OP These Are So Soft And Pretty And Lovely I Could Spontaneously Combust. 🔥🔥🔥

with a name like that, i don't know what he expected

Me following Tawny around gathering art ideas while she writes unreasonably good witchy smut.

CAN CONFIRM, BELTANE SEX POLLEN COLLAB WIP

Hi! Popping here because I want to know what do you do with your hands ;)

So, my word for the wip sentence game is 'hands'!

Oh, good word. Thank you for asking. From the latest wip doc I opened which is currently called 'Beltane Sex Pollen Fic' and a collab with the very talented @quona

"Let me." Crowley's hands were gentle as they pulled Aziraphale's shirt from the waistband of his trousers.

lines to "cel shade," or really more like a fancy base color

and now we paint

Scaling New Heights 🏰Towerziraphale & 🐉Dragon/Snek Crowley! --- --- ---

This is my piece for @contritecactite's FANTASTICALLY WEIRD AND WONDERFUL fic, Scaling New Heights (Explicit; AO3) in the GO Fairytale Bang!

In the story, Aziraphale is a sentient magical tower, and Crowley is a middling nobleman who is cursed, on the run, and in desperate need of shelter.

I decided to illustrate the very first scene where Crowley, unwillingly in snake form (that's the curse!), finds a lonely tower in the middle of a field with a window slightly ajar, and decides to slither on up.

If he’d heard three days ago that there would be a coup, he wouldn’t even have thought himself important enough to chase, but here he is, running through the woods and trying desperately to keep ahead of his pursuers. Red hair had never seemed like much of a blessing until now, but the gloaming and the autumn foliage work well together to keep him obscured when he stops to breathe. He can still hear them, not far behind, and he knows he has to keep moving. He’s not running for very long, though, before the foliage runs out and he finds himself exposed in a massive meadow. The expanse is surely too long to cross. His fear, previously calmed to a dull roar, flares up at the realization that he’ll be caught, and then he is no longer running but slithering. There’s nowhere to go. There is low grass as far as he can see. He can’t hear the crowd behind him, but the ground shakes with their footsteps. They can surely see him, a massive dark shape caught in the rising moonlight. He changes direction, hoping they’ll all just keep going in a straight line, and then he sees it: a tall tower half-covered in vines. His body seems to carry him there instinctively, and once he’s circled the tower, the only way he sees to go is up. He finds the side that, as far as he can tell, is the farthest from where he started, and he begins his clumsy, wobbling climb up the rough brick. His haste makes it chafe against his sensitive belly, and he has to remind himself to keep going every time he realizes he’s left the ground entirely—how do snakes even work? He’d have paid more attention to them if he’d known he’d be in this position someday—but he makes it to an open window and slithers inside. He drapes himself across the cool floor, exhausted. Just as he begins to fall asleep, he feels his body change back to its usual form, and he hears someone tut at him. “Silly creature. I do have a front door, you know.” Scaling New Heights (Explicit; AO3)

of fire and falcons - aziraphale (aka falconer daddy beardziraphale) --------------------------------- OH HO! I finally finished one of the full character portraits for @cemeteryangel725's lovely Renaissance Faire AU fic, Of Fire and Falcons (rated E on AO3, mind the tags!), for which I also did this cover art, which you may recall:

full res detail shots below the jumppppppp

BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY LOOK AT THIS TATTOO I DREW

I went on Accutane in my 20s to try to straighten out my skin, to some success, but my skin IRL will never look like the faces I (currently) paint, no matter what I do. It's inspiring to see an artist I admire---I've been gleefully in love with Loish's work since the olden days of deviantart---out there doing the thing with their art.

Story time: I’ve had acne since I was 11. I inherited it from my dad. After almost 25 years of taking hormones to treat it, I went off the pill last year because I was tired of the side effects. The acne came back, and even though I had prepared myself for that beforehand, it’s still really challenging. I can’t help but feel a sense of shame when my skin breaks out. At the same time, I would never judge anybody else for having blemishes. Skin texture is such a complicated thing and I have so many emotions around it. So here are some drawings of pretty girls with blemishes - it helps me process some of these complicated feelings. And hugs to all of you who also suffer from skin problems - you’re not alone! 

Part 9! Smugziraphale doesn't know what he's getting into.

The illustrated smutty one-shot continues. Part 7 of who-the-fuck-knows-anymore. A flashback begins to explain how Az got himself into this situation.

Have the whole panel, Tumblr, as a treat.

Catch the rest on my Patreon, for the NSF+ Tiers.

Crowley be like "I'm finna ruin this man's whole life."

OP these poses give me life.

together, soft, shining ✨

Here are the Sargent portraits that I referenced so that you can see where I drew inspiration for this piece!

Mrs. Hugh Hammersley, John Singer Sargent (1892)

I specifically referenced the rug, giltwood furniture, that little round pillow, and her skintones.

Gertrude Vernon, Lady Agnew of Lochlaw, John Singer Sargent (1892)

Referenced for pose and expression.

Ena and Betty, Daughters of Asher and Mrs. Wertheimer, John Singer Sargent (1901)

The vase!

Lady Helen Vincent, Viscountess d'Abernon, John Singer Sargent (1904)

The hands playing with jewelry, expression.

Milicent, Duchess of Sutherland, John Singer Sargent (1904)

Skintone, colors of the dress and embroidery, expression.

The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit, John Singer Sargent (1882)

Back ground colors, the vases, the floor and rug

A Place to Call Home --- --- ---

This piece was commissioned by my dear friend @tawnyontumblr for HER dear friend @saretton to accompany a WONDERFUL fic that Tawny wrote for Saretton's birthday!

The fic is A Place to Call Home (Explicit, on AO3), a Human AU set in the Late Victorian/1890s and featuring Portrait Painter!Aziraphale and Stage Actor!Crowley as his artistic muse. I am in love with this concept.

Crowley's voice was almost too soft to hear. It nearly faded amidst the sweep of Aziraphale’s brush over canvas, the carriage rattling past outside—another layer of stimuli amidst the light, and the smell of linseed oil and turpentine. The way the fabric Crowley wore hissed gently over his skin as he slowly, minutely shifted position and then moved back.

He half sat half reclined on a Louis XVI armchair that Aziraphale had picked up in an estate sale. His legs were crossed, and the emerald banyan, embroidered with gold, slid from one shoulder. Aziraphale had been staring at that curve of lightly freckled skin while he'd been mixing rose madder and Chinese white, letting the brush sweep over the damp canvas as he sought to give voice to the hunger he felt.

The idea here was for me to paint the portrait of Crowley that Aziraphale is painting in the story.

Tawny asked me to paint with John Singer Sargent vibes, who is quite possibly my favorite artist of all time, and one of, if not the greatest, portrait painters of the 19th century. It's quite a tall order to try to imitate his style, so I settled for something Sargentesque! She also specified that "I want I am both painting and fucking him vibes. Intimate. That's the word." And I hope I delivered.

@goodomensafterdark Ya'll need to go read this fic its hot af.

I post all of my work, including the really filthy shit, full-sized WIPs, tutorials, comics, exclusive pieces, and more on my on my Patreon

A print of this piece will be up in my print shop on INPRNT!