#i know i am obsessed with newt and hermann but I do wish there was also more mako and raleigh fan stuff out there

[canonfanon]

Rewatching Pacific Rim right now, and there's this tiny moment between Mako and Raleigh that I really love

Toward the beginning of the movie, before any of the main action, Mako is showing Raleigh around the shatterdome, introducing him to the newly-renovated Gipsy Danger

Directly after this, Mako shows Raleigh to his quarters and the two of them have this conversation:

They talk a little more, Mako reveals her amazing simulator score, but also confirms that she is not one of the pilot candidates. They then discuss Raleigh's abilities. He asks Mako for her opinion - she thinks he is skilled but too unpredictable and reckless. She ends with this:

Raleigh thanks Mako for her honestly and says she may be right. Then goes on to say this:

And the tiny detail in this scene that drives me crazy is right here

He says when. Not if, when. Mako has just explicitly confirmed that Marshal Pentecost is not considering her for Jaeger pilot. It has already been established at this point that there are only 4 Jaegers left anyway, and that the program is nearing its end, one way or another. In all likelihood, they have very little time left until the end of the whole damn world. Hell, Mako herself just criticized Raleigh, and he could very well wish to get back at her for that, were he a different person. AND YET, despite all of that, he says when. Raleigh has faith in Mako from the very, very beginning, before they even drift together, before he even sees her fight.

And that drives me crazy! I love their relationship so much

[hermannsthumb]

first frost and cosy night in? :3

30. First Frost + 33. Cozy Night In

from autumn fic prompts here

here’s a quick lil penpal era fic before class!

--------------------

Newt’s used to hard winters at this point, and winters that come early, and winters that send him searching desperately for the most high-grade space heater available on the market (his heating is always busted, always), but he thinks the universe is feeling a certain kind of sadistic today, because the instant he steps out onto the tiny patch of grass that’s technically his front lawn, it’s to feel a loud crunch. Not the charming crunch of dead leaves either, which is what’s to be expected for pleasant autumn’s been; it’s the unmistakable crunch of frost. Early frost. The first frost. Newt looks down at his docs with a sigh. “Not fair,” he groans. He lifts one up, then back down on the white-tinged grass. Crunch. 

The wind is on the uncomfortable side of chilly, too, more than Newt’s trusty sweatshirt is willing to endure, and he shivers as a gust of it kicks up a pile of leaves and sends them tumbling past him. It’s the kind of wind he associates with the cold, dark days of late November—way too premature for October. He’s so not looking forward to walking the whole twenty minutes to campus in this. He’ll need a scarf, at the very least. And maybe a stop for coffee. Definitely a stop for coffee.

He shoots off a quick email to his class as—scarf his uncle knitted him wrapped freshly around his neck—he makes a jog for the nearest Dunkin: Running late! Feel free to use time to discuss questions about the midterm w/ each other, will answer when I get there -Dr. G. Then he picks them up a dozen donuts to make up for it, too, because he’s just that a great of a professor.

The donuts are a hit, and the resulting combination group sugar rush and sentiments of good will makes for one of their most spirited class discussions of the semester. Newt fields questions left and right, develops a cramp in his hand from needing to scrawl so fast across the whiteboard, and dishes out no less than twenty total points of extra credit. He gets so into it, in fact, he forgets about how much he’s dreading to walk the twenty minutes back home in the cold, cold wind. Almost, anyway. He lets class drag on just a little over the ending time, and is relieved when a handful of students stay behind to ask just a few more questions about midterm submission guidelines. He lets that drag on, too, and it’s not until the eleven AM environmental science class that uses the room after him begin peeping their heads around the doorframe and clearing their throats that he’s forced out.

Out into the cold.

He goes straight for his living room couch after a brisk walk back to his place, diving beneath his pile of throw blankets and pillows and cranking the little knob on his space heater up to ten. It’s really not that cold compared to what’s to come in January, but it’s still too fucking early for it, damn it. Unseasonable! Newt deserves to enjoy a little mild autumn weather before the winter.

“It’s just unseasonable,” he gripes to his cat, who’s curled itself up lazily in front of the space heater in a blink of an eye. It doesn’t even look at Newt. It’s not fair, really, that it got to stay home all day and Newt didn’t. Or that it’s soaking up all the heat before any of it can reach Newt. “You don’t know how good you’ve got it,” he tells it. 

His phone buzzes.

His spirits do an immediate one-eighty: it’s an email from Hermann. Suddenly, staying in for the rest of the evening doesn’t seem so bad. Desirable, even.

So (Newt rushes to grab his laptop) he has a little bit of a crush on his mysterious penpal. So (he quickly lights a few candles he has spread out across the living room) maybe it’s actually more like he’s a little bit in love with his mysterious penpal So (he dims the lights) emails from Hermann are the highlight of his day. Or (he fixes himself a little mug of tea) maybe more like year. It’s normal. It’s normal to have friends, and crushes, and penpals, and penpals who are your only friend and maybe also your crush. It’s all totally normal!

He explains all this to his cat, who is very uninterested, but who hops up onto Newt’s legs the instant Newt curls back underneath his throw blanket, which Newt takes as a sign of affection if nothing else. He holds his breath as he opens Hermann’s email, ignoring the stupid butterflies in his stomach. It’s normal.

Dear Newton-

I apologize for my rather belated, and rather short, response; Father has me working day and night on updating the coding for our newest jaegers, and this is the first moment I’ve managed to steal for myself in well over a week. I appreciate your design inputs, though I must--once again--remind you that built-in Bluetooth speakers are impractical, useless, and unnecessarily costly, and that between us two, only one of us has pioneered the jaeger tech field. In more personal matters...

Newt pets his cat as he reads on, a little smile blooming over his face. Hermann bought a sweater; Hermann switched tea brands out of rationing necessity, and found he likes the new one better; Hermann’s article was accepted into the next edition of a Jaeger Science journal he's obsessed with, and he wants Newt to glance over it one last time for any final edits. (That’s attached to the email, as is a very poorly-lit and very blurry mirror selfie of Hermann looking grumpy in his new sweater. Adorable.)

As always, Newton, I appreciate your correspondence.

Sincerely, Dr. Hermann Gottlieb.

It’s how he always finishes. It’s also kind of adorable, to be honest--three years of writing to each other, and he still signs off like they’re total strangers, and like they don’t send each other birthday cards and Hanukkah presents every damn year. “Adorable,” Newt says, and shakes his head. He scratches his cat behind the ears, and it purrs happily.

Hermann (he writes back)-

I notice you didn’t say anything about the totally cool and totally practical laser-beam eyes idea I had too. Does that mean you’re using it? Don’t forget to credit me.

I’m sorry you’re overworked. I don’t think I know anyone who needs a break or a little bit of fun more than you. I wish I could...

What Newt wishes is that Hermann was relaxing here with him: he wishes Hermann was curled up under his throw blanket, with Newt’s cat purring on both of them, and Hermann’s arm around Newt, and that he had a mug of tea, too, and Newt could read over his article out loud while they huddled over his laptop, and Hermann would be so impressed with how smart his edits were that he’d say something like well done, Newton! and then he’d... Well. Newt backspaces over the paragraph. Too much.

I wish I could help, he says. Lame, but whatever.

He writes (about the cold, about his classes, about the kaiju sample he’s finally managed to get the funding to afford) until the sun sets outside his window, and one of his candles finally burns down to the wick and flares out with a sputter of smoke. Newt’s cat begins to knead at his chest in the way that means I’m hungry, feed me dinner. “Alright, alright,” Newt tells it, because he’s feeling pretty hungry himself. He glances over the email one last time to make sure he doesn't sound pathetically lovesick before signing off with a -Newt and sending it.

He feeds his cat and fixes himself a little bowl of soup to eat on the couch. It’s turned into a pretty nice night, actually. Cozy. Comfortable. He can’t stop smiling. Maybe he’s a little bit in love with Hermann, so sue him.