#Exploding propane

[trueconservativepundit]

Net Zero

  By Rob Pue, Publisher – Wisconsin Christian News   “Net Zero.”  That’s the plan put forth by Globalist tyrants pushing the false narrative of a  “Climate Change Crisis.”  “Net Zero” is supposed to mean that by the year 2030, just six years from now, human beings will be putting “zero” so-called “greenhouse gases” into the atmosphere.  Because according to the Globalist narrative, if we don’t…

[woso-dreamzzz]

Teenage Dirtbag II

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: It goes well until it doesn't

It's an honour, Mapi thinks, to watch you work.

She knows that she's talented with a pencil but that doesn't hold a candle to the way that you can create such detail on a wall with just some spray paint. You wield the cans expertly as you finish off the shading of the Barca crest on Ingrid's shirt and take a step back to survey your work.

It's picture-perfect and Mapi is stumped at how it's taken your family this long to recognise your talents.

"Alright," Ingrid says," Come on, picture time."

You groan but allow your sister to shepherd you in front of the mural to take a picture. She snaps several, inspecting each of them before finally nodding, satisfied.

She's been doing it for every stage of the process, to document it. She took pictures when you had drawn up your stencils, when you did your base layer and when you did your details.

It's a little annoying but you know you'll be glad later on when you have the pictures to post on your Instagram.

Mapi helps you cover the mural with cardboard so only the very bottom is shown. You grab your blue and red can and stab them with the scissors you've brought with you.

"You might need to back up," You say to your sister and her girlfriend," This will explode in a sec."

The cans are letting out a high-pitched squeaking sound and you usher Ingrid and Mapi back a few steps. You've blocked off the rest of your mural so only the bottom will be splattered with blaugrana colours.

"How do they work?" Mapi wonders aloud.

"Well," You reply, not turning your eyes away from the squealing of your cans," Liquid paint is mixed with a pressurised gas that remains liquid at room temperature. The ones at home that I use have di-methyl ether but I think these have a mix of propane and butane." You shrug. "So I think that means the solvent in them is acetone."

You look over at the shocked look on Mapi's face just as the cans finally explode.

"What?"

"You're incredibly smart," Is what she says in answer and you kind of shrug as you go to collect the cans and take down the cardboard.

"Okay." Ingrid claps her hands together. "Another picture. Go on."

"Ingrid," You groan," Do I have to?"

"Yes," She laughs," Go on. I'm waiting."

You begrudgingly stand in front of it but can't keep the smile off your face.

Mapi notices a change in you the following days. You've relaxed considerably in the house now. You try harder at your schoolwork, pulling your grades up to heights that Mapi could never even dream of. You're more social than ever - though you never go anywhere without your sketchbook.

The team seem pretty entranced by you as well, demanding to meet the artist that Ingrid and Mapi found to do all the murals. You've been making bank from them, drawing portraits and making paintings.

You seem happier now, less hostile than before and Mapi can get the tiniest of glimpses into how you and Ingrid used to interact just by the way you hang out now.

Ingrid's arm easily rests upon your shoulders and Norwegian is a lot more common in the house now. You happily stick to her side and proudly show her your grades when they get released.

There's no indication that you're holding something in until Mapi comes home to frosty indifference between you and your sister.

You're stewing at the kitchen table, scrawling some kind of angry swirls in your sketchpad that you're still managing to make look artistic while Ingrid is muttering angrily under her breath as she talks on the phone.

You keep throwing glares over at her before scratching your pencil across your page again.

"Hey," Mapi says," What's going on?"

You scoff. "I don't know. Why don't you ask golden child, Ingrid? Perfect, perfect Ingrid." Your tone is vicious and mean and Ingrid looks over at you to glare. You sneer back at her before standing up and going to your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

"What's up with her?"

Ingrid sighs, saying goodbye to whoever's on the phone. "I don't know," She says," I just came in and we had an argument."

"About what? She's done her homework, right?"

"Mum and Dad," Ingrid replies," She thinks they're showing favouritism again."

Mapi holds her tongue. She knows that Ingrid thinks the world of your parents and it's clear you're fairly disillusioned with them. Mapi knows that there are definitely hints of favouritism from when she's seen all of you interact with each other but she's not too sure if it's her place to speak up about it.

"I mean," Ingrid scoffs," They're talking about bringing her home now that her grades are going open. I think my brother said that they're willing to let her keep art as a hobby. They'll pay for all the supplies she wants so long as she gets a good degree."

Mapi sighs and darts her eyes away. "Ingrid..." She says finally.

"What? Mapi? What is it?"

"Nothing..."

"No, tell me."

"I don't think she would be happy going home," Mapi says eventually," I know you love your parents but...You have to admit they have high expectations-"

"Because they love us."

"Yes, I know but..." Mapi's eyes linger on your closed door. "Have you ever thought that she might not want to leave?" She bites at her lip, wary if she should say what she's going to say next. "Maybe the distance from your parents is what she needs. You have to admit, Ingrid, your parents aren't the nicest about her passions. You saw her when she was doing that mural. You know that this is what she wants to do with her life."

Ingrid looks at your door too. "I know," She says," But Mum and Dad really want her to come home. They think maybe law school."

"And what do you think? Do you think she would enjoy being in law school? Do you?"

"No." Ingrid can't stop staring at the closed door. "But...What about her friends? Maybe if she goes back to Norway, she can see them again."

"No offense, but your sister is the biggest lone wolf I've ever met. She's happy here, with us. She's more supported than she's ever been before. You need to put your foot down. She stays with us."

Ingrid sighs, looking at her phone screen. Your parents are calling again and she angrily swipes to reject the call.

She knocks on your door.

"Hey, can I come in?" She asks," I think we need to have a little chat."

There's no answer.

"Come on," She says," It's not a bad talk. We can get sushi after."

There's still no answer.

"I'm coming in," Ingrid warns," So if you're shirtless or something, cover up."

She pushes the door open, expecting to find you at your desk with your chunky headphones on but she finds nothing of the sight. The room is completely empty and Ingrid shoves her head out of your open window to spy the drainpipe that you've clearly climbed down.

"You already talk? That was quick," Mapi says as Ingrid comes back into the living room," Are we getting sushi already? 'Cause I would kill for some sushi right about now."

"Get the keys," Ingrid says," She's left out the window."

"Down the drainpipe?" Mapi asks," Damn, I only taught her how to do that for emergencies."

Ingrid sighs deeply, massaging her head with her hand. She'd deal with the clear bad influence Mapi has on you later as she whips out her phone to track your location.

You've made good progress from the time that you stormed into your room to now, making it pretty far across the city to the more rundown side of town that Ingrid knows for a fact has boarded up buildings from when businesses had to close during covid.

Mapi drives them down to some kind of packing warehouse that looks like had been broken into long before you came to stay. It's completely filthy and Ingrid just hopes that there are no squatters to contend with.

She finds you pretty quickly on the second floor. You've curled yourself into the corner on the floor, with tears streaming down your face.

Opposite you, is another mural.

It's a heartbreaking sight.

Yet again, your work is picture-perfect and, somehow, that makes it even worse.

In the background is a little girl. She's got her hands pressed up against a window, peering in. The foreground is dominated by a family. Most of their faces are made up of angry black and red swirls. Only one other person has a face.

It's clear who it is and Ingrid sits down next to you.

You don't say anything to her. You just move to lean against her. You press your head into her neck and sob.

"You're not going anywhere," She says," You're staying right here with me and Mapi."

[ask-hank]

The only stove in the hotel exploded and it'll be two weeks before anyone can come look at it. Do you have any propane grills you could recommend in the meantime? ...Preferably that sell to... Well... Hell...

@ask-vaggie

Heh heh, Why sure, what you need is the Vogner Charking Imperial. Not only will it cook a steak or burger to perfection, but propane is a clean burning fuel so you'll taste the meat and not the heat. Now let me know if Lucifer needs some propane to run the flames down there. It'll be a clean burning Hell, I tell you h'what.

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Fourteen

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

There is a very important message after the end of the chapter. I will repost it because I know not everyone reads the messages hidden within this post!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Fourteen - Picking a Fight

Content Warning: MINORS DNI!!!!! Mentions of abuse, Smut (let me know if I missed any!)

Alastor was sitting in the Doomsday District when he felt his magic surge. The demon had found a half-destroyed bench to sit upon, the metal twisted upon itself from one of his previous meltdowns. With his head in his hands, Alastor sat and contemplated the past few days - days? Or had it been weeks, months, since you kissed him in Louisiana? His sense of time had no meaning anymore. 

“Hello, old pal,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. 

Vox stood before the Radio Demon, a slick smile on his face as he surveyed the mess with which he had found him in. That was satisfaction enough for the media demon. 

Alastor ran his hands through his hair - not to fix it, but to relieve the anger itching beneath his skin. Jumping right from helplessness to anger - he was so easily riled up these days, finding it harder and harder to contain his wrath. He had thought ripping up the Doomsday District would somehow help relieve that, like a slow release of propane from a gas tank about to be set on fire but it hadn’t. He should know better, the last time you had a hold on his emotions he tried the same thing, but to no avail.

“I am not in the mood for one of our little quips today. Go on home -“

And then he felt it. The magic beneath his skin surged, his green aura pulsed, only, it wasn’t his magic which emanated from his skin. 

It was blue. It was your magic. 

Alarm sparked panic in his chest. This wasn’t a coincidence. 

“Yeah, I thought you’d say something like that,” Vox continued, completely unaware of the magic surging through Alastor’s veins. 

It smelled of Jasmine.

Fuck.

The media demon flips his phone around to show a picture of you, unconscious and tied to a chair. Vox smirked at the realization growing on Alastor’s face. 

He didn’t know it at the time, but Velvette had constructed two false images, including one of you. 

“Checkmate,” Vox gloated. “This is how this is going to go-“ 

Before Vox had a chance to complete his rehearsed speech, Alastor had exploded in a wave of rage - a ball of living fire - except these flames were blue. 

____________________________________________

For Alastor, everything changed the second you broke that seal. In that moment, he felt how much power you had. It radiated deep within his bones - even his soul felt it. 

You carried a power so potent even Zestial would cower at your feet and - as much as Alastor hated to admit it - even he found himself unnerved around the original Overlord. 

Roo. Here you were right in front of him the whole time. Raw power, hidden behind perfect teeth and red lips. 

All he had to do was reach out and take it. 

And then you leaned over him, had the audacity to leave yourself open. Alastor felt his body move before his mind did, his fingers itching for the handle of Velvette’s blade. 

For you, you had proven you would do whatever it takes for power - Hell, you killed Eve for it. And now you had to live with the consequences. Alastor? He hadn’t crossed that line yet - he had no memories of guilt which screamed “No stop! Don’t do this!” 

He had the memories of you, however. 

Of annoyance.

Of desire. 

Of lust. 

Of fear. 

Of worry. 

Of happiness. 

Emotions Alastor had not felt in such a long time… 

So, why was it so easy to palm that blade and stab it straight into your belly? 

Because Alastor was hungry. Like the cannibalistic murderer he is, Alastor has been chasing power long before he died - even so far as selling his soul for a drop more. And when you broke that seal and gave him but a taste of what ran through your veins, it pushed him past hungry, past starvation, the demon was dying and you were the only source of food for miles. 

It blinded him - the power consumed his mind completely, directing him towards one prerogative - kill.

You expected this. Why? Because you did the same to Eve. Because you saw it in your father’s eyes every time he beat you. 

The allure of power drowns its victim like a ship at sea in a storm. 

You’ve seen that barely contained anger in Al before. The warning signs have always been there. How he tried to hold himself back when he’s around you, his demonic form slipping in and out when he sees something that he wants. 

It wasn’t Alastor who sank that blade into your belly - it was the hunger for power, the Radio Demon within. 

After all, who hasn’t been tempted by power and chaos? 

“Absolutely beautiful,” Alastor had said. 

Absolutely beautiful…

Absolutely beautiful? 

Was he talking about you or the power…?

You broke the kiss. “Ha!” You laughed, the steel hilt deep in your belly. You didn’t even move, didn’t even flinch when Alastor stabbed you. “Oh, Mr. Alastor,” you sang, running your fingers through his bangs.

The demon sat back in his chair, absolutely confused. You’d die of shock seeing such an emotion on his face if you weren’t in the current situation the two of you had unfortunately found yourselves in. 

How did Alastor phrase your deal? “A mutual agreement. We stay out of each other’s way, yet seek out the other when we can benefit equally.” 

It was a verbal contract - not a written one. So, technically, the exact details weren’t drawn out. The magic was privy to the contractees’ interpretations, and magic works in funny ways.

Remember the dream the night you had your midnight meeting? Remember how Alastor attacked you and you defended yourself with your flames? Remember how it burned his clothes but didn’t hurt him.

That’s where it all began.

Anytime you had summoned your magic or Alastor had summoned his, it not only didn’t hurt you, but it empowered you. 

You have stood in his static, have been enshrouded in his magic, and yet you came out unscathed. So why should a blade in his hand, hurt you? How was that any different? 

You took the greatest gamble of your life, leaning over Alastor while he sat in that chair, allowing yourself to be vulnerable, knowing that there was a possibility that he could actually kill you. But you’re deal - it wasn’t just a quid-pro-quo, you help me out, I help you out. No, it was more than that…

… Alastor couldn’t harm you. 

Which meant he couldn’t kill you. 

And so you took the gamble. 

You smirked, knowing your red lips did nothing but taunt the demon, “Quid-pro-quo,” You laughed. Grasping the blade, you slid it easily from your belly. You showed him the steel, absent of your blood. At most, the blade merely ripped your leather.

You laugh, “You shook on it.” 

A huge fucking gamble, and it had paid off. 

You take the blade and stab it directly into his right thigh. The demon didn’t even feel it. Batting your eyelashes, you turn your head like you sometimes see him do when asking a question, “Remember?” 

Confusion turns to anger. And for the first time, you are met with a full-fledged Alastor in demonic form. The demon rips the blade from his leg and growls, his ears flattened against his head in irritation. 

Oh, you were about to get the fight you have been dying for. 

A tentacle wraps itself around your middle and flings you backward across the dirt. Landing on your back, you quickly jump to your feet, preparing for a possible second attack. 

Alastor slowly rises from his chair, the knife slipping into his Void, and summons his microphone. He slams the cane against the ground, green sparks exploding from where it makes contact with the dirt before black tentacles emerge from his back.

The demon smiles, his lips threaded with green stitching. His sclera turn black, his antlers elongate, and prongs multiply atop his head. A green glow surrounds the Radio Demon as his body contorts in a series of cracks. Then Alastor begins to grow, the power with which he has gathered now physically represented by his size.  

“Ha, ha, ha,” the demon chuckles, his laugh echoing as if through a broken radio. “Let’s begin.”

And then his tentacles lunge, the black tendrils encased in Alastor’s green static. You spin, taking flight. You fly right past the demon, weaving through his flurry of tentacles as you head for Pentagram City. 

Alastor is hot on your tail the entire time, and just as you reach the edge, a tentacle wraps itself around your leg and flings you into a nearby abandoned building. Brick and metal come crashing down upon you as the building collapses, pinning you beneath it. 

But it doesn’t slow you down. Summoning your blue flame, you set the rubble alight, and, like a newborn phoenix, you rise from the ashes. Only to be attacked by an army of… shadow demons? 

Tiny doll-like creatures sewn together from black fabric lunge for your feet. Pulling your sword from the Void, you strike, but the blade does not cut them. Instead, they merely bounce off, like a ball hitting a baseball bat. 

What the fuck are these things!? 

One jumps for your leg, giggling as it attempts to sink its teeth into your flesh. Although you know it can't hurt you, you still instinctively jump out of its reach, using your wings to gain height. Luckily, the dolls can’t fly, and you watch as they jump beneath you, their arms outstretched as they lick their lips. 

Cannibal dolls? 

A growl warns you of Alastor’s next attack. You look up fast enough to see a literal car crash into you, the horn breaking as it slams into you. You land, the crumbled car crushing you as you roll down the street. Your wings take most of the impact, shielding your skin from the asphalt. Coming to a stop, you push yourself to your feet, the magic of the Book of Knowledge still surging through your veins. Standing, you face a demonic Alastor, his tentacles, as if legs, running down the street straight for you. 

He’s made himself a target, blind with rage, drunk on the pursuit of power. It would be all too easy to summon the power you stole from Eve and turn it against the Radio Demon. You had never used it before, but there was no time like the present to learn. 

Yet, as you stood, watching Alastor barrel straight for you, you hesitated. 

No. Not because you couldn’t technically hurt him, but because you didn’t want to even try. Something within your chest twisted, stopping you. 

You’ve been keening for a fight with him, but… but you couldn’t do it. 

Instead, you stood your ground, focusing on the magic thrumming through your veins, and forced the power from the Book of Knowledge back behind its lock. The words disappeared from your skin as Alastor raised his staff. 

A clang rang out as metal hit metal, your sword against his microphone. The demon was relentless, his strikes never letting up as he backed you down the street. All you could do was block, your heart not having it in you to strike back. Screams rang out as Sinners finally understood what was going on and fled in fear. 

A crazed look in his eye, the demon continued to hack, his strikes sloppy, his weight thrown into every thrust. Technique-wise, he was no match for a skilled warrior such as yourself. You could have easily had him on his ass if you wanted to - but you didn’t. 

A tentacle wrapped around your ankle, and as Alastor swiped at you with his staff, he pulled. You landed face first, a smack against concrete, rolling just in time to dodge the blow which was aimed directly at your face. As you rolled, you climbed to your feet and flung yourself out of reach of his next physical attack in one big beat of your wings. 

The demon threw his microphone forward, just as he had done every time his tentacles came soaring for you. You readied yourself, prepared for the attack, but his tentacles remained still. The demon looked confused, so he did it again, but again, nothing happened. 

He looked at his feet. 

Oh, he wasn’t trying to attack you with his tentacles but with his shadow. The demon was commanding Rolf to attack you. 

The shadow swirled at his feet, and frowned. Rolf actually frowned and then shook his head in refusal. 

Ooooohh, and Alastor was not happy about that. 

“Aaaaah!” The Radio Demon screamed as he slammed his staff down. 

The ground cracked and broke in half, creating a chasm beneath your feet. You jumped just in time, but not fast enough to miss the Hellfire that was released from the earth. The green flames consumed you as you flew skyward, but, like all of Alastor’s other attacks, it did nothing to you. Soaring, you stopped as you reached the rooftops and got a better understanding of where you were. 

You were on the edge of the Magne District and the Bordertown - in other words, you were blocks away from Alastor’s radio tower. As you caught sight of the iron structure, you felt that thing twist in your chest again. So many memories…

Again, the demon went after you, his tentacles propelling him to the rooftop of the building you soared over. His eye twitched, his smile constrained. And as he sent the next round of attacks your way, you felt your will to fight begin to fade. You didn’t dodge as quickly. You didn’t fly with as much vigor. 

He wasn’t going to stop. Alastor wasn’t going to stop…

You’re not sure why you did it; perhaps some part of you was still holding on, but you led him right to the radio tower. 

Landing on the balcony, you slipped your sword into the Void and waited as Alastor made his way up. The demon came to a stop at the other end of the landing, the lights of Pentagram City your backdrop. You put your wings away, your demon form slipping from you until you were just standing in your ripped leather gear. 

There was a gleam in Alastor’s eye as he surveyed you. He thought he had you. God, he looked absolutely mad. You dodged as he swung, staying easily out of his reach as if it were a training exercise. Jesus, you could do this but not dance? 

You looked into his eyes as he attacked you, seeing nothing but steel, a raging fire that had consumed him completely.

And that’s when you realized… Despite the contract you had made ensuring your safety, Alastor was still trying to kill you. 

And your heart shattered. Your steps faltered, giving Alastor the opportunity to knock you to the ground. You didn’t even try to fight him as he climbed atop you, straddling your waist. The demon pulled Velvette’s blade from the Void, forgoing his microphone completely. 

And you let him. 

The Radio Demon held the edge to your throat, his entire body seething in anger and frustration at the object of all of his desires just out of reach. So close, yet so far. 

“You want this more than you want me…” You whispered. 

His mask slipped ever so slightly, his movements freezing as you spoke. 

You gritted your teeth, “Fine. Alastor. You want it so badly, enough to kill me for it, then take it. Fucking, take it.”

You were so stupid. How could you think Alastor would be any different? Everyone in your life you’ve ever cared about ends up disappointing you…

“Alastor Hartfelt, I, Mikaela Morningstar, release you from our contract.”

SNAP!

The connection between you was severed. 

And almost immediately, you felt warmth on your neck, the edge of the blade digging into your flesh just enough to draw golden blood. Alastor’s eyes were instantly drawn to it. The demon gasped. Something behind his gaze shifted at the realization of what you had just done. 

“... And that’s when I decided she was not worthy of your death,” you repeated the words Alastor spoke to you after he saved you from Vox and Velvette, a moment in time when your death had nearly broken him. “No one was. If anyone was going to draw your last breath from these lips, it was going to be me.”

The demon met your gaze, his crazed smile faltering, the fire in his eyes sputtering. 

“Make do on that promise, Radio Demon.” Your voice cracked as the tears streamed down the corners of your eyes. “You’d be doing me a fucking favor.”

A favor… because you’d rather be dead than live with the fact that Alastor would kill you for something so trivial as power. 

He made you care about him. The way he rescued you from Velvette and Vox, how he dotted over you as you healed. He was killing himself with worry when you collapsed the second time. He made jambalaya from his mother’s recipe and spent hours sitting with you on this balcony, watching the City lights. He was worried when you didn’t eat, running straight to you when he heard. He kissed you as it rained, whispering promises in your ear. The demon danced with you in Mardi Gras, bought you a fucking donut, for crying out loud, and told you things about his mother that he never told anyone else. 

Alastor made you fucking care about him, and now he was ripping out your heart and stabbing it with an Angelic blade - literally and metaphorically.

So yes, he’d be doing you a fucking favor because Alastor was killing you either way - slitting your throat was just the much less painful option. 

You closed your eyes and waited for death… 

You had taken so many lives, and yet you had never thought about your own. You never imagined how you might die because, up until recently, you didn’t know you could. 

God, you didn’t know death could be this fucking painful. 

Yet, you welcomed it. There was no afterlife for you to look forward to, which was a blessing. You didn’t have to live with this weight anymore, this burden of existence, of the trauma and torture you have been put through. Finally, you could just cease to be… 

____________________________________________

The moment the golden blood trickled from your neck, Alastor’s mind flashed to the night you killed Val.

The demon had stalked you from the shadows, having heard the explosion all the way from the Doomsday District. He watched from the darkness as you burned Valentino from the inside out, absolutely mesmerized. 

And then Velvette ran her blade across your chest, and golden liquid spewed from the wound onto the concrete. Alastor had never moved so fast in his life. In a blur, he summoned a tentacle and threw a car at Velvette and Vox, stopping them only momentarily but long enough. Then he was at your feet.

SNAP! The golden liquid disappeared, and Ralph shadowed you to the Nothing.

Alastor’s heart rammed so hard against his chest he could hear nothing else, think nothing else as he collected you in his arms. The Radio Demon had never really known true fear before, even as he died he wasn’t afraid. Such a foreign feeling… He didn’t know how to process it. It left his mind blank, his lungs devoid of air, his body aimless as he forced himself to move. 

And then you were on his bed, your golden blood pouring into his red satin sheets. Rolf acted on his own, immediately taking off for Cannibal Town without Alastor even having to command him. The demon collapsed to his knees at the edge of the bed, forcing his claws to untie the dark cloak around your neck, but his damn fingers wouldn’t work! He was shaking so much…

“Oh, my stars!” Rosie melted from the floor, curlers in her hair and wrapped in a pink bathrobe. “Alastor, what is…” She caught sight of you on the bed and the Overlord in full panic next to you. 

Alastor turned to her, desperation swimming in his eyes as he managed to utter two words, “Help me.”

____________________________________________

“Alastor,” Rosie set a steaming cup of tea before him - chai - but Alastor didn’t move to drink it. He couldn’t even pick up the cup. It reminded him too much of the coffee you made him, how you flavored it with chai leaves. It reminded him too much of you. Of the beautiful woman held together by nothing but thread in the next room.

Rosie lay a hand on his arm, moving slowly so as not to startle the demon. He had calmed down immensely but was still shaken up. “Tell me what happened.”

“She went after Valentino,” He swallowed dryly. 

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I’m asking. I can see the destruction of the Tower from your window. I’m asking what happened to you. I’ve never seen you like that before.” The demon prodded carefully. 

Rosie had asked about you before - attempting to pry information from Alastor. It’s not that she was spying on you. She didn’t need to do that. You told her everything. She wanted to know what Alastor thought of you. A matchmaker from the very beginning - from the moment you stepped foot into her Emporium and ran right into Alastor. 

Alastor looked down at the cup, the leaves of tea swimming around the steaming liquid. “I don’t know. All I know is… It hurt… I hurt…” 

Rosie cooed, “And why do you think that is?”

Alastor was speechless. Nothing coming to mind. He honestly didn’t understand what was happening to him. Why he was feeling the way that he was feeling. He’s never felt so utterly helpless and honestly couldn’t understand why. 

“Darling, let me ask you, cannibal to cannibal, what is the most important organ in the body?” Rosie smiled, her teeth wickedly sharp. 

Of course, Alastor picked the brain - so iconic and representative of his character. 

Rosie giggled. “Oh no, I think my late husband is evidence enough of that. No, dear, it’s the heart. Something so vital that keeps us alive, and yet one tiny little nick and you bleed out and die. And dying hurts, let me tell you.” She shrugged, sipping her tea. 

Rosie let Alastor stew on this for a moment before clearly spelling it out for the Overlord. “You are hurting because the Vees went after your heart.”

____________________________________________

CLANG! 

Your eyes fluttered open to find Alastor looking back at you, tears in eyes of his own. His chin trembled as he cupped your cheeks. Alastor had dropped the blade, the steel clattering between the cracks in the balcony flooring before falling to the street below. 

The demon’s forehead came to rest on your own as his demonic form receded, his green aura fading. “... a drop more might break me.” His voice shook, his words absent of his radio static, his Louisiana accent slipping through. “Rarely am I wrong about something.” He chuckled through a sob. “I just didn’t think it would be by my hand.”

“Alastor…?” You searched his eyes for an explanation. 

“My darling.” A breath. “Ma cherie.” Another. “Mon couer.” Another. “My heart.” 

Alastor’s eyes were glassy. “One cannot live without their heart.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Was he saying what you think he was saying? 

“You choose me?” You asked, hope sparking in your chest. 

The demon smiles softly. “I choose you, mon couer. I choose you…” 

You smiled as you grabbed Alastor by his shirt and pulled him in. Your mouths crashed together.

You can taste the relief on his lips, the solace evident with each swipe of his tongue. Finally, you could allow yourself to simply enjoy the taste of him. Finally, you could simply not think and only feel - no longer weighed down by the troubles plaguing your mind every time he grew close to you.

He knew your name.

He knew your secret.

He knew your power.

He knew everything.

And he had chosen you.

Nothing held the two of you back now, not emotionally or physically.

Alastor broke the kiss, already panting, his chest heaving as it matched yours, “How are your injuries?” His eyes roamed you, searching for active bleeding.

You smirked, “I’m in perfect health thanks to you,” you pulled the collar of your leather gear aside to reveal the injury Velvette gave you, the skin now pink and scarred over.

Alastor ran a finger across the mark, making you shiver beneath him. 

You had much to figure out today, but it could wait. 

The demon smiled, “Good,” he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I believe I made some promises to you that I intend to keep.” 

Alastor dipped lower, and you gasped as his tongue connected with your skin. Alastor traced the outline of the cut on your neck. His forked tongue lapped the golden liquid, not letting a single drop escape. When his lips were wet and sweet with your blood, he leaned back far enough only for you to see his eyes, his pupils blown, “You’re mine,” he breathed. 

Your body shuddered in what might have been a sob, a cry in joy as his lips found yours. 

Finally. Fucking, finally. 

You expected the kiss to be gentle - soft - a kiss that could take its time. After all, you had plenty of that now. But Alastor had warned you - he was not gentle. You moaned into his mouth, the iron tang of your blood on your lips as he crashed into you. The kiss was powerful, threatening to drown you in him completely.

The demon scooped you up in one fluid motion before you were shadowed into his bedroom and placed on red silk sheets.     

The demon had his jacket off, never breaking your connection, before crawling up on you. The demon pushed you back, laying you out on the platter of red, his own personal feast. He pressed himself into you, one leg between your thighs, and you instinctively arched as his warmth soaked into your bones, as he hardened against you. 

Alastor broke the kiss to run his tongue up your cheek, licking the golden liquid that had bled from your now-healed cheek. The demon moaned, his dick throbbing in his pants in response. You took the opportunity to find the buttons of his red suit jacket, popping open the three buttons before diving into the ones on his collared shirt. 

There was something so intimate about undressing him. You could - if you had wanted to - magicked the clothes away, but where was the fun in that? There were layers to Alastor’s outfit, layers you wanted to peel back one by one; it was a privilege to do so. In a way, you felt like you had earned that privilege, and you were going to take advantage of every moment of it. 

Al pulled back, surveying your face. He ran a hand through your silver locks as they splayed out across his sheets, pushing it aside from your neck where bruises once decorated your skin. His eyes lit up, almost as if they were screaming, mine, all mine, before his lips found your neck. 

Oh, if you thought his kisses were intense before, it was nothing compared to now. Alastor held nothing back, his canines nipping at your skin till he drew blood. The pain was a beautiful burn that made your head dizzy. His tongue licked away the gold, soothing the erotic pain pooling in your core. You gasped as his hands found your hips and tugged.

He wanted your clothes off. 

SNAP!

Your leathers disappeared, leaving behind nothing but your bra and underwear. The armor didn’t have zippers or ties, it wasn’t meant to be slipped on and off, but you wanted Alastor to undress you. You wanted to feel his claws as they scraped across your skin and slid your underwear down your legs…

Alastors hand found the waistband of your underwear. The demon chuckled against your neck, after stealing a glance. “Such a naughty little thing.”

You may have changed into your favorite pair of undergarments, a dangerous matching set of silk. All in red, just for him. 

Alastor bit your neck, hard, not a full on bite, but a nibble that made you gasp. You arched up into him, his knee between your thighs. With one hand thrusted into your hair, the other went to your bra, to cup the swell of your breast. 

The demon had perfectly sized hands, your breasts a matching handful. You cried out as he squeezed. Goosebumps rise on your skin as the demon’s mouth travels south, his lips trailing to the swell of your breasts. His claws scraped across your skin, finding the strap of the garment and slowly lowered it over your shoulder. You arched, prompting him to slide both hands behind your back as he smiled up at you, his eyes promising to do terribly wonderful things to you. 

Then your bra was off, and his mouth was on your breast, and he sucked, his tongue flicking your nipple. You plunged your fingers into his hair, wrapping them around his locks. Your finger lightly brushed his ears, and the demon growled, his mouth on your breast, his hips bucking instinctively. 

Alastor pulled back despite your bark of protest - that turned into a gasp as the demon backed off the bed, wrapped his arms around your hips, and tugged. He yanked you to the edge before violently ripping off your underwear. 

Your cheeks heated as Alastor kneels before you, his face mere inches from your heat as he hooks your legs over his shoulders.

He was kneeling. The all and powerful Alastor Hartfelt was on his knees for you. No one would ever believe you…

And then he sinks two fingers inside you, all the way up to his first knuckle. You cry out, your breath stuck in your throat as your nails dig into his sheets. He slides his fingers out slowly, then shoves in hard again, practically pushing you back up the bed. 

“Oh, my - Al!” 

Alastor cuts you off with his mouth, his tongue licking your clit and setting you on fire. Instinctively, your toes curl, and your body pulls in on itself, but Alastor’s claw digs into the meat of your hip, keeping you spread open as he thrusts his fingers in again, his mouth feasting on your juices. 

Digging your nails in tighter, you swear you rip the fabric, trying to hold on. 

The demon chuckles as your next gasp turns into a moan. God, it was like Alastor was punishing you, dominating you, a relentless force pent on overpowering you in every sense of the word. 

You swore you'd never bow before another again, never let another command you, but for Alastor, you'd gladly fall to your knees if he asked.

The pressure was starting to build. Fuck, the last time this happened, you leveled a building.

“Alastor,” you choked out.   

But the demon didn’t stop, didn’t even come up for air. Alastor pulls his fingers almost all the way out before thrusting them fully in. 

“Al-”

The demon glares at you, a gleam in his eye. He wanted to push you over the edge and was not going to stop, no matter what. 

Shit. Shit. Shit!

He picks up the pace, his fingers constantly roaming in and out, his mouth working in tandem quickly working you up towards your climax.

Your head is gone now, your breathes in gasps with each pump of his fingers, each swipe of his tongue. The demon bites down on your clit between his upper teeth and lower lip. A wave of pain has you teetering.

“Al!” You scream as, on the last thrust, Alastor curls his fingers, hitting that wonderful bundle of nerves that has you flying over the edge. You arch up as spasms overcome your body, as Alastor continues to pump and continues to ride you through your high.

Be damned if you burned this place to the ground. It was worth it.

Your inner walls clench around his fingers, your entire body tensing up. Heat floods through you as you pant, breathless and dizzy. 

Alastor doesn’t stop until your back finds the sheets again, until your twitching has slowed, and your breathing has normalized. 

This entire thing feels like a dream as Alastor stands, untucks his shirt, and takes off his belt. 

“No,” you squeak out, your body and mind numb with pleasure.

Alastor freezes.

“I want to,” you practically beg, reaching out a hand. 

The demon chuckles, his face in his hands. 

Wait. 

You sit up, your mind sobering as you whip your gaze across the room. “It’s not on fire?” 

Alastor’s smile kicks up in a sideways grin, “It’s not.”

You shoot him a questioning look. You don’t know how this is happening, but you know Alastor had something to do with it. A rune? Some sort of mark in his Voodoo? 

The demon answers your question with a chuckle as he climbs atop you. Alastor’s arms frame your face, his smile lighting up yours as he towers over you. His locks were like a halo of red around his face, his antlers a few prongs larger than you remember. 

You’re so captivated by a half shirtless Alastor towering over you that you completely forget what you were supposed to do.

He pauses, his breath hot on your lips, “well?”

Well? Oh! Yes. 

Hesitantly, your fingers find his belt as you continue what he had started. Your heart is ramming against your chest, your hands suddenly very sweaty. Get it together. He’s made you orgasm twice now. You’re sitting beneath him, in his bed, wearing nothing. Why were you so nervous? 

You paused at the button of his pants. 

“Al, I… I’ve never…” You met his gaze and hoped your eyes communicated the rest of what you were trying to say. 

His cheeks turned pink, “We move at your pace, mon couer.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He was giving you time for your mind to catch up with the rest of you. 

First, thing’s first…

You force your fingers to move again and help him slide his shirt off. And then you don’t want to stop touching him. Alastor was so soft, the short fur along his torso and arms like the down coat of a fawn. It was longer around his chest, producing a fluff you were already making plans for. To spend your night sleeping on his chest…

You traced his scars, each old and grey, marking his beautiful ashen skin. Then you found the mark over his chest, the run of Transformare just over his heart. You traced the outline of it. 

“My favorite one,” he smiled. 

And that gave you the bravery to continue on. You shot up, your lips crashing into his as your fingers undid the button of his pants and began to tug down. Alastor laid you back out as he pulled off his pants and underwear in one swoop. 

You gasped as the demon pressed onto you, his cock perfectly lining up with your folds. The demon ground his hips against you, coating his shaft in your juices, hitting your throbbing clit. Your mouth went dry at the sheer size of him. You wanted him, wanted every glorious inch of him in you.  

And then you're drowning again as he kisses you, his thrusts harder and faster as he grinds atop you, Alastor the ocean wave which was pulling you deeper and deeper. And you gladly drowned. He rocks back on his hips, stealing the heat of his cock before he lines himself up, his tip pressing against your opening, and pauses. 

He was waiting for you. 

In response, you wrapped your legs around his thin waist. They sat perfectly at the crest of his hips, almost as if they were made for you, for this. The demon growled as you kissed him, and you laughed.

And then he slid in. And in. And in. Until his hips were flush with yours. Your nails dug into the muscle of his back, making the demon growl. 

Jesus, he had your eyes watering; it was like your body forgot how to breathe. He stilled, letting you adjust.     

“Are you alright?” Alastor was out of breath, his voice raspy and absent of static, as his forehead found yours, clearly bombarded with the same wave of emotions you had been. 

You nod as you pull him down on top of you. You wanted to feel Alastor, to feel his warmth, to feel his chest heaving against yours, to feel the muscles in his abbs as he thrusts into you. You have been starved for touch for so long that you have become desperate - desperate and greedy. 

The demon moved slowly, pulling out slightly before pressing back in. His hips stuttered, “Satan,” he choked. “You’re tight.”

Again, he pulled back, then thrust in. The demon fisted one hand in your hair, the other coming to rest behind your thigh, giving himself leverage as he moved. 

And as Alastor moved, his forehead on yours as you kissed, your breath building as you huffed through your noses, it became easier. It became pleasurable. It became faster, deeper. 

It made you hungry for more.

“Fuck me,” you breathe between moans. “Fuck me, Alastor.”

A fire sparks in his eyes as his hands sink to your ass. The demon has your legs wrapped around him, and off the bed, your back pressed against the wood head rest as he fills you. Every inch, every hard ridge. Alastor’s teeth find your bottom lip, and he bites down as he slams into you with enough force, that the bed shakes. 

Your moan is on the edge of a scream as blood fills your mouth. Alastor’s tongue laps at your lips, at your tongue, devouring the tangy liquid flooding your mouth and dribbling down your chin. The cannibal is determined not to waste a single drop as he feasts. You wrap your arms around his neck and hang on for dear life, your nails digging into his skin, just exciting him even more. 

There is nothing gentle about the Radio Demon - no wonder he wanted to wait, no wonder he held himself back all those nights ago. He surely would have split you in two had you begged him to try.  

But it would have been so worth it. 

Your veins sang beneath your skin with the build of your climax, your heart beating in time with Alastor’s. 

The demon released a hand to find your clit, circling as he thrusts. Immediately, you’re toeing the edge, your moans choked screams, as Alastor picks up the pace, sweat licking your bodies. 

Alastor’s claws dig into the meat of your hip as pulls you down on him with every thrust, as he buries himself over and over again, the tip of his cock brushing the entrance of your cervix. You’re there, you’re at the edge…

“I’m close!” You breathe, every edge of you burning with pleasure. You’re so wet, you’re dripping down his balls as he sinks into you. 

Not yet. No. You want to linger. You want to savor this. Every second of it. 

And then Alastor’s lips find your neck, and he bites. The pain sends you over the edge, and you scream as the orgasm tears through your body. Alastor continues to pound into you, hard and fast, drawing out your pleasure. The demon grows harder, more frenzied with his movements, and then he’s roaring as he slams into you to the hilt, spilling inside you. 

Alastor growls as his dick throbs against your clenching inner walls, milking him of every last drop. And then Alastor slows as he collapses into you, his head resting on your shoulder as he slowly thrusts in and out, his body spasming with pleasure.

And then there is silence, interrupted only by your panting breaths. 

When your souls finally return to your bodies, you take Alastor’s face in yours. The dreamy, drunk look on his face has your heart soaring. No one has ever seen Alastor like that. You’ve earned the privilege to see him like this.  

Alastor rocks in and out of you in slow, languid thrusts, like he’s savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

“Mon couer,” he breathes before he kisses you, long and slow. 

You giggle, just as high as him, “mine.”

The demon freezes, giving you a look as if he didn’t hear you right. 

“I choose you, too, Alastor. You’re mine.” You beam before kissing him. His mouth is unmoving for a second before he kisses you back. The demon digs his hips into you, sinking his head in till it hits your cervix - you swear to God!

The demon lays you back down on the bed.

“I’m yours,” he smiles against your lips, and then he swallows your gasp as he thrusts again. “I’m yours, mon couer, only yours.” 

Alastor’s mouth trails down your jaw, across the bruises forming on your throat. You moan when his tongue finds the bite, the mark he used to claim you, the soreness that now represents everything. The demon uses his tongue to outline the mark, the golden blood now clotting. 

With the taste of you on his lips, the demon was growing hard again, his dick throbbing inside of you as he stroked slowly. 

This time is different. This time Alastor is slow, his fingers bunching in your hair but not tearing, his lips kissing you deeply, his mouth drunk on your taste. You breathed Alastor in as your tongue lazily played with his, as your hips moved in time with his strokes. 

This wasn’t just him claiming you. This was Alastor promising you. This was him pledging to be yours and only yours, to be all the things he was scared of being, to devote his very being in honor of you. 

And you could feel it. You could feel his growing desire. It wasn’t just in the pounding of his heart or the way his breath quickened as it mixed with yours but somehow sank into your bones. 

If your magic could be summoned as it had whenever Alastor’s lips were on yours, the colors of your magic would be singing right now. Their masterpiece a demonstration of the vow he was making you. 

You let your hands wander over every hard ridge of him. Outlining his pecs, the defined abbs on his torso, the strength in his shoulders. To his cut jawline and soft hair. You played with his locks as Alastor continued to thrust in you, your quick breaths turning to moans. 

It was slow, it was passionate, it was intense. 

Alastor breaks the kiss to decorate your neck, marking his territory, the bruises proof that this was real. Your gaze falls to where the two of you are connected, his shaft pulling away with both of your juices, turning his dick white with cum.

Oh, God the way he filled you with his cum…

You clench around him at the memory of the feeling, making the demon’s hips stutter, eliciting a growl that vibrates from his chest through yours. 

You can’t help but smile as you kiss him. The power you had over him, over his body…

Alastor responds by thrusting harder. 

CRACK! 

The bed breaks, and the next thing you know, the two of you are rolling off the side. Alastor takes the brunt of the fall, pulling you into him as his back smacks against the wooden floor. 

“Al, are you -?” 

The demon interrupts your question with a laugh. It was so genuine and absent of his usual radio static that it catches you off guard before you’re laughing right along with him. 

And then the two of you realize something: you were on top. 

You blink at each other a moment, registering what this means, but Alastor doesn’t make an attempt to move you. Instead, he grabs your hips and guides you up and down his cock. It’s awkward at first - you’ve literally never done this before - but you eventually find a rhythm that has the two of you moaning all over again.

Regardless of the position, Alastor was still in control, which was a relief - your lack of experience was frankly embarrassing. 

You dig your fingers into his fluff, using it as leverage as you bounce up and down. You can feel the wetness pooling out of you and dribbling down his cock. 

From this position you could fully appreciate Alastor, disheveled and overwhelmed by you. His chest is heaving, his hips bucking up into you, deepening the muscles on his torso. 

God, it was a beautiful sight. 

The demon reaches up and wraps his fist in your hair before using it to pull your lips down to his. His claws dig into your other hip as his thrusts quicken, as he pounds into you.

And then he’s spilling into you all over again, his warm seed filling you and then sliding down his cock. The orgasm surprises you, overtaking your body without warning. 

God, the feeling of being filled was enough to drive you over the edge. 

You collapsed on Alastor, your face in the fluff of his chest as he thrust, your orgasm milking every ounce of his seed. 

And when his hips finally slowed, Alastor collapsed fully, his hands coming to rest in your hair and on your back. The two of you lay there for a long time, not minding the mess you had just made, your minds and bodies too numb to fully comprehend anything but the aftershock of pleasure. 

You breathed him in, letting his scent of forest and musk prolong your ecstasy. The room danced in the flavor of warm vanilla, evidence of what you had just done wafting out the slightly ajar back door. The curtains were down, so no one could see in. 

When Alastor somehow found the ability to move again, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Mon couer?” 

“Hmm?” You hummed, dreamily snaking your head up to meet his half-lidded gaze through your curtain of hair. You were sleepy and oh-so-content. You could fall asleep right there on the floor and sleep for days if he let you. 

“How about a bath?” As if on cue, the sound of a faucet turning creaked from the bathroom. Running water could be heard echoing through the tile walls. 

You giggled, nodding. 

Slowly, Alastor pulled out of you. You whimpered at the sudden empty feeling, the loss of warmth that was purely Alastor filling your core. It was a feeling you were instantly missing.

The demon carried you to the tub, now steaming and filled with bubbles. He gently sat you in before climbing in behind you, letting you lay against him as he washed you. 

The fluff on his chest was like a pillow as you lay there, drowning in the scent of his shampoo. It was like being on sensory overload, except the only sense was Alastor. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Alastor took his time massaging your limbs, easing the tension from your muscles. He inspected every healed cut and new scar he had never seen before until he was satisfied that you were fine and really and truly in one piece. He even took the time to wash your hair, his claws scraping against your scalp as he scrubbed. You hummed in delight, bringing a genuine smile to Alastor’s face. 

The wash was more cathartic for Alastor than it was for you. For him, he needed this. After you almost died, he needed to see you be strong again. He needed to see you at your highest before he could heal from seeing you at your lowest. And, as if to solidify it in his brain that this wasn’t a dream, and you were really and truly alive, he needed to inspect you himself - and he also did get satisfaction at seeing the new marks which he had left on your body. The slowly darkening bruises and bites he had left behind… 

The narcissist… 

When he finished with you, he washed himself. You were practically asleep when he finished - although he did do his best not to disturb you as much as he could. The demon slowly slid out from behind you to grab you a towel. It took some coaxing, but he finally got you to stand on your own as he wrapped you in the soft cotton. 

When you returned to bed, you found it perfectly made, with fresh sheets and fluffed pillows. The foot on his bed frame had snapped during your endeavors, but Alastor had it repaired while you bathed. You’d sleep soundly in a level bed tonight. 

Soft jazz clicked on as Alastor tucked you in before sliding in himself. You curled into the demon, who had crawled into bed with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, immediately seeking his warmth. 

Alastor rarely slept, but today was an exception…

With your head on his chest, your feet tangled in his, and his arms wrapped around you, you felt complete. 

And the two of you dozed off into slumber to the words of Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable.” 

Okay, Hoteliers, why did I do this? Why not have Alastor never attack Mikaela in the first place? Why didn’t he just drop the knife and kiss her, and then I write a chapter filled with some seriously overdo smut? Because there was still one thing about Alastor that had not been challenged yet - in the fanfic and in canon. Yes, Alastor had fallen for the reader, but there was still this giant thing hanging over their heads that they did not address, which needed to be hit upon in order for the two of them to finally accept their feelings for each other. What would Alastor do if something/someone he loved more than power stood in the way of him achieving it? You, as Mikaela, already made that decision when you killed Eve - you’d do anything. Yet, deep down, you knew you couldn’t do it to Alastor - you, as the reader, had decided that without me even having to write it. You were literally screaming in the comments about it as you read chapter thirteen.

Yet Alastor had never been asked that question. So we needed to see what he would do. Given the opportunity, he needed to be forced to choose, and he needed to see that that choice would have consequences. That's why I needed Alastor to stab you, to go after you, to draw blood. Why go to such lengths? Because Alastor is a stubborn, stubborn man, and changing him would not be an easy thing to do, especially when it is something so central to his character. I mean, he's a cannibalistic murderer; how much more literal does Viv need to get about his desire to consume power? Being forced to choose was not only about you but about him as well. In the writing business, we call it ~character development~.

So no, I couldn't simply have Alastor drop the knife and whisk you away into a fairytale. This moment, this part of Alastor, posed an obstacle for me: a giant wall preventing me from continuing on. I needed Alastor to grow, to unlock that part of himself that let you in, choose you over everything else, and for him to accept that.  

Don't worry, we still have more to go - they still have to learn why they are both at the Hotel, what their involvements are with Lilith, and what Mikaela’s big endgame actually is, but that stuff is trivial compared to their cannibalistic desire for power - especially considering Mikaela is Roo, the embodiment of it. I mean, that’s how this fanfic all started, right? “Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent than the one derived from fear…”  And I think it’s important to remember that because it will be a theme through to the end of this fic. 

<3 Stay smutty Hoteliers - smut is coming next chapter. You’ve earned it ;)

-> Chapter Fifteen

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages

[ozkarrzen]

I think Sci having like really weird and non-practical inventions in really funny to me. Have him lean less into general scientist and more engineer with the shit he makes/modifies.

Half of it doesn’t even work, he just has an idea, hyperfuxates on it for 4 hours and never touches it again. He’s got a partly fused together waffle iron tied to a propane tank just waiting to explode.

Sci just being like Doctor Doofenshmirtz I'm giggling I love this

[kozy4stuff]

So @gabriel-grumbletoon drew Hank Hill like. Once. And I immediately came up with this.

So here's some gift art. Gift art? It's kind of cursed. Curse art. You've been cursed.

[TRANSCRIPT:

First image: Hank Hill from King of the Hill addresses Gabriel Grumbletoon, Dilly's Toontown monkey OC, who hangs on his arm like, well, a monkey.

HANK: Gabriel, I may not know what a "Grumbletoon" is, but I think there ain't nothing to grumble about you, son.

Second image: Hank puts on a fierce look and grabs a propane tank. A large one.

HANK: Now let's teach these Gear-Heads about propane and propane accessories.

Third image: Hank hurls the propane tank at one of the cog head robot things from Toontown idk what they're called I don't play Toontown but it EXPLODES with a POOM and lights up the whole room.

Fourth image: Gabriel smiles as he watches the flames.

[blubushie]

hihihi can we get a part 2 for gun mistakes??? -leafanon

G'day leafanon!

FOR ANIMATORS/AUTHORS/ARTISTS PT. 2

SNIPERS WILL NOT STICK THE BARREL OF THEIR RIFLE OUT OF OPEN WINDOWS. Best case scenario is you’re sat in a mildly-uncomfortable chair while your spotter stands or sits next to you in an even more uncomfortable chair with a rangefinder. Before rangefinders were introduced (1990s and earlier) you were merely going off estimates (“That building is 50 yards, the next is 25, etc etc”). You never put the barrel out a window because it’d give away your position and put you AND YOUR SPOTTER in danger.

MOST MODERN SCOPES HAVE AN ANTI-GLARE COATING AND/OR A SUNSHADE TO PREVENT GIVING AWAY YOUR POSITION. This is especially useful when hunting as many animals (deer, turkeys, pigs) are incredibly vigilant and will bolt if they see the glint off a scope. This also helps with the sunlight hitting your scope and nearly blinding you from taking your shot. There are some cases of this still happening in “modern” times (notoriously the sniper duel between Carlos Hathcock and Cobra, a North Vietnamese sniper during the Vietnam War) but it’s very rare and scopes that are currently used by police, military, and most hunters don’t glint. This is what a sunshade looks like.

BULLETS DO NOT PENETRATE WATER WELL. Water density is much higher than air and the shape of bullets means they don’t travel well in water. Most bullets will fragment or fold upon hitting the surface of the water and their speed is greatly reduced. Supersonic rounds (such as rifle-calibre, up to .50) fragment within a metre (~3ft) of the water’s surface. Slower sub-sonic rounds (such a pistol-calibre) can travel up to 3m (~10ft). Once you’re a metre under the surface, however, it’s unlikely for any round under .50 to even penetrate you on contact as it loses most of its kinetic power. Arrows however are very aerodynamic and may maintain their kinetic energy up to 2m (~6) and perhaps twice that if you're shooting straight down.

RESEARCH. RESEARCH. RESEARCH. Know the weapons you draw/animate/write. It might not matter to you, but it will make or break it to your viewer. Is the weapon single-shot or does it use a magazine? What is the magazine capacity? What is the recoil? How do you reload? What do you do in case of a jam? Does your character know the weapon well? YouTube is your best friend in this regard.

CLIPS AND MAGAZINES ARE NOT THE SAME THING. These are clips vs magazines. Clips are open and hold the cartridge by the bottom. Magazines fully enclose the cartridges. Clips only hold rounds together to make them easier to feed into a magazine.

BLOODY TRIGGER DISCIPLINE. If your character is waving a firearm around with their finger on the trigger I am personally coming to kick your arse. You keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. YOU DO NOT POINT YOUR MUZZLE TOWARD ANYTHING YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO SHOOT.

PROPANE TANKS WILL NOT EXPLODE IF YOU SHOOT THEM. Also, handguns are rarely powerful enough to pierce propane tanks. CARS WILL NOT BLOW UP IF YOU SHOOT THE PETROL TANK.

IF YOU FIRE A FIREARM IN AN ENCLOSED SPACE IT IS GOING TO TEMPORARILY DEAFEN YOU. GUNS ARE BLOODY LOUD. That’s why we wear ear protection. This applies less in intense combat situations as (in my experience) tinnitus doesn't happen if you start shooting after your adrenaline starts pumping.

MAG-DUMPING. Not only is it very dangerous because of the recoil, it’s a stupid waste of ammo as the recoil buggers up your aim so you’re rarely hitting your target. Unless your character is in a panic and/or holding down the trigger out of rage, they’re not going to mag-dump because you’ll empty your entire magazine in only a few seconds (stupid in a combat situation) and rarely hit your target. Fully automatic weapons are fired in short bursts of 2-5 rounds at a time.

IT’S INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT TO HIT A MOVING TARGET. IT’S EVEN HARDER TO DO IT WHEN YOU’RE THE ONE MOVING. Rounds fired while moving are typically just suppression fire—basically shots fired to make your enemy take cover so that they have no time to shoot at you. You are not aiming at a specific target. It’s spray-and-pray.

HIPFIRING IS SPRAY-AND-PRAY. It’s EXTREMELY difficult to hit a target while hipfiring and hitting any intentional target while doing so requires EXTENSIVE practice. For this reason most hipfiring is spray-and-pray—spray, and pray you hit something.

SHOTGUNS ARE EFFECTIVE AT MUCH FURTHER THAN ONLY A YARD OR TWO. Most stay clustering within 50yds. That’s this distance. If you're firing a slug it can be accurate to up to TWICE THIS DISTANCE.

SHOTGUNS WILL NOT THROW THE VICTIM ACROSS A ROOM. They don’t have that much kinetic power, and even if they did, they’d throw the shooter across the room first because they’re taking the brunt of the kinetic energy in the form of recoil.

BULLETS WILL PEIRCE CARS. Car doors will not protect you from bullets, not even the door of a police cruiser. THE ONLY PART OF A CAR THAT WILL PROTECT YOU FROM BULLETS IS THE ENGINE BLOCK. The rest is just concealment cover and will not protect you.

MOST CRIMINALS IN THE USA WILL NOT HAVE FULLY AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. This is less applicable to scenes that occur before the 1980s when there were more full-auto weapons on the streets, but even then were INCREDIBLY expensive and even your most notorious gangster would be unlikely to have them. Unless your character is a top-of-the-line 1920s-1940s Chicago/NY mobster, they probably won’t have that Tommy gun unless they’re filthy rich or the weapon was given to them by someone else who's filthy rich.

YES, YOU CAN MAKE RUNAWAY GUNS (FULL-AUTO) OUT OF SEMI-AUTO FIREARMS. NO, I WILL NOT TELL YOU HOW TO MAKE THEM. The issue with runaway guns is that once you pull the trigger THEY WILL NOT STOP FIRING EVEN IF YOU TAKE YOUR FINGER OFF THE TRIGGER. THEY WILL KEEP FIRING UNTIL THE MAGAZINE IS EMPTY OR UNTIL THEY JAM. For this reason no one in their right mind is making a runaway gun.

STOP HOLDING YOUR HANDGUN SIDEWAYS. YOU DON'T LOOK COOL, YOU LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT AND THAT'S HOW YOU GET JAMS. Having a character do this is a great way to show they're all bluff and an idiot, though.

YOU CANNOT PUT A SUPPRESSOR ON A REVOLVER. Well, technically you can, but it won't work. There's a gap between the cylinder and the bore and in this space is something called the forcing cone. There's a gap between the forcing cone and the bore which allows gas (and sound) to escape from the cylinder, which renders the suppressor absolutely useless since the sound and gas just escapes anyway.

FOR VISUAL CREATORS SPECIFICALLY: REMEMBER EYE RELIEF. YOU NEED TO BE A CERTAIN DISTANCE FROM THE SCOPE TO GET A FULL PICTURE. IF YOUR CHARACTER HAS THEIR EYE TO THE SCOPE THEY ARE GOING TO GIVE THEMSELF A BLACK EYE WITH THE RECOIL. My personal eye relief when shooting my .30-06 is 10cm (~4in). Higher calibre means more kick, which means more eye relief.

As before, if I think of any more I'll add them later!

As always, if you have any questions feel free to send me an ask!

[xumoonhao]

oh btw this fire is in a more industrial area of the city so. well you see shits absolutely fucked

something in my town is on fire 😐

[cosmica-galaxy]

Hey its goose anon! Thank you for answering my question thats like a long time ago which i just saw today, sorry about that been a long time since i visited this blog, but i still love your writings and art! :Since requests are open, i would like to ask of a scenerio of The main guys seeing Soldier!reader in action? Maybe a massive battle happened and reader decides to jump in and save them, but how destructive reader could ACTUALLY be?

Have a good day!

Hi, Goose! It's been a while and I'm glad you're back! :D

(This scenario would most likely take place after the AAHW tries to forcefully make the Soldier join, as well as them collecting enough samples to try and clone them. But their team breaks them out, so this takes place during their breakout and when their loyalty is sworn to SQ.)

CW: GORE MENTION AHEAD!

During the breakout to retrieve Soldier!Reader from the AAHW facility that served as their prison, the group of Hank, Sanford, and Deimos would no doubt be swarmed by AAHW units that were placed there to try and keep the Soldier contained.

Upon trying to break out, the SQ crew would be attacked by literal DOZENS of agents and units. Upon seeing their little friends getting shot and injured by the hostile organization, the large soldier would fly into a rage for the first time since they came to Nevada.

The peaceful diplomacy that the soldier is known for is suddenly gone and agents are finding themselves suddenly squared up against a large behemoth that is NOT happy that their little buddies are going to be killed off by the agents.

Upon starting to rampage, the soldier crushes numerous agents under their heavy boots with a series of vicious stomps. Turning them into crushed viscera and red smears in the concrete. They move much faster than MAG agents, their longer limbs allowing them to sidestep, leap, and roll out of danger and crush, squish, throw, and rend any agent units in their way.

Their primary objective is to pick up their smaller companions and place them on their body or in their reinforced backpack for safety. The injured are carefully placed onto their back while the others cling on to their back and body while they dispatch and destroy anything in their way as their rampage resumes.

Cars are crushed underfoot and if there are helicopters nearby, they will literally pick up a vehicle and CHUCK it at the helicopters. Sending them down in a ball of fire. If the helicopters manage to drop a few MAG agents, the Soldier will enter combat with them with no hesitation. Their nimble form allows them to dance around the MAGS with ease as they grab their extremities and tear the pipes and hoses from their bodies. If one MAG is particularly skilled, the legendary rifle that the soldier always carries around is utilized. A sound akin to a loud thunder clap rocks the ground and the next thing the grunts know, the MAG's head is blown to shit. Blood, brains, and bone are splattered in a radius around the collapsing body of the MAG agent.

Meanwhile, the SQ crew is hanging on or hiding in their pack, watching just the sheer amount of carnage the soldier is leaving in their aggressive wake. Piles upon piles of bodies lie across the battlefield, burning wrecks smolder and fires raging, and a couple of dead MAGS lie in the ruins of what was once a AAHW base. The soldier isn't even done, as they continue to rampage and rip, stomp, and throw away any adversaries that swarmed the area.

The soldier has taken damage too. From gunshots, to slashed clothes, and even burns from fire, but the soldier is far too enraged to care. They even target certain explosive parts of the base. Intentionally picking up AAHW trucks and throwing them at these vulnerable places. From fueling areas to propane takes, the car impacts these locations and shit fucking explodes. Fire rains down and the soldier finally begins to head out with their charges safely on their body.

The smoke from the fires provide cover from the helicopters and if any are seen following the retreating soldier, another thrown item (be it a car, iron beam, or corpse) is quick to dispatch the pursuers.

The soldier would run for miles away from the location, getting information from their little riders on where to go. Once they all get back to the base after the successful breakout, the soldier finally collapses in a tired heap and allows their charges to get off of them. Doc is quick to come out of the base and assess the damage and treat wounds.

Once the heat is off and injuries are mended, the soldier is treated with far more respect. Their aggression and sheer power was typically never shown nor seen, but after the AAHW fiasco, the SQ crew now truly understands the power someone like their large soldier can wield.

In a way, it makes the crew admire you.

As an added bonus to the aftermath, the soldier now looks at the AAHW as a genuine threat.

"Hank, you are right. The Auditor is a cocksucker and his entire organization can burn to the fucking ground. Fuck the AAHW."

The Soldier would say as they get treated by Doc, much to the happiness of Hank and the rest of the crew cheers in agreement.

The soldier is now much more wary of the AAHW after that, as they are also equally protective of their little "war-family" and would take any hostile behavior towards them as a threat.

NOBODY attempts to kill their little allies or their mini-me (Hank) and lives.

[circumlocutive]

whats the biggest safety hazard you've committed in any lab?

This is a very funny question, and a little bit up to interpretation of the question?

For safety hazards I have personally been harmed by/exposed to, these come to mind:

1) exposure to silica/glass dust at my advanced manufacturing internship (sorry, not technically a lab) where I cut and laid up structures made of layered fiberglass and resins, we had a shop vac set up by the CNC machine drill bit to suck in the dust but yknow. It wasn't perfect. And I also had to clean out the shop vac during the internship. Permanent glass dust in the lungs is a bit spooky.

2) cutting myself on the (used) razor in the cryotome when I was sectioning rat brains for an internship in a translational medicine lab. Pretty gross because of the biological contact but the cut itself was small and tbh lab rat tissues are way cleaner than most food meats so maybe this one wasn't actually that bad.

3) exposure to solvent fumes/powderized toxic chemicals while setting up reactions or doing workups, or OH DEF WHILE MAKING SDS PAGE GELS. But like, one day I was rotovapping like, liters of DCM and methanol which are p carcinogenic. Rotovaps don't normally live in a fume hood, but the air flow in my lab is poor and the air is way too hot so stuff readily vaporizes and every time I swapped out the collection flask some stuff would drip onto the bench and go into the air. Water also kept condensing on the outside of the cold finger, and while I was swapping the flasks, it would freeze on the ball/socket joint and fuck with proper sealing. So during rotovapping some vapors continued to escape. Oh and in the biotech lab at my community college we had ethidium bromide like. fucking everywhere. But that's not actually as bad for you as people make it out to be (otherwise there would be a lot more dead undergrads in the world lol)

There were some scary hazards in theory- like discovering after we moved my current lab that there were a bunch of water reactives/pyrophorics/self reactive chemicals that were previously kept in the inert gas environment of the glove box and for about a month lived on the bench top, maybe parafilmed or in ziplock bags but otherwise fairly exposed, while we organized and sorted all the chemicals into proper storage locations. I've had some glass explode on me under pressure or crack under heat, but usually within a fume hood (and I have goggles on whenever I am in lab). I work with liquid nitrogen fairly often now and scare myself overfilling Dewars and getting it on my gloves.

In a NON lab setting, my dad and ex gf had a blacksmithing shed in the backyard. So, heat hazards, sharps hazards, gas hazards, etc. Some acids for etching damascus that were left out in unlabeled containers. I've burned myself grabbing steel I assumed was cold (because it was black), but was several hundreds of degrees. The WORST thing is we used to have a wooden support table underneath our home built forge. The forge was fairly well insulated but ig it ran too hot for too long one day and at night the table started smoldering. It caught fire, right next to a bunch of propane tanks. We wouldn't have noticed either if my friend sleeping over that night- he left to hookup with someone off of grindr in the parking lot next door, came back, and saw the fire when he came back in the apartment. Woke us up and we put it out lol. Replaced that fucker with a welded steel table after that.

And then my dad is a weapons manufacturer/engineer so I've grown up around tons of guns and explosives and leaded ammunition and blah blah blah. So I guess those were safety hazards too.

[anoray]

Just sayin...

I love little Grogu for saving his Mando dad and auntie Bo with his protective Force bubble, but I do not think for one second that he one-upped Kanan.

May I present this single, small, exploding propane tank:

And now may I present what was ripping apart beneath Kanan’s feet while he held back the explosion to save his family:

I rest my case.

[lesbian-b0yfriend]

get to turn on the propane kitchen at work alll by myself and hope it doesn't explode (im irrationally terrified of gas powered objects)

[adultswim2021]

Aqua Teen Hunger Force #93: “A PE Christmas” | December 13, 2009 - 11:45PM | S08E01 regular series version aired March 15, 2010 @ 12:00AM

It’s the Aqua Teen Christmas episode, in which Shake and Meatwad steal Public Enemy’s identity and try to cut a rap record to sell on Christmas. It’s a pretty bad plan because they record it on Christmas eve and Shake sorta just believes the CD will appear in stores on Christmas day. The stores aren’t even open on Christmas day!! SHAKE COME ON! 

Mostly this one just consists of two scenes: one where the Aqua Teens attend Christmas mass and Shake acts childish. There’s a nice crowd scene filled with people from previous episodes, and for some reason the monsters are all sitting on the opposite side of the room. You hate to see a segregated church on Christmas. Then there’s the scene in the recording studio, with Shake and Meatwad coming up with bad ideas and recording them. The gag at the end of this, where Shake takes a big shit and it winds up on Meatwad’s track for Silent Night, is pretty low-brow, but it’s maybe the funniest thing in the episode. I don’t want to like it, I’m not about that life. 

This episode featured a bit of a twist where it turns out that Shake was filled with eels, hence his violent butthole outbursts. The original broadcast of this ended with Shake in jail, because he broke into a Better Buy store to see how his record was selling. He gets exploded to death after a bunch of eels burst out of him. When this episode aired as part of season seven, they added an ending that sorta explains that the Eels belonged to Chuck D (flagrantly misidentified as Flava Flav on the ATHF wiki). 

This one’s pretty lame, TBH. There were things in it I liked, but the best thing being a poo poo joke really should sum it all up. It also mildly perturbed me that this one airs between the live-action episode and the official season premiere “Rabbot Redux” which includes some continuity, so I numbered it according to the in-season air order. It also airs in some fucked up order on DVD! I don’t know why! I don’t know why they do that! 

Oh yeah I also liked the part where Shake rudely bangs on the glass in the recording studio. Pretty funny.

EPHEMERA CORNER: 

15th Annual Holiday Content Marathon (December 18, 2009)

An evening of Christmas specials. Also scheduled was “Gary’s Posse”, a promo that aired for a show that didn’t actually exist; in fact, I forgot all about this. Gary’s Posse was put on the schedule for AM this evening, but it was just a repeat of King of the Hill. Swimpedia (where I got this and nearly all of my scheduling information from) uncovered the fact that this is actually just stock footage from Julien Tromeur called "Afraid of your sexual fantasies." The promo advertising Gary’s Posse was just a gag. 

10:00/2:00 King of the Hill: Livin' on Reds, Vitamin C and Propane (Schedule Promo Falsely Announced Gary's Posse at 2:00 AM)

10:30/2:30 King of the Hill: 'Twas the Nut Before Christmas

11:00/3:00 Robot Chicken: Dear Consumer

11:15/3:15 The Venture Bros.: A Very Venture Christmas

11:30/3:30 American Dad!: The Best Christmas Story Never

12:00/4:00 Aqua Teen Hunger Force: Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past from the Future

12:15/4:15 Aqua Teen Hunger Force: T-Shirt of the Dead

12:30/4:30 Moral Orel: The Best Christmas Ever!

12:45/4:45 Moral Orel: Honor

1:00/5:00 Baby Blues: A Baby Blues Christmas Special

1:30 Tom Goes to the Mayor: Rats Off to Ya!

1:45 Sealab 2021: Feast of Alvis

5:30 Home Movies: The Adventures of Cho & Amy Lee

MAIL BAG

KON writes:

Worth noting about THE VENTURE BROS S04E07 "THE BETTER MAN"... it features the use of the Dana Snyder character completely unironically going "sooo... that happened." Granted this was right before that became the exclusive domain of MCU-type dialogue, but it still hit my ear about as harshly as any Bush-era slur. Nasty!

OH YEAH! I think I made note of that but for some reason it didn't make my write-up. i couldn't tell if that was bad writing or if that was an intentional character thing, but usually characters call each other out for saying stuff like that. So, that happened.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

One month since the City of Vancouver started formally removing the latest tent encampment on the Downtown Eastside, Mayor Ken Sim says the situation has improved. However, some non-profits and residents say the forced removals have caused more harm than good.

On April 5, the city shut down parts of East Hastings Street as garbage trucks moved into the area and police took down tents and makeshift homes.

Smaller-scale removals have continued throughout the month. 

"We've decreased the risk of, you know, 100-pound propane tanks exploding and taking out entire city blocks. We've reduced the weapons that are on the street," Sim said. "Things have gotten better."

Sim says growing concerns over fire risk and rising crime drove the city to take action in early April despite opposition from members of the community. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[beardedmrbean]

Authorities are investigating the explosion of a work van in Queens Friday as an accident.

According to fire officials and a law enforcement source, an unoccupied vehicle parked on 133rd Street with a propane tank in the trunk exploded. No injuries were reported.

The owner of the vehicle stayed at the scene and is cooperating with authorities, according to police sources. The sources say he may have been using the vehicle for some kind of plumbing work.

Four vehicles were damaged in the blast, which shattered windows at a half-dozen nearby homes.

Firefighters, Emergency Services Unit personnel and aviation support responded. The Bomb Squad also responded as a precaution, along with the buildings department and fire marshal.

Video posted to the Citizen app showed a heavy emergency response, as bystanders stood behind caution tape to watch the scene unfold. The van that exploded was completely destroyed.

No criminality is suspected at this time, officials say.