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meximango · 2 months ago

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Day 19 - Taken - Tibby - G

Summary: Tibby leaves home.

Ngl I don’t remember the layout of the Ruby Sea and how she would’ve gotten to the big city organically lmaooo I was too tired to open the game and map it out myself.

I could’ve made this the continuation of the last one so easily, the word was like PERFECT, but alas! Too sleepy to think of how to do what I want to do with that.

So I made this instead. A chance to dip my toe into writing about Tibby! Idk if I'll write her again for the current event, but I'm glad I gave it a shot.

Tibby did not have to survive on the surface for long before she found an abundance of inspiration and resources.

Sui-no-Sato had been all she’d ever known. Her life there had been safe, simple, free of worry–and it was incredibly boring. She might not have ever mustered the impetus to leave, had the outsider not arrived.

When an adventurer passed through and shared stories of her travels and grand encounters with the townsfolk, Tibby had been enraptured. She was a very animated miqo’te (she’d never seen one before! A tail covered in fur instead of scales, and two fluffy ears atop her head instead of horns. Truly fascinating.) The adventurer also had a book full of complex equations and geometrical figures, which she used to bring forth elemental creatures to aid her in battle. The beautiful blazing Phoenix, a fearsome visage of Bahamut, the winds of Garuda, Titan’s hold over the earth, and Ifrit’s flames. Yet despite being able to summon such miniature simulacrums of terrifying primals, Tibby’s favorite was the simplest creature, the default carbuncle. So cute! That was the first spark that lit the fire in her soul that wished to leave and travel. She wanted to travel the world so she could see other cute creatures, until she found the one she liked best. Then, she would recreate it in mechanical form. (She’d made a few tiny robots while growing up, but they were simple, so they couldn't do much. Also, they were ugly. Bleh.)

She was too shy to talk to the adventurer one on one, but she did a lot of eavesdropping and watching her as she went about her time in the village. The outside world was full of danger, but adventuring sounded so exciting! Besides, she had a plan for getting around the danger. She’d just blow it up or hide behind the safety of other adventurers. If she could make it all the way to Ishgard, she could get an apprenticeship at Skysteel Manufactoryl to become a machinist, so she could get the big guns–literally. She felt completely prepared to leave her bubble under the sea and go to the surface world as soon as she gathered enough materials. It was a few months after the adventurer left that Tibby felt prepared enough to depart. Her backpack stuffed to the brim, she rented a striped ray to take her to the shores of Onokoro, and from there convinced a porter to take her directly to Kugane.

She helped at the city’s blacksmith for a while so she could learn more about crafting weapons. She was used to tinkering with whatever was laying around her home village, so she had the building and engineering side down, but she hadn’t been able to do much with it. She was going to need firepower if she was going to be an adventurer and stand a chance against enemies. Either that, or she’d need to learn how to build up her defenses. That was when she split tracks and started to apprentice at the armorer’s shop as well.

During her downtime, she kept up with her self-taught studies as well, which was easy enough. The amount of scrap to be found up here had her spoiled for choice! Her bosses didn’t need to know when she took bits and bobs here and there, especially the unwanted junk–treasures to her, just as the phrase went. If she also went around the other shops in town, especially the goldsmith, and did the same? Well, nobody ever caught her or cared enough to say anything, so she made a habit of it. If she had been caught, she would have simply explained she was just a poor soul trying to hone her craft! Surely that was a worthy pursuit entitling her to some free crafting components?

Once confident that she could craft defensive and offensive implements equally well, as well as the delicate work involving cogs, springs, and crystals, she sold a bunch of her creations to make enough gil to travel from Othard to Eorzea–specifically, to Ishgard. She was lucky the city let her in, as it apparently had been shut down to outsiders for ages during the Dragonsong War, but they were opening their gates more and more ever since a certain adventurer swept through (she knew there was more than one adventurer on the star, but the descriptions she heard certainly sounded familiar, so she was pretty sure she’d met some major celebrity level of adventurer. How funny, that she came to their secluded, tiny town. Hydaelyn worked in mysterious ways. But also, damn. She should have gotten an autograph when she had the chance!)

She was reminded of home briefly, but that was ok. She could go back one day to visit, but she was still on a mission. Ishgard was in need of help with reconstructing a district of theirs called the Firmament, so her crafting skills came in handy. She gained the notice of Skysteel Manufactory’s owner, and from there she finally got her wish to learn how to become a machinist. With the help of Stephanivien, she developed a rook autoturret. It was certainly fancier than her previous robotics, but still not very cute… She took it apart and built it up again, and again, and again, each time with slightly improved designs. Eventually, Tibby wanted to modify it into something truly unique. Maybe she’d make it look like a karakul, those were pretty darling. A sheep that shot bullets, what could be better than that?

For now, Tibby was content to learn all she could with Stephanivien, but one day soon enough she knew she’d get the itch to really start adventuring in earnest so she could fulfill her quest of finding the cutest creature out there to have the honor of becoming the visage for an automaton death machine, the queen of all turrets! Then normal citizens could feel safe, knowing monsters stood no chance against the face of something that could pass as a mechanical pet to the undiscerning eye. Maybe even the people in her village would feel safe enough to leave and see the world for themselves…

She wasn’t really sure if what she wanted was ridiculous, why she cared. Would she grow out of it? What would she do when her goals would be reached? How does one even know when they’ve found the right creature? Did she just want to see new things? To prove her innovativeness and become a celebrated inventor? She may have not been completely sure, but she’d at least try out adventuring. If she hated it, she could go back home. If not, then maybe she could make some friends who could help her discover more about life purposes. She had plenty of time to figure it out.

#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxivwrite #mango writes #ffxiv oc #tibby #tibitha #will she ever get a last name... who knows!#I'm struggling to figure out how I want to write her bc I play her in my dnd game #and she's kind of not the best person in that lmao. She plagiarizes her inventions and steals from good people to get what she wants #but doesn't realize how that could hurt others. She truly sees nothing wrong in it and thinks everyone should just do those same things.#is that worse or better? Is it evil? and that's so different than her original concept who was a weird shy mechanic and that's it. idk!!#so then I kind of threw that at her too and she gets to have troubles with indecisiveness and only has a general life curiosity.#isn't that enough? maybe she can just be a talented individual who has no big plans to use it for something greater. Let her be selfish #like how cahsi used to be but then becoming the wol kind of forced her out of it.#anyway if I think of an idea for Tibby to run in with my other OCs I may write her again.#Luvon works at Ironworks so would be a good way to have those 2 meet? A goldmine for sticky fingers...

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llettucestuff · 1 year ago

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This was supposed to be a short thing about a hc I have where Chase’s frame is a bit colder than normal, and Heatwave’s a bit warmer. Instead, this kind of derailed and became… whatever this is. It’s very self-indulgent and probably a little OOC lol. This particular fic has Chase and Heatwave as Amica Endura’s btw, but I won’t always write them like that.

ALSO I haven’t written for Transformers in like, a REALLY long time so please excuse any missed terminology :]

ALSO ALSO Chase is kinda inspired by @/delkios HCs here on tumblr from like 2016, and this series on AO3, which is also inspired by delkios. More on that in the tags. Enjoy!

———

Chase muses about the general nuances between him and his Amica, and their overall relationship in relation to Griffon Rock.

Or, Chase runs cold. Heatwave runs hot. They make it work.

—

Despite his core temperature being at an optimal point for functioning, Chase still ran decidedly cold, through no fault of his own. He’d been that way ever since he was a sparkling, sitting in front of heaters trying to warm up his endlessly cool servos and pedes, never really feeling truly warm, servos always either burning hot or in their natural state of permanent cold.

His Amica, the mech after Chase’s own spark, on the other hand, ran hot like an earth furnace. Chase recalls being told various stories of Heatwave trying to cool himself down, sneaking into freezers and other places mechlings like him shouldn’t be. It was almost funny, the way they were trying to achieve the opposite of what the other was. Maybe that’s why they work so well together.

Chase’s servos were always a touch too cold to be pleasant or fully “normal,” digits sometimes stiff with inclement weather coupled with a chilled frame, Heatwave’s palms always warm and grounding, frame hot like his temper.

They were equilibrium for each other, opposites in the regard of outward frame temperature, always ready to cool one down or warm the other up. It worked, and that’s why they were Amicas.

(Not just for that sole fact, Chase would input, musing that Heatwave’s companionship meant much more to him than his admitted handiness as a personal heater).

That fact, that is, their cool and heat swapping tendencies, hasn’t changed in the many, many vorns that they had known each other, even pre-Amica Endura status. So, given that, it isn’t expected by either of them for it to change once they meet the rest of the Sigma-17 rescue team, where they meet Blades and Boulder, or when they hit Griffon Rock and discover their new mission— and it doesn’t, as they predicted so.

(It’s a touch curious and a bit of a wonder how neither Boulder nor Blades discovered their Amica status before Griffon Rock. It’s not like either we’re being particularly subtle, but they supposed that their combined general professionalism probably skewed the other two bots’ perception of them, and any private time between themselves was usually during recharge time, or so subtly done that it was overlooked. Chase would find it funny if he wasn’t so concerned about his friends perceptiveness.)

Apparently, after scanning their new vehicle modes, Chase and Heatwave’s frame temperature translated, to a degree, to the inside of their cabins. This doesn’t necessarily cause a bad problem, but, minor complications do arise.

Sometimes, Kade would gripe about the heat during the summer months, complaining that the heat made him sticky. Sometimes, Chief Burns would be a touch chilled when first entering Chase’s cab, though he never really commented on such.

Both were easily fixed and placated with the flick of a dial that had the Chief murmuring gratefully, sinking in to the warmth with a subtle but firm pat to the dashboard. On the other hand, it had Kade and Heatwave grouching at each other loudly until Heatwave finally cranked the AC as high as it would go, and, in a most petulant manner, they would spat for a few minutes longer, then acquiesce; although both Chase and Cody were proud to announce the fact that these spats and arguments had become fewer in frequency over the course of time, a fact that they took immense satisfaction in: it meant they were getting along, working together, tolerating each other’s presence. They still fought, surely, because that’s just who they were as people (and cybertronian).

(Chase would not divulge Heatwave’s late-night ramblings about his parter, ranging from words not meant for the likes of little audials, to worries about his human friend. Heatwave was shudder-to-think that Kade would actually realize that Heatwave listens to him, much less cares about him, in the covertly roundabout way that Heatwave does when he meets new people that seem to grow on him. Yes, Chase was sure Heatwave’s quiet affections were born out of nothing but pure concern about the fragileness of his squishy human partner and the rest of the Burns family.)

At the end of the day, when they had the time to spare and a near-certain guarantee of no impending emergencies to disrupt them, Heatwave would sit on the bot-sized couch, Chase’s helm cradled delicately in his lap, and they could bask in each others’ presence and talk in their native vernacular, occasionally watching human TV or reading datapads and books alike. Of course, they would swap positions interchangeably— it all depended on how the two felt on that particular night.

Heatwave’s heat would leach into Chase’s cool, and the two mechs would sit there, basking in the steady, familiar equilibrium of their soothed sparks and evenly-temperatured frames.

Sometimes, one of them would instead lay down on the couch like it was a squishy berth, and the other could lay on top, trading coolness for warmth (and vise versa), and let the steadiness wash over them, EM fields melding lazily, and systems shutting down to fall into an easy, quiet recharge.

It was peaceful. Routine, when they could afford it. Nice, even, though they would argue on separate fronts that any one-on-one time with their Amica was beyond just “nice”.

It was the perfect way to recharge, Heatwave thought, never one to shy away from physical affection (in the many gruff forms he typically dished it out in) with someone he loved. If Chase could have it his way, they would do this every night, holding servos and muttering halting words and conversations half-thought out to each other into the gentle quiet of the bunker.

Chase’s normally rigid, borderline inexpressive field going almost wiggly and boneless, blanketing over them as he grumbled tiredly over his Amica, shifting as he knocked their helms together gently in a spur of the moment bout of (what sometimes felt like an overwhelming amount of) affection.

Heatwave gave his servo a gentle squeeze, making soothing little sounds to calm the policebot back into recharge and settling his own field over the two of them, engine purring quietly in contentment. Heatwave was quick to glare and snap at any of the other bots that might come near them that were in the “living room” part of the bunker with them, mostly for fear that they might make a nasty comment on their admittedly compromising condition, though that happening in and of itself was a rare occurrence due to the timing of their little quiet moments, and the sheer respect the other two held for them.

It was actually Boulder who found them the first time it happened on Earth, Heatwave recharging so deeply his engine was stuttering, with his helm cradled in Chase’s lap with one of Chase’s servos supporting his neck plating.

Boulder had stopped and looked, eyeridge quirking up in a decidedly learned human gesture, to which Chase merely brushed him off with a wave of his free servo and a flick of his field dismissively, returning to his datapad. Boulder, ever the calm, non-confrontational mech, had never mentioned it after the fact, drawing his own conclusions in the privacy of his mind (with maybe a few snapped photos for his memory files, just in case).

The second time, it was Blades who found them, Chase soundly recharging while leaning against Heatwave, their servos clasped between one another even in his recharge. Heatwave glanced up from the TV and glared at Blades with a viciousness that would earn him a scolding later, who skittered off without a word of question, a touch too skittish to try and ask the angry firemech until much, much later.

Heatwave was protective and touchy when it came to his Amica and their status, sue him.

Over the months, Boulder finally gathered some courage to ask Chase about their potential relationship, with all the grace of a thudding ballerina.

“We’re Amica Endura,” Chase had simply said after Boulder’s shy, stuttered question, almost smiling and most definitely pleased with himself, if the way tender emotion seeping onto his faceplate was any indication, “and have been for many vorns.”

“I see,” Boulder had replied, grinning and nodding, grateful that admittedly tactless way he asked the question hadn’t upset the policebot. “You two were partners back in the Academy.” It’s more of a statement than a question, prodding at the prospective double-meaning of the word.

“Heatwave was the only mech who wanted to be around me back in the Academy, given my… unique circumstances.”

“Unique—? Oh. Right. Sorry, Chase, I didn’t—“ realize, didn’t remember, didn’t know it affected your life like that— a frown, field tugging in, then Chase’s reassurance:

“It’s quite alright, Boulder. No bodily damage or any vulgar obscenities said, as the Chief says.”

“You mean ‘no harm, no foul’, Chase?” Heatwave entered the room with thudding pedesteps, looking between the two with half-formed suspicion lingering in his optics, arms crossed right against his chest. “What’s this about?” His field tugged at Chase’s with question and apprehension lingering between them, a silent what’s going on both said and not.

“Boulder was just inquiring about our Amica Endura status,” Chase informs, tone bordering on bright, his audial twitching in a different direction— most likely he heard something from upstairs, “And I find that we are the most probable source of reliable information about the subject, Heatwave, and our friend was merely curious.”

“Right.” Heatwave grunted, field tugging Chase’s briefly in something like relief and acceptance before patting his shoulder armor firmly and moving on, the brief contact exchanging both pleasant warmth and much-needed coolness.

“I think he’s a little…” Boulder trailed off, searching for a word that was less-rude than “prickly” or “overly worried”.

“Protective?” Chase hummed in question, helm tilting to the side, “I feel the same, but it is entirely warranted, given our past, and he is my Amica.” Chase says, like it explains everything, and, well, maybe it did, “I will stick by him, rites-willing.”

Boulder smiled in that soft, knowing way of his, optics warm. “Must be nice, having a sparkner all this time. I’m glad you have each other.”

“As am I. I’m grateful to have Heatwave for so long, and I’m want for nothing more in a partner.”

“That’s awfully sweet,” Bounder’s field went all soft, his affection tugging at Chase’s stiff field. “You balance each other out, now that I think about it.” Remembering all of the times Chase was able to calm Heatwave when he was on an irate, angry warpath with a servo to the shoulder plate and some hushed words exchanged in soft Cybertronian; all of the times Chase was stuck in a cyclical, logical thought-process and couldn’t see things from a different light had Heatwave telling him the facts point-blank, trying to drill his way through and urging Chase to attack the issue from a different, still somewhat logical connection.

Now that he thinks about it, Boulder recalls how Heatwave was always the mech that ran the warmest when they were on the Sigma, practically radiating heat in the endless, desolate cold of space that even they could feel. Chase was always the coldest, seemingly emanating a unique sort of cool that seemed permeated the space around him in some circumstances.

Opposites, indeed. But, Boulder thought, it was kind of fitting. Chase’s mouth tugged into that half-grin of his, “That we do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Boulder, I have some studying to do.” And with that, Chase sauntered off, likely in search of his police manual.

“Huh. Wonder how we didn’t see it before.” Boulder mumbled to himself, shaking his helm fondly and turning around to go back to the bunker through the garage.

“See what?” Blades asked, turning the corner, “If there’s any gossip, I want to know!” Primus, he was sounding more and more like Dani every day.

“I, uh. Well, you see,” Boulder attempted, still unsure if the two Amicas wanted their relationship aired out.

Blades shot him a look, both teasing and intrigued. “Well?”

Scrap.

#OKAY SO quick lesson on the headcanons for Chase:#he’s something called a NET patient #which was a series of experiments on bots to make them behave a certain way #like certain bots of certain frames already had some similar personality traits #but NET took this to the extreme and shut of parts of mechs sparks in order to cut off certain emotions #Chase is one of these NET patients and struggles a little with things that aren’t totally logical #I don’t lean into it TOO too much BUT #spoilers for the fic past THIS tag so yk:#the part where Chase mentions ‘unique circumstances’ is reference to how he struggled to fit in during his Rescue Academy days #with mechs just in general being rlly mean to him EXCEPT for heatwave #then they became partners then amica’s (I called it sparkners at one point cuz like. spark-partner. sparkner. I thought it was clever LMAO)#but ANYWAY GO READ THE THINKER THE FEELER #I feel like it’s a bit of a fandom staple and I love it #I read it a few years ago when I was a little younger and as someone looking for rep in media #seeing chase portrayed like that will always be something near and dear to me #tf #transformers #tfrb #rescue bots #transformers rescue bots #tfprb #rescue bots heatwave #heatwave #rescue bots chase #chase #rescue bots Boulder #Boulder #rescue bots blades #blades #Cody burns

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