Tag: gore

In the Metals of Madness

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

The dormitory had just a few weeks ago been one of the few recognizable buildings left in this sector, but now it looks as if it had been the target of biological warfare. This level of rust isn’t natural, the darkened metal somehow both appearing to have partially melted and be brittle enough to be flaking, thin shavings of shrapnel littering the ground. Megatron pauses at the edge of the effected area, long enough for Bee to dismount before transforming and rising to his pedes again.

“Navigation fails within whatever zone this group has set. Walking is…” Safer was the wrong word. “-preferable from here. If you begin to feel any ill effects, tell me right away. Understood?”

Yes, sir-

(Bee immediately plugs his nose as his first step kicks up a plume of dust and a smell. It’s horrid! He feels it all the way to his filters from a single intake and he covers his mouth to keep it from getting on his tongue. And it only gets worse as he takes a step and the ground crushes under his feet into a oozy paste, as if it had only been covered by a thin veneer of rust. He leaves tracks where he stands, but presses forward to survey the walls of the old dormitory.)

(He almost feels sorry for the building as he travels further into the decrepit space. The only light came from the gaping hole where the south wall had been before its mysterious explosion. Whatever had been inside was all crushed into the muck of the floor, broken datapads and pieces of machinery reduced to flat smears where they hadn’t been… He picked one bit of hydraulics and tubing up. It had been… very cleanly cut in a semi-circle pattern. It seemed familiar. Were they building things in here?) 

(Bee shuffles around for his spellbook. It’s in his cab somewhere, under his sword. He takes it out first and holds his sword under his arm while he hands the piece of machinery off to Megatron.) Any idea what this is suppo- 

(It’s not until he holds it upright that the other end finishes transforming and drops a hand onto his elbow. Bee has been holding a severed arm, and he yelps and drops the thing in an instant.) CRIPES!

Megatron feels the scent, but it’s something he’s disturbed to find he’s familiar with. The decay of diseased processed energon, of frames exposed to raw radiation until their protoforms boiled and their mesh bubbled. He spoke of none of this, only hurrying faster inside. His pedes sink deep into the landscape here, the effect only lessening a little in the decrepit structure. The less time spent here, the better.

Looking around, he finds furniture and other unrecognizable chunks of metal twisted and shorn, along with ramshackle barricades and sealed doors that were not reported by his scout. Bee’s question gets his attention, but rather than recoil from the arm, he leans down to pick it up again. The joint is mangled, as if torn in mid-transformation, but it had been severed from the shoulder with deadly precision. “… I believe this may be a bite. But I can’t think of anything but scraplets that can cut so cleanly, and it’s much too big for that.”

@radioactivibee answered:

37. Broken vertebra

He can’t quite hold back a sigh. Whether it’s annoyed or resigned is anyone’s guess. But even after anything, even if this feels disgustingly vindictive, Bumblebee can’t leave the former warlord to suffer. Even for their species, spinal strut injuries were tricky and painful. It’s a blessing and a curse that Bumblebee is so much smaller.

“Don’t move, focus on me,” he commands softly, kneeling to gently work his way through gaps in silver playing. “I’m gonna disconnect a few relays, lessen the pain to something more bearable. But you need to be able to feel if something else goes wrong before real help gets here. Hold on, this might sting a bit.”

Already, he’s popping an energon cube out of a subspace pocket. “Optics up, Megatron. I need you online while we wait. You could give me some kind of grandiose speech about change…or tell me what you need those relics for. Smokescreen mentioned something a while back. Aren’t those better left behind as stories for sparklings? I never told my Council about them, don’t you think that’s too much power for one government to hold?”

Another sigh, the sound of a popping seal. “Never mind, you can tell me when you’re repaired. Here. Keep your energon up. I don’t know who did this or if it was intentional, but if they could take you down, they’ll mow me over in a sparkbeat. We’re gonna need that cannon of yours functional and ready to go, leave aiming the damn thing to me.”

Megatron has to keep reminding himself that Bumblebee is no longer an enemy. It isn’t easy, when all of his battle protocols keep pinging him to stay alert, to defend against the thing that is currently still attacking him. No, Bumblebee didn’t do this to him. The Insecticon did. It hadn’t latched onto him with that… appendage, he’d severed it first, but it hadn’t acted like any Insecticon he’d ever fought. Another thought chilled him. There’s never just one.

[[SYSTEM SHUTDO- Action Overridden.]]

The warlord’s optics flickered. There was a cube in front of him that wasn’t there a moment ago and he took it, willing his servo not to shake. Focus on the pain. You’ve been through worse. Stay awake. “Relics. Smokescreen. I don’t care about… the relics. But we don’t know… which of the-”

[[SYSTEM SH- Action Overridden.]]

He growled as Bumblebee grazed against a cracked sensor. “Which of the coordinates will lead to… the Allspark. It was never recovered in my Universe…” Because I killed the last mech who knew its location.

Megatron grew still and quiet, listening. His cannon charged. “You better have been serious… about aiming for me.”

☹

thesoundlessvoid:

20. Open Fracture of Leg

It’s rare that he hits the ground that hard. Every time Blackout flies, he runs the risk of his hallucinations choosing to strike and causing problems, but statistically speaking, he usually okay.

Not today.

Suddenly not being able to tell where the sky and the ground are when one is cruising at five thousand feet is a problem. He’d done his best, resetting everything he could think of, trying not to get lost in the hallucination that served to bend reality out of recognition. 

The tyton came back to the real world about two hundred feet from the ground. It was barely long enough for him to right himself and get his legs underneath him before he collided with the ground with a forty-thousand-pound thud that shook the terra for hundreds of feet. Animals and birds fled explosively, cawing and screeching in fear as the ‘Con bounced into a deep, wide, canyon-like ravine, ricocheted off the fucking walls what felt like fifty-seven times, and landed in a titanic heap at the bottom. 

Blackout isn’t sure if he’s even in one piece, so for now, he remains still. After a moment, optics still closed, he moves the fingers on each hand, and does the same with the long, curving foot talons that make his kicks so deadly. Pain seems to shoot from everywhere, but, his left leg in particular, provides a white-hot stabbing pain he can’t ignore. Looking down, it becomes clear why.

Keep reading

Megatron was not forged for flight; he felt no call to the sky as some of his troops reportedly did, had no wings or rotors that ever craved the wind against them. Even so, it was the smallest fraction of escape that he allowed himself as a warlord. It wasn’t often anymore that Megatron is able to venture off-ship on his own, without some sort of imminent peril that needed addressing, so he flew at a relatively leisurely pace. As he came to a forested area with signs of a recent crash, it became apparent that imminent peril was indeed at hand. Ah well.

Landing mid-transformation, Megatron waited for his plating to settle completely before walking down the path of destruction. Only a large, military vehicle could have left this amount of carnage, and there had been no human distress signals in the air. Soon enough, the end of the trail dropped down into a ravine, with gouges from claws running down the sides. Definitely not human.

What he hadn’t expected to see was a mech he had thought was long since perished. Megatron dropped down into the cavern for a closer look, to ensure that his optics hadn’t deceived him. Despite the other’s injuries, the warlord approached him with a grin.

“Blackout. So you still function after all… albeit with some difficulties, it seems.” He put in a call for immediate evac and medical assistance. Strong as he might be, Megatron could not lift the tyton out of here on his own.

Well That Hurt

memeattic:

Send me “ ☹ ”, and I’ll generate a number between 1-75 to see where/how my muse is injured. Send “ ☹ ⇋ ”, and it’s your character living the pain. The third option would be “ ☹ ☹ “ to have both wounded (in which case first generated number will be for my muse and second for yours).

Tw for possible blood and gore! Please be mindful of your partner’s possible triggers that might only apply to a couple of these.

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I’m a little scared to ask, but Mancudera.

What is the most physical pain your muse has felt?

Throughout my lifetime, I have learned that there are many different kinds of pain, even when only speaking about the physical. The burn from a close-range explosion is much different than a blade slicing through your internals and comparing them is difficult. 

Unicron’s torture may be my answer, though that may simply be because it is fresh in my mind. Having a limb torn off while your senses are artificially heightened is a close second.

(sniffsniffsniffsniffsniff)

Megatron’s face is covered in the blood of the several cows he’s been shamelessly devouring. He tosses his head back to let another mouthful of entrails slide down his throat, and spots the little yellow intruder. If he had been any larger, he would have been met with a vicious snarl. As it was, the small thing was no threat to his sizeable kill. 

As long as he didn’t move in on the carcass the giant was currently working on, he may even be allowed the scraps.