Ok, so we all know by now that you shouldn't feed ducks bread…
But today, while translating a text that is in no way related to Good Omens, I found out WHY.
It's because if they eat bread, they could get a disease causing a wing deformity… called ANGEL WING.
And there goes my sanity again… 🦆🪽🫠
46 notes
·
View notes
anyway quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack
21 notes
·
View notes
I really do love Raphael!Crowley though bc like hear me out. Season 1 you have Adam, the antichrist, rejecting all the power in the world bc he prefers to just be Adam, with the Them and his family and his small town. He was born to be Special but chooses to be ordinary.
Now, season 3, we have Aziraphale, a principality, born to be another soldier of heaven, one who had an important job once sure but in the end just another cog in the angelic machine. Offered the chance to be Special, and wants it so desperately bc he thinks that having that power will grant him the freedom to live the way he wants.
Now picture Crowley as the foil, starting life as an Archangel, The Archangel in some stories, the healer, the star maker. Special. Cast away, had his Specialness forcibly ripped from him. Adam grew into his powers, got a taste and decided against it. Raphael had only ever known life with his powers, it's not until he asks a few too many questions that they're taken away and he has to learn to survive. Given the chance to have it back but he refuses, bc he's made more of a life for himself, been more himself, since becoming an "ordinary" demon.
11 notes
·
View notes
I had my first Digital Art in Video Games assignment!! And to start easy it was to make anything we'd like as a way to get used to the programs... And since they said anything I had to do some Good Omens! 💖
I was really inspired by @fulifuli s Good Omens and referenced their characters as I worked on it so a lot of credit goes to this AWESOME artist and this adorable giff!! (人´∀`).☆.。.:*・゚
I'll be posting so much good omens art probably...
10 notes
·
View notes
[Untitled Poetry 9/13/23]
I love the word Clandestine
The way it falls off my tongue
Like we were meant to meet
And feel and see
But tucked away from prying eyes
And listless speeches
Yet still smiling into each other
But it must all be kept a secret
5 notes
·
View notes
had to wait to watch good omens season 2
watched it
now @captivated-by-books and I have been screeching about it to each other over text for the last couple of days
thanks @neil-gaiman
2 notes
·
View notes
Quiz time: What do these three have in common?
Other than David Tennant! Anyone can see that, duh!
I'll take my answer in the comments/reblogs.
Re-blog for larger sample size (aka pass the quiz sheets to the kids behind you)
@turtleneck-crowley @ivankaramazov07 @mizgnomer @ofpineapplesanddawns did you get it ;)
24 notes
·
View notes
There is a man with fire-red hair running a bookshop in Soho.
He hasn't always been the original owner, as almost all residents on Whickber Street know, but it is a fact you never bring up with him. Hiding behind a pair of sunglasses and layers of rough sarcasm, he is a shadow moving silently between shelves and plants, the Bentley parked outside seemingly more for decoration than actual use.
Previously, there had been a white-haired man with gentle eyes and a favour up his sleeves living among his books, and while he barely sold any of them, he was a pillar of the community just like the building itself. When he disappeared, an unspoken vow to never discuss the subject matter in the vicinity of the shop was made.
There is a woman with fire-red hair sitting in St. James's Park.
She feeds frozen peas to the ducks and puts the fear of God into everyone who dares to offer them bread or attempts to scare them away. The bench is hers, always empty, awaiting her arrival; sometimes she brings a bottle of wine, other times she cradles a Polaroid in the palm of her hand, and even the dark shades cannot stop the occasional tear from dripping down her cheek.
Rumours of her companion and his absence spread quickly, yet no one dares to ask, and the spies scattered around the park form a mutual understanding to avoid her.
There is a person with fire-red hair wandering the streets of London, wearing sunglasses and no coat, no matter the weather or time.
Their head is tipped back, their eyes glued to the sky, and yet they navigate through the masses parting around them with an unnatural ease. No one stops them, no one dares to ask why, and even if they did, they wouldn't offer an answer, not when they are asking themself the very same question.
When it begins to rain, they stop moving, stretching out their hands in a weak imitation of a prayer and allowing the water to seep into their clothes until they're as dark as the wet concrete beneath them.
There is a man with blinding white hair stepping out of an elevator that does not exist, and the end of the world comes with him. If someone were to listen in, they would realise that the man with fire-red hair meets him in the middle of the street, the air thick with lightning that will never find a home.
As they talk, nightingales all over London begin to sing.
2K notes
·
View notes
I find it hilarious how you can tell which fanfics are pre or post season 2 by what Aziraphale and Crowley feed the ducks
We went from "Aziraphale fed the ducks bread/rice/seeds" to "NO OTHER TYPE OF SUSTENANCE SHALL BE ACCEPTED BUT FROZEN PEAS"
2K notes
·
View notes