WOLFMAN.

a wolf and a man ,

[talbite]

even     a     man     who's     pure     of     heart     and     says     his     prayers     by     night     may     𝖇𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊     𝖆     𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋     when     the     wolfbane    blooms     and     the     moon     is     full     and     bright   !

an      extremely      private      (   mutuals   -   only   )      blog      for     a     re   -   imagined     lawrence     talbot     of      universal     pictures’     the     wolf     man.        triggering     themes     ahead.        strictly     21+.  

CARRD.     MEMES.     PLOTTING CALL.

[notmorbid]

moon and the mars.

dialogue prompts from moon and the mars by kia corthron.

talking to yourself again?

we don’t need good. we need quiet.

where were you? before?

love your neighbor, but don’t let ‘em swindle you.

you sure got the gift of gab.

thank you for your all-important wisdom.

who would want to come live here?

you know what else is thicker than water? mud.

i like to pray by myself.

how come you’re standing in the rain?

the rich aren’t used to being inconvenienced.

the haves are afraid of becoming a ‘have less’.

i could go without your cheekiness.

our job is to survive, first.

luck, and milk, both eventually go bad.

you’re old enough to keep a secret.

i know a scarier story.

the way the world is, i think anyone not blind or evil must be a little crazy.

there’s only one way to win in this world: beat them at their own game.

you are the grandest medicine to start the day.

i don’t want anyone to see me like this.

i thought things were getting better. i’d convinced myself.

we must not despair, but demand repair.

i’m not impulsive, i’m decisive.

when we bring our minds and spirits together, we are a powerful force.

do you have everything you need?

you’re worth your weight in gold.

shame is a heavy load for someone so small.

whoever comes back from war calm and content, they’re the mad ones.

don’t spread ugly rumors, even if they are true.

be as harsh as truth, and as uncompromising as justice.

you don’t need to be blood-related to be family.

i’ve kept you waiting long enough.

there’s easier ways to get through life than letting people know all your business.

death in war is not tidy and dignified, but macabre and ugly.

that’s what growing up is: scars that scab, but don’t ever really heal.

you look more like ____ every time i see you.

if you wanted me to have the information, you would have given it to me.

love is blind, and blind is dangerous.

i was there all the time. with you.

i was pretty shocked to get your letter, out of the blue.

let me go ahead and tell you, i’ll be very angry if you say you’re sorry. i’m not sorry.

were you ever mended? ever whole?

i thought it might be a nice day to see my old friend.

you’re two heads smarter than everybody else. you always were.

[morticane]

‘   do you see those claw marks?   ’         the attic is her husband’s pride and joy   :       there is love welcomed into every inch of this beast       (        antique torture devices are scattered across the floor,    each one oiled to perfection      –      the crowning jewel was a chair in the middle of the room,   on a slightly raised platform,   a crank hidden away at the side        …          one pull and it would slice the poor,   unsuspecting person in half       ).       she does not point at the chair,   however.    a pale finger extends ever outwards,      pointing just above the windows,    where deep welts bruised the wallpaper’s lavender skin.     SHE HOLDS A GLASS OF WINTER WINE,    BLACKENED WITH A FEW DROPS OF SOMETHING SHE’D RATHER KEEP SECRET.     when she smiles,   it is a cold thing   :       she does not invite.          ‘   guess how they got there.   ’       @talbite

[talbite]

 this     place     does     not     welcome     life.     death     is     etched     into     the     very     marrow     of     its     bones     …     MONSTER     KNOWS     MONSTER.     the     blood   -   and   -   metal     pain   -   creatures     that     make     their     home     here     loom     out     of     the     shadows,     seek     the     warm     embrace     of     flesh.     ‘   oh,     what     the     hell     is     this,     some     kind     of     torture     chamber?   ’     monster     knows     monster   :     claw   -   writing     on     the     wall,     an     ode     to     imprisonment.     ‘   do     you     keep     animals     locked     away     in     here?   ’     the     woman     beside     him     cloaks     herself     in     the     night,     a     mother     of     terror     and     of     wolf     pups     with     blood     and     milk     smeared     upon     their     maws.     here     among     the     horrors     woven     into     the     eaves,     among     those     who     understand     what     a     beast     can     be,     both     man     and     wolf     are     home. 

[metamorquoth]

my very old photo (2008) by ~mala-lesbia

[unwomanly-deactivated20201108]

Sylvia Plath, “The Unabridged Journals”

[ilkroman-deactivated20220219]

[hiddeninthestars]

[feverdreamsuggestion]

You wake up. You smell blood. You wake up. You smell blood. You wake up.

[talbite]

cutfoot​:

SINGULARITY   :      lawrence gordon existed without plural,   growing into the sweetness of loneliness      (      one,   one,   one      ).      he tells himself      …      there’s no one like me.      he tells himself      …       the few that understand me are murderers and criminals,   existing beneath the crest of respectable society.     larry,   a mockery of his own name,   does not prowl through the lower echelons      –      he is malformed and ill - equipped for the world,    bumbling through sentences with an open incompetence      (      lawrence is being cruel,   but there’s merely because he doesn’t know how to be anything else   :      his face is caught in a constant sneer,    his eyes bagged with lavender marks of restless nights      …      we’re not alike,   lawrence says,   and it isn’t a question,   it isn’t a statement to be refuted      –      it’s a prophet’s will      ).        ‘   i believe your idea of a trap and mine are very different.    i wasn’t stumbling drunk through some forest.   ’       he leans his weight uncomfortably against his cane,     the attention towards his leg bringing a burning pressure along the edge of his skin.   bone upon bone upon bone,    he stacks himself up on muscle and sinew,    pretending that the human body wasn’t frail.

POINT OF VIEW WAS VARIABLE.    of course he sees things differently now      (      his foot,   the trap,   the mercurial nature of his own body      ).      ‘   oh,  yes,  i do.   just like i imagine the world has vastly change for you      …       since your leg was once caught in a trap.   which you escaped   :      in one piece.   ’

WILDERNESS     OF     THE     MIND     /     WILDNESS     OF     THE     BODY     ———     even     marked     by     trap   -   tooth     scars,     even     broken   -   boned     and     shedding     the     only     skin     he     knows,     larry     stands.     this     sickness     that’s     settled     in     his     blood     is     not     the     funeral     march     of     the     ailing     or     the     infirm   ;     HOT     BLOOD     STILL     POUNDS     THROUGH     A     HEART     THAT’S     SEEN     TOO     MUCH,     angry     muscles     tense     under     brute   -   borrowed     skin.     ‘   hey,     now     ———     what     the     hell     kind     of     man     do     you     think     i     am?     call     me     crazy     if     you     want     ———     that     might     well     be     true,     but     i’m     not     a     drunk.     …     and     i     didn’t     get     out     in     one     piece.   ’    

THE     WEIGHT     OF     HIS     GROWL     IS     A     PHYSICAL     THING,     a     rumble     that     stirs     and     shakes     deep     in     his     chest.     no     matter     what     beast     he     has     become     [   …   ]     no     matter     how     worthy     of     scorn,     HE     IS     NOT     ONE     WHO     TAKES     EASILY     TO     SCORN.     what     has     a     man     but     his     reputation     [   …   ]     is     he     not     at     least     half     a     man   ?     ‘   there’s     more     to     it     than     that.     i     thought     you     would     understand     …     lawrence.   ’     far     apart     from     a     foolish     caricature     of     humanity,     he     scrabbles     for     it     [   …   ]     a     desperate     hodgepodge     of     manners     and     misery.     LAWRENCE     S.     TALBOT   :     is     he     nothing     more     than     an     animal     in     a     silk     suit   ?     that     same     name     is     a     bile   -   tainted     plea   :     an     appeal     to     the     doctor’s     better     side,     but     even     for     education     and     affected     sophistication,     SOME     MEN     HAVE     A     BARREN     STRETCH     WHERE     THE     SOFTNESS     OF     THE     SOUL     SHOULD     LIE.     wolfmen     alone     do     not     lay     claim     to     a     lack     of     compassion.

[discovercore]

[talbite]

𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋   ?     what’s     that   ?     [   …   ]     you     mean,     runs     around     on     all     fours,     and     bites,     and     snaps,     and     bays     at     the     moon   ?

#TALBITE   :     an     independent     and     selective     modern     re   -   imagining     of     THE     WOLF     MAN,     by     spider.

[swagg-club]

stop asking me “wyd” i am literally at home losing my mind

[talbite]

slashre​:

THEY ARE BODIES INSIDE BODIES INSIDE BODIES.     they are bodies without bodies without flesh without life without humanity      /       they are one body and twelve bodies,   they exist in fractions and in the horrid tangle of too much,  son,  too much.     they had been rules for his body   :       INSTRUCTION MANUALS WERE STOLEN        (          his father   /   his creator   /   the monster who made him a monster         …          he had not thought to gift his son anything but a sewn together body and an open palm of closed issues       ).       he cuts the sandwich irregularly,    scarred palm shivering around the edge of the knife.     BLADES WERE TERRIBLE CREATURES   :       he is worried that,   merely by virtue of holding the weapon,     he will be forced into violence.    it is not in his nature       –       BUT OTHERS SUPPOSE HIS NATURE,   SECOND - GUESS HIM INTO BRUTALITY.     they see a brute in skin that is meant for a scholar       (        his handsomeness is uncanny,    a thousand handsomenesses knitted into one face       ).         ‘   yes.   ’       he slices the sandwich again,   into eight shoddy pieces,    shaking hand forcing the lands into jagged slits.       ‘   eat.   ’

EAT.     a     mouth     filled     with     teeth     /     a     mouth     filled     with     blood.     cognizant,     man     and     aware     of     it     [   …   ]     this     remembered     taste     of     death     ought     to     turn     the     stomach.     there     is     a     grave     he’s     unwilling     to     dig     up   :     that     perennial     hunger     stirs     with     the     ascent     of     the     moon,     all     moral     sense     lost     to     the     howl     and     the     wind.     THE     END     /     TO     BE     CONTINUED     [   …   ]     the     man     begs     for     death   ;     the     beast     insists     upon     its     own     immortality.     both     cannot     be     appeased   :     BOTH,     THEN,     ARE     MISERABLE.

a     kicked     dog     might     look     more     eager   ;     larry     takes     the     seat     at     the     head     of     his     own     table     with     a     resigned     unease.     EAT.     he     bites     and     chews     and     swallows.     the     food     is     as     tasteless     to     him     as     his     own     whims.     (   i     can’t     help     myself   !   )     the     trembling     effort     of     his     guest’s     unbelonging     hands     goes     unappreciated     to     a     man     used     to     more     [   …   ]     getting     used     to     less.     BODY     IS     A     BETRAYAL   :     tragedy     is     as     much     in     his     blood     as     the     name     talbot.     ‘   what     is     it     that     you’re     doing     here,     really?     besides     eating     my     cheese?   ’

[le-immorte]

[classicfilmblr]

The Wolf Man (1941) dir. George Waggner

[le-immorte]

[talbite]

@cutfoot​   :     things would be so much easier if we were honest with each other.

‘   well,     i’m     not     a     liar.   ’     he     dreams     of     blood     and     teeth.     LYCANTHROPIA   :     a     delusion     that     one     has     become     a     wolf.     (   [   …   ]     might     imagine     that     he’s     anything     [   …   ]     your     son     is     a     sick     man.   )     round     and     about     his     finger     he     twists     his   father’s     signet     ring   ;     there,     a     wolf     leers     up     at     him,     snarl   -   smile     mocking.     THERE     IS     SOME     DISEASE     THAT’S     TAKEN     ROOT     IN     HIM   :     mind     or     body,     it     makes     no     matter     ———     he     is     honest,     and     he     is     scared.     

‘   what     about     you?   ’     all     these     doctors,     all     this     doubt   :     gordon,     finding     no     tumour     or     abnormal     behaviour     of     the     frontal     lobe,     has     branded     him     a     LIAR     /     LUNATIC.     again     and     again     he     turns     up     disbelief     and     sneers     [   …   ]     ON     AND     ON,     until     he     dies,     or     doesn’t.