I Want To Put This Cute Thing On My Walls. Or Package Christmas Presents Into It. Wholesome.

Folks, we are getting a slightly (no fuck Sherlock) heated there. Smutty smutty chapter 8 is waiting on AO3 and you need to read this. You need.  You REALLY do. This is my far more boldly drawing I ever did, but I don’t regret anything! I have a great time to work on this particular piece and this amazing fic would be updated much sooner, because elf wrote it ages ago and I read it that day and did a sketch, but you know, sometimes stuffs happen.

The rest of pict you can find in fic (no nudes, I promise), though everybody knows this was going to happen I don't want to take all the fun of reading ♡

As of today 14028 Aziraphale/Crowley fanfics have been posted on ao3 since the release of season two

Which means that on average 77.5 fanfics are being published per day

That’s 3.23 fanfics per hour

0.05 fanfics per minute

So in conclusion:

Every twenty minutes a new Aziraphale/Crowley fanfic is being written

It must be a good omen!

(yeah, different model, I know, but it’s prbly the closest thing I ever see with my own eyes)

HOLY CRAP, this is fucking masterpiece! This animatic must have taken you such a long time. I can't imagine how much work is involved in. Such a beautiful colors, illustrations, motion, lyrics, my God, whole amazing artstyle, everything.

Never see something like that before.

so i started this in august and at this point im not sure i’ll ever finish it, even though i’ve storyboarded the whole thing already ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

He is.

I just think he’s neat

Heya! Here is my second contribution to Reverse Bang! It was an amazing journey and I’m so so so SO happy and grateful for @zadusk to give my art chance and wrote what they wrote. We will post at Monday 15th (I add the link to AO3 later) and you are all welcomed to read first chapter of In My Veins.

Andrew Belle is very recommended to listen.

I still don't believe they did it. 

We made a little thing, to celebrate 30 years of Good Omens, and to cheer people up. I hope you like it. Feel free to reblog...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=quSXoj8Kob0&feature=youtu.be

You remember how I told everyone the plot of Season 2 before it aired?

(Everyone tries to remember and then shakes their heads.)

That's right. I didn't. I spent several years going "wait and see". And you waited and you saw.

I'm not going to reveal any of the plot of Season 3, either. So there's really no point in asking me to make things happen, or to tell me what you do or you don't want to happen. I'm not going to.

A Good Day

by Kait Rokowski

Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries, took the bus home, carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment and cooked myself dinner. You and I may have different definitions of a good day. This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill, worked 60 hours between my two jobs, only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks and slept like a rock. Flossed in the morning, locked my door, and remembered to buy eggs. My mother is proud of me. It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course. She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale” with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs” But she is proud. See, she remembers what came before this. The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles, how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks. She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide. These were the bad days. My life was a gift that I wanted to return. My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs. Depression, is a good lover. So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you. And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world, That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting. It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created. Today, I slept in until 10, cleaned every dish I own, fought with the bank, took care of paperwork. You and I might have different definitions of adulthood. I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college, but I don’t speak for others anymore, and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for. And my mother is proud of me. I burned down a house of depression, I painted over murals of greyscale, and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live But today, I want to live. I didn’t salivate over sharp knives, or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge. I just cleaned my bathroom, did the laundry, called my brother. Told him, “it was a good day.”

Among the stars you are the brightest.

You can support my Patreon http://www.patreon.com/ThistleArts

and get acess to NSWF arts without censorship and my WIPS  and othercool stuff.

And you can also buy some of my art printsin my Etsy store

https://www.etsy.com/shop/ThistleArtsStudio?ref=seller-platform-mcnav