Someone Recently Retweeted/reposted Michael Sheen’s Fandom Post From New Years Eve 2019. And I Just

Freedom to Love

sequel to this art i made a few months back

🪽

he fall on my demon till i disgrace

we could go for a picnic

infatuation makes your heart race love is quiet. love sets you at ease.

and because most of my pieces are mental screenshots of little scenes in my head, here's the scene:

Crowley was tugged into consciousness bit by bit. The afternoon light slowly filtered in, as well as the hum of music from the other room and the weird angle his neck was at. He was warm and content and wanted to sink back into his nap, but the threads of sleep fluttered away the more he tried. Finally, he took a deeper breath, shifting in the armchair, and cracked an eye open just a sliver. There he was, the angel, sitting at his desk. Had hardly noticed Crowley was awake, engulfed in his task of retouching a damaged page. Looking at his hands, Crowley became aware of the fuzzy warmth covering his own and peeked down to see a blanket tucked around his shoulders.

The feeling hit him so hard he let his head loll to the side, eyes closed. His chest tightened and he just…buckled. Finally came undone under the weight of his love for Aziraphale. Its inexorable, steadfast pull which he had been pushing back against for millennia, it had finally caught him off guard, sleepy and vulnerable and so tired from holding back, from refusing to name it. It was a quiet surrender. Crowley looked back at Aziraphale with the understanding of a man meeting his end and embracing it.

Perhaps he could gently pull the blanket to the side and get up. Perhaps he could cross the few steps to the desk and place a freshly made cup of tea to Aziraphale’s right. Perhaps he would hold his gaze, for longer than needed to answer “Don’t mention it”. Perhaps he would ask him if he would like a scone with that. Perhaps Aziraphale would understand that this was not about the scone at all. And yet, what Crowley was asking of him was also exactly about scones. And tea. And quiet afternoons together. Perhaps the angel would finally put down his sword, too, and the world would let out a breath it had been holding for millennia.

the soulmate to this piece, i guess.

Please, let him be soft.  Credit: Pencap

This is how I imagine the last scene of Season 3🥹🩷✨

• To the World •

I love them. Too much.

🩷

Couldn't hurt to have company, I suppose...

Part 5/5 (Parts 1-5 are on my page! Please check them out under the tag #hereditary enemies)

Support this comic by buying me a coffee hot chocolate on Ko-fi! Link in Bio!

My first angsty Good Omens comic is complete! Thank you all SO much for reading this comic and keep your eyes out for my next one coming soon! 💙

A movement launched by French illustrators to fight the new obsession with chatgpt-generated "starter packs" made me want to join their fight.

Because every day, AI steals, destroys, and makes artists invisible.

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Because big brands like Ikea have appropriated this prompt instead of paying a designer.

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Article reference

everything u need to know about me can actually be explained by the fact that i read that poem about the serving girl wearing the pearls so they're warm for her mistress when i was like 11 and it rewrote my brain chemistry forever

like this Changed Me