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gar-trek · 4 years ago

Note

please share what you have to say about food cubes!!

I was feeling a little apprehensive about releasing the TOS Food Document™ because it is so damn long…. But since you asked anon

DISCLAIMER:

This is focused solely on food as it appears in the original series. Whatever explanation of food synthesizer/replicator that may come in later series does to apply here. I am also not a Star Trek expert. I’m sure there is some super fan out there who knows everything there is to know about food in TOS, but that person is not me. This is just my thoughts as I’ve observed instances where food is shown or mentioned in TOS. If my thought process is flawed, or I make some claims that don’t really make sense, I am sorry. The food canon is very complicated and vague, so this is me just trying my best to make sense of it. I’d also like to mention I did not explicitly cover the meal scene in What Are Little Girls Made Of? Or the ice cream scene from And The Children Shall Lead, but I do make reference to them. I’m sure there are other food scenes I didn’t get to cover here, so if I’m missing a few pieces, I’m sorry.

Anyway… let’s get into it!

The original series, food, and other things that keep me up at night

I don’t care about continuity or plot holes in Star Trek: The Original Series, and if I did, I think the show would become rather unwatchable. It’s not about what happens to get us from plot point A to B, but more important that we do get there (ie, who cares how or why Spock’s brain has been removed from his body, it’s more important that we do get it back inside).

This being said, there is one aspect to TOS that baffles me to no end, and its something I just cannot overlook: the food. Food, the entire concept of it as it appears in TOS haunts me. Each time they show or mention food it makes less and less sense. It’s a never-ending nightmare and I spend every day trying to understand what goes on in the Enterprise Cafeteria. Today I would like to explore a couple food instances on TOS, and hopefully make a little sense of what is happening.

The first chilling incident: The Man Trap (S1E2) - Rand is a thief

In this episode, we see Yeoman Rand on her way to deliver Sulu his meal. She is carrying a tray of colored food cubes (which is what I will be referring to them as here, because there is no official name) and what we can assume to be some kind of alien variant of celery (earth celery with some red crap stuck on top). While waiting for the turbo lift, Rand eats one of the celery sticks intended for Sulu. My question is why. Like literally why does this happen. Sulu never mentions it (maybe he doesn’t notice). She never mentions it to him, which means we can assume she doesn’t want him to know. So why is Rand stealing food? Does she not get enough to eat? Is the limits for how much you get to eat on the Enterprise that strict you need to turn to thievery to get a proper meal? and if that the case, she’s shorting Sulu on his allotted food. In this same scene, we see Ensign Green (who is really a salt-sucking monster) make a grab for the tray as if he too is going to steal Sulu’d food. However, Rand slaps his hand away and asks “who do you think you are?”, a hypocritical statement considering Rand is also in the act of stealing food. So Rand, I must pose the same question to you. This scene has no resolution, so any interpretation is up to the viewer. Whether you think Rand's actions make her a girlboss or a thief, is up to you, however, one thing is undeniably true: Rand eats food off other people's plates.

Other food-related things of note in this episode is that Sulu sprinkles salt on the celery sticks. This means they are either bland or that's just his personal taste. Also, when Rand gives him his tray, he says “may the great bird of the galaxy bless your planet” and this has nothing really to do with food, I just thought it was kind of badass.

(Sulu’s food tray with 3 celery instead of 4 because Rand ate one)

Incident two: Charlie X (S1E3) - synthetic meatloaf

In Charlie X, we see Captain Kirk make this comment in passing:

“Today on earth it is Thanksgiving, if the crew has to eat synthetic meatloaf I want it to look like turkey.”

This statement leaves us with a couple undeniable truths:

1. Meatloaf is a meal option on the Enterprise.

2. It is synthetic, meaning the meatloaf may not contain any meat at all.

3. It is not shaped like turkey, but it is possible to do so.

if the meatloaf served on the Enterprise is synthetic, then it very well could be made out of the same stuff the colored food cubes are made out of. Also, (and this is pure speculation so take it with a grain of salt) since we never hear anyone refer to the colored food cubes by name, they could literally be the “synthetic meatloaf” that Kirk is referring to here. In this case, the term synthetic meatloaf would not mean a synthetic version of the popular American dish meatloaf but instead loafs of synthetic meat. Since we do not know exactly what synthetic meat looks like, it very well could be brightly colored cubes.

In either case, Kirk is asking them to turn synthetic food from one shape to another. We understand this is possible through the food synthesizer, however, if all the food they eat on the Enterprise is synthetic anyway, then why did Kirk specifically mention synthetic meatloaf in the shape of turkey? would the turkey not instead be made out of synthetic turkey? why must the synthetic turkey be made specifically out of meatloaf? isn’t every single food that comes out of the food synthesizer made out of the same thing? It would have made more sense for Kirk to say “it's thanksgiving so can you made the food synthesizers produce turnkey?”. However, Kirk is like, a really cool guy, so it is possible that the meatloaf comment is just a fun joke. Either way, we know that synthetic meatloaf is a standard menu item on the enterprise, yet we have never seen anyone consume it.

Incident 3: The Corbomite Maneuver (S1E11) - Green leaves

In this episode, Kirk goes in for a physical, and Doctor McCoy reports that the captain is 2 pounds overweight. In response to this, the Doctor changes the captain's dietary card to help him lose a little wight (🙄). We later see the captain served a “dietary salad” in place of his usual meals. The existence of dietary salad is interesting for many reasons. Most importantly, we understand that dietary salad is somehow better for you than what is usually served on the Enterprise. It most likely has a lower caloric intake than say, colored food cubes. However, as discussed before, most if not all the food on the Enterprise is synthetic. If the food is created, and not naturally made, then one can assume its caloric value can be controlled. Would it not be possible to make a lower-calorie version of colored food cubes? one would assume that the cubes are made to have the perfect amount of nutrients to satisfy yet keep humans a healthy weight if they are in fact a form of synthetic man-made food. How would the captain overeat, if portions are pre-determined by dietary cards? Is Kirk somehow going rouge and consuming food that is not created by the food synthesizer (the captain's secret cookie stockpile??).

The existence of this salad also begs another question: is it synthetic as well, or are they growing fresh salad on the Enterprise? We do know that they are able to grow things on the ship, however, there has never been any discussion of growing crops specifically for consumption. If this is the case though, it may explain why we often see crew members eating celery sticks. Perhaps things like celery sticks and dietary salads are grown on the Enterprise, but all other food is synthetically created. In which case, who’s job is it to harvest food and prepare it for meals? Did Rand have to put that dietary salad together all on her own?

One more interesting point about the Salad: When Kirk first receives it, he asks

“what in the devil is this? Green leaves?”

which prompts Rand to explain that it’s a salad. It is very possible that Kirk genuinely has no idea what a salad is. He may have never had one, nor heard of the food in his entire life. Later we see him eat the salad with his hands, which further proves the point that captain kirk doesn't know what salad is. Why captain Kirk would somehow have no knowledge of salad is up to speculation.

Incident 4: The conscience of the king (S1E14) - Cry over spilled milk

In this episode, Lieutenant Riley is served colored food cubes and a glass of what appears to be milk. There isn’t much of significance here, other than the fact we know it is possible to get a glass of milk with your meal on the Enterprise. Unlike Sulu, Riley doesn’t have any celery sticks but seems to have a larger serving of colored food cubes as compensation. We also learn that milk is served in a large glass, something that seems very impractical on a starship.

Riley proves my point moments later when he spills milk on a control panel and shatters the glass. This begs the question, who is going to clean that up?

Incident 5: Tomorrow is Yesterday (S1E20) - Chicken noodle soup

In this episode, the Enterprise accidentally beams a 60′s army man abroad their ship (for the second time). This random chad ensign asks the man if he’s hungry because he’s a troll I guess and he wanted to flex their cool future food machine. The army captain guy is like sure, I could go for some chicken soup right now (a very natural response to being beamed onto a spaceship for the first time). Chad ensign has like three cards in front of him, and I guess one of them just happens to be chicken soup because he puts it in the machine and the soup appears. Grant it, we never actually get to see the soup with out own eyes, but the army captain does seem to be pretty convinced that it is chicken soup just by the smell. This opens up a couple possibilities:

-The food synthesizer can make almost anything you want, and the card is maybe like a very broad category, like a dinner card, and when you put it in you can pick any dinner food you’d like.

-The food synthesizer can only make what is specific to each card, and the ensign just got extremely lucky and happened to have a card that was the exact food the army captain wanted.

More evidence, which we will go over later, points more towards the theory that one card is equal to one specific type of food. In this case, it is unclear how the synthesizer food cards are distributed, or how you get your pick of what food you would like. It is also more likely that options would be limited. This does make sense, however, it makes this scene very confusing, as, as I’ve pointed out, the ensign had a very limited number of cards, but exactly what the captain had asked for. Pure luck? what mind game was that Chad ensign trying to play with the poor man who was abducted from earth... we will never know.

One more very interesting thing is established here: The transporter room has a food synthesizer. Why this is is purely up to speculation. In my mind, having a food synthesizer in the transporter room would be like having a full kitchen where you park your car. Seems pretty useless, but maybe the guys in the transporter room requested easy access to snacks? Why the transporter room would get this special privilege is again, up to speculation.

Incident 6: Space Seed (S1E23) - Dinner with Khan

In Space Seed a special dinner is put together to welcome Khan onto the Enterprise. We see that they are being served colored food cubes and celery sticks. Doctor McCoy walks into the dining room and comments about how the display is “very impressive”. However, this seems like a very unusual comment considering we are shown the only food we have ever seen consumed on the Enterprise. What exactly makes this food “impressive” as compared to other celery sticks and colored food cubes? Is there some way to tell this particular food is better that we don’t know about, but is obvious to everyone on the Enterprise?

There is also a chance that Doctor McCoy is just very easily impressed with food, and upon seeing any food spread he is likely to comment in wonder. Note the way Scotty is looking at McCoy. His face is a mixture of confusion, judgment, and pity. Perhaps Scotty is thinking to himself “bruh, it’s literally just colored food cubes chill out man,”. There is no explanation as to why Scotty is giving McCoy such a look, so this very well could be the case. Even though it is a silly explanation, I don’t think it should be ruled out that one of McCoy’s personality traits is being overly excited about food of any kind.

Incident 7: Journey to Babel (S2E10) Party food

Much like in Space Seed, in this episode, we get to see a meal put together for a special occasion. All the diplomates are getting down at a mixer where a spread of food has been provided. These snacks seem very similar to colored food cubes, however I do think they differ. They may be the same type of food, but different in some way. In which case colored food cubes is an overarching category of food, and here we see two different types. The smaller more brightly colored cubes can be put in drinks, though if this is what you are supposed to do with them, or just the preference of that one alien species I do not know. Though I must point out, we have seen colored food cubes served in brown sauce in What are Little Girls Made Of? (S1E8) so it is not completely unheard of to have your colored food cubes served soggy.

The other type of colored food cubes we see are a lot larger and more pair shaped (in reality, they probably were just skinned pairs dipped in food coloring, but for this essay, it’s important that we completely ignore the fact there is another life outside of Star Trek). Now to me, these are very interesting, because the dull color and apparent texture are a lit more similar to standard colored food cubes we have seen thus far. I would even go o far to say that this is the same exact food, just sans the cubed shape. So really, standard colored food cubes are just the cubed version of whatever this food is. This, again, is just speculation, but it does point us to the fact that colored food cubes are not naturally cubed (I’m going somewhere with this is promise)

Incident 8: The Trouble With Tribbles (S2E15) The trouble with Chicken sandwichs

Here we see Kirk attempting to order a chicken sandwich and coffee. What he gets instead is a plate full of tribbles, hilarity ensues. I think this scene is interesting because we can add to our list of food items that are on the menu at the enterprise cafeteria: chicken sandwich. However, this is another food item we do not see. There is no way of knowing if the Enterprise's version of a chicken sandwich is what we would imagine a chicken sandwich to be. Much like the meatloaf and the soup, because we do not see it, there is no way of knowing if the food exists in the way that we as 21st-century people understand it. The events of TOS take place more than 200 years in our future, so to speculate that food could change a lot during that time isn’t a stretch. I don’t know, just some food for thought (lol)

Incident 9: By Any Other Name (S2E22) Living deliciously

In this episode, an alien taking the form of a human enjoys some colored food cubes. He makes a comment about how they are good they are while enthusiastically eating his food. This is a very important moment because it tells us that colored food cubes do taste good. In fact, they taste really good. Just before he eats, the alien comments on how humans could just take pills that give them all their nutrient needs and give up food completely (think the Jetsons cartoon). On the Enterprise, they do not eat just to live, but because they enjoy their food as well. This tells us that colored food cubes are at the very least, worth eating, and at the best, very delicious.

One more interesting thing: Spock is eating some kind of soup while everyone else enjoys colored food cubes. This could be a Vulcan preference, however, we know that Spock is vegetarian. This could be alluding to the fact that Colored Food Cubes are made out of meat.

Conclusion:

Yes, I asked a lot more questions than I answered. There are some things that make absolutely no sense to me, primarily, the food synthesizer and diet cards. Some evidence points to the fact that the food synthesizer can make practically anything (see Tomorrow is Yesterday, And the Children Shall Lead). However, one dietary card is equal to one specific food, which would mean they would have to produce a lot of these dietary cards if there is many meal options. How these cards are distributed, and what their limitations are, we do not know. And although we do not know the limits of what the food synthesizer can create, we do know these food have been served on the enterprise at least at one point:

-colored food cubes (variety)

-celery

-synthetic meatloaf

-synthetic turkey (Thanksgiving Special)

-Dietary Salad

-Milk

-Chicken Soup

-Chicken Sandwich

-Mystery Soup

-Ice cream (variety of flavors)

All of this food (except for maybe the dietary salad and celery) are synoptically created, so what they are actually made up of, I cannot say.

And finally, I would like to make a point about the colored food cubes. I think upon first inspection one would assume colored food cubes is a dish created specifically for space travel (think the food created for modern-day astronauts to consume in space). However, we learned that there is possibly a variety of colored food cube dishes. Since there is such a wide variety of food on the Enterprise, why would they also need to create a food specifically for space travel? I think that colored food cubes are actually a common dish, not intended specifically for space travel. Perhaps it was an alien food that got popular on earth, maybe it was a dish developed later in Earth's history by humans. I can only speculate, but I do think it is more than just boring space food. Everyone seems to have a preference for it, so I think it’s a dish you can eat over and over again and not get sick of. What colored food cubes taste like is completely up to speculation, but I would assume they are a savory food, considering we often see people enjoying them for their main meal.

I still have more to say, but for the sake of everyone, I’ll end it there. This was a lot of thought dumping, so if some of the things I said made no sense at all, I’m sorry. I’d love to hear some of your thoughts on TOS food! please share with me what you think colored food cubes would taste like :)

#star trek #tos #star trek tos #the original series #anon reveal yourself so i can kiss you #please #whole ass ted talk #sorry this is so long #colored food cubes #kirk #james t kirk #spock #bones #leonard mccoy #journey to babel #space seed #yeoman rand #sulu #hikaru sulu

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pigeonflavouredcake · 4 years ago

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I'm an adult now take my advice

(or don't i'm not your dad)

Idk how old my followers are overall but i want to make this post in case any of you are actually teens... I am Officially 20 now. I am no longer a teenager so here are some things I learned as a poor teenager that helped me as a poor adult. Some are witchy, some are just about life, most are food related. Buckle up this will get pretty long.

Write as much down as you can bc puberty can really fuck with your memory.

Staying up late because you simply can't sleep is not something to be worried about unless you want to change that. It's pretty much all your natural body clock.

Get a big folder. Like a massive accordion folder and put all your personal documents in, birth/adoption certificates, bank statements, prescription receipts, diplomas, etc. So if you're ever in a dangerous situation at home you can make your escape a lot easier.

Now is a good time to learn new things that aren't school related. Practice cooking your favourite meals, learn how to properly clean a bathroom, if cleaning is overwhelming there are methods online that can help with that. Like playing a spot the difference game.

NO, tarot is not a closed practice, tarot is a tool for everyone and NO, tarot decks do not have to be gifted to you, you can buy one for yourself. I don't even know where that came from but it's complete bs.

Save the little gift baggies you get when you buy jewellery and use them as spell bags.

Stay away from any woman who calls her vag a yoni. it's weird.

You may want to be seen as smart and mature because it's better than being treated like a kid but you are still a kid. Your safety matters more than how mature and responsible you are. An older person should NOT be talking to you in a romantic/flirtatious setting and if they say it's because you're mature for your age or they can't wait until you're legal fucking bully the living shit out of them then block them and warn your friends. that attitude is creepy as hell bc they want someone they have power over. Same with any friends that brag about their partner being 15/16/17 when they're 18. BULLY THEM THEY'RE GROSS AND THEY DESERVE IT.

If you're in a country with the NHS USE IT NOW WHILE IT'S FREE. The first 6-8 weeks of therapy is free from the NHS. Eye tests and dentist check ups and medication are free untill you're 19 GET THEM NOW.

You can make your own oat milk by blending up oats and water. You don't need to cook with oil, there's enough of it in processed food and fresh veg have enough water in them to cook straight in a pan. You don't need the seasoning packet in ramen you can make your own. Tamari sauce has less sodium than soy sauce. Food always tastes better when it's in season. Try to find space for two food wastes, one for processed/cooked food one for raw. The raw food can be composted and given back to the earth

Best healthiest dinner option I can think of is steamed veggies. Here's my recipe: Heat up a pan on high, pour a bit of water in and then your veggies, stir frequently until all the water is gone. Turn heat down to low. Coat with something like balsamic vinegar and add any seasoning you like. Cover and steam for 10 minutes ish and you're good. You can serve that with a grain or some noodles.

Locally sourced meat and fish is WAY better for the environment than supermarket because there's less preservatives and they're more resourceful with their products.

A standard pie dough is one of the easiest things you can make and the trick is in the amount. Half the flour equals the fat, half the fat equals the sugar. so if you have 200g of flour you need 100g of fat and 50g of sugar. Just throw them in a bowl and mix together and add some cold water to bind together into a dough. It should be solid and little sticky, if it's crumbling add more water, if it's not holding it's shape add more flour. then just fridge it for a few hours to set and you're good.

You made your own soup/stew/pot thingy and you got left overs for the next day? Put it back on the cooker and bring to the boil on high, once it's bubbling take the heat down to low and simmer for 10 minutes (keep stirring if it keeps bubbling). This will help kill any bacteria that developed overnight that might make you sick.

Foraging is good but wear gloves, don't take all from one place and don't eat anything you pick until it's been thoroughly washed. Don't be afraid to go hog wild on things like blackberries, dandelions, or nettles. those things are an invasive species.

Deer are bigger than you think they are.

Air drying takes longer but it will help your clothes last. You can also hand wash with a bowl of hot water and about a teaspoon of washing up powder. Air drying also goes for your hair too.

Stock up on your favourite scented candles any size is ok and use them for spells and rituals.

You got a ghost in your house? Leave them be they're usually just passing through.

If you can't focus on work without music but it needs to be specifically wordless and needs to be easy to fill your brain so you don't focus on every noise other people make listen to animal crossing music that shit got me through two years worth of academic reading.

Bus is late or can't find your keys? Stop looking and start complaining. They'll turn up as soon as you give up.

Piercings are a medical procedure and are safer when they're done with a needle because they're hollow, so they're carving out the skin and cartilage instead of just pushing jewellery through like a gun does. Go to a tattoo parlour that also does piercings bc they're likely to be a lot stricter with rules and customer care.

Life is gonna kick us all in the but so we gotta be there to help eachother out however we can. It definitely feels like it's everyone for themselves but it doesn't have to be.

#I'm 20 #please help #advice #life advice #witchy advice #witch #witchblr #witchcraft #pagan witch #pagan #hellenic pagan #paganism #hellenic witch #kitchen witchcraft #kitchen witch

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years ago

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sick day

Hawks comes home after a few days away. You’ve come down with a nasty cold in his absence.

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

wc: 2.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), reader with a head cold (lil snot action here and there), soft soft SOFT hawks who goes down on u in the morning >:)

requests: from 2 anons!: I have a request ! I love me some hawks taking care of his sick s/o and when they are better ! He pounces for sex ! Huzzah

I’m in desperate need of a hawks taking care of his sick s/o , also because I love your work and also because I’m sick and want to take care of me.

notes: i. adore. writing soft hawks. i just want him to take care of me oh-kay? let this man love. please! 💖

Masterlist

You’re so sick when Hawks get in, you’ve almost forgotten how long he was away.

After a growing mission took him away from the city for a few days, he gets back early in the afternoon with the sun streaming into the kitchen windows. And with you, hunched over your laptop at the counter with tissues littering the counter and floor around you.

“Hey, bluebird,” he calls as his keys jingle in the door. “God, it’s only getting colder out there by the minute now. How’s you- oh, no.”

When he spots the mess you’ve become, his little mission bag slips to the tiled floor, pulling you out of your fever-induced trance. You tear burning eyes away from your document, and the smile that crosses your face is sleepy and swollen.

“Hey babe,” you sniffle. It’s evident in your voice, your body language, everything. Keigo’s only been gone a couple of days, but it was long enough for you to come down with a nasty little bug.

“How was your trip?”

He cringes at the congested sound of your voice. Sucks in a deep little breath through his teeth.

“What are you doing?” He asks. “Are you working?”

You glance guiltily over your shoulder at your laptop. “Well, yeah, I-I was feeling alright this morning, so I-“

“No way,” he interrupts firmly. He’s already shrugging out of his hero clothes. They’re streaked with soot and mud, but he’s going to worry about himself later.

He comes up behind you jacketless, belt already unbuckled and jingling loose around his thighs. He sets one hand on your shoulder and the other on the back of the chair next to you.

“Email your boss,” he rumbles. “Tell her you’re taking the afternoon off. Tell her you’re sick, for the love of god.”

“Babe, I can work,” you plead. “It’s a cold. I’m not dying.”

“You need to rest,” he argues. He brings both hands to your shoulders, digging his thumbs gently against your aching muscles. You try your best to hide how sensitive they are, but you can’t help the little spasms that make you twitch and sigh.

“C’mon,” he hums, dipping close. He pushes a kiss against the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you catch the soft, musky scent of the sweat that clings to his hairline. He smells earthy and cold, like he’s been outside a while.

Maybe he flew all the way back here.

“We both need showers,” he offers. And when he rumbles it all low and tempting in your ear, there’s no way you can put up much of a fight.

“Okay,” you groan. Keigo turns away with a triumphant pump of his fist. You try to keep the idiotic grin off your face as you open a new email. To no avail.

You and your boss have a close enough relationship that it’s easy for you to type out a casual little email explaining everything to her. She gets back to you right away, and even though you’re too busy being dragged to the bathroom, you can tell by the first few lines of the email that it’s all fine by her.

You kind of regret not telling her before about the fever you’re running. But none of that matters now. You’ve got the last few hours of the afternoon off, and you intend on spending at least some of that time in the shower with Keigo.

He’s already naked and warming up the water for you. You want to ache for him- he’s been away all weekend, after all- but you’re both too exhausted to do anything but climb under the water together. You pause for a moment with rivulets running over both your bodies, and he cups your cheeks, biting his lower lip hard as conflict floods his features.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now,” he groans.

“I missed you, too,” you giggle back, reaching up to push your wet fingers through his soaking hair. “But I wouldn’t wish this shit on my worst enemy.”

He knows you’re right, settling for a soft little kiss to your shoulder instead. He turns you around and lets warm water spray down your back as he rubs your shoulders, your neck, working all the tension from your muscles. The pain in your head whittles away the longer you stand there, and before long it’s nothing more than a dull throb while he’s reaching for the shampoo.

There’s no feeling you love more than Keigo washing your hair for you. His fingers are attentive and devoted, scratching itches you never realized were bothering you. He scrunches his fingers through the ends of your hair before reaching for the removable shower head, smoothing one rinsed palm over your forehead to tilt your head back.

“Eyes closed,” he coos. You’re still smiling like a goddamned idiot.

The suds sluice down your back as he passes the shower wand over your hair. The bubbles send wafts of fragrance through your senses. There’s nothing like coconut-scented shampoo when winter closes in on the city. It’s like a little trip to the beach, every time you get in the shower.

It was Keigo’s idea.

He combs loving fingers coated with slippery conditioner through your hair. He lathers up your favourite body wash and trails his slick fingers over your tired skin. You can feel him getting excited behind you, but you’re both too tired to do anything about it. All he does is pull you lovingly back against his chest, letting his half-hard cock rest against the curve of your ass. He lays another soft kiss to the crook of your shoulder and you let out a deep, drippy sigh.

“C’mon,” he rumbles into your ear, tender like a dove. “Let’s get out before your nose starts to run, yeah?”

He dries himself off quickly, leaving you the bathroom for a few minutes. Wrapping your fluffy towel around your shoulders, you pad across the heated tile to pluck a tissue from the box by the mirror.

You blow. Hard. The steam lingering in the room helps to dislodge some of your congestion, and you emerge from the bathroom with the newfound ability to breathe through your left nostril.

Progress.

When you get into the bedroom, there are clothes laid out for you. Your favourite pair of clean sweatpants and one of Hawks’ t-shirts. You slip into the pants and give the t-shirt a little cuddle, burying your nose into the fabric and smiling when you catch the barest whiff of his spicy scent through your dulled senses.

You don’t even notice that the blankets are gone from the bed until you realize where they’ve been moved. As you emerge from your shared bedroom, you immediately spot the fluffy duvet and pillows spread out on the couch.

Hawks is in the kitchen, tapping away on his phone. When he spots you, he smiles so tender and soft it makes your sick little heart swell. He gives a little nod toward the couch as his wings bristle gently, encouraging.

“Go on,” he quips. “Get comfy.”

He comes around the side of the counter as you curl into the nest of pillows and gets down on his knees beside you.

“Here we go,” he hums. “A warm little nest for my cozy little bluebird.” He tugs the edges of the blanket back over and around you, wrapping you up in the fluffy comforter like a sick little sushi roll. Once you’re well tucked in, he smooths the hair back from your forehead. His chin juts forward- he wants to kiss you- but he restrains himself.

“I ordered you some food, okay?”

You snuggle deeper into your cozy retreat, until only your eyes and nose poke over the top of the blankets. The soft, soapy scent of the laundry detergent you use sends sweet washes of comfort through your tired brain.

“What kind of food?”

“Noodle soup,” he hums. You can tell he’s restraining the urge to grin as he looks you over. God, you’ve missed him. “From that place down the road.”

“Yum,” you gasp. You fiddle with the edges of your blanket to shove one hand out the side, grabbing his fingers and giving them a loving little squeeze. He chuckles, taking your hand between both of his and stroking the back of your palm over with both thumbs.

“Here,” he adds. He twists over one shoulder, grabbing the remote for the TV. “Put on anything you want. The food’ll be here soon, and then you can eat and go to bed, yeah?”

He glanced toward the armchair, not far from the couch. You try to hide the way your heart sinks.

He’s still got work to do.

“Sounds good,” you mumble, taking the cool plastic remote from his hand. You think about putting something on for the two of you, but he’s given you express instructions to indulge. So you find the show that brings you the most comfort and let its familiar sounds bring you down from the edge of a demanding work day.

When the food arrives, you sit up and slurp your noodles diligently. He keeps refilling your water, giving you a little dose of cold medication once you’ve got something in your stomach.

He’s ordered a bowl of soup for himself, too, but it stays largely untouched as he taps away on his laptop, finishing the report for the mission he’d raced back from, no doubt.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you half-wake to the sleepy sensation of being lifted. In a drowsy stupor you don’t even open your eyes, simply letting your head rock forward against Keigo’s familiar chest as he carries you to bed.

The next morning, you feel like a changed person.

The first thing you realize when you open your eyes is that you can breathe through your nose. Both sides. The passages of your sinus are so clear they nearly hurt, but you take deep, greedy breaths, revelling in your ability to clear your sleepy head with fresh, cool oxygen.

The second thing you notice is the very mischievous bird in the sheets beside you.

“G’morning, bluebird.”

He snuggles close to you, dropping a sordid kiss to your shoulder. He trails kisses into the crook of your neck and his hot breath tickles your tender skin in a way that you’ve dearly missed.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” you conclude with a drowsy little smile. Your limbs have a pleasant, sleepy weight to them, but he’s quickly wearing the ache of rest from your tired eyes.

“Like… I’m probably not contagious anymore.”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

“God,” he sighs, rolling on top of you. He dips his mouth to yours, soft at first, then insistent. “I missed ya, kid.”

He kisses all the way down the side of your neck again, drawing tight little shivers from the length of your spine. He’s impatient, though, pushing your t-shirt up and curling his fingers into the loose hem of your sweatpants to rid you of them quickly.

He pushes your thighs apart, settling onto his belly between them. His wings dip and fold gracefully behind his back. You reach out and stroke the apex of one of them, making it flutter. He shoots you a sly grin and you watch the way his hips dip into the mattress.

Fuck, it feels good to be horny again.

Keigo kisses and nips a long path up the inside of one sensitive thigh, leaving tiny little welts where he sooths his tongue over your flesh. By the time he gets to the joint of your pelvis, you’re squirming for him, achy and needing.

“Fuck,” he sighs, nozing at the apex of one thigh. He takes a deep inhale and kisses there. “I missed this.”

He licks, gentle and loving. You keen and sigh. The sensation is beautifully familiar- even more so as he finds the swell of your clit, pushing a scruffy kiss to it and then starting to suck.

Keigo always eats you out sloppy. But it drives you crazy, the way he slides his arms under your thighs to leverage your hips against his face. The way he licks and slurps at you shamelessly, unafraid to overwhelm your sensitive form. His fingers dig gently into the meat of your thighs when he finds the tenderest angle from which to attack your clit, and you ride a wave of pleasure so smooth that it clears the last vestiges of your cloudy headache from the edges of your temples.

He makes you cum hard, letting you dive your fingers into his hair and pull while he feasts on your pussy. When he pulls back from between your thighs, his scruff is slick with spit and you and he’s licking his lips like they’re coated in honey.

“Hmm, fuck,” he groans, rolling his hips into the mattress again before climbing to his knees. “God. You gave me so much, bluebird.” He wipes his chin on the back of his hand, examining the sheen of your juices with a wolfish grin.

If he was hard before he’s straining now, but he bats his hands away before you can even get close.

“No way,” he quips, climbing out of bed. “You need to rest more.”

“Aw, c’mon,” you fuss. But Keigo’s firm.

“Stay in bed, bluebird. I gotcha.” He moves toward the door of your bedroom, then glances over his shoulder and grins.

“How d’you feel about pancakes?”

There’s no instance that Keigo’s tried to make pancakes that hasn’t ended in sheer disaster. But you’ve missed him too much not to adore him for trying. You pull the blankets back over your spent form, beaming at him from the pillows.

“Sounds good.”

#hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks x you #takami keigo x you #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #my hero academia #bnha fanfic

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 3 years ago

Text

Phantom Found

Danny Fenton’s Jock Squad, ao3

@floralflowerpower

Wes wasted no time when he got home, hopping onto his computer and looking up ghosts in relation to the name ‘Fenton’. The ‘research’ he found read like a pseudo scientific hate crime meant to push discriminatory legislature, and no amount of combing the documents got him an instance of trying to actually communicate with the ghosts in question. “These 2 are conservatives, I’d bet money on it. I need to talk to someone who’s actually interacted with a ghost beyond shooting at them and trying to suck them into a soup can.”

Spinning in his desk chair, Wes wracked his brain for anyone that fit that description before springing to his feet and running to his father’s room. “Dad! You said a few months ago that you had wishes a a fountain for a million bucks and some kid picked you up when green smoke came out of it, right?”

Walter Weston looked up from his 7,000 piece jigsaw puzzle to stare at his youngest son for a long moment, shock and a hint of understandable irritation painting his features. With a sigh, he stepped back from the table and put a hand on his hip. “Yes, Wes, I did have an… odd experience that day.”

“Did the guy have white hair, a black and white suit on, and glow? About this tall, echoey voice?”

Walter looked to the side, thinking, and nodded. “Yes, he did. Why do you ask?”

“I’m pretty sure I saw the same guy tonight at the game.” Walter’s eyes went wide and he tensed up a bit, turning Wes around to check him over for injuries when the teen walked into the room proper, gesticulating. “A giant green dog barked at us, messed up Baxter’s shot, appeared from nowhere, and started running around the place – and everyone saw . Dad, I’m not the only one who saw it this time, the guy and the dog are real !”

“Are you hurt at all?” Wes scrunched up his nose in confusion and shook his head, and Walter sighed in relief.

“I ran, it jumped at the bleachers, I ran the other way and this dude flew outta the floor and complained at the thing about he isn’t ‘ghost animal control.’ Kwan and Dash have seen him before too.”

Walter took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he considered Wes’ words. He thought for as long as Wes would allow before another stream of words and quickly pinned one part of the nonsense by the wings. “Wes, do you believe that ghosts are real?”

Wes shrugged, pulling up his phone. “I mean, I’ll have to do some more research of my own since the Fentons’ ‘research’ is horrible and riddled with holes in all of their hypotheses but… maybe, I guess. It’s a possibility, and now it’s seeming a lot more plausible.”

Walter searched his son’s face for a long moment, a hand on his shoulder while Wes waited to pass whatever test he was being put through. Eventually, he pulled the teen into a tight hug and Wes returned it. “Just… promise me you’ll be careful with this ‘research’ you’re doing, ok? You have a tendency to get a bit too wrapped up in your theories, son.”

“I am the perfectly normal amount of focused about all of my projects ever, and do not have a hint of ADHD.” Wes nudged his dad and Walter rolled his eyes, pushing him out of the room. “I shall return with proof, Father, I know myself to be right!”

“You better not come back here as a ghost yourself. I want all my kids alive and well for as long as I am.”

Dash and Kwan decided to head to Dash’s house for the night, glad that the game was going to be redone next week since nobody was in the headspace to play around anymore. Kwan texted principal Ishiyama about it and slung an arm around Dash, who did the same. “Dude, what the fuck,” Kwan finally said and Dash nodded.

“The world made sense before highschool,” Dash said. “The closest thing to ghosts was Fenton’s eyes getting weirdly bright when he was mad.”

“I don’t remember that ever happening,” Kwan said, “but I also never looked at his eyes close enough to tell. When did you?” Kwan had on a sly little smirk and Dash rolled his eyes, shoving his friend.

“Shut up, man. I noticed when I was pinnin him against the lockers.”

“You do love to pin Fenton against any surface you can find, don’t you?”

“Are you implying something, Kwan?” Dash arched a brow, his cheeks hot and his scowl as cold as he could manage with his best friend. Kwan laughed and held up his hands in surrender.

“I’m just sayin, you don’t come up with a buncha nick names and hunt down and initiate as much contact with other geeks and nerds as you do Fenton. I know you’re a wrestler but nobody loves grappling that much.” Kwan dodged away from Dash’s shove and laughed. “Hey, he’s not exactly bad looking so I don’t blame you or anything if you’re so focused on him cause you don’t know how to express yourself to a guy.”

Dash’s face was burning a campfire and he struggled for words to respond to any of that, because now hardly felt like the time to confront his sexuality, right after they both nearly got mauled by a dog bigger than both of them. He huffed and glared at his best friend’s cheeky grin and opened his mouth. “Not bad looking huh? Are you bringin this up cause you’re jealous that I’m the one pinning him to a locker?” He hadn’t expected to say that but it was all too easy to follow up when Kwan scoffed and started blushing. “Or are you jealous that I’m giving him so much attention?”

Kwan blinked a few times and tilted his head to the side, his mouth opening and closing a couple times before he snorted. “Dash are you flirting with me? Did you just ask me out to not think about your crush on Fenton?” Kwan broke down into a fit of giggles and Dash sputtered, shaking his head.

“I do not have a crush on Fenton!”

“So you did just flirt with me?”I don’t have a crush on Fenton! Why the hell do you think this?”

“So you did ask me out just now. Wow, Dash, I didn’t think it’d be this soon in our lives, I was sure you’d have to have a dramatic coming out like in those telanovellas you love so much. Or have they softened your icy heart so that you can finally confess your love?” The two of them went down in the grass next to them, uncaring of who’s yard it was they were wrestling in, and in the end both of them were laughing their heads off.

Once the boys were done goofing off to spend all the nervous energy, Dash stood up and helped Kwan to his feet. Kwan sighed and gave Dash a light punch to the shoulder. “Seriously, dude, if Fenton’s got some sorta supernatural whatever going on, then I dunno if it’s enough to just stop messing with him.”

Dash rolled his eyes, continuing toward his house. “Oh please, what would the nerd even do?”

“Dude, he can turn himself and his clothes at minimum invisible. He could do so many horrible things to us if he wanted to just to get back at us for being dicks. Like, what would you do if you could turn invisible and someone’s been an ass to you since highschool started?”

“I’d’ve beat em up already for being an ass, Kwan. And I’m not an ass.”

“You’re a dick to Fenton,” Kwan pointed out. “I don’t think elbows are supposed to bend the way you make em to fit him in his locker.” Dash rolled his eyes and Kwan started counting on his fingers. “He could poison your food and you’d never know it was him; he could follow you home and grab a knife from the kitchen while you’re asleep and kill you, then plant the knife on your dad; he could-“

Dash covered Kwan’s mouth, his stomach turning as other scenarios where Fenton could do other things that he knew ghosts were supposed to be able to do – which didn’t matter because Fenton couldn’t be a ghost cause Dash had never been rough enough to kill the guy – ran through his mind. “Please, for the love of romance, stop watching so many horror things. That SCP shit you listen to is fucked up and I don’t need to hear it applied to real people.”

Kwan licked Dash’s hand, to their mutual disgust, and spat on the ground. “Dude, you wash your hands, right?”

“We were just rollin around in the grass, Kwan, shut up. Of course I do.”

“Fine, whatever. But seriously, I think you should apologize to Fenton. If not to get on friendly terms then at least to get off any list of targets he may have in case he gets or has more superpowers besides turning invisible.”

Dash felt himself burn up red for entirely different reasons than Kwan’s totally baseless teasing from earlier. He hated that Kwan sounded so serious, and he loathed the idea of actually apologizing for good ol fashioned fun, putting a nerd in his place. He clenched his fists, wishing he had something to punch besides Kwan’s sincerely worried face. “…Fine. I’ll think about it. Now can we go to my house and crash? I’m tired of thinkin about Fenton.”

“That’s a first.” Kwan laughed when Dash growled, and started running.

As it turned out, finding info on ghosts was insanely difficult if you weren’t going to the Fentons or some other crackpot that wholeheartedly agreed with them. Similarly, searching for a ghost on purpose with no more than his old camera didn’t exactly bode well for results, even if he’d gone through all the places that nigh impossible to find reports of the ghosts brawling had occurred. Wes wasn’t giving up on that, but until a ghost appeared of their own volition, he was SOL on that end of things. Which left him with one other mystery to explore: Fenton, Manson, and likely Foley as well.

Wes didn’t know much about them, having moved here with his dad and Kyle after their mom died and Easton was all alone in the house around the middle of the year. Asking around, it seemed very few people knew anything about Danny Fenton either. He spearheaded an astronomy club before march rolled around and he quit it, was apparently gone a whole week in the hospital at some point, and couldn’t handle fragile objects anymore because he kept dropping them. People joked that he had a nervous bladder that came and went because of his odd yet long bathroom breaks and had noticed every now and then he came in to school bruised up before Dash had even gotten a chance to be an asshole that day.

Manson was a goth, an activist, a vegan by a fancier name and, if Star’s small rant was anything to go by, a Not Like Other Girls jerk, though whether or not she was a jerk he’d leave up to his own judgement after meeting her. After all, he’d had to deal with avoiding people like Paulina at his last school, knew how rumors could spread around lies that just barely made enough sense for people to either believe them or pretend to believe them. Still, Star was the one with the info and Wes couldn’t exactly go to Paulina – she stationed herself too high on the sophomore social ladder for that. Whatever, more research was needed.

Foley wasn’t anything particularly special, a womanizing creep that all the girls hated for once hanging around the entrance to the girls’ locker room – immediately losing points with Wes. He did a lot of IT shit though so while he was hardly going to be Wes’ friend anytime soon, he wasn’t going to be made an enemy any sooner. Wes wasn’t dumb enough to ignore the possibility of the ai apocalypse. Other than being in the robotics club and being a furry that either didn’t know how or didn’t care to hide his furriness, there was nothing particularly remarkable about Foley as far as Wes could tell. Beyond, of course, being best friends with Danny Fenton.

By the time Wes got together these observations from asking other people about the trio of friends, some new artist had come out with an apparent hit song. He might’ve ignored the Ember fever if it didn’t also follow him home, Kyle and Easton blaring the song Remember by Ember in the kitchen. After that he didn’t really think much about the ghost mystery, drawn in to think about Ember and her amazing voice, and soon he was doing research on Ember Mclain rather than giant ghost dogs.

Wes blinked, then again, and looked around him in confusion. He was at a concert hall with no memory of how he’d gotten there, packed in like sardines with his brothers. Looking at the stage his jaw dropped and eyes went wide as saucers. Right there, next to Ember and Foley, was the guy his dad had described and who he’d seen at the game. Scrawny as all hell, wearing some black and white suit that seriously reminded Wes of the Fantastic Four, his eyes were glowing, even from Wes’ seat, and especially on the big screens.

Hardly one to let an opportunity like this pass him by, Wes pulled his camera up from where it hung around his neck and got to snapping pictures, zooming in with each one best he could before the guy could leave. Something silver - a thermos the screens showed - was pulled off his belt and Ember was sucked away in a blue beam of light. The ghost kid pulled Foley off stage, and Wes chained several swears together because he was too crammed into the irritated crowd to follow them. “I saw you, ghost kid. Now let’s see if I can find out who you are.”

#Danny Phantom #Wes Weston #Walter Weston #Dash Baxter #Kwan Ishiyama #Danny Fenton’s Jock Squad #Rexy Writes #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #phanfiction #phanfic #fanphic #fanphiction #phanphiction #phanphic #phic

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butterflyinthewell · 3 years ago

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Heisei Godzilla headcanons

You want the biggest autistic infodump ever? Here you go. All my Heisei Godzilla brain soup in one post! Most of these are 20+ years old!

Trigger warnings for under the cut:

body horror, puke, suffocation, starvation, burning, animal suffering.

(This document will be confusing to people unfamiliar with Godzilla lore, sorry! The Godzilla wiki is a good place to get familiar.)

Table of contents:

LEGACY OF GOJIRA

Disability headcanon for Godzilla and other stuff...

Godzilla’s heart!

Godzilla’s brain!

Godzilla’s motor issues

Godzilla’s hyperthymesia

Mutating was traumatic to Godzilla and it changed how his disability affects him.

Old Tongue

How Shezilla takes it.

Shezilla’s identity crisis

Family stuff

Play has different roles…

How they screw! (NSFW, stop at this title if you don’t want to know!)

LEGACY OF GOJIRA

A summary of my headcanon for the Heisei era timeline pre- and post- Godzilla vs King Ghidorah, and where my stuff fits in. I put this first because some of this weirdness will get explained afterward. Think of it as an appetizer.

***

Now, some terminology to avoid confusion.

I will use Gojira when I’m speaking about the creature who appeared in 1954. He is the father of Godzilla.

And I will say Godzilla when speaking about the creature who appeared in 1984 onward. He is Gojira’s son.

Pre-Futurians:

A young adult godzillasaur charges into a battle between American and Japanese soldiers on Lagos island. It’s WW2. He chases the Americans away, but is wounded in the process and collapses on the forest floor. Shindo and his Japanese troops thank him, apologize for not being able to carry him and leave.

An elderly godzillasaur comes onshore with a whale in his mouth and finds his wounded son. He runs to the younger dinosaur’s side, manages to get him to eat the whale meat and tries to lick his wounds clean. Days go by. Infection sets in and becomes sepsis. The younger godzillasaur is definitely dying.

Then a morning arrives where a blinding flash goes off in the sky. Both dinosaurs have the scales melted off their bodies and they are soon covered in fallout ash. The younger dinosaur convulses and screams in pain. The older one holds his hand and conceals his agony behind a stoic visage. He stays by his son’s side until they both black out from the pain.

Gojira awakens weeks later aware that he is different.

He looks to his son, who is breathing and unresponsive. Godzilla only moves to writhe, convulse and shriek in pain. Unimaginable anguish fills Gojira because this bright light made him and his only child suffer.

Weeks pass. He waits for his son to open his eyes and tells him to stay on the island. Godzilla always listens when told to stay somewhere. He is too sick and weak to move anyway. Gojira tells Godzilla he loves him and heads out to sea.

Fall arrives. It’s November 3, 1954, and Gojira crashes across Odo island. When he pops his head over the hill, he is telling the humans he will destroy them. He heads into Tokyo not long after. His rampage is an act of pure, spiteful revenge. Days later, he is killed by the Oxygen Destroyer. As he dies, he curses at the humans for the suffering they caused him.

Godzilla spends more time exposed to the radioactive fallout, so he grows a bit larger than his father although not by much. He wanders around Lagos island until the chill of winter arrives. He spends days calling for his father, but gets no answer. So he finally swims out to sea and spends the next several decades alternating between hibernating and absorbing radioactive waste in and around the island.

Finally, he had consumed all the radiation nearby and has to venture out to find more. He also hoped to find his father. So, in December of 1984, Godzilla made his presence known by attacking submarines, a nuclear power plant and finally coming ashore.

(My inserted headcanon) A young 13 year old Miki Saegusa was in the train car Godzilla picked up and dropped. She was the only survivor because her parents shielded her with their bodies.

Steven Martin was correct when he said Godzilla was looking for something. Unfortunately, what Godzilla sought could never be found because his dad is dead. Only Miki knows who he’s looking for.

The situation escalated, ultimately ending with the Super X destroyed and Godzilla plunging into Mt Mihara.

Godzilla was released from the volcano in 1989. He encounters Miki again, gets infected with the anti-nuclear energy bacteria and battles Biollante. After defeating her, he heads out to sea where he proceeds to be ravaged by the ANEB.

Enter the Futurians… Miki Saegusa is among the people from the 90s to go back in time…and here comes the fun part.

🌀🌀🌀🌀

Post-Futurians:

Godzilla is teleported off Lagos island and into the Bering sea at a randomly chosen time (1970s), where he lands on a bunch of nuclear waste and undergoes his painful mutation utterly alone. It’s more violent because the nuclear waste is more concentrated and toxic.

(My inserted headcanon) Miki returns to the present with the others. She feels a weird fracture in her memory, as if aspects of her past happened twice, but she doesn’t tell anyone because it’s too confusing to explain.

Behind her, history is repairing itself…

Gojira comes ashore on Lagos and can’t find his son. The nuclear bomb test happens as planned (which also created King Ghidorah from the abandoned Dorats, but it took a long time for him to grow up to size), and Gojira suffered through his mutation alone, too.

But he no longer had a reason to wait around, so he left the island as soon as he was strong enough to move without screaming in pain. He crosses Odo island and makes landfall in Japan in August instead of November.

When he pops his head over the hill, he is asking the humans if they saw his son or know where he is. They don’t understand, so he gets pissed and trashes Tokyo. He is killed by the Oxygen Destroyer. As he dies, he calls out for his son.

Far away in another time in the Bering sea, Godzilla wanders between unconsciousness and seizures and misery because his surroundings are so toxic. When the mutation process is complete, he is twice the size of his father. He wanders the seafloor, absorbing stray radioactive waste between long stretches of sleep.

The events of 1984 and 1989 play out the same, but people remember Godzilla as being 100 meters tall (328 feet).

(My inserted headcanon) Miki’s younger 1984 self is picked up in the train car as before, but now she senses Godzilla recognizing her and being confused as to why. He shows her images of herself as an adult in a jungle. Her 1989 encounter with him on the helipad dredges up the same confusion.

She lives her life up to the Futurians again, which closes the loop, and now she understands what happened and why she feels like she has lived her life up to that point twice. Past Miki and present Miki are now one and her feeling of fracture goes away.

Shindo sends a sub out to recreate Godzilla to fight King Ghidorah, but he doesn’t know Godzilla already exists until it’s too late.

Godzilla is gravely sick with the ANEB, but Shindo’s nuclear submarine powers him up enough to overcome the illness. He comes ashore in Japan and takes down King Ghidorah and kills the malicious Futurians who created King Ghidorah.

In typical Godzilla fashion, he goes stomping into Tokyo. He encounters Shindo in one of the skyscrapers he is about to knock down. Shindo, the man Godzilla sees as the person who deserted him to suffer through his mutation. He kills Shindo with his breath and comes face to face with Mecha-King Ghidorah. The battle ends with Mecha-King Ghidorah destroyed and Godzilla is plunged back into the sea.

Time has been rewritten, but Godzilla’s existence is a fixed point and cannot be overwritten. No matter what anyone does in the past, the universe will ensure Godzilla exists.

Shezilla happens in 1994 (movie year with inserted headcanon), a year after Godzilla battles Mothra and Battra.

Time splits 2 ways from the moment of her conception in a Petri dish. If the Doctor was flying the TARDIS through here, they will see a timeline split here, and the future they see depends on which branch in the timeline they follow after Shezilla enters the picture.

🌀🌀🌀🌀

BRANCH 1– ‘Canon’ timeline: Shezilla’s mutation overtakes her due to an underdeveloped nuclear gland. She dies. She and Godzilla had conceived a baby, but Shezilla was too sick to survive having it.

Godzilla takes her body to Challenger Deep because he doesn’t want predators to eat her. It’s a massive scientific loss, but there was no way to tend to her body with him hovering around.

He still thinks she will wake up because his heart stops and starts a lot due to his heart defect, and he doesn’t realize it’s an abnormality. Over the next month he tries feeding Shezilla from his own radioactive stores. Shezilla has what is essentially a coffin birth since Godzilla’s radiation was feeding the embryo instead of Shezilla. But the egg can’t survive the intense pressures and it is crushed instantly. Godzilla is totally crestfallen. He nuzzles Shezilla’s nose and the flesh sloughs off. She is decomposing.

Now Godzilla accepts that his mate and their baby are gone to the Stars. He leaves the seafloor in a state of mourning.

The Shrinking Project happens that same day. The man behind it has a vendetta against Gojira, so he’s taking it out on Godzilla.

Shezilla’s spirit possesses Miki Saegusa and tells her Godzilla must live. He has work to do. It takes time for her and Miki to understand each other, but once they do they work together to ensure Godzilla stays alive.

The same group of people behind the Shezilla project rescue Godzilla from the nasty person who only wants to torture him.

Godzilla isn’t doing well while tiny. He begins showing all the signs of acute heart failure. The Shezilla team figures out how to keep him alive by doing something dangerous and unprecedented. They patch the hole in his heart and ablate the underdeveloped nerve bundles that cause his arrhythmias, and he slowly returns to his normal size in short bursts after the shrink ray wears off. A confrontation between him and the nasty vendetta guy happens while he’s man-sized, and it doesn’t go well for vendetta guy.

Shezilla’s spirit can finally rest, so she departs into eternity after a moving goodbye to her mate.

History carries on through BabyGodzilla being found, Mechagodzilla, Fire Rodan, SpaceGodzilla and Destroyah.

BabyGodzilla grows up into LittleGodzilla and then Junior. Godzilla raises the little one as his own. He tells him all the stories his own father told him and imparts the knowledge of his kind’s history. Everything Gojira told Godzilla becomes known to Junior.

After battling Destroyah, Godzilla dies of a nuclear meltdown and his soul ascends to the Stars where Shezilla and a daughter are waiting. All that is left of his physical presence is a lump of corium.

Junior finishes his mutation into an adult godzillasaur thanks to the immense radiation of Godzilla’s meltdown. He takes the corium out to sea and lays it in next to Shezilla’s skeleton in Challenger Deep and grieves over them both for a long while.

Then he has to feed again, so he ascends to the surface and takes down an aircraft carrier transporting nukes. From that day on, Junior carries the legacy of Gojira alone.

🌀🌀🌀🌀

BRANCH 2– ‘Survival’ timeline: Shezilla gets very weak and sick because of an underdeveloped nuclear gland, but Godzilla is able to feed her massive, concentrated doses of radiation that allow the gland to achieve critical mass and keep her alive.

A small island becomes a dumping ground for radioactive waste, so the Godzilla family is more apt to go there. Their rampages into cities become extremely rare. Humanity is slowly learning to coexist with kaiju.

MechaGodzilla isn’t necessary and is never built. The metal from Mecha-King Ghidorah is used instead to reverse engineer its technology into things like quantum computers, medical devices, vehicles for space travel and safer nuclear power plants. The Shrinking Project doesn’t happen either because the tech is kept under lock and key and only a few people know where.

Shezilla nests and lays an egg. She and Godzilla are awakened a while later by the sound of cracking. The egg hatches.

It’s a girl with brown eyes. A kaijuologist who speaks Latin nicknames her Filia, which is Latin for daughter.

Junior’s egg is discovered while Rodan is away, so he is taken into human custody without incident. He hatches under Azusa Gojo’s watch and will grow up into a typical unmutated godzillasaur in a safe enclosure.

SpaceGodzilla happens in (movie time) 1995. He tangles with Rodan in the upper atmosphere and sends him crashing into Pripyat, Ukraine. His body falls into the Chernobyl power plant. He appears dead. Nobody will move him until because he is laying on the damage he caused and preventing radiation from leaking out.

When SpaceGodzilla lands, it’s Filia who curiously wanders over to check him out. She gets kidnapped and imprisoned in a crystal cage. Shezilla confronts SpaceGodzilla after hearing her daughter scream for help, and he utterly insults her mate by insisting he would be a better one. She gets enraged and fights him, but he overpowers her and leaves her seriously injured. Godzilla comes ashore after hearing Shezilla’s distress calls. Unfortunately, SpaceGodzilla is already gone. Godzilla. Is. Pissed. Off.

Shezilla recovers quickly. She and Godzilla both go on a rampage towards SpaceGodzilla. It’s a violent, bloody, nasty battle. SpaceGodzilla propositions Shezilla again. This time she says yes, and she seduces him as a trick. She gets SpaceGodzilla all the way to the point of climbing on top of her…and that’s when Godzilla knocks down the tower SpaceGodzilla is using as a power source. Shezilla flashes a grin at SpaceGodzilla and point blank trashes his shoulder crystals with her atomic breath. She kicks him off her, and her and Godzilla both kill him with their atomic breath. Filia is set free and all is well.

In 1996, reports indicate the radioactivity caused by Chernobyl has dropped to safe levels, safe enough that people can move back in.

Then a fireball is tracked over Hong Kong. It’s Fire Rodan, and he is burning up from too much nuclear energy. He decimates large parts of Hong Kong with his radioactivity and the sonic booms of flying by. At the same time, Destroyah is emerging from the water in Japan and causing havoc.

Filia, now the godzillasaur equivalent of a preteen, is awakened from her sleep by a telepathic call from Miki Saegusa and another girl, Meru. They lure her in to fight Destroyah. She’s up for the challenge.

Along the way, she meets Rodan, who mistakes her as the baby taken from his island a few years ago. She has no idea what he’s talking about and figures the runaway radiation is scrambling his brain. She tells him to hang back and off she goes to take on Destroyah.

Then her parents awaken to find her gone and set out in search of her. They end up tangling with Rodan, demanding to know what he did with their daughter. Rodan leads them to where Filia and Destroyah are duking it out at Haneda airport. Seeing her parents arrive distracts her just long enough for Destroyah to stab her in the chest and inject micro-oxygen directly into her nuclear gland. Destroyah throws Filia at her parents.

Filia is mortally wounded. Godzilla tries to feed her from his own radioactivity, but it doesn’t work. She’s too young and injured.

Shezilla goes berserk when she sees her daughter hurt like that. She charges Destroyah while Godzilla tries to save Filia. Rodan rages as well even though the exertion is raising his temperature to dangerous levels. He helps Shezilla battle Destroyah.

Filia apologizes to her dad for running off and stops breathing before he can tell her it’s okay. Godzilla screams when his little girl dies. He charges into the fray with tears pouring down his face and tells Destroyah he is going to wipe him off the earth.

Destroyah manages to cleave Rodan’s chest open with his horn. Now mortally wounded himself, Rodan glides towards Filia’s body and lands on top of her. He doesn’t realize she is dead and vows to guard her. His melting body pumps a massive dose of radiation into Filia’s corpse. She starts to breathe again and opens her eyes as the flesh melts off Rodan’s face. All that is left of him is his skeleton and a cloud of radioactive ash.

Destroyah is about to overpower Godzilla and Shezilla when the radioactive ash cloud surrounds them all. The radiation seeps into Godzilla and Shezilla, filling them with power.

A spiraling red atomic beam blasts in from one side. It’s Filia. Godzilla and Shezilla turn to Destroyah, who is now triangulated between an angry godzillasaur family. All 3 unleash simultaneous spiral red beams and Destroyah is reduced to nothing.

Godzilla and Shezilla are all over Filia, loving on her and crying when asking what happened. Filia answers that Rodan saved her and turns to indicate his empty skeleton. They all share a moment of silence for their unwitting fallen ally and return to the sea, leaving Tokyo to clean up the mess.

Things are uneventfully quiet. Filia grows up into a lovely adult godzillasaur. She separates from her parents by creating a den on the north side of the island. (Her parents are on the east side).

EarthCam sets up a few webcams on the island, playfully named Monster Island, in 2009. People all over the internet can log on and see the Godzilla family go about their lives.

The peaceful times break in 2011, when a massive 9.0 earthquake strikes Japan. A tsunami follows, and the destruction and fires are more massive than anything Godzilla or his family could do in that short period of time.

The earthquake damages an enclosure where the only living dinosaur, Junior, is kept. The enclosure is large and as close as possible to his natural habitat. Azusa Gojo is dragged kicking and screaming to evacuate before the tsunami arrives. When it does, it destroys the rest of the enclosure and the dinosaur stumbles free. He’s at home with the water and staggers towards the glow of a towering fire.

It’s Fukushima, and the reactors have melted down.

Junior gets hungry. He eats plants and fish around the burning nuclear power plant. He is exposed externally and internally to the radioactivity leaking out into the air, water and soil. His presence prevents helicopters from stopping a massive explosion of radioactive steam. Junior is right in the middle of it. His outer scales are burned off. Now in pain, he staggers away and falls unconscious into the receding tsunami waves. Humanity loses sight of him and assumes he perished.

Azusa tries to pull resources to search for Junior, but all efforts are focused on recovering from the disaster. She agrees despite how it hurts and accepts that the dinosaur she raised by hand is gone from her. Miki Saegusa senses what is going on. She keeps it to herself because humanity has meddled enough with the monsters and she wants them to live in peace. She focuses her powers on detecting and locating anyone missing after the disaster.

Weeks go by. Junior awakens to somebody nudging his shoulder. He is no longer a dinosaur.

The mutation manifests differently on him because of the chemicals he ingested and came in contact with. (MIREGOJI!!!) His greenish-gray pitted skin and spiky dorsal spines are quite a sight, but it’s not his reflection in the water that he’s looking at.

The first thing Junior sees is a beautiful girl with brown eyes. Filia smiles and asks him if he’s okay. It’s love at first sight.

Ancient godzillasaurs has a tradition when it came to potential mates. Her dad told her all about it and she wants to uphold it, so she takes Junior to meet her parents.

Junior meets Shezilla first. He’s nervous and charming. She likes him immediately! Then Godzilla comes out to have a look. He’s huge and imposing even though his movements are jerky and stiff.

The moment they lock eyes is a tense one.

Godzilla asks Junior if he promises to treat his daughter’s heart like the treasure that it is. Junior swears on his life that he will. Godzilla tells Junior he better be impressive when he makes his move. Again, Junior swears that he will.

Godzilla nods his approval. He takes Junior’s hand, he takes Filia’s hand and clasps them together. Filia grins up at her dad. He tells her he’s happy for her. Then Godzilla and Shezilla stand together, watching their daughter and her future mate walk off.

Junior tells Filia his story of where he was all this time, and he mentions relating to how Shezilla feels like a young outsider. Filia says not to worry about it. Her dad didn’t worry about her mom’s mysteriously absent past, so she decided not worry so much about Junior’s.

Junior asks Filia to tell her story. She does. It’s a long tale stretching back millions of years. The sun goes down and the Milky Way is bright in the night sky. Junior is falling into her eyes. Filia is falling into his. He makes his move. Filia consents. They conceive.

Junior can’t stop thinking about the humans who took care of him and doesn’t know what happened to them after the ground shook. He slips away in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t recognize the disaster-ridden coastline when he arrives. He has a soft spot for humans because they were kind to him, so he locates a bunch of people swept away by the tsunami. Living and dead alike are gathered and placed on dry land where rescuers can reach them.

Junior finds Azusa on a balcony far inland. She recognizes him despite his mutated appearance, but she doesn’t understand his roar is telling her that he’s fine and about to be a dad. She cries instead, so he leaves and that is the last time they see each other.

A year later, Filia and Junior crouch by their nest and watch their egg hatch. It’s a boy with heterochromia. One eye is yellow, the other is brown. He has Junior’s facial features and Filia’s elegant long tail. He’s smaller than Filia was when she hatched. Kaijuologists nickname him Kage(kah-geh), which is Japanese for shadow, because his hide is black like one.

Kage falls out of his eggshell in a curled up position. It takes him a few days to walk and his hands are tight fists. The way he moves reminds Filia of her dad. And she is right, he inherited Godzilla’s heart issues and the subsequent neurological issues.

Kage is a grumpy little baby at first because he hatched in the winter and it’s cold. His parents keep him warm in their cave for the first few days until he’s able to shuffle around. His legs are much more affected than Godzilla’s, but he can walk if he goes slow and he’ll get a little better at it with time. He falls over a lot because he’s pigeon toed.

Filia and Junior are overwhelmed with joy because their baby didn’t keel over dead like they feared he might. They take Kage to meet his grandparents. Shezilla dotes on him immediately, and Godzilla is totally amazed to see another godzillasaur who Moves Like Him. He looks down at the baby godzillasaur and sees both his mother and father looking back at him through his grandson’s eyes.

Kage squawks a challenge because he can’t roar yet. Godzilla belly laughs as he comes to understand what his own father saw in him when he was little. Then he gets a goofy grin on his face because teaching Kage all the tricks to managing his Palsy will be so much fun! Kage will grow up surrounded by a loving family with a legacy as old as the sky.

Disability headcanon for Godzilla and other stuff...

(The disability stuff pissed people off. SEETHE MORE...)

Godzilla’s heart!

If you managed to get a drone into Godzilla’s body and passed it into his heart, you would find the septum stops about 2/3 of the way down. The hole looks almost like a nostril, and right smack in the middle of it are the two nerves of his heart’s conduction system– much like the bundle of His in humans. The same genetic quirk gave him a quadricuspid aortic valve (he has 2 aortas and a foramen of panizza like a croc), but that doesn’t affect him at all, it just looks cool.

He has a conduction system almost like a human’s as a result of his mutation, but it added two extra malformed bundle branches that shouldn’t be there. The extra bundle branches are usually overridden by the main set. Pre-mutation, his heart muscle developed itself to contract harder on systole, which pulls the apex (pointy end) up and almost closes off the hole. It continued to do this after his mutation.

Chaos happens when his heart beats really fast and the signals start jumping to the extra bundle branches. A sustained fast heartbeat turns into v-tach. His heart muscle doesn’t contract as efficiently when it’s flailing around at high speed, so the shunt isn’t pinched off as much and his myocardium is the first thing that feels the “burn” of less oxygen. (Which is why he gets chest pains, Pangs in his narrations.)

Sometimes, (but not always) the v-tach turns into v-fib and it’s a mess. He gets the head rush feeling and won’t pass out if the v-fib only lasts 1 to 2 seconds, but he goes down if it lasts any more than 5.

His nuclear gland acts like a defibrillator that stops his heart (asystole) and the electrical system resets itself back to normal sinus rhythm. Someone running an EKG would see the shock, the pause and return to normal sinus on the tracing. You can’t tell it’s happening from the outside– his body doesn’t convulse– all an outsider sees is he falls, he stops breathing (or has agonal respirations / guppy breathing), he starts breathing again and groggily gets back up. If he’s underwater, he appears to go to sleep for a few seconds and wakes back up.

The only time human eyes witnessed Godzilla going down in full arrest was in 1984, when the cadmium triggered an arrhythmia and stopped his nuclear gland from delivering the little shocks that usually set things straight. The people didn’t know that happened because nobody was monitoring his heartbeat. He might have stayed down if not for the nuke in the atmosphere recharging him.

Godzilla can and has “died” many times, but his radioactive regenerative abilities replenish the failing cells. He can go days to weeks without a heartbeat or oxygen and still come back to life with a hefty dose of radiation supercharging his cells.

His nuclear gland is a huge, white lobular organ taking up all the space between his thoracic internal organs. His heart is sort of “shrink wrapped” to his nuclear gland like a stuffed animal inside a colorful Easter basket.

Somebody taking an echocardiogram or MRI of his chest will initially misinterpret the image as a pericardial effusion or cardiac tamponade. Actually, it’s salt water and it acts like heavy water. He’ll take gulps of seawater from time to time and that’s where it goes. His heartbeat circulates this fluid through his nuclear gland while also pumping blood through his body. The pressure of this pericardial fluid rises or lowers depending on how deep he dives into the ocean, and it keeps his heart pumping efficiently when his rhythm isn’t thrown out of whack.

Here’s one more bizarre aspect of his biology: His heart sits low in his chest like a bird’s due to how his mutation affected his organs. The apex is actually below his sternum, and his whole heart is pushed down out of his ribcage if he bends backwards (which he can’t really do on his own.)

You may think that makes it more vulnerable, but actually no. :P

Godzilla has a tough, hard to penetrate exterior and really thick skeletal muscles because his internal organs are super fragile and easy to injure. It takes a lot of penetrative force to do his organs any harm. External blows won’t hurt his insides because his muscles and bones absorb and distribute the impacts around his surface. The only way to successfully inflict internal blunt force injuries is to drop him onto hard ground from the uppermost atmosphere, and good luck managing that unless you’re really powerful...or something.

By all accounts he should not be alive at all. He was already dying as a normal godzillasaur, and the mutation forced his body to adapt for survival. His lungs are huge to maximize gas exchange in the air, and basically all the tissue under the hide on the front of his neck is lamellae that he can expose or cover as needed. He “holds his breath” to dive initially, exhales underwater and that triggers the folds in his neck to part and expose his gills. Another reflex closes them off completely when he surfaces.

He is able to take the oxygen from the water and divert the carbon dioxide into his lungs as gas, which lets him roar or use his beam underwater. (Lung breath provides the force to start the beam, stomach gas sustains it! :D)

He can technically “drown” if he inhales water, however his body has ways of preventing that. You would have to cut certain nerves in his neck and, again, good luck achieving that.

Godzilla’s brain!

If you want to get technical about it, Godzilla has an ABI (acquired brain injury) caused by hypoxia.

In humans ABIs are brain injuries that happen after birth. A TBI(traumatic brain injury) is considered an ABI too, but not all ABIs are TBIs. If you hit your head and it damaged your brain, that’s a TBI, which is an ABI. If you didn’t breathe properly after you were born and it damaged your brain, that’s just an ABI. Cerebral palsy is an ABI. A blow to the head that causes bleeding in the brain is an ABI that’s also a TBI. See how it works?

For Godzilla, “birth” is a muddy subject. He hatched from an egg, so the rules are a tiny bit different. Godzilla (as a typical pre-mutation godzillasaur) formed normally in the yolk of his egg with the exception of the ventricular septal defect in his heart.

The VSD didn’t pose much problem in the beginning when he was just a little blob. Issues arose as body finished developing and the fine tuning began. He needed more and more oxygen, which his heart couldn’t supply properly, and both his cranial and spinal brains were damaged as a result.

The motor areas in his spinal brain took the hit first, which affected his legs and tail. Then it happened in his cranial brain, which affected his upper body. Someone “candling” his egg would’ve noticed he moved less and less as his muscles tightened up.

Certain areas in his cranial brain failed to mature and migrate properly. The areas responsible for cognition got hit the hardest by that, which would lead to him having an unnatural fear response cycle (not enough emotional area connections to his tiny amygdala-equivalent), trouble with perception / spacial awareness and difficulty processing information. The areas of his brain that didn’t form properly linked up in a new way, and that led to his unusual hyperthymestic memory. It literally looks like a bridge of neurons across the bottom of his brain and functions like a human hippocampus.

Guess what’s parked on top of that? His dinky bundle of amygdala-equivalent neurons. There’s only 1 bundle, whereas humans have 2. Those neurons aren’t connected with the rest of his brain, but they do connect to his brain stem, so they work a bit like 2 cords side by side that plug into the same wall outlet. The outlet is his brain stem. It’s why stimuli trigger physiological changes associated with fear, but not the emotion itself. So young Godzilla lacked the instinct to flee any danger, but felt his heart speed up, felt his breathing get faster and became more alert. Then he got angry because he was annoyed by the sudden bump of alertness.

Godzillasaurs don’t have a cerebral cortex as we know it. Still, their brains are arranged with bundles of neurons that function with similar complexity to more evolved animals. Maybe, if they had survived to evolve like the apes did, they might have come close to or matched humans in terms of intelligence.

Post-mutation, Godzilla’s cranial brain seems small and simple at a glance (It’s about the size of a classic Volkswagen van), but someone weighing it would be surprised by its mass. He developed a neocortex with shallow gyri and sulci that function similarly to human frontal, temporal, occipital and parietal lobes. It’s because of this that he’s capable of “higher thought” beyond what he could do as an unmutated godzillasaur, such as thinking about the future and being able to “question” things. (His equivalent of going “wait, is it a good idea to do that?” Usually he does whatever *that* is anyway…but the ability to wonder if he should is one he didn't have before! So when he looks back in his memory he asks himself questions he would’ve asked at those times if he could.)

Now, remember his dinky bundle of amygdala-equivalent neurons? They branched out to connect with his hippocampus-equivalent and it’s why trauma triggers an emotional fear response instead of just the physiological part, but other stimuli only set off the physiological response.

Godzilla grew a very primitive limbic system. It’s because of this that he connects more deeply to an emotional range he wasn’t wholly capable of pre-mutation. Part of that was his ABI, so the mutation helped connect areas in his brain that weren’t connected before.

These brain changes happened rapidly over a span of days, hence the temporary deafness and blindness Godzilla struggled through as his body changed. The tonic-clonic and myoclonic seizures he endured came from the already-damaged areas of his brain migrating (which irritated surrounding tissues) and new neurons growing so fast they sheared themselves apart.

The seizures both intensified his hyperthymestic memory and exacerbated the ABI-related cognitive issues he already has. His “hippocampus” bridge was encoded with all this trauma between seizures, which allowed it to connect with the emotional areas of his brain to create the circuit where trauma leads to a proper fear response. He hasn’t had a seizure since his mutation completed, but his bouts of clonus (shaking / twitching) and full body spasms (random tensing up) can look like one. He has more all-over spasms when he’s fatigued, the clonus just happens randomly.

Godzilla’s intelligence is average for his species, but the issues caused by his ABI post-mutation mask it. He would have a pretty serious case of dyscalculia, no sense of direction and a complete inability to read maps or numbers if he was human. The only reason he has any sense of direction is because he uses his hyperthymestic memory, the horizons and Earth’s magnetic fields to navigate his old migration routes by feel. A strong magnetic pull can throw him way off course. He can recall sequences of actions perfectly because his autobiographical memory is always recording things, and the right stimuli make him recall it.

And those weird extraordinary abilities mask his struggles. If he was human he would get misdiagnosed as intellectually disabled due to presenting in such an unusual way. He’s cognitively disabled.

Kaijuologists miss the cognitive issues because Godzilla doesn’t live in a world where his cognitive struggles interfere as much. He doesn’t speak our words or think like us, so it’s hard to tell a species thing, apart from his personality, instincts and a cognition issue. Testing him and Shezilla together would make his issues and their personalities glaringly obvious. (Godzilla tends to be blunt and brusque, Shezilla is inquisitive and analytical.)

Godzilla gets stuck mentally, but to an observing human it looks like he is suddenly angry for no reason because he gets a specific expression on his face when it happens. It’s a sneer coupled with a frowning, wide-eyed thousand yard stare that could peel the paint right off a car.

This “stuck” condition has to do with how he processes information, his spacial awareness, the environment not matching up to what he thinks should be there and his inability to suss out what’s different or why it’s different.

Example 1: (With family)

There’s a boulder formation on the island he, Shezilla and Filia call home. He looks at it a lot. One day he leaves to feed on something radioactive.

Filia starts playing around on the boulders and accidentally knocks one of them behind a bigger one, so it’s no longer visible. She runs off to do something else.

Godzilla comes back, looks at the boulder formation and sees something is different. But he can’t figure out what that difference is, even as he stares at the gap where the missing boulder should be. He remembers it was there, but his mind doesn’t click in with what happened. That’s a spacial awareness issue tangling up with his memory.

He gets really mad because he knows something is wrong and can’t figure out what it is!

Shezilla goes up to Godzilla and tells him what’s wrong because she knows that frown with wide open eyes means the gears in his head are stuck. Telling him what’s wrong gets him unstuck before he flies into a rage. The temper tantrum is disarmed.

Nobody has to put the rock back because that’s not the problem. Godzilla’s brain is a bit like HTML text page where the missing boulder is somebody forgot to close a <b> tag in the title, so the whole page ends up with bold text. All Shezilla does by telling him it was moved is give him the </b> tag. Now he can understand what’s different and why.

Putting the boulder back will also get him unstuck since it “fixes” the “broken picture” he’s stuck trying to process. It doesn’t matter if it’s upside down or facing a different directly entirely, it just has to be there.

He wouldn’t have had the problem if all the boulders got moved, because then the whole picture is changed instead of just a small part. Big changes make him go “wow, wtf?”, but smaller ones cause him to get stuck.

Example 2: (Alone)

Being hyperthymestic causes Godzilla to get lost in his memory a lot. It’s not quite maladaptive daydreaming because he’s mentally going over another part of his life.

He goes foraging in Tokyo, but his mind is traveling millions of years ago to when he walked among trees many times taller than him. He loses track of what’s real and what’s recollection. His mind’s eye sees trees, not buildings.

Then a maser cannon zaps him in the chest, abruptly yanking him to the present. He sees the buildings instead of the trees. He doesn’t know where the trees went, so he knocks a building down thinking the forest is right behind it. And it isn’t.

Now there’s a bunch of maser tanks, missiles, artillery, etc slamming into Godzilla. It’s a bombardment of bright lights, smoke / gunpowder smells and loud noise while he’s already confused about where he is in time, so on top of being confused he’s now in sensory overload too.

He gets pissed off because he can’t find the forest he remembers and he can’t think his way through what is past and what is now with all the chaos being thrown at him. The tantrum* kicks in. He smashes everything in sight, screams at the JSDF that he’s lost and destroys more of the city out of spite because nobody is there to tell him the forest he’s looking for is long gone. He thinks it’s hidden in or behind the big buildings, and no it doesn’t occur to him that a whole forest can’t fit inside / behind a building that’s as tall as he is. That’s a hint of the spacial awareness issue.

So he smashes buildings and there is no forest. It takes a lot of smashing and stomping for him to realize there isn’t a forest hidden in the city.

The tantrum cools his rage enough to think clearly again, but it’s mentally and emotionally exhausting. Giving up isn’t something Godzilla likes to do. In this case, he has to, because all the activity has his heartrate up and his chest hurts. That’s always his warning sign to chill out.

Godzilla takes out a nuclear reactor, feeds and leaves. He’s irritable and sore as he swims away. He gets home to his island, which has a beautiful forest. The environment matches his memory again, so he calms down and goes to sleep.

* It’s not like an autistic meltdown at all. Godzilla doesn’t have control of whether or not he has a tantrum once his temper explodes, but he can choose how he responds to it. He chooses to yell, smash stuff and make a mess. Sensory overload is painful, confusing and annoying to him, but sensory overload alone won’t make him lose control of himself. He just smashes everything around him until he stops whatever’s causing it.

If Shezilla is in the city with Godzilla, she can calm him down and lead him away without as much destruction. No matter how mad he gets Godzilla will never purposely try to injure his own family members, and Shezilla knows this. She knows how to talk to him and help him get in line with the present. (And by ‘talk’ I mean communicating in Old Tongue. :P)

Example 3: (Alone)

I’m gonna borrow from my Shrinking Project fanfic to say it’s possible to make Godzilla shut down mentally and emotionally by taking him through a lot of rapid changes in a short period of time. This is the worst way he gets stuck mentally and it’s the hardest for him to deal with.

So tiny!Godzilla is plucked up out of the ocean after being hit by the shrink ray. He wakes up on a lab table to giant humans staring down at him. Goro, the aggressive one, throws his arms up in an attempt to intimidate. Godzilla reacts to that by getting pissed off and asking the guy what he thinks he’s doing.

Goro keeps escalating Godzilla, and then Reiko suddenly comes over with a tank of gas that knocks him out. Godzilla wakes up in an enclosure that’s all plain surfaces. It’s unfamiliar and strange.

A lot of things happen between that enclosure and the main laboratory. Then Reiko smuggles Godzilla out, so he ends up in a dark shoebox. Dark is scary to him, so he scrapes holes in the box to get some light. He goes from the shoebox to Reiko’s bathtub.

The environment never stays stable. He’s always finding himself somewhere completely new with new information to process. It’s stressful. He gets exhausted.

So Godzilla lays down wherever he is and turns inward. No matter where he is, he will slip into a deep sleep because he no longer has the capacity to deal with what’s going on.

If he’s allowed to sleep it off, he’ll be fine when he wakes up because sleep is how he rests his brain. If he’s awakened and disturbed, he is sluggish and depressed due to his ability to think / process information being greatly diminished.

Now, Godzilla won’t be processing much if he’s chasing an enemy through various environments or seeking sustenance. Giving him a goal gives him something concrete to focus on. But if there’s no goal and several rapid changes happen quickly, it’s like ripping apart a puzzle he’s trying to finish and making him start over. Eventually, he’ll flip the table and refuse to start over again, and that is his brain shutting down.

The best thing anyone can do, whether it’s humans or Shezilla, is to leave him alone when he curls up on the ground. He needs that shutdown sleep. If something like that happened around Shezilla in an inopportune place, she would tell Godzilla this isn’t the best place to sleep and take him somewhere better. If it’s humans handling a tiny!Godzilla, putting him somewhere quiet and dark and not disturbing him at all is the best way to help him recover.

This situation is the kind of stuck where only time will get him unstuck.

Godzilla can eventually solve most problems on his own. If it’s not a life or death situation he’ll let it go once he’s done being pissed off about being stuck on it.

In Godzilla vs MechaGodzilla II he gets mad because he can’t find Baby. He throws a tantrum and trashes part of the city before he leaves. Later, he decides that if he smashes MechaGodzilla, he’ll be able to get to Baby. And that’s what happened. Humans would say that’s not correct, that MechaGodzilla wasn’t holding Baby prisoner, but Godzilla saw MechaGodzilla as a metal abomination getting between him and another of his kind. He removed the obstacle and Miki Saegusa led him to Baby.

SpaceGodzilla imprisoned LittleGodzilla, so Godzilla smashes through a city in a rage to reach SpaceGodzilla. He figured out that SpaceGodzilla was using a tower as an energy source like he uses radiation, so he destroyed the tower. Killing SpaceGodzilla nullified his crystals, which set LittleGodzilla free.

Godzilla’s problem solving is slow and depends on the situation, but 99% of the time he eventually gets his brain unstuck. Sometimes he thinks fast and comes up with a solution right away, sometimes he doesn’t.

That doesn’t mean he’s totally unable to get himself unstuck or solve a problem, it’s just easier if someone is there to help him get unstuck. It saves him the grief of being confused for however long it takes before he figures the issue out or lets a minor thing go.

Godzilla’s motor issues

I ran with Godzilla’s neurological movement issues by taking the stiffness of the Godzilla suits or the quirks of animatronics as aspects of his character.

It would be technically incorrect to say he has cerebral palsy because he doesn’t have a cerebral cortex as we know it (in his skull brain or his spinal brain!), but the chronic hypoxia in early life affected his muscles and movements in a manner much like spastic cerebral palsy in humans. The son of my kaijuologist character in my WIP Shrinking Project fic mentions knowing somebody with CP, so that’s sort of how I let the audience in on the similarity. Godzilla refers to it as his Palsy and that’s how it goes.

He’s very hypertonic, his range of motion is limited and he can have some brutally painful muscle spasms. He wakes up very stiff and sore most of the time, though it’s worse if he slept for long periods without moving in between, and he will stretch and move until he loosens up to his version of normal.

Godzilla has opposable thumbs and has enough dexterity to unscrew things and use a pinch grip, however it’s a lot of work to make his hands do fine motor tasks. His hands “like” to be in fists or cupped, and it’s a conscious effort on his part to splay his fingers.

He gets clonus in some circumstances, usually when he’s stiff after a long sleep. It happens slow enough to look like a twitchy voluntary movement due to his massive size. It’s more obvious when he’s tiny. He just sort of ignores it unless it hurts, then he might turn his head and growl at the offending muscle group.

The spinal brain was affected by the hypoxia, too. It helps control the lower half of his body, and having it is the reason he can walk at all. He walks with a stiff gait because he leans on his tail like a cane or crutch. He likes to be sure his feet are solidly connected to the ground when he steps. He isn’t able to run or leap because he doesn’t have the gross motor coordination to pull it off without falling on his face. He can, however, hop or bounce. Neither of those actions are energy efficient, so he tends to reserve those to express excitement or happiness. Sometimes hopping and flailing his arms happen due to an exaggerated startle reflex or as an involuntary whole body spasm in response to pain.

The secret to Godzilla’s ridiculous physical strength is that he uses his spasticity the way an archer uses a bow and arrow. He lets the resistance in his muscles build and BAM releases it so his muscles snap into the positions they ‘want’ to be in. This works for throwing things, it goes for punches, kicks, tail smacks and his famous shoulder ram.

The same stiff muscles that make him so clumsy on land make him an excellent swimmer underwater. He likes being in the water because his body listens to him more there than on land. That’s because his tail is pretty much under his full control and that’s what he uses to swim, so in the water he can go exactly where he wants when he wants.

And finally, his skeleton is basically one giant internal orthotic device. His big, buff muscles don’t deform his skeleton because his skeleton is “telling” his muscles to stay in the right places. Sometimes he will tear muscles, ligaments or tendons, but his mutated regenerative abilities repair the damage in minutes to hours. He may temporarily lose the use of a muscle group until the damage heals.

Godzilla is somewhat aware that he is disabled; he recognizes that it’s hard to move and get his body to obey his brain. He doesn’t really see his limited range of motion as abnormal. In his mind, everybody is different and it’s what makes him different.

Before his mutation, back when he was an itty bitty baby godzillasaur, his parents used their teeth to gently tug his tail, arms and legs into their proper positions and taught him how to walk and use his hands. They didn’t leave him to die because he was their only surviving egg and they wanted to give him a chance at life. After his mom died, his dad took over in keeping him out of trouble and out of the jaws of predators. Young Godzilla learned all the stretch moves he does after waking up from his dad, and he still does them millions of years later! :)

Adapting is something he had to do all his life, so he’ll find ways to accomplish a goal he’s set his mind to. If he has to go 100 miles out of his way to get around a mountain he can’t climb, he’s going to walk those 100 miles. The cognitive issues will delay him because he’ll try to scramble up the mountain and fall a bunch of times before he changes his approach.

Buuuut if somebody makes Godzilla angry enough to go around a mountain to have a “friendly chat” with them, they are going to have a bad day when he gets there.

Godzilla’s hyperthymesia

Godzilla is hyperthemestic, which basically means he has an extreme autobiographical memory. It goes back further than hyperthymestic humans because he can remember all the way back to the day he hatched from his egg.

It is a cool ability; he remembers every step he has taken in his life. He remembers every meal he ate, what the weather was while he ate it, who was with him, where he was and whether or not he liked what he ate. If he could talk and understand the concepts of dates, months, years and clock times, he would be able to tell you what day of the week any calendar date will fall on in any given year. If he could read, he would have entire books memorized.

He remembers old migration routes and territories in relation to Earth’s magnetic fields, so he will patrol them by “feel” even though Earth’s magnetic fields have shifted over time. This can lead to him traversing into populated areas or wandering seemingly nowhere. His travels have a purpose that are driven partly by instinct and partly by the desire to find the world he knew before the Fireball killed everything.

The downside is the stream of memories tend to intrude on his everyday life. He may appear to be doing nothing when he stares off into space, but he is actually daydreaming his way through a memory from a few minutes ago or millions of years ago. There are some memories he doesn’t enjoy reliving, but they loop up. It’s not uncommon for a modern day experience to trigger one, but they can bubble up on their own.

A sufficient distraction usually breaks him out of this, such as a fight or painful stimuli. Sometimes he causes himself pain on purpose to get out of a memory he doesn’t want to relive. He does it by throwing his head forward to trigger his most painful back spasms. It looks like an aggressive mood, or like he’s screaming at nothing.

He is always comparing modern day to the world he knew before the asteroid that ended the dinosaurs (Fireball). Sometimes he will wander into a city while deep in a recollection and only realize it’s not the forests he grew up in when the tanks start shooting.

As you can imagine, it gets frustrating for him. One moment he swears he is lying safe between his parents or wrestling with Shezilla, and in the next he gets a face full of missiles.

His cognitive issues sometimes cause him to get confused between reality and memory. He’ll freak out thinking the modern time is the memory and not know why the forests he’s familiar with aren’t reappearing. He sorts himself out eventually, but it’s an emotionally painful sorting because he misses the world that made sense to him. Our world is too chaotic and strange.

The only human capable of understanding how Godzilla’s memory works is Miki Saegusa, the psychic who knows how to read his mind and make sense of his thoughts. He talks to Miki a lot through his memories and he has been telling her his life story in piecemeal bits for years.

She senses his location because he tugs on her mind and broadcasts where he is by how ‘loud’ his memories are. Human minds are like candles and Godzilla’s is a bonfire. He is easy to sense because his light and heat drown everything else out.

Miki can pick Godzilla up from across the globe if he decides to broadcast because his mind is so strong. It took her awhile to get used to that tugging feeling, but it stopped scaring her a long time ago.

Mutating was traumatic to Godzilla and it changed how his disability affects him.

Godzilla’s mutation actually gave him mobility he didn’t have before. Pre-mutation, his arms were almost useless by early adulthood due to contractures despite his dad’s best efforts to help him exercise them.

Clenching one’s fists tight takes effort, right? Clenched fists are Godzilla’s default. He uses that same clenching effort to open his fingers. They never really relax. His parents (when both were alive) taught him to keep his hands open and wiggle his fingers every now and then so they don’t get stuck as clenched fists. It became a habit, so he does it more or less without thinking even after his mutation.

The same effort didn’t transfer to his arms, unfortunately. They were curling up tighter and atrophying from contractures as he aged, but the mutation process changed that. His hands still really, really, really ‘want’ to be in fists all the time.

Post-mutation Godzilla has pretty decent hand dexterity and opposable thumbs. It’s easier for him to grasp things than it is to let go of them. Few realize the focused effort he puts into using his hands because he makes moving them look easy. It’s not. There is no incidence of moving his body that’s easy for him, but he doesn’t see it as effort because it’s his normal.

The mutation from a godzillasaur into Godzilla pushed his bones and muscles into a new formation, which is why he stands upright instead of tilted forward. Of course, this caused a different setup of mobility issues.

Godzilla was pretty much comatose when the Futurians teleported him somewhere else in time. He regained consciousness when he landed on spent radioactive waste on the seafloor, which caused a bright flash of light. Then he passed out again and finally woke up to the pain of his body mutating.

He felt his internal organs changing. He felt his bones and muscles stretching. His skin / scales literally split like ripped clothes because of his rapid growth and his hide grew back as keloid-like scar tissue, giving it a pitted appearance. His whole surface feels like a big scab and it’s his biggest, most visible scar.

Godzilla spent several days totally deaf and blind because his eyes, ears and brain were the last parts of him to complete the mutation process. He crawled around on the seafloor like Kamata-kun from Shin Godzilla until he realized he could use his arms again.

He had to figure out the tingly feeling in the roof of his mouth meant Sustenance was nearby, and he had to learn he could absorb it by touching it.

He made himself sick eating dirt off the seafloor for awhile because he got hungry while his stomach was still changing. He threw up a lot of blood during that time because he was experiencing radiation poisoning that healed as fast as it harmed due to his mutated healing abilities.

He ran fevers. He couldn’t eat. He had seizures as his neurons multiplied, which damaged his redeveloping brain as much as the chronic hypoxia that affected him in his youth.

The most painful part aside from muscular-skeletal growth was the formation of his nuclear gland that acts like his internal nuclear reactor. It’s actually cancer that his body adapted to keep him alive instead of kill him, and his radioactivity prevents it from metastasizing to kill him the way cancer normally kills. That organ tore a lot of nerves and forced his internal organs to rearrange around it. It leeches nutrients from his body if he doesn’t absorb enough radiation to keep cell division and cell death on an even keel. He can temporarily get around this by eating meat like he used to, such as whales, but it’s not long-term sustainable.

Walking became more difficult. His legs were in a new position and his center of gravity moved to a slightly different place. He never wholly gets used to that, so he loses his balance a lot.

He was still mastering his ability to walk again when he showed up on Japan’s shores in 1984. Sadly, the humans didn’t understand him when he asked if they saw his dad. Instead, he ended up in a volcano. He got a lot of practice walking while stuck in Mt. Mihara, so he was better at it when he emerged from there later.

The mutation process is an extremely traumatic memory for Godzilla, and he remembers every conscious second of it due to his hyperthymestic memory. It’s why being thrust into darkness against his will terrifies him; he thinks any darkness he doesn’t go into himself will hurt.

If you want to see Godzilla freak out into a terrified panic, let him go to sleep somewhere with light and wake him up in pitch darkness. He’ll screech. He’ll vomit due to the psychosomatic association, crap all over himself and flail around, slamming into things he can’t see as he scrambles to find a source of light.

The trauma is so intense to him that he temporarily forgets he can create his own light. He feels phantom pains like the pain he felt when his whole body changed. Then his heartbeat goes wonky, which triggers more pain, which triggers even more freaking out until he loses consciousness or spits out his atomic beam and assures himself that he can still see something.

The tiniest speck of light will turn off the panic reaction in the snap of a finger. He’ll cry when the fear passes.

The worst part is the meddling of the Futurians deprived him of his dad’s comfort during it all. They went through it together on the island before the Futurians got involved. His dad held his hand through the whole thing even though he was in terrible pain himself.

Instead, they got separated. The ‘54 Goji went ashore looking for his missing son and died for his efforts. Godzilla turned up in ‘84 looking for his missing dad and got dropped in a volcano for his efforts.

Godzilla is very aware of what he’s become because of the Change. He relived it all when he saw Shindo’s face inside his own reflection. It’s why he gave that deep, tired, sad sigh.

He knows what he is and that he can’t be what he was.

Old Tongue

Old Tongue is the language of godzillasaurs. They’re born knowing it, it’s instinctual and it’s not a language humans can really learn. It is a combination of vocalizations, facial expressions and gestures.

(Flashing lights warning)

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Can we communicate with him in Old Tongue? The short answer is…not very well. We could get very, very, very basic things across, like “I’m not a threat to you”, but a true conversation is impossible because there are nuances we, as humans, can’t replicate.

A lot of nuances are lost to humans because godzillasaurs emit sound frequencies outside our range of hearing. Sometimes Godzilla may not appear to be making sounds when he actually is.

He makes a lot of squeaks, whines, groans and trills that can only be picked up by the right audio equipment.

Godzilla is aware that humans only respond to some of his sounds. He thinks we’re deaf with such a limited hearing range, and he’s also aware that our communication is different from his.

But let’s imagine humans are the same size as Godzilla for a moment and we’re at eye level with him. Can we goof up communication? Yup!

Godzilla isn’t threatened by eye contact like most other animals. If he looks at you, he will look you up and down because he’s paying attention to your whole body.

If he snorts as he’s looking at you, he’s telling you he’s addressing you. If you turn your back to him, he will roar. Turning your back when addressed is rude and vulgar, like a middle finger. Don’t do that!

So you don’t turn away, you tilt your head down instead while still looking at his eyes because you’re unsure. That’s going to make him square up because that is a gesture of distrust. If you bare your teeth, he’s going to charge because you’re signaling that you’re here to fight.

If you walk closer to him while keeping eye contact, he will think you’re looking for sex or a fight. It won’t take him longer than a second to know you’re not looking for sex. If you dare to show your teeth, he’ll smack you off your feet for challenging him.

Maybe you’re eating a snack. Let him sniff it. Godzillasaurs lived in pods like lion prides, whoever had food shared it with everybody else. Greed is rude!

So even if Godzilla won’t like your cookie, he will appreciate that you offered so he could decline.

Your back itches and you can’t reach it. He will come over and scratch it, then offer his back to you. Go on and scratch it! Godzillasaurs groomed parasites off each other, so return the favor. Refusing is mildly rude, it hurts a bit like ignoring someone who opened their arms to hug you.

Can Godzilla learn some of our gestures? Yeah!

He points to things with his snout, but grasps that humans use their hands and fingers.

You’re bobbing your head to some good music? He’s going to copy you because those strange noises are fun.

He will figure out pretty quick that waving is a gesture of greeting and farewell.

Btw a greeting in Old Tongue is a chuffing noise similar to a tiger. This is one instance where you can say “hi” properly by imitating the chuffing sound. It’ll delight him!

All in all, communication with Godzilla would be very basic at best. You can’t take a word in any human language and translate it into Old Tongue.

Old Tongue can be translated into human languages if someone who speaks both can find a way how, but 1) the possibility of a human being Old Tongue capable is almost zero and 2) it’s very imprecise and the translations are more like a description of the meaning behind the communication. So whoever translates it will have to say it in a way that makes sense to whoever they’re translating for.

Trying to copy Old Tongue without knowing what you’re doing is like meowing back at your cat. Godzilla will laugh at you because you’re saying gibberish.

Btw Miki Saegusa recognizes Godzilla speaks a language, but she can’t quite understand it enough to translate it. He knows this so he talks to her through images and emotions.

How Shezilla takes it.

How did Shezilla learn about Godzilla’s disability? She asked him why he didn’t run and jump like her, and he told her about the Palsy. She had no idea what that was, so he showed her.

He tried to jump forward as far as he could and nearly face-planted after a very short hop.

He made a valiant attempt climb the rocky cliffs circling around the center of their island; he showed he couldn’t raise his upper arms higher than his shoulders and didn’t have the motor control to vault himself up onto a chin-high cliff like Shezilla could, but he was able to awkwardly scramble over anything knee-high or lower.

Then he tried to run, made it a few steps and went down face first into the sand as soon as he picked his tail up to remove his ‘crutch’. He happened to crash on the one spot on the beach with slippery rocks where getting up wasn’t easy. That was a pretty bad fall for him.

Shezilla was alarmed, of course, and bent over to make sure he was okay. She licked the tiny drops of blood off the end of his snout because he hit the ground that hard. His dad showed him how to turn sideways when he fell to avoid hitting his nose, but he went straight down anyway to truthfully show her why he didn’t run.

Shezilla realized he couldn’t reach the beautiful tropical rainforest and brilliant blue lake in the middle of their island. She had planned to show it to him. She felt a little sorry for him as she watched him thrash his tail and slip while trying to get back up.

Godzilla paused a moment to rest and straight up asked her if she still wanted him after knowing about his Palsy. The question didn’t come from a place of insecurity or shame, since those sorts of feelings about disability were a thing humans bestowed on each other. He asked out of honesty, because he wasn’t sure if any babies they had would inherit it.

Shezilla’s pity dissolved right there because he showed her exactly who he was in those short few moments and that made her love him more. She laughed, helped him up and told him he had eyes, fingers, toes, teeth and a tail in all the right places, so there wasn’t a problem. That answer showed Godzilla exactly who she was, and that made him love her more.

Shezilla offered to not run or jump around him if seeing her do it reminded him of what he couldn’t do. Godzilla said no, she could run and leap whenever she wanted because he loved watching her be graceful. Doing those things showed off her muscles, and he loved that about her!

But Shezilla wanted Godzilla to see the beautiful place in the middle of their island, a place inaccessible to him due to the terrain, so she came up with a plan.

She waited for him to go to sleep and set to work digging / breath-blasting a notch through the cliffs. She arranged the biggest blasted pieces all over the rocky slippery spot in the sand. That way, Godzilla had something to grab onto and get up if he took another spill there. (Cuz sometimes that happened.)

When Godzilla woke up, she showed him what she did and took him through the notch she made. Something about her Fire felt different that early morning, but he couldn’t suss out why because he didn’t have time to ponder it while following her.

Godzilla looked through the mist at this new-to-him part of the island, a spot where the plants were mutated to be bigger than typical plants due to the natural nuclear reactor underground, and his eyes welled up.

The plants were a bit different because of evolution and all that, but the lake was like the shiny rocks he found deep in ocean caves.

The colors, the humidity, the heat, the sounds and the smells reminded him of the Old World he knew before he Fireball destroyed everything. This was the home Godzilla searched for in the strange forests of shiny boxes and weird trees.

Shezilla had no memory of this due to how she was created, but she saw the familiarity in Godzilla’s eyes and knew this mattered to him. She followed him through the beautiful greenery while he told her all the stories he knew about the Old World and she came to realize what her gift meant to him.

And she was glad, because she needed somewhere to call home, too.

Then they had a splash fight in the lake and rolled around in the greenery, and in the midst of their goofing around Shezilla showed Godzilla the nest she dug out near the lakeside. She said this was the perfect place to raise a baby.

And that’s how Godzilla found out he was going to be a dad.

Shezilla’s identity crisis

Poor Shezilla. There’s a period where she swears she lost all her memories somehow because she can’t recall being tiny like Filia. Her first memory is “hatching” fully grown from a metal and glass tank. She came out with a lot of instincts and genetic memories, so she knows things like how to communicate in Old Tongue, how to use her beam, that she needs radiation to survive, etc.

But knowledge-wise, she was a blank slate.

Shezilla is a clone. She was cloned from Godzilla’s cells, but his DNA in his skin cells is so mutated that she might as well be a whole different godzillasaur because she has genetic traits that Godzilla doesn’t, such as smaller dorsal spines, lighter coloring, a more agile build and golden eyes.

She goes through a bit of an identity crisis when she comes to understand she wasn’t born from parents like Godzilla was. She’s terrified that her soul isn’t real. She’s worried that she herself isn’t real enough. For a time she expected the Stars to wipe her out of existence. When she had Filia, she couldn’t sleep for a few nights because she didn’t want the Stars to take her daughter back as punishment.

Godzilla convinces her that no, she did not choose to exist and only somebody’s own bad choices determine their ultimate fate. Being born wasn’t her choice and neither was how she was born.

He helps Shezilla get through her identity crisis even though he can’t really understand what she’s going through. He tries because he loves her so much and it breaks his heart to see her so scared. Every day he tells her he loves her, that he would always choose her as his one and only, and he reminds her that she’s a fantastic mother to their baby girl.

Shezilla comes around after a long period of soul searching and Godzilla’s reassurance.

Family stuff

Mutated adult godzillasaurs mostly subsist on radioactive materials, but occasionally eat for the taste and enjoyment of eating. They’re considered omnivorous although they prefer meat.

Young godzillasaurs like Filia have to eat to grow and give their body the fuel to go through physical maturation. Radiation is supplemental to support her rapid healing abilities and keep her mutation from killing her. The food to radiation ratios reverse as she gets older and learns how to sense its presence.

Godzillasaurs eat meat by tearing bite sized pieces off and swallowing them whole. Filia doesn’t have enough teeth to take those bites, so right now Godzilla or Shezilla do the biting part. They take a big bite of a whale or whatever, tear it into smaller pieces and feed them to Filia. They pick the meat off bones too, as Filia can’t crunch up large bones and she’s likely to choke.

But if she manages to catch a small animal like a seal or a bird? She can eat that in one gulp and the radiation inside her body will kill it before she starts to digest it. This happens sometimes because she practices hunting by pouncing on or chasing small animals, so a successful catch is like a cookie to her. Her parents take her hunting with them when they’re getting her something to eat and she is learning to hunt by watching them.

Watching Godzilla and Shezilla feed Filia is strikingly similar to watching a parent bird of prey feed its chicks, and it includes all the facial messiness of humans spoon feeding their babies. Whoever feeds her is also in charge of lick-washing her face during the meal to keep her clean. Godzilla and Shezilla trade off on feeding duty, but sometimes they feed Filia together. It’s a very tender and intimate bonding exchange. (And sometimes, mid-meal, Godzilla and Shezilla look at each other in awe, like “we made this baby!”)

Just picture these huge creatures, beings feared by the general public, taking turns slowly bending over with a piece of meat held in their teeth, letting Filia take it and tenderly licking the mess off her face between bites.

The proof that this tenderness is rubbing off is seen best on days when Godzilla is having trouble moving around. He likes to lay down and nap when his body is being crappy about cooperating for him. So Filia will go catch something, maybe a seal or a pelican, or maybe a small octopus, bring it ashore and feed it to her dad with the same gentleness he feeds her. He eats it even though it’s like giving a human a single crumb of something and she washes his face afterward. She thinks she’s helping him, and it melts Godzilla’s heart when his baby girl does that.

Play has different roles…

Godzilla and Shezilla play differently with each other than they do with Filia.

In many ways Godzilla and Shezilla’s roughhousing plays the same role as some forms of dance for humans; it alludes to sex. Once one or the other is pinned, they engage in “suggestive” behaviors like nose nuzzling or nibbling at each other like they do when they’re settling down to mate. Sometimes it leads to that. Sometimes they get up and start again because it’s fun.

When they play around and roughhouse with Filia, they are teaching her how to fight. Filia is getting 2 different fighting styles because her parents don’t fight exactly alike. Shezilla is all about loose speed and surprise. Godzilla is stiff inexorable brute force.

So Filia can try to climb on her dad, and he’ll yank her off, or wrestle her to the ground. That is teaching her how to get rid of somebody hanging onto her. And don’t think climbing up to the back of his neck where his arms don’t reach will work, because he’ll use his tail to bat her off or take a controlled fall to knock her loose.

Filia can try to pounce on her mom, but Shezilla turns at the last second and pins her to the ground. That teaches Filia to pay attention to her opponent’s situational awareness and do a better job of staying hidden until she’s sure she can get the drop on somebody.

There are lots of roars and snarls during play, but they don’t sound threatening. The blows, throws and tail whacks aren’t as hard. Claws don’t dig in and teeth don’t rip out chunks of flesh. Sometimes Godzilla hits hard by accident because controlling his body isn’t easy for him, but he apologizes and Filia understands it was an accident. He has never caused her any serious injuries.

Filia’s fighting style will mature into a mix of her parents as she grows up.

When she is old enough to start going into season, Shezilla will be the one to engage her in “adult play”, which will both teach her how mating works and teach her how to fight off a rude suitor who is too rough or doesn’t get consent first. It’s the godzillasaur equivalent to the sex talk. (Nobody actually mates during this, it’s more of wrestling around and showing her what positions she’ll be in.)

Godzilla will coach her during the game on how an interested suitor will behave, what displays to look for and where to hit to make a rude suitor lose interest if he acts without getting consent.

The fastest way is a nuclear pulse, but that is saved for if the rude guy actually gets their private parts hooked together because that’s painful for both parties. The goal is to stop him before he gets that far. A headbutt to the nose, claws slashing the eyes, throat or armpits, and a point blank beam to the face are pretty effective. Unmutated godzillasaurs did everything except for the beam and nuclear pulse. Sometimes it led to the death of the rude fella since girls had long claws and sometimes ripped out major blood vessels while fighting him off.

If Filia had been a boy, Godzilla would be engaging in the physical part of play while Shezilla explained what to look for when a mate is receptive to display advances. Godzilla would give a very stern warning to never go for it until a mate gives the all clear, because hard physical NOs are painful. The mnemonic in Old Tongue translates to something like “if she doesn’t give you her head, you might as well be dead!” because the girl shows consent by rubbing her head against the guy’s neck like a scentmarking cat. It is totally not okay to continue until she gives that signal. No ifs, ands or buts!

If we step closer to canon and imagine this with Junior, who had no mother present, Godzilla would fulfill both roles of teaching and explaining. This would also apply if something happened to Shezilla and he was the only parent present for Filia, but he would be a lot gentler with the play part.

And btw godzillasaurs in the Old Days were huge on the whole consent thing. Godzillasaurs who didn’t get consent were kicked out of their pods and nobody wanted them. The facial and neck scars on a guy who tried to take a girl against her will were pretty much a visible signal that he didn’t behave himself.

The guys do a lot of the “work” during mating, but it’s the girl who is ultimately in control when they consent. If they are forced into that position, it gets ugly fast. No godzillasaur who tried to force himself on a mate ever succeeded in reproducing because the girls are taught from a young age to kick his ass if he ignores their NO.

Godzillasaurs are animals, they have strong instincts to mate while in season, but they can think about their actions and resist the impulse for gratification if they want to. A godzillasaur with poor sexual impulse control would be a terrible father who sets bad examples anyway.

How they screw! (NSFW)

(I saved this for last. Don’t read past this point if you don’t want to know. I wrote this down because PEOPLE KEPT ASKING HOW, so whoop there it is!)

They’re animals. Huge, mutant radioactive animals. They don’t care who’s watching as long as whoever is in the area doesn’t interfere.

It’s not an emotionless act for them. It’s not always driven by instinct. Sometimes they do it because it feels good.

Godzilla only needed to do his display act the very first time. That was all the muscle flexing, showing off his teeth, showing off his dorsal spines, bringing Shezilla a nuclear reactor to show he can provide for her and hoping she liked what she saw.

Now that they’re established as a couple, they have ways to flirt and signal that they’re in the mood.

Most of the time, they exchange the Old Tongue equivalent of sweet talk. He will tell her she is the brightest star in his sky. She will tell him he is her sky. They hold hands. They snuggle. They entwine their tails. They sleep all curled up around each other.

…And sometimes they tackle each other and roll around being silly because they like to play! (Godzilla is the frequent instigator of play. :) ) Occasionally, their play gets more serious and intimate. Sometimes it’s foreplay.

Before I go on, a wee bit of anatomy / terminology:

Being in season means Shezilla has mature egg cells and Godzilla is mass-producing sperm. This isn’t happening if they aren’t in season.

The only way to tell Shezilla is in season is her scent changes, and humans can smell it. It smells kind of like a stinky summer day dumpster to us, but it’s perfume to Godzilla.

Shezilla goes into season twice a year unless she’s gestating a live egg or raising a baby. It takes her about a month from conception to laying the egg, but she’ll ‘know’ inherently if she’s going to be a mom or not because her body will start diverting radioactivity to her pelvic organs. Being in season for her lasts about a week unless she mates, then it goes away because the deed is done. She gets more laid back when she’s in season because her body tells her to save its energy to mate and grow a baby, but she’ll be very amorous / affectionate if Godzilla is around.

She’ll flirt with him by walking up to him, huffing in his ear and brushing past him as she walks away again. That’s her “Hey, honey, come get me.” He follows her and they…yeah. :P

Godzilla shows it outwardly when he’s in season. His dorsal spines get a bit bigger / spikier and his muscles bulk up and get more defined because it’s the guy’s job to impress the girls, much like many bird species.

The muscular bulking up happens over a period of about 3 months and peaks when he’s in season, then it recedes over another 3 months. The sharpest spikes on his dorsal spines shed off in flakes until they’re back to pre-season size.

Somebody observing him every day may not see it happening unless they take photos and compare. His sperm count rises and the 24 hours where he’s considered in season is when it’s at its highest, so it triggers the hormones that tell him to pass those genes on. He gets really frigging horny.

He goes into season once a year for about a day unless Shezilla is around. Mating triggers it to stop, same as with her. He’ll cycle in and out of season with her cycles because her pheromones trigger sperm production. Shezilla being around accelerates the processes that make his body go into season so he can be ready when she is, so it looks like his going in and out of season is on fast-forward. His dorsal spines will stay spiky, too, rather than shedding off later.

An in-season Godzilla is grumpy and a tad aggressive because of sexual frustration (major urge, no relief), but that stops when Shezilla is around or it goes away by itself within 24 hours because his hormone spike ends. His in-season period is so short because his radiation kills a lot of the sperm, which ends the hormone surge. Pre-mutation, his in-season period lasted a week.

He flirts with Shezilla by flexing his muscles and batting his eyes at her as he walks by. That’s his “Hey, babe, I want you.” She jumps at him, which sometimes knocks him off his feet and they…yeah. :P

Their cloacal vents are right in front of where their tails split off their bodies. You have to be standing directly underneath them while they stand upright to see the slit in their hide because the muscles keep it tightly shut when not in use, as that keeps out infections and other nasty stuff. This is important for positioning when they mate because they do it via the aptly named cloacal kiss.

You can trigger Godzilla’s vent to open by squeezing the base of his tail where it joins his body. It’s an infantile reflex he retained due to his Palsy, whereas in typical godzillasaurs it goes away when they grow in their first full set of teeth. When he was little his parents stimulated him to go to the bathroom and cleaned him up afterward. That reflex is still active, too, but he won’t go on you unless you wipe him with a warm wet sponge to simulate mommy cleaning him up. It’s like helping newborn kitten void wastes.

This does NOT trigger sexual sensations, you need suction to do that because of how his body’s sexual response cycle works.

ANYWAY…

—–

Now for how they do it.

Shezilla’s dorsal spines are smaller and able to sink a little into her back because she lays supine and Godzilla gets on top of her. The rounder tips allow her dorsal spines to support her weight or sink into what she’s laying on if it’s soft enough. It doesn’t hurt her to lay on her back unless she’s slammed down, but Godzilla doesn’t do that because he’s not an overeager jerk. ;)

An able bodied godzillasaur would squat here, but Godzilla can’t do that, so he gets onto his hands and knees and Shezilla grabs him just below the armpits with her claws to help him get into position. Her knees get pushed apart and upward to rest against his hips.

They wiggle until their vents line up. Godzilla everts the muscular inner walls of his cloaca into Shezilla’s vent, her muscles grab onto it and they hook up and seal together like the space shuttle to the ISS.

Godzilla lays all the way down until they are chest to chest and cheek to cheek. His hands go behind Shezilla’s shoulders, though sometimes he holds onto them, and she slides her hands forward to grip the backs of his shoulders. That’s a perk of his disability– they’re able to embrace each other and be really close while they mate.

Shezilla’s cloaca muscles tighten and initiate suction, and that is what stimulates Godzilla’s sexual response cycle into action. He’ll reach orgasm* in about 1 minute, but it will take longer than that for his semen to get down and out so an orgasm for him can last 5 to 6 minutes while in season and 3 to 4 when he isn’t.

Godzilla gets a burst of oxytocin when he nuts. With every squirt he shoots a backyard swimming pool’s worth of semen with the force of a fire hose at full blast. It happens in several bursts over a span of 5 to 6 minutes when he’s in season. Sometimes it’s so intense he shivers and sees stars.

He has to shoot hard. There’s a lot of ground to cover once the sperm is sent on its mission.

Shezilla’s coiled up oviducts are as long as an American football field when uncoiled. The ducts widen themselves as much as possible, so Godzilla’s stuff has to get pretty far in on its own to have a chance to hit the mark.

Shezilla’s body reacts with a burst of oxytocin at the first squirt of semen and stronger muscle contractions to pull the fluid towards her ovaries. She sucks it up as he pumps it out and it’s a suction strong enough to take the air from somebody’s lungs and burst their eardrums. Her orgasm is as intense and long as his and she finishes after him because he gets a head start. Sometimes her eyes roll back because it’s that dang good.

He can tell by her breathing and the eye rolling that she’s enjoying it. She knows he’s enjoying it when his back muscles spasm. That’s something felt, not really seen.

For them, there is no situation where one comes and the other doesn’t. Actually, his causes hers. They go into a trancelike state so they don’t pop apart too soon or accidentally hurt each other. The more still they are, the better it feels. Sometimes they look at each other and fall into each others’ eyes, other times they close their eyes and nuzzle noses.

When they’re done, they feel giddy and the “high” from all those neurotransmitters and it hangs around for around 15 to 30 minutes. They will be in a really good mood, which is evident by either a rambunctious bout of play or they groom each other and cuddle.

Aaaand that’s it. They’re finished doing the deed.

They can mate pretty much anywhere if Shezilla can comfortably lay back. On land, underwater, it doesn’t matter. Their favorite way to do it is in the surf– a kaiju recreation of From Here To Eternity, only he’s the one on top and they’re screwing instead of smooching.

Now, is it possible to interrupt the act? Yes and no. You can ruin the good feelings by interrupting them, since it yanks them out of the trance and cuts off the endorphins. They can separate if they have to, but Godzilla is going to be spraying everywhere because he can’t stop that process once it starts and it is messy. (Also, for him, embarrassing!)

But you’re more likely to get hit with a nuclear pulse from both of them. They zone out, but they stay aware of their environment and can respond to a threat if necessary. Shezilla can sweep the sky with her beam, and Godzilla can sweep the ground with his.

Really, it’s best not to disrupt them. They don’t respond kindly to coitus interruptus.

* Orgasms for them are a biological necessity that gets all their fluids where they’re supposed to go. It makes the mating process pleasant so they have the drive to keep doing it when their instincts say it’s baby making time.

—-

So why aren’t there a bunch of babies running around? Good question.

Unfortunately, Godzilla’s and Shezilla’s sex cells are so mutated that conceiving Filia was a literal 1 in a billion chance where 2 sex cells without too much genetic damage made contact. That doesn’t stop them from trying anyway, because for them sex is intimate and enjoyable, and instinct drives them to do it when their bodies tell them they’re “fertile”.

Godzilla’s mutation killed one testicle entirely. The one that works barely works, but still churns out a lot of sperm. His sperm morphology is a mess. It’s super hyperactive, so looking at a sample under the microscope is like watching a cloud of gnats flit around. Getting an accurate count is impossible. Speculation is it’s in the trillions. Some of his sperm cells can have up to 4 tails pointing 4 different ways and can’t go anywhere fast, those are the slowest moving ones. Others have a tail that’s too small, or it has 2 heads, or they’re totally misshapen and missing genetic material entirely. Some have a mid-piece that’s too short, too long or a weird shape. The healthiest cells that can make the swim carry damaged genes that can’t create a new life. The cells missing genes entirely (empty) tend to die as soon as they leave his body.

Godzilla’s blood is dangerously radioactive, but his semen is worse. It glows soft green in the dark until it dries. (His blood doesn’t.) It gets thicker as it dries and turns into a flaky paste. If it’s inside Shezilla’s body, it forms a mucus plug to keep the live sperm from seeping back out, but she may still dribble a few drops when she stands up after they mate.

But Godzilla’s semen is more radioactive than polonium-210, which is one of the most radioactive substances around. It’s a very strong alpha, beta and gamma emitter, though gamma is the ‘weakest’ output. You’ll 100% get skin cancer if it gets on bare skin unless you wash it off immediately. Wet or dry, it doesn’t matter. Get a lot of it on you (ie a spill) or get some in an open wound and you die. Inhale a flake that’s floating in the air because you didn’t wear a dust mask and you die of cancer later. If you’re enough of a doofus to eat or drink it, you’re really gonna die because alpha radiation is the most dangerous when it gets inside your body. I won’t even think about the beta and gamma you’re getting too. Yikes.

Shezilla’s egg cells tend to die or get damaged as they mature. It’s impossible to get a sample from her, but it’s safe to say her internal radioactivity damages the genes and it’s not likely she’ll have any more babies. The “dud” eggs she lays occasionally are just as dangerous as Godzilla’s semen, more so after it’s broken open. Same deal– don’t get any goo on your skin, and don’t try to make an omelette unless you have a miserable death wish.

After Filia, every other time sperm and egg cells meet leads to instant apoptosis. If Shezilla lays an egg, it’s a dud– just the chorion, amnion, and allantois without an embryo, similar to a human molar pregnancy. She knows it’s empty because of the lack of radiation diversion before laying, so she will eat the egg to replenish the nutrients lost when her body formed it. Godzilla doesn’t watch that part.

If Filia is around, Shezilla saves part of the shell for her to eat. Filia ate her own eggshell after she hatched because it’s nutritious, so eating some from a ‘dud’ egg is like a little vitamin boost for her.

Btw, Filia doesn’t hang around and watch her parents do it. She isn’t quite old enough to understand what they’re doing; she thinks they’re taking a funny nap. They taught her to leave them alone while they “take a nap”, so she’ll go somewhere else on the island and play until she hears them rumble around again.

🌀

END

#Godzilla #disability headcanon #actuallyautistic #autism #Tay don’t look #Youtube #infodump #Heisei Godzilla #gif

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tempestsreach-blog · 3 years ago

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Fuck Diet Culture

This is going to be long. It’s going to be rambly. It’s going to be sad. It’s going to be angry. There’s going to be language some people don’t like. I can’t NOT talk about it though.

Fuck diet culture. Let me say that again. Fuck. Diet. Culture. It has taken such a huge chunk out of my life. I have lost pieces of myself I’m not sure I’ll ever get back. The only way to heal is to go through. I can’t go back. I have to move forward. But I can’t do it quietly. I can’t hide. I can’t live in the same shame I’ve spent the last 40 years in. Literally. 40 years of my life wasted to this. I can’t bear to live the back half of my life in the same way. What the hell is the point? I’m not going to write this in any particular order because all of the thoughts and feelings swimming around are snapshots of things in my life that diet culture has broken in me or stolen from me. A lot of you aren’t going to agree with me. That’s okay. Truly. This is about ME. This is to help ME heal. You can talk to me about your struggles, your diets, your ups and downs, your successes and whatnot. I am here for you in all of it. But I won’t diet with you anymore. Never again.

Currently I am having severe knee pain. One knee is worse than the other, but both are bad. I should go to the doctor. I should have gone to the doctor years ago for it. Want to know why I didn’t? My weight. I have injuries from overuse and over exercise and I am terrified that I am going to go to the doctor and the first words they’re going to say are “Well, if you lost 20, 30, 40, 50 pounds, it probably wouldn’t hurt so much.” instead of listening to me, examining me, scanning my knees and HELPING me. I don’t feel this way irrationally. This shit happens. I am in pain. I don’t know how to get help without being told to go on another diet that will not work.

Because diets don’t work. Not long term. I am excellent at losing weight! I’ve done it over and over and over. Then I stop restricting, counting, starving, and pushing myself. Then my body says “What the fuck were you doing?” and puts it back. I lost the ability years ago to know whether I’m actually hungry or not. I eat too fast when I do eat because if I snarf it down super fast I can get it in before my brain says “You’ve had too much. Did you count those calories? How many miles on a treadmill will you do to make up for that? Did you actually earn this meal?”

Every time. Every meal. Every morsel.

I have never been officially diagnosed with an eating disorder. Only been told by therapists and psychiatrists that I definitely engage in disordered eating.

No shit.

Every diet under the sun. Cabbage soup. Phen Fen. Weight watchers (MULTIPLE TIMES), TOPS, Noom, My Fitness Pal calorie counting, intermittent fasting, and every whacky bullshit thing in between promising results. I’ve purchased fancy scales. I’ve even tried one that wouldn’t show you your weight, but the color of your progress in the app. Here’s a hint… if you gain, your color is black like death. I’ve failed a million times and I’ve blamed myself. I am the failure. So I hate my body a little more every day and I stress about how I’m going to NOT pass my disordered eating and my food issues onto my kids. My stress levels are through the roof and 98% of it is diet culture related. What the fuck is that about? Every time I start a program I hit it hard. Last time I tried anything involving tracking or counting I was so starving by the time I got home from work that I almost ripped a child’s head off (not literally OBVIOUSLY) but I screamed at her at the top of my lungs because she hurt my feelings. It wasn’t until after finally allowing myself to eat another morsel of food that I realized I was hangry.

Why is living in a larger body not acceptable? We all talk about diversity and equality as though we believe it with our whole hearts, but that doesn’t cross over to fat. Or skinny if we’re really being honest. How many times have you heard or seen online “Oh my god, she’s so skinny. Feed her a damn cheeseburger! She looks anorexic.” I know I have. I know I’ve said those words. I will punch myself in the gut if I ever say them again.

Every body is different. We are supposed to be. Let’s not BLAME genetics like it’s a bad thing. Let’s realize that it’s what nature has intended. My father is over 6 feet tall and a large man. He’s just a big man. He went on Nutri System when I was young, lost a ton of weight, and put a bunch back on over the years because he is a big man. My mother was not tall, but was always large. I hated her body because HER PARENTS told her all the time she was fat and unworthy and cautioned me not to grow up to be like her in any way. Even when she was poor and homeless she was still large. That was the way her body was. I wonder how different her life might have been if the size of her body hadn’t been a factor in the way she was raised or treated. How might that have made my life different?

I know a lot of you are probably rolling your eyes at me right now about being vocal about another health plan or saying to yourself “just because you have trouble with diets doesn’t mean they don’t work” I know there are people close to me thinking “She just always gets excited when she discovers a new diet, that’s probably what this is.” NO.

This is me finally realizing that I can heal and healing doesn’t mean I need to weigh 157 pounds. (That’s the weight limit for women my height to enter the air force when I did in 1992) This is me finally realizing that I’ve been lying about the weight on my drivers license for 30 years because gods forbid anyone saw my real weight on that document. This is me realizing that I’ve spent my life trying to live up to other people’s ideals of what I should look like because I assumed they wouldn’t like me otherwise. This is me realizing how much unintentional harm I could have been doing when sharing another diet, another idea, another bout of “well this is working really well for me!” with people I care about. This is me realizing how much damage I’ve been doing to myself living with this level of shame for 40 years. Hiding what I’m doing. Suffering in silence. Hiding food. Restricting. Binging. Over exercising to compensate. Spending money on one last diet. Spending emotional energy on one last hope. We were in Las Vegas for what was supposed to be a fun vacation last week and I was so hot and miserable and so steeped in hating my body because my painful knees were betraying me that my internal monologue was a never ending loop of “I’ll hit weight watchers REALLY HARD when we get home and get rid of this weight, then I’ll figure out my knees and work on maintenance” Let me say that again, clearly. I struggled to enjoy my vacation because I was obsessing about restricting food AFTER my vacation. One last time. One last meal.

BULLSHIT.

We walked by shops with weird and pretty fashion dresses. (I freely admit I don’t understand fashion) the husband and I would both point out ones we thought were pretty. My brain would get stuck on “Yeah, but they don’t make them in my size” or “Yeah, that would NOT look good on me. It looks fine on that size 0 mannequin” Pretty on other people. Other people are pretty. Not me. Diet culture is pervasive and all consuming. In big ways and little ways. I’m 5 ft 9. I’m not a tiny person at any weight. I’ve always been told I’m too big. Even when I sit, I slouch a little and/or tuck my legs and feet up under me to try to make myself appear smaller and less invasive. This is subconscious. I don’t always realize I’m doing it until my knees remind me. Most of my life has been things that get in the way of my diets. “I should start the diet today, but it’ll have to wait until next week because so and so’s birthday is this week and I want to be able to enjoy that.” or “It’s late fall, I should just start now but first there’s my birthday, and then Thanksgiving, and December happens and there’s all kinds of treats then. Better wait until January, but not the first because that’s new year’s...maybe the following Monday.” or the ever popular “I already had a bad eating day today, I’m a failure. Why bother? Fuck it. I’ll try again tomorrow.” That one was always followed by binging because of the last supper mentality. If I’m starting a diet tomorrow I better eat EVERYTHING NOW. This is how I’ve lived my whole life. The time not spent dieting was just the time in between diets where I was planning my next diet. So much life wasted. The only time I was not actively dieting or planning the next diet or suffering from “I’m just too exhausting to put effort into food right now” was during my 4 pregnancies. I let myself eat whatever and whenever because I was nauseous all the time anyway and something in my brain made me fuel my body for the babies. When the youngest was born and the on call doctor who delivered her told me I was too fat to have my tubes tied I definitely started planning diets again in that moment. I believe now, years later, that my diet and diet culture ruined mind and body is part of what kept me from being as successful at nursing the kids as I wished I had been. I assumed my body was broken and not good enough for my babies. The last time I lost a LOT of weight it was because I didn’t want to ruin someone’s wedding pictures. True story. This was nothing that person felt or anything they told me. IT’s what my brain said to me. It’s how I de-valued myself. There are very few current pictures of me now because I’ve been stuck in a place where I feel shame when I see them. When I’m dead, memories and pictures are all my kids and grandkids will have, and I hate myself too much to let anyone take them. That’s not okay.

I dream about food. I daydream about food. Food I “shouldn’t” eat. Food I “should” eat. When to eat. When not to eat. Every spare ounce of energy is spent thinking about food or hating myself which leads to more thinking about food. I am not in a place where I can prepare dinner for my family right now because it’s too hard to put that much energy into food. I force myself to pick the recipes from the app and get the shopping done via instacart so all anyone else has to do is pull up the recipe and make the food. If I’m looking at the ingredients or trying to prep anything I stare at every individual thing debating whether or not I “should” eat it. This is going to take me a long time to break free from. Today I finally feel like I CAN break free. There is nothing wrong with being in a large body or a small body. Food is not good or bad. Food is food. I have to say these things. I have to repeat them to myself or I fall down the rabbit hole again. None of this is work anyone can do for me. I have to live it. I have to work through it. I have to figure it out. If you read this far, my statement stands. If you’re on a diet, I will listen to your woes and hold your hand and I will not judge you for it. This was very hard to write because I am certain some of you who believe in diets, ways of life, and wellness eating may block me now because I spoke my mind. I’ve clung so tight to the people I love and refrained from being honest and speaking my mind for fear of abandonment. I’ll have to live with it if that’s the case here, because people sometimes need to do what’s best for them. Airing this out is one of those things for me. It’s a scary thing for sure. I also want to say that I’m happy for this to lead to discussion. I’m not going to shut anyone down for wanting to talk to me about this. I am always open to learn new information and see different perspectives. Just know that if I’m emotional and feeling a lot of strong things about how my life has been up to this point, and I am entitled to believe what I believe just as you all are. I’m happy to share sources and books I’ve been reading on the subject. They are not diet books.

Here’s to doing better from here on out.

Here’s to finally being free.

#intuitive eating #anti diet #mental health #fuck diet culture

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perfectlyelegantdelusion · 4 years ago

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Hey, @atomicdetectivehideout I’m happy to be your @destielsecretsanta2020

Merry Christmas! Please, accept my humble gift for the holiday. It’s a 3k of fluff and stuff (well, when I say fluff, I mean, I really tried!). I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

Thank you to the most awesomest people to ever awesome @campchitaquamemories and @amyoatmeal for offering to beta this little thing. You guys rock!

Here it is on ao3 if you prefer

Those Things That Couples Do

Come to think of it, it wasn’t such a lame idea. Not lame at all, Dean thought, to the extent he might even have to thank Sam later. Well, maybe not outright thank him, but definitely bake a cherry pie for Eileen (her favorite; the woman sure knew how to enjoy life). It felt nice, lying on the bed with Cas in the semi-darkness, Christmas lights on the dresser and a couple of the apple cider and cinnamon scented candles Cas liked so much (and Dean grumbled about but secretly enjoyed too) being the only source of light. It felt cozy. Safe. They talked in hushed voices so as not to disturb the quiet magic of the bubble they had created in that moment, and dammit, but Dean was grateful to his brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law for this particular chick-flick.

“So, you sure you want this to go on your list as the first item?” Dean nudged Cas gently with an elbow. “Sick of my cooking already? I’m hurt, man,” he added, only half-jokingly.

The idea Eileen pitched to them was to write down three items each to reflect their hopes and plans for the upcoming year. At first, Dean laughed when Sam handed him a blue envelope with four blank craft paper cards to be written on. He had been about to suggest Sam find someone more age-appropriate to participate in that particular brand of cute (Dean could almost see the faces Claire and Kaia would make at the suggestion), but Cas’s quiet ‘It’s a lovely idea’ made him silently accept the package at the last second. This provided Sam with the pleasure of witnessing his older brother biting his tongue and smiling reassuringly at Cas who’d been busy searching Dean’s face for a reaction.

Per the rules Sam had explained to them, they were supposed to write down their plans (which they were encouraged to discuss, because that’s apparently what couples do) and complete a bonus task – individually, this time – describing where they see themselves next year at Christmas. Then, they were to seal their envelope and give it to Sam and Eileen for safekeeping, accepting theirs in exchange. That way next year there would be an additional reason to spend Christmas together and see which things have come to pass.

“Stop fishing for a compliment. You know your cooking is delicious.” Cas turned to look at Dean. “I want to be able to do nice things for you, Dean. Like you do for me. Cooking for people you care about is how you show affection and those small, but meaningful gestures go a long way. I’d love to be able to surprise you with a breakfast pie in bed, or make soup for when you catch a cold, or-“ Dean interrupted him with a chaste and gentle kiss on the lips. “You had me at the breakfast pie, Cas. Cooking and baking: 101 it is.” Cas smiled, reached for Dean’s hand, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Laying back on the pillow, he rested Dean’s hand on his belly, gently stroking the fingers. Dean closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

“What will you put as your first item?” Cas asked a moment later.

“That’s easy,” Dean murmured into Cas’s shoulder. “Beach vacay. Never had the time for that before. What do you think about some sand between our toes? Maybe even skinny-dipping with enough margaritas?”

“You do look extremely hot in those aviators of yours,” Cas replied in a thoughtful voice, as if mulling it over. “And skinny-dipping does sound promising. A beach vacation certainly belongs on that list.”

“Cas, if you want me naked and in sunglasses, that can be arranged anytime, anywhere.”

“I want you in those cut-off shorts of yours, and then I want you out of them,” Cas continued in a low voice, and Dean felt the hairs on his arm stand up under Castiel’s fingertips. “I want to explore your sun-kissed skin and count the freckles on your back. I want you to enjoy yourself in all the ways that appeal to you, so yes. You’re writing that down. I’m taking you to the beach.”

“Just like that?” Dean asked, teasingly. “Pretty goal-oriented, aren’t you?”

Cas glared at him; Christmas lights caught in his dark blue eyes. “I was a Seraph, Dean. Goal-oriented was in the job description.”

“Bossy,” Dean suggestively wiggled his eyebrows.

“You like that.”

“Touché.”

Cas turned on his side, facing Dean. They were lying so close now they breathed the same air, noses just shy of touching. Dean took Cas’s hand and laced their fingers, nudging a knee between Cas’s thighs. “What else is on your list?” Dean asked.

Cas didn’t answer right away, and Dean closed his eyes to bask in the warmth of their bodies.

“There’s a small plot of land behind the bunker,” Cas began, “I was wondering whether it’s okay with you and Sam if I make a garden there?” He sounded uncertain, for some unknown reason, and Dean frowned at that. “It wouldn’t be anything fancy, just some flowerbeds with sunflowers or maybe lavender-“

“Cas,” Dean interjected, still frowning, “why would you even ask? You don’t need anyone’s permission to do what you want to do, come on. The bunker belongs to you just as much it does to me or Sammy or Eileen or the rest of our extended family.” He propped himself up on one elbow and gently freed his hand from Castiel’s hold to cup his cheek. “If you want a garden, I’ll help you make one. Or just as happily will mind my own business if it’s something you want to do on your own. Okay?”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas whispered, earnestly. And it wasn’t about the garden, really. It was about being reassured he belonged, was wanted. Accepted.

“You should definitely add the garden to your list, Cas. And, while we’re on the topic, there was actually something I wanted to ask you about.” Dean cleared his throat, his heart rate quickened. He’d been thinking about this for quite a while, but never seemed to find the right moment to broach the topic. Frankly, he’d never felt brave enough to do so. Why mess up a good thing? But the idea lived in his head rent free, and there was no lying to himself, no tricking his mind out of it. “What would you say about a real garden, though? With an apple tree, some benches, maybe even a gazebo? Where you can plant all kinds of flowers to appease those honeybees of yours?”

“That- That sounds lovely, Dean,” Cas replied, obviously a little bit at a loss. “What do you have in mind?”

Dean was grateful it was dark in the room because he could feel himself blushing, chest burning as if someone had put a hot iron on it. He took a deep breath that didn’t do much to lessen the anxiety.

“Remember, back in Sioux Falls, Bobby’s old property?” Dean paused, waiting for Castiel to nod in agreement. “So, it’s all still there. It’s a pretty big plot of land, and the house burned down, obviously, but I was thinking,” the words kept jumping one in front of the other, and Dean felt the blush deepen, desperately hoping Cas would understand what he was trying to say. “I ain’t that bad at rebuilding things, and, of course, it’s gonna be quite a lot of work, but who doesn’t like a fixer-upper, right? There’s the salvage yard, too, we can do something with that. I’m sure Bobby wouldn’t mind, and there shouldn’t be any problems with the documents, given who’s the sheriff in town. And that way you and I get to be closer to Claire, and Donna, the whole gang-“

“You and I?” Cas asked quietly, and Dean took a deep breath, grateful for the interjection.

“You and I. And some bees, apparently,” Dean gave Cas a weak smile, searching his eyes.

Green met blue, and for the better part of a minute (eternity, really) Cas just kept looking at him silently. Dean’s heart was hammering in his chest so loudly, he wondered if maybe he just couldn’t hear Cas’s answer because of the pounding in his ears. But Castiel’s lips didn’t move, and Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he needed to get out before he went into a full-blown panic attack. It was too much. Why would Cas want to leave the bunker? It was way safer there. There were other people, hunters, coming and going, Sam and Eileen lived barely an hour away, why would he even consider moving in with Dean, let alone-

Suddenly, Cas was on Dean, left hand on Dean’s pillow for support, right hand cupping Dean’s face. Cas pressed kisses everywhere, holding on to Dean like it was the last thing on Earth worth doing. Cas moved his hand into Dean’s hair, gripping tight, and Dean moaned, capturing Cas’s mouth with his own, deepening the kiss. Dean’s anxiety turned into exhilaration, because that was very clearly a yes, and somewhere at the back of his mind he wondered if maybe he’d just suffered a mild heart attack. In mere seconds, though, his body went pliant under Cas’s weight, the kiss grew even more urgent and heated. Dean’s brain short-circuited, the only thing that registered was the press of Cas’s groin to his own, the sounds Cas was making, the texture of his tongue, the softness of his palms, his smell, his taste, the overwhelming need to be closer, to become one, to forget there ever was an outside world at all. But as Dean slipped his hands under Cas’s T-shirt, Cas groaned and broke the kiss, panting. He pressed his forehead to Dean’s, eyes closed and breathing heavy.

“I believe we’ve gotten carried away,” Cas said, hoarsely. “We still have to finish the lists before Sam leaves for Eileen’s.”

“Screw Sam,” Dean rasped, “I don’t care, just take off your clothes and keep kissing me senseless.”

Cas growled and bit his lip to keep himself from grinding.

“There will be no screwing Sam,” he said in a low voice. “We finish the lists, give Sam the envelope, bid him goodnight,” Cas took a deep breath, his body looming over Dean. “And then we pick up right where we left off.”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean whined.

“Patience, Dean,” Cas pressed a kiss behind his ear, where he knew Dean was especially sensitive. “All in due time.”

With that, Castiel got up, went to click his bedside lamp on, fluffed his pillow, propped it against the headboard, and took the writing supplies from the nightstand. When he got back on the bed, he made sure to leave a few inches of space between them.

Dean groaned. “Fuck my life,” he muttered, but took a couple of deep breaths, willing his heart rate to friggin’ slow down already. He sat up and reached to switch on the lamp on his side of the bed. He watched Cas for a moment before clarifying, “Yes to the house, though?”

Cas looked at him, pen pausing in the middle of a sentence. “I love you, Dean. Yes to the house.”

Dean grinned. “So, two down, one to go. Item number three for 2021?”

Castiel chewed on the cap, thoughtfully. “This one is less specific, but I’d like to try things I haven’t tried before. Unusual food, new experiences, all kinds of activities – with you.”

“Cas, I swear, if you hadn’t stopped just now, I’d have given you a thing or two to cross out from that bucket list,” Dean smiled, cockily.

Cas grinned. “I should think so.”

“Just say the word,” Dean winked, “and we can go baptize the library.”

“Noted. Let’s just not traumatize your brother any further.”

“He’ll live.”

Cas sighed, a mix of fondness and exasperation. “We’ll get back to this conversation as soon as we’re finished with the task at hand. What’s your item number three for the list?”

“Well,” Dean sat up straighter to get himself into business mode, “I’d love to spend more time with family. Get to know them better, maybe set up some family traditions? I don’t know if everyone will appreciate the idea, but it would be kinda awesome.” He glanced at the framed photos proudly sitting on his shelf.

“I think it’s a wonderful thing to put on your list,” Castiel reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “and I don’t have a shadow of a doubt, everyone will be thrilled.”

“They’d better be. Otherwise, they’ll be missing out on the greatest feasts humanity’s ever known.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed easily, “among other things.”

Dean smiled and reached for his own supplies.

For the next five minutes the only sound that filled the room was rustling of paper. Having finished writing, Dean clicked his pen off. “So, what’s with the bonus task? The one where we describe where we see ourselves this time next year?”

Cas bent the card he was writing on in half and slid it into the envelope. “We’re not supposed to discuss it, but, seeing that we will be exchanging our predictions next year, I figure we just address it to each other?”

“Let’s do that,” Dean nodded. “So, no consulting, huh?”

Castiel hummed. “If we were to respect the rules. You know, though, my prediction doesn’t make much of a secret,” he shrugged, smiling. “This time next year, and all the years to come, I see myself watching a Christmas movie with you. I can’t keep up with the plot, really, because mostly I’m watching you watching the movie, watching you smile, listening to you laugh. And I am overwhelmed by how grateful I am for everything that has led me there, in that moment. I’m happy. I’m with you.”

Dean’s throat felt tight and his eyes started prickling with tears somewhere between ‘all the years to come’ and ‘watching you watching the movie’. Cas was looking at him with such adoration, reverence even, blue eyes glistening, pen and paper forgotten.

“Yeah,” Dean said, wrapping Cas in a bear hug. “Yeah.” He hid his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck and felt an awkward kiss being pressed to the side of his head. “You’re such a sap, man,” he breathed a somewhat wet laugh. “You’re such a sap, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. I hope you know that.”

“I know,” Cas mumbled, “I know.”

“You should still put all of that in writing. You know, for posterity.”

“I will. Will you write yours?”

Dean withdrew a little to give Cas a kiss on the cheek. “I will. But I’m gonna need you to bear with me, ‘cause for once in my life I would actually like to stick to the rules.” He caught Cas’s eyes, “Is that okay with you?” he asked, with a hint of a mischievous smile.

“Of course, Dean.”

“Good. Good.” Dean grinned. “And Cas? I love you, too.”

***

Eileen was supposed to pick him up in about an hour, so Sam sat at his desk browsing true crime documentaries on Netflix when Dean burst in his room without knocking.

“Would you appreciate it if I barged into your room like that?” Sam asked flatly, not looking up from the screen.

“We both know that’s an empty threat,” Dean replied without missing a beat. “Not with those delicate sensibilities of yours.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Sam bristled, “You guys were doing it against the kitchen sink! A man should expect the kitchen to be a safe space!”

“Yes, yes,” Dean nodded vigorously, “he should. But it’s still ill-advised.”

Sam closed the lid of his laptop with a click . “Please, tell me you’ve got the envelope and I can go see my girl and bring home the victory of getting you and Cas to participate?”

“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean dropped the envelope in question on the desk. “Take good care of that for us,” he winked at his brother mischievously. “Cas has already stashed yours in some dusty old book. And hey,” he added in a more serious voice, “tell Eileen thank you?”

“Wait, really?” Sam started, but Dean was already out in the hall.

“Can’t talk, gotta run, Cas says he wants to try new things, and believe me, Sammy, I am gonna deliver!”

“TMI, jerk!” Sam yelled after him, leaning his chair back on two legs to try and catch sight of his older brother.

“Drive safe, bitch!” Dean yelled back from down the hall.

Sam sighed and picked up the blue envelope titled Dean & Cas: 2021 Edition in Castiel’s neat handwriting. The envelope wasn’t sealed properly, and as soon as Sam turned it over in his hands the contents slipped out onto the desk.

“You’re so whipped, Dean,” Sam muttered under his breath picking up the papers. One of the cards fell onto the floor, and as Sam leaned to pick it up, he recognized Dean’s handwriting. Not his finest hour, he would figure later, but the eyes started skimming the text before the brain could actually approve the action.

Hey, Cas. So, we’re talking this time next year, huh? Let’s see. I’m most probably sitting on the couch with you, and we’re in the middle of binge-watching one of those shows you like or watching a documentary. I can’t really tell, because I’m having trouble focusing on what’s going on on the screen. The reason probably being that I have this ring in my pocket, and I keep thinking I should come up with more fitting words. I keep overanalyzing things, wondering if this is even something you might want. And then, we open the envelope, and I’m giving you this little piece of paper, and you start reading it. And I- I can see you frowning in concentration, and it’s been a year since I wrote this, and I still haven’t found the words, because really there are no words to even begin to describe what we have. So- So I take your hand, I kiss your knuckles, and I slip the ring on your finger, and I hope-

Man, I hope I get to spend the rest of my life with you.

With a dopey smile, Sam slipped the card back into the envelope, sealing it carefully. “So whipped,” he repeated quietly, but proudly. 2021 was going to be one for the books.

#atomicdetectivehideout #destiel secret santa #kate trying to fic #happy holidays everyone!#all the love to you #destiel fanfic #destiel ficlet #deancas fanfic

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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

Text

[CN] Kiro’s Inspiration Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 灵感之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

An early birthday gift to the embodiment of sunshine, @moondusks :>

[ This date was released in CN on 7 December 2020 ]

A pleasantly warm and light breeze lifts the muslin curtains, bringing with it the fresh atmosphere of early winter.

Lemon yellow sunlight filters lazily through the trees, casting shadows on the window and carrying the scent of peppermint.

It’s an incomparably ordinary, and incomparably comfortable afternoon.

It’s very suitable for heading out and casting aside one’s cares - laying down on a grass patch, basking in the warm sunlight.

Or perhaps taking a stroll along the street, and sitting down in a cafe one has been longing to visit.

That’s what Kiro and I originally planned to do.

However, the cruel reality is...

MC: Why does this proposal have to be done by next week ahhhh--

Kiro: Why can’t I write this song properly--

MC: Why do people need to be exploited by work--

Kiro: [sighs] And why are people constrained by inspiration--

Because of a sudden program, I have no choice but to work overtime.

And Kiro, who is about to record a new album, has remained dissatisfied towards the title track.

Due to the pressures of reality, we have to give up our original plans of having a fulfilling and happy date.

The both of us are working overtime at home.

Kiro: [groans] Farewell, my rosy weekend. Goodbye, my donuts and soup dumplings which have vanished into thin air.

MC: And brown sugar milk coffee, taro pies, and lava cakes...

Even though we sing the same tune, complaining dejectedly about not being able to go out, the both of us work non-stop on our tasks.

I can hear the crisp sound of Kiro tapping his pen rhythmically against the music stand. Occasionally, his soft humming can also be heard.

Seeing him working hard and struggling with himself, the corners of my lips lift upwards.

Even though we’re unable to head outside to do something interesting, it isn’t a bad thing to be together at home like this, channelling effort into our differing goals.

In some way, this should also count as a type of date.

I smile, adjusting my posture on the bean bag so that it’s more comfortable for typing, then continue immersing myself in the battle against the program proposal.

The proposal I’m working on is extremely urgent, and has to be settled by next week.

Not only that, but this sudden program has an importance accompanied by a non-proportional preparation timing.

And during such a period of high stress, the goddess of inspiration, who typically shows concern for me, has gone on a faraway vacation, and has completely vanished.

I have trouble writing. When I completely lose my train of thought, I exchange helpless glances with the few words on the screen.

In the end, I give up and pause the hands which have been maltreating the keyboard, preparing to pour myself a glass of water, and attempt to change my mood.

Lifting my head, I subconsciously glance in Kiro’s direction.

The curtains separate the room from sunlight, casting Kiro in a faint shadow as he leans against the window while composing a song.

Busy writing the new song, he hasn’t had time to maintain the state of his hair.

Finding stray hairs a hindrance as they block his vision, Kiro holds a rubber band in his mouth, combing his hair to the back, and ties it into a small ponytail.

Those azure eyes stare at the music score in concentration. They are as clear and bright as always, but lack the flash of light he usually has when inspiration strikes.

Reference materials and abandoned drafts are scattered all over, which seem to isolate him on a higher platform which I’m unable to reach.

Completely engrossed in creating his work, even his languid sitting posture exudes a cold and lonely feeling for some reason.

For a moment, I feel slightly dazed.

Kiro: Let me guess. Is Miss Chips lacking inspiration, and having trouble writing the proposal?

Kiro suddenly removes his earplugs, turning his head to look at me.

He shows me a brilliant smile, and the room is once again filled with sunlight.

MC: How did you know?

He stands up as well, stretching himself, turning back into the him that I’m most familiar with.

It’s as though the him of just a few seconds ago was simply an illusion surfacing from work-induced stress.

Kiro: Hmm... since just now, the sound of your keyboard has been intermittent, unlike how smooth it usually is.

While he speaks, Kiro walks to the snack cabinet and rifles through it carefully, as though he’s a small squirrel searching for a pine cone from the hole of a tree in winter.

Kiro: So I thought - Miss Chips is probably just like me, entering a bottleneck at work.

He splits the low-fat and sugar-free healthy snack into half, placing it into my hand.

Kiro: A little reward for the hardworking you. Now, do you feel more motivated?

MC: It sounds quite embarrassing... but I don’t think I can work any harder.

I munch on the snack which gives me absolutely no happiness, saying this with a sullen expression.

MC: The presentation is next week, but I still have no idea how to go about writing the proposal. Right now, I just want to turn into an ostrich and curl up into a ball, avoiding the presentation meeting in a few days... and also avoiding my unmotivated self.

I turn the laptop towards him, letting him see the lonely and piteous 235 words in the document.

MC: I even want to knock on my brain forcefully, checking to see if new ideas will appear.

Kiro: Hmm... I see...

Kiro curls his finger, tapping it gently against my forehead. He leans closer to my ear and asks a question.

Kiro: Nice to meet you, Miss Chips’ inspiration. May I know if you’re at home?

Following his action, I close my eyes and sense it carefully.

After a short silence, I furrow my brows and lift my head, looking at him bitterly.

MC: Hello, the user you’re calling is not in service...

Kiro reaches out to rub the area between my eyebrows, smoothening out the creases on my face.

After ensuring that I’m no longer a “bun”, he sighs, laying down next to me.

[Note] Chinese buns (包子 - “bao zi”) look like this i.e. they look like wrinkles:

Kiro: [sighs] Actually, I’m the same as you. There’s a song I especially wish to write, and I really like the concept and composition. I want to try writing a song on understanding and interpreting the theme of “love” from my own perspective.

He pauses, lifting his fringe with a wry smile. After give it a forceful rub, he causes his originally tidy hairstyle to become fuzzy.

Kiro: But no matter how I change it, I’m not satisfied. I keep feeling as though something is missing from the music. There’s no soul.

I untie the string, using a hand to smoothen his hair, helping him tie it up properly again.

MC: Whether it’s “My Treasure” or the song we wrote together last Christmas, aren’t they very incredible? They’re tender and sweet - it’s as though they can be sung into the hearts of every listener, enabling them to recollect the best memories.

Kiro: That won’t do.

Kiro flips over and sits up, his eyes serious.

Kiro: Those songs write about us. They write about you. I have several thousand ways to write about how adorable you are, but I don’t know which timbre I should use to face myself.

Not realising how potent his words are in causing one to blush, Kiro sighs once again after speaking, laying back down.

Kiro: [sighs] Looks like this time, we’ve both chosen subjects which are very difficult for us.

Kiro: Since we’ve both sunk into a major crisis--

Kiro: Want to try Kiro’s special, secret recipe and see if it can sort out our thinking?

Kiro shoots me a wink.

MC: Sure. Do I need to do anything?

Kiro: At this stage, all you have to do is sit here.

While Kiro speaks, he picks up the abandoned drafts he had casually thrown on the floor earlier, using them to enclose us within a square frame.

Kiro: This is the thinking box that we’re trying to escape from.

He sets down the final sheet of paper, completing this “box”, his tone light.

Kiro: Right now, we’re both locked in it.

MC: In that case, will the superhero help me break this box, so we can have a breakthrough together?

Kiro: Nope.

Kiro steps out of the square frame made out of drafts, reaching out to seize Cello, who is sleeping soundly on the cat climbing shelf. Then, he places it in my arms.

Cello: Meow?

Kiro nods in satisfaction, then jogs over to the kitchen, bringing over some fruits.

Under the confused gaze of both me and Cello, he makes several trips in and out, bringing over soft cushions, comfortable blankets, and two cups of sugar-free hot chocolate.

Finally, Kiro shifts another bean bag over, and sits down beside me.

Kiro: I’m incredibly sorry to tell you that even a superhero can’t find a way to jump out of this box.

Somewhat pleased with himself, he takes me into his arms with one hand, letting me lean on him.

Kiro: But at the very least, I can keep you company in this box. And together, we can see what exactly in this box has left us so bewildered that we’re unable to get out even after such a long time.

As he speaks, he tousles Cello’s fuzzy head, and it releases a comfortable meow.

Kiro: We can also decorate it a little, so the box is more comfortable.

MC: Pfft...

I can’t help but laugh. The sense of dejectedness due to work earlier seems to be cleared up with his actions.

I reach out, pointing at a corner of the ceiling in a joking manner.

MC: See that? Over there, there’s an MC who just can’t write a proposal, and she’s currently curled up and for waiting for mushrooms to sprout on her... I don’t know how to deal with it.

Kiro nods in understanding, pointing at a corner of the room.

Kiro: Ladies and gentlemen, look here. Here is a Kiro whose inspiration is stuck, and is currently drawing circles.

MC: When you put it like that, it sounds pretty cute...

While he speaks, I more or less understand why Kiro went to such trouble to do this.

Kiro: That’s right. To me, whether it’s that ostrich-like MC, or that MC who has mushrooms growing on her, I want to hug all of them properly.

Kiro: And then tell her solemnly - that you’re already very amazing. Even if you don’t think you’re good enough, I still like you very much.

Kiro: Just as much as a little bear in winter liking the warm blue sky and green grass.

As he speaks, he tightens his grip on my hand, leaning his chin on top of my head.

Surrounding me are soft blankets and cushions. In my arms is a cat which has gone back to sleep.

Behind me, Kiro’s body temperature and scent encase me tenderly, making me feel so contented that I want to release a joyful sound together with Cello.

I close my eyes in happiness, nuzzling the crook of Kiro’s neck.

The things that were bothering me just a second ago, weighing me down with stress and emotions and leaving me unable to breathe, vanish like smoke and disperse like clouds.

It’s as though I’ve awakened from an incredibly long nightmare, discovering that sunlight is illuminating my surroundings, and that a cup of hot chocolate is waiting at the bedside.

MC: Kiro, why do you always know of such ingenious methods?

I lift my head to look at him, gazing at that blue colour which seeps into one’s heart, and the golden colour traced by sunlight.

Our foreheads lean against each other, and he smiles as he responds.

Kiro: You were the one who taught me these things. Why are you asking me instead?

MC: Me?

Kiro: Last time, there were numerous occasions when I felt I couldn’t create works that were good enough, and I’d start to doubt myself. I’d lock myself in a corner, and start having internal fights with myself.

Along with his words, it’s as though I see the Kiro I was barely acquainted with back then, and how he had endured several days and nights of work.

He had locked himself up in a room, helpless and frantic, not leaving any space for himself to breathe.

Kiro: But during those times, you were always by my side. You told me that no matter how I was, you’d like me all the same.

As he speaks, he taps on my laptop.

Kiro: Actually, it’s the same today.

Kiro: Don’t just look at how I appear now. Actually, I’m in a terrible state.

Kiro: On one hand, I’m forcing myself to finish this work quickly. On the other hand, I’m so irritated and annoyed at myself, who lacks creativity.

Kiro: There were many times when I wanted to just give up.

Kiro: But...

He lifts a strand of my hair, twirling it around his fingertip. In the end, he pulls it to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss.

Kiro: Each time I heard your intermittent yet continuous typing sounds, I’d tell myself that next to me, you’re still working hard.

Kiro: My Miss Chips is also feeling perplexed, but she’s still persevering in work.

Kiro: So I told myself - how could I give up before you did?

Kiro: I must definitely persevere a little longer, so you see how dashing I am.

Kiro relates this softly at my ear. His tone, which harbours a smile, sounds as though he’s depicting a treasure.

I indulge myself in his arms, greedily enjoying the present tranquility and warm atmosphere for a while longer.

I always feel that Kiro is a star whenever I go off course. He always illuminates the pathway, pointing the way forward for me.

Actually, without even realising it, it’s because we’ve seen each others’ light that we could press on.

Encouraging each other, and feeling the way forward in the darkness.

Until we break through the predicament together.

MC: Thank you, my superhero. I think I’ve regained the ability to fight a little more.

A soft chuckle brushes my ear. Then, a warm and gentle touch is planted on my lower jaw.

Reminiscent of the whiskers of a kitten brushing past, spreading into a plain of sweetness.

Kiro: At your service anytime, my Miss Chips.

With that, Kiro and I sit in the “box” together, resuming our work.

He lays on the ground, scribbling and drawing on the music sheet, while I hug the laptop to myself, working hard to squeeze out a proposal.

The typing sounds on the laptop remain intermittent as before, but no longer have the sense of repression and frustration from earlier.

With his presence, I actually manage to complete a draft of the proposal without realising it.

It isn’t excellent, and there are many areas which require editing. Nevertheless, I’ve already tided over the most difficult period.

I move my neck and shoulders, then shift a little closer to Kiro.

Same as before, Kiro is wholly absorbed in the music sheet in his hands.

Even though I can’t tell his current progress, based on his expression and posture, he should be the same as me, breaking free from the lowest point of production.

I observe him quietly for a long time. In the end, my playfulness triumphs, and I think of pulling a tiny prank on him.

Lifting Kiro’s right hand, I burrow into his arms.

MC: Surprise~

Probably not expecting me to do this, Kiro is left dumbfounded. However, he subconsciously props himself up and hugs me.

Kiro: Miss Chips?

MC: A little reward for the hardworking musician.

Saying this, I tilt my head upwards and give him a light peck on the chin.

My sudden attack and the closing of distance between us enables me to successfully capture the faint redness on Kiro’s face.

Kiro: ...mm, how’s your proposal doing?

MC: At the moment, there are positive prospects.

Just like this, I wrap my arms around his neck, tousling his soft, golden coloured hair.

Because of my action, the ponytail is now in disarray.

I simply hook my fingers underneath Kiro’s rubber band, untying it, feeling the softness of his hair in between my fingers.

MC: How’s your song doing?

Kiro: At the moment, there are positive prospects.

He mimics my words, inserting one earplug into my ear.

A somewhat rough demo occupies my hearing.

I close my eyes, immersed in the music he has given to me. My fingers twirl the wire of the earpiece, tracing the rhythm.

Kiro: Although it isn’t done yet, the overall main key won’t change.

It’s a somewhat slow tune.

It's quiet, and even brings with it a heavy and melancholic melody. It’s reminiscent of a self-reflection, and also like a careful recount.

Kiro: Even though this tune is a little sombre, I still wrote it.

Kiro: Because I know you’d definitely say that you like such songs too.

MC: Of course.

I say this with certainty. He smiles and lowers his head, the tips of our noses gently touching.

MC: Kiro, I came across a saying once.

MC: The process of writing a song is actually a writer’s conversation with himself.

MC: Although I don’t know what you said to yourself, if this melody is your answer, I like it very much.

Our drifting breaths channel a temperature slightly higher than the sunlight.

MC: Including these slightly heavy portions - I like them very much.

Saying this, I crinkle my eyes, humming along with the melody from the earpiece.

Kiro releases a sigh, hugging me tightly.

Kiro: [sighs] Why does this song become so sweet when you hum it?

Before I can respond, Kiro continues.

Kiro: [laughs] It must be because MC is a jar of honey.

He nods with force, seeming to be very satisfied with this answer. Then, it’s as though something occurs to him, and he plants a kiss on my forehead.

Kiro: See? It’s very sweet.

MC: What...

I laugh, pretending to push at his chest.

MC: Looks like I have to stay a little further away from you next time, so you won’t become overweight.

Kiro: Hehe, it’s already too late! My feelings come in large portions, so it’s too late to say that.

Kiro presses me against the woollen blanket, embracing me with even more strength than before.

Kiro: Miss Chips has already been firmly held onto by me.

Kiro: I’ll leave a stamp.

While he says this, he nibbles the side of my neck half-jokingly, and half-declaratory.

He doesn’t use strength, but the electric-like sensation makes me forget how to breathe for a moment.

The charmingly tepid air leaves my cheeks burning crimson.

Kiro’s hug is tight, yet very careful. It’s as though he’s embracing the one and only treasure in the entire world.

MC: It’s not like I can really run away...

Not minding my soft mumbling, another kiss descends on the shell of my ear, as though seeking a confirmation.

His breaths lift up strands of stray hair near my ear. They brush against my earlobe, as scorching as his lips.

Kiro: MC, I’m actually timid and a little childish.

Kiro buries his head in my shoulder, speaking softly.

Kiro: When it comes to things I don’t like, I’ll always think of hiding them and locking them up. I won’t see them, and I won’t let other people see them.

Kiro: But if it’s you...

I secretly take a few deep breaths, cradling his face a little stiffly yet carefully, tilting my head upwards.

MC: Thank you for trusting me.

Kiro: ...

Kiro’s eyes widen slightly, and his lips part and close. It’s as though he wants to say something, but returns to a blank.

At the end of a short silence, Kiro speaks solemnly.

Kiro: I’ll definitely finish this song.

He lowers his voice slightly. Even though this sentence is as light as a feather, I know that he’s as serious as making a vow.

Kiro: I’ll definitely finish this song, and sing various versions of myself to you in the future.

Kiro: Even the parts which are heavier, and the parts I’m unwilling to face myself.

MC: Mm. I’ll definitely listen earnestly.

Following the trail of his spine, I stroke his back lightly, giving him my promise.

Kiro: I know.

Kiro: It’s precisely because no matter what melody it is, you’ll definitely sing it into a song akin to honey.

Kiro: Which is why I have such courage.

I no longer speak, only giving him a serious nod.

Both his breathing and heart beats can be heard, regular and steady.

Kiro: Since we’ve reached an agreement, should I leave another stamp?

Kiro’s voice is once again light-hearted, even carrying with it a twinge of slyness.

MC: Wait! The most important thing now should be noting down the hard-earned inspiration before it goes away!

I grip several music sheets at the side, pressing them against his chest, attempting to flee from his arms.

MC: Get to work quickly!

Kiro: Why are you like this?

Kiro pouts, showing me his signature, puppy-eyed expression of dejection.

MC: I won’t be duped by your gaze again. I’m going to become a merciless supervisor, so you can finish your work before the deadline!

Seeing that his plan has been foiled, Kiro simply gives up “pretending”. With a smile, he grips my struggling wrist, pressing it to the side.

MC: Where’s your professionalism? Could it...

A prolonged kiss seals up the words I haven’t spoken.

Kiro: It’s exactly because of my professionalism that I can say with certainty...

Kiro smiles, his sapphire-like eyes radiating an azure colour even more eye-catching than the clear skies of winter.

Perhaps he hasn’t realised it himself, but he looks at me with the most burning and clear gaze, sticking out the tip of his tongue. Like a dragonfly flitting across water, he wets his lower lip.

Kiro: Before my inspiration vanishes, there’s still time to act coquettishly with my favourite Miss Chips.

Phone calls: First // Second

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years ago

Photo

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Event! 轻云寻隐录: Sariel’s BDAY 2021 Event! Qingyun’s Hidden Records (Prelude)

“Just go sit at the counter. I have no wish to see my kitchen get blown up.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Sariel’s Personal Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join my Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Event story tag will be #For Light and Memories

I stood in front of the entrance of Sariel's place, breathing a deep sigh before raising a hand…

And as to why I'm here… That story goes back to a week ago.

❖☆———————————★❖

Zheng Lin: (Y/n), I have some things here that I require you to handle.

Just as I was haplessly being drowned amid a monotonous stack of documents and materials alike, the unique document that was placed before me perked me right up.

MC: September's Staff Birthday Party…

Sariel Qi's Birthday: 9/1!

My eyes widened in shock, reading the document through again. Yup, my eyes weren't fooling me.

I never thought that this was how I’d learn of his birthday… Although Sariel wasn’t the one who told me about his birthday, how about I celebrate it with him now that I do know it?

I keyed in a reminder on my phone and began seriously thinking about just how I should throw him a special birthday celebration.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: I need to check what flavour of cake he likes before I can even prepare him one…

MC: I’ll have to be careful not to expose the fact that I’m there to acquire information and keep up the act of having “just passed by”.

Putting on a lost look, desperate for help, I pressed the doorbell.

The wind on the side of the mountain was by no means gentle. It was a little cold as it blew against my face, but it helped calm my nervous heart, providing me with an additional boost of courage and anticipation.

Ding-Dong!

The doorbell had only just rung before the door instantly swung open along with an icy greeting from none other than Sariel himself.

Sariel: Still dare to come back?

He took a second take upon seeing me at the door. He massaged his temples in sight annoyance before his initial expression of sternness loosened up.

Sariel: You…

MC: Yes, me.

Why do things seem a little different here? Is he waiting for someone?

MC: Err, Director Qi. I just happened to pass by here, but I can't find the road back down the mountain…

Sariel: Pass by? Halfway up a mountain?

MC: I'm actually… mountaineering.

Sariel: I don't seem to recall you ever having a hobby of mountaineering.

MC: Well, we're all office people, right? We need more exercise.

Sariel: So, you just so happened to climb this mountain, coincidentally failed to find the path, yet chanced upon my house?

He slowly blinked, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. However, he didn’t look the slightest bit angry at all.

MC: Same goes for you when you happened to pass by my place while on the way home from the vet.

Sariel: …...

Sariel's smile immediately vanished without a trace. He slightly turned away.

Sariel: That WAS a coincidence.

MC: Yes, yes, alright. It was a coincidence.

MC: So, could I bother you to take me in for a while, Director Qi? I didn't bring food with me so not only am I starving, but I'm also feeling a little light-headed.

Sariel: ...Come in.

❖☆———————————★❖

Sariel: Wait. Wash your hands at the entrance.

In the few days I didn't see him, Sariel's clean freakiness seemed to have increased again.

MC: Right, who did you think I was earlier?

Sariel: No one.

Sariel instantly denied it, but then realized that he’d probably refuted it a little too hastily, thus deciding to explain himself.

Sariel: I thought it was my takeaway delivery.

MC: You do takeaway!?

Sariel: ...Occasionally.

MC: What takeaway do you usually eat? Other than salads, I mean.

MC: Do you avoid any kind of food? For example… Are you allergic to tropical fruits? Do you perhaps like chocolate?

MC: What’s the level of sweetness you can take when it comes to sweet food? Do you like slightly bitter things like matcha, for example?

❖☆———————————★❖

I followed closely behind Sariel, rapidly firing questions at him without noticing the fact that he’d halted. My face had already crashed into his back before I could even react.

MC: Ow… Why did you stop all of a sudden?

Sariel: I'm thinking if I've just been duped.

Sariel: You look nothing like a frail and fragile person who's about to faint. In fact, you're bursting full of life.

MC: ……

Despite saying that, he still opened the fridge and took out a few boxes of vegetables and a box of spare ribs.

By the time he’d put on his apron, I already found myself standing up his sides with my sleeves rolled up and ready to assist.

Sariel: Just go sit at the counter.

Sariel: I have no wish to see my kitchen get blown up.

MC: ...Oh.

After about half an hour of waiting, a set of two dishes and a bowl of soup was served on the counter before me.

I took a tentative bite out of it, mentally noting that Sariel liked his ribs a little on the sweet side.

And he liked tea too… So why don’t I just make him a matcha cake? Mildly sweet, yet slightly bitter.

Sariel: I'll send you down the mountain once you're done eating. I'm leaving on a trip.

MC: A trip!?

Remembering the birthday plan, I panicked. Sariel shot me a suspicious look.

MC: Where are you going? When will you be back?

Sariel: To look for someone. I don't know when I will be returning.

What if 1st September passes while he’s gone? Wouldn’t my plan go down the drain!?

Sariel: Judging by the look on your face right now… Just what are you planning again?

MC: Can I go with you, Sariel?

MC: I mean- It’s been a long time since I went out, so I want to admire the scenery!

Sariel: ……

Sariel: I’m going to Qingyun Swamp. It’s not a place for one like you.

Qingyun Swamp? I racked my brains for that semi-unknown name. Then, I finally recalled it after catching sight of an ancient book that was lying open on the table.

❖☆———————————★❖

Qingyun Swamp was a place of the past, located in the southern suburbs of Guangqi City. It was a large forest born from the waters.

It's a shame that now most of the trees there had been cut down in this modern times, and all the water there had also dried up for no rhyme or reason. Right now, only one remnant remains of the place: The abandoned Qingyun Station.

There’s also an ancient legend about Qingyun Swamp. According to it, there is a mysterious secluded island there similar to paradise itself.

❖☆———————————★❖

I subconsciously glanced at the ancient book atop the table again. There was an old map of Guangqi inscribed on its old yellowing pages.

Is he really going to Qingyun Swamp, a mysterious place that had long since disappeared? Just who is he trying to find all the way down there?

Although I was filled with doubts, I still enthusiastically raised my hand to tag along.

MC: Then that’s precisely why you HAVE to bring me along! I might be able to help you if you’re looking for someone! More hands to go around, right?

Sariel: Are you hiding something from me?

MC: You saw through me, huh… Actually, I’ve always wanted to go to Qingyun Swamp, and it’s second nature for me to want to help others...

MC: And this is my once in a lifetime chance and-.

Sariel held out a hand to stop me, seemingly having a brewing headache just from my chattering alone.

Sariel: Very well.

Sariel: But I'll say this first: No regretting it when you get there.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Memories⊹ —————★❖

Next Part: (Prologue)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #齐司礼 #Sariel #For Light and Memories #轻云寻隐录 #Qingyuns Hidden Records #Sariel BDAY 2021

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friendandphoe · 4 years ago

Text

okay the formatting on this is gonna be a lil weird bUT!! have this figuring it out/something to last revamp that’s been sitting in my brain for the last few weeks @ahbonjour @museumlad @creativeskull95

There’s no way in hell she’s ever looking Professor Keelson in the eye again. “I’m sorry,” she croaks for the thousandth time, and finds a tissue being pressed into her hand.

“Quite alright, my dear,” Professor Keelson says soothingly, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded over his round belly. “Wipe your face, now, there you go. I’m — well.” And he rubs the bridge of his nose, just under his round wire glasses. “I can’t say I wasn’t expecting this, unfortunately.”

She nods numbly, ice trickling down her spine.

You ruined everything.

“I’m sorry,” she tries again, because it’s all she can think to say, but the professor waves her off with a weathered hand and pushes himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane as he makes his way to the mini fridge he keeps under the bookshelves.

“Now, now,” he says, almost scolding, and pulls out a clementine, a bar of chocolate, and a bottle of water. “Don’t you start that with me, Ms. Ochoa. This is not the first time I’ve had students crying in my office, I daresay it won’t be the last.” And he sits heavily back down in his chair, setting the snacks in front of her. “Eat, drink. Now, I won’t press on what’s been troubling you, but you know, these tired old eyes of mine do still catch a few things here and there, and I have seen you — well. I don’t like to use the word struggling, but you know, perhaps it is a bit more apt than anything else I could think of.” And she knows he’s looking at her, knows those beady black eyes well, but just focuses on unwrapping the chocolate bar as quietly as she can.

What makes you think we want you around?

“You’ve had a rough time of it, this year.”

It’s not a question, but she still finds herself nodding confirmation. “I don’t know what happened.” She says hoarsely, and reaches for the water bottle.

Leave us alone.

“I’ve been wanting this for years, I worked so hard to get into this program, I just—” and she has to press her mouth shut to keep the lump in her throat from escaping.

Leave us alone!

“Some… stuff. Uh, came up, I guess.”

They sit in silence for a minute, then softly: “The human mind is a wonderful, confusing little thing.” Professor Keelson says. She dares a glance up at him, finds him — thank god — staring out his office window. “It tends to block out anything unpleasant we might not want to hear, and often that negativity will build and build and build until, one day, the weight becomes too much to bear.” He sighs and scrubs a hand through his short white beard, messing the hairs out of their orderly style. “And then we must face the unfortunate truth that sometimes what we thought we wanted is, in actuality, not at all the path we should be taking."

She drops her gaze back down to her bouncing knee. “Is it stupid?” She blurts out, watching her leg blur under her rising tears. “I just — this is a good school, a good program, and I’ll have so many job opportunities when I graduate—”

A weathered hand stretches out across the desk, just reaching to where her pinky would've been. “And yet,” Professor Keelson murmurs. “It won’t make you happy.” He sits back in his chair, looking every inch the benevolent Santa Claus his students know him to be. “And given how miserable you’ve been this year, Ms. Ochoa, I daresay your ultimate happiness is worth far more than any graduating job offers.” His smile drops for a half-second. “Though I can’t say I won’t be sorry to see you go. You’re already one of my best students, you know.”

You're an embarrassment to my name and reputation.

A wet little giggle chokes out of her throat, and she wipes down her face one more time. “Don’t tempt me, I’m half-considering staying,” she admits. “Even with all of this.”

“Ah, but if you do, what sort of state will you be in once you graduate?” Professor Keelson says, raising a bushy brow. “All you young folk are the same. You’re young, you have that wonderful, limitless energy, but you must learn to take care of yourselves now, while you have the space to do so. Won’t do you any good to drive yourselves into the ground every night when you’re my age, you know!” He looks at her appraisingly, then smiles wide. “And you know, my dear, there’s great strength in being able to admit you were wrong. I’ve always admired people who are strong enough to chase their dreams instead of following the easy path. Do you have an idea where you’re going, yet?”

Don’t ever come back here, you little—

“There’s a performing and visual arts conservatory,” she says hesitantly. “River Park, downstate. They’ve got really good photography and filmmaking programs, and, um.” She pauses, unsure how to explain how right it had all felt when she’d been reading about it online. “Well, I have an interview on Wednesday, so.”

Professor Keelson’s smile widens. “River Park! My partner studied illustration there, years ago when we were both young. You’ll do wonderfully.”

She can’t help but feel like his faith is ever-so-slightly misplaced —

I didn't want you.

— maybe it’s just the existential crisis talking, who knows —

Do you understand me?

— but she can’t quite bring herself to argue against the sparkling excitement in the professor’s eyes. She lets him press another chocolate bar and tissue combo into her hand as he shuffles her out of his office, with strict, cheerful instructions to come see him before she leaves for her interview.

You were a mistake.

Tuesday night comes in the blink of an eye; she’d barely dumped her meager wardrobe back into the suitcase she’d kept under her bed and her sticky notes are still haphazardly slapped to the wall above her desk. She’s not exactly sure where the time went — it’s not like she went to any classes. Or ate much. Or was sleeping, really. Granted she did try, but the third time in the same night she woke up sobbing because her blankets had twisted around her leg, trapping her in an all-too-familiar heat vortex—

window won't break it's too hot it hurts to breathe window won't break it's so fucking hot she can't think window won't break but it'll slide get out of this goddamn heat get out get out crunch fuck ow hurts hurts ow fuck hurts her toes shouldn't be ow fuck fuck fuck pointing that way hurts hurts fucking hurts can't feel her knee fuck fuck where's papá—

— she kind of gave up. She doesn't even bother pulling out her shitty, half-broken headphones to try and watch something on Netflix to try and pass the time, she just lays in bed and listens to Rebecca softly snoring five feet away. The ceiling is infinitely more interesting than anything else she could’ve been focusing on, anyway.

Except maybe her portfolio. Which. She hasn’t really. Looked at.

She’s so fucked.

Still, she drags herself out of bed nice and early at 7 am Wednesday morning, beating her alarm by the customary 4 minutes, and actually manages to gather the energy to sift through her remaining clothes to dig out something — well. She doesn’t really have anything “nice,” per say, but she does have an oversized sweater that’ll pass as a dress once she puts on some makeup and a belt and ties her hair up, and that’ll have to be good enough.

You show up to my door looking like that?

River Park is going to laugh her right out the door.

Everything she might need is already shoved unceremoniously into her backpack — wallet, keys, wrist brace, student ID, laptop, flash drive (in its place of honor in the tiny pocket), knee brace, fruit snacks, water bottle — but her eye catches on her DLSR just as she’s finished tying the laces on her most comfortable boot, and she hesitates. She hasn’t really looked at her portfolio much recently — she knows she’s got some old pictures from Manhattan, and maybe some from various campus events that might be good, but it’s been a little hard to go out and take nice shots when she’s been drowning in depression soup for the past four months. Four years. Whatever. Either way, she doesn’t have much to show for herself, and inspiration hasn’t really hit lately.

But River Park is — well, she has no idea, really, she hasn’t seen it in person yet, but the photos online are gorgeous, all glass-and-brick buildings framed by forests and gardens. Very much a college town, from what she can tell, the campus map isn’t really a map so much as a general directory pointing out which buildings were associated with the conservatory, but there was something that felt weirdly homey about seeing those pictures. Maybe it was the layout of the buildings, maybe it was the way they described their classes and professors, maybe it was just the simple fact that everyone in those pictures was genuinely smiling, but she’d gotten this weird, longing ache just below her collarbone that had made her close down all her other college-related tabs and email River Park’s photography and filmmaking department.

Something feels good about that campus. And maybe, if she gets there a little early, she can—

You don't get to come into my life and — and ruin everything I have here.

It’s only seven forty-two. Her interview’s not until one, and the train ride downstate should only take an hour. She’s got time.

Which is how she finds herself knocking on Professor Keelson’s office door, DLSR hanging around her neck, about two hours earlier than she’d been intending to be there, praying to who and whatever might be listening that he’s actually in and she didn’t just horribly fuck this up like she’s been fucking up, oh, who’s to say, just about everything she touches these past few months.

You’re not a part of this family. You never will be.

“Come in, come in!” She hears just beyond the door, and she cautiously peeks in to find the wizened old professor crouching over his printer, staring at it suspiciously as it slowly spits out some document. “Hello, dear. Wasn’t expecting you this early!”

I think you should leave.

“Sorry,” she manages, hovering in the doorway. “I just — change of plans.”

Professor Keelson nods, collects his papers, and creaks over to his desk. “Yes, very good.” he agrees, shuffling the papers into two piles. “Take a seat, I promise I won’t keep you very long. You look nice, by the way.”

She sits, already relaxing in the warm familiarity of Professor Keelson’s overstuffed office. Maybe this is why he’d wanted her to visit before she went, just to make sure she wouldn’t vomit on the interviewers. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re very welcome. Now,” he says, stuffing one pile of papers into a folder. “These are all your important documents: transcripts, transferable credits, disability accommodations, et cetera. Pardon my overstepping, but you did seem a little, ah, frazzled, shall we say? Last you came to speak with me and I was almost positive that you wouldn’t have thought of pulling the paperwork together.”

Which is absolutely true, she hadn’t, and she can’t even bring herself to feel insulted that he’d assumed she wouldn’t. “Thank you very much,” she says, trying desperately to seem calm and cool and collected and not crush her very expensive, very precious camera in her white-knuckle grip.

A mess. You're a mess.

Professor Keelson’s face crinkles into a smile. “You’re very welcome. You’ll be happy to know that, since you’ve already completed all your core classes and general requirements, all of those credits will easily transfer between the schools. There may be a class or two you’ll have to make up, but you should be able to jump right in with your major-specific classes. Now, this,” he says, folding the other papers into an envelope. “Is your letter of recommendation. I’ll put it in the folder with everything else, but I wanted you to know that you had it.”

Oh, fuck, she might start crying again. “Professor—” she starts, but he’s already slid the folder across the desk to her.

“Ms. Ochoa, if I may.” Her mouth snaps shut, and he continues: “Our time together has been short, yes, but you have been one of my favorite students to ever come through these doors. Barring your obvious intelligence, passion, and work ethic, you’re also relentlessly kind, despite everything you’ve gone through.” His gaze fixes on her cheek for the briefest of moments, tracing over the lumps and bumps of her scars, but his eyes are as soft as they’ve ever been. “I don’t presume to know your history, but I know bits of your present, and the person I’ve seen would make a valuable asset to any school she goes to. If you approach your new classes and projects with as much determination as you did mine, I’ve no doubt your new instructors will be as proud of you as I am. I let them know as much.”

...

She numbly takes the folder, desperately blinking back tears. “Th-thank you, sir.” She manages, thick in the back of her throat. “I-I’ll do my best.”

Professor Keelson takes up his customary position, hands laced neatly over his belly. “You will.” He agrees, smiling. “Now, you should be heading out soon. I’d hate to make you miss your train, especially if you want to get there early.”

“Yes — yes.” And she gets up on autopilot, sliding the folder into her backpack as carefully as she can manage. “Thank you. Thank you so much, professor, I can’t — I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

She’s halfway out the door when she hears him call: “Ms. Ochoa, one more thing?”

She turns.

The professor smiles benevolently at her from his chair. “Don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even gotten started.”

And with that, she’s on her way.

Get out.

So, update: maybe deciding to take her portfolio pictures on her way to her college interview was a stupid idea, but to be fair, a lot of her stupid ideas have worked out pretty decently before, so. It’s fine.

Probably.

She definitely doesn’t almost miss the train by snapping shots of the mostly-empty station, but in her defense, the morning fog hadn't quite dissipated yet, and the spooky air of possibility that the tracks had been extending and disappearing into was just begging to be captured. And she absolutely doesn’t continually hop seats throughout the hour-long ride to get different angles of the seats, the blurry towns and roads whizzing past, or even a couple of self-portraits here and there. It’s not like there are people around for her to bother, anyway, so it’s fine. (Probably.) It’s a little hard getting a satisfyingly dramatic shot of her staring out the window, but she thinks the one where they’re passing through a tunnel and she’s locked eyes with her shadowy reflection might be a winner. She won’t really know until she opens them up on her computer, which will probably end up being just before the interview, with her luck, so. Who knows, she might just be wasting her time and battery life.

It’s the most fun she’s had in a while, though.

And. Fuck, maybe it makes no sense, but she's still got that feeling in her chest. It's creeping up to her ponytail, at this point, tugging on the ends of her curls, ordering her to pay attention.

Capture this.

It's important.

Last time she felt like that, she won an award, so. Y'know. Fuck her if she's going to ignore it.

She cuts herself off when there’s ten minutes left in the journey, just to be sure she’s not scrambling to put herself together as she’s pulling up to the station, but ten minutes, it turns out, is both much longer and much shorter than she thought it’d be. Just enough time to run down the list of all the possible ways this could (and would) go wrong, but not enough to steady her racing heart before the train’s slowing down.

You're delusional. This isn't one of your little fairy tales. This is — it's not going to happen.

Don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even gotten started, she remembers, taking one last breath to steel herself, and swings herself up onto her feet and out the doors.

The station is nice enough, but not terribly different from the one she’d started in besides being a little cleaner, so she shoulders her backpack and makes her way down the stairs and into the town proper.

Which.

Wow.

Maybe it’s just a seasonal thing, maybe not, but all the buildings she can see are draped with hanging lights, and even the curving street lights have extra strands hanging over the sidewalks. She almost wishes she’d scheduled her interview later in the day, just to be able to get a shot of those lights against the dark sky, but contents herself with snapping pictures of the incredibly aesthetic sidewalk and shops. She spots an art supply store with a cheerful blue door sandwiched between a movie theater and an apartment complex that frames up nicely, and there’s a coffee shop with swirling, festive winter-y designs painted on the window with pots of poinsettias framing the corners that’s a — no pun intended — picture-perfect paragon of coziness. She stops maybe a little too long to zoom in on the red leaves and flawless paint, making sure to keep the actual inside of the shop out of focus, because as cute as the beanbags and mismatched armchairs are, she doesn’t really feel like going in to ask if it’s alright for her to take pictures of the small handful of people both in front of and behind the counter.

One last shot of the poinsettias and she moves on, turning her lens to the last few, dying flowers in their garden beds, then to the display window of a bookstore that proudly announces its support of the LGBT community with various painted flags, then to the churning river that cuts through the town and the elegant bridge that arcs proudly above it.

There’s not a lot of people walking around right now, but she can definitely see kids around her age up the street, chatting and laughing amongst themselves as their breath puffs out in front of them. A cute dog bounces over to say hello before its owner tugs it away with a sheepish smile, and even without their leaves, the trees interspersed along the sidewalk stand tall, proud, and lovely.

She’s got that weird ache in her chest again — stronger this time — that indiscernible pull that draws her to stay, and she puts her camera down, puffing out a shaky breath.

What made you think we want you here?

“It doesn’t matter.” She tells herself sternly, leaning up on the sides of the bridge. “It doesn’t matter unless you get in.”

Speaking of. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, fully intending to double check the email she’d been sent with instructions on where to go, but her eye catches on the time.

Twelve forty-six.

So. Maybe not the best idea to go gallivanting around a campus she doesn’t know, especially when she has an extremely important interview to get to, but even as she’s scolding herself, she knows the pink flush in her cheeks isn’t just from the cold, and she’s got more energy now than she’s had in months, so.

Worth it.

Thank god E.A. Archer Hall is straightforward enough to find; Google Maps tells her it’s a seven minute walk in a mostly straight line from where she is on the bridge now, which she just about manages even though it’s cold and her stump is starting to ache. The building is emblazoned with the name right on the side, so it’s impossible to miss, but she needs a keycard to get in, and somehow she thinks her current school ID isn’t exactly going to fly here.

But someone, somewhere, is smiling on her, because she’s only just gotten to oh, shit before a tall woman with vitiligo and long box braids strides towards the door, pushing it open.

“Alejandra Ochoa?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she says as smoothly as she can behind her chattering teeth, and the woman smiles.

“You're right on time. Come on in, let's get started."

#I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT HOW DIFFERENT FIO/STL WOULD GO NOW SO IM REWRITING IT #i dont wanna spoil things bc i am in fact working on the next bits but here are some minor thoughts:#1: alexa starts out as an architecture major then switches schools to go into photography/filmmaking spring semester 2nd year #((not to toot my own horn but the way her major reflects her emotional arc is actually very clever of me if i do say so myself))#2: alexa and jaimey are half siblings through their dad and there will in fact be more Jaimey/Juno development than ive ever done before #((i have a lot of thoughts about their relationship and how it would grow and develop over time so. lowkey Jaimey redemption arc))#3: alexa obviously nails this interview and she hangs out on campus for a lil while afterwards to take pictures #((3.5: she does end up going into the coffee shop and there is in fact a Very Cute Barista and she gets Nervous))#4: the little interjections are things that have been said to Alexa somewhat recently but not all by the same person #thats about it i think anything else would be spoiler-y #n e way i cant wait to loredump all my new thoughts on yall im so sorry in advance for all the notifications you're about to get #im workin on some AU stuff too but lately ive been wanting to write about Normal Kids doing Normal Kid Things so here we are #i hope you enjoyed #movie house #alejandra ochoa #alexa darmond #my writing #shut up phoenix

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stilemawillow · 4 years ago

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MTIJ | Ch.4 Mr Sexy Intern, Let Me Introduce You to My Boyfriend (I)

|mtij masterlist|

pairing: levi ackerman x reader (eren jaeger x reader)

word count: 4.6k

summary: a girl with a variety of hidden complexes has to live with a french asshole for nine months. easy? on the surface. problematic? definitely. romantic? not too much, or at least they’d make it a point to say so everytime when asked. the end? please, their dynamic isn’t as simple as that.

"I think I'm forgetting something. Something important." It was quiet before the words exited my lips. My eyes were narrowed in suspicion, but I wasn't sure why my sixth sense kept frantically tingling throughout the past few minutes. On the screen in front of me, Bugs Bunny was running away from the hunter, and Daffy Duck was being himself (so that meant an idiot who stayed alive just like myself). I had a delicious bowl of soup in my lap, a book was nestled at my side and my father’s intern was in the kitchen doing something. Of all things I could observe or do, I just had to stare into the abyss, thinking of what I'd forgotten.

... well, doing the intern sounds like a young adult novel’s plot but he's an ass and it’ll never happen so there’s no use considering it. It sounded so wrong when I said it in my head that I just shook it off and focused on remembering what I'd forgotten.

It was a rarity for me to be forgetful, more so it was considered a crime in a family of workaholics like mine - if I didn’t do everything for myself nobody would. During moments when I had somebody around, however, my guard fell and my brain liked to let go of random facts, which would later torment me with their absence. At times like these, it wouldn't be an understatement to say that it was a miracle I hadn't lost my ID somewhere and gotten arrested for not possessing an identification document and faking an identity.

Haha, that's a good one. I laughed out loud. But they'd never catch me. Was the next thought that made me chuckle darkly.

"What are you even laughing at?"

"How they'll never catch me with a fake identity." It slipped past my lips with ease but it sounded wrong in reality. The raven made no comment on the topic as my brows furrowed and I noticed the black screen before me. I sneezed three times, wiped my nose with my sleeve and stared at the ebony-haired intern who was standing behind me with confusion.

"Why is the TV screen blank?" The innocent face I put on, ever so oblivious to its own stupidity, probably made him ask himself if I was eighteen or eight. His expression was that of a hopeless person possessing the urge to facepalm against a wall. The one at fault for that expression would be me, or so I guessed, but as a person with enough audacity to wipe away my snot with my sleeve, I had not enough fucks to give about that.

"The electricity went off five minutes ago." The simple answer I was given made me blink a few times in his direction before I glanced back at the TV and recalled the time at the beginning of my absentminded thoughts when it had still worked just fine.

"I've been having an inner monologue for the past five minutes?" He nodded, making me wail. "I still feel like I'm forgetting something important, though." I complained with narrowed eyes and brows knitted in concentration. My sixth sense was tingling as the intern took the soup from my lap and made his way back to the kitchen with a sigh.

"It wasn’t that important then." He said on his way out and I whined in protest as he took off with my soup. I followed him into the kitchen, watching him place the bowl and press the ‘on’ button after setting the timer to a minute. I observed the little numbers count down the time in which my soup would warm up.

It's almost like a reincarnation. If only people could be like that, too. You put them in the microwave for sixty seconds and when the timer beeps, they're young again... wait. We're getting off-topic again. I shook my head stubbornly while scolding myself on the inside.

"My parents have forgotten me all too much in stores and I don't consider myself that unimportant. Thus, this rule is renounced." I stated confidently and the raven rolled his eyes with a snort.

"Then what's that thing you've forgotten?" He asked, mocking my inability to remember said thing. It pissed me off because the memory was blocked by something.

"I bet it has something to do with my social life." I stated as-a-matter-of-factly whilst putting an index finger in the air. The intern’s thin brows raised a bit as the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"You have one?" He was quick to mock, to which I gritted my teeth and glared at him. I gave him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to me but at the same time I was glaring him down so we were even.

"As a matter of fact, I do. I can't say the same about you, though." I received a glare as well, feeling satisfaction spread its wings on my back. I bit back a smirk and continued talking. "I'm sure it has to do with that - maybe if I check my phone..." I trailed off, already having headed back to the living room, leaving the raven to mumble under his breath as the microwave's timer went off in the background.

I grabbed my phone from the coffee table and started scrolling through my messages and calls and it didn’t take me long to realise what I’d been missing - one picture was all I needed. My eyes widened and all blood froze in my veins I began to panic. I knew it was important! I fucking knew it! Yet I'd ignored it up to now! God, clogged nose or not, I had to get out of this house as fast as possible.

"HOW COULD I FORGET!" The panicked shriek that escaped my lips was in no form, shape or way an actual question - I personally considered it a battle cry. I ran for my room, leaving Levi to stare at me with a bowl of soup in hand. With a quiet sigh, the raven placed it on the counter and promised himself the next time I wanted soup he wouldn't be serving it to me. He then followed me up the stairs.

In my room, I was desperately trying to find the thing I had in mind. It had been too long - I'd almost forgotten where I'd hidden it. Also, it wasn't such a wonder my sixth sense had been bugging me the whole ride home and minutes prior to my panic-induced frenzy. I was dumb and totally deserving of a punch or two, but that would just take more of the precious time I could use to change my clothes and get going. I kneeled by my bed, fishing the needed object from underneath and going straight for my wardrobe.

March 30th. How could I fucking forget?

It was a big event. Bigger than a pop quiz for a subject I disliked, bigger than a bitch I disliked dissing me, bigger than most things. Because it only happened once a year. Because I could probably google it and find something. It was humiliating for me of all people to have forgotten it, but I decided to suppress the guilt and act on making up for it. I undressed and ignored the mess I'd created, sneezing, coughing and slipping inside my jeans. I left them unbuttoned while putting on a top I hadn’t worn in a while. I straightened up, grabbed the bag I’d pulled out from under my bed and blew my nose in a tissue I found on my nightstand. Disgusting - I know, but I was in a hurry.

"What are you doing exactly?" The deep voice made me glance at the intern’s glaring eyes before I buttoned my jeans and snapped back at him.

"What does it look like to you?" I tossed the used tissue back on the nightstand, being graced by the way his whole face scrunched up at the action. He crossed his arms over his chest again, biceps beautifully outlined by his shirt.

Seriously, do you work out or does it come naturally? No, there's no fucking way for those to just appear out of nowhere. I'd have abs by now if they did. My eyes were quickly driven away from his upper arms as he cleared his throat to get my attention.

"Do check me out in secret, princess. Last time I checked you had a boyfriend." I blurted out a sarcastic ‘wow’ and fixed the raven with a glare whilst approaching him.

"The only thing you managed to think of when I was looking at the stain on your arm was that I was checking you out, asshole? Someone's pretty conceited." I retorted as-a-matter-of-factly with a light scowl and the moment his eyes went to check the truthfulness of my statement I slipped past him and sprinted down the stairs, hearing him call me a fucking brat as he realised what I’d done.

He was hot on my trail as I stepped into my converses without tying their laces and slammed the front door in his face. My lungs wheezed in protest as I rant to the bus stop - if I lost him now he wouldn’t be able to catch me since he didn’t know the neighbourhood that well yet. I couldn’t take my car since the keys were in the house but I saw the bus I needed pull up at the stop just as I’d arrived there. A grin made its way on my lips as I hurried to step inside and managed to do it without tripping or slipping or anything of the sort. Then the doors were closing behind my back and there was a hand pulling at my wrist, almost making me stumble backwards as I yelped.

"You get your ass back in the house now." The intern’s cold voice reached my eardrums as I turned around to look at him over my shoulder. I glared, furious that he would dare stop me when I was so close to my goal. This was a big day in my book and I had something of utmost importance to do, so I was determined not to let the raven-haired asshole ruin everything.

"I have something to do." I retorted straightforwardly, not caring if he wanted to stop me or not because he wouldn't be able to anyway. If it came down to it I was ready to scream he was a rapist who wanted to kidnap me or start crying so I could make him feel some pity and let me go. I had to choose one, but that wasn't the problem I had to face right now.

"Your father forbid me to let you out of the house without his permission." He returned like the overly caring mother I'd never had in my life. And since when did my father start caring that much anyway? Usually, the only problem for him would be if my grades were dropping drastically or if I were trying to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night to see Eren. He didn't really make a big deal out of it when I was trying to see Annie.

"You're not my babysitter." I countered defiantly with a glare that made the intern scowl darkly as he tugged on my wrist.

"But you're acting like a child." He returned with a strict frown on and I was sure I was actually pouting like a child (or a spoiled princess as he would try to mock), but I was set on not letting him and his orders from my father ruin my plans. Maybe if I sneezed on him I'd manage to shock him into letting go of my wrist. He didn't seem all too fond of germs and dirt, so that could actually work.

"I have something to do." I repeated my earliest of phrases and saw his lips part before a third voice cut into our small argument.

"And I have a bus to drive. Are you getting on or not?" The driver's words made us both shut up and face him. He was scowling and the conductor was impatiently tapping her foot on the ground - it made us realise this wasn’t the best place for our argument. Now was my time to act.

"Tell him that. I'm definitely getting on." I was determined to stay on this bus no matter what the intern thought or wanted, as hinted at by the spiteful emphasis. The driver looked at him, still gripping my wrist and blocking the doors, and I sensed I'd won. How would I not, after all?

"Young man, better decide whether you'll be staying with your girlfriend or not because I'm closing the doors and I don't care if your hand's in the way or not." The driver said, almost making me cringe at the words 'your girlfriend'. In contrast with every other heroine, the phrase didn't make me blush profusely or hide in shame. No, my choices were either laugh or snort with disgust. I already had a boyfriend, a perfect one at that, and the day I actually decided to date this asshole behind me would probably be the day scientists found a way for a horse to evolve into a unicorn. You know, pigs flying and all those miracles.

The intern had to make a critical decision and, after throwing me a murderous glare, he boarded the bus, not letting go of my wrist all the while. I was shocked beyond belief - I thought the raven would get off and let me do whatever I wanted rather than accompany me. He pulled me to the front and made me sit down before we paid for our tickets. The bus drove off, but I was still surprised things hadn't gone my way - I’d been certain what the outcome would be and wasn’t this. Letting me go would be easiest, it was what I’d predicted from what I’d already seen from him. Then again, the stupid asshole and his actions didn’t make any sense - and it confused me since I was used to being right when it came to people’s thinking. I guessed it would just take me a little while to unravel the gears turning in his head.

"Why didn't you say anything about it?" I asked annoyedly while staring out of the window, not daring to face him. When he asked what I meant, I only snorted spitefully at the nonchalant tone he tried to pull. I would later understand it was his default tone as well. “Me being your girlfriend. You were the one telling me that last time you checked I was taken."

"Well, you should've said it for yourself then. It's not my problem what others think." He was probably rolling his eyes right now and it was annoying me to no end. This man made no sense - he went and told me I had a boyfriend, making sure I understood he was aware of it, then I got called his girlfriend and he pretended not to fucking notice it. What kind of logic was that? I sure understood the part about not caring what others thought but he didn't come off as a person who’d let just anybody get called his significant other.

"Then I can tell others you're my sex slave and you'll be chill?" I turned to face him with a sneer, but I was afraid to admit he was actually pissing me off with his behaviour. It was confusing and it was annoying - most of all because subconsciously he managed to press my buttons in a way most people couldn't.

"Of course not. That's disgusting." He snorted in disgust and I was about to turn back to the window before his lips parted again. "Plus it wouldn't be plausible. If one of us had to be the other's sex slave, then that would be you. You're submissive anyway."

"As if you would know such a thing!" I hissed spitefully, my head whipping itself back to face his nonchalant scowl. He quirked a perfect eyebrow with a slight smirk ghosting over his lips at my defensive expression. I felt embarrassment eating at my side.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" Time froze in that moment - I was a bit too aware of his hand on my wrist then. My first reaction was to redden, face heating up in a blush that was usually quite difficult to achieve. My mouth opened in an attempt to speak and save my brain the embarrassment - for a moment I’d felt ashamed for preserving my ‘innocence’ until now. And how would I not, standing next to somebody who probably had tons of sexual experience backing him up? It was impossible for me not to feel self-conscious.

"You don't ask a woman such things. Even more in public." I hissed out in a whisper, blood still circulating in my face, as the raven-haired asshole next to me ignored my glare with visible amusement lining his features.

"You're so ashamed to admit it. So insecure." He commented casually as if he was talking about the weather outside, making me angrier.

"I-I'm not insecure!"

Oh, God, I just stuttered. Under normal circumstances, I never stuttered. The only exceptions were whenever I was so afraid I could shit my pants or in situations so embarrassing I could barely stand them. A situation where you were conversing with your father's intern about your virginity was considered one, right?

"... is it obvious?" I asked a second later, actual insecurity showing itself for a second. I looked around warily, looking for anybody who might’ve been eavesdropping and then it dawned on me that even if somebody had heard us, they’d immediately tuned it out since wasn’t a conversation anybody would willingly listen to. We were discussing virginity and insecurities for fuck's sake. A normal person would avoid listening to us.

"Here. See?" He needn't even smirk for me to understand he was beyond smug due to his correct guess. For all I knew he could've made a shot in the dark and hit the Jackpot by chance. It could've been a coincidence. But now it was too late to deny anything or argue furthermore about it. It wouldn't turn back time and erase his victory or win me my own. This battle was lost. The war, however, hadn't even started, I concluded a second later while collecting my composure.

"Whatever, asshole. Just shut up." I tried placing my hands in my lap so I could calm myself down by playing with my fingers, but then I realised he was still holding me. "And let go of my wrist already." I scolded coldly, making him snort since he had nothing to sass me with. We travelled in silence for a few minutes before the raven managed to remember something that obviously prompted his curiosity.

"Where are you going anyway?"

"You'll see." I brushed it off, staring out of the window and rubbing the spot he’d held like I wished to wipe away the invisible dirt he’d left there. And since he had no choice, so he waited.

After we were out of the bus I checked the bag I was holding a few times before glancing up at the intern, who was staring at me expectantly. He was waiting for me to explain what the fuck was going on and what the fuck we were doing here, or so I guessed. So I spoke.

"I have to go and see Eren. It's his birthday." I sighed and the raven quirked an eyebrow, willingly walking by my side towards Eren's apartment. Beige building, eighth floor, first door on the right - my safe haven and the only place filled with so much of my boyfriend’s gamer energy it brought me bad luck at Mario Cart. The intern echoed his name boredly and I nodded. "Yes. Eren Jaeger." I remembered briefly how I’d struggled with his name in the beginning. I was missing teeth and couldn’t for the life of me make the smooth transition between the beginning and the vowels right after. I wouldn’t apologise for it but he would still say it was okay. The day he reassured me I’d have a lot more time to get it right was the day I unofficially became so lovesick I decided I would willingly combust if he wasn’t my boyfriend by the time we started high school. I wasn’t ashes in an urn right now, so that one worked out.

"And who is that?" The raven spoke and inserted me back into reality - the question wasn't stupid nor naive and its source wasn't either. I was sure the intern had a pretty good idea of who Eren was already. It would take an idiot not to put the pieces together and he wasn't an idiot judging by the fact he’d earned himself a sponsored nine-month internship abroad. Not to mention in the U.S.A., where everything was more expensive than it should be.

It would be fun to mess with them. I smirked at the thought, making the raven eye me suspiciously. The idea was ridiculous, him coming along was ridiculous and forcing Eren into tolerating it would be even more ridiculous. Either way, I could probably do nothing about it. Or maybe--- Annoying him into leaving isn’t t too far-fetched. He doesn’t know how annoying Eren and I can be.

I started glaring upon remembering the intern’s constant imperative demeanour - it was as if he thought he had something that placed him above me, or turned me into a hopeless puppy kneeling at his feet. I wasn't like that. I'd never be. And certainly not for him anyway. I snorted, looking up at him for a second and thinking how he noticed everything I did no matter how small, almost like he saw through me. I wondered if he could also read my mind, added to the fact he'd gotten under my skin successfully.

I snorted again, this time in disgust, and was pretty sure he glanced briefly my way. We were already in front of the beige apartment complex where Eren lived. Just a few more minutes and I'd have the brunet's pretty face in my sight instead of this... this... I looked at him when we stopped right in front of the entrance and he probably sensed my gaze since his eyes slowly left the building and locked with mine instead. I stared harder, thinking of the precise words to describe him with as my eyes narrowed and my mouth formed a pout.

This...

"Goddamn Adonis." That was in no form, shape or way an insult, nor was it meant to leave my lips, but the venom with which it was filled almost splattered on the ground, so I thought it wasn't that bad. The intern’s grey eyes didn't change, his eyebrows didn't raise or furrow and his face didn't show any kind of reaction - not a single clue that he'd even heard me. Had he reacted on the inside I would've been happy to look at it, but then again I was no mind-reader so I doubted it'd be possible even if he had.

"That was quite charming, princess, but you shouldn't compliment other guys just outside your boyfriend's home." The raven's face wasn't smug, but his voice... oh, his voice. Hearing that smooth, smug-laced, confident shit made me want to slap away that kind of voice from his vocal cords. If only voices and their varieties were like an app. It'd be so easy to mute somebody and it wouldn't even get you arrested. Life could be great.

With a glare and a snort, I spun on my heel and stormed inside the apartment complex, going up the stairs like a madwoman. I reached Eren's floor a few minutes later - sweaty, panting and with screaming muscles seconds away from giving out. I was totally out of breath, I was sick and I could feel I was about to sneeze, but I was determined not to show weakness in front of that asshole. No. Not when he was just a floor below me, smirking cockily and not having produced a single bead of sweat. I knocked on Eren's door a few times, hearing panting inside and something getting dragged across the floor before the brunet called out.

"I'm coming!" The muffled voice sounded tired, strangled and literally the complete opposite of his usual cheerful, nice and sweet timbre. A few coughs were heard on the other side before the door was opened, only to reveal the form of my sick boyfriend - a running red nose, half-lidded eyes, pale skin, messy brown locks and a blanket wrapped around his body. He hadn’t been expecting guests so his eyes widened when he saw me. "(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" His voice was hoarse and, for your information, Eren's hoarse voice was like a morning voice - groggy and husky in a sexy way, unlike mine, which sounded much like I had a frog stuck in my throat.

"Don't '(Y/N)' me, Eren. Did you think I'd forget my own boyfriend's birthday?" I crossed my arms over my chest with a pout on my lips, the bag still in my hold. A voice cut Eren off before he could actually answer.

"Isn't that what actually happened, princess?" That deep, smooth motherfucker's voice made something snap inside me. I'd totally forgotten about him and how he'd followed me here just because my father needed to know his daughter was yet to die while riding the bus.

"'Princess'?" Eren's eyebrow quirked as mine twitched in irritation and the intern finally came into view, going up the last few stairs and joining my side, all too close for my own dismissal. I was going to step closer to my dishevelled boyfriend when it occurred to me I could do something way better.

"What princess? I think you misheard something. He said my name, right?" My face was as innocent as it could be and right when his smug voice was about to ruin my fantasy of sustaining a steady relationship I elbowed him. He held his abdomen with a glare, almost like he wanted to cough. My form had hidden the action and I held back the urge to rub my elbow - what did he fucking have under that shirt? A washboard? "Right?" My voice held no spite, only a silent threat and fake innocence. He nodded in confirmation.

"You must've misheard." The raven corrected himself and Eren nodded suspiciously, his tired eyes were now beyond focused on us.

"I think you still don't know each other. Levi - this is Eren Jaeger. My boyfriend." I smiled slightly, putting emphasis on the last word just to make sure the intern understood he'd die if he tried to screw up my relationship. I stepped closer to Eren now as his teal hues eyed the raven whose movements indicated no intention of shaking hands with the brunet. "And, Eren - this is Levi Ackerman. My... " I trailed off hesitantly, glancing at the intern’s frowning visage prior to forcing a fake smile. "My father's new intern."

tag list: @unloved-cadillac

#mtij #levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #idk whether to tag eren x reader lol #there is a lot of it #and there will be a lot more #but... idk i don't want hoes cursing me in my inbox because i've set up a thirst trap #anywaysssssss #this story is frankly not going anywhere in the next... two chapters #so i'll post them real quick this week and get started with the spice #i'm really struggling to put levi back in fucking character after butchering him as a fucking kid u kno #that shit hard a hell #harder than the washboard abs

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