Prpr…pretty Boyss

And it was all yellooooow 💛💛💛💛

A Paper puppet miracle!!You have grasped the essence of good omens!

Good omens paper puppets!

I decided to use my paper doll making skills to make the intro puppets!

Some making of photos and close ups!

Each has about 10 joints from their legs to their wings!

Original: @shencomix

yummy small cute Gif Omg!!!🔥🔥🔥

I animated MANY Good Omens giphy stickers Here's Part 1 of them! You can use em in instagram stories, tiktok stories, etc... Find em' by searching Gomens in gif search

haven't drawn them in a long long time

Happy 35th anniversary to our beloved story, Good Omens! To celebrate, I designed my own logo for the series if it had an animated adaptation.🤍🖤

😇❤️😈

Wet, beautiful, poor watery blue eyes just like the sea that is raining lightly.Don't look at him, or your heart will melt.

just an observation..

I almost dare not watch it a second time, the pictures and lines are so beautiful that they are like smoke that will dissipate at any time🥺😫

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.

oh🥺don't say were

Historians will say they were roommates.

someone help him.