#but!!! i worked on the dead dove alastor fic and it really is just
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licking his horns as we speak actually
#so in love with him#so so so so so in love with him like#itâs such a bad crush#i want to cut my tongue on his horns#i want him to be my daddy#i want to be his pet human daughter#i fucking#nEED HIM#i canât fucking handle him in that fuckin ranch outfit like he is so cUTE#I WANT TO SUCK HIS COCK#um anyway#going through it for blitzo today sigh#but!!! i worked on the dead dove alastor fic and it really is just#so fucking gross HAHAHAHA#i hope u guys like it eeeeee#inky.hazbin#fucking lOOK AT HIM LOOOOOOOOOK AT HIM
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Eye Level
NSFW - MDNI - 18+ ONLY
My brain is currently refusing to cooperate and work on any other writing until I spit out my dumb little one-shot with my favorite trope (size differences) with one of my favorite demons. So here ya go. Hopefully Iâll be back to writing out my planned Cloud fics afterwards.
Eye Level
Summary: Alastor x reader. 4.1k. You're short. You know it, everyone at the hotel knows it. You've assumed that it's some sort of divine punishment for whatever sins you committed while alive, but it's really not so bad, as long as no one hides your step-stool. Today, you've found a new problem with it, though, when you try to get a little closer to your favorite 7-foot-tall demon.
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, dead dove do not eat, size difference (reader reaches Alastorâs hips), smut, reader is gender-neutral with reference to having a vagina, reader wears a dress and bloomers, Alastor being sadistic, reader being a masochist, Alastor calls you âgood girlâ because Iâm a sucker for it
The red light of the sky outside is bleeding in to the hotel, burning your eyes and causing an ache in your head. You want to shut it out, but Niffty is busy cleaning all the windows. Rubbing your right temple, you shift on the couch in an attempt to angle yourself away from the worst of the light as you continue to read your book. The words on the page seem harsher than before against the rough, yellowed pages. In addition to Earthâs actual sunlight, you also find yourself missing the convenience of heading out to the pharmacy to pickup some painkillers that werenât illicit substances.
âSomething the matter, dearest?â
You lift your head at the sound of Alastorâs voice. Heâs blocking the light as he stands in front of you, his long shadow easing the pain in your head. You have to crane your neck to look at his smiling face, but youâre used to it at this point.
âOh, I just have a headache,â you say with a light shrug. âIâm okay. How are you doing?â
âWonderful as always, darling,â he assures. âWhy donât you join me for a cup of coffee upstairs? Iâve found it works like a charm for a headache.â
You perk up at the thought. Itâs a little late in the day to have coffee, but youâre not one to turn down a drink and a snack with Alastor. You take care of most of the cooking for the hotel, since Niffty took over your old job of cleaning, so having something made by another person is a nice treat. Plus, heâs good companyâheâs the most polite person you think youâll ever meet in Hell.
âIâd love to,â you say, sliding off of the couch. You smooth out your dress and tuck your book under your arm; you can finish it another time. Your certain that if you were taller, Alastor would do the gentlemanly thing you see him do with others and link arms with you, but thatâs not really possible at your height. Instead, he leads the way by engulfing your little hand with his.
Youâre barely focused on the small-talk he makes with you as he guides you up the stairs. His gloves are smooth, and you can feel his claws tickling the skin on your wrist and hand. You know that, as much as Alastor enjoys invading other peopleâs personal space, he does not enjoy allowing others in to his personal space. Despite this, he has been rather open to your presence; picking you up, holding your hand, ruffling your hair. It feels nice. It makes you feel specialâlike heâs bestowing an honor on you just by patting you on the head, one that the others donât get.
You nearly trip over a step, and it snaps you out of your thoughts. Alastor stops you from hitting the ground by extending his arm, letting you put your weight on him for balance.
âCareful, dearest,â he chides, âIâm not always here to catch you.â
Your headache is back, caused by the heat rushing to your face and chest. âRight, thank you,â you mumble, ducking your head. âI-I was just thinking.â
âAbout what?â You should have seen that coming.
Your eyes dart around as he guides you towards his room. âUh, j-justâthe book you lent me,â you spit out. âIâm almost finished with it. Itâs really good.â
âIâm glad youâre enjoying it,â he says, holding open the door for you. âItâs not often I meet another down here that enjoys a good book.â
You smile and step in to his roomâimmediately, youâre hit by the scent of paper, candles, wood that is well-cared for, and decaying leaves and other plant matter. You know his room changes. You know that what you see is different from what the others see when they enter. Youâve heard them mention the swamp that makes up half of the room, often complete with a decaying deer. Every time he has invited you in, however, it has been nothing other than a lovely room that looks like it belongs in some fancy townhome from the 1920s.
Just another thing that makes you feel special.
âIf you have a favorite book, Iâd love to read it,â you suggest as you slip out of your shoes.
Alastorâs grin grows even wider than usual. âReally? Well, Iâll have to think about it; I have quite a few in my collection that I favor.â Itâs a lie, an excuse to put this off for later. Thereâs something he doesnât want you to see. You can sense it, deep down in your gut, but you ignore it. Heâs always shielded your eyes from the badâfrom the gore of Hell, from those that would try to take advantage of you, even from some of the arguments among the others. This is no different.
Moving on from the topic, Alastor snaps his fingers, and a tray of coffee and small snacks appear on his dining table. Heâs added cream and sugar for you; he doesnât understand your sweet-tooth, but he does indulge it.
âOh, and a treat for you, little one.â
He snaps his fingers again, and when you next blink your eyes, you find that a dish has appeared on the tray. Itâs a slice of cakeâthe same you remember ogling outside the bakery window the last time you went outside the hotel. The hotel doesnât offer payment for your services, so your measly pocket change was not enough to get it. He must have noticed your longing for that delicious, soft piece of cake. You donât even remember the last time you had the luxury of cake. The last time was probably when you were alive, and you have the feeling it was one of those store-bought cakes that are dry and covered in thick, sickeningly sweet icing.
This cake is fancy. This cake is fluffy and standing tall, covered in berries and whipped cream with just the right amount of sweetness. And most of allâit means that Alastor paid that much attention to you on a silly outing that he didnât need to be a part of.
âThank you, Alastor!â
You throw out your arms and wrap them around him. Itâs a chance as good as any. The closest you have come to hugging him is when heâs picked you up and carried you around like a doll. Surely a gift like this means he would be okay with itâalthough, the second you touch him, you realize youâre probably reading a little too much in to a slice of cake, and maybe itâs because you forgot to eat lunch.
Your arms wrapped around his legs, your feet in between his. And now you remember just how short you are compared to him. Normally, youâre either staring at the ground or youâre turning your head all the way up to look at his face, which makes it easy to forget that your head reaches an⌠unfortunate location that you have just unknowingly pushed yourself against.
Your face is burning again. Your head is throbbing. If you werenât already condemned to Hell, this would probably have gotten you in. Your cheek is right against his groin. You fear looking up at his face for a reaction, but you do it anyway and see that, despite his smile, he looks to be just as shocked as you, if not more. And then it changes. The shock is fading. His eyes are getting darker, and that strange look in his eyesâone that youâve never seen on himâis directed at you.
You force your body in to action. âI-Iâm sorry!â you squawk, stumbling away from him. âUm! I-I justâI was excited; I didnât mean toâuh, s-sorry, sorry!â Youâre clumsily making your way back towards the door, nearly slipping from the lack of friction your socks have on the polished floor.
Alastor takes a step closer to you, and you bristle, picking up the pace. âMa cher, donâtââ
âSorry!â you cry one last time, slipping out the door and in to the safety of the hallway. You dash to the end of it and around a corner, where you wait to hear any signs of him following. Nothing. The only thing you hear is your own racing heart and the blood rushing through your body. You feel hot, shaky, and a little sweatyâyour feet are sweating through your socks.
Your socks.
You forgot your fucking shoes in his room.
Groaning, you sink down to the floor and peel off your socks, freeing your overheated feet. You replay the event in your mind as you stare emptily at your toes, wiggling them all one by one. You just had to go and try to hug himâyou couldnât just be patient and wait for him to one day, just maybe, initiate it himself. At the very least, you could have been more careful. You think it might have been a nice hug otherwise. You can still feel the crisp fabric of his pants and the warmth he radiates; you can smell the light scent of smoke and cologne on his clothes. The button of his pants had been against your cheek, and you have no control against the intrusive thought of how the bulge in his pants had felt.
Smacking your cheeks with your palms, you shake your head, as though it would toss the thought out. You need to stop being a little creep and get your shoes. You have one pair of shoes, and you are not willing to walk barefoot anywhere in Pentagram City. The longer you leave them there, the more likely you are to abandon them entirely in hopes of never having a confrontation with Alastor. Well⌠maybe you could ask Charlie to get you a new pair of shoes? You groan at yourself; youâre already trying to get out of it.
You push yourself to your feet and dust off the skirt of your dress. You take quiet, slow steps towards his room. You can do this. Just donât think about it. Did he like it? No, stop it. Did it excite him, like it excited you? Stop that! Youâre wetâmaybe from fear, maybe from arousal. Your hands are shaking as you reach for the doorknob. You contemplate whether it would be best to knock or simply crack the door open and grab your shoes without entering. Alastor is polite, though; you know heâd much rather you be decent and knock.
Heart racing, chest heaving with tiny and anxious breaths, you tap your knuckles against the door. It opens almost immediately.
âYes, dearest? Have you calmed down now?â
You canât bring yourself to look at his face; instead, you resort to looking at your bare feet. âIâum, I realized I forgot my shoes here,â you mumble, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.
He laughs at thisâit makes you shiver, and you hope he doesnât notice. âYou were in quite the hurry,â he teases. âWhat scared you so badly, darling?â
You mean to simply snatch your shoes and flee, but the moment you cross the threshold, heâs closed the door behind you. Your heart is pounding, as though it thinks youâre sprinting down a hallway from a monster. But itâs just Alastor! Heâs never harmed you, only kept you safeâand yet, you feel like youâre caught in a trap. You can feel the warmth of his body radiating from behind you; heâs close, and for once, you wish heâd be less comfortable with you in his personal space. Despite this, you canât bring your dumb feet to move. You are caught like a deer in headlights.
âWhatâs wrong, pet?â Heâs never called you that before. Itâs new and exciting, even though you internally scold yourself for the warm feeling building up in the depths of your gut. âWhy have you gone quiet? Youâre not ignoring me, are you?â
His fingers ghost over your hair as he speaks, his hand finally coming to rest on your shoulder. Itâs not as though youâre hiding your discomfort well, but that doesnât stop him. Alastorâs left hand comes from behind you and cups your chin, slowly drawing you back until your spine touches his leg. You shut your eyes. You wonât look at him; it makes you feel at least a little less exposed, even if you know he can see the red in your face all the same.
âI donât appreciate the silent treatment, dearest,â he warns, giving your cheeks a squeeze. âI guess Iâll have to find a way to snap you out of it.â
Youâre lifted off of your feet; the sudden feeling of instability makes you open your eyes, even though you try to resist. Before you can register it, Alastor has dropped you on his bedâa bed that seems rarely usedâand is now kneeling before you.
âYouâve been terribly rude, pet,â he chides, resting his hand on your knee. âFirst you get so close to me, then you run off and leave me wanting? Now you come back and refuse to say a word to me.â He clicks his tongue in disdain; its the feeling of his claws digging in to your skin that truly express his displeasure. You shift in place, but keep your mouth sealed. Your mind is blank, anyhow.
When his claws pierce your skin, you move out of reflex, jerking your leg away from his hand. Alastorâs grip is iron-clad and holds you in place so tightly that you canât even move it a millimeter. Your skin feels hot and cold at the same time, and goosebumps are running up and down your arms. Your mind is getting hazy, to the point that your vision blurs as his other hand creeps up the skirt of your dress.
You try to control your breaths, try to look anywhere other than him. Heâs relishing the sight of you as his fingers curl around the waistband of your frilly bloomers. He grips your hip harshlyâyou know it will leave a reminder in the form of a bruise later. His thumb lightly brushes over your clit, and your toes curl in response. Itâs like heâs fascinated by the response your body has to it; heâs watching every twitch, shiver, and shake as he toys with you. Finally, a mewl escapes your lips. Something about the noise draws him out of whatever it is that heâs thinking, and he looks you in the eyes.
âIâm nothing if not a gentleman, darling,â he says, relaxing his grip on you. âSo⌠yes or no?â
This is closer to the Alastor youâre familiar and comfortable with. He looks so calm and pleased that itâs like itâs just another day for him, one where he does not have his hand in your underwear and heâs just making you feel special by gracing you with a pat on your head. The familiarity is reassuring, and youâre such a sucker for how special he makes you feel, so surely thereâs no harm in thisâŚ
âYes,â you finally eke out.
Alastorâs grin widens; his thumb immediately resumes teasing you. His other hand strokes up and down your thigh, his claws tickling you and leaving red streaks in their wake. You moan again and are met with the reminder of his watchful gaze; unable to take the feeling of scrutiny anymore, you grab the lapel of his coat and tug on it.
You hear him chuckle and crack your eyes open again. Heâs released youâfor nowâto shrug off his coat and set it aside.
âAn eye for an eye, pet?â
He doesnât give you a chance to agree to this suggestion; he pops open the buttons on the back of your dress in one quick motion. Your dress is pulled from your body, leaving you and your bloomers entirely exposed. You instinctively cover your chest with your forearm. This is hardly an eye for an eyeâand you know, deep down, that he knows that and enjoys every bit of imbalance between you two. And you do, too, even if you donât want to admit it.
His hands are on you again, this time running up and down your waist, back, thighs, and chest. Heâs parting your legs and moving in between them, leaning down to press his lips to your throat. You whimper, now suffocated by the dizzying smell of tobacco. Alastor gives you a gentle peck, before his teeth graze your delicate skin and earn a moan from you. You instinctively bristle from the delightful pain, and he pushes your legs apart again.
âRelax, sha,â he murmurs against your neck. âRelax. Would I let you get hurt?â
Yes. He absolutely would. You know that, and you stuff it down. Who cares? Who cares if you get a little hurt? If he lets it happen? If heâs the one to do it, if heâs the one watching and enjoying it, thatâs all that really matters.
So you relax for him and melt in to his touch, letting him guide you down to the soft bed. You donât resist when your bloomers come off. Youâre completely exposed to him, and heâs simply standing over you, grinning at the sight. The one sacrifice he does make is his gloves, shedding them to feel your skin in its full glory. His hands are much warmer without his gloves on; the feeling of them rubbing your legs is soothing.
âAlastor,â you mewlâfor a moment, you realize just how pathetic and weak you sound, but decide that itâs fine to be pathetic and weak for him and slip back in to your haze. For every inch of fog clouding your mind, Alastor seems to gain a new degree of focus. You canât tell exactly what it is heâs so focused on, so hungry for, but you enjoy it all the same.
âYou sound so lovely when you say my name.â His voice sounds so different nowâanimalistic, growling. Your heart rate spikes again, but youâre not about to back out now, so you enjoy the adrenaline rush as you gaze up at the ceiling. You hear a shift of fabric, feel him moving between your legs as he looms over you. He slips one hand underneath you to feel the small of your back, and you finally realize what heâs about toâ
âAhh!â you hiss, curling your spine as you reflexively try to escape the source of the pain. Youâre brought back to the reality of your situation for a brief moment; Alastor is over seven feet tall, you are definitely not, and he is definitely entirely proportionate for his height. It hurts, worse than anything you think youâve felt before. You feel like youâre splitting open, despite how wet you are and the fact that heâs barely inside of you.
Alastorâs hands hold you in place by your hip and your arm. You can feel his own excitement and agitation from the tightness of his gripâso tight heâs trembling in the slightestâand the hint of sweat on his palms. âBehave, sha,â he orders through his teeth. Heâs trying to suppress your squirming as much as possible, but you can still wriggle in his grip, and every movement of your hips sends a wave of pleasure through him. âRelax and behave.â
Your body is slowly adjusting to the pain, and his voice is bringing you back to that lovely, pleasurable haze. You force yourself to stay still and breathe through it.
âThatâs it,â he murmurs with a sigh. âGood girl.â You shudder at the words, and he pushes himself further inside of you. You donât struggle this time; you simply yelp in pain and squeeze your eyes shut to bear it. He releases your arm to grab you by your chin, forcing your head up. You open your eyes, your face contorted in pain; heâs smiling, of course. Itâs a feral, sadistic smile, but itâs not quite the same one youâve seen before he rips apart some idiot trying to wreck the hotel. This one is different, and you hope itâs one heâs reserved only for you. No matter how frightening it is, youâll still delight in the honor.
You manage to relax a little more, having adjusted to the feeling of being torn in two. Alastor sighs at the feeling and once again pushes further inside of you. Every effort of yours to behave will be rewarded like thisâwith more pain, blood, and tears that prick your eyes. You had your chance to say no. You still could. But you donât. Youâre special. He wants you. And you want himâyou want him to degrade you, too.
âIt hurts, doesnât it, sha?â he coos in a tone of faux concern. Still, you whimper and nod, curling your fingers in to the linens beneath you. âI know, pet, I know. It must hurt terribly.â Another inch inside of you, another swallowed scream.
âP-please,â you beg. You barely even realize the words are spilling out of your mouth. âI canâtâI canât take it.â
âYou can,â he assures, his hand moving down to your throat. No matter how much he wants to, he doesnât squeeze. Not yet. Heâll save that for another time, another day. Thereâs nothing wrong with denying a bit of pleasure now to make it sweeter later. âYou can and you will. I will make you.â
You try to scream when you feel the sensation of a burning, sharp pain pierce further inside of you, but he clamps his hand over your mouth.
âNo,â he breathes. âYou wonât make a sound unless youâre quiet about it. I am the only one who can hear you. This is just for me.â
You swallow back the scream; it feels like itâs still stuck in your chest, making it ache as it tries to beat its way out through your sternum. Itâs too painful to breathe. Every single movement is painful. This is as far as he can go without really hurting youâwithout you truly breaking apart. You can smell blood. You feel like you can maybe taste it, too. The sight of it only spurs him on, and he pounds in to you without any concern for the pain it will cause you.
You canât even scream; itâs too sudden. Once the waves of pain truly set in, you let out a weak cry and grab on to his arms in an effort to steady yourself. Spots of all colors are appearing in your vision as the sounds of the roomâskin against skin, muffled groans that heâs trying to hold back, your own cryingâget further and further away. Your grip on him loosens, and he notices.
âI canât keep going if youâre sleeping, pet,â Alastor taunts, grabbing you by your chin and squeezing. When your pupils only dilate further, he takes a handful of your hair and pulls, giving your head a shake. That does it; youâre awake enough, for now. âThere you are.â
You canât escape the pain. You just have to live with it. Any time he sees you slipping out of consciousness, youâre awakened with a sharp jolt of pain. And now his movements are too fast, too harsh to even begin to pass out. Tears freely flow down your face at this point, as freely as the blood pooling beneath your thighs.
âA-Alastor,â you sob, one hand reaching up for him. âPlease.â
The pathetic sight of you stupidly reaching for him is what sends him over the edge. His claws curl in to your skin, and blood drips on to the linens beneath you. Heâs looming over you as you feel warmth replace the feeling of an icy knife in your belly, spilling out of you and on to your legs. His eyes are closed, heâs panting, and his brow is furrowed. You like the sight of it, but you canât fully enjoy it when heâs still causing you so much pain.
Finally, his eyes open, and he pulls away from you without warning, sending another ripple of pain through you. Youâre throbbing. You feel like youâve been impaled and suffocated. You definitely did not cum. And yet, when the look on his face softens, the pain lessens. Heâs back to the gentleman you know and adore.
âOh dear,â he sighs, resting his cheek against his handâa hand covered in your blood. âLetâs get you cleaned up, shall we?â
As he helps you bathe and feeds you a potion to help heal some of your wounds, you let that haze settle in permanently in a part of your brain. As long as he makes you feel special, as long as he calls you sweetheart and pet and sha, youâll take whatever pain he throws at you.
#dead dove#dead dove do not eat#dark fic#yandere!alastor x reader#mdni#miasmal writes#size difference
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im late to the party but i just wanted to say that i came across your lucifer fic, take two and leave a voicemail!, and it was i think one of the best HH fic ive read so far, like it might be one of my favorite fics full stop. I read your other lucifer fics as well because you just get him and his voice so right!!! ive started reading once bitten back for more (not up to date yet!) and ive been really enjoying that too and it had me wondering, do you think youll ever have any dead-doving in store for lucifer ;p ? or really, any more lucifer fics! though i cant complain, ive still got so much more radiostatic to read, lucifer is just my bias ;-) anyway wanted to thank you for writing so much and of such good quality, its very inspirational. hope youre having a nice day!
Thank you so much! I REALLY enjoyed writing that fic and it's one of the pieces of my own work that I've gone back to reread a couple of times, so it makes me really happy that you enjoyed it!
I do have more Lucifer fics in the works (active WIPs include a 4+1 fic of him taking care of the hotel's sinners and vice versa, and then maybe an Angel/Lucifer sequel), though none are dead dove unless the, uh, wing removal fic percolating in the back of my mind grows more motivation, haha.
To be perfectly honest, I love Lucifer a LOT as a character and I enjoy writing his POV immensely, but I haven't been writing him anymore recently because 1) got bitten very aggressively by the radiostatic bug and 2) I.......... need to get over myself about some aspects of fandom having put me off his character jdjsjhd.
Mild salt ahead: There's just so much radioapple absolutely everywhere, and while I'm not actually opposed to the ship itself (I reblog it plenty and read it sometimes, I'm just picky), I don't vibe very well with the characterization it tends to give both Lucifer and Alastor specifically when it's being used as the "this is the nonproblematic Hot Men" ship, especially in combination with frequently questionable portrayals of Alastor's orientation. Also, it's kind of annoying to be a fan of radiostatic and staticmoth and see those two ships tagged in so many works where radioapple is the actual ship of focus. This isn't a problem with the ship itself, but it's just kinda what happens when a ship is THE most popular ship in a massive fandom.
Anyway, hopefully once I finish Once Bitten, Back For More then I'll dig up my enthusiasm for Lucifer again and knock out that 4+1 fic, hahaha!
#personal#ask#anonymous#t#my writing#also NEVER LATE TO THE PARTY#I got a comment on a fic i wrote in 2020 the other day and it made me so happy
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My radioapple fic just hit 100k words and is the 4th longest fic on AO3, so that's something. I'm usually more of a lurker in fandom but this is really kicking me out of my safe zone, so posting here too!
(idk how to post fics on Tumblr so sorry if format is wrong)
The Town That Saw Him Die (The Second Time)
Hazbin Hotel, Alastor/Lucifer, Explicit
Summary:
Life. His mother would say, lovingly wiping his cuts and wrapping them securely. Protect your blood. Don't lose the power of your life.
Alastor was once a child, his motherâs son. Then he became a murderer. Then he died and became a monster. Where is there to go next?
Or: The life, and death-life of Alastor, the Radio Demon. An exploration of the path to hell, the purpose behind redemption and the unstoppable change to the Status Quo that is one Charlie Magne.
(Brief Necrophilia And Dead-Dove tags for segment in Chapter 8, marked accordingly and notes provided at end of chapter if you prefer to skip)
Mind the tags and the warnings!! I am writing Radioapple itself pretty on the fluffy side, but there is still some very dark shit in other relationships/scenes.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/53732587/chapters/136020982
Currently at chapter 39, estimated 60, might be longer.
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I'd Stop The World To Melt With You
Pairing: Alastor/Velvette
Genre: Romance/Horror
Rating: M
Word Count: 100
Status: Complete
Warnings: Het, M/F, Murder, Death, Fire, Burning Alive, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat
Disclaimer: I donât own anything.
Summary: She couldn't have impressed him more.
Here's a gift fic for @ritzy-cervidae! I really had a blast on this. It was for a drabble challenge, so it's really short, but I love this a lot. Under a cut for violence/death.
Sometimes I just like to write fics based on my rps with people, so I hope that y'all are ready for some things from me. I have three more done and ready to post, and then I'm working on a few more as we speak. That's why I'm a little slow on replies, I've been working on my fanfic stuff.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Oh, Dearest, Alastor couldn't help but press his right hand to his chest, a soft gasp on his lips, "All this just for me?"
"You know how I feel about you." Velvette began, closing her eyes before taking a few steps closer, "I want to watch the world burn with you. I want to kill for you, I want to kill with you. You are my focus this afternoon, just me and you."
The burning van, filled with screams for now, rimmed Alastor just right, and her breath caught in her lungs when she opened them to look at him, "Love you."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Prompt: Let The World Burn
#MUN'S WRITING â˝â˝â˝#My Fic#My Fanfic#My Fanfiction#My Writing#Hollywood Made A Killing Machine Sheâs Like A Teenage Slaughter Movie Scene A Serial Killer Celebrity (νŃâνŃŃŃŃ)#(Velvette and Alastor - Ritzy-Cervidae)#My Girl If Looks Gave Heart Attacks (Velvette đ Alastor)#V: If Blood And Bones Are What You Want I Suggest You Look Behind You#Every Look Every Touch Makes Me Wanna Give You My Heart (BB Couple Timeline đ)#Dead Dove Do Not Eat
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Hello!
Sorry to bother you, but I just saw some posts about an app that just launched that will use fics off ao3 and read them aloud using AI. This app will likely include some kind of data tracking as well, based on the features they'replanning on implementing. It won't be able to access archive-locked fics (locking them to people signed into ao3 only, I believe), and supposedly there's a way to email them to disallow your fics being used but people who've tried it say it may not work.
Here's the post I saw! https://www.tumblr.com/lets-steal-an-archive/751044151768907776?source=share
As a side note to all of that- I absolutely love all your fics! The way you write Alastor is fantastic and I love your take on his unreliable narration across your works featuring him. I also really enjoyed your Lucifer/Angel fic. Your characterization is always immaculately on-point asdfghjkl
Hey, there! :D I've been following the discussion on this in a few places (mostly on the AO3 subreddit) and as of fairly recently, it looks like the actual website is down and the TikTok account where the creator was making announcement posted a shut-down video! There's a non-zero chance they'll try again in the future under a different name, obviously, but thankfully at least for now, it's all safe!
I'm always very hesitant to lock my fics because the sheer amount of NSFW and dead dove that I write means that I get a decent amount of engagement from people who aren't logged into AO3, and I'd hate to take my fics away from those folks. I was really happy to see that the lore-fm thing has been resolved before I felt that it got to that point.
And thank you so much!! I've been such a radiostatic pit recently, it's genuinely so delightful that my non-radiostatic fics are still also getting love, hahaha. And I LOVE unreliable narration, ahhh, it's my favorite way to write characters, so I'm glad it's enjoyable to read as well!!
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