#but i think we've found a compromise that makes us more comfortable doing so? anyway here's our art and stuff

[neurovarious]

12 for the plural ask game!

send a number! (ask game link)

12: have you drawn anyone in the system? here's a chance to show off that art!

oh geez yes we have. a lot of us actually. we have an art blog but we've been afraid to link it to this one for a while but im also very tired of being afraid to do so... so. time to Not be afraid anymore and let our two internet personas become one /silly

uhh i guess here's some never-posted-before icon art of our dragon extranths since we have a whole subsystem of them

(left to right: akir, artie, aoife. why do they all start with A)

the signature, weirdphilosopher, is our name on most other sites. if you search it as a blog url you'll actually find our flight rising blog first though, our art blog on tumblr is @furgalicious!

also speaking of art, just remembered systember (plural art event similar to inktober) starts. like. now. so. time to start brewing things up for that (probably shouldve started earlier but ive been sick lol)

[bloggingboutburgers]

hi! I have a relationship question I hope you don't mind me asking, you're pretty much my go-to blog for stuff abt qprs 😭 how do you and your partner navigate conflicting emotional needs? for example physical affection and date-like activities, things that one of you really values and would want in order to feel supported but that are too far out of the other's comfort zone. ofc communication is always key, but once you communicate both of your needs where do you go from there? how do you two find ways to balance both of your needs where each of you feels supported and that your needs are being met in a way that doesn't compromise the other's boundaries? I'm sure this is a thing in even romantic relationships too but in my experience this is a little harder to navigate in a qpr, and it's something I'm struggling with atm, so I'm grateful for any advice and experiences you would be willing to share! 🙏

Sorry you're having trouble in that sense TwT I'm sure it's an issue that happens in a lot of types of relationships indeed, but it doesn't make it any less difficult!

To be honest though... I guess I'm lucky, because my QPP and I don't have that many issues in that sense, I don't think? Our needs and wants typically align pretty well, and if one of them IS too much for another's boundaries, we typically have no issue communicating honestly and moving on from it fine. Maybe it helps us that both of us (especially them) have had to be extra-aware of our respective families' wants and needs more than our own growing up, and we're very aware of that, so we want to give each other room to vibe the way we both want to? (I'll say though, I kinda sucked at that on our early years. I'd sometimes throw stupid tantrums and be an ass about such insignificant things, but I want to hurt them and put pressure on them less than anything, so I guess I've quietly strived to become better at it year after year... Maybe time and self-reflection over time just helps sometimes?)

That said... Yeah, it's not happened often that we've found things we weren't compatible on that left us at a dead end. And in some rare cases where we don't really know yet how things are gonna go if it comes to this or that, we have a bit of a "we'll figure it out when we get there" approach, I feel?

No idea if that's gonna keep on fine like that or if it'll bite us in the ass in the future, but to be honest, the only way we'll find out is to go ahead and see. And so far so good. I guess that's the way I see it anyway? But... Yeah I'm definitely one of the lucky ones I feel TwT Even though I'm always afraid of doing things that hurt my partner without realizing and letting that sit for years... I try to take measures so I never do, and so, if anything IS going badly, I don't fail to notice it. Don't wanna make the same mistakes my parents did and stuff.

...Ofc that's just my view on that, my partner @civiart might have a totally different response to this so I'll let them correct/complete if they feel it's needed TwT But I hope I'm doing our case justice!

[rotationalsymmetry]

Morning catching up on golden enclaves (spoilers): (also Gideon the ninth spoilers):

Well. If Fortitude is London, then what is Patience? Is Patience the Scholomance or is it New York or what? Gah.

But I guess that explains why something was off with London but it didn't fall. Although I have no idea how El is identifying it as Fortitude specifically.

Anyways. More fun stuff. Orion is basically Harrow. I'd be craving a fic of them talking about it (absolutely fascinating to imagine Harrow's reaction to someone else having a higher conception body count) except neither of them would under any circumstance talk about it. Nor would El talk about anything. The only time El talks about anything is when she's narrating. As far as I know, Orion still doesn't know that she took out a maw-mouth in book one, and her mum still doesn't know the first thing about El's graduation. El, spending an entire trilogy grimly refusing to acquire catharsis about anything.

I do like Ophelia as a villain. We've only seen her once and she's absolutely terrifying, and also has a great self-justification talk. (I do like moral ambiguity and...not sure what word to use, reversal of expectations? So I was open to her being right about using malia being potentially the more ethical option in context, but then I thought about it for two seconds and her obvious comfort with deception convinced me that that was not where the story was going, making that just a classic villain justification speech. And I think there's a nice parallel between what Ophelia says to El and Liesel trying to recruit her, earlier in the story El's difficult choices are about selfishness and survival and taking personal risks, now they're about resisting the idea that she can help other people better if she makes compromises.

I want to say something about climate change and Ophelia's speech. That thing where she's so insistent on blaming independent wizards' cheating and not large scale enclave malia usage. Kinda the pay attention to individual carbon footprints (and not corporate consumption) thing. I really like how many aspects of the story nod at real world social justice/political/environmental issues, without being heavy handed and with having some fluidity. Mana/malia is about money and mana/malia is about sustainable energy/fossil fuels and enclaves are about class and enclaves are gated communities and enclaves are about private schools where some kids' parents pay their way and some are on scholarship and everyone knows who's who, and the "maintenance track" thing is about having to work while you study because you can't afford not to and both that and the mals outside the enclaves are about how physical labor wrecks people's bodies.

It's pretty cool.

And there's this tension where it's a chosen-one fantasy story but chosen-one/superhero fantasy stories intrinsically don't map that great onto how to solve these problems in the real world, where we have neither chosen ones nor superheroes and have to make do with crazy stuff like protests and unions and advocacy groups, and I do appreciate that Novik is going out of her way to create situations where El cannot do it alone and needs substantial help, but there is still a tension there. And I'm kind of not sure what to make about malia. Wage theft or general exploitation (or like...owning a private jet) doesn't make you super healthy and attractive right until you collapse in on yourself, you just get all the health benefits that being rich can provide until you die. It kind of feels like there's this religious moralism, sin or karma or something, weaseling into an otherwise relatively hardnosed down to earth story about inequality.

I do like the...I mean, it's nightmare fuel, but the way the enclaves are founded, the horror under everyone's feet that they can't feel and don't know about but it's there. Chef's kiss. Perfect metaphor, for growing up and being told your world is good your society is good, and then you find out about things like slavery and colonialism and let it sink in for a bit. But you still have to live. But also your society might end up eating you.

(Plus also maybe you were told that you have a good life, but you're weirdly miserable for someone who has such a good life, and have never had a way to make sense of it.) (I mean. I know where I am in this story. I'm not El. Social location wise, I grew up in an enclave. So. It's a different experience than El's is, where her struggle isn't about figuring out what to do when the thing you've materially benefitted from but psychologically endured agonies for turns out to be evil.)

[rainbowtvz]

Fire and balance for the self ship Wizard101 ask game!!!

@pr0minenceburn

fire;

sal: music! and art. both listening to/looking at and making it. we've made plans to have a jam session together when we can. and I also found a nice violin that i'd love to get my hands on and i think he wants to gift it to me. and for art, he's not the best at drawing but he definitely loves watching me do so, and paint. it feels like i'm bearing my soul to him and he takes extra care of it for me when i do :3

absynthe: definitely art, food, and gardening, more so the latter two. absynthe and i are both artists so we take turns showing each other what we've drawn, but we definitely connect more over gardening and our love of food :3. she has a big green thumb and while i'm not an expert i'm pretty good at growing stuff myself. i'm always in awe at how simple and easy she makes it all look lol. and as for food, well we're both foodies and the way to someones heart is through their stomach, supposedly.

johnny: music as well as punk culture and sticking it to the man. the way we approach this has similarities as well as differences, since he's more selfish and in it for revenge, as well as just being anti-corpo in general. wheras i am more concerned about fighting for the underdog, serving justice, and the environment and the future of the planet. we get into arguments about it sometimes because of how strongly we feel about our stances.

eddie: eddie and i are practically twinsies in the things we're both passionate about, ranging from music, alt culture, nerd culture, to both being queer in the 80s. like we have so much in common that sometimes we finish each others jokes.

john: john and i are still getting to know each other and learning how to navigate our relationship but we are both extremely passionate in our own ways, just in very different directions. we both care so much about doing the right thing. the way it manifests in our words and actions couldn't be more night and day though. it makes it tough to compromise and meet each other half way but true love isn't overnight and it takes work.

balance ;

sal: sal is the introvert and down to earth go with the flow guy to me ambivert head in the clouds worrier self. where my weaknesses lie he steps in to provide strength and vice versa. of course i don't have to go it alone and neither does he because i am also dating absynthe. and while he's not, they're still good friends.

absynthe: she and i are definitely two peas in a pod! it's hard to find differences between us in a way that we balance each other out. i guess it's more her energy in general vs mine? or the way we approach and handle things. she's more shy and introverted than i am, but not exactly like sal is. sal is way more reserved and harder to open up to others. so i guess i'm sort of a bridge between them and that world since i'm an ambivert. i love being social when i am in my comfort zone, but i have to go home and recharge too. and i always know that she's my safe person. i can be around her even when i'm low on social battery.

johnny: johnny has energy for days. like he is just. so extremely extroverted. and he's an asshole. but he takes care of the social and people aspect when i can't and he barely complains about it because he knows that i need breaks from dealing with others. it's more of a snarky complaint anyway because he likes to tease me and get me riled up. it's fun for him. he fills in gaps that i have, knowingly or not, and i keep him grounded and level headed. i guess it's sort of a moirailegence (or however u spell that) in terms of what a pale relationship is from h.omestuck lol. but definitely not platonic. far from it. when he's out of line i bring him back down to earth and calm him and he does the same for me when i end up splitting. he knows he can't get this kind of care and compassion anywhere else and while things can be tumultuous between us, what we feel for each other is real and worth all the headaches, and the heart palpitations.

eddie: eddie is also extroverted! but in a fake it til you make it way. and he's so good at it. it has me in awe. he's my inspiration and muse and my safe person, my home away from home. and i'm his safe space, the keeper of all his secrets and worries, and his voice of reason. i'm also his idea guy and second opinion that he goes for when he wants to pen up a new song or bring something new to the dnd table. the relationship between us is very easy going and light hearted, which is something we both need what with everything going on in hawkins :3. no matter where he goes or what trouble he gets into he can always come back home to me, and that's only part of why he loves me.

john: john is the business man. whether it's clean or dirty. whether it's his profession, past, or how he engages in relationships. his love language is acts of devotion and domesticity. he takes care of the spiders, of the things i can't engage with without becoming squeamish or nauseated, he takes care of me when i am fatigued, in pain, and/or sick. he takes care of me when i break down and he does it without complaint, because his love is unconditional, and it is never transactional between us, at least on his end. i always feel guilty that he does so much for me without even having to ask him and try to give back as much as i can, and he tries to tell me it's not necessary but i do it anyway. my love language is acts of generosity and physical affection. so i get him gifts that make me think of him or remind me of him, whether it's bought, free, or handmade. i make sure he's taken care of as well when he needs it. whether it's learning how to patch him or massage him when he's sore and hurting, or forcing him to take a break and let me take care of him. i remind him that i'm there for him every time i kiss him or run a hand through his hair, when i hold him, when we listen to each other's heart beat. we're sort of a shaky team when it comes to matters not heart related, but we're still a team.

[bennettjrbrody]

"Yeah," he agreed with her assessment. It really was. And then she turned from sounding like someone who lived on this street to sounding like her (them). Who cares if it's a little strange or a little less than perfect, as long as it's comfortable? The door could be closed, a compromise could be found. Things would work out. If he'd learned one thing between the time on the turf they both referenced, and now, that was his takeaway. All he could do was smile, a quick but genuine expression that floated away gently as they got a little more serious.

He's the best parts of you. Sometimes, these were the sentiments of hers that kept him up at night. He didn't know how, after he'd been so awful in so many ways, she could still feel that way about him. He didn't understand how she, of all people, could really believe he even had good in there somewhere. Those intimate and darkest of doubts, though, stayed firmly locked down inside him yet again. He both hoped it true and thought it impossible, and that was hard to reconcile. She kept talking, though, so it was easy to move past the thought.

"He will," Ben promised. He knew that as surely as he knew any core truth. At some point, Bear would test a limit, push a boundary, and there would be consequences. Every single kid, no matter how good or well-intentioned, did it. That was part of growing up. Not everyone flailed around like he had, guided by nothing and only stopped once his actions had destroyed someone else's life, too. He remembered all too well the same night she recalled, and how helpless he had felt. All he could think to do as she cried was to hold her close, without really even knowing many details of why she was so upset; he hadn't even been able to think of words to say, quietly devastated at how much being with him had already cost her. And that was before the baby was born. With no one to lean on either, and her immediate needs taking more precedent, he had just retreated, taking out all the disappointment and anger on himself.

He wasn't sure at this point so many years later if he was still doing it, or if the damage he'd done then was scar tissue, forever refusing to mold or accommodate new stress, or heal anymore. It probably didn't matter anyway. The only thing he could guarantee was, if Berkan did come to them the way La hoped, he wouldn't jump straight to anger. He would listen and he would try to help fix and encourage. "I don't know if he'll come to us or not, but I think we've at least laid the groundwork. At least he knows we're here."

Desperate to dispel the lingering plagues within him, he brushed his finger down the side of her face again as she spoke, hoping for a rush of affection for her to overcome it. That hope was in equal measure to hoping he wasn't so somehow broken that one wouldn't come. Some struggle between the two tender kinds of hope fluttered within him until she suggested they plant a tree for their son, as her father had done for her and her sister. They could take something good she'd had, if only for a moment, and carry it forward. A tradition. It refocused his energy on what they were doing, instilled with another reminder of why. He could make up for the ways he was insufficient. He owed it to both her and their son to try, to try relentlessly. Because the rest of it, compounded by guilt, would always be there, too.

"That's a good idea," he said. "I can learn how to keep a garden. Because right now," his words trailed as his eyes widened slightly and he breathed out a small laugh, more air than actual sound, as if to say 'I have no fucking clue' without adding such harsh words to an interaction that was so otherwise mellow.

Her blue-eyed gaze landed on him, crystal clear, and he could only bear to meet her eyes for a moment before his eyes fluttered close and his head bowed. As if her gaze hadn't done enough to see right through him, her words landed next. Those words would always find their purchase, they would burrow deep. He didn't know why it hurt a little to hear them, but it did. It always had. His breath stuttered and, though his mouth made the shape of the words, an echoing I love you, no sound gave them weight.

Even as he failed at the basics of talking, his hand floated over her arm, keeping her close, providing texture and connection in some real way. Then she was kissing him, her hand was sneaking under his shirt and onto his skin, and he really couldn't be troubled to think of anything else or to say anything else. He nodded, yes now, kissing her deeper and twisting to pull her onto his lap, shuddering again as she spoke in his ear, her words once again going all the way through him. His hands mirrored her as if it wasn't clear enough to him that all he'd ever really done was follow her lead anyway. "Then take me," he whispered roughly, finding his voice to some extent, but not quite able to split himself open enough to follow it up with the words he thought, however unfair it was to withhold them.

I'm yours.

"The aesthetic is gouache." She replied quietly, playfully. Her mother would have never let something like that fly. Once when Lale was a young girl, she wanted to decorate her room in a Sailor Moon theme with bright pink and blues, and the idea alone was enough to send her mother into a tizzy. She had to go to bed early to sleep off the headache the request brought. For the most part, Azra was a good mom. At least before she abandoned them, but at her core, she was still a wealthy woman with impeccable but limited taste.

"We'll just keep his door shut," Lale whispered, mostly teasing. She happily existed in a moment so serene that she was afraid to sigh too loud or move too quickly. She wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible. Besides, Berkan was a good boy and deserved to make his room feel like it was his, even if it had belonged once to someone else, even if his design choices were super on the nose. "The time on the turf was pretty nice." She admitted quietly. Lale had missed it for the simpler time it was. Before her womb grew and the varsity sweaters stretched and no longer fit her making it impossible to hide the truth and ending with her having to give up her last year. Thinking of her son now, she knew it was worth it because he was the best thing she'd ever had a hand in creating.

Lale softened, her gaze on his face while he shared something that felt so intimate she wanted to pause and spend hours finding the perfect words to encourage more and more of him. Fourteen years and Lale felt like there was still so much to discover about Ben. She longed to know him as fervently as she longed to bury herself. "He's the best parts of you." Lale settled on truthfully. "He's a good boy. I'm afraid he's going to do something. Eventually, we don't love. I hope he comes to us. No matter what, I'll know we've done a good job if he comes to us."

Lale hadn't had a parent to turn to when the test held two pink lines. Just an aunt who she hid it from until she'd grown too big for her not to notice. Even then, Lale couldn't find it in her to care when Miray expressed disappointment in her. None of it had mattered until she claimed her father would be ashamed. Those strung-together words were enough to snap the self-restraint Lale had curated and held onto for dear life. The ensuing fight between Miray and Lale had been so cruel and damaging she'd never spoken of it. Not even when she went to Ben, her face sticky with tears and her fingers curled into fists. Lale drew a slow and deep breath, holding it inside her as she thought over his question, his words. They filled her with more hope than she could verbalize. Their hold on her, how they wrapped her up and flooded her with warmth, made Lale feel impossibly vulnerable, reminding her of how much she loved Ben. When it was good, she sighed quietly and exhaled, "My father's garden." Lale didn't often speak of the man who their son had been named. It was too difficult. So much of her home had been altered by her aunt, but his garden was overgrown and desolate. "It needs some care, but I think it could thrive again." Lale smiled now, "We could grow flowers and herbs, some vegetables." Her eyes briefly moved towards the sunroom. "There are fruit trees, one for me and one for my sister. We should plant one for Berkan. What do you think?" Her blue hues landed back on him with loving ease- they were real. They were here. The comfort they could sometimes exist so effortlessly was enough to make her chest flutter with all her unsettled hope that she kept to herself. All her desires and best-kept secrets fluttered and made her head dizzy with love, love, love. It was so easy to forget when he had broken her heart. Effortless to slide into how Lale felt things were always supposed to be if he'd never gotten injured or had an affair. They were always meant to be this way, her naive hope promised, and Lale nodded quietly, "I love you." It was all Lale could manage because right now, she did, and it felt like one of the only true things she was sure of. For now, it was everything she could ever have wanted. For now, she felt his love and was content, happy, and hopeful. There it was, the hope for the future. Naively, Lale let it sweep her away. His words caressed her lips, and she punctuated them with a kiss, her fingers snaking under his shirt to dance along the curve of his side. "Now?" She asked, a low whisper between kisses muffled between their lips. Maybe her mind was clouded with more than wanting to grow their family. Warm, hazy desire rushed through her, and Lale couldn't think of anything she'd rather be doing than pressing her lithe body against the contours of her husband's body. She almost wanted to ask nicely, but instead, she kissed again along his jaw towards his ear, where she whispered, "I want you."

[the-coffee-story]

Rise of the Forest God

Chapter 17 - Professor Tally Winchester

Winchester Hall was a beautiful, dark Victorian mansion á lá Addams Family that rested proudly upon the tallest hill around. The windows, grey with age and dust were tall and skinny and a rusted iron gate, with weathered carvings now indistinguishable rested half swallowed by dirt and uncut blades of long dry grass. The whole thing blended rather well with the crawling forest behind it.

The team was waiting by the gate, curious and giddy with half-numbed nervousness.

"Well, now I'm definitely interested," Walther commented, peeking through the towering, rusted gate. "This looks like it's haunted by at least three ghosts who died a horrible death. They never found the heads."

October laughed.

"Seriously October, imagine the Addams Family's mansion, now scale it down a little."

He raised an eyebrow. "Can't wait for Morticia to pop out."

"Well, Morticia was definitely not on the phone," Violet noted.

Suddenly, the carved, dark-oak door that rested comfortably in the centre of the home's front opened, and a young man peeked out, adjusting his glasses as he took a moment to assess the situation. After a few moments passed, he noticed the team waiting by the gate, waved to wordlessly grab their attention, and quickly scuttled over.

Tally Winchester was a medium-heighted, slender and bald individual with large, wildly blue eyes behind thick glasses and a countless amount of scattered silver piercings dotted in and around his earlobe. Despite the fact that it was it had just dawned early spring, his skin was sunburnt and tanned, as if he spent most of his days somewhere lost outside. He walked with a noticable limp, and Walther didn't need to wait long for an explanation, when a prosthetic briefly appeared between his worn brown converse sneakers and faded jeans.

"Hi!" He flashed a toothy smiled at the group and opened the gate. "Great to see you, I'm Professor Tally Winchester!" He shook everyone's hands as they trickled past. The sleeves of his petrol flannel were rolled up, revealing a rather out-of-place, faded tattoo of a crawling lizard and a bunch of old scars. "You can call me Tally though."

Violet held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Violet, we talked on the phone."

"Great to meet you all!" He grinned. "Are you coming inside?"

***

"Before anyone asks, I inherited the house," Tally explained while leading them upstairs. "It's rotten and I hate it and the bills are a naked horror but I doubt I can find anything that has more capacities for a library." He opened a door. "Intrate, everyone."

"Remarkable," Doc commented.

Remarkable was indeed an understatemt. The room they'd entered was a library- with a beautiful brick fireplace and huge windows that let in the sparse afternoon sun, bookshelves brushed against the webbed ceiling and sunk into every wall. The floor was carpeted, through incredibly uncomfortable to walk on, and the furniture antique. One wall was plastered with photographs and notes.

"Nice," Walther mumbled, taking the second to once again soak in their surroundings.

Tally grinned, idly brushing aside pages and old notes compromised of incomprehensible scribbles and drawings. His teeth were somewhat crooked. "I didn't replace any of the furniture, but I did sell a chunk of the old books. There was just no space for mine." He closed the door behind them. "So anyway, you wanted to know about the cult?"

"There's been a bunch of murders in Forest Lane that were eerily similar to what it did, so yeah." Thasfield shrugged his broad shoulders. "We suspect the cult might be involved."

"Oh, I heard about that on the news!" Tally sorted the files on the table until he found what he was looking for. Then he looked up. His face was serious now. "At this point I'd like to admit I have a slightly selfish motivation in this."

"What is it?", Violet asked.

"You see..." Tally leaned against the table. "For context, I'm a history professor, but my focus is on cryptids and modern legends. Historical context, potential explanations, yada yada. A few years ago I stumbled across the legend of the Forest God."

Walther's face lit up. "Oh, I remember that story, my parents used to tell it to me when I was a kid! This one guy got lost in the woods, was found dead and after his funeral his reanimated corpse came home and his wife who loved him very, very much-" They side-eyed Violet and Coffee, who in turn glared back. "-couldn't accept that maybe it's not exactly normal that your husband's corpse is vibing around, then after a while he started killing people, then he killed her and then the neighbours buried him in an iron casket in the woods so he would stop randomly murdering people. Right?"

"You summed it up." Tally nodded.

"But who believes in that?!" Violet frowned. "I mean... it's just a legend, right? Somebody finally snapped, had a rough week or something, and people straight up believe his bullshit?"

"He came back from the dead and started murdering people, Violet," Doc commented.

She shrugged dismissively. "We've all been there."

"I don't want to meet you after a bad week," Tally remarked with mild discomfort, absentmindedly flipping through pages of notes and nonsense. "The existence of the man who allegedly became the Forest God is proven. His name was Eustace Wyndham and if you ask me he had rabies and some things were added for drama. But that's not even relevant, because the cult came almost a hundred years later." He slid around the table and opened another scattered file. "1969 they started to worship the Forest God. At first it was nothing special, you know, just the average college student nonsense." He held up an old photograph, subtle wonder in his eyes as he stared into it, before handing it to Walther. "Here, you can take a look at this! That's the entire cult. The guy in purple with the long hair is one of the founders. The other founder left in 1970 after getting a bad feeling about the whole thing. I caught him for an interview five years ago. Lovely guy, sadly died of cancer shortly after. It's a shame. You can pass the photo around! Notice how they're all wearing cow parsley wreaths. That was the flower associated with the Forest God and the flower scattered all over their murder victim's body, or rather what was left of it."

"All the victims had cow parsley in their mouth," Doc realized, dragging a hand up to rest in his soft ginger curls, staring blankly into the distance, thinking.

Tally nodded hastily. "Exactly! And now please look at what I found on my windowsill this morning!"

He limped over to the tallboy, half relying on the nearby furniture for support. Leaning down and throwing open a drawer, after a short while of sifting through papers and photographs, he took out something else. Then he held it up.

It was a wreath of cow parsley.

"That's....not good," Walther murmured after a long moment of stunned silence.

Tally nodded, twirling the flowers between his thumb and forefinger. "You get it. You know..." He leaned heavily against a dusty, worn table and heaved a small sigh. "When Wilhelm called me at first I was very sceptical of it all. I'm not a group project person, if you know what I mean. But this is just the tip of the ice berg and I have a feeling that I might be next, so I decided to work with you." He shrugged his shoulders.

While he'd been talking, Coffee had been furiously typing. He handed Tally his phone and Tally read it out loud.

" 'How about we use you as a bait?' Um... Can you...can you please explain what exactly you mean? That doesn't sound particularly safe-!"

He handed Coffee's phone back to him, paranoid he might accidentally drop it, and the detective started typing an answer, this time with significantly more determination.

Hear me out. So my idea was basically that tonight we let the killer come, but were going to be prepared. In other words, we gather a big group that's going to protect you, and we're going to arrest the murderer once he's here. What do you think?

Tally hesitated for a short moment and chewed his lip, opening his mouth to reply, then closing it again.. "I mean... I guess you have a point, sooner or later he's going to get me either way."

"I mean, let's be real, you can't run forever," Thasfield said, leaning forwards. "Even if you move, it's still going to take a while, and judging by what we know you're being pretty actively stalked, so it's quite possible he'll just follow you and then you'll be killed by a Forest God in a hotel room in Central Graytown. Which probably makes for an interesting plotline in a noir film, but we're talking real life here and I highly doubt you're so keen on landing in the morgue anytime soon. Although the Doctor is an expert at autopsies."

Doc smirked.

".........yeah," Tally admitted. He sat down on the table and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, that sounds...icky but realistic." He closed his eyes took a deep breath. "Alright. Who's gonna be on this team?"

Doc's phone's rang loudly to shake up their newfound confidence, and he excused himself, stepping back into the dusty hallway to take the call.

"I mean, most of us for starters," Violet said. "But I was also thinking of grabbing Gary Fox and Wilhelm. Strength in number, you know?"

Doc eventually came back to the group. His weathered face was stricken with subtle anxiety. "Bad news."

"What is it?", Walther asked.

"Alice found her mailman by the stables."

Walther frowned. "Okay, and what's so special about that?"

"His left arm was by the stables. The rest of him was scattered across the field."

"Dear God, is he okay?"

"He's okay, but he's dead." Doc turned to Tally, lowering his voice just enough. "Can we settle on tonight?"

Tally nodded. His sunburnt face had notably paled, turning his skin a somewhat pasty yellow. "Sure. What time are y'all coming?"

"Is five o'clock alright with you?"

Tally shrugged his shoulders. "Sure."

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Shortie

Inspired by this post.

@royalnerd829 I know you wanted this, and small Roman was just to precious to pass up.

Hope you don't mind I added a lil' ship in there. (*cough* LOGINCE *cough*)

\\\

"Oh," Roman groaned, pouting, "-you've got to be kidding me."

On his cabinets highest shelf, was the icing he had been frantically searching for. For the past hour and a half.

Roman stared at it, squinting ever so slightly; as if he had mind powers to bring it down into his hands, to spare him from the embarrassment.

Virgil, the tallest, lankiest emo he knew, had been over that morning and probably had a scoop without asking.

Thing was, Roman didn't know if he had done it out of spite or just because of his constant appeared height.

Roman had really, really, really short legs, compared to everyone he hung out with, and he hated it with a burning passion.

So, as long as another person was in his apartment, Roman always wore a pair of significant height-atlering shoes.

Whether it be a pair of stilettos, thick-bottomed boots, wedges, or just heeled dress shoes, not a single person saw Roman without something adorning his feet.

And nobody ever asked about it either, which was pure bliss.

With all that being said, his barefooted self could not reach the shelf --not even on his tippy toes--.

"Princes are-" Roman pulled himself up onto the counter, "-elegant! What kind of "prince" has to get all up on the grimy counter, to reach the top shelf?"

Grabbing the icing, he chastised himself, "I'm much better than climbing on a counter. I am worth so much more than-"

A knock echoed throughout the house, it was quick, clear and precise without any hesitation or uncertainty.

It was calming sure, but it still made Roman jump and knocked the icing right out of his hands, busting it open onto his fantastic hardwood floors.

Roman growled at himself, sliding off the counter with a swift gesture and begrudgingly leaving the mess for future Roman to fix later.

Clearing his throat, he spoke with his normal tone, "Just a minute!"

Slipping on his --somehow heeled-- house shoes, he adjusted his hair ever-so-slightly and prepped for whoever had decided to visit his house at... 1:30 on the dot.

Opening the door, Roman was caught quite possibly by the most attractive man he had ever laid eyes on. He was tall (a big check on Roman's list), perfected hair, and rectangular glasses that captured his eyes --which were a deep, dark, ocean blue-- perfectly.

Roman was in a trance, this was quite possibly the best day of his entire life.

The man, who seemed a little confused, spoke, "Hello, I'm Logan. I believe we've been discussing plans on rental services? No?"

Roman furrowed his eyebrows, "Logan? Um, I'm not sure I've ever..."

He paused, this was the biggest romance cliché in the entire world, he was not going to lose this subtly elegant yet awkward man of his dreams: no, no.

"I don't think I've ever talked with you directly, I'm sure I would've remembered that face... but-" Roman gestured inside, "-please, do come in."

Logan pursed his lips, "Are you sure? If you're uncertain, I might just be at the wrong door. Which is easily fixabl-"

Roman tapped his chin, compromising, "How about, if you're comfortable with it, you just come in until we can figure that out? I can lead you in the right direction, if you wish."

Logan hummed, a little uneasy, Roman could tell by the fidget with his tie and how he kept adjusting the paper in his hands.

Roman chuckled, winking, "I don't bite, I promise."

Logan cleared his throat, "It would be beneficial, I suppose. As long as I'm not... intruding on so-"

"No, no-" Roman spoke, holding back his flirting because this situation didn't feel entirely appropriate for that, "-I'm not busy! We can work this out quite smoothly with the both of us, don't you think?"

Logan nodded, sitting where Roman had pointed earlier in the conversation; but not without handing him the paper that he had gotten for the shared rent.

Roman glanced over it, each word matching his apartment, him, his email address, and even right down to his phone number.

He arched a brow, trying to understand this; or rather, how this happened.

Just until, he got a ding on his phone; "Oh, I'm sorry, let me just-"

Emo Nightmare: yw, princey

Roman hummed, nodding, "So, all of this is accurate; I am Roman, this is apartment 134, and I do have an extra bedroom. But, I'm not the one who put up the signs. My friend, Virgil, did."

"Oh." Logan frowned, "So you're not looking for a roommate?"

Roman bit his lip, looking at the man before him: this is your chance for a lifetime of romance, just like the movies.

Come on, Roman! One cute roommate couldn't hurt, right?

"Not initially," Roman answered, "-but you're welcome to stay, if you'd like? We can work out our own plans, or go through what my friend suggested?"

Logan paused, "That would be satisfactory. If you don't mind, I have an inquiry."

"About the apartment? Or?" Roman asked, with a but hope on his tongue and a flirty smirk.

"Well," Logan continued, unbothered by Roman's advances, "-why would your friend get you a roommate? If you were fine on your own and didn't need to split the rent, what was his point per say?"

"I'd say either to prank me, or-" Roman smiled, "-because I kept complaining about my absence of romance for the past 3 years. He gets sick of listening to me talk about the Prince of my dreams, I'd assume."

Logan's ears burned bright red, "So... he found me to be a suitable --ahem-- partner for you?"

"I believe so," Roman smirked once more, "-and I have to say, he doesn't have bad taste."

"Anyway-" Logan cleared his throat, "let's get planning."

So, Roman had a cute new roommate, which was a plus; but he entirely shut down every advance Roman tried to make on him.

Well, that's what he thought he was doing; he couldn't really tell with Logan.

Logan was nice enough, a little uptight if he was really honest, but their personalities didn't tend to mend well at all.

Logan studied a lot, and he preferred peace and quiet when he did so, and Roman was a music/theater major and those two didn't mend well.

Still Roman found himself relishing in Logan's presence, drinking up all the deep morning voices and sparkling, passionate eyes he could.

With these feelings abound and arguments on the edge, Roman found himself in a bit of a predicament almost everyday. Because he had to wear shoes essentially every second of everyday.

Because Logan was hot, and there was no way that Roman was ever going to let a hot man ever see his true height. Ever.

He was supposed to be flirty and confident, how as he supposed to that at an astounding 5'2?

So, he had a pair of some type of shoe by his bed every morning; and kept his shoes on all throughout the apartment until he went to bed that night.

Logan hadn't said anything about it, which Roman was grateful for. He would die of embarrassment if Logan ever even so uttered the word "shoe" to him at this rate.

Just until and early morning, Roman tumbled out of bed slipping on whatever shoe he left by his side and wandering down into the kitchen.

He was specifically wanting something sweet, a bagel maybe? Pancakes? Waffles?

Just until a smell wafted into his nose, sweet and a subtle sense of savory; it had smelt like a diner you'd stop by because of all the good reviews.

It smelt... professional.

And sleepy Roman was entranced, so his feet kept moving and his nose led the way.

Thing was, Roman hadn't paid attention to which shoes he had adorned, and he hadn't been extra cautious with his steps because of it.

He got to the kitchen, squinting at the figure just across from him with a sense of curiousity and true childish wonder. Because god, did that smell good.

If that was Logan, he swore he would marry him on the sp-

"Greetings, Roman-" Logan hummed, barely flinching at the presence of his roommate, "-I didn't mean to wake you. I was going to let you know when it was all finished, so you didn't have to wait. As that seems not to be your... best quali-"

Roman interrupted, "No, no hush, Nerd Alert. You had something going there for you, just look hot and cook."

"I-" Logan's ears were bright red, as he sputtered to respond.

Ah yes, this was the best part about Logan, he was so easily flustered, Roman reminded himself, just quietly watching Logan cook, and he can cook. That's a plus.

Roman watched the sun frame his face, and his glasses fall just a tad bit farther down on his nose. It was truly, truly entrancing.

"Roman? As much as I imagine you enjoy staring at me without blinking for 5 minutes straight, I'd just like to let you kn-" Logan looked up at him and stopped, squinting at him for just a second.

Roman could've sworn that he was checking him out, which was incredibly... exciting. Until, he watched Logan's mouth quirk up, just as he focused on Roman's feet.

He was going to cry, to truly die of embarrassment; he hadn't even honestly remembered what shoes he put o-

Logan asked, quirking an amused brown, "Why... Why are you wearing hot pink stilettos with your silk robe at 7 in the morning?"

Roman bit his lip, shuffling slightly to the left behind a kitchen counter, "I-I have no idea what your talking about."

Logan smirked, and Roman felt himself go weak in the knees; he was confident, and Roman found that way, way too attractive.

"You know," Logan switched off the stove, with a stride towards Roman, "-it's kind of offensive that you'd believe me to be so... ignorant? I'm much smarter than you think."

Roman flushed, his heart practically bursting out of his chest, suddenly getting defensive, "I... I said no such thing. Tha-That's preposterous!"

Logan leaned in, "Don't play dumb, Princey. Since the moment I met you, you've never existed without a pair of heeled shoes. No matter what time of day, or what outfit..."

"I-It's just-" Roman stuttered, taking a few steps backward, "It's just a fashion statement. I don't even understand what you're proposing! Can you even- you don't have any evidence."

Logan was confident in every step he took, and Roman could feel the control slip from his fingers, "Roman, it's no use. I know you wear heels because you are incredibly short. There's truly nothing to hide."

"Pfft," Roman spoke, shakily, "-as i-if."

"It's a shame, truly-" Logan rolled his eyes, roaming in so close to Roman's face that he could feel him breath, "-that you don't embrace your height."

Roman was a little on edge, he wouldn't lie, but he was curious, so he asked, "Why is... that?"

Logan smiled, standing up straight again with a flirty gleam in his eye --Roman swore he was going to faint at this point--, as he walked just past him, "I've got quite the thing for those of short stature actually, shortie."

This was probably the first time Roman would ever be proud of his height; and it was only the beginning.

Who knew a guy you've been crushing on for months on end, could say one thing and change your whole world, huh?

[frogsandfries]

Actually,

So something else I wanted to kind of randomly ramble about.

Last night, we smoked, and I smoked kind of a lot--I haven't needed or even wanted to smoke nearly as much as when we were in Oregon, so of course my tolerance has plummeted. I'm actually not so keen on the effects marijuana has on me. I found it especially hard to write. I'm trying to reorganize my writing and get back on track, which I feel is something I say at least once every couple years and then slide. Anyway, unusual for me, I got a headache from smoking.

This is gonna seem like a tangent, but I've mentioned before, more in passing, that my friend is autistic. Lately, I've been coming to realize (and perhaps he's comfortable allowing me to see) exactly how autistic he really is. He was stringing his guitar the other day and--y'know those sounds that just send a chill up your spine or make you cringe? Every time he had to pull a string through, he had that reaction. We both agree how annoying this little airpump is that we use to inflate the air mattress we've been sleeping on, but he also has that visceral reaction to my vibrator.

Another thing he does that I don't automatically attribute to him being autistic is that he does numbers like I do words. I can tell him, I work from eleven to three, and he automatically tells me, that's four hours; or I can tell him how much my check is and what I'm spending and he can track what's in my account. If he would bother to commit it to memory.

The big thing that I'm not sure if I can live with is, I understand living with autism means living with all of the sensations, all of the sights and smells and sounds, all the time. This means that he has to be in the lead when it comes to touching. And as a Big Time Clinger, touch means a lot to me. (Definitely Tangent: There's nothing wrong with wanting to touch and be touched "all the time". If you're like this, you're just going to have to learn to compromise. If you're with someone who derides your need and makes you feel ashamed, it's time to move on. Find someone who understands and is willing to compromise. I'm not ashamed to be clingy; I've just learned to temper it; my friend who I'm living with now, in spite of his autism, tries to meet me halfway.)

Additionally, last night, he was really cross-faded and I didn't want to get him a shirt from the foot of the bed, so I offered him one of mine, since I keep my clothes at the head of the bed. He refused because he doesn't know my clothes.

I think I'm starting to notice, however, how he initiates foreplay. I had a really nasty headache last night, so every time he moved the bed or messed with my hair or moved me, it hurt. Sometimes, he pulls me by my hair; sometimes he just scoops me on his hand or arm and pulls me against himself. It speaks to my playful nature. I went along with it for a few minutes last night until, for reasons forgotten by me, he kept tapping on my face and head. I was also still a little too high and it was an effort to stay engaged, so the negative stimulation just pushed me over the line to full disinterest.

He had trouble sleeping last night, so every time I shifted in my sleep, he checked in on me. He seems to sleep better after expending himself.

I don't really understand why I'm so crazy about him. I don't mind my feelings about him, because after all, he just wants to be a good person. I think somewhere inside me, who we were when we were kids, how our relationship used to be, holds a huge sway over how I feel about him now. I know I've fervently been hoping, almost since I got to Oregon, that that rift I saw between them last winter is growing and that they both feel it, but I don't want to push the topic. I have to wonder if he knows his relationship with her was never real and it was always about what he could give to her. I have to wonder if his "thanks for your help", the rare kind of shining gem his parents talk about treasuring from him, was a kind of turning point for him.

I'm reluctant to be part of his pattern of cheating (or does he see it as cheating?) to transition from one relationship to another, and I don't want to justify it with his autism. I just want to be here, as I am, and let him know that I'm here, that I'm invested in getting to know him, but that I may not stay because he can't have it both ways. He's going to have to choose. I'm not going to rush him or force him. I don't want to get excited and assume I see where this is going.

But things changed when we got here. Things have seemed to keep getting better between us since we got here. I'm getting to know him from a completely different perspective and he seems to be in a better state. I hope he sees that, and that's why he's more cuddly than he was in those Oregon motels.

Man, I wish I hadn't smoked so much last night.