OK SO REMEMBER WHEN I GOT PROMPTS AND THEN D IDNT DO THEM? this is why. this absolute frankensteins monster. I just. I had this human!au in my head, and… now it’s a thing. A very long thing. With a plot… help. @velocifoxy@idk-and-idc-and-idr
Slow burn (not super slow to start w/ but it gets slower. Like. Really slow.) suuuper hurt comfort, probably gonna get nsfw in the future because. I hate writing easy things apparently. (There’s a one night stand implied that m i g h t not be the best decision the characters ever made. This does get addressed in another chapter, but not this one) really a lot of awful angsty metaphors that go on like 3 sentences too long I’m sORRY
Alcohol mention, emotional abuse, rebound, bad break up, poison/gun mention, v brief murder mention, gets a tiny bit nsfw at the end (they don’t even kiss, guys, Roman is just a big flirt who maybe makes bad decisions sometimes)
They say if you take little bits of poison everyday for years, you could one day be immune, if those little bits didn’t kill you first. Unfortunately, the same isn’t true for love.
Roman staggered out of the party early, words ringing in his ears. “Convenient.” That’s all he had been. “Convenient.” A step up to bigger things. He was famous, but not famous enough. Rich, but they had wanted richer. Soft, when they wanted useful. The casual voice over champagne clinking. “You didn’t think it meant anything, did you? People like you. Now, they like me! It was convenient to-”
Roman winced at the memory. He had to move. It was near midnight, and pouring rain, gold from the streetlights playing on every drop as they fell. His jacket and umbrella were inside, but his wallet and phone (dead, probably) still sat in his pocket, so he cut his losses, stepping out from under the porch of the grand, old house, still glowing with lights and people and noise.
He though little bits of love would be okay. But it never worked like that. He couldn’t just do a little. It was less like saying to take small doses of poison everyday, than it was getting shot everyday. The only way to be really bulletproof was to never hand someone the gun …He didn’t know where he was going. His dress shoes didn’t have the same satisfying click on soaked pavement as they did on marble or hardwood. His hair was flat, and clinging to his skull. He didn’t feel anything. So he kept walking.
He wasn’t sure how long it took, but when sensation returned, it came in the form of being cold. Then his feet hurt.
Looking around, the only light on was shining from a dusty looking store front. He doubted anyone would be open at that hour, but the crash of heavy rain was weighing on his senses, and his last stitch of self preservation pushed him to the door. It swung open with a halfhearted jingle from a rusted bell.
At first, he couldn’t see anyone. Every wall seemed to be covered in books, as well as much of the floor. He could hardly see the ceiling, but the shelves went past where he thought a regular ceiling ought to be and then some. Stacks of ancient creaking leather bound tomes, dog eared paperbacks, and bent, stained hardcovers nearly covered every inch. It looked less like a store and more like a… hoard.
Roman stood dripping on the doormat in utter awe, until something moved in the back of the shop. Sure enough, a face was poking out from around a bookshelf. The man had large black glasses pushed up onto his forehead, making his hair spike in every direction. He had red marks on the bridge of his nose from wearing them too long, and was blinking at Roman like he’d just woken up.
“Oh, uh give me a moment.”
He extracted himself clumsily from what must have been a desk at some point and unfolded from a leather chair he’d been sitting in, adjusting his tie and putting his glasses back on their perch.
“Alright. My name is Logan, what are you looking for tonight?”
He was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, his clothes crumpled. Roman was so shellshocked by the sight he nearly forgot to answer. He felt his cheeks grow red from more that just the cold. “I- uh- I’m not looking for anything in particular, I’m just… Browsing.”
He willed the man to leave it at that, he could pretend to look at books, warm up, call a taxi and go cry into his pillow without being recognized by a cute clerk at a weird bookshop. Logan squinted at him from behind the glasses, taking a step forward. Roman flinched instinctively back, shoulders bumping the glass door. /this is it, he’s going to recognize me, tell a some news site and get a picture as I run off or something. ‘Local star now local washed up wreck…’/
“Are you sure? We usually only get people looking for something specific… we only really have older, out of print books that people value as collectors… Sir? Are you alright?”
The clerks voice had nothing but honest curiosity turned concern as he walked closer. Roman realized his eyes where still closed tight, waiting for when he’d have to run. He opened them to find Logan much closer too him, inspecting him with a worried face.
/he’s cuter up close… wait no don’t do that bad idea/
“uh. Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
“No, no you’re not. Your teeth are chattering. Follow me. Try not to get any books wet. If you have to, drip on the romance novels on the left. They never sell anyways.”
The clerk turned on his heel and walked further into the shop.
“You could also go back into the rain, if you want, but I would recommend accepting help. You look freezing and probably lost, and nothing else around runs this late.”
Roman shrugged. ‘Local star murdered by weird book seller’ sounded better than 'local star found frozen solid on side walk’ anyways. He followed Logan back into the shop. Two large bookshelves split the space in two, creating a doorway between them into the rest of the room. A rickety wooden staircase disappeared into shadows at the very back.
To Romans right was what could almost be called a parlor, a large, deep leather sofa sat facing several cushy armchairs covered in fading fabric, separated by a low coffee table. On his left was a workshop of some sort, incredibly tidy in contrast to the rest of the store, a bright desk lamp shone on a thick, dusty book, which lay naked with its leather cover to one side. A number of tools stood like a row of soldiers to one side.
Roman let himself be ushered onto the sofa, which reminded him exactly how sore his feet were. He let out a sigh. It might have been a terrible idea to crash at a random collectors book store because the sofa was comfy and the clerk was cute, but after a night like his it was danm tempting. Logan was mostly quiet as he moved about the space, up and down the stairs to fetch things, leaving Roman to his thoughts. He stared into space, trying not to think them, until something warm wrapped around his shoulders.
He looked up to see Logan pulling a wool blanket around him, tutting under his breath. “It’s never a good idea to soak yourself to the bone like this. It’s going to take a while to warm you up.” Roman nodded dully, remembering how much of a mess he must look. /that’s probably why he doesn’t recognize you. The longer you stay the more you’re risking…/ he ignored himself, watching Logan move around the space. His shirt, already rumpled, was pushed up past his elbows, showing his arms. His hands and his slacks were covered in ink stains that Roman hadn’t noticed at first.
The wool blanket smelled like peppermint. Maybe that’s what Logan smelled like.
He was too tired for attractive strangers, he decided. He was heart broken, metaphorically and literally lost, who cared if he wondered if attractive nerds smelled like peppermint or not. He settled further into the couch, wrapping himself in the blanket like a cloak.
/you’re so screwed./ his brain whispered. /so very very screwed./
The stairs creaked, and Logan came reappeared carefully balancing two steaming mugs. He set one down in front of Roman, then lowered himself into the chair and blew on his mug. When Roman didn’t reach for his immediately, he held eye contact and raised an eyebrow pointedly. Roman sighed and sat up, peering into it suspiciously. “It’s hot chocolate. It’s not going to bite you.” “I know what it is! I was just-” the eyebrow again. “Fine, fine. I’m drinking it. Happy?” Logan hummed and Roman tried not to burn his tongue. It wasn’t good hot chocolate by any means, but it was hot. And vaguely chocolate. So it helped, at least a little. They sat for a while, until both cups sat below half, and Roman had a pleasant glow in his stomach.
Logan set his mug down with a decisive clack.
Roman immediately stiffened, and Logan backed up, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to tell me everything, or anything at all, really, but you clearly had a difficult night. I’m not sure what else you need right now, and some context would be appreciated. Besides.” Logan leaned back in the chair, eyeing him. “I don’t usually get that many mysterious customers on the nightshift, surprisingly. I’m curious.” Roman felt his cheeks heat up again, and scolded himself for being so happy for the attention. Most people assumed they knew everything about him. It was nice to feel… interesting, in a normal way.
/whatever./ his brain muttered bitterly.
/he’s probably just curious about the weird, wet idiot on his doorstep. You look horrible, anyways. Any chance at 'charming stranger’ was ruined ages ago./
he sighed, and cleared his throat.
“I… bailed on a party.” That was true, technically.
/say anything/ his brain urged.
/you don’t need to tell him how pathetic your night was. You didn’t ask for his help/
“I had a pretty bad break up.”
/really?/ his mind was screaming.
But Logan just winced sympathetically.
“That must have been difficult… do you… would you like to talk about it?”
Every instinct in his head told him not to. But he felt… warm. Safe.
“I… was seeing some one who… was after something specific. After …they got that, I was unnecessary.” His voice sounded small and broken in his own ears, despite him trying to keep it steady. When he found the courage to look up, there was no pity or disgust in the other mans eyes.
It was the most casual he’d been all night. Roman couldn’t help laughing.
The terror of telling things like that to strangers returned somewhat after that, and the conversation moved on to lighter things. Mostly about Logan. He found out Logan slept upstairs, for convenience sake, and that he worked part time as a substitute English teacher, when he wasn’t restoring books. Logan tapped his fingers on his chair like he was playing a piano when he was thinking. Logan snorted when he laughed, if you could get him to do it. Logan didn’t think he was very good with people.
Romans eyes were raw from crying, but he felt like the full effect of the night hadn’t even started to hit him. It was terrifying. Almost everything was. Tomorrow morning felt like some kind of deadline. Some kind of cliff.
Fortunately, it wasn’t tomorrow morning yet. Logan coughed politely, bringing him out of his thoughts.
“As nice as this is,” ('he thinks it’s nice!’ Part of him said. 'Shut. up.’ said a larger part) “my shift is about to end.”
Romans heart sank.
“Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
Logans voice was soft, almost… nervous.
Romans heart was on a danm rollercoaster.
“I… technically, yes.”
There was the eyebrow again. “Technically?” Bile rose in Romans throat. “I would… rather not go back in this state, but I do have somewhere to go. If you lend me your phone I could call a cab-”
“No! -I mean.”
Logan cleared his throat, less gracefully this time. “That’s not necessary. You can stay here. If you want, that is.”
This was familiar ground. Roman could feel his feet under him as Logan got more and more flustered. “And who’s bed would I be sleeping in, exactly?” Roman knew he was grinning at this point.
“Uh- t-there’s a spare couch upstairs, I suppose you could have my bed if you-”
“Not quite what I meant, gorgeous.”
Roman pulled himself up off the couch, and stalked over to the armchair Logan was sitting in. He was close enough to see the other man swallow nervously. Getting no signal to back off, he planted both hands on the arms of the chair, caging Logan in, and waited for him to make a move.
Throw him out, or…
One of Logans hands grabbed the back of his neck. “I suppose” he muttered, pulling Roman towards him “I wouldn’t mind sharing.”
Welp I’ve seen people doing skeletons sooo I did something different. Meet:
Name:Kewlo Gender:Male Age:uhhhh… I dunno but he looks kinda 18… Likes:People buying or foolishly buying his stuff Hates:people bothering his business Strength:Capable of self defense(seeing on the picture in the left)
BIO: More likely he’s a swindler, a vendor, a traveling trader to be exact. He sometimes sell good items for a good cost, low cost or high cost mixed with totally useless items making the travelers or hunters hate him. But you can learn a thing or two from him. His wise even though childish sadistically playing with people and his stuff.
He usually appears in most situations. Fighting moments, marketplaces, Everywhere! He brings his stuff sometimes at his vest or just a regular sandbag… you know what that looks like. Anyways if one that buys his stuff need as in really needs that one thing in his inventory. He raise the price of it(very unfair I know) but his stuff is so rare and unique you can’t even see it from other vendors(guess because he is an octopus and his connections with most people)
CAN BE VERY DANGEROUS.. he is brave. He doesn’t let people push him away. More likely when his customers threaten him, he isn’t scared. Example Goth, with his very creepy silence, PJ being extremely harmful or Scary being scary… he will just be savage enough to piss them off and stuff.
Capable of self-defense but still calls for help and act like a normal average citizen but if no one came to rescue he would just attack him with his tentacles
Star: Interesting but, definitely pj will threatening it but =w= pj is smart enough to acknowledge him :o
Y'all can go on and on abt how participation trophies are fake and shady and w/e but as a kid who knew I wasn’t good at sports it made me feel amazing to at least be recognized for my effort at the sport and there’s thousands of kids w/ a similar mentality and who don’t get recognized for jack shit and I frankly think it should be ENCOURAGED MORE bc that’s sometimes literally the only trophy someone will get and it’s better than nothing and the symbology means something for the better so y'all can take your kid-hating 5edgy3me sour grapes and shove em lol
Chill music for a not so chill summer. Listen to & enjoy while 8+ hours of music while relaxing on the beach, at bonfires, after-parties, long drives, etc. Although the genre is mostly electronic, I also threw in a few alternative/indie songs. Good study music as well, but let’s not think of that quite yet :) Artists include Shlohmo, Clams Casino, The 1975, Kygo & Yinyues remixes, etc.
(NOT) THE SWEET KINDS - a mix for Urban Witches in the Night(and there was a different kind of magic for the witches awake at night in cities of glass & steel, an altogether different kind of hunger…) [cover credit: X-X]
i.something here - woodJu X coMa // ii.grey veils - chainless // iii.on yr side - slow magic // iv.untrust us - crystals castles // v.yellow flicker beat (providence remix) - lorde // vi.very cruel - poliça // vii.pretty wicked things - dawn richard // viii.vulnerable (feat. travis scott) - tinashe // ix.outside - unison // x.out of body experience - xliexcryxdiex // xi.wvfflife - bl▲ck † ceiling // xii.electra heart (teddy killerz remix) - marina and the diamonds // xiii.tunnel - the hundred in the hands / xiv.butterfly (feat mimi page) - bassnectar
i think the funniest thing abt meihem shippers isnt how quick theyll hop on yu fr not liking the ship but that theyre all too much of a coward to give an actually good response w substance/let yu say yr side of the debate
I'm the newbie and am I the only one that finds it odd that what's his face that Hayley married deliberately leaves out Taylor when complimenting the Pmore? Like what's his face knows that Taylor and Hayley have been making music together since they were 12 and 13 yrs old and Taylor has been by her side for 16 yrs why wouldn't what's his face think the world of T or at least have enough respect to acknowledge Taylor works his ass off for this band too?
oh no you aren’t alone, many people hated this for after laughter and actually commented on his photo and everything and he replied to one comment like “she’s my wife” and kept deleting all the rest of them…… funny because, no disrespect to hayley she works really hard, but taylor did the majority of everything on that album (lyrics & lead vocals and probs some melodies aside) but he deserved credit and loooooool What’s His Face was p much like “idk a taylor york????? sounds made up!!!!!!” he might as well have said that