crusading_cryptid



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Hob had first stumbled upon, and then been dragged into this whole esoteric business. The chance of sating both his wanderlust and his loneliness had been to good to pass, and there he'd gone - Faking it until he'd made it. Conning this secret society at leisure, posing as the immortal Count of St. Germain. For once, he didn't have to lie about his age...

    ... And their books let him search for an echo of his Stranger in their lines. He'd keep his distance, he swore. But the loss of the one place he could return to always, the distress of this place being a person-- It had hit him hard.

    ----

    (Or, Hob Gadling learns first hand why you don't impersonate another immortal, the perils of cult mentality, and why calling your Stranger your North Star isn't platonic. Not at all.)

    Language:
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    13/13
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    509
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    08 Jun 2026

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    “You were trying to discourage me… from propositioning you?” Dream repeats, bewildered. 

    Hob sighs, and spreads out his hands. “I think we need a little background, here.” 

    -

    Basically, my 1489-Hob-made-himself-look-unfuckable-on-purpose magnum opus. Inspired by the great Tumblr Hob fuckability debates of 2022.

    Language:
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    1/1
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    06 Jun 2026

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  3. Public Bookmark *

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    "I should have asked you earlier, but I don't suppose you'll still be in town tomorrow?" Hob says. "It'd be lovely to see you again."

    The man truly looks regretful as he says, "We won't."

    It was worth a shot. They hardly know each other. There's no reason for the sick film of disappointment settling over him.

    "Ah, well. I'm happy to have met you anyway," Hob says, subdued.

    "Are you doing anything right now?"

    --

    When incognito rock star Dream of the Endless drifts into Hob Gadling's record store, it's instant attraction. Neither of them expected things to get this serious.

    Series
    Language:
    English
    Words:
    72,075
    Chapters:
    15/15
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    06 Jun 2026

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  4. Public Bookmark *

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    "Yes, exactly. Retire." Aziraphale reaches for the last remaining tartlet brimming with summer berries. "Somewhere along the south coast, perhaps."

    Or: Crowley and Aziraphale learn to move in tandem.

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    1/1
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    31 May 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Crowley hiccups. It turns into a burp. “Angel,” he repeats, and if it sounds soppy, well, what do you expect. Crowley is three winds—sheets—anyway he’s shitfaced. It’s not like Aziraphale doesn’t know Crowley’s in love with him. It’s not like it’s a secret. It’s not like Crowley hasn’t lived with the mortification of being known down to the molecule every day for six thousand years.

    Why is he here again? Oh yes.

    “I need your help.”

    *

    It turns out glitter is miracle-proof and, also, that it itches. Crowley needs some help preening. He gets a bit more than he bargained for.

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    30 May 2026