#Two different vibes for the both of them

[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.

[annasofthe11thdimension]

Waltz

[laserlope-foundarock]

Made from the lovely screen photos and edits by @galedekarios

[cinnamon-flame]

Starting off the new year with I think the most background heavy piece I've ever made! I think Rainwings and Nightwings would celebrate their traditional holidays together after the events of The brightest night. So this drawing is meant to show their cultures kind of blending together during a very joyful time. I remember talking about this concept with someone on tumblr a year ago but when I went back through my posts I couldn't for the life of me find it - so if your reading this, I remember you and this drawing stems from that conversation so thank you!

Close-ups:

[magnolia-sunrise]

lately i've been enamored with the intimacy of poses where the characters face away from the viewer, their faces visible only partially or not at all

[virginreprise]

if you slap joel miller and arthur morgan together, looks and personality, you will have created my dream man.

[mbat]

can we Please cultivate a mindset here online that like. i dont give a fuck that you dont like something because, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i have no idea who you even are.

and this is meant more for the people who feel the need to be dicks online cause they dont like something and Need to harass a complete stranger about it

[weirdmageddon]

sorry for liking davejade in 2023 btw its in a cool way though

[ifidogaysomyself]

me, before playing cyno's second sq, knowing nothing about sethos, seeing the leak that he has a voice line about wanderer: oh thats hilarious, honestly good for them because god knows kuniboy needs normal friends lol

me, after playing cyno's story quest 2 months late to the party: oh god okay he's not normal. why did i ever think he was going to be normal. he and wanda are fully going to have the worst interactions ever arent they

[paperglader]

imgonnagetyouback is the most franchaela post michaela's return from india song to ever be sung. no i will not elaborate.

[born-to-lose]

WE ARE SO BACK

[ceiling-karasu]

Ideas on the two night watch squirrels from Episode 1

So, @rei-does-stuff and I have been talking about the two night patrol squirrels from episode one of SaH, since we both have the brainrot about them.

We both actually really like the names Sunchal Darami (Watch Squirrel) and Bocho Darami (Sentry Squirrel). Add yagan as night we can get Yagansunchal Darami and Yaganbocho Darami, since we headcanon them as essentially the night watch-squirrels for the village.

We both kind of see Geumsaegi as if he was their mentor. Both Sunchal and Bocho individually looked up to Geumsaegi as a great friend, and he cared for them right back as comrades. In turn, they all idolized Uncle Gom, as well, and saw him as an older family member who protected them.

I have a whole backstory scenario planned out and everything. I might actually write it or draw parts of it.

It is possible that those two squirrels were childhood rivals, whose animosity continued into adulthood while they vied for Geumsaegi's attention. Eventually, Geumsaegi put them on night shift watch duty as punishment until they could learn to get along.

But then I am thinking of a situation such as, one day, Sunchal and Bocho are having an argument a ways away from the village, over whether or not they heard some strange noise. The two enter a storeroom in order to muffle the yelling so they don’t get punished further. Except the noises one thought they heard were caused by some mice, so they get captured. They get dragged out into the woods, and have to work together to escape, once it turns out that they don’t actually know the schedules of the hedgehog patrols.

The two squirrels end up lost in the woods in the winter, and have to find shelter in a small cave or emergency shelter after one of them breaks through the surface of an icy pond (maybe the mice stop chasing them because they don’t want to deal with a prisoner with hypothermia).

They wind up confessing their grievances against each other and making up, and some time later, Uncle Gom manages to find them and bring them home.

(Or some variation of all that).

And the three are fast friends ever since, and peacefully hang out around the village and Flower Hill, but the two don't really dislike the night watch, and so stay on it.

However, after Geumsaegi leaves to become a scout infiltrating the Weasel Unit, he does not really get much of a chance to say goodbye, leaving behind a pair of very confused and concerned friends who do not understand.

I might draw them roasting chestnuts at night sometime. I do need to draw someone roasting chestnuts on an open fire, since I promised I would do it. Maybe the squirrels do it in the cave or something to stay warm.

We never really see these two squirrels differentiated after that episode, so Rei and I are discussing a headcanon in which these two squirrels

in civilian clothes from Secret Document, are the night watch squirrels out during the day.

[fox-guardian]

YOOO do you have a fursona yet . fun to see you on the furry grind

YES their name is Fiasco and i don't have any like. more plain recent drawings of them so have. little guy <3

[ID: A digital drawing of Fiasco as a feral. They are a brightly colored fox with tentacle horns and a tentacle tail. Their fur is orange with a green underbelly and paw pads, and their lower limbs, tail, and tips of their ears are purple. The tentacle horns are green and the underside of the fluffy tail is a green tentacle with suckers. They have purple eyes with pale green sclera, purple hair that's swept back, and stretched ears with big purple horseshoe rings hanging from them. end ID]

[darabeatha]

/ THESE IDIOTSSSSS

[pyrrhiccomedy]

How’s Tomassin doing? Besides, you know, wretched.

Surprisingly good actually? He's fallen in love with Innokenti, that blind and wild fairy-knight; who loves him in return. Bastian set them up, on the queer intuition that the two loneliest people he knew might have something meaningful to offer each other, despite their obvious differences.

It's very hard for Tomassin to be loved. It goes against the grain of that flinching thing at his heart to take up that much space in the world, to anyone. He will love - in quiet, aching solitude - very easily, and never ask for anything, or give any indication of his feelings. But how could he allow anyone to love him - blighted aberration that he is? How could that not be a great and selfish unkindness? What future could he offer someone, when he is on a forced march to kneel at God's feet and accept a seal of condemnation? How could he let someone open up a country in their heart for him, when he knows the touch of his feet upon its soil would poison the ground with salt?

But Innokenti had a blunt counter to all of Tomassin's objections: and had the nimbleness of mind, and perverse persistence, to make his case. Oh, you think you'd salt the earth inside his heart? Salt it, then: nothing grows here already, not anymore. At least you would be one living thing, in this vast and barren continent. Oh, you are afraid you couldn't offer him a future? He is fairy - what is the future to him? He lives in an endless present, and never thinks about tomorrow. You think you are condemned by your God: Innokenti has already been abandoned by his. He won't say that's not true or God doesn't hate you, Tomassin. What does he know about the Christian God? You could well be right. But he can hold your hand, in the darkness outside of salvation: and we could be a comfort to each other.

They've been very good for each other, since their love has been acknowledged between them. Innokenti has made Tomassin more comfortable in his own skin, more willing to speak up and less mortified to take up space; and Tomassin has made Innokenti more grounded, more patient, and more thoughtful. They are nearly inseparable, these days, and Tomassin's grief and shame over the unavoidable circumstance of his own existence has been undeniably, a little, alleviated.

[dailybakudekusong]

Today's BakuDeku Song Is: Such Great Heights - The Postal Service

And true it may seem like a stretch But it's thoughts like this that catch My troubled head when you're away And when I am missing you to death