Latest Posts by siskey - Page 5

A bit later art for Chapter 2  of wonderful fic In My Veins by @zadusk​​

Or do you wanna cry? Have you cry enought this day? Go, let them tear and go read (if you have’t yet), please. I love every word, every chapter (it’s complete!) and it truly deserves more attention.

We all live for his hair.

I love this scene. I live for Crowleys hair. And aziraphales hat.

Speedpaint on insta: laloom0

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.

These yellow eyes will hunt me for a days.

I haven't read it yet, but I can say it would be the great manifest of two amazing creators. I am on my way babe.

Chapter two of @naromoreau and stevie's Noir au is up!

I've done 4 pieces for this one, the other three are embedded in the fic. Mind the tags.

This is extremely cute and adorable! I love that Crowley just gave up and sulks in the snow with apparently too much scarfs.

OH I GUESS I CAN POST THIS NOW here’s my piece for @itsagoodomenszine, which I also did some design work for! It’s hard to have fun in the snow when you are a large snake who can’t thermoregulate but sometimes you gotta tough it out for the love of ya life

(leftover sales of the zine & merch are currently open here if you want to check it out! I also have prints of this piece in my shop ✨)

Ineffable Wives

Don't ever hesitate. Reblog this. This should be in the tumblr laws. When you see it, REBLOG IT.

Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433

LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255

Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438

Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673

Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272

Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000

Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253

If you ever want to talk: My tumblr ask is always open.

i wouldn’t fall for someone i thought couldn’t misbehave

Happy Bunnies to everyone!

Happy Easter from these two lovebuns!

Keep reading

I Have PMDD/PME

It is PMDD Awareness Month. I’ve pledged to do what I can to spread awareness because I, myself, suffer from it and wish I had known sooner.

My symptoms drastically worsened a year after I had my daughter, Luna.

It was my husband, Tim, who brought this disorder to my attention. He believed me, did not dismiss me, and took the time to research on my behalf during a time that I felt hopeless and incapable of doing normal daily activities. And, yes, during a time where words like “I want to die” would come tumbling out of my mouth.

Please read on, and save someone’s life just by bringing this disorder to their attention.

Knowing about PMDD has changed my life for the better. I’m still struggling, but with therapy and medication, I finally feel like I have a piece of my old self back.

PMDD stands for Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. And those with underlying mental health issues, may suffer from PME (Pre-menstrual Exacerbation).

All through my menstruating years, I was told that my PMS symptoms were normal. This meant that my symptoms were swept under the rug and dismissed by others and myself.

PMDD is NOT PMS.

PMDD is NOT a hormone imbalance.

PMDD IS “a cyclical, hormone-based mood disorder with symptoms arising during the premenstrual, or luteal phase of the menstrual cycle... It affects an estimated 5.5% of women and AFAB individuals of reproductive age.

PMDD IS a severe negative reaction in the brain to the natural rise and fall of estrogen and progesterone. It is a suspected cellular disorder in the brain. Symptoms can worsen over time and or around reproductive events such as menarche (the first menstrual cycle), pregnancy, birth, miscarriage, and perimenopause.

Those with PMDD are at increased risk for suicide and suicidal behavior.” - IamPMD.org

I implore everyone to go to the website above and take a self screening test, even if it’s on behalf of a loved one.

I can’t stress enough how important it is. Someone you love right now could be in such a state of hopelessness and ready to do whatever it takes to end it.

The next time you think your daughter or your wife or your sister or a friend is being “over emotional, overdramatic, ‘just’ PMSing,” please think twice and check in with them. Really check in with them, because what you see on the surface is nothing compared to what that person is suffering within.

Go to https://iapmd.org to learn more.

Look at that masterpiece, please.

My huge Good Omens poster artwork, inspired by Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here album cover.

Hey, look at there, look! My first entry to a zine, and what a ZINE!

I enjoyed to be part of bunch of great people and working on my piece. It's full of amazing pictures and stories, I can tell you. And I still can't believe I got the chance to be there.

Thanks again for having me ♥️

!!CONTRIBUTOR SPOTLIGHT - SISKEY!!

Here’s a preview of the wonderful art @siskey did for our zine, Ineffable Eras: Blitz 1941!

Pre-orders are open!!

I think people need to understand that part of living a healthy life is having different people who understand different parts of you, so that you don't overwhelm your friends and expect too much of them, or ignore valuable relationships because they feel "incomplete".

We all want to be fully seen and understood, but it's not shallow or meaningless to just have a pal you talk about TV shows with who isn't also, like, your platonic soulmate. That's still your friend! You still enhance each other's lives with your company. Not everything that matters is profound.

I think a lot of you are lonely because you're waiting around for someone who sees into your soul instead of just plain old lookin' at the people in your life, finding common ground, and planting a little garden there. Even if that garden only grows Star Trek fan theories and memes, it's still good.

It just... makes me real sad that you guys can't imagine a friendship where you don't talk about sex and trauma constantly, or that you think these are prerequisites for "real" friendship. Like, it legitimately breaks my heart.

Chapter 4 is on the air and good night storytelling can start!

I can’t help myself, I love these two so so much (Dog as well) and their soft moments. Send love and kudos to my dear @elfontheshelves, the author of this fic and my best muse.

Yeah, I gave up to draw all stars on the bed sheets.

Hey, I did art for Chapter 3 of It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine and forgot to post it! Two weeks ago guys, so I hope you already have read it, but if not, please consider to change your mind and read it. Now. A little less fluffy chapter, but I can’t spoiler ;) Look at fussy angel and Warlock the hellspawn - he walks in his father shoes, don’t you think? And @elfontheshelves is going to post next chapater on this Friday! Yay!

Hello! Not the promised angst, but I needed to cheer myself up today, so here’s some cuteness, a touch of emotional hurt, and a soft ending.

(CW for discussion of drunken shenanigans, after the fact, extremely mild.)

–

The moment Crowley woke up, he knew something was wrong.

Even with his eyes closed – the room smelled too dusty, the air too dry. The pillows were too soft, the sheets nowhere near Egyptian cotton, and he was burrowed under a blanket that was thicker and heavier than anything he owned. It was comfortable, but it was wrong.

There was also someone moving nearby, footsteps treading softly near the bed.

Old instincts activated, bringing him from drowsy to alert in less than a second, without changing his posture in any way. Let the intruder think he still slept. He pictured the layout of his room, the distance to the door, the exact spot of the fancy lamp on his bedside table. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it should buy time. He’d need to roll over, it was behind him, and from the sound of it the intruder was…inside…the wall?

Pressing his face into the pillow, Crowley slowly cracked open one eye.

The wall was much farther away than he remembered, and the room much brighter, and filled with bookshelves, and…

“For Ssssssomeone’s sake, Angel,” he groaned, sitting up. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Aziraphale turned from where he was sliding books onto a shelf, blinking innocently. “I’m terribly sorry, did I wake you?”

Weiterlesen

Hi there!

The best thing about Reverse Bang is the opportunity of catching sight of writer’s wips or whole bloody chapter ahead!  When I read the little of second chapter first, I was completely done (still I am) and I got a fit of inspiration by one particular scene. There they are, our favourite ineffable idiots. I love them and so do you.

Chapter 2 of It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine by amazing @elfontheshelves 

anyway sure sure we laugh but they really did spend six thousand years in love and terrified about it and i think in the post-armageddon world like. the absence of terror is the terrifying thing. having spent so long looking over each shoulder and slipping past each other in the dark, trying to find each other now in the light–how unsettling that must be.

how devastatingly difficult that must be. 

to reach for his hand and have to remind each other that it’s okay. to lead each other through the first stumbling paces of a slow dance and have to take a breather to swallow back the panic. it’s okay, they tell each other, again and again, trembling fingers on pale faces. it’s okay.

but even immortal beings change and grow and learn, and there is hope here, in this repetition, in this reassurance. it’s okay, it’s okay. crowley initiates a hand-hold one late april night, slipping his hand over aziraphale’s on the table, and aziraphale does not take his hand away. it’s okay, it’s okay. aziraphale sits next to crowley on the sofa one mid-june morning, handing him a cup of coffee, and crowley leans in against him. it’s okay, it’s okay. in september they kiss, all gasping breath and brushing lips, but neither of them draws away.

i love you, aziraphale says, in december. he says it quietly, but not because he’s afraid of who might hear. he says it gently, because crowley needs gentle things still, sometimes. after lifetimes and lifetimes of fear and hurt and ragged optimism, crowley deserves gentle things sometimes.

crowley is quiet for a long time, swirling the wine in his glass. then he sets the glass aside, takes off his sunglasses, and looks at aziraphale with wet eyes. do you ever miss heaven? he asks.

aziraphale shakes his head. no.

do you regret what happened? crowley presses. do you ever think about going back?

no, aziraphale answers.

if i—if i didn’t love you back, he says, choking on the words a little, would you go back to them?

aziraphale sets his glass aside too, and gets to his knees in front of crowley, taking his hands, pressing his lips to the knuckles. no, he says. if you had your choice, heaven or hell, where would you be, crowley?

with you, crowley says instantly.

so why is it so very hard to believe the same of me? that i would choose you? aziraphale cups one hand to crowley’s cheek. i am not giving up anything by loving you, dear boy. i am finding what i have wanted to find for a very long time.

and if they come for us again? he asks. he’s pressing his cheek hard into aziraphale’s hand though, and aziraphale leans in to press their foreheads together.

then we face them side-by-side. i love you. aziraphale is so close now he can feel the shudder in crowley’s breath when he says it. i love you. i am not afraid.

it’s crowley who closes the distance, who presses in, his mouth hot and desperate and seeking. it’s crowley who slides his arms around aziraphale’s neck, pulling him closer. it’s crowley who makes the noise deep in his throat, the noise it makes when something breaks free: longing, maybe, and hope, and something like belief—faith, not in a higher authority or an ineffable plan, but just in this, here, in them, in crowley&aziraphale, aziraphale-and-crowley, in their heartbeats crashing together and their hands pressed palm to palm.

aziraphale holds him, kisses him back and holds him, stroking soothing paths down his ribs and up his spine. it’s okay, he whispers, taking each biting kiss and turning into a tenderness between them. it’s okay, it’s okay.

crowley kisses him one more time, and it’s slow, this time, and soft, as if he’s finally found the calm in the center of him. as if aziraphale has soothed the shaking out of his limbs and steadied the ground inside his mind. he presses his cheek to aziraphale’s cheek and just listens to him for a moment: the rhythm of his breath, the shift of his clothing. the whisper of his eyes opening and closing, lashes against lashes. the drum of his heart.

i love you, crowley says.

he says it quietly, but not because he’s afraid of who might hear. he says it gently, because aziraphale needs gentle things, sometimes, even if he doesn’t say so. after lifetimes and lifetimes of fear and hurt and ragged faith, aziraphale deserves gentle things sometimes.

he says, i love you, and he knows it’s going to be okay.

it’s okay, it’s okay. it’s okay.

i love you. it’s okay.

Heya! Here is my second contribution to Reverse Bang! It was an amazing journey and I’m so so so SO happy and grateful for @zadusk to give my art chance and wrote what they wrote. We will post at Monday 15th (I add the link to AO3 later) and you are all welcomed to read first chapter of In My Veins.

Andrew Belle is very recommended to listen.

Anathema's coming to Tadfield

Hey so here is a cute cat omens video I’ve been working on the past few weeks…

I KNOW THE FIC AT FIRST SIGHT!

You had no idea but today I read this particular fanfiction and OHHH I feel it in my bones. Gosh, that pose and look in face. AHH

The stem of the wineglass Aziraphale’s hand snaps cleanly in two, but no one seems to hear it—every eye in the room is trained on the redheaded dancer sashaying to the gleaming silver pole, centre stage for all to see.

Oh, Aziraphale thinks faintly. Good lord.

This is a snippet from No Church in the Wild by @contraststudies ! Ever since I came across this story, the imagery captivated mevand I knew I had to illustrate it !!

Bianca, you’re the best and I want you to know how much I appreciate you ❤🧡💛

Full image on my AO3 (now in two colour versions)

Hello, I have to accomplish my duty and join to the Book Omens Week!

And also figure out their look, because... I watched the TV series firstly, then read book and I must to admit I was (and still I am) so impacted by David and Michael and drawings by other artist that I wasn't sure I could draw my own version for a while. Well, so I have started and drawn til they look like this. Surprisingly it didn’t take me so much time as I expected and I love them already.

BW version, because don’t force me to decide what color Crowley’s hair is

i just fell in love for this artist. it’s so dynamic … [Darya Guryeva]

Hello people! One very talented writer and my triviality was paired by Reverse Bang by @do-it-with-style-events​ and she wrote an amazing fic you want to read!  And also I did the art. Look, there is Chapter 1! I’m the happiest person to work with @elfontheshelves, she is super sweet and she made other great, if not more scrumptious, fics on AO3!

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

I just said, “I’m cold.”

Oh my God, you're so gooood and talented artist! I don't even know which one of your drawings I like the most.

Hellfire

(I started to hate this half way through so I left it super sketchy and played around with the colors a lot lol)

Such an amazing energy, oh I want to draw like this.

Pulled out various traditional media and felt Good Omens in this chili’s tonight.

“The point I’m trying to make,” he said, brightening, “is the dolphins. That’s my point.” 

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