#I summon thee. your opinions are important for this I think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snowe-zolynn-rogers · 4 years

Text

Roman and Logan’s Dark Strange Son Rewrite

Pairings: Romantic Logince, Platonic Loginceit/Roloceit

Word Count: 1282 Words

Summary: Logan And Roman set out to try to make things right, with only slight amounts of spite and pettiness toward their fellow light sides.

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, Unsympathetic Patton, Spiteful Roman, Petty Logan, Fighting Mention, Innuendo Mention, Slight Arachnophobia Mentions, let me know if I should tag something else

Chapter 1

The summon was sudden, making everyone sure that it was urgent and/or important.

"Okay, what do I do? Everyone either needs my help Friday or wants to hang out on Friday and on Friday, I'm supposed to be visiting my brother but nobody apparently noticed that I told them this months ago."

Then the arguments began, Patton keeping the majority of Thomas' attention, Virgil and Deceit fighting, Logan and Roman going through the checklist of friends that wanted Thomas' attention of Friday and calmly, albeit loudly to hear each other, discussing how to deal with said friend's request.

"So we just don't tell them and go visit your brother!? Patton announced.

"What? No!" Deceit snapped at him.

"Deceit, just give up. You don't get to win. Villains don't win." Virgil told him, scowling.

"Well isn't that hilariously ironic coming from you." Deceit snapped at him. Virgil just rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, Deceit, nobody asked you to be here." Thomas snapped at him.

"You're right, no one needed to call me to a discussion where you want to lie to every one of your friends for no reason at all. I guess I'm definitely not needed then, huh?" Deceit snapped.

"No, you're not. Go away!" Thomas snapped at him and Roman saw the look of betrayal in his eyes, maybe the beginnings of tears as well.

"Fine." Was the only thing Deceit said before sinking out.

"Good job, Thomas! You made him go away!" Thomas didn't smile, just rubbed his arm more, nervous. Roman felt tears in his own eyes he was shoving back because, if he cried now, they'd know he sided with Deceit and try to make him leave too.

Roman already knew he wanted to talk to his husband after this.

Getting back to the mind palace after a debate had a routine. They usually all needed to decompress from it. Roman began this time with changing from his normal prince suit with a groan as he tiredly leaned against his husband, who immediately loosened his tie.

Patton was currently complaining about Deceit, 'bad guy' this and 'evil' that while Virgil sulked on the couch at their decision. Deceit, albeit present for the debate, had returned to his room that was growing farther and farther from the dark side of the Mindscape, Roman could feel it. He vaguely wondered where Remus' was until Patton's complaining shook him from his thoughts.

"No wonder he's no good at trying to prove a good point! He doesn't even speak up! He'll never get accepted by Thomas at this rate!" Patton finally began snapping, obviously in reference to Deceit, the only side not present from the argument.

Logan and Roman look at each other as they heard him. Without responding or even engaging either the aqua or purple sides, both snuck their way upstairs to the third floor, to Logan's debate room, locking the door behind them.

"You wanted to talk? You dragged me up here." Roman asked.

"You seemed tense, I assumed you'd want to talk too." Logan answered, sitting on a desk. "Deceit didn't have a chance to get Thomas to listen to his side. Thomas was so focused on being a 'bad person' that he'd rather ignore the side protecting him from the world the most." Logan added.

"Because Patton kept his attention and Virgil kept fighting with him." Roman sat on the chair of the desk Logan was sitting at and laying his head on Logan's thigh.

"Should we ask his opinion then?" Logan offered.

"Absolutely. I know just where his room is. I can send a hawk with a message.” Roman exclaimed, rather proud of his idea.

"Or perhaps something that doesn’t prey on snakes." Logan corrected quickly.

"Ah, of course! No need to scare our scaly friend. I shall send a messenger dragon in place of a hawk!" Roman beamed and he summoned a small dragon into existence on his arm, the dragon rubbing its head against his neck as it awaited to be told where to go while Roman wrote up a note to stick in its message keeper on its left leg.

"To the yellow door in the grey area. It’s the only room there, Reign, you should be able to find it.” Roman instructed the dragon and let him out the window on the wall. Reign gave a final rub on Roman’s neck and then a small fiery breath of seemingly his way of saying yes.

"Isn't Reign busy attending to his children?" Logan asked.

"Royal is attending to their eggs today." Roman corrected him.

"I can't wait to see what the dragons look like. I mean, Reign and Royal have so many genetics so they can have a bunch of different morphs of children." Logan wondered aloud.

"So how long before Virgil and Patton think we're having too much fun up here?" Roman asked.

"If you're referring to intercourse, they've probably already noticed and made a reference to it. I can see why they never visit this room for this specific reason. Though, we should leave before they make any assumptions. If anything, your pet dragon will probably take a bit it he's going to the grey area." The logical side explained.

"Just keep an eye out. You were here when I sent him a message so he might come back to you instead." Roman unlocked the door and left the room, Logan leaving after leaving the window and door open for the dragon.

And lo and behold, Reign came back later seeming thoroughly happy having visited Deceit. He came straight to Logan, who had Roman laying on his lap, head and hair splayed on his lap and his arms wrapped protectively around his waist so he could cuddle with him. Reign landed on Logan's knees, pushing his snorting muzzle into the book Logan was currently reading in order to gain his attention.

"Oh hey, Reign. Did you return with a message?" The dragon chirped and raised his left foot, showing thee logical side that he did, indeed, have a message from Deceit in his holder. Logan gently opened the top of the message holder, as he'd watched Roman do far too many times, and he took out the paper inside Just as he did, Roman began to wake up at the feeling of the movement.

"Oh, hey, Reign, you're back. Roman reached to pet the scaly friend as Logan read through the messages, both Roman's and Deceit's.

"What's that?" Patton asked cheerily.

"Probably a notice that the dragon eggs in Spider Woods have begin hatching and they need my assistance with caring for them." Roman made the excuse so easily while still half asleep that Logan might have to admit he would impressed. Patton visibly shuddered and didn't ask further so Logan went with the dragon thing.

"No, the dragons haven't hatched yet but they said it's close. Probably tonight around dinner time so they want you to check on them. I think I'll accompany you." Logan continued the excuse with the information of Deceit saying it was okay to meet up in the Imagination around six.

"Really, Lo? You wanna go into the Spider Woods to see dragons being born?" Virgil asked.

I mean, why not? I've got nothing else to do today. Plus dragons sound pretty cool to me." Logan told him.

Roman was busy cuddling Reign, petting him and kissing him and letting the dragon curl up and fall asleep against his chest. The remainder of the day was spent with Roman and Logan alone together going over ideas of what to and not to say before packing up food and leaving to meet Deceit near Spider Woods in the Imagination.

Taglist: @zozomind @im-default @imma-potatoo @genderfluidmoma

#sanders sides #unsympathetic patton #sympathetic deceit #thomas sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #romantic logince #logince #snoweywrites #roman and logan's dark strange son #tw fighting mention #tw innuendo mention #tw spider mention

92 notes · View notes

spootiliousrps · 5 years

Text

Human!Aziraphale

It was true what they said, desperate people would go to desperate lengths when something was important enough. Including attempting to summon a demon when all logical ways of solving a problem were exhausted. The bookstore was important, though. Originally owned by Alfred Zachary Fell and announcing as much on the sign above the door reading A. Z. Fell that had never been changed when it passed down to his son. No point, with a name like Azira. It had an A and a Z, his last name was Fell, so it worked. It was a family store, it was his home, and now he had some uppity book collector all offended over a few titles Azira hadn't wanted to part with and the man was threatening to get him shut down for some asinine business codes that the shop wasn't quite up to date on. There were other ways to solve the problem, of course, but none that didn't mean swallowing his pride and giving in to Gabriel's self-entitlement. The occult book had practically fallen in Asira's lap. Literally. And after browsing through it curiously he was finally here, with a summoning circle drawn on his floor in chalk and eight candles lit around the edges. Couldn't hurt to try, right? The incantations was in Latin, which wasn't a problem, he knew Latin, and the final line was a fill-in-the-blank with the demon's name that was being summoned, their sigil in the center of the circle, and a call for the demon to obey all commands. Though the book did note that the demon didn't /have/ to, but it could be persuaded to. It was stuck in the circle until the candles burned down, and then it was cast back where it came from. Or part of the circle could be erased to release it. Azira also had a squirt bottle of what he hoped was actual Holy Water just in case. He read the Latin aloud word for word, feeling a bit foolish that nothing was seeming to happen so far, and ended it with, "I command thee, Crowley, the Great Serpent!" Because he refused to have to bugs, flies, maggots, mold and vermin in his shop. He could handle a snake. If anything even happened, though much to his surprise and wonder, the chalk lines in front of him began to glow a deep red.

You: The very foundation of the shop began to shudder with the force that washed out of the circle in waves until a large mass, taking up most of the space allotted curling in on itself over and over. The gargantuan serpent coiled and moved until its massive head peered out of the entanglement and down at the human that had summoned it. Its yellow eyes wondered over him repeatedly until it squinted almost in accusation. The mass began to shift once more, this time shrinking, melting into itself, morphing into a humanoid shape. Finally a slender red haired man stood before the human, clothes the same black and red that had been the color of the snake's scales. He shoved his hands in his pockets and eyed the man once more with an arched brow. "Glad to see I'm just as popular as ever but I was in the middle a particularly torturous game of chess. What do you want?"

Stranger: Considering Azira expected this to end with him feeling foolish for having attempted it in the first place, the fact that /something/ was happening had a slow building smile of wonder, awe, and disbelief stretching across his face even when he found himself looking up into the yellow eyes of a very, very large snake. Obviously the right demon then. He watched in fascination as the snake seemed to shrink then, morphing into a more humanoid shape, the voice finally shaking Azira out of his stunned glee. It was just a little bit exciting, after all, wasn't it? But then he remembered that the book spoke about having a commanding presence because demons would exploit any weakness and he quickly schooled his expression as he turned back to the book in his hands to skim across the page he was on. "Demon, I summoned you here to do my... Mmmm..." Bidding. The book said bidding. Well, that was a bit... Demanding. Azira frowned at the wording as he continued to skim through the words, all forceful and bordering on rude, and really, there was no need for that, was there? Discontent with the rest of the suggestions in the book, Azira closed it and tucked it under his arm with a slightly guilty frown. "Sorry, can I start over? I apologize for interrupting your game, I just had a small request, a favor, really, if it's not a hassle."

You: "Yes, yes, I know the general reasons." Crowley dismissed with a wave of his hand, brushing off the words. Everyone always wanted him to do their 'bidding'. Of course, he had a very high success rate; granted the 'success' was on his part not theirs. The men that summoned him rarely got exactly what they wanted. It was amusing really. He lifted his hand as if he were about to snap his fingers when the apology caught him so off guard he almost staggered, yellow eyes shooting up to meet the human's. He paused, listening to him, brows furrowed. Now... That was interesting. An occultist with manner? He certainly wasn't use to all of the politeness. "A favor?" He asked, lowering his hand, curiosity getting the better of him. "You're lucky I was losing anyways." He lied sauntering a bit closer and pausing in front of the plump human. He had to admit the man was far more easier on the eyes than any of the ones that made their way down to Hell. "I'm listening."

Stranger: To Azira, a commanding presence had more to do with earning respect, and that wasn't done by being impolite. But he also wasn't naive enough to forget that he was talking to a demon, an immortal creature of darkness that could be very dangerous and unpredictable. That didn't stop Azira from being intrigued as Crowley stepped closer and he did as well, staying just outside the boundary of the circle. "Well you see, I've found myself in a bit of a mess," he admitted. "I'm a collector of rare books and this is my shop. It's very important to me, it was started by father and he met my mother here and now it's mine. The books I have are just as important, some of them having been in my family for longer than anyone can remember. I'm picky about who I sell certain things to and given that it's my shop, I have the right to decline service. I recently refused to sell a handwritten, first draft of Hamlet to a man a few days ago and now he's threatening to report my shop for code violations and get me shut down if I don't sell to him. It's ridiculous, really, throwing a tantrum just because he isn't getting what he wants, and I'd hate to give in to such childish behavior just to keep from losing my shop." He huffed out a small sigh, looking more petulant and put out than actually /worried/.

You: Crowley's gaze narrowed once more as he considered the words. "So... Let me get this straight." He began with a sigh, moving away to pace the outline of the circle, taking in the surrounding shop. "A man comes in to buy a book you obviously don't want to part with. Throws a tantrum like a typical human... So, you decide to summon Hell's most terrifying demon to do something about it?" He scoffed with amusement, a flashing smile playing on his lips, fangs obvious. "Sounds a bit excessive." He mused, turning to face him as he walked backwards a bit, lazily. The Demon exuded nonchalance, as if he hadn't a care in the world. As if he were exactly where he wanted to be, that it had been his choice to come here. "It certainly sounds like something a human would do... Your kind always provides such overkill."

Stranger: When hearing it put like that, it did sound a bit ridiculous. Azira huffed out a soft chuckle at how all this must have looked to Crowley and he flashed the demon a much softer smile compared to the one he was receiving. "It's not quite like that. I've tried talking it over with him and making some kind of deal, I've looked how I would have to renovate in order to make sure everything was up to code, I've gone over my options. I was going to just give in when I bumped one of the shelves and this book fell off. I can't say I've exhausted all other options until I actually exhaust all other options, now can I? I didn't really think it would work. And I didn't summon you because you were the most terrifying, I summoned you because snakes don't eat paper product, discolor parchment, chew on book covers, or lay eggs between the pages. And obviously you can do things I can't in a situation like this. I thought you could roadblock him for me. Every time he goes to file a complaint, you could make it impossible. Offices not having the right forms, his calls dropping, information getting lost, things like that, until he's so frustrated he just decides it's a waste of time and gives up."

You: A laugh escaped the Demon. It wasn't like any he had ever experienced. It wasn't malicious or evil or even threatening. The laugh was one of humor, genuine unadulterated humor. The smile on the man's face was so warm it was almost infectious and his ideas were so shockingly inconvenient it almost made him breathless. This... human had a better sense of torture than most Demons. In just the few moments Crowley was there on Earth he could see that. Not to mention the amusement he caused in regards to his opinions on snakes. "And what will I get if I do what you ask?" He inquired, suddenly appearing in front of the human, so close that their breaths mingled with every word. "If I keep him away? What are you willing to sacrifice for my..." His gaze lowered, practically devouring every inch of the blond before meeting his gaze again. "Services." He practically purred.

Stranger: For a demon, Crowley's laugh was surprisingly pleasant. It wasn't some evil cackling, it didn't seem sarcastic or condescending, and Azira didn't feel like it was directed /at/ him for coming to do a demon with something so mundane and harmless. It was very disarming, so when Azira suddenly found himself face to face with the demon, much closer than before, he startled hard enough to nearly drop his book. Him fumbling with the book for a brief second was the only reason he didn't step back, too busy trying to look like he wasn't half as flustered as he suddenly felt with his cheeks warming in embarrassment. "Ah, well... My soul is out of the question, unfortunately," he answered, his voice lower since they were standing so close. "Otherwise... I don't know what services like this run for a demon. I could offer you my appreciation, not that you wouldn't get it anyway, of course. Erm..." He patted at his breast pocket, brightening a bit when he found the pen he was looking for, a sleek, shiny black one that reminded him of the black, oil-slick scales that the snake had. He slipped it out and held it to the demon with a slight shrug. "It was my father's but it matches you a bit better, I think. It's very expensive for a pen and it can write underwater. It's novel. I don't know why anyone would ever need to write underwater, but you never know, I suppose."

You: Crowly's smile only widened at the sight of the human's embarrassment. However, it was gone in an instant as the pen was offered out. His brows furrowed in confusion, gaze lowering to peer at the pen. "Demon's don't value things the way humans do... Expensive doesn't matter." He mumbled absently as he lifted a hand to take the pen. He turned it over in his hands, examining it carefully. It was nothing more than an over glorified piece of metal and ink. Still, something about it warmed Crowley's cold blooded nature. His pensive expression turned more into an unease frown as he glared at the object, still studying it. It matched him? Because of the color? He would have no use for it. Couldn't use it to barter or trade in Hell... Doubted he'd ever need to write something underwater... And yet... Now that it was in his possession he certainly didn't want to let it go. Finally, he huffed, gaze lifting to the human as he tucked it away in his pocket. "Very well. A trivial item for a trivial matter." He seemed to scoff. He gave a quick nonchalant snap of his fingers. "Your problem is taken care of." He reassured. "And Human?" He addressed meeting his gaze once more. "If you need anything else, don't be afraid to call." He teased, shooting him a wink before disappearing.

Stranger: "Expensive might matter but maybe the novelty does?" Azira offered uncertainly. He wasn't really sure what mattered to a demon, really. He assumed things like pain and misery, but that was probably just a stereotype. Crowley didn't seem too interested in pain and misery, he seemed to like the idea of causing inconveniences and embarrassment, though. Surprisingly enough, the pen was accepted, and Azira smiled brightly in response, just about to ask what all this entail when it was done, just like that, with a snap of the demon's fingers. He had no proof that it was actually taken care of but the appreciation and relief was very clear when those yellow eyes met his again. (Crowley's eyes were very interesting, beautiful in a otherworldly, unique sort of way.) Azira didn't get the chance to say anything more before the demon was disappearing but it was definitely an encounter he wouldn't forget. In fact, it was one he found himself thinking about often over the next several weeks. It was silly, but he hadn't heard a word from the disgruntled man he had refused to sell to and no trouble with the shop, Azira couldn't help but feel the need to thank the demon somehow. Then he changed past a storefront with a stunning lapel pin, a snake in twisting silver with golden topaz eyes. He bought it and spent the next several days worrying over how weird it would be to just call the demon up to give it to him as a thank you. The perfect solution presented itself on a rainy Wednesday when Azira was was marking a discount sign with a sharpie. He capped the marker, stuck it in the breast pocket of his jacket, and five minutes later he was groaning in despair over the dark black stain growing over the cream fabric. This was his /favorite/ blazer and the damn marker had probably bled through the vest and shirt underneath, knowing how sharpies were. It was incredibly disheartening, this brand had gone out of business last year and he would never be able to get the stain out! He tossed the ruined marker and decided to close the shop early for emotional distress, having just locked the door when he realized who /could/ get the stain out. Soon he had it all set back up, ruined jacket still on and his little "present" tucked in his pocket and he read the incantation once more.

You: The giant snake appeared just as it had the last time. Typically the action of being yanked out of Hell and deposited into the Human plain was disorientating and forced Demon's into their parallel form. However, the action wasn't as shocking as it had been the first time Aziraphale had called on him so, it didn't take as long for him to shift into a more appropriate form. Soon enough, the red haired humanoid stood before the blond, the same leather clothing squeezing his form as he peered at him. "Back so soon?" He asked with a small flash of teeth as he smiled at him, yellow gaze amused. He caught sight of the stain almost instantly but didn't comment as he glanced about the shop curiously. "What is it this time?" He asked absently. "Spilt milk? Tea too cold?" He teased lightly, toeing the edge of the circle, knowing he wouldn't be allowed to pass it without the Human's consent.

Stranger: Azira frowned at the teasing, shutting the book and setting it aside before approaching the edge of the circle. "An incident with a permanent marker, actually," he admitted, sighing and tugging at the edge of his jacket to draw attention to the stain. Not that Crowley hadn't noticed, Azira saw his gaze go right to the large black blotch before anything else. "I would never waste your time by calling you for something I could easily fix myself. I can clean my own milk spill and warm up my own tea, but this jacket is my favorite and they're no longer on the shelves so I can't go buy another." He tried to make himself look at pitiful as he could, which wasn't too hard with how genuinely upset he was over the ruined blazer. "Surely something like this would be effortless for you, wouldn't it?"

You: Crowley's attention turned to him and he eyed the blazer with an arched brow. "It would." He acknowledged, still circling. "If I were so-" He paused as his gaze landed on the man's expression, he looked so pitiful, that put was... No, no, no. Crowley would /not/ fall for that. "Inclined." He finished, moving over to him. "My help always comes with a price, human." He reminded. "What do you have for me this time?" He asked curiously.

Stranger: "Of course," Azira answered. "I wouldn't dream of asking for a service I didn't intend to pay for." He figured with how small a task this was, the lapel pin was more than enough to cover it and be considered a thank you. Not because it was expensive, but maybe because Azira had specifically gotten it with Crowley in mind and specifically to show his appreciation. Maybe demons could tell those sorts of things, he wasn't sure, but he slipped the flat, velvet box out of his pocket and passed it through the circle to the other. And alright, maybe he was just a bit nervous about this. It wasn't like it was something he had laying around that he was offering up, that would be understandable if it wasn't to the demon's liking, it was a very intentional gift and Azira wasn't sure if the demon would even /like/ it. "It reminded me of you," he offered in way of a defense, waving his hand absently as if this was no big deal. And it shouldn't be, really. It wasn't. Absolutely not.

You: Crowley eyed the box with some hesitance, his forked tongue darting out to taste Azira's nervousness along with any other emotions the man may be having. Still, Crowley swiped the box from his hands almost instinctively and popped it open. He caught a quick glimpse of the pin before the vision of how it was bought forced its way into his mind. The simple knowledge that the man had picked it out for him suddenly forcing its way into his mind. He frowned down at it. As a Demon he could sense corruption, greed, ambition... None of it came with the pin. Azira had simply gotten it to give it to the Demon and no other reason. It was unsettling. He didn't like it. Still... He tucked the box into his pocket shooting the human a glare. He wasn't angry exactly... simply confused. Still he lifted a hand and blew softly, the stain slowly lifting away and dissolving into the air. After a moment he straightened. "There, all better." He stated evenly as he met his gaze. "You know, human... Eventually you will ask me to do something that little trinkets can not pay for." He pointed out.

Stranger: The glare had Azira worried that this interaction was going to a step too far, maybe... But then Crowley was slipping the box away and the black stain on his jacket was dissolving right into the air until there wasn't a single discolored thread where it had been. Azira wasn't sure what to make of the mixed signals. How often did someone bother to thank a demon, though? Maybe Crowley just wasn't used to it and didn't know what to make of it just as much as Azira didn't really know what to make of /him/. He smiled gratefully but the demon's words made it fade into something uncertain. "Oh... I don't know about that, Crowley. Really, this just gave me an excuse to thank you for your help last time. It seemed like something so simple for you to do but it really took a lot of weight and worry off my shoulders, that means a lot to me. But otherwise... I'm pretty simple. I have everything I want already. I don't have much need for more demonic intervention than what you've already provided."

#aziraphale #human!aziraphale #good omens #crowley #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #omegle #rp #roleplay #crowley x aziraphale #m/m

54 notes · View notes

wooflesthatwoof · 6 years

Text

So I dragged my friend into the fandom pt. 4

Jayden’s back at it again with the screaming, I wish I could have squished in their reaction to the Moving On videos but it was too long- (parts one, two, and three!)

ACCEPTING ANXIETY, Part’s 1 and 2:

“The title scares me more than you could ever know”

“Wow Mo you didn’t tell me you were in a video”

“My son”

“Is ‘you good fahm’ a joke now?”

“Can we keep the fourth wall in once piece please-”

(”Time out for thee and time out for thee, focus on issues or focus on me”) “I can actually see you saying that-”

“Heck ye Mulan”

“So many Disney references-”

“Oh is that where the “famILY” comes from?”

“Thank you Patton, for pointing out the obvious”

“Logan is the first to try and summon Anxiety”

“Roman how dare, Anxiety is important”

“Roman please”

“That wasn’t an actual laptop right?” (”[Me] It’s a prop, don’t worry” “Okay good”

“Roman quit denying it, Anxiety is important”

“Roman”

“Wait rooms? They have rooms?”

“Really? A cliffhanger? Well heck”

“Roman is salty, this whole intro is pure salt”

“Patton is relatable”

“Roman’s scream tho-”

“Logan is the one to apologize?”

“Quack” (”[Me] ..you don’t understand why that upsets me” “it’s because you saw something angsty and now you can’t unsee it” “[Me] Okay maybe you do understand-” “*fingerguns*”

“I’m gonna start using ‘I love my dark strange son’ now”

“Roman stop-”

“Logan is the one to defend Anxiety?”

“I like the eyeshadow, subtle, sleek, beautiful”

“Oh how my Analogical heart screams with joy”

“Roman stop-”

“Is ‘pump the breaks Princey’ a joke now?”

“‘A prince has got to slay’ is probably the best thing I’ve heard all day”

“I lov Patton”

“My son, calm down”

“Is the curve thing a joke now?”

“Calling Anxiety an alarm clock is really accurate tbh-”

“I was wrong, “E=MC scared” is the best thing I’ve heard all day”

“Aww, Princey being fluffy”

“Oh heck, I use that breathing exercise thing sometimes-”

“Patton being relatable again”

“wAIT ARE WE SERIOUSLY GETTING HIS NAME-?”

“HOLY HECK WE’RE SERIOUSLY GETTING HIS NAME-”

“Same, Patton, same”

“i love it, it isn’t related to roman like i thought it would be, but i love it” (”[Me] Mm, well..” “sHUT UP, YOU HAVE TO BE JOKING” “[Me] Watch the Q&A, trust me”)

BEHIND THE SCENES Q&A:

“I’m upset I can’t do the crab claw thing”

“I like that this all came from one random little video, I’d bet money that they didn’t expect it to become a legit series”

“Sometimes I forget they aren’t real” (”[Me] Most of us do” “Oh good, I’m not completely insane yet”

“‘FanderFoonds’“

“Wait I was right about the L-O-G/P-A-T thing-??” (”[Me] I told you it was right-” “Yeah but still, I thought you were joking-”)

“Oh my god Virgil is related to Roman-” (”[Me]” I told you this!!” “i thOUGHT YOU WERE LYING”)

(”People liked the clock”) “I loved the clock”

“I lov these dorks”

“Usually I don’t like behind the scenes things but this is cool”

“Oh it was Talyn screaming for Roman, that makes a lot more sense than it should-”

“M’kay so while I’m thinking about it when do we meet the snek that you always scream about” (”[Me] That’ll be a while honestly” “Well heck”)

“‘Vetal miking’ is most definitely a joke now isn’t it?”

“Can’t you do the thing? Like the ‘not having friends to stand in for eye-lines’ thing” (”[Me] Uh, no..?” “Shut up yes you can”)

“I love all the positivity in these things, it’s so nice”

“This is such a happy lil video”

Fitting In:

“I’m warning you right now I will be screaming about this”

“Logan is salt”

“’Panic at the everywhere’ is my second favorite nickname from Roman” (”[Me] Second?” “Hot Topic” “[Me] Ah”)

“My dark strange son”

“Yes yes exposition cool whatever let’s get to the houses”

“Oof, Virgil needs hugs”

“Tonks was great”

“I’m still salty about that line, calmly they said”

“Patton is relatable once more”

“No that isn’t right- The houses are wrong-”

“Crofter’s!”

“EXACTLY YOU FOOLS VIRGIL IS NOT A SLYTHERIN”

(”You didn’t ruin anything”) “Logan defending Virgil again”

“Roman isn’t a Slytherin either you fools”

“YES FINALLY SOMETHING ACCURATE”

“and back to being wrong okay”

“Roman chill please”

“Virgil is a Hufflepuff and you can fight me”

(”[Me] Just for clarification, who’s what house?”) “Roman’s Gryffinpuff, Virgil’s Ravenpuff, Patton’s Ravendor, Logan’s Slytherin” (”[Me] That.. actually makes a lot of sense?” “Mhm”)

“Roman is salt”

“Yes, Logan is a Slytherin you f o o l s”

“Virgil is the one to point out Gryffindor Patton?”

“That- thAT IS NOT A REQUIREMENT FOR RAVENCLAW!”

“okay fine the hat would take your opinion into consideration bUT STILL”

“Logan is salt”

“virgil is a ravenpuff, f i g h t m e”

“Ooo new outfits”

“My goodness, the way Virgil looked at him-”

“oH MY GOODNESS VIRGIL LOOKS AMAZING”

“Patton is relatable again”

“Roman said shook”

Stay tuned for next time, where Jayden screams in panic about the Moving On videos-

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #my friend reacts to sanders sides

12 notes · View notes

sibilantly · 7 years

Note

hi, sib. i sent you an ask about writing a while ago and you were super helpful, but i have found myself in yet another conundrum - i'm blocked. it took me some time to figure out why, and i'm pretty sure it's 'cause i'm supposed to be starting my mfa this fall and i'm just scared shitless. i'd really appreciate some advice on how to unblock the block. i just feel so useless right now. this nonsense in my head is honestly wearing me down.

You sent this several months ago, dear writing anon (as I now dub thee), and I’m terribly sorry I haven’t replied before now. RL got in the way of my online/fandom time again, but, more than that, I’ve been musing and reflecting on the situation you described, and I’ve only recently been able to marshall it all into semi-coherence. I assume you’ve started your MFA already (CONGRATULATIONS, BY THE WAY!), so all this navel-gazing and advice may be moot, but on the off-chance you’re still stymied, here’s my take and (for what it’s worth) my advice:

The thing about ‘writer’s block’ (air quotes), which you seem to have figured out already, is that it’s really emotional block. And the most common emotion is fear.

It’s not surprising, really, when you consider the fact that writing is both a craft and an art. (Well… alright, every art form is a combination of craft and art - of technical skill and vision - but we’re just going to focus on writing right now). And, just like every other art form, the very best writing requires self-expression. Think of your favourite authors, both published and in fandom. Could you ever mistake their writing for another author’s? I’m willing to bet my last dollar that your answer will be ‘no’.

However, self-expression also means baring yourself. It means producing a piece of writing that says, in effect, ‘this is what I think, this is what I feel - this is how I see the world, this is my perspective on this trope/theme/topic, this is me’, and putting it out there to be looked at and judged by strangers. Strangers who may then have all sorts of reactions and opinions - negative ones, even - about not just your work, but about you.

And for the vast majority of people (myself included), that is fucking terrifying on a visceral, lizard brain level. In prehistoric times (or… whenever… anthropology is not my strong suit), being rejected by others meant isolation, which in turn meant increased risk of starvation or death by megafauna. We’re not in prehistoric (or whatever) times anymore, but rejection and negative judgement still hurts and looms large in our psyches because… well, the lizard brain is a powerful motherfucker that has gotten our species this far. It’s like that douchebag in your social circle that you just can’t drop entirely because they’re handy/annoyingly right in certain situations.

Anyway.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is: take heart, writing anon. You’re in good and numerous company. This fear - this emotional block - you feel is common. It’s unbelievably common. I personally grapple with it every week. Like, literally every week. From a certain evolutionary perspective, you could even say the fear is reasonable (DEATH BY MEGAFAUNA).

…however, that perspective is severely unhelpful in motivating one to write, so let us acknowledge said perspective like it’s an acquaintance we’re on nodding terms with, and move on.

The fact of the matter is, we’re not in prehistoric-whatever times anymore. Rejection will not kill us, no matter what the lizard brain keeps shrieking. And while the lizard brain is powerful, it’s also primitively dumb. Which means we can trick it.

There is a reason why pretty much every notable book on the art and craft of writing will have a chapter or a section which says, essentially: half the battle is getting your arse in the chair.

It’s because, a great majority of the time, getting started really is the biggest hurdle. Once you’re actually slapping some words onto a page? It may be painful, it may present its own challenges, but it usually doesn’t require as much effort as just. Getting. Started.

As the number of days you spend not writing builds up, the act of writing - even the mere thought of it - becomes more and more psychologically loaded, more threatening to your sense of self. ‘YOU’RE GONNA BE REJECTED AND STARVE TO DEATH IN THE DESERT,’ says the lizard brain. The more rational part of your brain says, ‘You’ve spent all this time not writing. When you finally summon up the power to do so, by some act of God, it’s going to come out mediocre, at best, because you’re out of practice. Why bother?’

And, look– to be honest, rational brain will probably be right regarding your restart writing attempts coming out mediocre. But it’s wrong about it being pointless to start.

Because here is something else you should tell yourself: writing is not just the words you publish. It’s not even just the words you publish plus the words you wrote in draft and then killed because you realised they were darlings. It’s not even all those words and the time you spent brainstorming and outlining. It’s all those words plus that planning plus the emotional work you go through - in character and as yourself - to get those words and ideas out.

Don’t get down on yourself if you have only one hour to write and you spend fifty of those minutes psyching yourself up to write. Psyching yourself up to write is part of writing. You’re getting your arse in the chair.

So, sure, maybe on day one you’ll spend just ten minutes getting some words out. But on day two, when you sit down again, you’ll remember: I did this for ten minutes yesterday. I can do it again. It’s like a gradual stretching and strengthening of a muscle. You should– no, you need to take your time, because writing is a years-long (ideally, lifelong) journey. You’ll need to pace yourself accordingly.

I’m not saying it’s easy. I have spent years devising weird tricks, strategies, and schedules to fool my lizard brain into viewing the act of writing as non-threatening (and sometimes I still fail and will stop writing for a couple days). I know it’s not easy. But it’s doable - you just need to find the right set of tricks and strategies that will fool your lizard brain.

EVERYTHING THAT I, SIB, HAVE PERSONALLY DONE TO FOOL THE LIZARD BRAIN

1. Automate that shit - COME UP WITH A VERY, VERY SIMPLE PRE-WRITING ACTION

Okay, so at this point, you might be going, ‘Great, Sib, but how do I get myself to start?’

And I say: ‘Automate that shit’. You can make the initial action (usually the action that requires the most effort) more likely to happen by making it very, very simple.

For (a non-writing) example, I have a weird thing about dishes. I don’t like doing them. What I don’t mind doing, however, is clearing the dish rack. But what tends to happen is, once I’ve cleared the dish rack and find myself standing beside the sink, I think, ‘well, since I’m already here…’

That’s what you need to trigger with writing - that casual thought of, ‘well, since I’m already here…’. The point of the pre-writing action is to trick yourself (or, at least, your lizard brain) into perceiving writing as being so simple, so easy and non-threatening, it’d be almost silly to not do it. This is especially important if you haven’t written in so long that writing has come to resemble a nigh-insurmountable mountain or a time bomb strapped right against your heart and your sense of self-worth.

Even if you don’t do anything else that I suggest (seriously, you don’t have to, I’m just listing everything I’ve tried on the off-chance that it might work for you), I’d say this is the strategy to try. The whole point of it is that it should require almost no effort to perform. Why not do it?

My personal pre-writing action is fifteen minutes of free writing/journalling (‘I’m not writing, lizard brain, I’m just talking to myself’). You don’t have to do that. But whatever action you choose to go with, make sure it’s easy and flows on automatically to writing. The point isn’t to force yourself. If you’re forcing yourself, the action is too complicated. You’re removing the automaticity of the process, and the whole point is automaticity.

Examples of pre-writing actions you could do:

1. Sitting in your dedicated writing spot. Just sitting there. You don’t have to write. But since you’re already there…

2. Summarising the last scene/chapter you wrote. You don’t have to write anything new. But since you’ve already picked up that pen or typed out that sentence…

3. Making a cup of tea (or coffee or whatever) and thinking about your writing as it steeps. You don’t have to do anything with the idea you came up with. But since it’s already formed… ;)

I know it can be embarrassing to set your bar so ‘low’, because it feels like you’re admitting you’re incapable. But you’re not incapable. You’re just human. You have multiple responsibilities, coupled with limited time and limited resources, both physical and mental. You’re doing the best you can with the time, ability, and energy you have. No one can expect more of you than that. You, especially, should not expect more of yourself than that.

2. Grab a notebook or open a document, and DESCRIBE YOUR PROCRASTINATION BEHAVIOUR(S) IN SPECIFIC, OBSERVABLE TERMS. Don’t just say ‘I avoid writing’ - be specific (says Arthur).

For example, here are some things from my list:

I open up my WIP, stare at the cursor, and tap the page up/down/delete/backspace keys for thirty minutes

When my reminder alarm for writing goes off, I open up my WIP, then open tumblr in another browser

I do all the household chores when it’s time to write

3. Take that list of behaviours and WRITE DOWN AT LEAST ONE SPECIFIC, ACTIONABLE SOLUTION FOR EACH BEHAVIOUR. You may come up with more than one solution for each behaviour. It’s fine. Write all of them down.

Here is what I came up with for the above:

Staring at the cursor:

Pull the page up/down and backspace keys off the keyboard (this didn’t work for me.)

Free write for fifteen minutes before starting ‘real’ writing (which has, yes, become my pre-writing ritual. It works beautifully for me because, after 5-10 minutes, it tends to segue into ‘real writing’. As in, I’ll start off writing like I’m telling a friend about what should happen next in the story - complete with tangents and sentences full of ‘and then he’s like, you know, completely aghast’ - and then as I relax and get more into the story, I drift into draft prose and dialogue.)

Opening tumblr at the same time as my WIP:

Install Clear Focus on my phone and StayFocusd on all browsers, and put a strict limit on tumblr

Write longhand in a notebook and then transcribe (this is my go-to solution these days)

Doing household chores instead of writing:

Schedule writing time only after I finish all chores (this is a meh solution for me - I can always find new things to clean, if I’m really, really trying to avoid writing.)

Write one hour before bed/when exhausted (this is like the non-alcoholic version of the apocryphal Hemingway edict ‘write drunk, edit sober’. Exhaustion gives you all the benefits of writing without your conscious filter with none of the cirrhosis or other alcohol-related diseases!)

Stick these lists up wherever you tend to write. Now whenever you catch yourself engaging in one (or more) of these procrastination behaviours, you also have a solution (or solutions). Again, it will not necessarily be easy. But in knowing your bad habits and being prepared for them, you’re setting yourself up for a much better chance of success, and reducing the likelihood that you’ll slip down the procrastination shame spiral. The rest is the unglamorous process of trying, maybe failing, and then trying again.

4. On the cognition side of things, ASK YOURSELF: WHY DO YOU WANT TO WRITE?

Why, given all the frustration and fear and isolation (because writing is a bit of a lonely thing, at times), do you keep trying? Write every reason you have down, and be honest about it. No one is going to see this list but you.

The reason I suggest you do this is because there will be days (or weeks, or months) where it feels like all you’re doing is eking out paragraph after paragraph of dreck. It’ll feel awful. And if you don’t know why you’re writing - if you have no goal to set your sights upon, or no internal touchstone to remind you why you’re putting yourself through this - it’ll be so much more tempting to give up.

5. I’ve said this to you before, but I’ll say it again because if you’re anything like me (and I’m still riding on the assumption we’re at least a little alike, because every message you send me I’m like, ‘ah, man, yeah, I feel you, I feel you’), some advice requires repeating before it sinks in. Especially when the advice is unglamorous. So. SET YOURSELF A SMALL, ACHIEVABLE WRITING TARGET, be it a word count or a set amount of time each day.

And when I say small, I mean small. If writing 100 words a day feels uncomfortable, set your target at 50. If writing for one hour is exhausting, set your target at 30 minutes (or 15, like I did! :D).

ONE MORE THING

Writing requires discipline.

There is the discipline of sitting down and doing the work, every day, even if you’re not feeling it, of course. We’ve all heard that advice, and we’ve all (at some point or another) gotten royally pissed off at it.

But there is another sort of discipline, one that flows on from doing the work every day. In working through the fear, you teach yourself that these periods of mediocre writing or zero writing are temporary, just little halts in your overall writing journey. That’s a kind of discipline, too - training yourself to believe, heart and mind, that the fear will pass, and the words are always with you, even if they’re not coming out the way you want. It’s just going to take time. Be patient, and be kind to yourself (which I know can be hard).

You’re not useless. You’re not failing at anything by being afraid, because the fear - and learning to work through the fear - is as much a part of the writing process as getting the words down. And the value of writing for a writer is not in the finished result, not really. It’s in the act of creating, in being willing to start, to try. If you’re psyching yourself up to try, then hey. That’s half the battle already.

You can do it, anon! I’m still rooting for you!

(P.S.: You’re more than welcome to message me off anon using tumblr’s chat function

#writing #writing is hard #do it anyway #text post #very very long post #writing anon #anon #anon reply

6 notes · View notes

houstonlocalus-blog · 7 years

Text

Album Reviews: Royal Trux, SZA + more

Royal Trux — Platinum Tips + Ice Cream

The live album is a weird thing because essentially it creates something aural that is enjoyed mainly as a visual experience. The band on stage, the energy, the crowd, the unpredictable is packaged as a listening experience. Whatever the idea of the live album, a kind of rock staple, Royal Trux’s Platinum Tips and Ice Cream is a document of one of the world’s greatest rock n’ roll bands. There is no real way to experience Royal Trux as the band they were, but that is not really the point here; the point is to experience Royal Trux. First up, I would suggest, as a convert to the Trux-ian religion, that this album be for the unanointed a crash course. It’s only 12 songs, and for a band as excellent as Royal Trux, there is so much more to explore. However, the 12 songs presented span almost the entire Royal Trux universe, from “Esso Dame,” “Ice Cream,” “Red Tiger,” “Mercury,” which are all early bangers, to later masterworks like “Blue is The Frequency,” “The Banana Question,” and “Deafer Than Blind.” The magnificence of this album is that, as anyone who knows the Trux can attest, there are no perfect versions of a Royal Trux songs, they have always been subject to interpretation by the band in whatever form they see fit at the time. “Junkie Nurse” is more boogie than the album version, but “Mercury” is a very true version in accordance with the original. The charisma and magic of Jennifer Herema cannot be captured on any record, but this does have traces of that magical dust. Neil Hagerty is a monster guitar player and that is on full display here, as Hagerty almost faithfully recreates every great Royal Trux lick and then some. At one time, the live record was the introduction, but it was also farce, add in more crowd sounds, overdub some instruments, but this is not that trickery because the Trux don’t play that shit. They do respect the craft, and the live album goes with the narrative, so here it is, you are welcome.

SZA — Ctrl

We all hope to exercise some level of control over our lives, to feel that we are navigating more than just participating. In your 20s, this is the thing, always trying to exert or display control and most times that involves our romantic lives, our parents, and our friends. SZA has made the perfect album for someone in that place, and there’s actually a song called “20 Something.” I feel like this album is a companion to Rihanna’s Anti in theme, it takes the living of life within the loves, betrayals and confusions of “figuring it out.” “Love Galore” is the sidechick situation, much like “The Weekend,” the shared love including the guilt and the lack thereof; I love you but not this. “Doves In The Wind” begins, “real niggas do not deserve pussy,” later to clarify “you deserve the whole box of chocolates,” the idea of being more than the object of and subjected to. “Drew Barrymore” is the clear hit of the album, however “Garden (Say It Like That)” could also fill that spot, a song of the joy of the delusion: “you’ll never love me, but I believe it when you say it like that.” The album bangs, the beats are ridiculous, but unlike other SZA albums, the singing is front and center, the lyrics discernible. It’s probably her best album in that sense. Get with it.

Andrew Cohen & Light Coma — Unreality

Andrew Cohen is/was a member of two of my favorite bands, Silkworm and Bottomless Pitt, and also, in my humble opinion, one of the best guitarists walking. However, that is not the (only) reason I was ready for this release; it’s also because Cohen has a knack for writing a song that is both humorous and thought provoking. Unreality is where we are, living our lives within the insanity that is living a life, the comic tragedy. “Your Biography” has the lyric “we were learning all the way what was important, what to give away,” a true tale. Have you ever cleaned your garage and decided to donate the popcorn maker that was once the center of your recreational existence? It happens. Musically, this is great guitar music. There is no rapping or fusion, I appreciate that, if you have been a fan you will continue to be. “Repack” is of the Silkworm style, a superior style. “Sugar Puffs” is for those of us who have children or problems with vices: “I’ve been living on sugar puffs, 43 years have been enough, they have melted into some stuff.” But maybe the puffs are ideas and there comes a time for change, a diet of the mind? “Midwest DTs” is gold, “Blue Dragon” is gold. Music is best when you feel things and think about things, and both happened whilst listening to these gems. So no, son, you cannot have a fidget spinner, go outside and find a dead body or a troll living in a cave like the good ol’ days.

House and Land — House and Land

The old world was fucked up. The Appalachians were a wild place in the early stages of ‘Merica with it’s unemployment and satanic possessions, but dammit, the music it spawned! House and Land are singing the songs of the old world today, but they feel modern because we are still affected by many of the same things, even the satanic possession. “False True Lover” is the “love song” as I love thee, thine has married thot (well maybe not thot), but here the beauty is magnified by the sparse instrumentation of 12-string guitar and banjo; it is mysterious and moving. God, in a particular space, represents a deliverance from evil, and everything is evil, so the true salvation is death. So death becomes a good thing, or deliverance does, and “The Day Is Past and Gone,” “Home Over Yonder” and “Feather Dove” all deliver the idea of transcendence, and they all sound transcendent. Comprised of Sally Anne Morgan and Sarah Louise Henson (The Black Twig Pickers), the instruments here — 12-string guitar, banjo, shruti box, upright bass — are all naturally amplified. These are the sounds of folk and Appalachian ballads that evoke images of trees and mountains and natural law, but it is not an antiquarian affair. “Unquiet Grave” is like a free jazz version of folk. These songs are from a time, but they also represent the darkness that is. “Listen to the Roll” is about walking through a graveyard, the drone technique applied summons the ghosts, but ghosts of what? This is an excellent record, a haunting record, it is a space and a place, an environment. Also, if you have not heard Sally Anne Morgan’s solo albums, do that now.

Half Waif — form/a

“I’m so aware of all my moods, all my moods when I’m around you; What if I remove myself from all the action knowing that every mood is a reaction.” This is the way excellence starts, that magnificence is courtesy of the song “Severed Logic” from the brilliant release form/a. It’s the acknowledgement of presence and prescience, I am here because I choose; but if I choose you, I choose this, it is a psychological thriller. The suppression of the self is sometimes what it all becomes, “the highest I will ever climb is hardly high enough,” sung in ”Wave,” the idea that these limitations are imposed (externally and internally). form/ a explores the self as that which involves and evolves, but that one can never truly change something until there is a realization of the thing. Pop music does not always have to acquiesce to the idea of “dumbed down.” All of these songs could be about love or a person, or an obsession or an idea, which ultimately love is. “Night Heat” encapsulates the confusion of that situation perfectly: “I try to get away, but I don’t know what I’m after.” I need to leave this to go where? But all of these limitations: relationships, bodies, conditions, are all forms that can be reformed or abandoned: “and you have been patient through all of my storms, forgive me baby, but what’s one more.” This a superior work, it is incessantly beautiful and provoking, it is all and everything, I am engulfed and enraptured.

Big Thief — Capacity

Capacity, according to Dictionary.com, is the ability to receive or contain, and this can be taken many ways. In some ways, we understand people within their capacity, what one can you endure or sacrifice. Big Thief is never above the heavy, but here it is delivered with a gentleness and grace. “Shark Smile” is the fatal story of a car accident, but your feet tap as you cringe. Adrianne Lenker, the chief songwriter in Big Thief, is a beautiful singer and wordsmith, turning the awful into the digestible. “Watering” has the lyric, “He cut off my oxygen and my eyes were watering as he tore into my skin like a lion,” which is presented in a calm and subdued tone that speaks of a peace with the abuse. A helplessness or acceptance, and either is disturbing, but the song also jams hard so you are crying and while your head nods. The band also shines here, Buck Meek’s guitar lines pierce at the right time, the rhythm section of Max Oleartchik and James Krivchenia are McVie/Fleetwood tight. The band’s last album, Masterpiece, was good, but this is stellar, and I loved the last album. This is the sound of a unit. “Haley” is ridiculously good, and “Mythological Beauty” is awe inspiring. While these songs have subject matter, the album is ultimately about humanity, someone loves the monsters, too. We are all capable of terribleness, we can inflict and be inflicted, but we find ways, even in nightmares and breakdowns, we go on, scarred but alive. Excuse me while I pull this knife out of my side.

Kevin Morby — City Music

The soundtrack of our lives. The best music narrates our stories, helps to color our canvas. It is at the times the caption to the photo, it gives context and connection. Kevin Morby’s City Music is that, as you live your life in the city, these are the tales of the city folk living, loving, and lying around. “Come To Me Now” is the worried love, looking out the window into the night, staring at the phone, pacing the floor. “Dry Your Eyes” is the Solomun Burke slow jam, it is sad and grooving, it is walking alone at night, driving the old haunts, the unspeaking company of lovers; it is soul music because it stirs that. City Music is just that. The city music, the tunes that accompany the backdrop and the drama, the downtown band in the bar, the guitarist on the street, the Mariachi band, the oldies playing in the restaurant, the cars and their jams. It is the vibrant sound of the city and being alive. If one were to listen to this album several times, the favorites would adjust themselves to the setting and the mood and it’s all here. “In my time of sorrow, you have a song I could borrow” goes the beginning of “Pearly Gates.” “Downtown Lights” ushers you into the night or the morning, it is the last stop on the trip, the journey through. This is a whole experience to be felt as such. Oh, that city music.

Album Reviews: Royal Trux, SZA + more this is a repost

0 notes