Cutie As Hell

Yes, please, thankyouverymuch ♥️

It’s hard to avoid social media of it’s the only way for people to be in contact with others and to watch another content.

leaking spoillers happens all the time, I know, usually I don’t mind, but GO is IMPORTANT for so many people.

Please, be kind to each other

This blog is Good Omens S2 spoiler free.

Reblog to create a safe space.

I KNOW THE FIC AT FIRST SIGHT!

You had no idea but today I read this particular fanfiction and OHHH I feel it in my bones. Gosh, that pose and look in face. AHH

The stem of the wineglass Aziraphale’s hand snaps cleanly in two, but no one seems to hear it—every eye in the room is trained on the redheaded dancer sashaying to the gleaming silver pole, centre stage for all to see.

Oh, Aziraphale thinks faintly. Good lord.

This is a snippet from No Church in the Wild by @contraststudies ! Ever since I came across this story, the imagery captivated mevand I knew I had to illustrate it !!

Bianca, you’re the best and I want you to know how much I appreciate you ❤🧡💛

Full image on my AO3 (now in two colour versions)

I just said, “I’m cold.”

It’s a lovestory ♥️

There’s a way Aziraphale looks sometimes. Crowley has known that look since the very beginning, since the garden. It’s a look he wears when he finds himself a little unmoored, when he finds himself a little directionless. It’s a look he wears when he begins to doubt himself.

He’s wearing it now, sitting across from Crowley, half-drunk on Chateau d’Yquem, paused midway through a ramble on books adapted into films. He blinks at Crowley once, twice; his brow furrows. 

“Angel?” Crowley asks, sitting up. “S’wrong?”

“Do you know,” Aziraphale says, quite wonderingly, “I think I’m an idiot.” 

Crowley can’t help it - he laughs, snorting through his nose. “You’re not,” he says. “You’re the cleverest–the cleverest clever to ever clever.”

“See, that, right there!” Aziraphale says, pointing at Crowley. “That’s it! That’s why I am idiot.”

Crowley laughs harder. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“You!” Aziraphale half-shouts. “You’re in love with me!”

There’s a ringing silence in the bookshop as Crowley’s laugh cuts out. They stare at one another. 

“Fuck’s sake, angel,” Crowley says quietly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sober up.”

There’s a soft shimmer of a miracle being performed, and then they’re still both looking at each other in the silence. Aziraphale’s hands twist and curl together. 

“I’m sorry,” he offers, cringing at himself. “I don’t know–I didn’t know.” 

Crowley heaves himself up off the sofa, gathering up his jacket. “Nothing for you to be sorry for,” he says amicably. “I’ll just, er, see myself out, I think, call it an early night.”

“Wait–” Aziraphale’s hand catches in his elbow, and Crowley can feel him stepping up close behind him, though he doesn’t turn to look. “Wait,” he repeats. His voice is soft, like unbearably tender. Crowley closes his eyes against it. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t tell you,” Crowley says, as calmly as he can. He can feel himself shaking under Aziraphale’s hand, just like one of his plants. “It wasn’t supposed to–it’s not a big deal, angel.”

“It is a big deal,” Aziraphale tells him softly. “Look at me.”

I’m sorry, Aziraphale will say. I didn’t know, he’ll say. It’d be better if you didn’t, he’ll say. Couldn’t you just - miracle it away?

Crowley looks, though. Aziraphale asked him to. Of course he looks. 

There’s a way Aziraphale looks sometimes. It’s a look Crowley’s known since the very beginning, since the garden. It’s a look he wears when he offers a wing to shelter under in a storm. It’s a look he wears when he holds out a hand before the end of the world. It’s a look that looks a lot like love. 

“Leave it,” Crowley says. It’s a demand because he can’t bear for it to be plea. 

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale says again. “I didn’t know. I thought it was just–I thought it was just me.” There’s a wobbly sort of grin spreading across his face. “I thought it was just me, reflecting back. I’m such an idiot.” 

Crowley stares at him. Doesn’t flinch away when Aziraphale touches his cheek. “You mean to say, you–?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says. “How could I not?” 

And it’s true. It’s true because Crowley would feel it, if it were a lie. It’s true because Crowley would see it, if it were a lie. 

It’s true because Aziraphale would never lie to him about love.

“Oh my God,” Crowley says, for the first time in six thousand years. “We’re both bloody idiots.”

It doesn’t matter, not right now. Right now, Aziraphale is kissing him, and Crowley has already spent too much time not kissing him back to worry about it any longer.

Hey, look at there, look! My first entry to a zine, and what a ZINE!

I enjoyed to be part of bunch of great people and working on my piece. It's full of amazing pictures and stories, I can tell you. And I still can't believe I got the chance to be there.

Thanks again for having me ♥️

!!CONTRIBUTOR SPOTLIGHT - SISKEY!!

Here’s a preview of the wonderful art @siskey did for our zine, Ineffable Eras: Blitz 1941!

Pre-orders are open!!

Aziraphale very nearly twinkled over his pasta as he licked the final remnants of its rich sauce from the tines of his fork. Enraptured by the flick of his pink tongue, Crowley watched helplessly and feigned boredom.

Across the restaurant, a chair scraped against the tiled floor. Crowley reluctantly looked away from Aziraphale's pleased expression as they both turned toward the clatter. The man at the table slipped from his seat to kneel at his date’s feet, ring in hand. His fingers trembled. The gem sparkled. The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. She nodded frantically and shoved her hand in his direction. Yes! Yes. Of course, yes.

The couple laughed, flustered, as the patrons at other tables and a few pedestrians on the street clapped. Aziraphale joined in. Crowley didn’t.

“How lovely!” Aziraphale smiled, radiating a pure joy Crowley had to squint at even behind his sunglasses.

“He spent all his wages on that little bauble, I’d bet. Bit of a waste.”

“Love is never a waste, my dear.”

Of course Crowley privately agreed. Of course he did. He'd already sacrificed more in the name of love. He was never sure how much Aziraphale understood, but with the secretive, knowing glance he was receiving from across the table, Crowley suspected it was a great deal indeed.

Heart pounding, Crowley flagged a waiter for the dessert menu and sent a bottle of bubbles to the newly engaged couple's table. Aziraphale, now with dessert in sight, grinned impossibly wider, warm as sunshine. Crowley basked, snake that he was.

Two years ago I sumbitted a few sketches for Good Omens Reverse Bang and had no idea what could come from it. That I could participate on a whole multichaptered story I am imensly proud of? (I'm talkign about Sunshine, don't mind hidden ad) Draw a picture every month? And lastly, most importantly, meet amazing people and make friends? Well, here I am, two years later, joining the Reverse Bang again and being paired with my dear friend and brilliant writer @elfontheshelves again! I would't be happier working with anyone other than you. Thank you for everything ♡ Our latest collab: Questionable home decor or how Crowley's life was turned completely upside down by the appearance of a certain angel back into his life. An angel that had been on his mind for the past, oh so many years.

Below is an original sketch that inspired the story. This is the most detailed sketch I've ever done for the event and completelly redraw it anyway, but I like both. I left the space for third person blank and I let elf to decide who could stand there. Apparently, there were no other option but Aziraphale :D The sketch is based on a photo taken at my friend's wedding I attended with my friend and roomate (we all are very good friends and classmates from high school) this september. Now it's displayed on the fridge in our apartment and I hope it'll stick there for very long time, as long as at Furfur's place.

Do you know that feeling when you are working on some new piece and you are having great time and flow and then you stop (for whatever reason) so you go back to drawing another day but you feel like every new line, stroke of brush is BAD and WRONG and suddenly you hate your work, you close the file and fall into depression and repression and everything. When some time pass (for example a month or in my case a year) you can look again on that piece and you say to yourself: oh, wow, it's still good and I like it and I really could finish it now. Then you open it and froze and think: oh no, I forgot what brushes I used, forgot the idea, my style changed and I am a different person with a different taste and I can't do it, what was I thinking and suddenly you hate it and myself and everything

circle of life

I’m here!

And many many very talented artists and writers!

Made an illustration for beautiful and touching story by @luinlothana Thank you ♥️

It's here! 🌍 The Above, Below, and Common Ground Zine, featuring our fave cast of Good Omens characters, is now available!

Download for FREE or with an optional donation. We are fundraising for the National Network to End Domestic Violence, the leading voice for survivors of domestic violence and their allies.

Gumroad

Above, Below, and the Common Ground Digital Zine

Above, Below, and the Common Ground is a Good Omens digital charity fanzine focused on the amazing characters that inhabit the world of our

Oh my, I love it! I love love love it! (Of course I’m mainly looking on his ass) but I’m wondering, is he holding flaming sword or blowing hellfire? Because I like both. And I very like his wings look like they’re touched by gold ♡ (it would be great stickers if you are asking)

Crowley 🔥