My Mind has Been Stained

the ocean is calling

[mathematical-logic-blog]

Oh dear Gott- rollerblades. And to add to this, he was bringing something in while wearing them. “No one has ‘spiked’ my coffee- please tell me you didn’t.” He turns his attention to the Kaiju organ. “Be careful with that!”

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

    “I spike my own coffee. Whether or not you mistake it for your’s ain’t my fault.” he hefted the gland onto the table, dropping a cauterized vessel with a splash of non-toxic blue. Some of it splattered over the line, turning yellow green and then a nasty shade of purple. Good thing he couldn’t smell much anymore, because that probably reeked. “Hwhoops!”

[thelanguageofthestars]

You’re one to talk, given that the song you quoted was nearly that old itself.  At least classic literature never gets old.

It would likely serve him right if one of his hands rotted off.  They sound like a terrible gamble and an awful idea.

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

   “Wow, I’m getting old. No wonder I saw gray hairs in my beard. And hey, Hanni ain’t bad. Well, I mean, he is, but, like, in a good way. A fun way. Talk about old tho. Dude looks older than you, and that’s saying something. Did you know that someone just turned a hundred and fifty last week? The chances of that, man. I mean, sure, it was a rich fuckwad in the Inner Continents, but, like, wow. Human bodies ain’t supposed to last beyond 60.”

[mindsindarkness]

You always come back to us in the end.  When will you stop denying the truth?  You want us here.

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

   He hasn’t touched a fresh sample in six months. 

Hannibal’s got a good supply, but it’s not infinite. Kaiju were designed to break down quickly in a oxygenated environment once the central and secondary nervous systems shut down, and greed keeps a good chunk of the better pieces out of his hands. 

   It’s weird, to think of them as gone. He’s based himself around them, even back when all there was were subtitled tokusatsu films and anime, and they kickstarted his official career as the world’s leading xenobiologist. His dream job, really. 

   What’s gonna happen when the samples run out? He doesn’t think he can go back to jellyfish and frogs. MIT and a dozen other universities have him on speed-dial, but his social anxiety’s only gotten worse with time, and hell if teaching ever appealed to him. 

   He’s got seven degrees. He doesn’t need any more, especially since no one knows what he does. 

   He’s... lonely, he realizes. Gottlieb’s gone, with his baby girl and his beautiful wife, and the Marshall’s a pile of rusted metal at the bottom of the sea. Hannibal’s only gonna keep him around as long as he brings in profits, and he doubts that Mako and Raleigh want anything to do with him. 

   Cells squirm underneath his fingertips, the ribbed edges of a thin glove pulling muscle strands apart, inspecting the pockets of STEM cells that litter each and every bit of a Kaiju’s body. They’re dead cells, puckered and withered by the lack of electrical stimulus, but he dreams of them squirming, bubbling, arms and legs reaching as Otachi pulls herself out, brain exposed and punctured by wires leading to his ears, rivers of gold running from red skies--

   His fingers slip, puncturing a STEM sac, splattering blue against his goggles. He curses, runs for the decontamination unit, strips his clothing and steps under the chemical spray. Gagura stares up at him from his right arm, beak opening to dig into his skin, beads of blue dripping down his arm. 

   You want us here, it whimpers. You want us here.

   He does, admittance coming with his head against the cold tile. Like a addiction, he’s in withdrawal, and no chemical magic that Hannibal formulates can take the place of the closest damn thing to love that he’s ever experienced. His head’s always been too full, but worthlessness has a tendency to clear house and leave him stranded in empty space, scratching at his skin in a effort to fit himself.

   STEM cells are perfect. They can mold into whatever’s needed in a body. A brain is quite necessary, isn’t it?

[thelanguageofthestars]

It is difficult to tell if you missed the reference or are deliberately ignoring it.

I have not had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Chau’s closet, although I believe Newton may have once.  How frivolous of him to make.

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

    “30-year old references aside, seriously, Kaiju Leather is incredible. There’s a way to keep the ammonia in the skin without it affecting the wearer, so the damn thing sterilizes itself. How fucking cool is that? No more wasteful latex gloves! I mean, sure, if the leather leaks then your hand’s gonna rot off, but, like, otherwise? Fucking amazing.”

[mathematical-logic-blog]

skinpaintedwithkaiju started following you

“Good evening, Newton- and please do keep the kaiju entrails off my side of the lab!”

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

   “Wow, cheery much?” he clicked his roller blades against the cement, wheeling a table full of organic matter (a scent gland, actually, from Lukon’s lower back) over to his dissection table. “Who spiked your coffee?”

[mindsindarkness]

skinpaintedwithkaiju started following you

A fertile mind.  Welcome back.

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

   He’s... he’s just hearing things again. Ringing in his ears, voices that echo phrases from literature and common speech. Earworm, really. Makes him feel like a plastic bag. 

   The atmosphere is changing too. He can feel it, in his bones and in his nose, a trickle of warmth that fills his mouth with salt. Summer’s coming, isn’t it? Dry weather never boded well for his already poor sinuses. 

   He lifts a hand to wipe the splash of red away, spreading it over Yamarashi like a biblical tidal wave. 

[thelanguageofthestars]

Do share, one can never be too ready for such an occasion as needing a bit of glove-cleaner.

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

   “Dude, you don’t need a permit for that kinda stuff. A bit of vinegar and bleach will get out most stains and, hell, ammonia ain’t all that hard to come by nowadays. You stainin’ gloves on a regular basis or something? On that note, you ever seen Chau’s closet? Dude’s got Kaiju-leather gloves! Like, holy shit!”

[thelanguageofthestars]

Do you have a licence for these toxic levels of saccharine adorableness?  I may have to fine you, sir.

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

    “Do you wanna see it~? I have licenses for all sorts of poisons!”

[thelanguageofthestars]

We’re ashes on the ground, I still hear the songs.

Life will pass me by if I don’t open up my eyes.

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

    “This world is our’s tonight~ We'll go on forever, like the phoenix, we will rise...!”

[feriowind]

I read a fic where Newt leaves Hannibal’s shoe at a memorial ‘cause he thinks Hannibal’s dead and Hannibal tracks down Newt for his shoe, and really it was just really cute!! So yeah, Hannibal is very happy that Newt took care of his shoe….

[thelanguageofthestars]

It’s a good think I subsist solely on tea and naps, then.

I’m certain the Marshall slept, Dr. Geiszler.  Making no comment as to the source of his power, though.

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

    “Welcome to the new age, buddy. We’re waking up to ash and dust.”

[blood-of-blue-hansen]

skinpaintedwithkaiju started following blood-of-blue-hansen

Chuck looked up at Newton and nodded. “Hey.” he said, eyeing the scientist carefully. He still didn’t know how to act around the biologist.

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

    “... anyone ever told you that you’re a lot shorter in person? I mean, I’m not one to judge, but the TV always made it look like the Marshall would be a good half-meter smaller than you.”

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

'Lived long enough to become the villain'

   It is the sight of her, of his pursuer and child, that entices him inward. 

She’s beautiful, their Otachi. The latest in her line, the brightest of her kind, clever as him and curious as a bird. She is like his namesake, venom stored in her parotoid gland, heavy underneath her chin and glimmering with bioluminescence all her own.

   She is fantastic, her floral muscular hydrostat curling around him, gentle tendrils reaching to sink into his skin like thousands of needles, the barest pinpricks of pain, lifting him from the rubble. She is rooting around inside of him, curiously prodding at his memories, and fondness rises as he focuses, codes and canes and chalk-dust and clinking shoes. 

   She has imprinted on him, he realizes. Like a bird, searching for her mother. She carries life within her, despite her youth, modeled after organs he no longer cares for and biological stigma that unnerves him. She is brilliant, but her child will only be more so, a idea of his that blossomed inside of her in a rebellion only they know of. If she dies, he will raise the little one, lying in wait for her to grow, grow upward and glow, his little Chibi that will herald the new age for a species that was never meant to evolve. 

   The Hunters have arrived, her partner splattered upon their hands, and it is only with their fists that he parts from her, filled with love for a life that shifts, barely, about in her stomach. 

   Perhaps he weeps when she dies, sliced in two, but his happiness blooms when her child survives, cowering in-between the corners of a building, coaxed inward into safety as the world ends and the Breach scabs over. 

[thelanguageofthestars]

If there were, I’m certain someone would have slipped some into my food my now.  What a shame.

Everyone is who has time for naps.  Or at least, people who need to stay alive to save the world.

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

    “Don’t tempt me, dude. A little pinch’v butter and you wouldn’t notice a thing.”

    “Never seen the Marshall take a nap, and he’s perfectly fine. Don’t think he ever sleeps either, considering the size of his coffee cups and the pills he takes. He’s nuclear powered, man. Analog as shit.”

[thelanguageofthestars]

Isn’t there medicine for that?  Not that I’m certain anything to make you more high strung would be a good idea.

A nap would probably not go awry, though.

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

   “Dude, don’t preach to me about being ‘high strung.’ Ain’t there medicine to get that stick outta your ass? I could always whip some up for you. Bit’a speed, bit’a hydroxyine, and bing-bada-boom, we’re both getting shit done at the speed of light!”

   “Besides, who has time for naps when the world’s gotta be saved? The pilots may get 12-hour-3-hour sleep schedules, but science waits for no napper.”

[doctorhgottlieb-blog]

Lived Long Enough to Become the Villain. Because, hell, no story ends happily.

Hermann stood atop a pillar and watched as the world around him crumbled and collapsed into fire and darkness. It didn’t matter that it was in his mind’s eye at this time. The Hivemind guaranteed to help him make was he seeing a reality—for a price he now realized was not so grave as he had once thought. The old world was being torn apart—and in it’s stead, a world where Hermann was the King.

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

     Ego fills his throat, acid greater than anything he has felt before, and it scalds his vocal cords closed. 

    Hermann is overpowering. A titan, small and frail but stuffed full of strength, underneath his skin; Hannibal had been huge, oppressive, irresistible with charm and girth, but God’s Love overtakes even that. He knows he’s not the only one who flounders, stumbling in childish confusion, because he can hear Trespasser-Knifehead-Otachi-Slattern screeching, crying, their will strongest of their kind. 

    He feels them split, slip into him, and they propel his feet forward, throat swelled with saliva that is not yet acid and hands that are not yet talons. He, they, want to knock this one from his throne, the lies or truths seduced beforehand unknown to their lonely ears, aware of only the basic functions of their own self and society. 

   The world crumbles in their sight, even as the ground of the laboratory remains still underneath his legs. Perhaps glass shatters, following a pillar as it crumbles, their gills flaring in tune with his bared teeth. 

[thelanguageofthestars]

Science is as much not knowing as it is knowing, and that’s one of the appealing aspects of it.  Are you quite alright, you dysphoric dust speck?

[skinpaintedwithkaiju]

   “’m tired, bro, and things are quiet. Quiet never suits me. Makes me itchy. Probably ADHD, that.”