DreamWalker
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Summary
When the other Vees don't show up to stop Vox, Alastor is forced to, once again, save the day himself. He offers to make Vox a deal. One martini in exchange for saving the world.
Of course, every deal made in Hell has much more to it than what the words alone say. Their personal history with the cocktail goes back to the 1960's, a brand new sinner named Vincent getting the lay of Hell, a wide-smiling patron of the arts, and an utter refusal to ever define a relationship.
It's a love story, if you squint.
Bookmarked by DreamWalker
25 Mar 2026
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The ever-present radio waves that constantly hum around Vox are faltering. Weakening.
That only ever happens when Alastor is hurt.
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A sickfic, featuring yearning, cuddling and Alastor reluctantly accepting help.
Bookmarked by DreamWalker
23 Mar 2026
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A man’s going to die tonight.
Vincent Whittman is someone who inspires words like 'nice' and 'a little odd'. The kind of person whose darkest sin can only be bad tipping or disregard of social cues. Right?
Working at a New York television station, he's yet another man with ambition larger than himself.
Tonight, he's going for the throat, ready to seize his fate. Until a single misstep, one slip of a mask, in front of a stranger upends his entire plan and Vincent, the self-proclaimed master puppeteer, finds himself a mere marionette.The radio host from New Orleans, Alastor Hartfelt, cannot be conquered in ways Vincent knows of. He seems to unravel him faster than a predator rips prey. Vincent's in trouble. Yet, he cannot stay away.
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or: Alastor visits NYC for unspecified business, and Vincent, an aspiring TV star and killer, fumbles fast. Desperate, he bends his career for a chase as control slowly slips through his fingers. Murder, obsession and unconventional romance ensue.Bookmarked by DreamWalker
22 Mar 2026
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Summary
”You’d call everything off right now, just for this?”
Just for this, he says. As though it’s trivial. As though it isn’t everything that Vox has dreamt of every night for the past several decades. As though the rejection doesn’t sting just as sharply every time he wakes up and reaches to the other side of a cold bed, hands searching for a lover that will never be there, and hears callous laughter echoing in the back of his skull.
Vox sucks in a shaky breath, closing his eyes. He tilts his face downward, unable to look at Alastor when he admits it. He almost can’t bring himself to, sure that Alastor is already certain of the answer.
”Yes,” he whispers.
”You can’t be serious,” Alastor says quietly.
~~~~~~
In which many things come to light, all earth-shattering.
Bookmarked by DreamWalker
21 Mar 2026
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Summary
“I remember this one,” Vox says.
Alastor’s humming stops. Anxiety tastes like acid on the back of Vox's tongue.
“As do I,” Alastor admits.
Vox swallows past the lump in his throat. He can taste smoke in the air, feel Alastor’s hair brushing the edge of his face in his memories.
“Dance with me?” he asks.
Alastor freezes.
Vox freezes.
They stare at each other wordlessly, twin expressions of shock and apprehension.
There are ghosts behind Alastor’s grin. He wonders if Alastor can see the moments that haunt him too, a thousand memories pixelating into a reckless longing reflected in his wide eyes.
~~~~~
In which there is dancing, and a monumental shift.
Bookmarked by DreamWalker
21 Mar 2026