#he likes them cause they taste like the ocean and acid rain and his tears

[butterflyinthewell]

I got an urge to get into Monsterverse Godzilla’s head, sooooo here’s a short fic.

.o

Song of the Tiny Ones

.o

Time flowed through the monumental place of lava and heat like water. The old leviathan rested atop his stone platform, his battered form listless after the terrible bubbles took the breath from his gills. Breathing air wasn’t much better, it ripped acidic heat down his throat. He still tasted the metallic blood he coughed up before he collapsed. This place always restored his Fire, so he wheezed and heaved until his lungs moved air smoothly.

A disturbance prompted him to force his tired eyelids open in the glowing orange inferno. The Tiny One extended a hand and raised its eyes to his in supplication. Its face wore the worship he remembered before time swallowed its species’ Song.

Behind the Tiny One was an Offering. He couldn’t recall the last time the Tiny Ones brought forth an Offering. They placed it down and left, for they fell ill and perished if they remained.

This Tiny One didn’t leave. It was already dying, the leviathan realized, and it chose to spend its last moments with him. He focused his eyes and ears and listened to its soft murmurings.

Its language meant nothing to him, but the Song sung by its life, the forgotten Song of its species, cried out to him in need. He heard the kind intention of its Offering and rumbled his acceptance.

Tears welled in the Tiny One’s eyes. It smiled.

And everything went blinding white.

The Tiny One’s existence winked out in an instant, leaving a vacuum. Its atoms merged into his flesh and new Fire surged through his cells. He inhaled its Spirit as everything around him blew away in the tsunami of light. Water flowed into the brilliance where a noble Sacrifice had taken place. His gills flared open, hungry for life.

He was reborn!

He pushed off the seafloor with renewed vigor. The Tiny One’s Song rang in his heartbeat as he surfaced and exhaled its Spirit into the sky. Its life mattered, it died an honorable death, so he roared a Song of Light to send its Spirit heavenward.

His lungs emptied completely. He inhaled and exhaled again for the sheer joy of breathing. Rain blurred his eyes and tickled his snout. The sizzling ocean churned against his bulk. Salty sea foam clung to his claws. He relaxed and looked down.

Tiny Ones stood together on a floating vessel, gawking up at him. Their combined Song was an atonal clamor of anguish, awe, fear...and grief for the loss of their own.

The ancient leviathan bent closer to them. He breathed in. Their faces and colors were different, but their scent matched the Tiny One who gave its life for him.

The Tiny One in the front of the others had a storm in its eyes that stilled when their gazes met. He sniffed again and their discordant Song unified into the same plea.

Time caused the Tiny Ones to forget. Their lives flared and vanished like stars at sunrise. Generations painted over them as they fell further and further away from the Song. They built their monuments and statues, lost them to time and found them again many seasons after the builders became bone dust in the soil.

Their distant ancestors built this world with their sweat and breath. They wanted the Golden One gone because they feared him. They knew the Golden One’s false Song didn’t belong with the Music of the Earth. And yet, here they were, remembering it all over again-- remembering him all over again.

Perhaps their power came from that.

Not all of the Tiny Ones were worthy, but these Tiny Ones deemed themselves worth saving, and that was good enough for him to save them all.

The ancient leviathan turned away and dove through the depths. He knew where the Golden One went, and the Tiny Ones wanted to fight alongside him. Their presence was almost inconsequential. He welcomed it anyway. They deserved to bear witness when he devoured the Golden One and reclaimed his place as the rightful King.

[yesloverboy]

Trip of a Lifetime (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader)

Requested: Anon! 

“Could you do a story about tommy and the reader dropping acid and whatever they do on it is up to u😂 I think it'd be really cute and funny”

Note: I am sorry this is so late! I may have gotten a little carried away, but I wanted to make sure I did this prompt justice. It’s definitely been a hot minute since I’ve done psychedelics, but some of these events are inspired by true ones so let me know what you think. Enjoy! 

word count: 2,294

 It all started on a Saturday night. With you and your boyfriend Tommy having such busy schedules, the both of you had decided to take turns planning date nights. The way you figured it, taking turns would prevent one of you from feeling more responsible for maintaining the relationship over the other. So far it seemed to be working out nicely, and this time it was Tommy’s turn.  

 You and Tommy had been together for a few months now, and were still well into your phase of continually trying to impress one another. At this point, Mötley Crüe was really taking off, and you found yourself looking forward to your scheduled dates more and more as Tommy became increasingly less available. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t his fault that he was so preoccupied. There was no doubt in your mind that he and his romantic heart would be willing to move mountains for you; but that didn’t mean being apart never stressed you out. Sometimes you even wished you could slow down time just a little so that you wouldn’t always have to say goodbye to Tommy so soon. When you had told Tommy that, he just laughed and told you he would make it happen if he could. As always, you believed him.

 As you waited for Tommy to return home from his day at the studio, you couldn’t help but fidget in anticipation. When it was Tommy’s turn to plan dates, he always liked them to be a surprise for you. His spontaneous nature and childlike enthusiasm were just a few of his qualities you loved the most, and the dates he picked were a reflection of that. In just a few short months, Tommy had already taken you to more arcades, theme parks, concerts, and spontaneous road trips than you could keep track of. So as anxious as you were to see your boyfriend’s smiling face, you were just as excited to find out what he had in store for you.  

 When Tommy finally opened the door, you practically leapt into his open arms. In true Tommy fashion, he picked you up off the ground and spun you in a circle, eliciting a a chorus of giggles from the both of you.  

 “Well hey there, baby,” he cooed, kissing you gently, “someone sure is happy to see me.”

 You nuzzled his nose lovingly as he placed you back on the ground. “I just missed you is all.” Even though Tommy had put you down, you still felt like you were hovering above the earth, your heart light and carefree.

 “So what’s the plan for the night, rockstar?” You knew rockstar was a cheesy nickname, but the blush that would color Tommy's face made it all worth it. More than anything in the universe, Tommy wanted to play music that the rest of the world loved, and you always knew in your heart that he would do it. 

 “I thought maybe we could go on a little trip,” he smiled wryly, his eyes meeting yours with a mischievousness he normally reserved for inside jokes.

 “Where?” Your arms were still firmly fastened around Tommy’s neck, keeping the space between the two of you to a minimum.

 To your chagrin, Tommy unwrapped his hands from your waist, and reached for the pocket of his leather jacket. “Not that kind of trip, dude,” he said, pulling out a plastic bag, “this kind of trip.”

 You looked at the plastic bag, your face lighting up as you spotted two little squares of paper with skulls printed on them. 

 Acid. 

 You couldn’t believe it. It had been so long since you’d tripped that you almost didn’t remember what it was like. Still you craved an escape, something to take you and Tommy far away without ever having to leave the home you shared. It was perfect.

 “You told me once that you wanted to slow down time,” Tommy continued, “so I thought we might give it a shot.”

 “Oh my god, Tommy!” you squealed, delighted that he had been paying such close attention to how you’d been feeling lately. “I never thought I’d say this, but you might be a genius.” You stood on your tiptoes, gripping the sides of his angular face to kiss plant a kiss on his lips.

 Tommy tried to look offended, but his act quickly dissolved under the smile on his face. “God, do you always have to be so mean?”

 “Isn’t that why you love me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes in mock innocence.

 Tommy just ruffled your hair in response, causing you to groan in protest. “Do you wanna take these for a spin, or what?” he asked, laughing at your irritated pout.  

 “Fine,” you huffed, “hit me.” You stuck out your tongue, signalling Tommy that you were ready to get the night going. This is it, you though, quickly accepting the fact that the two of you would ultimately be housebound for the evening.

 Tommy reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a single tab. With a careful hand, he placed it on the tip of your tongue. Closing your mouth, you let it slowly dissolve. You’re not sure what you expected this time around, but it tasted like nothing just as you remembered. Soon after, Tommy did the same and all that was left was to wait for those little squares of paper to work their magic.

 “Wanna watch a movie? Maybe order a pizza?”

 You smiled up at Tommy, reveling in the fact that so many wonderful things in life could be so simple. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

 It took some bickering, but eventually you and Tommy agreed to put your copy of Halloween in the old VCR. You had been worried that watching a scary movie would trigger a bad trip, but Tommy reassured you that his hilarious commentary would get you through it. You relented, but solely on the condition that he would hold you the entire time.

 About thirty minutes into the movie, you noticed the image on the television began to vibrate softly, the colors pulsating and running together as if they might drip right out of the screen and onto the bedroom floor. You turned your head to look at Tommy to see if he was seeing the same thing, twisting against the hold he had on your body. To your amazement, he wasn’t looking at the screen at all. Instead his eyes were fixed on you.

 You watched carefully as his the blue of his eyes seemed to shift colors, ranging from their usual denim blue to bleeding with vibrant yellows and greens. Even though Tommy’s eyes were locked on yours, it seemed as though he was looking somewhere beyond where you were sitting.

 “Dude,” Tommy whispered, his voice soft and distant, “you’re so beautiful.”

 “No, you,” you argue, the blood in your veins humming with the same softness that crept in and out of the edge of your vision when you looked at Tommy. It was almost as if your body was vibrating softly under his touch, making the rest of the world feel warmer and brighter. In that moment, it was so amazing to you that Tommy could call you beautiful when he was clearly the most mesmerizing thing in the room. It was then you thought that maybe, just maybe you could love him forever.

 Tommy just rolled his eyes, “Oh please, you’re, like, a work of art,” he stated, moving his hands about animatedly, “just like that–wait what’s she called? The Moaning Liza?”

“You mean the Mona Lisa?” you asked, throwing your head back with laughter.

 Playfully, Tommy tried to put one of his large hands over your face to shut you up, but you were able to wrestle out from his grip with happy tears leaking out of your eyes.

 “Oh come on, Y/N! You know I didn’t do well in history.” At this point, Tommy was laughing too. “My point was that you don’t just look like any old work of art– but a priceless one. One that people cross oceans to see.”

 You gazed at your boyfriend lovingly, and firmly believed that the secret to eternal happiness was hiding somewhere behind those beautiful, kaleidoscope eyes. The hum in your body was growing more persistent by the second, and suddenly your head was flooded with a hundred different ideas all at once. However, one stuck out to you over the others and you couldn’t help but wonder if Tommy would be on board with it.

 Getting up abruptly, you made your way over to your bedroom, seeking out an old box of acrylic paints. The paints were leftover from your attempt at being an artist a couple of years ago, and you figured there was no better time to give it a try again than the present.

 You found the box almost immediately as the yellow light from your closet rained down in glowing droplets above your head. The dripping light seemed to lead you right to where the box was nestled, and for a moment you wondered why you thought it’d be so hard to find it in the first place.  

 Strutting back into the living room triumphantly, you held the box of paints securely in your arms. To your amusement, Tommy’s gaze was now transfixed on the ceiling fan above his head, his eyes following the blades closely as they spun.

 “Tommy!” you tapped at his shoulder and immediately he snapped back to reality. “I have an idea.”

 “What is it?” he still had his signature, goofy smile but his eyes were unblinking. You wanted to laugh, but suddenly couldn’t remember the last time you’d blinked either. Realizing it didn’t matter, you set the box of paints in his lap.

 “We shout paint each other! Well, not actually like paint each other, but paint on each other. Sounds fun, right?”

 “Okay, but if we do I’m going first,” Tommy’s happy expression was replaced with a more determined one, “‘cause if you don’t believe you’re a work of art I’m just going to have to make you believe me.”

 Unable to resist, you gave Tommy a peck on the cheek. “Alright, baby. Whatever you say goes.”

 “Where should I start?” Tommy asked, rummaging through the selection of colors. “Your back maybe? I feel like there’s probably more room.”

 You just shrugged and pulled your shirt up and over your head, allowing it to fall limp on the arm of the couch. Grabbing one of the extra cushions, you placed it on the carpeted floor so you could lay comfortably while Tommy set to work.

 “So, what are you going to paint, Mr. Lee?” you asked, laying flat on your stomach. The carpet itched at your bare skin, the fibres swaying back and forth against the pressure of your body.

 Tommy sat beside you with his legs crossed, the box of paints accompanying him at his spot on the floor. “Hmmm, can’t tell ya. It’s a secret.”

 “Fine then,” you smile, “have it your way.”

 Without warning, Tommy squirted a few drops of paint straight from the tube and onto your bare back. “Fuck, that’s cold!” you hiss, squirming uncomfortably against the rough carpet.

 “It’ll be worth it, dude. Promise.” Tommy chuckled softly, adding more drops of paint from various bottles to the canvas of your body. 

 After a while, you were surprised to find that the cold from the paint was soothing the buzz of your body high quite a bit. The ebb and flow of Tommy working the paint into patterns on your back sent tingles of electricity from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.

 Tommy didn’t talk much while he painted, apparently putting all of his concentration into whatever he was creating. Even though you couldn’t see his face while laying down, you’d be willing to bet he looked just as deep in focus painting as he did while writing a song. You couldn’t help but hum happily, feeling more than content just being alone with Tommy.

 Evidently, Tommy had noticed your level of relaxation and laughed quietly to himself.

 “What’s funny?” you ask, wanting so desperately to know what was going on in Tommy’s head during his trip.

 “Nothing,” the smile in Tommy’s voice was obvious, even if you couldn't see it, “it’s just– do you ever think about how crazy this all is?”

 “How crazy what is?”

 “This.” he insisted, “the fact that, of all the people in the world, and of all the time that’s passed...we got to meet. Just you and me, and the rest of the world.”

 Your mouth fell open in awe, unable to believe the love and passion that radiated from Tommy’s words.

Just you and me, and the rest of the world.

 Tommy’s profound observation flashed bright red in your mind, glittering against the backs of your eyelids like the Las Vegas strip at nighttime.

 “I think I’m going to say it,” Tommy continued, unphased by your moment of silence, “You’re the love of my life. No matter if it’s this life, or the next one–or maybe even the one after that. If there is one, I think it’s always going to be you.”

 The tenderness in Tommy’s voice hung in the air with all the softness of a passing cloud. Even though you knew that the both of you were tripping, no amount of chemicals could alter the way you felt about Tommy in that moment.  

 “You’re the love of my life, too” you repeat back, meaning every single word of it, “I don’t ever want to be anywhere if it’s not with you. Loving you is the trip of a lifetime.”

Masterlist

[butterflyinthewell]

Happy Kaijune!

Time flowed through the monumental place of lava and heat like water. The old leviathan rested atop his stone platform, his battered form listless after the terrible bubbles took the breath from his gills. Breathing air wasn’t much better, it ripped acidic heat down his throat. He still tasted the metallic blood he coughed up before he collapsed. This place always restored his Fire, so he wheezed and heaved until his lungs moved air smoothly.

A disturbance prompted him to force his tired eyelids open in the glowing orange inferno. The Tiny One extended a hand and raised its eyes to his in supplication. Its face wore the worship he remembered before time swallowed its species’ Song.

Behind the Tiny One was an Offering. He couldn’t recall the last time the Tiny Ones brought forth an Offering. They placed it down and left, for they fell ill and perished if they remained.

This Tiny One didn’t leave. It was already dying, the leviathan realized, and it chose to spend its last moments with him. He focused his eyes and ears and listened to its soft murmurings.

Its language meant nothing to him, but the Song sung by its life, the forgotten Song of its species, cried out to him in need. He heard the kind intention of its Offering and rumbled his acceptance.

Tears welled in the Tiny One’s eyes. It smiled.

And everything went blinding white.

The Tiny One’s existence winked out in an instant, leaving a vacuum. Its atoms merged into his flesh and new Fire surged through his cells. He inhaled its Spirit as everything around him blew away in the tsunami of light. Water flowed into the brilliance where a noble Sacrifice had taken place. His gills flared open, hungry for life.

He was reborn!

He pushed off the seafloor with renewed vigor. The Tiny One’s Song rang in his heartbeat as he surfaced and exhaled its Spirit into the sky. Its life mattered, it died an honorable death, so he roared a Song of Light to send its Spirit heavenward.

His lungs emptied completely. He inhaled and exhaled again for the sheer joy of breathing. Rain blurred his eyes and tickled his snout. The sizzling ocean churned against his bulk. Salty sea foam clung to his claws. He relaxed and looked down.

Tiny Ones stood together on a floating vessel, gawking up at him. Their combined Song was an atonal clamor of anguish, awe, fear...and grief for the loss of their own.

The ancient leviathan bent closer to them. He breathed in. Their faces and colors were different, but their scent matched the Tiny One who gave its life for him.

The Tiny One in the front of the others had a storm in its eyes that stilled when their gazes met. He sniffed again and their discordant Song unified into the same plea.

Time caused the Tiny Ones to forget. Their lives flared and vanished like stars at sunrise. Generations painted over them as they fell further and further away from the Song. They built their monuments and statues, lost them to time and found them again many seasons after the builders became bone dust in the soil.

Their distant ancestors built this world with their sweat and breath. They wanted the Golden One gone because they feared him. They knew the Golden One’s false Song didn’t belong with the Music of the Earth. And yet, here they were, remembering it all over again-- remembering him all over again.

Perhaps their power came from that.

Not all of the Tiny Ones were worthy, but these Tiny Ones deemed themselves worth saving, and that was good enough for him to save them all.

The ancient leviathan turned away and dove through the depths. He knew where the Golden One went, and the Tiny Ones wanted to fight alongside him. Their presence was almost inconsequential. He welcomed it anyway. They deserved to bear witness when he devoured the Golden One and reclaimed his place as the rightful King.

[A twitter dm from Mike Dougherty, the director of KOTM, to me. It says “I just wanted to tell you that your Song of the Tiny Ones story is genuinely fantastic. It’s beautifully written, emotional, powerful, and truly captures Godzilla’s inner monologue. Please keep writing and never stop.”]