A/N: Just a little muse that came to me all in one instant. While many can argue that Richtofen is more of a Doctor Frankenstein than a Monster, I can argue the contrary. (; I really wanted to capture some of that guttural charm Richtofen had way, way back in Shi No Numa; in the end, I think I fell a quite short. This is really not my best piece, but I hope you still find enjoyment in it.
He blossomed out from the heart of the Reich, bloody as a newborn, all his dirty gut-wrenching glory bursting up from its very bones. A filthy Frankenstein's freak with a smile that stretched so wide it should... Bleed.
His blood slithered in his veins when he first bubbled up into being – a sultry, wicked thought crawling out of the depths of a twisted mind; soaked numb with sin, slippery and red hot with cruelty. Every inch of him had been alive, from the fat membranes of his mind to the thin fingers sprouting from each knuckle. His whole body throbbed like a heart, buzzed like a saw. He was much more beast or machine than human in a beautiful way.
Impulse and instinct fueled his thoughts and filled his soul, pushed him to the very boundaries of himself. It had always been the same, animalistic fever that had sent him reeling over the edges of his sanity and into the bloody Wonderland he so much enjoyed, surrounded by the rotten faces of his "children" or his "minions". Mistakenly, he had always thought he was turning the cogs in his brain, pulling the strings of his own puppet. He had made the mistake of believing he had ever been more of a Doctor Frankenstein than a Monster.
It was his instinct to kill, his purpose, and his hands were never meant for anything else. Sometimes, when he is alone with his thoughts, he wonders if he had ever really been a 'doctor' at all.
And so he burrows deep into the guts of The Giant, mad with his instinct – a dry and eternally pulsing ache that rapes his body of all thought and reason. His fetishes swallow him and he longs to live there inside them forever, drinking of his lusty, poisonous fantasy with wild abandon; gluttoning himself until he is deliciously nauseated to the bone. He longs to peel the life from the world like fruit, to crush its tender core under the sadistic swagger of his footsteps, and to make the world dance along to the distorted melody that is his tune.
The Giant is rising. He will bring it down.
The Reich's little Frankenstein longs to teach the world what it is to be a freak.
Richtofen is ALIVE.