Helm-Puppet

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Hey, guess what I finally finished (a month later like a slacker)!

I'm not happy with this, but to be fair I'm pretty much never happy with any art I finish.

For anyone who’s ever wondered who they’d be in a 19th century novel, the wait is over: I put together a 19th Century Character Trope Generator!

If you’d like to reblog, put your character in the tags because I’m curious.

Genteel Great-Aunt with a Dark Secret

Worldly Orphan with 10,000 pounds a year

Foreign Aristocrat in want of a Wife

Worldly bohemian with a dark secret

Headstrong Gentleman who is Secretly Wed

Simple country suitor with a dark secret

Eligible romantic who has fallen in love with a Duke

Byronic Widower Recently Returned from Abroad

Humble Tutor who is Prone to Conniptions

Humble Parson with Ulterior Motives

important ship tropes:

Happy Friday!

I see your floof, and I raise you...

YOU WIN

*slowly slides photo* hmm, my John Watson AKA 'Johnjohn'

YOUR CAT IS SLEEPY AND FABULOUS

What about a baby fluff?

YES BABY FLUFF THIS MAKES ME WANT TO CRY WITH JOY

Fluff twist with yarn?

Sleepy college football fan fluff

Reader: “Oh my God! I can’t wait to see what happens next!”

Me, the author, who has been winging this plot since chapter one:

Neil Gaiman’s 8 Rules of Writing, a remake of this post. Source.

Do as Neil says, not as I do…

WIP! Will color this soon, maybe this week if I find time.

I'm having a lot of fun drawing these two in my style lately. Keep thinking I'll draw other MASH characters, but... these two are shiny.

So, I did this doodle of Trapper for practice, then did this doodle of Hawkeye for the same and it ended up looking unintentionally super homoerotic -- so I went with it.

Good Omens + Pornhub

the hill on which i will not budge: the apocalypse, the spawning of the antichrist, the great war, and the whole ineffable plan was just god playing the long game so she could get crowley and aziraphale together after 6000 years of faffing.

see originally this was just written as pure nonsense, but i’ve thought about it now and am very definitely picturing good omens’ god as one of those fic writers using all the tropes to devise wonderful and impossible scenarios to get her ship together

only it never works because of that whole pesky free will malarkey

hotel receptionist: mister crowley, mister aziraphale, there appears to have been an error with your booking. you’ve somehow been booked into the same room - and there’s only one bed.

god: oh no

god: only one bed

god: what will they do?

god: hee hee hee

aziraphale: not to worry old boy, you take the bed while I read all night in the hotel lounge so as not to make you feel uncomfortable. angels don’t need sleep anyway, you know.

god:…for the love of me.

Hawkeye's daughter!

Yep. I absolutely did a character sketch for a character that does not even technically exsist yet because in the 264 words I actually wrote to this fic she is still a fetus. Nevermind that I have 11k of plot points which make it up to her being 24, that doesn't count.

Still getting way ahead of myself.

Oh well, OCs are fun to draw.

Alan Alda.

Fics tagged ‘Post-Apocalypse’ in most fandoms: bleak, buildings in ruin, sometimes zombies, fight for survival, nuclear wastelands, resource scarcity, roving gangs

Fics tagged ‘Post-Apocalypse’ in Good Omens fandom: THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED IN CROWLEY’S FLAT ♥♥♥♥♥

“Why, Sam has never gone back to a fandom he stopped writing for. It would take a miracle to-“

FFFUUUUUUUUUU

(It’ll be a while before the full thing is posted but I’m so delighted with this little bit I had to share it.)

“Delightful,” Aziraphale breathed, in the same tone of voice he might use to describe a good meal. He reached for Crowley’s belt buckle and Crowley had to immediately put a hand on his to stop him, wincing.

“Those don’t come off,” he said. 

Aziraphale blinked at him. “I beg your pardon.”

“Well, I mean. Obviously the trousers come off, they will, but you can’t take them off.” Crowley sighed. “They’re too tight. You’ve got to…”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, looking appalled. “Do you magic your trousers on in the morning?”

“Isn’t it nice after six thousand years we’re still learning new things about each other?” Crowley asked with a grin.

crowley, handing the books to aziraphale: little demonic miracle of my own, lift home?

frances mcdormand’s voice: that day aziraphale was amazed to discover that when crowley was offering to perform miracles for him, what he meant was ‘i love you’