Fallencrow333 - The Sarcastic Poet (So Poetic Mhm Mhm Mhm)

reblog this if you want anonymous opinions of you

I needed draw Bildad the Shuhite ! I'm satisfied now....

@fandomawesomeness OOOO

Yet another pumpkin beret in progress!

Yarn: unknown manufacturer, cotton-blend faux-mohair.

Crochet pattern: Slouchy Pumpkin Beret by Ellen Aria

Chaos Magic is the hardest to learn but the easiest to master. All it requires is the abject belief that your ritual will have an effect, despite all evidence to the contrary, and then it will.

Crow Time - Statue 1

When it rains the white petals of Diphylleia Grayi also known as skeleton flowers, turn crystal clear.

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.

Good Omens 2 + Text Posts

“ ‘Let me help’. A hundred years or so from now, I believe, a famous novelist will write a classic using that theme. He’ll recommend those three words even over ‘I love you’. ” - Star Trek