Latest Posts by siskey - Page 6

Yes, they are. And think about next WHOLE F*CKING YEAR OF NEW FICS OHMYGOD

same energy

Guys, do you know what I didn’t this year? These lovely dtiys. I didn’t finish them because a) I am slug and b) if I haven’t finished one drawing til one week, I never return back to. One or two of them are from previous year, I think. Oh my, I’m such a mess. 

Wish you Happy(er) New Year! /and more finished projects to me haha/

Art belongs to amazing @whiteleyfoster @ovfanart @ami-v-dragnire​ and birbteef

How does reading about the same two fuckers falling in love over and over again make a person so goddamn happy.

Warm up folks!

So as part of my push to fill the world with soft fluff while we all need it, @sparkkeyper requested Aziraphale warming up a cold Crowley. And, well, things got a little out of hand with this bit of hurt/comfort. Also fills the @bingokisses prompt for “Brush of Lips, Almost-There Kiss/Bridal Carry” so that’s exciting!

Not clearly established, but this fic is just-barely-pre Arrangement.

“If that’s the way you feel,” Aziraphale said, hand on the door to his one-room hut, “then I suggest you leave, and find some other angel to bother with your nonsense.

“Good! Maybe I can find one who isn’t a self-righteous prick.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” the apology dripped with sarcasm, “that I choose not to blindly trust a devious…manipulative…snake.”

The words hit like a physical blow. Crowley sucked in a breath, tasting a hint of frost in the late-autumn air. “Fine,” he growled, turning away. He’d have to walk through the night to get back to London, but at just that moment he felt angry enough to march all the way to China and back. “Good riddance,” he snapped from the gate around the little garden, but Aziraphale had already shut the door.

–

Keep reading

They wrote love letters to each other for sure (for centuries).

Message. On the eve of the meeting.

😇😈

Ineffable wives in the 19th century (if something from the image does not correspond to the time frame, then do not hit me). And also my frolic. Angel's dress has a hint of Crowley's clothes and vice versa. And also their brooches. I really like the idea that their brooches are based on each other's feathers. And this work took a lot of effort. I loved its very much and I hope you will like it too!♥️

Draw me like one of your ineffable husbands.

Regency Aziraphale and Crowley in the style of Ingres’s portrait drawings.

I remember copying Ingres at school was gruelling but equally rewarding. It usually involved hours at the Met drawing room with a magnifier. Each one of his lines is expressive, and every edge is finely controlled. An Ingres copy wouldn’t have the feel of the original at all if it’s not done this carefully with a SHAAARP pencil on very smooth paper. (Ironically, not Ingres paper...)

I took out the same magnifier and all the Ingres catalogues I could find at my place for this drawing too... The struggle is real (?)

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 Crowley-staring-into-stars-on-his-ship-called-Bentley idea was haunting me for last days.

He's a pirate, a very bad pirate, who saves drowning kids and falling angels from the sea. And his stars will always lead him on the sail.

(Anathema included, because she is a witch AND pirate girl and nobody can change my mind)

(what does the wheel look like omg)

I wouldn't say it better, thank you I'm going to be sentimental. Thanks to everyone from the kindest fandom I ever be part of, you're making amazing job.

When I read fanfiction or look at art, I fall in love again and again in so so many ways with them. Every. Damn. Time.

I've seen lots of fans remark on how wonderful it is that the Good Omens fandom leaves space for such diverse interpretations of the characters and story. So many of us find different ways to see ourselves in Aziraphale and Crowley, whether that's our identities or experiences or interests...

But for me this goes beyond just having space for different fans' preferences. What amazes me about this fandom is that I adore and resonate with so many seemingly conflicting interpretations of Aziraphale and Crowley's story, and I think lots of others do too. I'll read a fic in which they've been together romantically for 6000 years and it makes as much sense to me as one in which they get together after thwarting the apocalypse, and of course I'll love a queer platonic take on their relationship just as much. I read fics in which they are asexual and I'm like "yeah, exactly!" on the same day that I'll savor a tender and sexy PWP fic. I've read and seen them portrayed as every experience of gender identity and been like "yup, that's them (and I see myself in that too)". I've read different takes on how they experience human mental health or neurodiversity and they all resonate. I've read fics where Aziraphale's kisses burn like holy water and I'm thinking, "of course that is what would happen"; fics where angel kisses turn to freckles ("obviously"); then I'll read a different interpretation where kisses are just soft and human and that makes perfect sense too.

What's amazing about this experience is that I don't recall feeling this way about previous fandoms and ships. With other ships I tended to have a singular narrative in my head about "how it would be", and beyond AUs I felt like the fandom kind of did too. Maybe that's because I'm older now, but I don't think it's just my age... this fandom is fundamentally queerer and more pluralistic.

The way that the Good Omens fandom invites us all to hold multiple different headcanons and interpretations without them feeling "conflicting" is amazing. It's a beautiful expression of plurality, empathy, and fluidity that itself reflects a rather queer and feminist way of seeing the world. And that's lovely. What if we saw more of the real world that way, with room for gray area and nuance? Letting two conflicting things be true at once, just like Crowley and Aziraphale integrate darkness/light? Like them, we're conditioned to think about binary options and "two sides". Like them, we can inspire each other to see life more fluidly than that, while also taking a firm stand for something we believe in.

WHAT THE HECK - this is so so so Crowley and beautiful and I want to hug him. And touch his hair.

the pensive snek

what is he thinking about?

Could someome make me tea, please?

It’s midnight.

They’re on the steps of the Ritz, and the moon is full, and a nightingale had sung in Berkeley Square. The air is fresh, crisp, soft, right after a quick rain, and they’re both looking at the Bentley, which is parked across the street without a droplet

They realize that there isn’t a car puttering across otherwise, that it’s quiet, that they are the last to leave the establishment after getting totally and utterly sloshed in the name of the world not ending.

Then they’re looking at each other. The golden light coming from the windows is spraying across Aziraphale’s pink face, and he’s smiling, and Crowley is smiling right back. They are a couple of drunk morons standing outside in the twilight, basking in each other’s company.

Is this not love?

“Need a lift?” Crowley asks this partly as an inside joke, partly as a literal inquiry; there’s something very slightly pained in his voice - an expectation. An expectation that this night would end as any other would between them: with Crowley sprawled across his own bed, in the dark, lamenting what he did and did not say, and Aziraphale awake all night, curled up with a book he pretends he is reading.

It’s fear, not pain. That nothing would change. Or rather - that they wouldn’t know that nothing had changed.

Now, Aziraphale is drunk, yes. But he is not drunk enough to note the slight panic Crowley is masking, and his smile is even pretty as it fades to something still warm, but serious.

“My dear…”

Crowley feels a lump in his throat, and tries to remember if he thoroughly chewed what little food he had had this evening.

They’re staring at each other. They’re looking at each other and seeing each other, even past Crowley’s glasses. Because the golden glow from behind just barely renders them useless, and matches his eyes just so.

“Where are you?” Aziraphale whispers.

“-What?” Something high-pitched, surprised.

“Where are you, dear? Are you with me? Here? Now?”

“What kind of a- yes- yes of course, where else would I be?”

“Because- dear- I… I would like to hold your hand.”

The request catches Crowley off-guard; he’s halfway thinking through a clever comeback to whatever Aziraphale would have said next when suddenly, his heart aches, and he’s forced to acknowledge what he hopes is the outcome of the evening. And he’s not talking about sharing a bed - no.

Suddenly, he’s flustered about their hands, touching, and he knows he wouldn’t be able to make that leap even if he wanted to, not yet. No, he’s suddenly shivering, vibrating, with eyes darting to his angel’s outstretched hand.

Stupid, stupid, you’re fucking up, oh fuck-

So he jerks his body into motion, looking like he was just struck by lightning, and breathes out into the crackling air to carefully - carefully - press his left hand to Aziraphale’s, fingertips to wrist, palm to palm. His own is smooth, bony, cold, but it feels like he had just rested it on warmed silk. Soft, broad, welcoming.

They’re standing there. They’re staring at each other. They’re staring at their hands, at their ring fingers pressed side by side, imagining what it would be like to have matching bands clink together every time they did this hereafter. To be known this intimately, to know the lines of each other’s palms without practicing, is a gift both of them can give.

Crowley is the first to move; he caressed his thumb across Aziraphale’s, finds a pliant joint that folds around his fingers, welcomes him against his skin, against his body.

“We’re holding hands…” he murmurs, is greeted by the return of that angelic smile.

“That we are, darling.”

Now, it feels as if his heart has stopped completely. A heat creeps up from his chest to the tips of his ears, and gathers in his cheeks.

Suddenly, he is home. And he knows that everything - and nothing, thankfully - has changed.

“Walk me home now, dear. I’ll make us some tea.”

The happiest drunk smiles of the Earth.

had one too many bottles of wine 🍷

#joined in staring at it

Croweeely

I almost discorporate! Holy sunset, it marvelous piece of beautiful idiots 🙏

@idonotknowhowtonamemyblog send me a photo of a beautiful sunset and kindly let me incorporate it into this piece!

I did it! I didn’t believe it (and in myself), but I did second DTIYS and I have an odd feeling that Aziraphale looks a little dead, but he is not! He’s just exhausted. Little bit of stardust, old gods and two lovers, because I can’t draw anything else. Big thanks to @ran196242 for an amazing piece. You make astounding job and I absolutely love your artstyle and comics! Hurry up to read them, guys!!

They said a bottle of wine a day is not bad, so I bought a very fancy bottle today (by accident, wrong price tag, wrong bottle) and opened for celebrating and it was so gooood! Happy Azirafeast!

(just a messy sketch today)

It's still funny to me whenever people ask me what types of books I like to read. Like do you really want to know about a roommate au fanfic where they fall in love in less than a month and fuck on the kitchen table?? Or are you just making small talk, Bridget?

You got me!

All I can see are two dorks dancing at the bandstand in Loosely Ballroom, don’t you think @mortifyingideal ?

paint me like one of your studio ghibli background sceneries

Ideal time to change wallpaper on my phone! Thank you again <3  Turning off the alarm never seemed more appealing.

Ineffable Wives Exchange Gift for @freyjawriter24 ! Hope you like it! I kinda smashed all the prompts together <3

prompt: hair, stars, safety/protection

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event hosted by @ineffable-wives-central

This is so f*cking good. I have no words for describing how much I adore it.

Crowley

That terrifing moment you see an amazing art/fic, immediately and subconsciously like it, then realize you already liked them so this little heart is breaking apart (and yours too) and you stop breathing, hit the like button again and hope the artist never notice.

When Pandora’s box has opened.

Today my favourite class (yezzz, bad teacher who has their fav students) told me they join to our next online lesson in halloween costumes because of lockdown! These kids are so f*cking amazing and I love them! 

My first attempt was my selfportrait in a reverse Azira’s costume but then I added the beard and change the hair color and he was far far better than me. He is something between a vampire, gothic and dandy man, I haven’t decide yet. Two things he never take off - his skirt with long ruffle sleeves, tartan skirt of course, and the red bow. 

Don’t know why but I always start drawing the demon except today. It’s cold outside but he looks warm and happy, doesn’t he? 

Crowley is around, don’t worry, I just want to share my joy ^^

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.

It seems like I can try to do gotober this year! Almost. Didn't make day 2, but hope never dies.

I really enjoyed drawing with gotober promlist by tinwelint and sugarsky except of Crowley, who always managed to sneak around angel. I don't know what to do with this wily serpent. He can't be without his angel, obviously.

...but Aziraphale was trying to be a bitch. He was trying to be the bitchiest bitch that ever bitched about bitches. (quote by @millerizo)

Sorry for bitches.

Good Omens - Fanart

I couldn't resist the temptation.

So in love with new art by @gingerhaole !! I didn’t draw famous Spooky one and now I'm asking myself whyyy 😭 I regret all my life decisions.

(sixth unfinished dtiys, god bless me)