obscurely-artistic

[obscurely-artistic]

Hi uh I'm the author of A Gift From An Angel

Wow I'm beyond touched that there's people out there who remember my writing and are trying to find it. I'm very new to fic writing so this means a lot.

Life has been a bit crazy so the next chapter is taking a while but I won't abandon this project. I'm overwhelmed by the love you all have given it , thank you 💕

Lost Fic #322

1. aaaa I have a lost fic! can any of you lovely mods help me? Im the first chapter, Aziraphale meets crowley in a bus stop. Aziraphale doesn't see he's there, and ends up sitting on him by accident. they talk for a bit, and Crowley needs help, doesn't have money or clothes against the cold. Aziraphale gives him money for the bus, and before he leaves, he gives Crowley his scarf. the premise of the fic is that Crowley would become a famous singer after that, he was able to pull himself up because of Aziraphale’s act of kindness, and Aziraphale wouldn't remember. It was probably a wip when I was reading it? thank you so much for all the work you do!! - @eybefioro

2. Hi! I dunno if youve gotten this request before, but there was a fic i read a while ago (I think post s2? im not sure) where crowley was a slave that was “gifted” to aziraphale, but obviously aziraphale doesnt want a slave and helps him unlearn his trauma. it was unfinished at the time but im not sure if it still is. i remember that crowleys wings looked like the galazy / had stars in them and that he was scared of miracles. ive searched far and wide for this fic but i still cant find it😅 - anon

3. Hey! I’m looking for a fic I read a while back, I remember someone tries to smite Aziraphale and Crowley jumps in front of him and is temporarily killed. It was based off of a drawing I believe which I can’t find anymore either. - anon

4. This is kinda an odd request… I’m looking for something I read a while ago abt Aziraphale trying to find Crowley or smth and end up in a Roman orgy cuz that’s where Crowley is and I remember them having sex in one of the baths or wtv and the other men being jealous of how good that sex sounded or smth like that Also if it’s no trouble, possibly more fica like that like when Crowley and Aziraphale go to a Roman orgy I appreciate everything yall do and I would be lost without your help ❤️ because I have tried to find this like a million times and haven’t been successful 😭 If you have time, please help me 🙏🏻 - @penpen363

5. Hey, there's two fanfics that are connected and i can't find them anymore, could you please help me?? They're like diaries, one is from crowley and the other is from aziraphale, thanks for listening don't explode pls ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 - @morakit24

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

[obscurely-artistic]

I’d like to freeze this moment.

I drew this after finishing season 4. I choose to believe those three weeks were just domestic bliss (my god let them rest please)

Small fic I wrote to go with it under the cut

In a house, somewhere in the Scottish countryside, sunlight streamed through the dusty blue curtains that hung over the single window that illuminated the small kitchen. The house itself was about as “bare essentials” as they came. A small round table sat across from the counters with three chairs around it. A small stove, a microwave, a refrigerator. The rest of the rooms weren't any better. Thankfully there was at least an electric kettle. Though if you asked Martin Blackwood, that counted as an essential.

It was what he was using now, picking it up from its base after it gave a cheerful little beep. Signaling that the water has reached a boil. He hummed softly to himself as he poured the steaming liquid into two mugs before him, careful to make sure the strings of the teabags didn't get yanked into the cups as they were filled.

He gently pushed one mug aside, knowing Jon drank his plain. Jon… Martin paused, as he often did when his thoughts turned towards the Archivist. His partner, his… boyfriend. His cheeks felt warm as he turned towards the fridge to find the milk. He paused with the door open, taking note of the meager stock inside. He'd probably have to go buy more food soon, though he worried how quickly their funds would run out.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost missed the sound of soft footsteps behind him. He straightened up as he heard fabric rustle and a small grunt. When he turned he saw Jonathan Sims perched on the counter nearby. A soft smile played on his lips as he looked over at Martin.

Martin, for his part, smiled back. Content to watch the man across from him for a moment. His loose curls hung down to his shoulders, though half of them were tied back in a messy top knot. Silver streaks coiling amongst charcoal black. He was wearing a dark green turtleneck that hung loosely on his small frame. A pair of tight black shorts hugged his legs, and bare feet dangled against the cabinet doors. Though Martin's gaze lingered on his legs, very nice legs really. Even with the long healed scars. The whole Jane Prentiss incident seemed… so far away now.

Martin felt his face warm again as he realized he'd been staring. His eyes flicking back up to Jon's face, seeing his expression had taken on a playful edge. One eyebrow quirked up as he picked up the mug next to him, bringing it to his lips and blowing away the cloud of steam that rose steadily from the drink.

Martin's mind wandered again, as it tended to do. They had been here for a week now. Things had been a bit… awkward at first. They'd barely gotten a chance to breathe after escaping the Isolation. They could only run. Run from the chaos the Institute has been thrust into. So much hung in the air between them for the first few days. Slowly clearing like morning fog. Quiet days spent together, mostly discussing plans, strategies… what ifs.

At night though, under the cover of darkness, in their shared bed they talked about everything and nothing at all. They'd talked about… well, them. Feelings long hidden away, though never gone. Jon had been so scared he'd missed his chance, only seeing Martin for who he really was after Martin had moved on. I loved you, you know? It had hit him deep.

Martin remembered the hushed, stuttered confessions. The rustle of the blankets as he had coaxed Jon closer, like a nervous cat that might bolt if he moved too suddenly. He remembered fingers brushing through hair, hands resting on cheeks. The warm sting of tears as he heard Jon whisper, so fervently, so earnestly… words he'd been waiting to hear for so long.

I love you.

It had been there in that plain, dark room that Jon had kissed him for the first time. Hesitant, and gentle. Stubble scratched his chin as Martin cautiously deepened the kiss. Soon it turned hungry, hands grabbing at fabric as Martin pulled Jon closer still, his small frame flush with his own.

They'd fallen asleep tangled together. An experience so sweet Martin had only dreamed of it up to that point. Sweeter still was waking up with his love still tucked against him. His breath tickled his neck where his head rested. They hadn't gotten out of bed until well after noon that day.

“You look like you're reminiscing.” Jon's voice pulled him back to the present. His usual dry tone had softened in a way Martin still wasn't used to.

Martin shook his head, grabbing the milk and finally shutting the fridge. “Just… thinking about that night.”

Jon hummed, tugging at the string of the tea bag to dunk it a few times. Martin didn't have to elaborate. He'd asked Jon just yesterday what he'd been thinking about, and he had answered without hesitation: “Getting to kiss you for the first time.”

They were both still giddy, and Martin knew that was normal for any new relationship, but everything felt so easy at the moment. The affection, the way Jon said I love you so casually, and Martin replying in turn as though they'd been doing it for years.

He wished they had. He wished they hadn't needed to go through all the pain and strife just to get here. The scars on Jon reminded him, constantly. His leg, his hands, even the few on his neck and face. Martin's own reflection served as a reminder too, the wispy white strands of hair mingled with his ginger curls.

Still, if this was what it had taken to get here. This moment, however brief. A deep seeded feeling told him this domestic bliss wouldn't last forever, but that doesn't mean he couldn't savor it…

He set the milk down, settling himself between Jon's legs. With the man sitting on the counter, they were practically the same height. Jon's brown eyes sparkled as he looked back at him. One hand reaching out to rest on Martin's face, the skin of his palm warm from cradling his mug.

“Well, hello there.”

Martin hummed, leaning in to Jon's touch. “Hey…”

Jon's fingers curled slightly, drawing Martin's face closer. Their lips met in a soft kiss, Martin unable to stop the smile that crept across his face. His eyes slid close as Jon's hand slipped to rest against his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. Then, nails gently scratched at his scalp, drawing out a pleased sigh from Martin. His breath puffing against Jon's lips.

The ceramic mug gently clicked against the countertop as Jon set it down, and the next thing Martin knew, his arms were very full of Jon. His lips parted slightly as the kiss was deepened. Jon leaned so far off the counter that Martin decided to fully scoop him up.

Legs wrapped tight around his waist, arms wound around his neck. Jon was so small, easy to carry as he'd discovered the other day. Though Martin suspected he'd lost weight since the first time they'd met.

Still, as much as he loved kissing him like this, there was only so long he could hold him. Slowly, he lowered him down to the floor, making sure he was standing before releasing his weight. Jon stared up at him as Martin pulled away from the kiss. His cheeks were dark, his hair a bit messier than before.

“Your tea is going to get cold.” Martin teased gently, brushing a strand of hair out of Jon's face.

Jon huffed, ever dramatic as he was. “You stopped kissing me just to tell me that?”

“Tea is a serious matter, Jon.”

“Oh it was too hot for me to drink still. I think I have a few more minutes.”

Before Martin could respond, he was yanked down by his hoodie into another kiss. It's not like he was going to refuse. He had years of desperate longing to make up for. He let his hands slide under Jon's sweater, brushing against his sides as Jon moved from kissing his lips to peppering his jaw and neck, whatever he could reach. The stubborn man practically trembled on tip toe to do so.

Finally, only when he was thoroughly breathless, did Jon stop his onslaught. Seemingly satisfied with the ratio of kisses on the lips to every inch of Martin's face that he could reach.

Martin felt a slight sting in his eyes as he cupped Jon's face with one hand, his thumb rubbing against his cheek. Jon's self-satisfied expression melted into slight concern as he took note of Martin's own expression.

“What's wrong?”

“I just… wish I could freeze this moment… right here.”

Jon hummed, tilting his face into Martin's palm. “I'm afraid that's not within the Eye's powers.”

“I know… I just… I don't want this to end, ever.”

“Nothing stays the same forever. I'm not going anywhere, though. Whatever happens… I'm not leaving you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Jon fully turned his head to press a kiss into Martin's palm.

Martin chuckled, “really now. Go drink your tea before it's all gross and lukewarm.”

“Fine,” Jon huffed. Turning back towards the counter. And well… considering how his sweater had been hiked up and now sat oddly on Jon's back, could anyone really blame Martin for giving in to impulse? Those shorts really were tight.

Jon yelped as Martin (lightly at least) slapped his rear. Spinning around with wide eyes and a beautifully flushed face. “Martin!”

If Jon's tea was cold by the time he got done chasing Martin through the small house in the Scottish countryside, well he'd make him another cup. It was worth it for the breathless laughter as they ended up tumbling onto the living room rug in a, honestly unfair, wrestling match. Worth it for the image of Jon, flustered with his hair a mess and eyes glinting with mischief and joy.

He couldn't freeze any of these moments, but they'd live forever in his memory. Whatever happened.

[obscurely-artistic]

Stupid meme after the angst from my last post

[obscurely-artistic]

but their aim is getting better!

[obscurely-artistic]

Season 4 was almost the death of me I swear

[obscurely-artistic]

I'm still alive. The Magnus Archives has consumed my mind and soul so expect mass amounts of fanart going forward. I'm almost done with season 5... (no spoilers in the tags please and thank you)

[obscurely-artistic]

Reblog if you've found friendship because of your fandoms.

[obscurely-artistic]

Rawr XD

Read my fic here!

Shop | Patreon

[obscurely-artistic]

First thing you see after you zoom in is how you die

How you dying 👀

[obscurely-artistic]

[obscurely-artistic]

i lied have az and crowleys eyes done with the coarse pencil on ibis x cause I don't feel like drawing anything else rn

TEN-ISH HOURS TILL ARTFIGHT AAAAAAAA

[obscurely-artistic]

Beelzeyweelzey

[obscurely-artistic]

Art Style Challenge: GO x Stardew Valley

Crolwey escaped the city buzz when he inherited an old run down cottage in the South Downs. He just wanted to be left alone and take care of his little garden but then he met the local (and absolutely handsome) librarian and everything changed ❤️

Ok sooo I absolutely had fun with this one especially since I played a bit of Stardew Valley again to get some screenshots XD It's definitely been a while since I've done pixel art - but I like how it turned out in the end! Hope ya enjoy it too and the little bonus content ❤️

- Please don't reupload my art -

[obscurely-artistic]

wanted to draw a fabulous trans crowley for pride so here he is

💙🩷🤍🩷💙

[obscurely-artistic]

"I wanna have you to myself, for once..."

[obscurely-artistic]

One cold night Aziraphale encounters a redheaded stranger taking shelter at a bus stop. Not wanting the poor man to sleep out in the elements, Aziraphale pays for his bus fare in hopes the man can reach safety and shelter. Before parting Aziraphale gifts him his scarf to keep warm. To Aziraphale, it's a simple act of kindness that eventually gets pushed to the back of his mind. To Crowley, it's a life changing encounter. Twenty years later Anthony Crowley is an accomplished singer and songwriter, dressing in all black except for a curious light tartan scarf. When asked about it, he always responds that it was a gift from an angel. An angel he's been searching for all those years.

I just realized I never shared the fic I've been working on here. Currently have 8 chapters posted, rated M.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59941015/chapters/152921353

[obscurely-artistic]

I'm in this one too! Please go donate if you're able, everyone worked so hard!

At long last, here is 'Bright Star', our celestial zine themed in tribute to 'Take Back the Night Foundation'! All profits will go towards helping SA victims. This zine features over 70 art and fic done by volunteers!

Every copy is $1 USD! Come grab and share a copy today!