#Crimson Typhoon Jaeger Pilot Drivesuit

[pacificrimrefs]

Crimson Typhoon Jaeger Pilot Drivesuit

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[eadrey-the-iptscray]

Last Days of War 2025 - Day 1

Author's Note: I might not be able to write every day but I'm going to try my hardest to complete some of the prompts. Shoutout to @lastdaysofwar for the idea!

Prompts: celebration, memorial, dog tags

Wordcount: 850

Main characters: Raleigh Becket, Yancy Becket's ghost, Mako Mori (implied Maleigh toward the end)

Hong Kong Shatterdome was still celebrating the success of Operation: Pitfall weeks later, but not everyone was enjoying the moment. Raleigh had excused himself from the festivities, choosing instead to sit with the memorial plaques that had been relocated there from all the decommissioned Shatterdomes. It felt wrong, somehow, to be celebrating when so many people had died.

He wasn't the only one with that sentiment. Some of the mourners at the moment included members of the Crimson Typhoon and Cherno Alpha strike crews, still in their uniforms. Sniffles filled the otherwise silent hall as everyone paid their respects to the fallen pilots.

Mako and Herc had been to the Hall of Heroes a few times. Raleigh had seen them on occasion, standing in silence with the memories of their fallen loved ones weighing heavily on their bodies and minds. Wreaths for Stacker Pentecost, Chuck Hansen, the Weis, and Kaidonovskys had been set up in the center of the room, and that's where most of the mourners had gathered.

Raleigh, however, was sitting in front of the Icebox's memorial plaque. And he wasn't alone. A ghostly figure in a white drivesuit was hovering in his peripheral vision, its presence so lifelike that Raleigh could've sworn it was actually Yancy looking down at him.

Raleigh didn't believe in ghosts, but he spoke to it, anyway.

"Hey, Yance."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice replied, Hey, kid.

Even after five years, Raleigh still missed Yancy so much it hurt. So what if he indulged in a conversation with his brother one last time?

"I've been thinking. My air supply ran out down there." He thought back to the burning sensation in his lungs as the sluggishness of his body as he tried to initiate Lady Danger's self-destruct protocols by hand. "I don't get how I made it out. Unless…"

But Yancy didn't answer.

Saying it out loud, Raleigh realized how ridiculous it sounded. No matter how real ghost drifting or this figure's presence felt, it wouldn't change the fact that ghosts weren't real. They sure as hell couldn't interfere with the lives of mortals.

Could they?

"Yancy, did you save me?"

Again, silence.

Raleigh sighed. "Well... thank you," he said. "For at least keeping me company. I still miss you."

Yeah? The ghostly voice had a sad smile in its tone.

"Every day." Raleigh's chest tightened as he held back a sob, and he rubbed a palm over it to sooth it. The chain of Yancy's dog tags moved underneath his fingers.

I know. You remember what the Marshal said, though, right?

Raleigh thought back to Pentecost's last words: You can always find me in the drift. Said to Mako in his final moments. They'd been tender words from a proud father to his grown daughter, but they rang true for every pilot who had ever lost someone. And maybe, Raleigh figured, he needed to hear that. To release the guilt of Yancy's death, once and for all.

Yep. I'm in your brain, remember?

Raleigh smirked. That's what Yancy had said to him before they'd deployed together that fateful day in February 2020. Memories of the Knifehead attack still hurt, and would probably always hurt. But they'd lost their sting over the years. His eyes, however, hadn't, and Raleigh rubbed the tears away with the sleeve of his sweater.

You don't have to carry me around, you know.

"What?"

My tags.

It had been a jaeger pilot tradition to trade dog tags before every drop. The idea was that you couldn't die if you were wearing someone else's tags. And the superstition worked... until it didn't.

"I can't give 'em back," Raleigh muttered. It was true. Yancy's body had never been recovered. As far as he knew, it was at the bottom of the ocean with Raleigh's dog tags.

Then quit wearing 'em.

Part of him didn't want to. Those dog tags were the last thing Yancy touched before—

Raleigh.

He feels a warm hand on his right shoulder; for a second, he expected to find his big brother in the flesh and standing over him. Instead, Mako peered down at him. Raleigh gripped her hand and returned her sad smile.

For nearly five years, Raleigh had carried the guilt over Yancy's death everywhere he went: from job site to job site, from Anchorage to Nome to Sheldon Point to Hong Kong. But with the breach destroyed and the kaiju gone for good, he could finally set that baggage down. Yancy's death hadn't been in vain. And for the first time since, Raleigh felt that weight lift from his shoulders.

He didn't realize he was crying until Mako wiped the tears away. She had crouched in front of him, and now she wrapped him in a tight hug. The ghost drift between them was still strong, and he knew she could sense his gratitude. But he would tell her anyway, after his eyes had dried and his mind was clear. For now, they sat in silence, embracing on the floor of the Hall of Heroes and sharing their grief.

[theinternetisaweboflies]

Pacific Rim Props Part 2

(Part 1)

(Part 3)

Crimson Typhoon Jaeger Pilot Drivesuit

Raleigh Becket Hero Welding Pack

Scavenger Meat Hamper Lot

Chau Thug Costume

Mako Mori's Corkboard

Mechanical Kaiju Skin Mite

[prop-store]

Crimson Typhoon Jaeger Pilot Drivesuit from our 2014 #PacifcRimAuction

[bubble-tea-bunny]

Breathe [Chuck Hansen x Reader]

Author’s Note: So like, does anyone else really like Pacific Rim?? It’s like my favorite movie ever. This is something I wrote a loooong time ago, and I might even share some of my other Pacific Rim fics too. I want to write for it again though. And, well, more fics in general, but I’m drowning in homework this quarter and I’m always too tired to write. I will try to soon! I have ideas, just... no energy. Fml. 

Word Count: 1,588

You feel as though you are being suffocated.

You stand behind Tendo, your arms crossed but foot tapping anxiously against the hard ground. It takes a lot within you to keep from bringing your hand to your mouth and nibbling at your fingernails. You don’t bother wondering whether or not your unease is noticeable. Max senses it without a problem, for he frequently nudges his nose against your leg before sitting next to you, not leaving your side. He’s still attached to his leash, which is held by Herc, who also has no issue seeing that you’re worried. He doesn’t need to watch Max to know, because he feels the same way.

Your heart beats painfully hard within your chest. The tension in the room is high and you are hurting. You hurt for Herc, who’s helpless and unable to pilot Striker with his son. You hurt for yourself because you are forced to watch the most important person in the world to you dive into the depths of hell, and you are forced to accept that he may never come back. You hurt for Chuck and the Marshal, who are miles away risking everything to keep the world safe and put an end to the true monsters under the bed once and for all.

What was the saying? “Kill one, save a thousand”? Your emotions clash and you repeatedly tell yourself that this will be worth it. Even if they don’t make it out alive, they’ll have saved so many people. They’d be heroes. And while you’d be so proud of the both of them for what they’d done, it would never completely heal the hole in your heart. The thought of them is never as good as the real deal.

You almost want to tune out Tendo as he communicates with the pilots of Gipsy and Striker. You almost want to leave the room, to retreat to your bunk and forget everything that’s happening. You just want one moment to pretend that the Breach doesn’t exist, that it never existed. Things could be so different. There would’ve been no K-Day, no PPDC, no Jaegers. Where would you be if none of this had happened? Being a Jaeger pilot took over your entire being so quickly it feels like you’d been doing it your entire life. You can’t quite remember what it was you wanted to do before the emergence of the Kaiju.

You feel a hand gently set itself atop your shoulder. It’s a warm comfort, and tears well up in the corners of your eyes. You trace the hand back to Herc, who watches you somberly, nodding and pursing his lips. He doesn’t say anything and you know it’s because if he does, tears may actually begin to fall. You understand. You take a deep breath and turn back to the screens in front of you. You can feel Max’s nose pushing against your leg.

They’re approaching the Breach now. Crimson Typhoon and Cherno Alpha are out of the game. Your small army of Jaegers has gotten even smaller. Gipsy Danger and Striker Eureka push on like they hadn’t just lost five pilots, five friends. The payload sitting on Striker’s back seems more important than ever with each step it takes.

And then you and Herc are pushed to the side, Newt grabbing the microphone and hurriedly explaining to the four pilots the instructions they must follow for the mission to be a true success. Pretending to be a Kaiju? This mission just got so much riskier than it already was. With four Jaegers still on board, it may have been a bit easier to accept and even execute. But Gipsy and Striker have their hands full with the two Kaiju mercilessly grabbing and biting at their armor, and doing so scarily easily.

You avert your eyes from the screens as you hear the struggle. You hear them, all four of them, shouting out various commands. Their minds are working on overdrive, possibly at the fastest rate they’ve ever been. They don’t have time to make mistakes. They can move fast, the Jaeger can move fast, but the Kaiju can move even faster. Their movements are streamlined in the water and everyone knows they have the upper hand in this circumstance. But your pilots hold out, and it is at this moment everyone sees the reasons why they became pilots. There has been no better time than now for their skills to be tested.

You hear Chuck’s voice over the intercom and your heart skips a beat. He’s yelling, and you can tell he’s frustrated, he’s stressed, and he’s afraid. He would never admit to any of those, most of all the last, but you know him. He’s never been soft or obvious with his emotions. He’s intimidating, and that was the way he wanted it to be. But growing close to him the way that you had meant learning the way he works deep down. There are those he would do anything for: you, his father, even Max. It was an unspoken promise to himself that for the three of you, he would fly to Pluto and back. He would face the biggest monsters for you because he’s Chuck and when it comes to those he cares about, he will do anything.

You’d practically sprinted down the large hallways of the Shatterdome to catch Chuck one last time. You saw Herc and Max when you turned the corner and Chuck was beginning to walk to the elevator. You yelled his name and he stopped, turning around and watching you make your way over. He had come to you in LOCCENT to say goodbye, but you had forgotten to tell him something at the time. You wordlessly left the room in a run, and Tendo made no move to stop you or ask for an explanation. He understood.

You stopped before Chuck, panting slightly. He watched you, and while he wore no smile, his eyes are gentle because he loves you so much. You, though so small, are his entire world. It’s something he’d never say out loud unless with you in his or your bunk, as a quiet murmur against your skin. You’d hum as you trace patterns on his chest, quietly telling him that he’s your entire world too. The room you’re in is your own universe and you’re content to stay where you are forever.

“Come back to me, okay?” you tell him. You look up at him, hope in your eyes. They shine, but Chuck can tell they are because of tears threatening to spill over. “Promise me.”

He gently sets a hand on your cheek, something he never previously dared to do with others watching. Though armored, it’s warm, and you relish it as best you can in these few moments. He nods once, his own eyes becoming glassy as he feels the tears gathering. “I will.” It’s barely a whisper. 


And then he’s in the elevator, the doors sliding shut. Chuck always keeps his promises.

Both Kaiju are dead now, and Gipsy’s grabbed the remnants of one to toss into the Breach. You watch the display of the Breach on the screen as the corpse floats down, down, down…

“The Breach is open.” Tendo moves toward the intercom fast as lightning in order to tell the four pilots this. Their time is limited and they have to act now.

By this time you’re biting at your fingernail, your other hand holding up your shaky arm. Your breaths are short as you watch the payload sink through the Breach. The countdown has commenced and the two Jaegers are taking their distance. In the last five seconds they anchor themselves down to the ocean floor.

The timer reaches zero. The display of the Breach turns red.

“It’s closed.” No one celebrates quite yet, not until they hear the pilots’ voices over the intercom to let everyone know that they’re fine, and they’re ready to be brought back to the Shatterdome, back to safety, to true safety, because the threat has been stifled at the source.

The cheers are deafening. You laugh at the realization of what just transpired. They did it. You hug Herc, you hug Max and kiss his nose, you hug Tendo and he spins you around. The clock is shut down and you can all rest. There is no more working against the clock and doing your best to sort out the problem before the next Kaiju emerge.

You’re running through the hallways again. You know where the pilots will be coming through and you’re determined to catch Chuck before he’s overwhelmed by everybody else.

Raleigh, Mako, the Marshal, and Chuck emerge from the elevator. This time when Chuck spots you, he meets you in the middle. His helmet clacks on the concrete as he drops it so he has both arms to engulf you in a hug. The other three pilots smile before continuing on their way, leaving the two of you to bask in each other’s presence. You hug Chuck tightly, cheek resting against his drivesuit. The tears spill for real this time. You don’t try to hide it. His arms around your waist only tighten as he pulls you flush against him as if to tell you ”I’m here. I’m alive.”

You feel him kiss your head and he mumbles into your hair “I promised I’d come back, didn’t I?”

He’d done it. He’d flown to Pluto and back.

You can finally breathe again.

[eadrey-the-iptscray]

Last Days of War - Day 12

This one is an Almost Everybody Lives AU because why not.

Prompts: cancelling the apocalypse, pride, humanity

Warnings: angst, scientific/medical/technological inaccuracies, reference to religion/divine intervention, canonical character death

Wordcount: 677

Main characters: Stacker Pentecost, Tendo Choi, and Yancy Becket; mentions of Chuck Hansen, Tamsin Sevier, Mako Mori, and Raleigh Becket

Very few survive the apocalypse. Senseless deaths are inevitable, and sacrifices must be made so the survivors have a chance. But this isn't one of those stories. This is a story of resilience against the odds.

Challenger Deep

Marshal Stacker Pentecost initiated the escape pod protocols for Chuck Hansen despite the latter's loud protests. Herc had lost enough; he couldn't lose his son, too. Once confident that Striker Eureka's escape pod was rocketing toward the surface, Stacker took a deep breath and reached for the detonator—

By some miracle, a 30-second countdown began. Stunned, Stacker remained in the rig. But something began tugging at him through the Drift. Or rather, someone.

Stacks. A flash of fire-red hair and pale skin accompanied the familiar voice. Quit dawdling. You're getting more time, like you wanted.

With a grateful look toward heaven, Stacker initiated the escape pod protocols for himself.

Hong Kong

The hospital staff glanced curiously at the beds in the intensive care ward. Five medical miracles had shown up at their doorstep that morning, brought there by fishermen who'd found the unconscious pilots in the harbor. The patients were so famous that they didn't need identification. And besides, their battle-scarred drivesuits told enough of the story. But what the staff didn't know—and, like the pilots of Cherno Alpha and Crimson Typhoon, would never know—was that something supernatural had happened in the harbor.

Later, of course, there would be theories. That Leatherback's assault had created an egress for the Kaidanovskys, for instance. But the whispers of divine intervention—of old gods, ancestors, mythical creatures, and even time travelers—passed among the hospital staff. By the time word reached the PPDC and the press, the Kaidanovskys and Weis had been venerated by all of humanity.

LOCCENT

The first thing Tendo did after confirming the Breach had collapsed was call his partner. International roaming fees be damned—he had to hear Yancy's voice.

"Hey, babe, what's up?"

Tendo closed his eyes and let those soothing words wash over him. It wouldn't be long until they could reunite. After nearly losing him to a kaiju five years ago, Tendo hated being apart from Yancy for any length of time. But soon, the distance would be a distant memory.

"You there?"

"Yeah," Tendo replied. "I've got good news."

"Oh?"

He heard Yancy ease himself onto the leather couch in their living room; it squeaked under his weight. "You're sitting down?"

"Yep."

"Awesome. The Breach is closed."

The line went silent. But after a tense few seconds, there came a quiet, "For real?"

Tendo nodded. "Your baby brother did it. Choppers are picking him and the rest of the pilots up now. Everyone made it out alive."

A small sniffle came from the other line. Tendo knew without a doubt that those were tears of pride for Raleigh. But there was undoubtedly joy and sorrow and relief and pain mixed in there, as well.

"Don't know when I can come home, but it should be soon." Tendo held back a sob of his own, but his shaking voice betrayed him anyway. "But it's over. It's finally over."

Hong Kong Shatterdome

Getting into a jaeger again had killed him. It was only a matter of time before Stacker's body began to shut down, the years' worth of physical trauma and mental strain finally catching up to him. But that didn't matter right now. Right now, Stacker was focused on embracing his daughter. Despite being all grown up, Mako still felt small in his arms. She was nowhere near like the child he'd found wandering the streets of Tokyo, of course. But as long as he had breath in his lungs, he would see her as his little girl.

The press tour after Operation: Pitfall was bittersweet. Many of the pilots sported debilitating injuries, and the former marshal had succumbed to his injuries before the first press conference. There were, of course, the insensitive journalists who ignored the tear-stained cheeks when asking questions. But the pilots on the panel remained professional, recounting their experiences as best they could. Although they hesitated to mention spiritually loaded words in their recollections, they nevertheless got the point across. What happened on January 12, 2025 was nothing short of a miracle.