#PACRIM au

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

More Mech Au-Au!

Swindle-orientated chapter, with sprinkles of TexAid.

Swindle smiled at everyone.

He smiled at those he was happy with, he smiled at those who had pissed him off, he smiled at those he was making deals with, the list was endless.

The only time he didn’t smile was when he was on his own. The door would click closed behind him, the lock automatically engaging, and the facade would slide from his face.

This all had to be worth it. It had to. He’d risked so much already, he was gambling at stakes he couldn’t pay. Failure would mean death, death for all five of them, and as such, failure was unacceptable.

He’d promised Onslaught.

Vortex was a source of pride for him - a prototype mech who had survived against all odds, plumping up his resume handsomely. The only surviving AI from that round and the round that came after - against all odds, Vortex had persisted. He hadn’t self destructed like his own cohort had, he hadn’t lost his sense of reality, he didn’t completely lose himself. He remained exactly who he was, for better or for worse. The discussions of destroying him once he’d begun to show his more aggressive tendencies were terrifying, sending Swindle scrambling for ways to extract Vortex from the mech. They didn’t get this far just to be treated like they were disposable. Had they forgotten that they were real people they’d trapped within the metal? What did it matter that they were slated to die anyway? That didn’t mean they could just be destroyed when they became inconvenient, there was supposed to be a due process. They were owed that much.

Swindle hung up his hat and ran his hand through his hair. Fuck. They’d gotten so lucky with that boy – Felix, right? That was his name, and Swindle has a vague recollection of his name meaning luck. Good for them that he lived up to it – they were lucky that he was persistent and determined, lucky that Vortex seemed to like him. His teammate liked to play with his food, and it seemed he was settling in to give First Aid a good long chew. Which was good! It meant Vortex was unknowingly buying himself some more time whilst he looked for ways to extract him and put him in something else. Anything else would do at this point - shit, he could be his toaster and burn his toast for eternity. At least he’d still be alive and he wouldn’t be left alone again.

Shit. How depressing. How did this become their only option?

Swindle kicked off his shoes, neatly placing them away onto the rack, and shrugged off his jacket

“I want to make them burn in hell.”

He’d done it because he had to. He took no pleasure in what happened to his team after he gave the wrong people the right intel - but it was this, or they’d all be dead. Like, dead-in-the-ground-dead. Skullfucked by maggots dead. Not on ice, not in giant suits of armour with guns and swords bigger than buildings, dead. Dead and forgotten, and it would be all five of them. Nobody alive to fight in their corner, nobody to keep them as safe as they could, nobody to do what needed to be done.

The screams didn’t haunt him like they used to. While they were still alive, skulking around the research centre with tags and monitors and cables and cameras on them at all times, people did terrible things to them. Trepan was the most frightening. He was enraptured with the idea of creating super soldiers. That’s what they’d tried at first - they’d needed warm, fresh, and living bodies - and who would notice if a mercenary group went missing? Everyone would just assume that they had died, and that would be that. They wouldn’t even look for their corpses.

Vortex had been the most difficult one for them to deal with. He was rude, unruly, and dished back what he was given. At one point they’d had to strap him down Hannibal style just to give him his injections - after they’d removed his prosthetic arm when he’d slashed through the restraints and three researchers with the hidden blade, he’d taken to biting down hard enough to rip chunks of flesh from the researchers instead. Vortex would laugh through the blood that dripped down his chin, but he’d always ended up screaming.

Brawl was freakishly quiet. He would press his palms to his temples, his eyes dull and face gaunt. Swindle would never admit how it made his insides churn, how guilt had ravaged him into sleepless nights. They all screamed, they all cried through the agony of it, but it was the worst when they were quiet. His team wasn’t meant to be quiet. They were always doing something, saying something. Vortex was always pissing off Blast Off, winding him up like a younger sibling did to an older one. Brawl was always playing music far too loud in his headphones. Onslaught was much quieter, but he was his own kind of orchestra of sound. A gun being cleaned, turning pages, the squeak of leather.

They weren’t in the research facility. They were shadows of themselves.

Onslaught had always given Swindle his looks though. No blame. No fault given. Thankful. They’d made a promise, after all. They’d agreed that this was what they would do, how it would happen. Anything that gave them longer to figure out what the fuck they were going to do.

The experiments were a failure. All it gave them were broken men. But that only gave them perfectly usable test subjects for something else, for another failing project.

Trepan had asked Swindle personally who he would volunteer as their first test subject. Who did he think had the best chance of success? Who did he think would make the best immortal warrior?

The cockroach, he’d replied. Vortex was fucking impossible to kill. He’d seen him getting himself blown up multiple times. He’d had to pay to fix his face, he’d had to pay to fix his spine, he’d had to pay for that damn prosthetic and every single hospital stay to stitch him back together. And not once had the man been touched by death. If a nuclear bomb were to fall on them, he was convinced Vortex would emerge unscathed and demanding a cigarette.

He was also extremely resistant to control. He despised being told what to do. Onslaught was an exception because he had actually made an effort to build a rapport with him, it was a relationship built on mutual respect and understanding. And Trepan? Every single scientist in this building? Vortex would rend them to dust and ash if they even entertained the thought of controlling him.

It was a hopeful moment, a glimpse into an optimistic future. Vortex would lose his humanity, but they would all regain their freedom.

But good things didn’t favour terrible men.

Fuck, he wanted a cigarette.

The photoshoot with Blurr was overrunning. It was already eleven o’clock at night - they’d been at this since 10 in the morning, working hard to get their perfect shots. The photogenic mechanics (paid actors). The intelligent engineers (more paid actors). The trustworthy medics (yet more paid actors). Their only non-actor was Blurr, but even then he was just their show dog. He wasn’t actually a pilot, not in the traditional sense. He wasn’t deployed, he was paraded.

Blurr would want to talk after, to natter away about something or other, to get a drink together and maybe a bite to eat, but Swindle just wanted to go to bed. He was tired. Exhausted. Going into his teammates lockers to grab a photograph had just dug up old memories from where he’d buried them, and he’d woken up with Vortex’s screams in his native tongue ringing in his ears, unable to get back to sleep. He could still hear it between the sounds of the camera shutter.

First Aid seemed to be a nice enough kid. He got on well with others, he did his job without complaint, and he was efficient. He didn’t dally around when he was to clamber into Vortex, he was quick and to the point - and, Swindle noticed with growing curiosity, he studiously avoided touching his controls.

If only the pilots were smart enough to pick up on that. Shame, really. It was starting to get real expensive to keep this quiet.

So it was with quiet horror that he watched as First Aid was trapped within the cockpit, the medic accompanying him collapsing to the floor as blood spurted up the glass from where his leg used to be.

He found himself hissing through his teeth. Don’t do anything stupid, Tex!

When First Aid stumbled out looking like his first pilot he’d ever had did, Swindle felt a grim mood take over him. How hard was it to fucking behave? To not do something so unbelievably stupid? To not get himself killed? Apparently it was too much for Vortex to fucking control himself.

But First Aid had been okay. The next day he was as chipper and chirpy as ever with full recollection of the previous day. He’d thought it was funny.

And that’s when Swindle knew that the boy was their chance. If he could survive Vortex, if Vortex was allowing him to live, then they had to seize the opportunity they could.

Nobody listened. Nobody fucking listened. They were repatriating children in biohazard bags, not even a hand left intact for their loved ones to hold as they said goodbye, and they weren’t listening to him.

They needed Felix Anwyl in that mech. Now. He was sick of watching lambs being offered up for sacrifice. Vortex was a malicious bastard but even he would get bored of it all eventually - and from where Swindle was standing, he saw a much better chance of getting their brothers online if Vortex settled down and stopped acting like he was possessed by the devil.

Seeing Felix sprinting towards Vortex in a pilots suit that didn’t fit him, Swindle discretely cleared the way. He distracted the officers with him, had them avert their eyes for a second to let him pass. He redirected people, he gave distractions, he delayed who he could to buy First Aid much needed time to get to the mech before that cadet took a single step inside. Vortex would kill them for the intrusion, he’d explicitly had enough of it and was demanding what was his. His words in the morning memos were enough.

Swindle was out of options. He needed to get First Aid into that mech before they stamped the paperwork to render the supposed AI obsolete and for the scrap heap.

He didn’t have a toaster ready for him yet.

Prowl had looked thunderous on the catwalk. So had Pharma. He had to fight to keep his grin at bay - he had to press his hand to his lips to hide it when Vortex began yelling ‘mine’ through the walkie talkie.

Oh, he really liked this one.

Pharma had kicked up the biggest fuss. He didn’t want to lose his precious medic.

Swindle checked his file. First Aid hadn’t been on any major medical assignments since the previous year, and there was no record of why. No particular displeasures, no signs of any faults or major errors, any need to retrain, or competencies lapsing and requiring reassessment. Pharma had just decided to force First Aid away from his job in some bizarre, inexplicable act.

He’d grabbed him by the collar and hissed into his ear that the blood was on his hands. That if he wanted to keep First Aid, then he could be the one to clear the mech out, that he would be the one to write to the families and explain what had happened.

Pharma had opened his mouth and begun to say something about a punishment, but Swindle placed his finger to his lips and shook his head.

“It’s not on his record.” He reminded him, tapping the file. “Do you want to incriminate yourself? Right here?”

And so he’d received the stamp of approval that evening. The ink was still wet as he shook Pharmas hand, the man holding his too tightly.

First Aid seemed to like Vortex too.

Pilots didn’t usually go and hang out with their mechs. They liked to be near them – apparently there was something about the connection that had them bond in such a way that they liked to be close to them, that they’d feel drawn towards them, but First Aid’s seemed to be almost excessive. At every free opportunity, he was there. If you couldn’t find him, the advice was to check Vortex – he’d probably be in the cockpit reading a book or listening to music, or he’d be elbow deep cleaning out the joints from the gunk the clean up crew didn’t manage to get. If it was a meal time and he wasn’t in his room or in the cafeteria, he was with Vortex.

His secondary role on base was still, technically, a medic – but Pharma had made it clear that he wasn’t welcome back in the medical bay. He’d made his bed, so to speak – if he wanted to be a pilot, then he’d be one, but it was at the sacrifice of his oath to medicine, so he wasn’t allowed to perform it. He was left to spin his wheels, to attend training sessions when they could run them for him (it was an open secret that he wasn’t a pilot, but a secret it was) and scratch his arse until the alarm went off and he was marked for deployment.

Swindle didn’t know that Pharma could hold such a grudge. He’d made a mental note to never piss him off.

A few times, when Swindle couldn’t sleep and was on a walk, he’d seen First Aid slipping into Vortex. He’d raised his brows at that.

Swindle didn’t know how Vortex hadn’t squished him yet.

Vortex fell back into the Shatterdome, rain thundering down on his armour sounding like the roar of a passing train. Sparks erupted from the gaping hole where his shoulder used to be, two of his back blades torn free and the remaining hanging on by rapidly breaking cables. The mech fell to its knees, catching itself on its remaining arm, its visor flashing a single message over and over.

OBJECTIVE ONE: PROTECT THE PILOT.

For the first time, Vortex had obeyed the objective embedded into each of their mechs. Protect the pilot. More than that, he’d brought him straight back to them.

Swindle watched him in quiet awe.

Wow. He really liked this one.

When the radio had cut out in a roar of static, Swindle had half expected Vortex to stay out on the front and continue his slaughter like he usually did when his pilot died, but instead he watched as the red dot that symbolised Vortex on the screen instead turned around and began sprinting back to the Shatterdome, ignoring all of the targets around him, ignoring when a quintesson got a good hit on him, barrelling past the other deployed mechs. Mission Control received multiple communications from the other pilots out in the field, confused calls from the crews of the helicopters monitoring from above - Vortex wasn’t responding. Vortex was moving entirely independently - his pilot was unresponsive and his life signal was so weak it could easily have been the electricity from the cables exposed to the elements being detected instead.

His walkie talkie crackled as Vortex looked directly at the large room Mission Control sat in overlooking the hangar. A voice he hadn’t heard in years ground out.

“He dies, everyone dies.”

Swindle swallowed hard, and nodded.

“Tex?” The voice was weak and unrecognisable. Swindle realised it must have been Felix. He was alive and conscious enough to speak - Swindle was already waving off people trying to get permission to do things, motioning for them to just get fucking on with it.

“Get that pilot out!” He hissed at them.

“It’s going to be okay.” Vortex promised. Swindle didn’t know his voice could get so soft.

“Stay put, Tex. Don’t move a muscle and unlock your emergency escape, the medics are here.” Swindle spoke into the walkie talkie. He received a few weird looks from those around him, but he ignored them. He’d field their curiosities later - for now, he had to focus on keeping Felix alive and figuring out how they were going to safely contain Vortex.

Fuck. He wished Onslaught had been activated. He’d know what to do. For a brief moment he wished their positions were reversed. He’d have handled all this shit so much better. Swindle would never tell him or ever admit it, but Onslaught was always the brains of the unit, he always had a plan. He’d probably have had all of them activated by now, brought the whole team back together again.

He chewed his bottom lip until it bled, the taste of copper stinging on his tongue.

The medic had to live. He had to. There was no protecting Vortex if he went on a murder spree - they could just about justify the pilots being pulverised inside of him, the difference between the cost to spec up and build and test a mech that was his equal vs the cost to train a new pilot was extraordinary. Vortex could, in theory, chew through a few hundred more pilots before they’d start to wonder if they should have just built a new mech. But to destroy a whole base?

Yeah. No. It would be significantly more difficult to justify it as a misidentified ‘protect the pilot’ protocol. Sure, he could argue that the base failed to save his pilot, but how would the mech know? Why did the mech identify the Shatterdome as a target? Clearly it was faulty, glitched, and needed to go.

Vortex was not one to be reasoned with. Swindle knew that all too well. There wasn’t going to be the opportunity to talk him down from his decision.

They succeeded, or they failed. That was it. One or the other. Felix survived, or everyone died.

God, he prayed that Felix was as much of a cockroach as Vortex was.

[hyalinemin]

[terracyte]

latest pacrim rewatch ate me upppp

[mcdadarts]

Here's Eddie and Steve from @corrodedbisexual's pacrim AU Love, Drift & Monsters (part of the @steddiebang Steddie Big Bang)

I had the most fun working on this. Expect more work for this AU.

[mispronouncing-michaelangelo]

yunmech jiang or whatever

[fauvester]

marshall vortex……..

[dickpuncherdraws]

“Ranger Nakayama,” says Marshal Piandao. “I’m glad to see you made it here in one piece. Welcome to Hong Kong.”

“Um, thank you, sir,” Zuko says. “It’s an honour to be here.”

Piandao’s eyes crinkle in what Zuko recognizes as a smile. “I’d like you to meet Ranger Aang Gyatso,” he says, and inclines his head in the direction of the man standing next to him. “Your co-pilot.”

—

With the Jaeger Program nearing the end of its life, the Pan Pacific Defense Corps brings in Zuko Nakayama, ex-Jaeger pilot, as a last-ditch effort. His role is simple: to act as co-pilot for the newly restored Avatar Fury, and hopefully bring an end to the Kaiju War, once and for all.

For day 1 of @zukkaweek 2023: Modern AU.

[vrieseasees]

One Piece Pacific Rim AU.... anyone?

looottsss of ideas below the cut...

Luffy - Completely disregarded his grandfather's wish for him to join the marines and flew right through jaeger academy like he was meant to punch kaiju. Has this ability to win most peoples hearts, which helps with the fact that plenty of pilots can drift well with him.

Zoro - Struggled for a while to match with a pilot and almost lost his chance to become a ranger when his projected partner dropped out suddenly. Zoro doesnt drift well with most pilots but despite this Luffy insta-clocked him as his true co-pilot when they met (and he was right and theyve been inseparable since).

Nami - the chief LOCCENT officer who oversees jaeger missions from the Shatterdome. One time, her troubled past came back to bite her but Luffy and Zoro helped her out of it. Shes been protective of them since and does everything in her power to ensure they get home safe.

Usopp - a jaeger tech weapons specialist who did his best doing jaeger engineer work for good ol' Merry as well. Always has ideas for improving the j-tech they use and implement. Incredibly grateful he can do his part, but nice and safe in the shatterdome.

Franky - came on board towards the end of Going Merry's life. He's the jaeger engineer responsible for the Thousand Sunny and does well with its upkeep and upgrades. (Allowing Usopp to focus on being a weapons specialist).

Chopper - doctor for their medical team as well as a kaiju science enthusiast and frequently visits the k-science lab when he's free. He has been working and researching kaiju biology and how humans, minks, and fishmen may benefit from the kaiju remains.

Brook - a retired jaeger pilot who went on to teach at the jaeger academy as a kwoon fightmaster. He's quite adept at playing ranger match-maker and was the one to ensure one of their best, Zoro, could match with someone. Has moved up in ranks since.

Jinbe - Hails from and is also a retired jaeger pilot from Fishman nation. He does a lot of work with fishmen-human relations, which has gotten a bit easier after a common enemy invaded their world. Due to all his leadership and his prominent role in the war on kaiju, he was promoted to marshal to lead their shatterdome.

Robin - a private investigator and information dealer of sorts who slipped into a consultant role for their shatterdome. She has many connections and is well versed in the kaiju black market world as well--which is how Chopper found her.

Sanji - the ranger who matched but dropped out last second on Zoro. He fled due to his biological family finding him and trying to bring him home. He went full-time as sous chef at the Baratie with his adoptive father Zeff. The Baratie is still a restaurant that goes out to sea, but has to dock more frequently since kaiju became a problem.

[fryingpan1234567]

putting the 141, who is already military, into sub-military aus is so special to me

Top Gun au so I can put them in planes. dope ass painted flight helmets with their callsigns across the back. Laswell and her wife own a bar that the boys like to frequent and cause trouble in. also an excuse to stick them on the California coast

Halo au because SPARTAN ARMOR?? alien warfare?? mostly the armor HELP I just wanna give Gaz a giant energy sword please

PacRim au to put them in giant robots. and so I can fuck w drift compatibility. bomber jackets with their names and jaeger insignias stitched on the sleeves and backs. bullying recruits who just wanna punch aliens. I know this one’s already been written (AMAZING fic do check it out) but still it’s everything

Avatar au because… what’s not to love? giant blue aliens with guns and pterodactyls and floating mountains?? yeah dude I am ALL in (I’m also kinda writing this if you wanna see sooo)

SCP au simply because that would be so fucking funny. “goddamn it people are going missing at IKEA again let’s fuckin move out I guess” “IF THAT FUCKING PEANUT BREACHES CONTAINMENT ONE MORE FUCKING TIME—“ “huh this house sure is weird I hope none of us get turned into code and lag out of existence” LIKE CAN YOU IMAGINE

Monsterverse because I think seeing Ghost’s reaction to Godzilla crawling out of a mountain and turning pink would just… cure me. Price has sympathy for the monsters but also just wants to protect all the humans in their path. Soap LOVES all of them (Mothra is his personal favorite) and punched a higher-up who suggested bombing a recently discovered nest one time. Gaz is mostly just in awe of them all, but they also give him anxiety because just one of them could flatten an entire house with one step. they be vibin

Jurassic World because my dinosaur fixation started when I was four and never went away. I’ll fight all of you. raptor trainer Ghost?? paleoveterinarian Soap who’s friends with all the dinos?? head of security Price and head park management Gaz?? please (I’m also writing this one)

like yes. they still do the military thing. but slightly to the left. I could do it all day

[yuwuta]

pacrim au yuuta: why let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband?

LOLLL yes exactly…. your boyfriend is of no consequence to yuuta. he became a pilot to save people, and he saved you—he and rika were the ones who pulled your body out the rubble and brought you back to life. you’re his little miracle, how could he leave your care up to anybody else? 😇

let me say tho that reader having a boyfriend who isn’t yuuta is intentional in the grand scheme of things—it’s supposed to be a point of conflict for yuuta being a pilot, not necessarily because of his romantic feelings. pilots are supposed to be the good people, the ones who sacrifice everything and risk their lives to save others, who are given the great responsibility of controlling expensive mega-robots because the average person can’t. they’re the heros, the good guys, the angels—they’re not supposed to lust after civilians, much less those who are already taken, but yuuta’s starting to wonder why he should follow what’s right when there’s something better in front of him

it’s not just yuuta that takes to you, though. rika has always been an usual mech—hushed whispers about how it’s haunted, how it was cruel of her family to build and name a mech after their deceased daughter and ask her crush to be its pilot—but she seems alive more than ever lately. inexplainable auto-pilot movements when you’re around, her core chamber lighting up and powering when you touch it, her hand moving to catch you when you trip near the edge of a lift on the hangar, despite no pilot being inside, sudden steam and crying pipes when you’re too close to your boyfriend and not yuuta. it makes the other pilots wonder—is yuuta possessive over you because of rika, or is rika seemingly possessive over you because of yuuta?

yuuta would never say it out loud, but part of him likes how helpless you are during your recovery. he wants you to get better, to feel better, of course, but the less innocent part of him likes that you need him; that you have a wide, doe-eyed admiration of him for being the brave pilot who saved your life. he likes spoon-feeding you while you’re too weak to do it yourself, likes you calling him to have him help you walk three feet to the bathroom, likes that you wait for him to have lunch and sit pretty watching him during his sparring training. he’s grown awful fond of having you wait on him, he wouldn’t mind if it took a little longer for you to get better. he knows that his job as a pilot is meant to be obsolete—that the goal is the rid the world of its dangerous, so make it a safe space so that humanity isn’t dependent on giant robots and pilots, so maybe having you here like this is the remedy to that. he’d do whatever it takes to rid the world of its monsters if it meant taking care of you for the rest of his life

[sigskk]

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.]

[bugborgs]

the tinted helmet glass helps hide the blushing

[fzjp]

First Meet

Rinsagi Pacific Rim Au

[bignostalgias]

I was already having a pretty normal one yesterday and @hijacksecrets fantastic art and concept and @grahminradarin’s comment on this post made me even normaler. Y’all are so smart

[absolutelybifurious]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz

thank youuuu!

i was gonna do the new thing i'm working on but i am still figuring out the beginning stages and couldn't decide on an actual tease that didn't give everything away so have this from the other thing i've been writing for, you know, ever

His body rams into Eddie, nearly knocks him back, before Buck gets his hands on Eddie’s hips to pull him closer. It knocks the hat off his head, onto the ground at their feet. Apparently, Buck’s gotten the steps down, but not the direction. And Eddie drops his head against Buck’s shoulder to muffle his laughter, and it’s a vibration, this churn that ignites Buck’s blood. “Eddie,” Buck whispers, laugh half-dead in his throat. “I-I think it’s too crowded in here.” “It’s fine, Buck,” Eddie says into his shirt, still working through his laughter. “You’re doing fine.” Buck keeps one hand on Eddie’s waist, then gets the other beneath his chin to tilt it up, catching his eyes. “I think we should go somewhere quieter so you can teach me, you know, properly.” Eddie’s eyes go dark, and his mouth opens, quivers with the start of something, but Buck slides his thumb over Eddie’s lower lip and eases closer, so his words slide right over Eddie’s tongue as he says, “Come with me.” “Okay,” Eddie says, sort of melting into the word, into Buck’s hand, and it takes every ounce of Buck’s willpower not to kiss him here. He doesn’t, though – he can’t risk that scandal, so he slips his grip to Eddie’s wrist and tugs him towards the exit. No one notices. Taylor’s wrapped around Lucy. Chimney and Maddie are in a corner by themselves, and no one notices Buck tug Eddie out of the bar and back into the elevator. Buck waits, winding himself around the thrum of Eddie’s racing pulse where Buck’s still got his hand around his wrist. It takes ages, years maybe, for the elevator doors to close.

listen i get i'm way too late to be doing this for tidbit tuesday so just treat this as a wednesday tag @coldbam @clytemnestraaa @tidesreach @inell @sunflower-eddiediaz and whoever else wants to

[basket-of-loquats]

Little doodle of tae for mine and @rainechiime ‘s pacrim au :]

[image description: a digital drawing of Kim Taehyung dressed in athletic wear holding a quarter staff. The background is aqua. End ID.]