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Summary
In 1933 Alastor manages to summon a demon with a rectangular, glowing head who keeps staring at him like he can't decide between tearing him apart and worshipping him at his feet.
Meanwhile, Vox just blew up himself and the entire universe and suddenly stands before a second chance. He simply has no idea what that second chance entails.
In other words: The demon Vox and human Alastor time travel roadtrip fic that spiralled and suddenly gained a plot
Series
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Summary
It has been three months since Vox had been forcibly taken back to Vee Tower, any and all memory of Alastor erased.
Alastor is still struggling to rationalise a plan to get Vox to remember him, their relationship, and get him back. Opting to pretend everything is fine and that he isn’t still heartbroken for now. Until he figures out what to do.
Fortunately, Alastor has eyes on the inside to ensure Vox was safe, at the very least.Vox is… not coping well with being out of the spotlight and being relegated to behind the scenes tasks. He is also beginning to doubt the honesty and intentions of his business partners. Vox needs to figure out what really happened while he was “out of commission” for almost seven months.
There was a growing feeling inside him, something was very wrong.Series
- Part 2 of Head Over Heels
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Summary
Alastor finds a television in the trash and decides to help him out. He didn't expect the picture box to be so fascinating.
Vox didn't want to be plucked from the gutter like a soggy wet kitten but here they were. The guy who did him the favor was an asshole and - kind of weird.
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Summary
Hell is other people. Purgatory is being a twenty something weatherman with the memories of a being a media overlord who had the entirety of Hell wrapped around his finger.
Sent back to his mortal life with a chance to "do it right this time", Vox has a problem. The Angels have installed a patch in his soul: the Pacifist Protocol. If he tries to kill a rival, poison a boss, or throw a punch, he is paralyzed by blinding agony.
He cannot claw his way to the top if he can't use his claws. He needs a loophole.
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Summary
A collection of my Radiostatic drabbles, vignettes and longer scenes, all connected and set during the time Alastor is held captive by Vox
Ridiculously careful, Vox combs his sharp claws through the red hair. Through the lush bangs, over the velvety soft ears folded back. Alastor doesn’t stir. His face turned away from him. Yet every now and then he blinks. Slowly, so slowly that Vox can almost believe he’s enjoying it.

