If anyone reads this, I am sorry.
I've had this idea for a while, and wanted to write content on my female OC and Porco Galliard.
This chapter is meant to be choppy and confusing-and all of Human! Porco's scenes/memories telling his romance story will chronologically be out of order.
What shows in his dreams/memories are generally triggered by what's going on around him.
So I thought, why not kill two birds with one stone and cram my shitty head canon pairing and have Porco be a freak of an animal with human level intelligence and give him mass culture shock after living in the 1910s-20s and jumping to a modern world (and being a Raptor on top of it).
This is also based on the AOT infinite loop/multiple time lines theory.
I only own Ikaara as an OC.
And their three kids.
The stillness of the night was nigh deafening as Porco sat in silence. The soft glow of the moon's light illuminated through the tapestries and cascaded in an otherworldly glow upon the bed.
The blonde sat in the quiet of the night, hazel eyes watching Ikaara lay awake in bed.
The woman's back was towards him, rivers of scarlet reaching like tangled vines and crawling over her shoulders and pillow.
A quiet, nigh inaudible trickle of a sob caused her shoulders to heave.
Porco's lips molded in a sullen frown, brow crinkling in worry. Shadows haunted his features, hair disheveled and eyes cracking with rivers of fatigue.
Slowly, sluggishly, a warm hand reached out and pressed flush to her trembling shoulder. His hand moved to tiredly comfort and soothe.
Slowly, sluggishly, tenderly did he bend down and mold his lips to the soft curvature of her cheek damp from silent tears.
His weight shifted, and his developed arms moved to wrap around her, and pull her close.
His head buried itself against the crook of her neck, rivers of red dominating his vision. Yet still, his lips sought to mold and pepper her skin in tender kisses.
He was too tired of saying sorry.
He was too tired of mourning.
He was too tired of being tired.
He was too tired of breaking down and sobbing.
He was too tired of feeling guilty.
He was too tired of feeling angry.
He was just tired.
He was too tired of seeing his lover grieve and cry so much, her eyes had become blood shot and swollen.
He was too tired of seeing his lover become a shadow of what she once was.
He was too tired of seeing her not eat.
He was too tired of seeing her not drink.
She just slept, and when she didn't sleep-she cried.
Porco didn't know what to do anymore.
How could he describe to a three year old why Mommy was so sad?
Why Mommy was not feeling well?
Why Mommy cried and cried and cried?
Why Mommy didn't play anymore?
Why Mommy didn't sing lullabyes or tell bedtime stories anymore?
How could Porco explain to a three year old that Mommy wasn't mad at her?
That their daughter didn't do anything bad?
That their daughter wasn't a bad girl?
That Mommy was just sad because...
...Because their daughter's baby brother and sister were gone?
Gone.
Just like that.
A ten month old son, and a four day old newborn.
Gone.
Just like that.
How to explain to a three year old that her siblings were gone?
Dead.
How to explain to a three year old that Nana and Pop-Pop were gone, too?
Gone.
Dead.
Just like that.
How to explain to a child what dead was-when she had no concept of death?
How to explain to a child what war was?
How to...to pick up the pieces again?
How to move on?
How to heal?
Ikaara was mourning.
For days.
Weeks.
Porco was not.
He was, but he was not.
He could not afford to mourn.
He couldn't mourn his parents.
He couldn't mourn his babies.
Because he couldn't do everything on his own.
But he had to, because his lover shut down, and was locked in a deep, dark place.
He couldn't get her out of it.
Couldn't snap her out of it.
The crib within their quarters was empty.
A silent, yet deafening reminder.
Ikaara's body still provided milk for infants that were no longer there.
In a sense, he understood.
Ikaara's body was a home for his children for nine months.
She spent every waking day with them.
Porco only spent four days with his youngest.
Ikaara was mourning her children.
But they were his, too.
He needed to mourn, too.
He had just as much right to mourn as her, too.
He lost more than her, yet she was the one to fucking mourn and break down.
It was a rage that simmered inside the Warrior.
He lost his brother!
He lost his fucking parents!
He lost his little man and baby girl!
And yet he wasn't breaking down and becoming catatonic!
However, whatever rage and pressure built up inside of him, smoldered.
He was too tired to be angry.
Too tired of being tired.
Too tired of being strong.
The blonde's lip trembled, and his brow crinkled in rising sorrow.
Fear.
Desperation.
When Porco spoke, his words were laced in exhaustion and desperation, "...Ikaara...please...baby, come back to me..."
Warm tears began to well upon his lashes, stinging at his eyes and blurring his vision.
His breath hitched, grip tightening.
"...Ikaara, please...I'm so fucking scared...I don't know what to fucking do..."
He felt the trickle of water roll down the bridge of his down and down his temple.
His voice cracked, "...I need your help...I can't do it on my own, baby, I can't...Please, Ikaara...I need you..."
A shifting of her body, and Ikaara turned herself towards her partner. Her sapphire eyes were rimmed red, the light of the moon illuminating the dampness of her glazed gaze. A look of sudden realization spanned across her features.
Soft, feminine hands rose to clasp the sides of his face. Her palms were warm and clammy against his cheeks smeared wet with tears.
Her chapped lower lips trembled, and her voice quivered in sorrow, horror and shame, "Porco-I'm so sorry!" Her voice cracked and broke.
She didn't mean to!
She didn't mean to be so selfish!
A breath of reprieve-of relief slipped passed his trembling lips-and through it-a smile, eyes shining through the dim of despair, "Shhhhh, it's okay, Ikaara, it's okay-"
The red head shook her head firmly against the pillow laden with stains from tears, "No-no, no, no, no, it's not, no, it's not!" Her face flushed rising shame, embarrassment, and sorrow. Her voice was so loud despite it's cracking, she was almost screaming, "It's not okay, Porco, it's not! I'm so-mmph!"
The woman found herself silenced as her lips were sealed by his with a forceful kiss.
Their teeth clinked.
She fell silent as she became enveloped by the warmth of his lips and the heated breath that danced along her clammy skin in puffs.
The kiss was forceful.
It was angry.
It was wrathful.
But then it slowed, simmered and softened.
Like the gentle motions of a lapping sea.
When the blonde ceased the kiss, lips hovered over hers, lightly brushing with each spoken word, "...Marry me."
His words were soft and barely a whisper.
Ikaara thought she heard wrong at first, wide eyes flicking to his golden, brows knitted in confusion.
Shock.
"...I...I...Porco?" She thought she heard wrong.
Had to hear wrong.
Thus, she searched his eyes for an answer.
She merely felt him breathe against her, broad, muscular chest expanding. A quiet rumble escaped his throat, "...Well?"
It was then, Ikaara realized he was serious.
Serious.
"Y...You want to m...marry...me?" Her question was quiet, and suspended with disbelief.
Marriage!
Marriage!
A fatigued, yet loving kiss molded against her lips, "I wouldn't have asked otherwise..." Porco's response was a quiet grumble.
His response caused the corners of the red head's mouth to stretch into a smile.
Then a grin.
A true, genuine grin.
Not a forced or fake one.
"!...Me? Me? Me! Me!" The woman's head bobbed up and down in an answer. She was too flabbergasted to say anything else.
Marriage!
Marriage!
"Thank you!...Thank you for wanting to marry me...Thank you for loving me...Thank you for forgiving me..." Warm tears cascaded down her smiling face, however laden with shadows, and her lips sealed his into a slow and tender dance.
She felt the raw tension in his body melt and relax.
She felt his breath quiver as he exhaled.
She heard the relief in his voice when he next spoke, "You came back to me...That's all that matters. And...I didn't want one of my regrets to be left on a paper that read, 'I didn't get to marry you'."
Once more, her lips met his, and held for several seconds.
The Warrior could feel his lover's smile through the kiss.
They would recover.
They would heal.
They would get through this.
He wasn't alone anymore.
When she pulled away, her voice was soft and tender, "I'm here, now. You can rest. I'll be here when you wake up."
Wake up.
...Wake up.
...Wake up!
Golden eyes shot open through distorted, watery vision.
Angry, bared teeth molded by gnarled lips seemed magnified like a giant's through the glass.
Panic, and the feeling of suffocation overwhelmed him.
Gnashing teeth!
Gnashing teeth!
Gnashing teeth!
Clawed hands flailed and swung with force.
The glass shattered.
The warm fluid flowed out upon the floor.
His body landed heavily with a damp slap of flesh upon marble with the echoing of ossified armor.
Confusion reigned upon his mind, and a harrowing, high pitched scream rimmed with madness tore from his throat, saliva and fluid erupting from his armored jaws.
Armored, reinforced talons clacked upon the damp, cold floors upon front and hind legs, killing claws poised.
His vision was blurred, senses overloaded.
Blurred bodies and screaming, panicked voices.
Titans!
"That thing's not a raptor!"
"Doc, what the fuck did you make?! That thing has fucking armor!"
Not Titans!
But...Why was he in his Titan form and these humans were so damn big?
Or he so damn small?
Alarms began to blare and wail.
Asset out of containment.
Asset out of containment.
Asset out of containment.
Gunshots echoed.
"...What the hell is that thing?"
Owen wasn't sure what he was looking at.
It looked like a Raptor.
But then, it didn't.
The beast was golden of scale, feathers adorning its head and neck that slicked back along its hide. Its head appeared covered with thick osteodermic plates. It's mouth looked unnatural and more like square, interconnected puzzle pieces. And behind that-a second row of teeth. Sharper. Like shark's teeth.
Its taloned fingers and feet were also covered with the same armored plates, jagged and sharp.
Its eyes were sunken in, beady and protected by the bony armor.
His nares were something that was more akin to a skeleton's nasal cavity-and thus, quite grotesque.
It had blood that was slowly drying upon its claws and maw.
It's tail idly twitched, feathers unfurling, and then settling back down.
It was asleep.
Sedated by security.
But not before killing, it seems.
"It is a Utahraptor." Was Henry's calm answer.
Both he and Owen stared down at the animal.
Grady blinked once.
Twice.
Thrice.
The Raptor Handler then pointed a calloused finger towards the overly grown beast, "That thing ain't no Raptor."
"It is bioengineered, but make no mistake-it's base genome is Utahraptor." Wu paused in slight thought, "I want you, Mister Grady, to take this animal into your pack. But do not put it with the other Raptors, please."
The ex marine raised a brow, "Why?"
"Because it's male."
"No, I mean-Why give this animal to me? I can't train it like the others. It's an adult. I raised my Raptors since they hatched-this thing is an adult. I can't get the same bond with it."
The doctor was quiet for a time, head bowed as he listened. When his head rose to meet Grady's concerned-and confused-gaze, he answered, "Mister Grady, I do not want you to train this animal. I want you to test it. I want to see what makes this animal tick. Do what you will with it, but please, keep the safety of the staff and your animals in mind. They are too valuable to lose-and this one-is...An outlier."
Owen didn't answer. He merely crossed his arms over his chest, and looked once more at the odd animal through the Raptor's paddock.
The golden scaled beast was knocked out.
Beady eyes open.
Staring, focused at nothing in its unconsciousness.
The four members of his pack were staring at the new comer in curiosity through the bars that separated them.
Well...At least they seemed happy about having another Raptor to make Raptor friends with.
Or get a boyfriend.
The man grimaces slightly at the thought.
Those would be some ugly Raptor chicks.
Wake up.
Wake up!
...Wake up!
Porco's eyes flicked in unconsciousness, pupils wide and attempting to wake from his torpor.
But the sleep was too heavy.
Too strong.
Too dominating.
Reality, memory and dream-all blurred together.
The sunlight fluttered through the closed curtains, illuminating the fabrics in light and highlighting the stitches in their tapestries. The bed was a tangled mass of covers and limbs sprawled out. Ikaara lay with a pillow over her head, tangled and matted hair reaching out like growing vines underneath.
She could not sleep.
Because she knew-it was morning.
And the time for sleeping was over.
When the pillow was removed, her sleep deprived features stared at the ceiling. Bags were under her eyes, a film of sweat plastered to her skin. Her hair was disheveled and pulled every witch way.
Her hand holding the pillow fell limp, and plopped down upon the shoulder of her bed mate.
Porco grunted, though did not stir otherwise.
Eeeew.
She touched gross, clammy meat shield arm.
Ikaara was currently sprawled out like a starfish in an attempt to stay cool.
It failed.
The woman propped herself upright. The only movement her partner made was his breathing. Despite this, he was awake.
He, too, looked horrible.
Drool was dried upon a corner of his mouth, an eyelid closed more over one eye than the other. Porco's hair was disheveled and tossed every which way. A particularly thick lock caked itself on his nape. Strands fell over his brow and face.
It looked like the man just came back from three fucking tours simultaneously.
His skin was clammy, and bags were under his eyes.
"…..I have to pee." Ikaara murmured.
No 'I love you.'
No 'Good morning.'
Just an 'I have to pee.'
The red head would then proceed to get out of bed.
By rolling over the living speed bump that was Porco. He grunted as her weight rolled over him, and her knee crushed a nut.
The woman would then roll off the edge of the bed, feet hitting the floor. She would then move sluggishly to the bathroom to go pee.
Wake up.
Wake up!
...Wake up!
Memory, reality and dream-all blurred together.
The sound of running water filled the bathroom. Steam fluttered up and began to fog the mirror.
Ikaara stepped inside, and allowed the warm water to pelt her form and run down her body. Her hair became damp and matted, and she closed her eyes to both enjoy the warmth of the water upon her fatigued body, and rest her heavy eyes.
Ikaara didn't bother to open her eyes as she heard the bathroom door open.
Heavy, shuffling feet were upon the floor.
The light thud of clothing hitting a rug.
The shower door opened, then closed.
A pair of developed arms wrapped around her stomach. She could feel Porco wedge his face into the crook of her neck, nose smooshing and lips lazily molding in the slightest of fatigued kisses.
His damp and matted hair cascaded onto the woman's shoulder.
Ikaara didn't bother to open her eyes. She was too tired to, "Eeww…..don't touch meeeee…..You'll get me pregnant…."
Again.
Ikaara was tired of love.
Forever.
Porco only produced a rumble from his throat in response, and buried himself deeper into her skin and hair.
Ikaara swore she heard faint snoring over the sound of flowing water.
Wake up.
Wake up!
...Wake up!
Dream, memory and reality-all blurred together.
The sound coffee being brewed and the smell of bitter ground wafted through the air. Steam rose from an enraged pot, and then a cup as it was poured.
The woman set the coffee down with a soft clank upon the wooden table.
Porco didn't bother to look down at the drink set down in front of him. His elbow was propped upon the table, knuckles pressing against his jaw. His eyes were closed, hidden under messy and disheveled bangs despite signs of drying from his shower. His shirt was half buttoned and loose in his lack of care for personal appearance.
Only briefly did one of his eyes crack open, a hazel iris barely visible.
He merely closed his eye upon seeing it was coffee.
"Honey-"
The blonde's eyes snapped open, and instantly went to close.
He blinked once, twice, thrice.
Trying to fight off the heavy weight of sleep.
But each time he succeeded, his eyes grew heavier.
His eyes fell shut, and did not open, "...Hmmm?"
"Your shirt's on wrong."
His eyes opened once again, brow furrowing. Then the right eye fell shut.
The left glanced down at his shirt.
He stared, mind reeling and trying to comprehend.
"...No?" Was Porco's confused gurgle in response.
He wanted his shirt inside out.
Never mind how he managed to button his damn shirt.
Fuck if he remembered.
Feminine fingers, soft and gentle, brushed along his jaw line and cheek, "Whatever you say, Daddy."
He could practically feel the smile in Ikaara's voice as her fingers slipped away.
The crying of a baby broke the stillness of the early morn, and Porco's eyes snapped open. His muscles tensed to rise.
The feeling of Ikaara's hand upon his shoulder stopped him, "I got her...Rest..."
Porco closed his eyes once more, head nodding down.
The crying of the baby ceased.
It was replaced by barking.
Barking.
His eyes snapped open.
They didn't have a dog?
They didn't have a-
Porco's eyes snapped into focus, pupils narrowing against the rays of the sun.
The barking of the dog resumed.
Only it wasn't a dog.
It was Charlie.
Barking in play-and to get the attention of the newcomer. The green and white female's clawed fingers were wrapped around the bars, golden eyes alight with excitement and tail wagging.
It was an action that made Porco scream in terror-moving to rise-to run.
He tripped, and fell to the ground with a grunt.
Swiftly did he recover, moving upon all fours and turning to face the strange creature, claws poised.
Wait-
-Something was wrong.
-Something didn't feel right.
-He...He wasn't in his Titan.
-He wasn't in his nape.
-He...He was the Titan.
-Wait...Did...Did he hhhhave a...tail?
Porco twisted his neck to look upon his body.
...H...Hhhhhee...Has a...tail...
A twitch of the facial muscles under armor.
Nnnno...no..nonononononnoonoooooo...
Confusion, and panic began to set in as Galliard wheeled himself in a circle upon taloned feet.
'Round and 'round he went, twisting and twirling, looking upon his body in disbelief.
...He wasn't a Titan!
He wasn't a Titan!
He wasn't a fucking Titan-What the fuck was he?!
Porco went to grasp and claw at his face.
Horror overtook him as he noticed his hands.
They weren't his human hands.
And the sure as fuck weren't his Titan hands.
They were the hands of some...fucking monster-devil!
And three fucking fingers were on each hand!
Three!
Fucking!
Fingers!
What Hell was this place?!
Galliard didn't know what to do.
He did all he could do.
He screamed.
I envision Porco would adjust to a Raptor's body very quickly, seeing as his Jaw Titan is quadrupedal rather than bipedal. It's just that he's be used to moving on all fours as a Raptor.
Writing Tired Daddy Porco is fun.
As is writing Spazzing Ape Shit Porco.
If anyone got this far, I apologize for writing this.
I like to think Owen was watching him freak the fuck out and wonders if the new Raptor has brain damage.
:)