So we (probably) know that Alastor died from a gunshot wound to the head, and that hunting dogs may or may not have been involved right?
But we don't know the details
See a lot of people assume that a bullet to the head = instant death but in fact we really only need certain parts of the brain to live. Those parts are mostly located at the lower back of the head, far away from the frontal lobe
So consider with me, Alastor is shot straight on in the forehead with a .22 hunting rifle, the bullet enters his head and either bounces around in his skull, turning his brain to paste
Or
It exits somewhere through the parietal bones or upper occipital, leaving him alive if rather scrambled. Intracranial pressure increasing as he bleeds into his brain.
Alastor then slowly loses consciousness on the forest floor as a pack of snarling hunting dogs closes in around him, sealing their bared teeth as his final memory
For added angst, he lives a while even after losing consciousness
He is brought to his mother, who holds his hand as he takes his last stuttering agonal breaths, completely oblivious to the fact that she's by his side
hello o’ industrations, might i place an order for a… ah, yes. blue buddy, purple pecker, and jesus jam? though i think a dragon demolisher is in order, as well. can you tell me the price of a supple slider? it being glass and all…
xoxo syd
Yes hello kind buyer. I’ve packed all of those up nice and neat for you, all cozy in their packaging ready for their new home. Although i must say the dragon demolisher isn’t in stock right now. You see since it’s three times the size of the rest it takes a lotta materials to make, so i’ll ask my guy to hurry up and make a nice one for you.
The supple slider will be about 56,79 dabloons. I know i know it ain’t cheap but i can tell you its of the finest glass to be found.
He moves further down, where he can feel Oscar’s sharp collarbone jutting out. Somehow he’s never actually seen Oscar shirtless before. There’s very few images of it online - yes, Lando researched it and cleared his history right after. The fact the first time he’ll see it is while Oscar trembles beneath him is enticing.
Ravenous, he drags his teeth across the other’s collarbone and Oscar whimpers again, hands coming up to clench in his hoodie and Lando forces himself to stop everything.
“No touching,” he pants out, his own dick getting hard again. “Hands by your side.”
Oscar’s eyes are cloudy with lust, and that hint of fucking defiance that Lando wants to squash out - silence. In some ways he wants this, this whatever it is - one-time-fling, celebration-for-the-win-fuck to change Oscar’s life - be so mind-blowing that he never forgets it.
In some ways, he wants to elevate him to a new level of pleasure.
My god I wasn’t imagining that they made Ahti hotter in AW2 lol they tore his shirt open more and ripped his sleeves to expose his forearms what the fuck
Adding onto sick cybertron/ians having congested vents and intakes.
( Big gross mess warning + contagion ment + weird transfor\mers headcanon biology )
-It started out innocently enough with them noticing a bit of a weighty feeling in their vents, writing it off as a bit of loose debris that’ll work itself out. Fast forward a day or so and their miserably dragging their pedes across the floor, an oppressive, heavy, congestion having settled into their vents. They definitely have a virus.
-A slight cough at first, unproductive and doing little to loosen the thick layers of infected energon and internal fluids that now block their breathing systems.
-Then the tickling sensation. They really wish they could ignore it. It builds up slowly, they feel it more intensely in their nose first, until that intensity begins to spread to their vents. A miserable itchy fluttering in their chest, the hearing processors in their helm fuzzy, buzzing like static, their mind hazy as a headache pounds, the ticking sensation mounting.
-They try so hard to hold it back, using what little energy they have to forcefully clamp their vents shut, but it’s no use. Their body snaps forward as they let out a sneeze, their vents flying open as a spray of sickly, mucus-like, energon and fluids escapes them, landing all over their suite or wherever they happen to be.
-They sigh, groaning in frustration as several more sneezes overtake them. Out of breath when the fit is over, their external vents now beginning to ooze, feeling it drip onto other parts of their frame. They sniffle pathetically, only resulting in their vents shutting for a short moment, a dull, wet, sound coming from their upper half as they try to keep from making more of a mess.
-Perhaps later they’ve been confined to rest by someone, quarantined in their suite or the repair bay. They mope about, exhausted but unable to get a decent recharge. Their vents have become so unbearably clogged, thick globs of infected energon now line their external vents, always dripping a bit, yet it still feels like they can’t even begin to clear themselves of the congestion.
-The slight cough from earlier has turned into a harsh rattling that wracks their frame, only made worse by the seemingly ever present tickle in their breathing system, culminating in wrenching, explosive, sneezes that catch them off guard and launch a spray of infection towards whatever unfortunate object or person that happens to be in front on them.
-They may attempt to try and clean out their vents themselves, it would almost seem pointless with how much mucus their producing, but their desperation to relieve the congestion outweighs their logic at the moment, and besides, they don’t think they could bear the humiliation of asking a fellow bot or Primus forbid, a human to help. They grab a buffing towel, closet thing to a tissue they could find, their servos shaking as they try to wipe at their poor irritated vents, flinching occasionally when they hit a sore spot, the towel quickly becoming saturated and soaked through. Any progress they made seeming to be instantly undone as their vents continue to leak, the cleaning seeming to have only exacerbated the tickle, sending them into yet another harsh sneezing fit as their firewall and anti-viral software tries it’s best to rid them of the illness, and leaving them completely drained.
it's kind of like self shipping except im shipping my antique doll with a fictional antique doll but that fictional antique doll is also someone i see myself in so