evilasiangenius

[evilasiangenius]

FYI, when your inner critic is Very Loud, that is often a sign that you are about to level up in your abilities. Because you've gotten to a point where you have improved so much you can start to see where you can improve. How does one get past this? Keep writing, believe in yourself, and you'll find after some weeks (or months!) that genuine improvement has occurred and that inner critic is quieted. It's not easy to get through, but it's worth the trouble.

You can do it!

Reblog so everyone can hear what they need.

#writing

[evilasiangenius]

the person reading this is going to survive the rough patch they’re going through

[evilasiangenius]

There are currently ~2300 works in AO3 tagged with "Created Using Generative AI"

I'll be upfront with my opinion, which mirrors my opinion in regards to my field: using AI will only hasten your own obsolescence. The point of fanfiction is not to crank out fics, but rather to enjoy the hobby and communities of writing and fandom.

#polls #ai #ai 'writing' #i want to read good writing so no #no reading ai works for me

[evilasiangenius]

fuck it homebrew boop button. reblog this post to boop the person you reblogged from.

#boop #gif warning

[evilasiangenius]

✨Having someone who is invested in your story and discusses it with you is like a solid half of the fun of writing. I'm not even kidding.✨

#true facts

[evilasiangenius]

Guest comments temporarily disabled

Due to an influx of abusive spam comments, we've temporarily turned off the ability to leave comments while logged out. We apologize for the inconvenience, and hope to have guest comments back on soon! (16:06 UTC April 21, 2024)

#ao3 #ao3 news #you can also block guest comments by limiting commenters to registered accounts #i don't mind guest comments #i have met some lovely people via guest comments #but i'm also not an extremely popular writer that gets hate like some of my friends do so i get it #i also did receive the abusive comments on ao3 accusing me of using ai in my writing #which was insulting and unpleasant but ultimately affects me less than new writers since i've been posting for at least a decade on ao3 #in fact i think one of the fics that was accused was written and completed prior to the public accessibility of 'ai' #so i feel bad for newer writers who get accused that way as they have less ability to 'prove' that they are generating their own writing #that being said #don't give up on writing #it's a skill and an art worth having that no one can take from you

[evilasiangenius]

"Might I inquire as to what name the reservation is under, sir?”

“Fell.”

“Crowley.”

“Excuse me?” The bookish clerk blinked, as both angels, fallen and otherwise, had spoken simultaneously.

“Fell,” Aziraphale beamed. “The reservation is under Fell. F-E-double-”

“I’m afraid I don’t have a reservation under that name,” the clerk said apologetically, pushing his reading glasses higher upon the bridge of his nose after a quickly look through the reservation book.

“...because it’s under Crowley. Anthony J., if you please-”

“Oh.” The clerk blinked. “I don’t see a reservation for a Mr. Anthony J. Crowl- but oh wait, there is an entry here for a Mr. Fell. I’m sorry, I must have missed it the first time. My apologies, it seems that I may need new spectacles. Anyway, it’s for a-”

“A two roomed special suite,” Aziraphale said primly.

“Oh, I do apologize, sir,” the clerk stared at the books and stared again, puzzled. “But your booking is for a stateroom with only one bed.”

“Is there any way to change the booking? It seems as though a mistake has been made in the reservation,” Aziraphale asked.

“I’m sorry, sir. There are no two roomed special suites available at this time. I’m afraid those are all booked up.”

“What about a second class berth with two beds-”

Crowley beamed. “Oh, what a terrible shame. I suppose we’ll just have to make do with the one..."

x

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #there was only one bed #mistakes were made

[evilasiangenius]

@yeahitsak

#i just want this to be here

[evilasiangenius]

#happy bread anniversary

[evilasiangenius]

Reblog to hug the person you reblogged this from and tell them that everything’s going to be okay

[evilasiangenius]

Just so y’all know: I can’t speak for every other fic author but I can say that I remember when people leave me kind comments. I recognize your urls and/or usernames on AO3. I remember you and sometimes in writing my fics I think to myself, “Oh, I hope this person sees this because they liked x in this other fic I did.”

Not only that—I go back and reread comments when I’m feeling low. I look at tags and reblogs and asks and wish I could hold them in my hand like a note from a friend on an old, torn piece of notebook paper.

Your comments have so much more impact than you know. So thanks to those who use the comment section to spread love and encouragement. We appreciate you.

#100% true

[evilasiangenius]

New fresco from Pompeii just dropped and this dog is a mood

"The frescos depict Greek mythology: Paris kidnaps Helen which triggers the Trojan War"

Live dog reaction

Source

[picture id: the last two images show progressively zoomed in screenshots of a painting of a pale dog that seems to have a disapproving expression on its face]

#dog #pompeii #pompeii paintings #helen of troy #live slug reaction #live slug reaction but back then it was a dog #dog does not approve of adultery #dog: the straights are at it again #ancient fanart

[evilasiangenius]

you will live and you will say the wrong things and make mistakes and people will love you anyways.

[evilasiangenius]

“Wait, you’re-” Crowley gasped.

“A Prince of Hell,” the tiny creature agreed, before changing and taking a more standard humanoid shape. Not particularly tall, perhaps a handspan shorter than Crowley himself, but built broad and solid, heavy muscle padded with a generous layer of fat and a chubby belly. Sun-burnished skin and a frizz of curling black hair that cascaded around those bulky shoulders, the Prince of Hell was stripped to the waist and wore a kilt of woven lauʻie, with a stripe of black and red feathers above a loose fringe that waved hypnotically in the water. Around a stout neck was draped a necklace of whale teeth that somehow formed the Prince’s name. And instead of wearing the black crown of state that all the royalty of Hell wore, of heavy meteoric iron, this Prince of Hell wore a simple plaited crown of green leaves and crimson flowers. Somehow those leaves and flowers formed the Prince’s name as well, announcing to the world that this was Leviathan.

Crowley backed up, finding himself with his back pressed against a solid wall of cold, sharp volcanic stone.

“You’ve been looking for me. Here I am. Was there something you wanted?” Leviathan asked, as if the answer was not already known.

“I...” And he looked around frantically, hoping that Aziraphale had followed him.

“Your friend isn’t here. And even if he were...he couldn’t interfere. Do you really think a Prince of Hell would not support his brother against a member of the Opposition?”

“No, I suppose not.” Crowley felt himself trembling all over, and he hugged himself tight, as if that would cover the motion. “Wh-what do you want?”

“I’m here to ask the same thing,” Leviathan said. “No one has ever looked for me this long, especially not an angel. What are you doing down here? How are you even here? I thought your kind couldn’t bodily enter the water.”

“Th-thwarting? O-on assi- ass. Asses. Assigh- Erm, work.” Crowley squeaked, dropping his hands to his sides because he realized he shouldn’t look like a small scared thing, not when facing the Adversary. Or, at least a former agent of the Adversary who was now technically a runaway.

“Ah.” Leviathan crossed muscular arms over an ample chest.

Crowley felt the edges of friable stone press sharp beneath his palms, and the pain reminded him why he was here. He took a deep breath.

“I...I’m here to ask if you would trade places with another. If you would allow him to step down and that you would take his place, back in the hierarchy of Hell.”

x

#reverse omens #good omens #angel crowley #demon aziraphale #crowley #leviathan #the seventh prince of hell

[evilasiangenius]

fuck it. post gustave doré octopus blowjob

#dubious consentacles

[evilasiangenius]

The bell jingled as the door opened and somehow it always jingled a little more sweetly when Crowley walked in the bookshop, as if the bell knew that the angel would be pleased to see Crowley.

However, that didn’t extend to the humans.

In whatever state of interest or book reading each person was in, they found themselves setting books down very, very carefully or delicately placing volumes back where they belonged before rushing out the door in a calm and controlled panic. This happened about once every few months or so, usually no more than once a month and the regulars knew it as a time to soothe their strangely distressed souls with vanilla ice and cake, in that specific order. Though sometimes it was strawberry ice and just once, chocolate.

“Angel!” Crowley exclaimed as he strutted in, black shoes clicking snappy upon the parquet floor, humans scuttling out in his wake. The demon took off his hat with a flourish. With hat in one hand and something else conspicuously hidden behind his back with his other hand, he smiled from behind dark-lensed glasses. “I have something for you.”

“Hmm?” Aziraphale looked up from his books. Not the books that made up his shop, but the accounting specifically. His spectacles slipped down his nose and Aziraphale brought his hand up to adjust the little gold-framed reading glasses that had lenses with no discernible degree of magnification but nonetheless helped him read better, or so he thought.

“A record!” Crowley pulled the square cardboard slip out from behind his back, brandishing it triumphantly. “And not just any record, but ‘Hep Hep! The Jumpin' Jive!’!”

“That is a lot of exclamation points,” Aziraphale said drolly, taking the record and looking at the cover. “But my dear, I actually already have a copy of this.”

“...how did you-” Crowley laughed, a short raucous sound. “That’s...that’s impossible, it was just recorded in New York a few hours ago.”

“I would say then that it’s impossible for you to have this as well,” Aziraphale’s mouth was pursed in a tiny amused grin. “So we’re at an impasse.”

“Seriously, impossible,” Crowley muttered, “that every time you beat me to it...”

“Well! That being said, I already have a copy, but I don’t have one from you.” Aziraphale smiled and slipped the record out of the sleeve. “And I haven’t had a chance to listen to it yet, what with all the bookkeeping today, accounting and otherwise. Shall we listen to it together?”

x

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #mistakes were made

[evilasiangenius]

“Do you think we’ll find him?” Crowley asked, sitting against the wall, Aziraphale’s black robe draped over his knees. The work on the mending continued; he didn’t do more than a fingerlength or so every now and again because it was so hard to work with black thread on slippery black silk.

“Honestly? I think if he appears, it will only be because he wants to.” Aziraphale had laid down beside him; unlike the angel’s casual sprawl, he laid with arms folded and legs crossed primly at the ankles.

“And so far he hasn’t wanted to appear.”

“No, I think not. I suppose he’ll appear when he wants to, and no earlier. Though perhaps he doesn’t know we’re looking for him...”

Crowley made a few more stitches, and then set the work down.

“Done? Shall we have dinner? Or would you like some tea first. Oh, or a cold drink, like a fruit sherbet-”

“No. I...” And Crowley stared at the edge of the black robe that rested on his knee, lingering. He longed to reach out to it, to clutch it close and take in the scent of cedar and lavender despite the needles still threaded through the fine cloth, and it was such a vexing, contradictory feeling that he suddenly stood up, trying to shake it off.

“What’s wrong?”

And all around him were the signs of disloyalty; his half-finished kithara, the partially mended robe, everything obscured from the eye of Heaven within a demon’s secret hiding place, hidden from even the machinations of Hell itself and he wondered if this was a temptation and maybe that didn’t matter because why tempt someone who was throwing themselves readily into the flames.

He thought about serving in Hell. It would be terrifying at first, the monstrous visages of sneering demons all around him and the tortures or threat of destruction that awaited every and any failures. He knew the disgrace of the Fall would never leave him, but it was not like he wasn’t used to it, berated into crushing shame and guilt over and over in the halls of Heaven for every failure, perceived or otherwise. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad, a minor retainer favored by a Prince of Hell, and then it could be like this always, with the warmth and heat of Aziraphale’s body pressed against his, and the touch of Aziraphale’s soft breath against his bare skin, and-

“Would you really run away with me?"

x

#good omens #angel crowley #demon aziraphale #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #the seventh prince of hell