#panic?

[quibble-auk]

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

Yeah we’re skipping ahead in the Dropmix trials because I think it’s fun.

I had too much fun writing this. The start is… well it’s rough to say the least. I’ll probably go back and fix that. I was struggling with it so much so I just put down the first thing that came to mind and decided I’d fix it later.

Shocker. I didn’t. And I don’t want to. (It’s mainly the first two paragraphs that I don’t like. I figure I can change them when we get more in between stuff written)

Next

Cometeater starts snooping around

—

Idk if I got Comet’s perspective perfect in this. Please tell me if it is wrong or if I need to change a part of it. I do not mind at all.

—

Cometeater sat contently in the medical bay, sat atop a small chair next to the berth that Sunstreaker currently lay in. His golden brother was awake, staring distantly at the ceiling. He had been back for a few days now, for a while accompanying his twin in unconsciousness. Sideswipe had been moved out of the side room and into the same room with Sunstreaker and Comet. Dropmix had reluctantly agreed, choosing to keep an eye on them when possible.

The large medic was currently not present, after they had gotten the supplies he and Jeopardy had quickly gotten to work on the patients. Cometeater didn’t mind, it meant he got to be away from the looming presence of the other gladiator for once. Ever since he had shown up here it always felt like the behemoth was looming, stalking him. It made him uneasy. He hated it. It was like Jazz all over again, but Dropmix didn’t try to hide it. The gladiator did it shamelessly.

Sunstreaker shifted in the berth to look at Comet, fierce protectiveness in his gaze, “That’s the same Dropmix from the Pits isn’t it?”

Comet nodded, his brother didn’t have the same kind of smell. He probably felt something familiar but didn’t have the tools to confirm his suspicions. Not in the same way Comet could. “Yeah, it's him.”

“Never thought I’d see a gladiator working as a medic,” Sunstreaker hummed, gaze intensifying. He looked Cometeater up and down, his optics narrowing slightly as if weighing something in his mind. The shift was small but noticeable. Then, his voice came low and deliberate.

“He didn’t try to hurt you ever, did he?”

It had been phrased carefully, cautiously so it sounded like genuine concern and a simple question. Comet knew better than to believe it was just that. He could hear the anger behind the words, see the eagerness in Sunny’s expression. He was itching for a reason to attack Dropmix, he had been since they had met.

Loyalty and protectiveness was most likely the reason, but Comet couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more in the way his brother seemed to constantly challenge the older gladiator. It had been clear he was functioning solely off of instinctual urges when they had stumbled upon him at first—he had pinned Cometeater without even realizing who he was at first. He was still relying on those impulses to cope with the stress, even now it seemed.

“No, he never hurt me,” Comet lied. He could still feel the phantom sensations of the crushing hand on his neck, his back pinned against a wall. He let out an exasperated sigh as his claws messed with a small crease in the berth frame.

The yellow mech had been having something that Cometeater could only describe as mood swings between possessive anger, overly emotional and clingy, or distant and unresponsive. The concussion and painkillers definitely weren't helping his stability… or memory it seemed. He and Sunstreaker had been repeating this conversation over and over since he had woken up.

This seemed to be the beginning of another aggressive swing.

The gladiator tensed up on the berth, his exposed plating bristling slightly at the lackluster response. Sunstreaker’s eyes narrowed, a small growl rumbling from his engine, “Don’t lie to me. Did he touch you?”

As if on cue, there was the possessiveness.

It was no longer if he had been hurt, it was touched. Sunstreaker didn’t want Dropmix touching him. Dropmix was not allowed to come in contact with him. It was a simple claim, Comet was Sunstreaker’s, not Dropmix’s. The other gladiator had no right to hurt, let alone, touch him; not with Sunstreaker around.

The other should already have the answer from when he had jumped them.

There was something alight in Sunstreaker’s eyes, the dying embers of rage. Instinctual impulses continued to dominate the gladiator's stressed mind and frame. Cometeater could hear gears shift as battle programs activated subtly, Sunstreaker was still eager to fight and protect what was his. He wasn’t thinking clearly still, he probably wouldn’t until Sideswipe woke up and they had a more official reunion. All three of them together.

Until then Cometeater would just need to guide his brother delicately through the possessive anger.

It was endearing but dangerous.

“No, Sunny,” Cometeater’s eyes narrowed back in return, standing his ground momentarily. Handling when his brother got aggressive had been a difficult task, there was no good way to handle it. He couldn’t sit and ignore it like when Sunstreaker would get distant, and being close reassuring him that Comet was there—was real—couldn’t fix it like when he would get emotional.

It was exhausting and the Pretender couldn’t help but sigh. His gaze softened after a moment as he looked over his brother. He forced himself to smile softly, trying to reassure his brother in hopes that would calm him down, “I’m fine, I promise. Sideswipe and I are both fine.”

The gladiator didn’t seem entirely convinced but after a few minutes he looked back up at the ceiling reluctantly. Comet chuffed a bit, satisfied that Sunstreaker had stood down so quickly. He moved to lean over the other carefully, resting his head in on the other while clinging to his arm. He had gotten scolded by Jeopardy earlier when he had tried to climb in next to Sunstreaker, this would have to do.

Silence resumed but Sunstreaker’s eyes didn’t become distant like they usually did when he was quiet.

Comet looked up at the other’s face, tilting his head. He couldn’t help but feel relieved that his brother could be acting normal, but fear lingered. If this wasn’t a typical mood swing then Cometeater would have to navigate the interaction and his brother’s instability blindly, “Is something wrong? Should I get Jeopardy?”

“No, nothings wrong,” Sunstreakers response was almost immediate, his eyes narrowing in contemplation. He frowned and huffed, shaking his head lightly, “Something is wrong with him.”

Comet blinked, “With who? Jeopardy?”

The golden gladiator growled low at his own thoughts, “No, Dropmix. He should have reacted by now! He should have snapped or… or something! He’s got the same twisted instincts as I do!”

Cometeater shifted uncomfortably, tensing as soon as the words had been said. An uneasy and unsettling feeling washed over him as he contemplated that. He didn’t want to associate Dropmix with his brothers, they should have nothing in common at all. They didn’t have anything in common. His brothers were good, safe. Dropmix was not, he was dangerous and bad. Comet could feel it, sense it deep within him. It was ever present and almost overwhelming at times.

But Sunstreaker wasn’t wrong. He should have the same impulses and urges as his brothers did, it was a brutal reality that Cometeater would rather ignore.

Perhaps the older warrior just had more control over them. The more he thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed. Dropmix had snapped, Comet had seen it, been the victim of it. He had snapped when the Pretender had attempted to attack him; he reacted quickly and violently and had been ready to punish him. Any gladiator would have, no matter how much self control they had, when they got in that mindset it was difficult to pull them out.

And when Sunstreaker had attacked he didn’t react with the same instinctual drive to dominate and punish. He attempted to talk him down and gain control over the situation peacefully. He hadn’t even tried to fight back against his brother’s assault.

“Yeah he is… he’s odd.” Comet murmured back, realizing that he had been silent for just a little too long to be normal in a conversation.

Sunstreaker had shifted to get a better look at him, he hotly corrected him “He’s not odd, he’s just wrong.”

Concern welled up within Comet as he searched his brother’s face for any explanation. “What?”

“He doesn’t react at all! To anything!” Sunsreaker began, irritation evident in his tone, “It's infuriating! Dropmix should have fought back when I attacked, but he just took it!”

“And he wears so much armor! He wore barely anything before. Sideswipe and I can barely stand all that we wear now! He should be suffocating in all that!” The yellow mech ended with a frustrated growl, anger sparking in his eyes again. In just a moment he had fallen back into that angry possessiveness, his hand going to grab Comet’s.

Sunstreaker’s fingers flexed against the berth frame, something creeping into his eyes—something sharp, something knowing. His vents hitched, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as his hand clenched. Then, his head snapped toward Comet, eyes blazing. His teeth bared menacingly as he spoke,

"He did touch you. He fragging—"

He remembered now, it seemed.

Comet silenced him by pressing his head into the other’s hand, forcing himself to remain calm and offer a gentle purr. “Yes, he did. But I’m fine now. You're here. All of us are.”

The golden gladiator struggled for a moment, before the anger simmered out again. His grip on Cometeater’s hand loosened. His expression shifted to something more exhausted as he relaxed, “Yeah. I’m here now. I won't let him touch you.”

He paused and looked over at Sideswipe before he added, “Either of you. He won't touch either of you.”

Comet nodded and breathed deeply, Sunstreaker had calmed down again and seemed fairly coherent, which was a good sign. A little protectiveness was to be expected. Cometeater could manage that. He nuzzled his head against the other’s shoulder carefully, still hunched over the berth. He wished he could have tried to squeeze in next to him, but the thought of another lecture made him remain still. The green mech had learned that Jeopardy was far more… gentler soul then when he had first met him. That seemed to change when Comet tried to “suffocate” one of the patients under his care.

Then he became a mini-Ratchet.

A far less threatening and grumpy one, but just as passionate and willing to rant on how stupid it was for him to do that. He had gone on and on about how he could have hurt Sunstreaker had he not been careful—which he was being careful. So, ha, Jeopardy was wrong. But it had been unsettling to see the mech so upset over something so Comet complied.

He couldn’t help but smile fondly at the thought of Jeopardy being a miniature, younger Ratchet. Had the grouchy medic started out the same? It was an odd thought to entertain, humorous and bitter all the same. He was pulled out of his thoughts by Sunstreaker’s diverted attention. He lazily followed his gaze, landing on Dropmix’s large desk.

The computer was on, the screen glowing dimly, the side monitors remained inactive. Datapads were sprawled across the surface, a few empty energon cubes and a variety of small tools still scattered from where they had been placed with a promise to be put away later. It was kind of a mess to be honest, some part of Comet couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t usually like that, the chaos getting the better of the large black mech in question.

Ratchet had always kept his desk organized.

But Dropmix wasn’t like Ratchet. They had nothing in common despite their shared medical insignia. They were nothing alike. Sure, Ratchet could be grouchy, he still cared. Dropmix simply put up with his existence, barely tolerating him. Jeopardy was like Ratchet but Dropmix was not, and he never could be.

“His computers on,” Sunstreaker stated observantly, something curious in his tone as he examined it.

Comet nodded, looking at his brother for a moment, slightly confused. Why was that the thing he had latched onto? He looked back at the desk bitterly, “Yeah, it is.”

The golden gladiator looked back at Cometeater, something vengeful in his eyes. He grinned, his teeth bared dangerously, this was not playful or arrogant, it was angry and seething. “You should go look at it.”

Sunstreaker wanted to get back at Dropmix for what he had done to Comet.

Dropmix had touched what was his and he was currently confined to the berth, making it nearly impossible for him to do this himself. But Comet could, he was good at this kind of thing, snooping around at things that he wasn’t supposed to. They both knew it.

Really, Cometeater should have struggled against the idea more, but being egged on by his elder brother only fed at his general distaste of the large “medic.” He wouldn’t lie to himself that the idea of getting back at the other was satisfying, that getting dirt on his back to give himself the upper hand wasn’t tempting. He had never liked Dropmix, he had been forced to play by his rules and he hated that. It was like Jazz but so much worse.

But he had the chance to get the advantage, he couldn’t do that with Jazz.

A smile tugged at his mouth. Sunstreaker knew him too well, he knew that this was the kind of shenanigans that Comet would get involved in. This time it was directed towards a common enemy, and the idea of it was satisfying.

It was irresistible.

Comet’s breath hitched as he turned back to the computer. He shouldn’t. He knew that. But he also knew what it felt like to be helpless. To play by someone else’s rules, to be watched and controlled and made to feel small. He had exercised it too many times, and here was a chance to finally get to switch the dynamics. He and Dropmix would finally be on an even playing ground.

Cometeater grinned and looked back at Sunstreaker, a vengeful smile still plastered across his face. It almost reminded him of—no, Sunstreaker wasn’t like her at all. A small welt of guilt grew within himself at the disgusting thought. His brothers were good, even when they looked at him with that kind of expression because it wasn’t directed at him, not really. That anger and vengeance was for Dropmix.

He could get behind that.

And Sunstreaker was here to protect him just in case. If he had enough strength to keep going for several weeks with untreated wounds endlessly killing then he would be able to protect Cometeater from Dropmix just in case. That was assuming he’d get caught in the first place, he was good at this. This is what he did. He watched and learned anc collected information.

Decision made he released his grip on his brother and slowly stood up.

Sunstreaker grinned wildly, menacingly.

The green mech slinked his way towards the desk casually. He eyes the direction of the surgical room that Dropmix had tucked himself away in, Jeopardy following at his heels. It hadn’t been too long, they would probably be in there for some time. Comet waltzed his way over to the desk, trying to look as casual as possible, just in case. Eventually he lowered himself down into the large chair behind it and smirked as he looked at the screen.

The fragger hadn’t even logged out.

Maybe Comet had given him too much credit or Dropmix was arrogant enough to believe that no one would try to look through his computer. Possibly a bit of both.

Another far more unlikely and disappointing possibility was that he didn’t have anything to hide.

Cometeater almost scoffed at the thought. No, Dropmix had to have been hiding something. He could sense it, feel it deep within himself. It stemmed from the same spot that screamed at him how untrustworthy Jazz was, how wrong Sunrazor was. It had yet to let him down yet, he had no reason to question it.

He started to look through the files that Dropmix currently had open.

The more undetectable he could be the better. If he didn’t need to open up anything to find information then it made it easier to pretend he had never been here in the first place. He took a moment to force himself to remember what tab had last been left open, a patient’s medical files. Once it had been ingrained into his brain he started sorting through everything. Just like his desk, it had the potential to be organized, normally it may have been, but it was actively a mess.

Comet couldn’t help the annoyed grumble as he flicked through yet another tab that was open in three different places. So far it seemed to be just patient and medical files, a few reports, some messages to other medical locations in regards to supplies—nothing out of the ordinary. It was almost irritating how mundane it was. His eyes skimmed through file after file, report after report, nothing catching his attention.

“Found anything good yet?” Sunstreaker asked from where he lay across the room, that same menacing and intentful tone in his voice.

“Other than he’s an absolute mess? No,” Comet reported curtly, not looking up from the screen. He paused for a moment, shifting his focus to where Dropmix was currently. Not that he could really see anything but it felt good to confirm that he hadn’t walked out and wasn’t silently watching him.

Sunstreaker grumbled disappointedly, “Seriously? Nothing?”

Cometeater ignored his impatience, rolling his eyes at his brother's antics. Even if the intent was malicious and he was still confined to the medbay, it was reassuring to have Sunstreaker there. The green mech looked over once more to confirm the lack of Dropmix before continuing to sift through file after file until he finally landed on a familiar name.

Sunrazor

He couldn’t stop the way his breath hitched and his muscles spasmed at the name. Images of the titan flashing through his mind, her intense stare and cruel smile that felt like it had too many teeth to be normal. Long, dark nights spent cowering under cover as she searched endlessly for him. The rush of adrenaline when she locked in on him. Her overpowering presence. The sound of her voice, booming and commanding. The way she had torn something out of herself like it was nothing—

Comet shook himself, forcing himself to focus, his brother’s scents across the room, steady and present. The sterile smells from the rest of the medical bay, the gentle lulling of music from above. He wasn’t out on the field alone with her, he was in a medical bay with his brothers searching for dirt against Dropmix. He hadn’t even realized he had closed his eyes, he opened them, taking a deep breath before continuing to read the file with a detached interest.

It was a field report for a battle, one that had taken place several months ago. Sunrazor had been there. As Comet kept skimming his attention was drawn to another mech, Bluerunner was the only mech specifically mentioned in—his eyes glanced up at the CO’s name—Valkyrie’s report. He had been killed in the battle by Sunrazor.

Crushed by her.

Like he had been nothing more than a pest under her boot.

It was enough of a mental image to make Comet shiver.

Valkyrie had managed to write the report professionally, as if she had been unbothered by this. Comet could see it though, it was too professional to be a normal report, she hid any attachment to what had happened with big words and short clipped statements.

Nothing on Dropmix though. Absolutely no reason why this file should be open so long after it had happened. The latest the other files had been was a few weeks ago when things had first started getting hectic. It matched up with the patient that had been here the longest, Dropmix only kept the relevant information open and easy to access. There had no doubt been more mission reports in the time he had been here but only the ones that had something to do with the patients currently in his care remained open.

It was something that would have been easily looked over by anyone else snooping around quickly. Comet would have missed it had it not been for himself recognizing Sunrazor’s name. The information only seemed to invoke more questions rather than answers. Frustrated, Comet scrolled to the bottom and his eyes landed on a small link. It was a private one that Dropmix had added. Something that only he would be able to see.

His claw hovered over the link. This was different. He knew it, felt it in his spark. He should stop. Cometeater should leave it alone.

He clicked.

It led him to a folder titled: FG-088

Comet skimmed through the folder, looking at the attached files. They were all battle reports, each one mentioning Sunrazor by name. Anyone’s report who was stationed at the base that mentioned the Decepticon had been stashed away in the folder. It seemed borderline obsessive. Why would he be stashing these? It couldn’t have been just tracking a high profile Decepticon because he was trying to hide the fact that he was doing this.

This was his dirty secret.

A pit settled in Comet at the idea of Dropmix knowing Sunrazor. He looked back up at the closed door that concealed the large gladiator.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, he might as well have been in the presence of Sunrazor herself with how fast it was beating. Comet was hyper aware of every intoxicating medical smell, the burning chemicals and sterile tools. Every spark currently in the room, including his brothers. The lights almost felt too harsh, like the blistering rays of sunlight in the pits. The music felt overbearing, an act of forcing calmness in a place where there was none.

Comet looked back down at the screen, attention drawn to the label of the folder. It had to mean something. It was just detached enough that anyone looking through the folders without context would have breezed by it. It had to be important to Dropmix though. It had to be because otherwise he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to hide the files and give it a discrete name.

He copied the name and pasted it in the search option.

At first nothing came up, nothing beyond the folder he had found before. Otherwise, there were no matches found on the computer. Disappointment clung to Comet, giving him a moment to breathe. He knew better though. The small words at the bottom of the screen haunting him.

Search additional drive?

Cometeater looked over at the computer’s port, sure enough there was a small chip. Which meant there was so much more information for Comet to look through. Important information. Important enough that Dropmix had it saved on a separate device. And secretive enough that he didn’t want any of the files appearing when he searched the drive.

He clicked the small words at the bottom of the screen. Dread boiled within him, churning his insides. He struggled to swallow and breathe as the computer took a moment before offering him a few different folders, each one containing a variation of the code. Comet slowly moved the cursor to the first one. He hesitated, mind temporarily paralyzed. Curiosity won, forcing him to click the folder and open the first file that popped up in it.

Patient FG-088:

There was a long detailed report, several diagrams and sidenotes. It was clear that this was intended for someone else to look over several times. Someone with more knowledge than Comet possessed because he couldn’t seem to understand what the blurred words were trying to communicate. That could have been because the smell of chemicals burned him leaving his mind reeling. He scrolled to the bottom of the long well thought out and organized report and froze when he looked at what lay at the end.

Comet couldn’t breathe.

He felt sick.

There were several attached images and a video attached. The video most likely contained the operation, actual footage of whatever the report was about for further use and examination. Like this was something to study. The images and video themselves didn’t make Cometfreze, rather who was in them. Who the main subject was.

Sunrazor.

Cometeater could have sworn his heart was trying to break through his chest.

In every image she was restrained to a table, the room around her dark, surgical lights focused on her. Comet wasn’t sure if it was just the angle or lighting but she seemed smaller… no, she was smaller. She wasn’t a behemoth strapped to a table, she seemed like an ordinary mech.

Sunrazor was opened up, plating pried off painfully and clamps keeping her from trying to shift moving pieces back into place to try and protect herself. She was hooked up to a countless amount of monitors and screens, all processing all kinds of information. Wires dug into her head, machines and pieces of her sitting at odd angles, her mouth opened in a silent scream. He could see the tension in her frame, see the fear in her eyes—because she was awake.

Comet wanted to look away.

He didn’t and that made it worse.

Dropmix didn’t just have the files. It wasn’t like this was something that he had stolen or obtained. No. These were Dropmix’s files. This was his documentation. He wrote this, his signature at the end of the notes. What made it all feel too real was the fact that Comet looked at the images and could see his familiar form. He didn’t just study this.

He was there too.

He did this.

Willingly.

Hunched over Sunrazors open body, large hands moving and working on her uncaringly. Those same hands that had touched him, healed him. The same ones that had gone through operations with his brothers. Dropmix had operated on them just like he had Sunrazor. Who’s to say he didn’t do the same things to them? What he had planted something?

Cometeaters lungs burned for air and he could hear Sunstreaker calling his name faintly.

He couldn’t move, his body screamed to move, to hide or flee. But his muscles were stuck in place. Dropmix had done this. He had helped in creating the thing that tormented him. And then he had the audacity to work on his brothers. He—

Cometeater was reminded that the world existed beyond his spiraling mind by a large hand landing firmly on his shoulder. A hand that once had claws. Hands that didn’t belong to his brother.

He could see Sunstreaker struggling to get up from the berth. His injuries slowed him down. The gladiator managed to stand before faltering. He continued his slow approach. It was clear that he desperately wished he could have been faster. Comet hadn’t thought about the medication running through his brother that kept him sluggish and weak.

Sunstreaker wouldn’t be able to help. He wasn’t moving fast enough. Comet didn’t want him to get any closer than he already was. He didn’t want him to be in danger like that.

Cometeater couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes. He didn’t know what emotion sourced them, he was feeling too many right now. Too much because he knew who’s hand that was.

It was Dropmix.

Dropmix was behind him, seeing what he did.

The mech leaned down over him, taking the mouse from Comet’s limp hand with his free one casually. He didn’t say anything as he slowly closed down the folder, hiding it from Cometeater’s prying eyes.

He knew Dropmix’s secret.

It didn’t feel empowering anymore.

[wolves-of-the-void]

Go from big post to lose words in split second. Between word even. Some sentence big long easy. Some hard big. Happen why????????

[thelikesoffinn]

I'm not sure what a good reason to call in sick actually is, but walking up deaf on one ear feels as good as any.

[rubbishraven]

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

post/artist

[lesbeansoups]

I think we need to appreciate this part of Brennan Lee Mulligan's WIRED interview a lot more:

"The evangelical right in this country needs to manufacture outrage to hold onto its voting block. [The satanic panic about DnD] was arbitrary, as the targets of their outrage always are. Fight the power."

[panic-flavored]

realizations

[cheddar-baby]

Guinea Pigs Eating a Grass Field

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

i do think there is a degree to which certain kinds of Instagram activists have convinced themselves that traumatising themselves in solidarity is a useful form of activism. "I'm having nightmares and crying so much I want to be sick because of all these videos of dying children but I can't look away while people are getting hurt" I mean don't you think you'd be able to help more if you weren't having nightmares and crying all the time?? don't you think this is a one-way trip to burnout? don't you think maybe increasing the amount of trauma going around is counterproductive? I dunno bro there's something to be said for bearing witness but there comes a point where you gotta look hard at yourself and go "am I helping, or am I just making myself suffer so I don't feel guilty for not suffering while somebody else is experiencing bad shit"

[untilsfe]

When aggravation turns into a confession. Damn, that sure escalated quickly!!

[thelaurenshippen]

watching bridgerton and obviously there were a lot of things wrong with the way socializing has worked in the past, but honestly the idea of a "calling hour" is so appealing. office hours for friendship. you can show up unannounced at my home between 1 and 3pm. you must leave by 3pm. I may give you a pastry. lets bring that back

[draconym]

Seeing tumblr users tag their blorboposts with "gay panic" is making me insane. This term does not mean what you all think it means.

[star-girlfriend]

Did u get my vibes man?

[quaintpanic]

Wish you could louder?? Well. Try tlaking into 🎤 the michaelphone.

[magnificentmicrowave]

I NEED YOU TO BE PRESENT

FOR WHAT I AM GOING TO DO NEXT

[voltaspistol]

Jesus Christ, we really are back in the roaring 20s.