• HRT : 3/21/2017

Local Nephilim Lady | 🏳️‍⚧️She - Millicent | AuDHD and Plural | Kvetching and Fetching~
🔥@sixarmedsweater🔥
💕@scrundlebundle💕
💋@TenshiZX 💋


Remmyzilla
@Remmyzilla

Kaiju zookeeper who KNOWS they're mutating into a kaiju themself due to consistent exposure to highly radioactive monstergrrls, but is trying really hard to hide it because they do NOT have time to deal with this shit right now. ...But then again...?


CritterGrinds
@CritterGrinds

Scaly hands can at least be bandaged up or gloved. Clawed feet? Wear boots. Sharp teeth? Masks still seem like a good idea, nobody's going to ask questions about that. Might all look a bit excessive when the eyes get a bit weird and sunglasses become a necessity, but maybe they're just feeling a little under the weather, an offhand statement they immediately need to clarify the mask has nothing to do with. The habitual snarling and growling is a little harder to justify, as is the sudden standoffishness toward the other kaiju grrls, but slight adjustments to personality are still, at least, not too hard to find excuses for. Didn't get enough sleep, perhaps?

And then the tail comes in, and/or the wings, and/or the second pair of arms, and/or the horns, and if somehow they manage to hide all of that (good luck), they're certainly not going to be able to explain it when they show up to work a couple feet taller than they were the week before.


Remmyzilla
@Remmyzilla

The arctic fox's gray summertime pelt bristles and floofed out, their mind racing seven different channels of static all at once. A crease in their zookeeper's rad-resistant jacket won't go away no matter how many times they smooth it out. Sleeves tighter, the tail loop of their shorts about to snap. Fingers clench and relent beneath the table, toes fidgeting, their relentlessly bouncing leg barely enough to keep their tail from flailing and wagging wildly in tense irritation. Stone faced, nodding, calm as they can pretend to be as the blurred stimuli of so many meaningless words crash like waves against them. Not here, not NOW. Amber eyes, softly luminous, even in the flatly lit glare of the world's worst LED florescent replacement bulbs, dart across the room. Clock. Presenter. Supervisor. Ceiling tile. Clock. Presenter. Supervisor. Ceiling tile. Clock. Presenter. Supervisor. Ceiling tile. Clock-

BREEP BREEP BREEP!

A timely alert, a saving grace to short circuit the deadlock, and worth the sudden attention of several suits. Maple Leaf Rag starts looping in their head.

"Sorry I have to take this, proximity alert I think the critter is getting overly interested in the guests again I'll be back sorry just tag me on the summary email I'll catch up good job everyone-"

The shapeless faces probably mumble a few voices of dismissive acknowledgement as Aiden wheels back their chair, spins it, and scampers off in practiced, professional urgency. One paw fumbles with their phone, long black claws skittering across the screen's numerous gouges and chips. Fingers finding purchase, silencing the timer ding that sounds absolutely nothing like an exhibit alert, the other grasping and trying not to crumple to washroom's door handle as a shoulders shove leaves a slight dent in the laminate. A velcro pocket flap nearly tears off the fabric its sewn to as they yank it open. Stitching strains as heavy digits fumble for the stainless steel case hidden within.

Two stygian black gelcaps, nearly their last dose, spill out into shaking hands. An unholy mix of ferrocyanide salts, polycrystaline diamond sludge, and gods can't even imagine what else: anti-mutagenic magic goop. It won't stop the inevitable, grimacing, taking note of their newest snaggletooth, but...It should buy a few more years of pretending to be normal. A few more years of meetings, static, buzzing, mingling with the other squishies before becoming the park's newest minor attraction, if they were lucky. Or else ending up on the news in a pile of rubble if they weren't. A grimace, a deep breath, trying not to let 6 figure's worth of exotic pharmacology touch their forked tongue.

Gawd this stuff sucked. A glance at the door out. Gawd THAT stuff sucks. A glance at their work phone, checking in on the big girl, currently busy napping curled up with a decommissioned cruise ship like a body pillow. A small smile, a twinge of jealousy, a touch of longing as blunted claws run through arctic white hair, padded fingertips brush against the glossy little points of the horns that appeared last month. Maybe...if they were REALLY lucky they'd end up like that indestructible dork.

"Bet SHE doesn't have any bullshit meetings. Must be nice, monster grrl. Must be fuckin nice."


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in reply to @Remmyzilla's post:

The one petty, pedantic thing I will not compromise on is that for a monster to be a kaiju it has to be some kind of fucking gigantic and have a distinct sense of personality, not "just" a feral beast but big. This is how I do, no I will not make a discussion out of this.

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