You Can See It, The Look At Love Of His Life.

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

Crowley

Bildad the Shuhite is workin' 9 to 5!

If They Only Knew

If they only knew

How to keep you safe like I kept you

How to speak the words they never used

I wish they only knew

There were three truths that Aziraphale had been taught about demons. Of course, there were far more than three, but seeing as Heaven strived to be concise while maintaining its penchant for symbolism, the list had been broken down into three main concerns.

1.     Demons will do all that they can to spread evil. Demons will destroy all that is good.

2.     Demons do not trust one another. Therefore, you cannot trust a demon.

3.     Demons cannot love.

There was not a pamphlet that had been distributed to the Heavenly Host. These were truths that had been conveyed through countless conversations, side-eyes, implications, subtle jabs, and consistent proclamations of specially selected scripture.

There were truths about angels too. There were truths about angels, but there were also truths about Aziraphale.

There seemed to be an ever-present divide between Aziraphale and the rest of the angels. Where the rest of the Heavenly Host had the ability to carry out their duties based upon adherence to logic and reasoning, Aziraphale was aware that he often allowed his emotions to overtake his better judgement. The angels had made that clear to him. On occasions in which Aziraphale would hazard questions and concerns in Heaven, soaked to the bone with frigid flood waters, ears ringing with cries from The Crucifixion, the angels had been able to carry on, driven by purpose and written resolve. They had assured him. They had known what was best.

In mending his mind, he would use a scrap of his heart, trying not to focus on the ache it left behind.

Aziraphale learned to rely on logic, to fall back on these truths when he felt his heart rush forward. When he felt questions, griefs, desires well up inside of himself, all he could do was step back and address them objectively, lest he do something rash.

For there were truths about angels, and truths about Aziraphale. And if Aziraphale no longer fit these gospels, then what made him any more different than a demon?

There was one problem. Aziraphale had used these pillars of logic to try and hold himself together, using the knowledge of his superiors to remind himself of his place. Of Crowley’s place.

But these angels had never felt hope at seeing a demon in a jail cell. They had never sat close enough to his raucous laughter to notice that he had crow’s feet by golden eyes. They had never heard a broken voice, shaking with something other than the cold, asking over and over for the safety of children.

And as often as Aziraphale reminded himself that Crowley was a demon, there was the growing feeling that he was also a friend. But friendship was a dangerous thing. So Aziraphale did what he could – he reasoned. He built his companionship with Crowley upon the pillars of these truths, and when he felt the all too familiar desire to grow ever closer, he would rip stitching from his heart to sew his mind together again. The fractured pillars were sealed with cement.

But tonight. Tonight, there had been a bombshell. Metaphorically, there had been two.

“These are just a bunch of half-witted Nazis.”

Number 1.

“It’d take a real miracle for my friend and I to survive it.”

Number 2.

“Little demonic miracle of my own.”

Number 3.

“Lift home?”

The pillars collapsed. The last threads of Aziraphale’s heart were torn away. But rather than bleeding out, it was as if a barrier had been removed. These threads had not been sutures, but rather tethers and bindings. After so many years, this fragile thing was finally released.

And love crept forward tentatively.

Keep reading

Holy shit, how beautiful! I love everything about it, colors, texture, light, hands and wings (I have a thing for hands apparently) and the huge amount of details. This is LOVE.

Temptation

Oh my, I don’t believe that it is really going to happen! Sweet Jesus, month ago I finally bought the very oldest Czech version (it’s the only version and after MONTHS of seeking) from bazaar, and guys, in fact, there is not any edition in my native language. Thanks for news! It seems like miracle <3 

Oh dear lord, just found out that the illustrated version is coming out also in Czech, my native language. I already have two Illustrated versions of GO in English and many other ones, and also normal one in Czech. I don’t need this…

I don’t need this.

I don’t need this.

(Perhaps if I keep repeating this it shall come true :D)

Just borrowed ipad, working on a new thing and waiting for a new episode.

I miss drawing. Hopefully I’m back.

‘Guaradians’

It’s been two years since I rebloged a little teaser of my submission for Of Feathers & Wings: A Good Omens Zine. I guess it’s time to post the full picture 😅

Be prepare for soft.

Warlock sends a late-night text to the only person who truly gets him in @siskey 's "Math Trophy"

Download the Above, Below, and the Common Ground Zine for free or with a donation! We're fundraising for the National Network to End Domestic Violence

🌍 https://abczine.gumroad.com/l/zine 🌏

Someone wise once told me that unfinished art is an artform in itself. 

I had started to draw this DTIYS in July and what time is it now? Shame on me, I made any progress till this day but I decided to share it with you nevertheless and because I tried new style and had a GREAT time and… why not? 

I like it in that raw state itself. 

I hope you like it too.

@ran196242 I made it for you, thanks for your astonishing art and comics, you’re doing amazing job ♡ 

P.S. I’d like to think the painter wasn’t eat, none of them. The painting is not finished yet, coz bois do not follow the human time and they like to pose in front of artists. Their love is timeless after all.