Lunamara



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  1. Public Bookmark 67

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    Aziraphale didn’t sleep. He didn’t really see the point.

    But he owned a bed. And he sometimes lay in it, and closed his eyes...

    For longer than he can remember, there's been a secret relationship with Crowley. But if he can't see it, then it can't be real, can it? So long as he pretends he's dreaming, it'll all be just fine.

    This fic does reference use of BSL/deafblind manual alphabet. Neither ineffable is deaf or blind, but alternative forms of communication are important to them, for reasons which will become apparent. They also use custom signals of their own that do not correlate to BSL signs, and likely predate them by centuries. You don't need to know any of them for the fic however, all are written in plain English.

    NEW: Illustrated by Miele_Petit (thank you for my lovely birthday gift!)

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    08 Aug 2024

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “It’s a nice idea,” Crowley chirped, grinning a little wider and making the butterflies in Aziraphale’s stomach flutter a little harder. “Except for the part where, you know, monsters aren’t real.”

    Aziraphale smiled with tightly shut lips, hiding the fangs that grew involuntarily sharper behind them. “Of course,” he hurried out with a polite laugh. “Speaking hypothetically, that is.”

    ---

    AZIRAPHALE'S A VAMPIRE AND CROWLEY IS A VAMPIRE HUNTER. ENSUE PINING 👏

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    16 May 2024

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    This is the story of six-thousand years and a borrowed jacket. (A tale told in vignettes.)

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    30 Apr 2024

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    Father Fell has been living a quiet life in a small parish. Despite the looming fear of war, he thought he was content with his small pleasures. Until a mysterious stranger comes to town, turning that life on its head and awakening desires the Father thought he buried long, long ago...

    COMPLETE!

    Now with cover art by the remarkable QUONA!

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    28 Apr 2024

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    When Crowley had snaked himself across the bar top, half purring, half snarling for Aziraphale to live a little, this wasn’t exactly what he meant by it. Not exclusively, anyway. If there was a list of possibilities, it may have been on there somewhere; scrawled as a hasty afterthought, perhaps under a subheading of Things That Would Surely Never Actually Happen.

    But the sight of Aziraphale lying naked and debauched in the middle of his black satin sheets was not something he was about to hesitate over.

    (If there was a second list, one surreptitiously scribbled on a napkin in the dark corner of a crowded bar, it would be titled Things Crowley Had No Right To Crave As Much As He Did, and it would start and end with this single bullet point)

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    27 Apr 2024