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evilhasnever · 3 months

Note

xiyao Pacific Rim au?

Hell yes. I have been thinking about this for about 3 years, but never wrote any of it. I just opened a doc and jotted down this snippet for you! Hopefully someday I can turn this into a whole fic.

I give you 500 words of stranded/traumatized Jaeger pilot Lan Xichen in post-apocalyptic Yunping:

~*~

“Meng Yao… what are you doing?"

“The Kaiju won’t wait for us to run,” Meng Yao replies without taking his eyes off his work, “according to my scanner it is only 160 minutes out, unless it changes course.” The scanner in question looks like it was salvaged from parts, but it is beeping in a very believable, alarming manner. “We cannot evacuate the town in time, and we are unlikely to save ourselves even if we start running very, very fast. We must fight back.” He dives back elbows-deep in the cockpit with feverish focus, ripping and soldering cords like he knows what each of them does. Lan Xichen is once again overtaken by awe and instinctual faith in this small, brilliant human being.

When Lan Xichen had washed ashore near the refugee encampment, banged up and near-catatonic from the loss of his brother, he had never imagined someone with Jaeger training would be hiding in these backwater ruins. His savior was one Meng Yao of Yunping, a wiry young man in ripped overalls, with too many tools hanging off his belt and too-hard eyes in a gentle round face. As it turned out, his clever mind could rival Lan Xichen’s own AI navigator - he’d taken only a few days to assess the damage to his Jaeger and write up a repair plan.

Twin Jade was stretched out on the beach, looking like a sleeping giant half-covered in brine. She was not in a bad state overall, save for the smashed cockpit - but she was down one co-pilot, so Lan Xichen had given up on resurrecting her altogether. Meng Yao had not.

While Lan Xichen consumed himself with worries over Wangji’s fate and his lack of communications, his savior worked day and night to get both pilot and Jaeger back to some semblance of functionality. (Lan Xichen paused to chuckle over the mental comparison of hot soup for himself and scrapyard parts for Twin Jade, both sourced by Meng Yao with unfailing efficiency).

“The repairs are only temporary," Meng Yao's voice brings him back to the present emergency. "But I can essentially jumpstart her for long enough to keep it running in emergency mode for a couple of hours. I’ll need you to do most of the fighting while I keep an eye on the systems.”

“You want to pilot with me?” Lan Xichen’s eyes widen.

“Well, you can’t pilot by yourself, can you?” Meng Yao chuckled nervously, without looking back from the console. “And even if you could, your leg is broken.”

“Drifting can be very dangerous if you have never…”

“I have trained before,” Meng Yao interrupts him. “I can pilot, Lan Xichen. I can,” he swears, pushing his bangs out of his eyes frantically. “I know I am asking a lot, but–”

“I trust you,” Lan Xichen says unthinkingly, reaching out to wipe a smear of grease from his cheek. “I only… wish to apologize for what you may see in the drift.”

Meng Yao only laughs, shaking his head. His eyes are avoidant. “Likewise.”

Neither of them paused to doubt whether they'd be compatible. That much was a given.

Lan Xichen enters the repaired cockpit, leaning all of his weight on Meng Yao. He plugs in with slightly-shaking hands.

It is terrifying to let Meng Yao see all of what you are. But he is scared, too. He is, you realize, more afraid than you are. As if his secrets could be any worse than the monstrosity inside yourself. You smile at him with all the warmth you can muster, smiling past the fears in your head. You suddenly want to see him more than anything.

#pacific rim AU #xiyao #xiyao in yunping #lan xichen #jin guangyao #meng yao #in which I make meng yao the specialest boy ever as usual #of course wangji is fine btw #it is canon #shiome fic #xiyao drabbles

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hawktims · 10 months

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developing a hyperfixation for pacific rim in 2023 is actually painful bcs 80% of the fandom is dead but also it's been fun being in my own little bubble as i discover all of the content that's been accumulating for the past 10 years

#pacific rim #raleigh becket #mako mori #stacker pentecost #maleigh #mako x raleigh #raleigh x mako #charlie hunnam #rinko kikuchi #bcs tell me why i found the character bios GdT posted on his twitter last night and cried reading them bcs i miss them so much #and then found out that he has a completed (COMPLETED!!) screenplay of pacrim 2 just sitting there in his drafts that will probably never +#see the light of day #the sequel that couldve been....#also got sucked into the maleigh of it all #and eventually i will have to do a deep dove of fics from a decade ago #ive only read the ones from recent years since those were easiest to find #personal #mara speaks

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sweetjaegerlove · 2 years

Link

by ughdotcom

Newt can feel Hermann having a nightmare, so he goes to comfort him

Words: 547, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Pacific Rim (Movies)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Newton Geiszler, Hermann Gottlieb

Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb

Additional Tags: Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Nightmares, Stuffed Toys

pacific rim April 30, 2022 at 12:01PM via AO3 works tagged 'Pacific Rim (2013)'

#pacific rim fics #IFTTT #Feedly #pacific rim

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milflewis · 3 months

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idk if i am understanding the prompt of title correctly but i will submit: 1) valewis + "travel song" or 2) dantteri + "people are fragile things"

Lewis hums something quiet and slow on their walk back to the Shatterdome. It reverberates through the Drift and settles around Valtteri’s shoulders.

He catches the edges of a memory spent handing Sebastian the wrong tools on purpose as the blond man swears at him, laughing, German music playing low on the radio behind them.

It took Valtteri a very long while to get used to how easy it is to drift with Lewis.

He always felt like a Titan — even before Nico died and he dragged their Jaeger back to shore alone. Something mythic and unstoppable. There was a certainty to Lewis Hamilton that sometimes felt like the stuff stories are made of.

Valtteri has never done particularly well at the thought of not measuring up. Worse when their pre-Drift potentially was so high.

Lewis feels tired. He always feel tired. His mind is calm and cool like a lake, and Valtteri lets himself sink into it.

"What's it like being in Lewis’s head?"

He signs off on his action report. "Boring, like you said."

"We both know that's a lie. I only said it to get a rise out of him." Daniel drums his heels against the desk, a rattling repeating pattern meant to burrow under the skin. "You forget I've known him before Nico died and he became all Solemn and Serious and Grieving Widow."

Valtteri considers that as he finishes the rest of the paperwork. His eyes ache faintly. "What was he like?"

Daniel takes the pile and sets it aside. "Don't you know?"

"I don't," he says, although he catches glimpses of it on occasion, in the way Lewis moves or how his mouth shapes certain words, the lingering traces of youth, of anger, of secretly believing you would never die. Sometimes, in the middle of a fight, when they are being pushed back, when debris is falling and there is barely any time to think, Lewis’s mouth curls and snarls, sharp and vicious and feral, and Valtteri can feel it in his gut, and he thinks that's you; that's what you've always been.

"And here I thought we'd moved past you lying to me." Daniel drums another beat against the desk, staccato and just off tempo enough to set Valtteri's teeth on edge. "He was a little shit. Still had the same smart mouth — him and Sebastian used to get up to so much trouble. Almost as much as what I’ve heard him and Nico did. He laughed more. All dream — that Lewis was.”

"And then Spain happened," Valtteri says.

"Life happened," Daniel corrects, and Valtteri doesn’t bother hiding his eye roll. "We all have our Spains."

Daniel takes the opportunity to sling his leg over Valtteri's lap, and Valtteri absently rubs his thumb over the knob of Daniel's ankle.

"Fuck off," Valtteri says, but he doesn’t mean it. Hasn’t meant it with Daniel for a while now. Valtteri presses his knuckles into the ball of Daniel's foot, keeping a firm hold on his ankle so he can't jerk away. "Is this going to be a problem for you?"

"Depends on whether you’re going to show this to Lewis or not.”

"He sees everything." He digs his knuckles in harder. "But he doesn’t poke around. I think he was embarrassed to see us kissing the last time we drifted."

"That's Lewis all over," Daniel says fondly. "Will flirt with anyone and anything if he thinks it will give him an advantage but is terrible with genuine feelings."

"Speak from experience?" he says. He doesn’t know what to do with this thing in his chest. He swallows.

"We were too young to be serious." Daniel’s gaze is steady and unflinching, as if Valtteri is a reporter or donor for Daniel to spin around and around and around, every hinge and crack and vulnerability mapped and laid bare for Daniel to do with as he pleased.

He shoves Daniel’s foot off his lap and stands so fast the edges of his vision darken. He needs sleep. He needs his fucking head back.

"Does this bother you?" Valtteri asks, hating himself for it. "Lewis being in my head?"

Daniel doesn't even have the decency to be surprised by the question. Valtteri hates him. "No, not in the way you mean."

"And how do I mean it?"

"You want to know if I'm upset that I will never know you like Lewis knows you."

He flinches. "Are you?"

"No. What you and Lewis have is not something I would ever want or ask for."

"I didn't ask for it. There is a war and they said jump,” he snaps, the fury so close to the surface that he is afraid his ribs will snap and it will come boiling out, and god help anyone caught in its path. "I don't want it."

He will not be able to hide this from Lewis when they drift next. He hasn’t been able to hide it from him in the first place.

Guilt coats the inside of his mouth, thick and sour. He swallows and swallows and swallows.

He tries to breathe.

"Hey," Daniel says, so close that Valtteri jerks back in surprise. "You all right?"

"Fine," he says, coming to the belated, and embarrassed, realization that Daniel has likely been speaking the entire time. "Got distracted. Sorry."

"Did you just apologise? Has Lewis lobotomised you?"

"That's not funny," he snaps, too quick and too sharp to play it off as a joke. He draws another breath, the sound of it rattling in his empty head.

"He hasn't done anything to me. He leaves shit alone, like I said."

"Have you lobotomised him?" Daniel says instead of what Valtteri is expecting, which is asking if Valtteri wants Lewis to do something to him.

"Not yet," he says, which only seems to worry Daniel more.

Slowly, as if Valtteri is a rookie on his first deployment and Daniel doesn’t want to spook him, Daniel drags fingertips up his jaw and over his cheek. His thumb traces the scar over his lip.

Holding himself still and quiet, Valtteri didn't protest when Daniel cups his face or when he touches their heads together, or when he says, soft and revenant, "You're a fucking disaster."

He laughs and kisses Daniel.

"You don't want in my head?" he asks.

"Yes," says Daniel. "You're a private man, Valtteri, and a hard one to read. I never know what you're thinking at any given moment."

"I will not say sorry - if that is what you are looking for."

"I'm not looking for anything," Daniel says, and Valtteri doesn't need a line to his head to read the sincerity there. "I won't take your privacy from you. When you do decide to share something with me, even if it's just your opinion on my life choices, it's because you chose to trust me, and I wouldn't give that up, not for anything."

"If it would end this war?"

He means it as a joke, but Daniel, who acts as if he takes nothing seriously, does not take it as one.

"No," he says, as if he had put great thought into it, "not even if it meant that."

"Shut up."

"Yes, sir," Daniel grins, pressing a kiss to Valtteri's neck before undoing his own pants zipper and, with a frankly ridiculous shimmy and hop, kicks them off. He isn't wearing underwear.

"Stop trying to distract me."

"I know you're lying because you once told me, and I quote, you liked me better when I'm naked."

"I would have to be a dick to say that."

Lewis stays smiling as the reporter asks his question, smug as ten fucking cats.

Valtteri’s stare sits heavy on his face. The reporter swallows thickly, eyes darting away.

“Well?” He asks again. “Do you think the fact that you yourself have said that you can be too stubborn led to the rift in your and Nico’s partnership, and therefore his death?”

Lewis’s eyes are distant.

At least, they didn’t ask about Michael again, Valtteri thinks. Or Fernando.

“Can I take this one?” Valtteri asks. The reporter frowns at him but Valtteri is looking at Lewis.

Lewis blinks at him. His eyelashes are ridiculously long. They’ve just come from drifting — having taken out a three alarm Kaiju, worn and tired and spilling over into each other’s heads.

Valtteri loathes sharing his mind with another person more than nearly everything else in the world, for all that he tries to keep that boxed away from Lewis. It is times like this that he almost doesn’t mind it.

Lewis raises an eyebrow at him, quietly amused.

Never let them see, Valtteri remembers his dad telling him, hands bruise tight on his shoulders — except — no. Not his dad. They are Anthony’s hands, and that’s the grey yellow tint that Lewis has on all his childhood memories.

Valtteri turns to the reporter. His dark hair is long around his ears and he is looking at Valtteri with thinly veiled contempt.

“Go fuck yourself,” Valtteri tells him calmly, and Lewis laughs, startled.

Valtteri feels his surprise skittering down his spine, followed quickly with smothered childlike delight.

Lewis’s face is soft for hours after. His mind even more so. He smiles to himself throughout the twenty-five minute dressing down General Wolff gives Valtteri.

"What's your favourite kind of ice cream?" Lewis asks as they make their way to the gym. It is stupid early and the corridors are empty and dark.

Lewis does this sometimes. Asking Valtteri questions about himself that he could just pick out of Valtteri's head as he wishes. It is more endearing than Valtteri likes.

He stomaches it only because he thinks Lewis is doing it more for his sake than for Valtteri's. Lewis, Valtteri had been pleased to find out, is only selfless up until a point. A relatively small one, all things considered.

"Mint," Valtteri answers.

Lewis pulls a face at him as he pushes the gym door open. There are deep circles under his eyes, like someone dug in their thumbs and pressed. "That's so gross, man. Why don't you just eat toothpaste?"

Valtteri laughs before realising it. It's loud in the quietly still room. The sound echoes off the bare metal walls.

"My second favourite is pistachio," he says, and Lewis sticks his tongue out in disgust, obvious even in the dark as he throws him a bamboo stick.

Valtteri clears his throat. "Did you tamper with the sim, Tsunoda?"

"Of course not, sir," Tsunoda says, offended. "That would be -"

"Against regulations?" Gasly says.

"- cheating. I don't cheat."

When Tsunoda tries to turn that offended look on Gasly, Gasly just tugs Tsunoda back where he wants him, which is close enough for Gasly to prop his chin on the top of Tsunoda’s head. Tsunoda, like with most things where Gasly is concerned, bears it with minimal complaint.

An ache opens under Valtteri’s breastbone. It has been a little over two weeks since he has last seen Lewis. Longer since they’ve drifted. They had been taken out of the rotation after Valtteri got injured, and sent across the world on Charm-The-Rich-Into-Giving-Their-Money-Even-Though-Don’t-They-Know-The-World-Is-Fucked-And-They’re-Living-In-It-Too missions and rented out to different Shatterdomes for pep talks and training seminars.

It has been the longest they’ve been apart since they were first paired up. Maybe Valtteri shouldn’t be surprised to be missing him but he is.

He hasn’t had someone to miss in a long time.

He’s even more surprised to find himself missing Daniel.

+1.

In the end, it’s just Lewis and Valtteri and the big wide yawn of the bottom of the sea.

“You are living,” Lewis tells him, mouth grim, and Valtteri tells him to fuck off and to stop telling him what to do.

Lewis laughs, which is as partly what Valtteri was going for, and doesn’t say it again, which is the other thing Valtteri was aiming for.

Valtteri wakes up coughing with Lewis beating on his chest. “Ow,” he says. He thinks Lewis might’ve broken a rib.

“I told you you’d live, man,” Lewis tells him, hands wet and cold on his cheeks, because he’s an asshole.

“I hate you,” Valtteri says, throat sore with sea water. He stares up at the cloudless sky. He can faintly hear the thrum of a MEDEVAC-HELO in the distance.

“Uhuh,” Lewis says, and he’s grinning. Even drenched and bleeding and backlit by the sun, he is beautiful. It’s fucked up, Valtteri decides.

“My ribs are sore,” Valtteri tells him.

“I told you to get out before I blew the bomb,” Lewis replies, unsympathetic. His fingers are gentle in Valtteri’s hair, and he drags his body behind Valtteri’s so they’re further in the ejection pod, propped up against his back, weight off his ribs.

Sebastian looks decades older when they step onto the tarmac of the Shatterdome, half stumbling out of the helicopter. Lewis walks towards him. His eyes are wet. It hits Valtteri in the stomach like a gunshot. "Hey."

Sebastian takes a step forward too. His next word is spoken so softly that Valtteri can only read his lips.

"Yeah?"

Lewis just shakes his head slightly and makes a sound that might be a laugh. “I really did want to make that promise to you.”

His shoulders shrug like he wants to hold out his arms.

And then Sebastian is running towards him, colliding into his chest and throwing his arms around his neck and burying his face against his shoulder. Lewis wraps one arm around his back and presses the other hand to the back of his head.

Lewis is crying into his hair and Sebastian’s crying, too, weeping against him with such force that Valtteri would think his heart was breaking if he didn't know the opposite to be true.

He feels a hand slide into his and he squeezes it tightly. Daniel squeezes back and looks at him with a watery smile. His face is a little blurry and it's only then that Valtteri realises he has tears in his eyes too.

“Lewis broke my ribs,” Valtteri tells him, and then kisses Daniel’s laugh off his mouth.

#these were perfect thank u! kinda combined the two for u . sorta #pacific rim au #valewis #dantteri #sewis #lo tag #little fics #niamh.asks

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shaythey · 4 months

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saw this print on pinterest and immediately came down with Constellation Tux Hermann Brainrot

#theyre at one of those fancy fundraiser galas #all the best fics have those scenes lol #newton geiszler #hermann gottlieb #newmann #newt x hermann #pacific rim #pacrim #pacrim fanart #charlie day #burn gorman #newt geiszler #my art

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sigskk · 1 month

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sooo i started thinking about pacific rim again

[ID: A traditional drawing of Sigma from Bungo Stray Dogs on lined paper, wearing a drivesuit from Pacific Rim. The drivesuit resembles a mecha-style suit of armor. His full body is shown, standing and leaning more onto his right leg. His right arm is awkwardly sitting near his waist, and his left hand is brushing his bangs from his face. The plates of armor are white, whereas the suit underneath is black. He's looking off to the right with a neutral expression. End ID.]

#late night sig doodles #lord my body has been against me these past few days. i started writing a pacrim!au fic for another (nonexistent) fandom #bc i couldn't take my evening nap. 😞#anyways this is sigma he's not a ranger he's just a PPDC officer. like LOCCENT mission control yk.#he knows how to pilot a v-50 jumphawk but he's never actually been deployed. he just can.#idk. maybe not an officer but if he had to fill that role he probably cld. but i do think he would be in mission control #OMG PACRIM SIGSKK #DRIFT PARTNERS DAZAI CHUUYA MISSION CONTROL SIGMA SO REAL AND TRUE #i'm so normal. please someone talk to me about pacrim!bsd #[ my art ]#sigma #sigma bsd #bsd sigma #sigma fanart #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs fanart #bsd fanart #sigma bungo stray dogs #pacific rim #pacific rim au #pacrim au #pacrim bsd #please please please be a tag

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wangxianficrecs · 5 months

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Polyphony by xxdz

Polyphony

by xxdz

T, 2k, Wangxian

Summary: He stares at HuaiSang, incredulous “If Second Jade wanted to drift with me, he would have done it when I asked him five years ago.” “People change, Wei Ying.” Lan fucking WangJi’s voice sounds from behind him. Pacific Rim AU. Kay's comments: Loved this Pacific Rim AU! In which Jiang Cheng is no longer allowed to pilot a Jaeger and so, Wei Ying has to look for a new partner. Enter: Lan Zhan, who he knows he's drift-compatible with, but who didn't want to drift with him the last time they had seen each other. Very cute and I like the glimpses into Wangxian's past. Excerpt: From the front of the room, Marshal Nie looks ready to skewer him alive, so Wei Ying plasters on his best smile and turns around instead of bolting right the fuck out of there. “Lan Zhan!” He notes that the other somehow learned to emote even less with his face since they last met two years ago. “It’s been a while!” “Indeed.” Lan Zhan says, bows slightly to him like he did back then, and walks away as if he didn't just use five words to leave Wei Ying with enough shit to process for a year. “You better put together another fucking list.” He hisses to HuaiSang before grabbing a bo staff.

pov wei wuxian, modern setting, modern no powers, pacific rim fusion, jaeger pilots, drift compatibility, developing relationship, getting together, love confessions, fluff

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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lu-sn · 1 year

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Pete watches on in amusement as Macau totally fails to shimmy himself into the skintight layer of his pilot suit.

“Hey, it’s because I’m swole now, okay, I lift,” Macau says petulantly as he finally manages to roll the suit past his hips.

Pete finishes zipping up his own suit. “Mhmm.”

“This is a super old suit,” Macau complains, “they took my new suit for repairs, and let’s be honest, I was basically a stick back then–”

“Until you became hot,” Pete says, having heard this spiel only about twenty times before. He moves to help Macau squeeze his arms through the suit.

“Until I became hot!” Macau grins at Pete. “See, you get it. Hey, I bet my biceps look real good in this–”

“The kaiju will definitely be blown away by your biceps.”

“They sure fucking will.” Macau looks inordinately pleased with himself. “The final, secret weapon that will save humanity.”

Pete rolls his eyes. “Okay,” he says, “hold your breath – good,” as he yanks Macau’s zipper all the way up. He pats Macau on the back. “Let’s go.”

–

Once they’ve made their way to the jaeger cockpit, the technicians start encasing Pete and Macau in their protective armor, along with all of the hook-ups that give them control over the various limbs and weapon attachments on the jaeger.

“Helmets,” one technician says, and Pete swiftly pulls on his head sock, making sure his bangs are securely tucked under the cloth before slipping on his helmet as well. He hears the familiar hiss of the hydraulics as the technician locks in a large attachment to the back of his helmet – the critical cabling that enables the pilots’ neural link.

“Step back,” the technician says, and Pete does. The exoskeleton clicks into place around him. “Preparations complete.”

“Testing comms,” a voice says, directly into Pete’s ear.

“Menace-L, copy,” Pete responds.

“Menace-R, copy,” Macau follows. “‘Sup, Hia.”

“Brat,” Vegas says placidly. “Operations confirmed that the kaiju is a Cat-3, and it’s headed for the Philippines. You’ll be in-flight for a little over 2 hours before the drop.”

“Yeah, right,” Macau mutters.

Pete snorts. After that one time they were stuck waiting to drop for over 12 hours, Pete doesn’t blame him for his skepticism.

“Tell yourself 4 hours, and then maybe you won’t be so cranky when the estimate isn’t spot on.” Vegas says. “The shelf on that side of the island falls off pretty quickly. Luckily, we don’t think you’ll have to wait until the kaiju makes it to the shallows. He doesn’t look like a swimmer.”

“A runner?” Macau says, a hint of glee in his tone.

“Yep. Four-legged. You should be able to fight him along the sea bed.”

“Phi,” Macau says. “Phi. Can we wrestle him, please–”

“Absolutely not,” Vegas starts.

“Sure,” Pete says.

Macau whoops. “Fuck yeah! Underwater wrestling, baby, let’s fucking go–”

Vegas sighs. “If HQ asks for Menace’s damages bill again, I’ll make sure you’re the one taking that call. You can be the one to explain exactly how critical it is to account for underwater wrestling in the budget–”

“We’ve, like, improved,” Macau says. “We’re good at it now. Tell you what – I’ll make you a bet. External damage only. No dents in the framework this time.”

“Deal,” Vegas says immediately.

“Here we go again,” Pete says under his breath.

“We’re ready for the neural link, sir,” another voice interrupts. “Are we cleared?”

“One moment,” Vegas says. “Yes, you’re cleared.”

“Neural link for Apocalyptic Menace going live in sixty,” the voice says.

“Copy.”

Pete exhales, leans back into the exoskeleton. The jolt of the neural link is always nauseating, but thankfully it’s short-lived. Pete is very used to it, though. And the drift itself is wonderful.

He hears a faint click, and an indicator pops up on his helmet’s interface that he’s been switched over to a private line.

There is a long silence.

“Wish I could come with you,” Vegas says quietly.

Pete smiles, fond. “You’ll just have to wish harder for a Cat-4. For next time.”

Vegas’s injury means that he’s not allowed to be on a standard pilot rotation, not like the rest of them. But he’s so damn good that HQ can’t bring themselves to bench him, either. So he gets sent out with Pete on the really tough drops, the category 4 and 5 kaijus, and Macau subs in on all the rest.

They’re lucky that all three of them are drift compatible with each other. Otherwise, HQ would force Vegas into the cockpit far more frequently. And then Vegas would re-injure himself, probably, and Pete would have to go kill someone over it.

“Next time,” Vegas says. Then, firm, “You’ll come back.”

“I always do,” Pete says, voice soft.

Vegas hums. “And bring my idiot brother back intact, please. Keep the wrestling to a minimum.”

“Can’t believe you’d throw a bet like that,” Pete says, amused.

Vegas scoffs. “It’s a win-win for me. Less repairs, and HQ doesn’t come for my head... or, Macau does laundry for a month.”

Pete shudders. “Maybe not laundry this time? He’s not very, um. Good at it.”

“How else is he going to learn, Pete,” Vegas says pleasantly, “if we don’t give him the opportunity to improve himself.”

“Uh-huh. And it’s a total coincidence that you hate laundry.”

“Like I said,” Vegas says, “win-win. Oh, wait. Macau is speaking.” And Pete hears another click.

“Phi,” Macau says, very seriously.

“Nong.”

“Friendly reminder,” Macau says, “to not think about Hia.”

Pete laughs.

“No thoughts!” Macau screeches. “None! Not a single one, or I swear to god, I’ll break the neural link and jump into the ocean.”

“That was one time,” Pete says. Plus, it wasn’t like it had been Pete’s fault. Vegas shouldn’t have given him horny thoughts from 2000 kilometers away.

“Once,” Macau says, “was plenty.”

“Link in three,” the technician’s voice counts down, “two, one–”

And as the neural link kicks in, Pete’s vision whites out, and the pain is sharp and bright right behind his eyes – until, suddenly, it settles.

Hey, bro, he hears. Ready to rumble?

Pete grins. Macau’s emotions are infectious, all excitement and anticipation and dogged determination. And in the far corner of his mind, a tiny hint of nervousness.

It’s good for Macau to have that. Keeps him from being reckless.

Let’s do this, Pete thinks. And then, just for a brief moment, he pulls up a memory from this morning – Vegas standing in the bathroom doorway while brushing his teeth, shirtless, ratty sweatpants riding low on his hips–

Oh my fucking god. Why would you do this to me. Why would you make me suffer like this.

Pete laughs, harder this time.

“Drift is stable,” the technician says. “Cleared for lift-off.”

“Copy,” Vegas says. There’s some murmuring from his end of the line. “Operations says you’re good to go. Good luck. Remember to cut down on the snarking this time. Maybe it’ll improve your kill time average.”

“Maybe I’ll stop snarking,” Macau says pointedly, “once Phi is done inflicting mind crimes on me–”

Describe to me, Pete thinks, in great detail, exactly how you picture this wrestling going. Just so we’re on the same page.

The distraction works. Pete feels a huge wave of glee hit him. Phi. I have so many ideas.

–

(thank you to @suzteel and @kissporsche for all of the ideas ❤️ and especially to suz for saying that every combination of mvp would be drift-compatible, because i swear i wasn't going to write anything until she baited me with that)

#fucking pacific rim AUs. they always get me in the end #hope yall enjoy this 😂#i am not turning this into a fic i've learned my lesson with AUs nope not doing it #but maybe i'll get the urge to write a few more scenes like this. we'll see. suz and boots gave me too many ideas. very rude of them #kinnporsche #vegaspete #mvp #pete saengtham #macau theerapanyakul #vegas theerapanyakul #mine: ficlet #pacific rim au

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greenerteacups · 16 days

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hi GT!

Lionheart had me the moment you kicked it off with “it’s a nice day to start again.” Might i ask why you chose that particular line?

And, if you havent already answered to this emoji:

❄️

P.s: you have my eternal gratitude for creating the most brilliant piece of writing i’ll ever read. I shout about it from the rooftops, share it on my socials, requested my spouse to read it so we may discuss it together (in lieu of a present for my 30th birthday), et cetera.

I see from your URL you are a fellow lad of taste.

There's a couple things going on in the epigraph for Book 1. On one level, it's a lyric from the first muggle song I picture Draco listening to on his walkman at the end of the book, so there's a cute full-circle thing there. The second layer is the theme of change and redemption, which, in Lionheart, doesn't so much come from major moments or self-sacrifice, but from the slow, grueling, everyday work of living, and living better. It's a nice day to start again because every day is. You always have the opportunity to start making better choices, no matter what lies behind you. That's the thesis of any Draco redemption arc, right? You have to imagine that he could have chosen to be better.

And then thirdly, there's the audacity of doing a full Hogwarts canon rewrite, a good 30 years after the original books came out, millions upon millions of words of fanfic later, and basically asking everyone to read the same story they did the first time around, only different. So it's a kind of winking entreaty. It's saying to readers, many of whom are understandably wary of doing it over, zeroing out the characters to starting positions, and starting from the beginning with 11-year-olds all over again. It's going: "hey. That was fun, right? Why not do it again?"

#thank you so much for the compliment -- honestly it's terribly kind #i hope your spouse likes it. for their own sake also because by god that is so much assigned reading #you're iconic for that tbh. all birthdays should come with a syllabus #oh! and ❄️ ⇢ what’s your dream theme/plot for a fic #and who would write it best?#tbh i've wanted someone to write a really good pacific rim AU for years and years #and it has always fallen juuuuust low enough on my writing pile for me to never get around to it #like it's always the thing i want to write 3rd most and i only let myself have 2 projects at a time #not sure who would write that best - I think anyone who loves and Gets the movies #the premise of which is 'what if you and your soulmate could pilot a 50-foot mech by having mindsex so good it killed godzilla?'#and if you don't want to stand up and cheer just thinking about that i don't know what to tell you. perhaps you have never seen a movie #also like it's about love and trust and trauma and healing. AND killing really giant monsters #and it takes itself JUST seriously enough to nail all of that without getting mopey or goofy #movie of all time. someday i will kiss guillermo del toro on the lips #in my (delusional) world his oscar win was actually a belated award for pacific rim.

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