FlyingSnake
Recent bookmarks
-
Tags
Summary
Wherein Aziraphale is an eldritch horror who pretends to be an angel.
[Comic]
Series
- Part 1 of Chosen Faces AU
-
Tags
Summary
Alastor had certainly found himself in stranger situations, but spending his nights reading in the bedroom of Hell’s most infamous porn star was definitely not something he had expected to become commonplace. It was something he justified as a matter of convenience, he really didn’t have anything better to do in the middle of the night and therefore the arrangement was mutually beneficial. It was also, admittedly, a minuscule act of kindness; an old habit from his life that he hadn’t quite managed to rid himself of, like scattering crumbs for the birds or cooking for those in close proximity to him.
It was strange, but so much of Alastor’s life in Hell was, and this was no more noteworthy than the rest. That is, until it was. Because what should have been an overwhelmingly unremarkable experience was starting to feel like… something else.
Or
Alastor’s inability to mind his own business sparks something he doesn’t know how to label, nor is he sure he wants to.
Series
- Part 2 of Sweet Tooth
-
The Same Moon Shines by sami, Winterstar1412
Fandom myself really, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
25 Mar 2026
- Words:
- 918,461
- Works:
- 57
- Bookmarks:
- 3,107
-
Tags
Summary
Mornings at the cafe are quiet and simple, just how Angel likes it these days. Unfortunately for him, that’s all about to change when the new lawyer in town, Alastor LeBlanc, walks through the door early one morning. Slow burn coffee-shop-adjacent human AU with canon-typical violence.
-
Tags
Summary
Alastor had been at the Hazbin Hotel for barely three months, and he was already bored. Violently so. Nights were the worst, of course, with all other denizens of the hotel shuffled off to bed. Normally he would read, or listen to his records, or plan his next broadcast, or go for a wander in the bayou. But with things as they were, he found he was quite exhausting his interest for such diversions during the day. So he wandered in the shadows, half-corporeal and only half-cognizant, flitting from room to room like a hummingbird starving to death among shrivelled flowers.
That was how he came to see Angel Dust kicking the front door open at 2:32 in the morning.