua. He raised his fist to the air as his true weapon manifested. His guilt and pain processed into physical form, an unyielding slab born of his hopelessness. Alexander swung the slab without effort, cleaving through the small varied figures, their chattering replaced with sounds of terror. More and more figures came and more and more were cut down by Alexander’s newfound fury. Still he heard the name in his head, louder and louder the more it repeated.

Then the light returned, pushing and pulling against him. He struggled to maintain his footing as he slashed and swung wildly all around him, figures now scattering in attempts at escape. Within the light around him came a hole, a hole to something else. Something that felt strangely familiar. Before long he felt himself being pulled towards the hole with incredible force, his footing swept out from beneath him. He resigned himself to this force, no longer holding onto the fear of hopeless uncertainty, barreling toward whatever laid beyond. A manic smile spread across his face.

The hole passed and Alexander continued forward, a burning sensation building all over his body. The flames felt like pin pricks compared to the pain of the table, only spurring him forward towards familiarity. As the flames grew his remaining uncertain worry waned, releasing him from all that held him back. The pulling force turned to plummeting as Alexander realized what this familiarity was. He wasn’t just being drawn back through the hole, he was falling back to the depths he once sat in. The frozen floor replaced with scalding steel surface, the blackness given way to the oppressive heat once again. He collided with the surface leaving a scar in the space of his re-entry. The blood and rust had returned filling Alexander with the heat of his newfound purpose. He screamed toward whence he came the name he had so fervently chanted inside his mind.

Alexander pulled himself up within the smoking crater, emerging from the scar reborn. Steam hissed and gears groaned as he marched forward, dragging the ferocious slab behind him as he went. To most it would sound as tho nails were scraping against steel but to him it was clarity given audibility. With this and the myriad of other sounds following and guiding him as he marched he felt more and more sure of his newfound purpose. No longer shackled metaphorically nor physically, Alexander found joy in it, this purpose.

The way he saw it, They did this to them. It was They who cast them aside as if they were trash. It was They who tried to erase him, to purge him and those who mattered. It was only right They suffer as well, and who better to deliver said suffering other than he?

So onward he marched, jubilant and focused. Ready to inflict on Them every monstrous act he had endured. He had found bliss in this state, this twisted notion of right born from unparalleled abuse at the hands of the monstrous.

Alexander was home.

***

BlaineProfile

Blaine is a 25 y.o. Non-Binary/Trans Gender-Fluid writer who loves all kinds of media, especially video games and cartoons.

 

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Monsters Of Our Own: Monster Symbolism in the Trans Community

For some in the trans community, monsters represent a deep personal connection with the other and inhuman.

“Scary monsters, super creeps
Keep me running, running scared
Scary monsters, super creeps
Keep me running, running scared” –David Bowie, Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps)

 

Grotesque. Violent. Terrifying. Misunderstood. Sympathetic. These are some words people use to describe monsters, depending on who you are asking and what the monster is. People’s perception of monsters and their existence is ever changing. Monsters often take the shape of the times, evolving to show the current fears and terrors of the world they come to life in. Frankenstein’s monster is much different than the slashers of modern age. The werewolf from an American Werewolf in London may share similarities with the teenagers of Ginger Snaps, but their raison d’être is quite different.

Stephen T. Asma, in his book On Monsters, describes monsters as “extraordinary beings”.  Monsters encompass everything from phobias, to societal woes. They are both unimaginable and plausible. They encompass both the inhuman and human. Monsters are both literal and symbolic. The idea of a monster goes from one pole to the other, captivating and horrifying us. Society holds a very love-hate relationship with monsters and their attractive natures.

This duality of monsters, their appeal on a physical, psychological, cultural, and emotional level speaks to people. Monsters are seen across ages, across time, across the globe. However, the meaning of monsters for people are as varied as the monsters themselves. Even the same monster can mean different things to different people, all based on cultural and personal factors. For some people, monsters hold a deep connection to their very identity and how they see themselves and the world.

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SOMA: A Trans-Simon Experience

This piece will talk about story spoilers and various other game spoilers for SOMA. I suggest playing the game yourself or watching an LP of the game before reading this piece. You can also look over the SOMA wikia to inform yourself of the story and key events. Without this game/story knowledge, this piece may be confusing.

—SOMA SPOILERS BELOW—

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SOMA: The WAU, the Monsters, and You.

I recently finished SOMA and have a lot to say about the sound design and even more to say about the evolution of the monsters throughout the story and the WAU’s involvement in it. This piece will be loaded with SOMA spoilers so if you have no finished the game or at least watched a playthrough, I urge you to do that before even going past the spoiler line. There are story spoilers abound, you’ve been warned.

—–SOMA STORY SPOILERS BELOW—–

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Dysphoric Reality

TW: Suicide (potentially), dysphoria

People talk about dysphoria as if its a monster. This looming beast who lurches over us, slowly pressing its weight into our bodies. This creature that lurks around every corner, in every shadow. This Blood Mary who waits in our mirrors to strike if we dare to catch a glimpse. Dysphoria is described as dark and monstrous, something ready to rip out hearts and minds out the moment we dare to acknowledge it, feeding on the small triumphs to bring us back down. Those watchful eyes that never leave, that phantom breath down our necks.

What if I were to tell you that for some, dysphoria really is a monster. It really is a creature lurking in the shadows, sucking on happiness and leaving a hollow shell. What if I were to tell you that it may kill me soon and is just waiting for the right moment to strike with blade sharp fangs and claws? If the hushed ways we speak of these feelings manifests. It twists. It warps. It becomes real. Welcome to my world. I do not only have to deal with dysphoria, I have to live with it.

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