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soundwavereporting · 4 years

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Presenting...RODAN’S BIRTHDAY, written for @fauveshumankaiju. Written entirely by hand, and then frantically typed up whilst trying not to look at the screen. Any and all errors are entirely mine. Bonus picture of the og draft at the end!

The snow had stopped falling and settled onto a comfortable, chilly layer of white on the ground when his alarm woke Rodan up.

Ni was already gone—morning person he was not, but a shipment of some kind of fancy, non-IKEA furniture was set to arrive this morning.

Meanwhile, Ichi and San remained in bed with him.

“Happy birthday,” Ichi mumbled into his back.

Rodan was laying comfortably in Ichi’s arms, and San was comfortably settled in Rodan’s arms. Reluctantly, Rodan stretched, feeling Ichi grasp his waist, hearing San mumble a protest.

“Gotta work,” Rodan said, fumbling for his phone. He unlocked it and swiped past a flurry of birthday texts and Facebook messages. Rick had said he was calling out today, wasn’t he? And Quetx had been using her non-rollover PTO this week; she wouldn’t be back till New Year’s Eve at the earliest. Which…gave him an idea.

Rodan sat up. “Hey. You doing anything today?”

Sneaking two-thirds of the Ghidquorum into the lab wasn’t hard. The security guard couldn’t care less who showed up as long as one of them showed a badge—and Rodan did. San was smiling—a genuine smile, Rodan was pleased to notice. He loved San’s smiles. Ichi’s face was a careful mask of cool neutrality. Rodan hadn’t planned on Ichi coming—not that he minded, of course. It was just that he had extended the invitation assuming Ichi would be busy, and only San would be free. Of course, where Ichi went during business hours, his laptop followed, and Rodan was quick to provide him with the lab’s wifi password.

As he had expected, the lab was deserted, just as he had left it. San set down his bag and wandered over to the locked cabinet and began fumbling with the lock, ignoring Rodan’s offer of the key with a wave of his hand. Ichi pulled out his laptop and settled on one of the vacant desks, and Rodan went to work.

Rodan had left a batch of samples simmering overnight. He examined them, then sat at his desk, absently scribbling notes.

“Your handwriting is…charming,” San said carefully. “Is that the correct word?”

Rodan snorted. “Not all of us went to ritzy private schools that taught cursive.”

“Fair point.” San seated himself on one of the lab stools and continued to watch Rodan write.

“Any plans tonight?” San asked, and Rodan narrowed his eyes.

“Is that an invitation for a date, or…?”

San visibly brightened. Rodan had persuaded him to put on a pair of safety goggles. They sat perched on San’s forehead (endearingly, Rodan thought), looking for all the world like an earnest grad student. Impulsively, Rodan leaned forward and bumped his nose against San’s.

San smiled.

“Monsuta Island Bar? Six-thirty?” From this distance ,it looked like San had six eyes. Three Sans. What a concept. “I don’t know, San…” Rodan pulled away and pretended to consult his nonexistent itch. “I did have a date tonight…”

Before San’s face could fall—the man did still have trouble picking up American sarcasm. Rodan pressed a quick kiss to San’s nose. “Of course I’ll be there.”

San’s smile lit up the room. He busied himself with rifling through a former coworker’s desk, and Rodan slipped out of his seat to bother Ichi.

Out of the three of them, Ichi was the best dressed—he had at least put on a suit that probably cost more than Rodan made in a year. Rodan’s phone buzzed—Goji, probably, wanting to know if he would be at the bar today. That would be…interesting. Gojira and the Ghidorah’s truce—or whatever it was—had been in effect for a grand total of 36ish hours.

Privately, Rodan wanted to hope it would last. Ichi had taken his hand, promised him that they would not go after Gojira until the new year, if Gojira agreed. For Rodan. All for Rodan.

And Gojira had agreed, which had lifted a burden off Rodan’s shoulders he hadn’t known existed.

Regardless, tonight would still be…interesting.

The rest of the day slipped by quickly.

San was content to create his own strange concoctions in the junked flasks and test tubes, though his habit of peering directly over the mixtures and sniffing and Rodan on edge. Ichi had situated himself on Rick’s desk, in front of the most neutral-looking of the lab’s walls as he Skyped with his multitudes of global business partners.

At exactly 4pm, the door to the lab opened, and Ni stepped in. Dressed in an elaborate gold and black jump suit made by a designer whose name Rodan couldn’t even begin to pronounce, Ni peered at the three of them over his golden sunglasses.

San looked up from his experiments.

“How did you find us?”

Ni blinked. “I track all of your phones,” he said, as though that were the most normal thing in the world. He turned back to Rodan. “Are you going to wear that to Chez Honrie?”

“He knows,” Ichi said, without looking up. Ni’s lips twitched. “You know, we could simply purchase that little bar,” Ni offered. “If not demolish it entirely, at least get it up to minimum health and safety codes.”

Rodan snorted, trying to quash the instinctive panic rising in his chest. That was something they would do, wasn’t it—and they would think Rodan would like it. Or they would do it, because they didn’t know what else to do.

“If you close MIB down, how will Battra ever make ends meet?” Rodan joked, hoping NI wouldn’t pick up on his discomfort.

“Who?”

“The EMT’S brother,” Ichi supplied dryly. “The one you mistook for her.”

“Ah.” Somehow, Ni managed to look (slightly) sheepish without his expression changing one bit. “I did not have my glasses that night.”

“Have we agreed we’re not buying and/or renovating anything tonight?” Rodan interrupted.

hearing the tone of his voice, San had looked up from his experiments, and Rodan shoved his irritation-slash-fear down and managed what he hoped was a genuine smile. San dumped his concoction into the lab sink and washed his (ungloved, Rodan noted slightly despairingly) hands. He moved to sit beside Rodan, close enough that it felt more like solidarity than simple companionship.

“Anyway…” San looked at Ichi, who lad lost interest some seconds before and had gone back to his laptop. “Do you have anything else to complete before we leave?” San asked.

“You are apparently the most reliable employee here,” Ni added, giving the empty desks a cursory glance. “It is not surprising you refuse to resign. This place would clearly fall to ruins without you.”

Rodan smiled. He accepted the peace offering for what it was, leaving his lab coat on his chair and taking a chance, squeezed Ni’s shoulder.

“Still,” Ni said. “Are you going to wear that?”

Rodan looked down at his shirt. He had gotten into the habit of consistently doing aunty since meeting them, and this was a clean shirt.

“What’s wrong with this shirt?” Rodan asked.

It was one of his favorites, an aloha shirt Angurius had gotten for him two Christmases ago, a dark red print with orange-ish patterned dinosaurs overlaid with vague, tribal-esque patterns probably dreamt up by some white college kid for their Redbubble. But it was soft and comfortable, and entirely Rodan’s style.

“I like it,” San said.

“You like everything he wears,” Ni retorted. “I do have some shopping in the car for him. Ichi?”

Ichi shrugged.

Rodan rolled his eyes. “If the Ghidquorum is finished debating the merits of my wardrobe? I’m ready to go.”

Ichi nodded and closed his laptop, then looked up, scrunching his nose in distaste. “What is that smell?”

Rodan inclined his head to the lab sink.

San grinned.  

As it usually was, at this time of the evening, the bar was pleasantly not-crowded. Later, the other regulars would trickle in—assuming they had actually shown up for work, Battra and Hedorah’s shifts didn’t end till 7, and though Goji’s shift had ended at 6, she liked to shower and change before heading to the bar. Which left…

“Rodan!” Baragon’s dusty, eager, freckled face was the embodiment of pure, obnoxious joy.

“Baragon.” Rodan allowed himself to be pulled into a bone-crushing hug. Faintly, he heard San snickering. Ni had refused to step more than a few feet into the bar, settling down at a booth near the pool tables, looking exactly like a frightened car. Rodan wondered what it would take for him to leap out and scamper out of the bar.

“Hey.” Angurius clapped a hand on Rodan’s shoulder. “You’re wearing the shirt!”

“It’s a favorite,” Rodan said.

“Then you’ll really like this one.” Angurius held up a gift bad decorated with bright, gaudy balloons. Angurius nodded encouragingly as Rodan peeled back the white tissue paper o reveal another aloha shirt, this one a light brown color with a palm tree and volcano pattern.

Rodan wasn’t yet drunk enough to strip off his shirt—the first shot of tequila was still on his tongue—but he slipped the new shirt over the old one.

San pressed another drink into Rodan’s hand.

“Seem familiar?” He asked, and Rodan raised a brow.

“Tell me,” San said. His eyes were dark—troubled, Rodan thought—though his voice remained light.

“If you had known—” San gestured to himself, then to Ichi, then to Goji, who had just walked in, but was already glowering at Ni— “Would you have taken the drink?”

Rodan stepped up on the tips of his toes—even so, he barely came up to San’s chin. ROdan tapped his chin, and San obediently tilted his head down.

His lips were warm.

“Was that enough of an answer?”

San frowned, though his expression had visibly brightened. “I do not know—I might need some clarification, yes?”

Rodan took another sip of his drink and grinned.

San had taken a seat on Rodan’s usual barstool, and when Rodan looked at him questioningly, San smiled innocently and patted his lap.

Rodan was tempted, though he elected to sit on the barstool directly beside him. He finished off the drink and set the glass down, as it settled in his belly, warm and filling, somehow like a fire smoldering over coals.

Ichi and Gojira were talking—arguing, more likely, though it hadn’t yet turned violent—and at some point, Mother had shown up and was nursing a bottle of something bright blue and tantalizingly shiny. Paragon and Angurius had taken over the pool table. Mando and Biollante were comfortable tucked into a booth just outside of his peripheral vision. To his left, luring by the pool table was a man Rodan didn’t immediately recognize, but looked enough like Goji at first glance that Rodan immediately labeled him as “half sibling of Goji’s”, a category that so many in Monsuta seemed to occupy.

The door jinxed again.

This time, the atmosphere seemed to darken as Gigan stepped in, and Rodan could practically see Goji’s hackles rising.

“Rodan!” And then Jet Jaguar and Megalon stepped and inside, and it seemed all was forgotten.

Privately, Rodan was grateful for…whatever Jet seemed to have going on with Gigan and Megalon; he was happy enough for the guy, but his weird redemption-seduction thing they had going on had been enough to divert some of the attention away from Rodan and the Ghidorahs.

“Merry Happy Birthday!”

Unlike the grimace-smile that was plastered on his face whenever he was on the clock, Jet’s smile was genuine. Megalon was grinning from ear to ear, holding out a set of packages out to Rodan. Genuinely curious, Rodan slipped a finger between the wrapping paper and tape and popped it open.

Ah. A book on the chemical reactions that took place during the cycling of a home aquarium. From Megalon, then. And the other gift…

“Thanks!” Rodan examined the decorative test tube-turned-pen-holder, etched with R. Rodan in clear, professional lettering. “Both of you. Really.”

Megalon beamed.

Jet and Megalon grabbed their drinks and sauntered over to Gigan, who had stopped to alternate between chatting with Ni and shooting glares at Gojira.

Rodan waved his hand, as if by magic, another drink appeared.

Fascinating. Out of habit, Rodan sat in his seat, and landed in San’s lap.

“There you are.” Rodan could hear San smiling. “Enjoying the free drinks?”

“Free?” Rodan squinted at the drink in his hand.

“For you friends as well,” San said. “We are trying to fit in here. For you.”

Rodan felt his face heat up. He turned to face San, who was staring at him with something akin to…devotion. It was nice, to be wanted, even if the ones doing the wanting were a couple of gentrifying, foreign luxury real estate developers who wanted nothing more than to squeeze him and his friends out of their homes—

“As nice as that is,” Rodan said, “I’d rather you do it for you.”

“For me?”

“For yourself,” Rodan clarified. “Because you want to.”

“Hmm.” San was still frowning, though he seemed relaxed enough. “I will have to think about that. But tonight, it is all about you. Agreed?”

Rodan smiled. “Agreed.”

The night slipped by pleasantly enough—Battra and Hedorah arrived in due time; the former had slipped Rodan a gift card and was trying to hit on Goji’s brother or half brother or whoever he was, and the latter sat at the far end of the bar, alternating between frantically texting in between shots of cheap whiskey.

Ichi and Goji were still talking about…what, Rodan wondered? Their unofficial truce? The weather? Rodan?

And Ni and Gigan had resorted to carving intricate designs on the tables—the one closest to the door already bore the marks of Ni’s first foray into the bar.

“Here.”

Rodan’s eyes widened as he took in the drink. Beautiful and beautifully on fire, all red and gold in the dim lighting.

“You finished it!”

“Compari, vodka, a dash of Mothra’s tea blends…” Manda trailed off. “Our gift to you, my friend.”

“So,” San said, after Rodan had finished his drink. “How was your birthday?”

Roan took a long look at the bar—at Angurius and Goji and Mothra, at Biollante and Manda, and Gigan and Jet and Megalon, and even Baragon. And Ichi. And Ni.

And finally, Rodan looked at San.

“The best,” Rodan said.

#fauveshumankaiju #rodorah #mine;#i am truly Tired after writing this but it was FUN and i hope i didn't absolutely mangle your interpretations of these boys...

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fauvester · 5 years

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Also got a 93 on an 83% average exam *does a crude dance* I’m rewarding myself with a night of crap tv and drawing

#plugs my godzilla blog fauveshumankaiju if you want to follow ALONG...#my life #meds cool

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fauveshumankaiju · 4 years

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soundwavereporting replied to your post “soundwavereporting: Presenting…RODAN’S BIRTHDAY, written for...”

@fauveshumankaiju I realized too late after writing all that that I hadn’t even @‘d you. So you couldn’t see it. Smh @ myself

i scroll thru my tl each morning like an old timey man reading the newspaper and by GOD i’m glad I do

#soundwavereporting #the way the time zones worked out it was right up at the top too #I HOPE YOUR CONCUSSION GETS BETTER TOO SKDHJFJHKHG

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ckret2 · 4 years

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are there any gijinka kaiju fics that you would recommend?

Basically everyone I follow who's doing gijinka kaiju is doing art rather than fic. But @fauveshumankaiju has some one shots mixed in with the art. (And also has my fave gijinka verse!)

I don't seek out gijinka fic so that's the only one I can recommend.

#anonymous #ask #(gijinka content is the kinda stuff that like if it lands in front of me and it's good I'll give it a firm nod of approval)#(but i don't go looking for it because I prefer the monsters lmao)#(there's undoubtedly more good gijinkas out there I'm just not the person who'd know about them)

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georgetheblob-art · 4 years

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*clanging pots and pans gently* hey!!! vengeance gifts for my fwends @kaiju-vibin and @fauveshumankaiju!!!

we gots Vibin’s excellent take on the stronk shrimp Ebirah and Fauve flavor Mothzilla!! thank you to both of you for being so kind to me and for making such wonderful things all the time ❣❣❣❣

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georgetheblob-art · 4 years

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you may want to consider handing over your lunch money...

@fauveshumankaiju‘s business boys, as a big ol thank you for all the kindness as of recently ❣

#*cackling from the cracks of the sidewalk* REVEEEEEEENGE #fauveshumankaiju #king ghidorah #godzilla gijinka #kaiju #kaiju gijinka #fauve I hope you know that I am in awe of the fact that you just like...#picked up the kaiju and made this whole world based on them as people characters #and went running into the distance with it #your MIND.#please accept my humble worm offering both as thanks and as a tribute #also ni's bowl cut is everything to me thank you

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galionne-vibin · 4 years

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I drew a good scientist/fauxhawk boy today as a warm up

@fauveshumankaiju I feel like I didn’t do him justice at all but I hope you still enjoy this qwq

#fauvester #fauveshumankaiju #rodan #my art #others' gijinkas

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galionne-vibin · 4 years

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Tumblr was being a meanie but here’s Ichi in a big fluffy jacket.

@fauveshumankaiju thank you for the suggestion! You’re right my boy does deserve nice things, even if he has big snobby energy.

#ask #fauveshumankaiju #ichi #ghidorah #art meme #this feels very much like a Niels outfit too

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soundwavereporting · 4 years

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last bit of writing for the night...more humankaiju for @fauveshumankaiju, starring gojirin, battra, and megalon. entirely un-proofread, save for spellcheck.

“So…” Gojirin said. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

She swiveled in her chair and gestured to Battra’s far-blacker-than-normal black eye.

“I told you,” Battra said. “You’d know if you were old enough to go into the bar.”

“I turn 21 next month,” Gojirin muttered, then prodded at Megalon’s chair with her foot. “Megalon’ll tell me.”

Megalon looked at Battra helplessly. Battra sighed and shrugged.

“He and Rodan tried to have a sword fight with the pool sticks.”

“Cues.”

“Pool cues,” Megalon corrected. “They tried to have a sword fight with the pool cues to commemorate Rodan’s birthday.”

“And then?”

When Battra shrugged again, Gojirin huffed, spinning Megalon’s chair with her foot. Agreeably, Megalon lifted his legs, sticking out his arm to push against the counter to spin faster.

“I saw my sister this morning. You don’t get a split lip and bloody knuckles from a pretend sword fight.”

“Oh!” Megalon stretched out his foot to bring his chair to an abrupt halt. “Battra’s boyfriend started that.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Battra snapped, though privately, Gojirin thought he would look far more intimidating were bits of his hair not wrapped in foil.

“I don’t even know his name,” Battra mumbled, and Megalon gawked.

Gojirin waited. Battra fiddled with his foil-wrapped hair and glowered. Megalon looked like he wished he was anywhere but here.

“Fine.” Battra peeled back a bit of foil, then crinkled it back into place. “Rodan and I were ‘fighting’, he got me in the eye, and then the guy lunged. Not for me, or even Rodan. For Goji—like he was just waiting for the chance to go after her.”

“Ah.” Gojirin smiled weakly, trying to push back the instinctive worry. As much as she loved her half-remembered father, he had certainly made multiple questionable decisions during his time in Monsuta, resulting in an unknown number of half siblings and step siblings for herself and Goji to find. Learning Biollante was their half-sister had been a shock, but in hindsight, Gojirin supposed she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

But Battra’s story felt a little too much like the ways Gojirin imagined meeting her other half siblings would go. She hoped that wasn’t the case—maybe the guy wasn’t related to them at all. Maybe Battra and Megalon had just missed something, some nonverbal cue, a perceived slight spoken when neither of them had been listening.

“The good news,” Megalon said, “Is Gigan didn’t get arrested! He helped Jet separate them, even when the new guy took a swing at him!”

This time, Gojirin’s smile felt genuine. “That’s great! How’s he liking the new arrangement?”

“Yeah.” Battra swiveled his chair to face Megalon. “Enough about me. How’s the new arrangement?”

Megalon smiled, and Gojirin was suddenly reminded of the kids she student-taught, the ones with half-realized crushes. The real, genuine happiness made Gojirin feel a little more at ease. If Gigan, of all people, could fall for Megalon and Jet Jaguar, surely there was a good chance the new possibly-sibling would turn out okay.

“It’s nice,” Megalon was saying. “We haven’t stayed at his place yet, but this Sunday he’s gonna come over to meet Antonio.”

Abruptly, Megalon snapped to attention, waving at the window. Gojirin and Battra turned to look.

Speak of the devil. Jet Jaguar was crossing the street, carrying two coffees.

They watched as Jet sauntered over to the hair salon. His smile, Gojirin thought, was nearly as wide as Megalon’s.

“Morning.” Megalon jumped up and pecked Jet on the cheek. “Brought you coffee—sorry, ‘rin, Battra. I didn’t know Megalon was having company at his appointment.”

From anyone else, it would have sounded wholly insincere, but Jet Jaguar, with his easy, kind smile managed to make it sound utterly genuine.

Battra waved his hand dismissively, and Gojirin shook her head. “I saw these two and thought I’d drop in,” She said. “Goji made Mothra and I breakfast.”

“She okay?” Jet asked, and Gojirin’s worry returned in full. “She took a couple hits last night, and so did you—”

Jet reached over to examine Battra, who scowled and pulled away.

“Your eye looks pretty bad.”

“’s fine.” Jet Jaguar pursed his lips, then turned to Gojirin. “I’m sure Goji told you this morning, but I’ve got a guy in lockup claiming to be your folks’ brother.”

Gojirin’s heart sank.

“I guessed as much,” she admitted. “I guess it was too much to hope that Dagon stopped with me and Goji and Bio.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Jet said. “Megalon and I will be there for you.”

Megalon nodded eagerly. “And Gigan, too,” Megalon added. “Maybe.”

“I’ve gotta get going,” Jet said. “The guy’s lawyer is scheduled to arrive in a few minutes.”

“Good luck.” Megalon pulled Jet down for another kiss. “See you tonight?”

“Of course.” Jet Jaguar’s eyes were soft. “Giovanni’s? Beef lasagna with a side of garlic bread.”

Megalon grinned. “And an order of ribollita for Gigan?”

Jet held up his notepad. “He told me this morning.”

Jet Jaguar’s phone vibrated insistently.

“Gotta go.” He hesitated, then leaned down to kiss Megalon’s forehead. “Later, Battra, Gojirin.”

Gojirin waved as Jet Jaguar raced out the door.

“Bye!” Megalon said. “Love you!”

Megalon froze, and his face turned bright red.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yep.” Battra’s voice was dry.

“I mean I do,” Megalon said. “But I thought I’d say it at a better time. During a candlelight dinner, or a sunset cruise, or…”

Megalon slumped in his seat. “Yeah. I wasted it.”

“Does Gigan know?” Gojirin asked.

“That I love him? I don’t know. I think so. I hope so.” Megalon ruffled the barber’s cloth and watched the stray strands of hair fall to the floor. “I haven’t told him, because I don’t want him to…I don’t know. Freak out or something.”

“Seems fair,” Battra said. “I’d probably leave if someone said they loved me.”

“Even if you loved them back?”

“Probably.”

Gojirin wondered if Megalon’s frown matched her own.

“Why?”

Battra shrugged and reached for his bag. He rifled through it, pulling out a palette of eyeshadow and tossed it to Gojirin. “Here. For your channel.”

Gojirin turned the palette over in her hands, squinting suspiciously both at the package and at Battra’s blatant attempt to change the subject.

She decided to take the bait. For now.

“Have you thought about cutting down on the makeup?” She asked.

“As a makeup YouTuber, isn’t that contrary to your brand, or whatever?”

Gojirin tossed the eye shadow back to Battra. “It’s expired. That thing’ll give you an eye infection.”

Battra mumbled something inappropriate under his breath. “Hedorah gave that to me for Christmas.”

“Welp.” Gojirin leaned back in her chair. “Getting back to the topic at hand—”

“Should I tell him?” Megalon asked. “I want to—I really want to. But I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“What you need to do,” Gojirin said, drawing on all her previous experience from watching a multitude of rom-coms. “You gotta tell him. Maaaaybe not when Jet’s around, but you just need to sit down and let him know how you feel.”

“You think it’d be okay if I did that?”

“Well, he loves you, doesn’t he?”

Megalon hesitated. “I think so,” he said, finally. “Even if he doesn’t, I still do. Is that okay?”

Gojirin shrugged helplessly. Megalon had quickly reached the upper limit of advice she felt qualified to give. “You know him better than I do. Probably better than anyone does.”

“I wish more people could get to know him,” Megalon said. “When he smiles—when he really smiles—it lights up the room.”

“My hair’s done,” Battra said, peeling off the bits of foil to reveal obnoxiously yellow locks of hair. He splashed water from the faucet into his hair, only succeeding in getting it all over his face. “Gotta run.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Battra had stood and moved to leave, but paused, looking at Megalon, then Gojirin.

“I don’t want to be my sister,” Battra said. “That explanation enough?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. I don’t want…” Battra gestured at the salon window. “I don’t want to be the crappy carbon copy of my sister. She’s the responsible one, the caring one, the one who knows who she loves and they love her back. The one that’ll take care of kids because their dad can’t be bothered half the time because he’s busy trying to win a game of pool and pick up guys whose names he doesn’t even know. I don’t want to be her,” Battra said. “Because then I’d hate me.”

Megalon wiped his eyes.

Gojirin swallowed.

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“I know.” Battra sighed. “I’ll figure it out. Besides, at least I know I’ve only got one sister, huh?”

“Heh.” Gojirin’s final, best attempt to distract herself faded away. “You’ve got that, I guess.”

“Hey.” Megalon reached over to squeeze Gojirin’s hand. “I’ll be okay. I think. Goji’s tough.”

“She is,” Gojirin admitted. “But I don’t know if I am.”

“Out of the three of us, you’re the only one who can handle a pack of 30-plus kids,” Battra said. “I can barely handle two.”

Gojirin managed a weak smile. “Thanks. I’ve gotta go too, actually. Bio asked me to meet her for lunch and I don’t want to be late.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Battra said. “If you want.”

“I’ll come too.” Megalon had removed his own foil and peeled off the barber’s cloth. His “Let me just pay and I’ll catch up.”

“‘kay.” Gojirin wiped her eyes and watched as Megalon practically skipped to the counter. He was happy, Gojirin knew, and Battra was…happy enough, or would be, she supposed.

Which just left her, and everyone else in Monsuta.

#fauveshumankaiju #mine;#writing energy gone now....time for bed...#gojirin #battra #megalon #kaiju #jet jaguar

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soundwavereporting · 4 years

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an entirely self-indulgent ficlet ft. battra (in jail), written for myself and also for @fauvester; thank you for letting me write...the boy

Battra stared at the cold, unforgiving concrete floor, and the colder, more unforgiving cell bars and wished he’d had the sense to put his jacket on before charging into his latest misadventure.

As it stood, he had been armed only with a tire iron and some righteous anger and clearly, that hadn’t been enough.

The security guards who had caught, then tackled him onto the unyielding tile had decided it would be prudent to restrain him with knockoff flexicuffs they’d probably bought in bulk on eBay, then pulled them so tight the plastic dug unpleasantly into his wrists. They were tight enough that Jet had run over to Ceasar’s apartment, hoping that the guy had a bolt cutter. Or something. And then, because they were miserable, indoctrinated pawns working for a evil corporation, one of them had thought it’d be funny to kick a guy when he was down.

“Your PD should be here within the hour,” Jet had told him, before leaving for Ceasar’s. “Want me to take pictures of it?”

Jet had gestured helplessly to the cuffs, then to his torn shirt, which more or less failed to conceal the emerging bruise on his chest. Battra had just shaken his head. It was a hopeless endeavor—the Elias Corporation made more money in a day than Battra would make in his entire life. Even if the trespassing and attempted vandalism were dropped, a lawsuit would be dragged out until Battra gave in.

In hindsight, Battra supposed he was lucky that the Elias’s newest geo-engineering facility was right on the edge of the county, meaning it was Jet who’d showed up to (re)arrest him. And it was Jet who’d driven him back to down and escorted him into one of Monsuta’s two cells. Who had called his PD and honored his demand not to ask Goji for her bolt cutters because that’d mean telling her what happened. Which meant Mothra would know. Which meant…

Battra sighed.

His shoulders ached.

Curiously, he looked over to the other cell. He’d thought it empty, but its occupant had just been quiet, sitting silently in the shadows as Battra had been brought in to lick his wounds.

Battra flushed—this definitely wasn’t how he wanted to reunite with the still-unnamed guy from MIB—handcuffed and more or less utterly humiliated. At least, Battra thought, the guard had the decency to not hit him with his own tire iron.

“Hey,” Battra said. He still didn’t remember his name—or maybe the guy had never told him. “You still in here?”

He’d figured the guy was rich enough to get bailed out within the hour.

“Yes.”

Battra hadn’t remembered the guy wearing glasses, but there they were.

“I have called my lawyer, and he will be here soon.”

“Huh.” Battra sat up, wiggling his fingers experimentally. He was no EMT-trained Mothra, but as long as he could still move his fingers, they would be fine. Probably.

The guy had been sitting on his cot, but as Battra watched, he told and walked to the edge of his cell—as close as he could get without hitting the bars.

“What did you do to receive accommodations in this…establishment?”

Battra leaned against the far wall. He wanted to stand up, if only to get a better look at the guy, who was just as attractive (if not more) than he had been three nights ago, but decided to refrain, if only because he didn’t want to look so…short? Pathetic? Battra wasn’t sure.

“You know Elias? Elias Inc?”

A nod.

“They opened a climate engineering facility a few miles away.”

“And…?”

Battra tapped the heel of his boots against the concrete. The guy at least had the decency to meet his eyes directly, not gawking at the handcuffs. Or the bruise. It was almost a shame—mentally, Battra had been rehearsing a “like what you see?” line in anticipation of the guy being a total dick.

“Most geo-engineering is designed to alleviate global warming,” Battra said. “But Elias wants to heat up the oceans around Monsuta. Apparently the local ecosystem is perfect for breeding the latest organic plankton superfood. At the expense of our actual ecosystem.”

“That sounds…” the guy trailed off, looking at the window, then looked back at Battra. “Malevolent.”

“You said it.” Battra gave in and stood up, walking to the edge of his own cell. “So I figured, I’d throw a wrench in their plans, even if it was only temporary.”

Battra rested his forehead against the cool metal of the cell bars. “I should’ve asked Goji to come along.”

The guy’s head snapped up, and Battra realized a second too late he had made a mistake.

“You would trust her to help?”

“Of course.” Battra tilted his chin up, wondering if the guy could see the barely-visible scar—a half-forgotten reminder of a squabble that had turned rough. “Kids who fight, fight together. Or something. But she’s good, and it’s…”

Battra forced back a sigh. It certainly wasn’t his job to stick up for Gojira.

“She’s good,” Battra repeated, lamely. Might as well finish. “And Dagon left her too, you know? Like he left Gojirin, and Biollante.”

“Dagon did not leave me,” the guy said, quietly. “That would imply that he was ever there to begin with.”

“Which is Dagon’s fault!” Battra tugged at the cuffs, which were just as unyielding this time as they had been the first dozen. “Not hers. And not yours. She’s making—made—a life for herself. Don’t take that away from her.”

“And you would like me to do what?” The guy’s voice was even, but far colder than it had been a moment before. “Give her a hug and tell her to call me when the Toho family reunion is happening? Purchase a quaint little apartment at the seaside and join her big, happy family?”

“No!” Distantly, Battra heard Jet’s car pulling into the parking lot. With any luck, he’d bring the bolt cutters, and then Battra could at least continue this argument with the ability to gesturing with his hands. “That’s stupid. What—what do you want to do?”

“Sorry I was late,” Jet said. “Had to run over to Manda’s. I guess the last officer who worked here decided to take all the department-issued equipment home. Or something. Here, hold your hands out.”

Obediently, Battra held his writs out through the bars. Jet snapped the cuffs off with practiced ease, kicking the discarded plastic away with one foot.

“Do you need anything?” Jet asked. “Water? Ice?”

“It’s fine,” Battra said. “But like I asked—please—”

“I know.” Jet’s eyes were soft. “I’ll be at the front, if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

Battra waited until Jet’s footsteps faded before moving back to sit on the cot. The adrenaline had left him drained and shaky, and he was in the middle of debating whether or not to call out to ask Jet if he’d managed to grab his jacket when the guy spoke again.

“Why don’t you want her to know what happened?”

“Maybe it’s none of her business.”

“Uh-huh.”

For what felt like the umpteenth time that day, Battra sighed.

“It’s not her knowing. She’ll tell Mothra. My sister,” Battra added, when the guy shrugged. “I don’t need her to worry.”

“I find it interesting that you are advocating for amicable sibling relationships when you are not honest with your own sister.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to end up like me.”

“I highly doubt that is possible.”

Battra fought the incredibly juvenile urge to stick out his tongue. He wondered if a glare was a suitable alternative.

“You.” Jet was quiet, when he wanted to be—he had walked back to the cells without either of them noticing. Or had he even left? Battra wasn’t sure. “Your lawyer is here.”

“Thank you.” Frustratingly enough, Jet hadn’t used the guy’s name. Battra wondered if he would ever learn it. He stepped out of the cell and adjusted his glasses, then turned back to face Battra. “I will post your bail as well.”

Battra gawked.

“You—you don’t need to do that. Really.”

“Consider it a token of goodwill,” the guy said. “For fighting for lost causes.”

“I’ll be back out there eventually,” Battra said. “You didn’t hear that, Jet.”

“No promises.”

The guy’s smile was a little too thin to be truly genuine, Battra thought. But it was a nice smile.

“Be seeing you around.”

“Likewise.”

He expected Jet to return quickly, and he wasn’t disappointed. The cop’s eyes were wide, and more than once, he looked over his shoulder as though the guy (and his lawyer) were just around the corner.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know,” Battra admitted. “Really.”

“Hm.” The door swung open and Battra stepped out. Jet handed him his jacket. “I’d stay away from him, if I were you. He seems like he’s looking for trouble.”

“No arguments there.” Battra looked down the hall. He wondered where the guy lived—how could you avoid someone when you didn’t know where to avoid? Monsuta was a small town, and it seemed to be getting smaller every day. “Weird.”

“Yeah,” Jet said. “Weird.”

#fauvester #fauveshumankaiju #mine;

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