I Don't Think My Punishment Was The Fall.

I’m so im love with your art style! Can’t stop staring on it, just can’t.

If I haven't loved Crowley yet, I would fall for him right here and right now.

Finally fricking finishing this painting was not intentionally coordinated with recent ~events~ but I will absolutely take it. You can read a little more about my long journey with this painting in the last post. I'm just....really really happy with it. Happy to have worked on it, and happy it's done. Still thinking about a title. ✨PRINTS✨ I'll be doing a Shop Update this Saturday, July 3rd, with: - Open Edition prints - Limited Edition prints, hand-embellished with gold watercolor (details soon) Love you all (and....goes without saying. S2 👏🙌🤩)

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There was someone at the door. 

Not at all unusual for a Tuesday at 9 AM on a busy street in Soho, it was a work day after all, but it was perhaps a bit unusual for him— because he’d been asleep. 

He still was not quite used to the habit of it: the strange languidness of muscles that had lain mostly inert for any number of hours, the peculiar bit of dream sand in the corner of his eyes, the genuinely unholy amount of heat radiating from the body that had been mashed up next to him.  And there was a body— long, lean, twisted into an abstract sculpture in the sheets until only a mussed crop of brilliant red hair poked along the edge of the pillow. 

He still wasn’t used to it. He wasn’t certain if he’d ever be. 

“Crowley,” he whispered, because if there was one thing he was certain of it was that Crowley was not a demon who liked to be woken up. “I have to go downstairs,” he added, because he was also a demon who did not like to wake up alone. 

The sheets shifted, as though a serpent rather than a human was beneath them. 

“It’s too early.”

“It is past 9,” he murmured, tugging on a pair of trousers. “And besides, there is someone ringing the door.”

“I can make them disappear.” 

Aziraphale shrugged into his housecoat, buttoned up his shirt. 

“That won’t do, my dear. We don’t even know who it is.”

A pair of sleepy golden eyes regarded him from the scant light in his bedroom. Opalescent. As if they emitted their own light, or were somehow highly reflective, like a cat’s. 

“Your hair looks like a haystack.”

Aziraphale raised a hand on instinct, to tame it into something professional.

“No,” Crowley said, sitting up. “I like it.”

The sheets flipped back and Crowley was there, beneath them, suddenly and without preamble. And even though Aziraphale had been fully aware of that fact, surely— he had at some point been mashed up against him, many times, in different configurations of sleep— it was still something of a shock. No expensive jacket. No indecently tight denim. Those articles had been hung neatly on the back of a chair, the same chair where his own clothes had spent the night. 

He still wasn’t used to it. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be. 

“You can stay,” Aziraphale said, and hoped that the colour in his cheeks was not wholly visible in this little light. “Go back to sleep.”

But of course Crowley could see in the dark. 

“A stranger comes to the door and you want me to stay in bed? Let you wrestle books out of their hands all on your own? Not a chance.”

He stepped into jeans the colour of shadow, pulled up a shirt from somewhere in the firmament. 

“Let’s go ruin this person’s day.” 

“Fiend,” Aziraphale sighed, beneath his breath, full of fondness. 

“Angel,” Crowley replied, and meant it.

And as their shoulders kissed on the way down the stairs, Aziraphale figured he might not ever get used to it, but he’d be grateful all the same. 

I'm trying so hard. Please use one tag at least 🙏

You have entered the all comfort no hurt zone

Just wanted to draw some action sheets of Aziraphale and Crowley being cute and couple-y!

This is ridiculous, angel. Nonsense. Red is your colour, after all. 

In my country, we have a tradition when some people visit houses to give gifts to children on St. Nicholas day. One of them is dressed up like Saint Nicholas, one as an angel and one as "chort" (aka a devil). Sometimes there are more angels and chorts. As a child, I was always so afraid of the chort that I cried. A lot. He was fcking frightful, all smeared with coal, with horns, black curly hairs, and chains. I was 5.

I like the idea, that Crowley would hand gifts to kids because Crowley loves kids (and he would probably do anything for his angel). And an angel can't be anything else but an angel. Definitely not a devil, don’t be ridiculous Crowley! Also, I believe Adam and the Them would be great chorts.

I had NO IDEA what awaited me after first sight of this. I fell in love with every character, every shot and duck and I started the biggest seeking after book in my language (never happen, never translated, but found in similar language from '97 after 2 months), reading, rewatching, discovering amazing artists and writers, rewatching, rewatching, and finally I was forced to read in English (never do before) script book and wonderful fanfics.  Today, I read stories in English every day. Every day I read comics, every day I find new fanart and every day my heart is filled with love of this two idiots. Thank you, Terry and Neil. Thanks to everyone of the warmest fandom in the world, you are great.

sunday afternoon plans, at the usual spot

prints available here, an addition to my growing GO print roster haha.. i’ll be at rose city comic con in portland with this and a few other pieces on 9/13!

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.

face to face

Jesus, so baaad mouth, I am so ashamed, but it’s my first Crowley’s study (painted in september, exactly at 22:22, magic) and you know, I don't think there are enough of his pictures.