#Both boys are safe and...

[thebrokenmechanicalpencil]

@quibble-auk

(Tw. Panic attacks, violence, angst, gore.)

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Comet was laying with his back to Dropmix.

Comet couldn't breathe.

The large mech  had gestured and not so kindly asked him to lay down on the extra berth in the room. Now revealed by the bright sterile lights. Comet remembers it as not so kindly because he knew what the mech was unintentionally signaling with his clenched jaw. 

It revealed a hardly grasped anger.

 Dark blue optics sharp and lips in a tight line, the very moment Jeopardy had slipped from the room like a clueless child. Cometeater wasn’t supposed to have seen that though. Wasn't supposed to smell the flash of fear. Nor witnessed the way Dropmix had smoothly hid it. The fear and concern was the first to plunge. The ripples of his cold facade drowned any emotions he allowed on his face.  With that, and a sharp gesture, Comet was ordered onto a table.

That glimpse of Dropmix’s anger did nothing to soothe the Pretender. 

His throat still throbbed from their earlier squabble, his back plating burning from the impact on the wall. Comet did not want this medic near him, medic now right? When he allowed his eyes to cut up at the imposing “medic,” all he saw was the same mech who had fought in the arena. Mercilessly ripped the heads off of mechs who had tried to run. Tried to escape. To hide. Comet felt his heartbeat pick up as the old battered memories peeked over the wall in his mind. Their wet bloodshot eyes winking in dried blood. 

“I said, you need to lie down.”

Comet jolted at the firm growl, Dropmix watching him carefully from the opposite side of the berth. Comet felt his muscles stiffen at the very idea of doing so. Sitting next to him was bad enough. “Don’t make this difficult Cometeater, the sooner we get this done the sooner I go.” The large mech kept his face perfectly neutral, but a raise of an eyebrow showed the smallest twitch of tension. Comet knew if that tension broke he wouldn't survive it a second time.

“How?” He didn't like how quiet he sounded, he was never supposed to put himself in a situation like this. Weak, vulnerable. Where had his bravado gone? It's probably stuck in the heavy joints of Dropmix’s fingers, where they had locked so tight on his throat Comet had lost any and all sense for far too long. 

Weak.

“On your left side, you said it was your right hip?” Dropmix gestured slowly at the slab of metal gleaming in the lights. Dropmix had wanted them on. 

Comet didn't want to.  It was too much like laying with his belly exposed. Begging to be gutted. His whole body screamed as he cautiously laid down on his side. Making sure he faced the ex gladiator. You need to be awake for Sideswipe, he reminded himself to maybe soothe the growing fear. 

Dropmix was staring at him. 

You need to agree to this to keep him safe. Comet clenched his fists to ignore the shaking. He was doing this for Sideswipe.

Dropmix moved out from in front of him and Comet felt his back scream in warning. In a chain of muscles his whole back tensed for an impact, instead Dropmix spoke again. His deep baritone shook Comet to his core, “I’m going to run a couple tests,” No choice. No room for argument. Those awful optics bore into his skin as the mech moved. His once faint scent now wafting and smothering everything else. Cold and cloying. Comet felt his breath pick up as his skin tightened. “Relax, I can’t do these properly if you're stiff as a board.” Comet forced, and it was an exhausting effort, himself to relax. His muscles twitched in disagreement, jumping under his skin. 

He could feel Dropmix.

In a warm heat behind him. Too close. His leg twitched with the need to run, to hide. Dropmix was too close. He needed to run, now. Comet felt his armor start to tremble with tension at danger being so close. Shame bloomed in all its ugliness, he needed to calm down. Comet was better than this. He had been examined before. Ratchet had done this before.  Comet slowly breathed in and out, lowering his head onto his folded arm. 

Ratchet had never ripped a mech’s face off.

Dropmix slowly grabbed his thigh, allowing enough of a warning for a normal bot. But it did nothing to ease the influx of panic. It whirled over Comet in deep gusts. His heart was beating so fast it hurt, pounding in his chest as Dropmix lifted his leg to test its limits.

The shot of agony sent a sudden sharp chirp from Comet’s mouth.

Comet shoved his face into his arm, as that awful shame and fear mixed. He didn't dare look up at Dropmix. What was wrong with him? He was better than this. Comet tried to shake out the fear and panic as Dropmix began to slowly move his leg again, after a long moment that had Comet’s face burning. 

He’s going to rip your leg off. 

The rogue thought sent a wave of terror down his spine. Thick and cold he felt like his lungs were about to collapse.

No he’s not. Why would he? Cometeater forced even breathes, closing his eyes against the now horrendously bright clinical lights. 

Because he has done it before.

The faint smell of the pits from the gladiator behind him made Comet’s mouth water like he was about to throw up, images of Dropmix doing that very thing echoed across his closed eyes.

A thick limb in the gladiator’s hands, energon cascading in a pink waterfall. 

Comet forced a breath, he needed to calm down. He needed to stop.

His red and black helm coated, teeth clamping on the mech’s face.

Comet’s heart hammered as he felt his chest cramp from the force of his scattered breathing.

The ripping of wiring, the horrible gurgles as energon erupted from Dropmixes mouth as the bit into another gladiator's belly.

Comet couldn’t smell Sideswipe anymore, only the Pit. Only Dropmix

The arena smelt hot and dry, it hurt. Why did everything have to hurt?

Dropmixe’s clean scent choked him. His breaths were too erratic. Why was Dropmix closer now?

Dropmix was in the arena. It stank of him. He glared from the back of it.

Dropmix had a firm hold on him. Pinning him. Touching him.

Those horrible hands clenched around him. “Don’t be so scared little one.”

Optics flashed. Cold and unforgiving.

She smiled, his blood painting her face.

Comet screamed.

The scent was everywhere. Dust was choking him.

Comet could only hear his own breaths. Haggard and loud.

Its too loud.

The hands tightened.

“STOP!”

He wrenched himself away, cold tears marking trails of liquid terror down his face.

Her breath fanned him, she smelt like Sunny’s energon.

“PLEASE!”

Comet hit the ground as the sobs overwhelmed him. 

He couldn't breathe.

[not-the-living-ghost]

One thing that i really appreciate about dead boy detectives is that they never treat platonic relationships as if they are less important than romantic ones. charles’ “rejection” on the staircase is never truly treated as a rejection, because he loves edwin back in all the ways that matter. in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't really matter if they are dating or not because charles and edwin will always be charles and edwin no matter what

[lightgamble]

DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN | 1.01, 1.02 & 1.03

I'm not him anymore. And, I won't let myself be.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Daddy, don't go.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[maladaptivedaydreamerlala]

I would die for you - Neil

I would kill for you - Andrew

I would live for you - Jean

[neodiekido]

little red riding hood and the boy who cried wolf

[caroandcats]

Eddie 🤝 Christopher — hiding at Buck's to avoid talking to/about Eddie's girlfriend

[dandeleon]

alternatively, fidds bringing ford some tea/coffee in bed

yayyyy helloooo once again my friend sky!!!!!!👋😁🩷🩷🩷🩷

oughhh theyre so in love,,, wahhh,,🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💞💞💞💞💞

[churrochamp]

BuckTommy kinda snuck up on me. Full disclosure I was 80% watching this show just for Buck (sue me it's been a stressful year. the other 20% is Angela Basset and absurd disasters) so I was prepared to lean into whichever ship made him the happiest and most secure Buck he could be. Putting on a suit for a cursed skeleton funeral. Stealing a helicopter to help save Buck's work family. NOT snapping and firing back in moments of stress. Cooking a five-course breakfast the morning after... it's the little things :')

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

There's something about Tim that has always slightly unnerved Bruce.

That's not to say he doesn't truly love him, the little Robin who dragged him kicking and screaming from the edge, who reminds him everyday he has to be better.

Yet something in his eyes always makes him hesitate.

Watching him solve cases connect dots that even Bruce at his most able couldn't hope to understand.

Watching him fight it's calculated every move planned but executed with a grace that would make ballerinas jealous.

He couldn't identify it the greatest detective stumped by his own son until one day when he walked down to the cave.

His eldest sparing with Tim it was beautiful moves that he could never replicate they worked as if they were one. Escrima quickly blocked by a bow staff, every single move perfectly executed.

It felt like for once he could see clearly the thing that had made him so uncomfortable brought forth a fear that was so instinctual.

It was Dick.

The same moves, the quiet grace the deadly motions, even the anger.

A perfect copy a clone couldn't even hope to achieve.

He stays so still almost frozen afraid to catch the predators attention.

As Tim ends it heading to the showers his eyes drift meeting Dick's.

A smile that before he would call kind he can't help but see almost a sadistic undertone like a animal playing with it's food.

He breaks first, hair standing on end as he heads back up into the manor.

He should do something, but he can't whatever monsters that are his sons he decides to turn a blind eye.

To let the tigers play he knows he is beaten that if he were to try anything his blood would stain his eldest's chin.

But a darker deeper part of Bruce recognizes the same look he ignores in the mirror.

The look that both Jason and Damian try so hard to replicate.

He has never consciously favored his children but as he erases contingencies and allows full access to a network he had never shared with anyone before he can't help but feel a tide changing.

Sitting the next morning at the table secrets smiles shared between him and his sons. Jealously crossing theirs brothers eyes he wants to cackle, scream but it's time he returns the loyalty that they have bled.

After all what's some secrets between Kings and crowned princes.

[fobnsfwdoodlesbackup]

Been watching @sosaysdean edits and it's doing things to my brain

[rustedhills]

Disney, releasing Wish: "so it's all about legacy--the new generation surpassing the old, overcoming the evils perpetuated by them, relinquishing singular power... and there's an old man in a tower, uh... animal sidekick, i guess..., ah... magic...?

Miyazaki, just out of frame, sledgehammer raised:

[fullscoreshenanigans]

The Promised Neverland 8th Anniversary Art by Posuka Demizu [Complementary piece]

[squidcandy]

sketched out a pathetic sopping wet cat etho moment from secret life (clip under the cut)

[the-heron]

congrats 2 henry peglar for being the only bitch confirmed as to be Fucking That Old Man

[secret-smut-sideblog]

I can't stop thinking about this