Hello! Not The Promised Angst, But I Needed To Cheer Myself Up Today, So Here’s Some Cuteness, A Touch

Angel’s trumpets (Brugmansia) are believed to be extinct in the wild but are commonly seen in gardens and can easily be found at garden centers. Flowers of angel’s trumpets hang down towards the ground, while the blooms on a devil’s trumpet (Datura) are facing the sky. My submissions (and very quickly sketches) for prompt “evening” for @thediwsgreatplan  You can see/read more works on their profile ^^

‘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 more like Aziraphale.

Read books, break the rules and be the bitchiest bastard about it.

…also be kind ✌️

The sun finally setting over the horizon of the Russian River Valley. Oh boy, that fic really hit the spot.

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!

Today is the end of exclusivity of @days-of-their-lives-zine and I can share my short fancomic about Crowley, the softiest of softies. 

When I saw this old olive monster tree, I got the idea of its origin - the olive branch. And who knows which particular creature can helped that little twig to grow its first roots? Because I very much know which one. And I bet one clever angel knew it at spot as well.

Biggest thanks to @elfontheshelves for writting letter from mysterious A. You are my savior! (click for better quality)

Aziraphale very nearly twinkled over his pasta as he licked the final remnants of its rich sauce from the tines of his fork. Enraptured by the flick of his pink tongue, Crowley watched helplessly and feigned boredom.

Across the restaurant, a chair scraped against the tiled floor. Crowley reluctantly looked away from Aziraphale's pleased expression as they both turned toward the clatter. The man at the table slipped from his seat to kneel at his date’s feet, ring in hand. His fingers trembled. The gem sparkled. The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. She nodded frantically and shoved her hand in his direction. Yes! Yes. Of course, yes.

The couple laughed, flustered, as the patrons at other tables and a few pedestrians on the street clapped. Aziraphale joined in. Crowley didn’t.

“How lovely!” Aziraphale smiled, radiating a pure joy Crowley had to squint at even behind his sunglasses.

“He spent all his wages on that little bauble, I’d bet. Bit of a waste.”

“Love is never a waste, my dear.”

Of course Crowley privately agreed. Of course he did. He'd already sacrificed more in the name of love. He was never sure how much Aziraphale understood, but with the secretive, knowing glance he was receiving from across the table, Crowley suspected it was a great deal indeed.

Heart pounding, Crowley flagged a waiter for the dessert menu and sent a bottle of bubbles to the newly engaged couple's table. Aziraphale, now with dessert in sight, grinned impossibly wider, warm as sunshine. Crowley basked, snake that he was.

Just one word: FINALLY

Can’t stop thinking about them and this moment. My heart still singing, my hands shaking, my head empty. Soft soft bois, as I am. And Merry Christmas to everyone!

Chapter 7 of It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine.

He's so beautiful, I want to touch his hair and his delicate hand.

My finest Aziraphale yet. Hopefully this one’s got a whiff of early Sargent... It may serve well as the sort of sombre formal portrait hung in a bookshop to deter customers.

Reblog if you’re 30 or older

This is an experiment to see if there really are as few of us as people think.You can also use this to freak out your followers who think you’re 25 or something. Yay!