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seven sentences game

tagged by the lovely @sonofa-dream @underthedancingwillow @extinctcorruption i'm blushing, thank you so much <3

rules were unclear but i think you're supposed to share seven sentences from the last thing you wrote!

being vulnerable and sharing this unedited very last thing i just wrote instead of my previous, more polished last thing (screams into the ether) (yells do it scared!!!)

Adam can’t look away, head full of Ronan’s moody magnetism. Ronan Lynch’s eyes on you; it’s a dangerous thing. It can do things to a man. It does things to Adam. Ronan has this way of making nothing else matter. The volcanic centre of all things. Ronan moves, and the whole world shudders into place around him. 

as always, consider yourself tagged if you wanna join <3

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omg they're crazy can't take them anywhere haha— hey, guys. what the fuck are you doing to the tu-

(untied, untied chapter two wip)

more under cut

[extinctcorruption]

seven sentences game

tagged by the lovely @sonofa-dream @underthedancingwillow @extinctcorruption i'm blushing, thank you so much <3

rules were unclear but i think you're supposed to share seven sentences from the last thing you wrote!

being vulnerable and sharing this unedited very last thing i just wrote instead of my previous, more polished last thing (screams into the ether) (yells do it scared!!!)

Adam can’t look away, head full of Ronan’s moody magnetism. Ronan Lynch’s eyes on you; it’s a dangerous thing. It can do things to a man. It does things to Adam. Ronan has this way of making nothing else matter. The volcanic centre of all things. Ronan moves, and the whole world shudders into place around him. 

as always, consider yourself tagged if you wanna join <3

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seven sentences game

tagged by @tartadxfresa thank you! <3

rules were unclear but i think you're supposed to share seven sentences from the last thing you wrote! fresh out the oven:

Adam wasn’t pretty.  Pretty wasn’t enough of a word, neither was handsome. A beauty hard to put into words, even harder to translate to paint. His face looked carved by an unsteady human hand; features asymmetrical, sharp where they should have been soft. A palette original to his body: blue eyes, light brows, darker lashes, ochre hair, a flat-tint against his skin. Sunlit by design. Ronan spotted him from across Franklin Park, leaning against a metal railing.

no pressure tagging as always: @snowdrifting @extinctcorruption @cheeeryos @yiiiiiiiikes25 @underthedancingwillow and anyone else who wants to do it

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adam: i am so chill and nonchalant he has no clue i want him. i am unknowable. an impenetrable wall.

also adam, un-fucking-prompted: i'm like. super good at sex. by the way.

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FIRST LINE GAME

tagged by @rederiss <3 thank youuuuu!

rules: share the first ten line of your latest fanfics (or up to if you have less!) & tag ten people.

(for the sake of time i'm not including anything written under a pseud, like my bungou stray dogs fic as @fy-soukoku but yeahhh.)

i have a few fic and some wip so here we go! (i've been working on my starting lines:

published works:

untied, untied 20k, ongoing - adam/ronan

"Do you want alcohol at your party?" Blue asked.

take this pain, give it a name 2k, soon-to-be series - gansey/adam

He did not bring it up.

perils of fowl taming 8k, one-shot - adam/ronan

Late afternoon, the curl of summer heat creeping along the room as Ronan curled drained and depleted across sweat-soaked sheets. (being edited!)

wips + working titles (these are all fucking songs i'm not creative)

instead of your name, part of series, adam/gansey

Gansey came with a glossy label, smooth fresh print, arrow at the corner begging users to peel back for further information.

140 DAYS, multichapter, noah-centric (matthew/noah)

Noah did not learn his roommates name for two weeks.

the son, the heir, multichapter, blue & adam focused

Persephone Poldma passed away at 5:10 on the tenth night of May, a date and time that stood out to the medical examiner merely for crafting such a satisfying report header. He’d always enjoyed round numbers, especially those that compounded into one another. Once upon a time, he’d fancied himself a numbers fanatic.

sincerely, yours ???, breakfast club gangsey au

“It’s just for the month.” Gansey jerked his car to a stop, ignoring the whine and stutter as it moaned in discomfort.

untitled, one-shot probably, adam/ronan

Three hours, twenty-five minutes, and the five extra seconds it took to leap from bed to door - Ronan had counted the time between breakup to Adam showing up at his doorframe with a condom in hand and a gleam in his eye.

[untitled] multichapter, "homewrecker" adam, ronan/adam

First of all, Adam liked Gansey. Which made this situation objectively worse. (tag for all the snippets i've posted so far)

=

tagging with no pressure whatsoever:

@tartadxfresa @ronanlynchian @adanseydivorce @kojojam @sunflowersandscreams @harlotsforcinnamon @sonofa-dream @aqueerwindinthewillows (and anyone else who wants to join in <3 just promise you tag me. duh.)

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kavinsky being ronan's narrative foil. ronan who is riddled with self hatred, not knowing who or what he is, missing home, etc etc. kavinsky who is riddled with self hatred, but has accepted that. the only way he can deal with it is to hurdle forward. a car crash. the world is a dead thing to him, he is a dead thing too.

ronan "would you stop if you knew it was destroying the world" kavinsky "god that would be awesome"

he dies at the end of the story, but he was already dead in a metaphorical sense at the beginning. like antigone who stares at you and says she will die and you are complicit. kavinsky dies because he was fated to; he is the dark mirror ronan looks into, the person he couldve been if he hadnt, ultimately, made the terrifying and harrowing choice to like himself. to choose the world. ("it's just you. why do you hate you?" "i don't")

"life isnt just sex drugs and parties" "mine is".

kavinsky who stares death in the face with that riotous, hungry smile of his and dies in literal flames, by the hand of the creature he made out of all his anger and hatred. "ronan could feel it, how the creature hated him. hated kavinsky. hated the world". ronan and kavinsky who both make stalking figures out of their self-loathing, and only ronan escapes that pattern, like the albino terror tearing out of his dream.

the dragon has eyes of fire and brimstone, and under that, more fire, more brimstone. kavinsky who is dead over and over and over. born dead to a dead family, died when he killed his father, died in his dreams, died in the beginning when he knew himself dead in the end. "dying's just a boring side effect"

he is always described in terms of hunger. his concave chest, his ribs like roads, raised veins like the streets he races at night. a refugee's eyes. a hungry smile. they're all hungry, always, but his is a desolate, restless kind; the third horseman, Famine. "the creature had teeth, but those were irrelevant" because it's damnation itself. anger. loneliness. "you're either with or against me, ronan" "is that was you thought it would be? you and me? it was never going to be you and me" "with me or against me" ronan doesnt answer. "i'm going to fucking destroy you". he tries.

he killed his own father. he is alone in the world, and he saw ronan, and he saw himself in him, and he decided he wanted him.

"i know what you are"

"is that what you thought it would be?"

"you don't get it man. all i wanted was this" as he's watching their dreams clash and fight. all he wanted was this. seeking a punch because your body only knows that kind of touch. seeking the burn of acid and asphalt and searing tongues because that's all the warmth you think you deserve. once you eat too much salt everything is bland otherwise. so he pours the whole packet in, swims it it, it burns in his open wounds.

ronan calls him to shelter. kavinsky doesn't look back. "ronan thought of all of the times he had looked through the window of his bmw and seen kavinsky looking back" kavinsky doesn't look back. but he is, still, looking at ronan. looking at the dreams fighting in the sky. "it's you, why do you hate you?" "i don't" "it knew what ronan wanted. it wanted exactly what ronan wanted" and kavinsky is looking at the terror.

"is that what you thought it would be? it was never going to be you and me"

"the difference between kavinsky and us is we matter"

"it was never going to be you and me"

"the pair of white sunglasses lay in the dust besides ronan's toe. he didn't take them"

"it was never going to be you and me"

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hihihi I just wanted you to know that seven sentences snippet??? HO HO HO. LOVED THAT. (whatisthatforamiallowedtoaskiamsocuriouswhatilovethewayyouwritethem"imagoodcatholicboyTOOKMEOUT)

hiiii <3 thank you so so so much you're so kind ahhhh

that's from a little project i've started recently that came to me at 3am on a random tuesday because i love to abandon my wips to go on newer and more exciting quests

anyway: it's the 70's. adam is hitchhiking across the country because he ran away from home and he has a job waiting for him in california. ronan picks him up.

since you asked and i appreciate you soooo much, here you have another snippet:

He kept his arm out and the car kept coming, closer and closer, until he could see the driver’s silhouette through the glass. When it eased to a stop the tires let out a hiss against the pavement. The driver’s window slid down and a spill of dark curls came into vision. The man behind the wheel looked young, maybe Adam’s age. His nose was burned across the bridge, a small bump breaking its line, and he wore a pair of mirrored aviators. There was something restless in him, raw, volatile. Adam felt the pull instantly. “Hey,” the man greeted, voice low and deep. Adam assessed the danger. He’d heard all of those stories in the late night radio, about hitchhikers gutted in fields, bodies found out past the county line, nameless boys gone missing. “Hi,” Adam said back, already sliding the strap of his duffel up onto his shoulder, because if he hesitated, if he thought too long, he might lose his chance. “Come on. Get in.” “You don’t even know where I’m headed,” Adam answered, though his boots were already shifting in the gravel. “Where are you heading?” “California.” “Well, hell. Lucky you,” a grin cut across his face, “I’m westbound.” Adam hoped his instincts were still sharp, that he hadn’t dulled them out here under the sun. He crossed the road, circled the long blue hood, and pulled the passenger door open. The inside of the car was cool and it smelled like cigarettes and new leather. A rosary swung from the rearview mirror, its beads catching bits of light, and for a moment Adam felt grimy in his yesterday clothes.

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[insert title here]

The lock clicked. Footsteps on real hardwood flooring. A coat was hung on the hook left from the front door. Simple, clean easy. He was going to miss this flat once he left. Shoes went under the small hallway table. Cedarwood, lotus… citrus? The scent made him stop in his tracks. Adam didn’t burn incense. Never had. Incense was something usually reserved for…

Stepping out of the hall and into the kitchen/living room was like running headfirst into one of the huge blue mats school gymnasiums tended to have propped against the walls. When Adam was in middle school, to of the bigger kids (loud, tough, rowdy, also beaten by their fathers in a trailer and a house respectively) had deliberately dropped one of those mats on Adam. He hadn’t made a single sound as the unwieldy blue mass came crashing down on him. He had let the two bullies freak out over the silence, the bloody nose, and the wrist bent at an angle. He’d only opened his eyes once he heard the teacher coming. A trip to the nurse Adam could handle, a trip to the hospital, however, meant more pain than he could have imagined.

Middle school was years away now. Most memories about his life before work (and shortly after) had been sorted into boxes and neatly stacked in a corner of his brain.

“Hello Magician.” Persephone greeted him without looking up from his her tarot deck. “You’re home late.”

Adam stared at her, rug pulled out from under his feet. She looked just like she had in life. His first thought was It must be the sleep deprivation. His second: Where have you been? He couldn’t help the tears streaming down his face in silent grief. He didn’t make a habit of crying over people.

Persephone looked up and smiled softly. “Take a seat,” she said, “Pick a card.” Adam stepped onto the cool tiles and took a seat. I must be nearly her age. He thought. Then stopped. Persephone looked old and young, wise and childlike as she had always looked. There was no telling how old she had gotten.

Persephone nodded towards the cards, stacked neatly on a too-small coaster. (It was the only pedestal of sort Adam could find in the flat.) He knocked the cards over gently, spreading them across the small table in a spiral pattern. His cuffs latched onto a card, pulling it and a few others upward. He hesitated, glanced up to see Persephone’s encouraging face and let them flip. Three cards. He swallowed and looked away in shame. Thought of spiky hair, boat shoes, and a dreamt ring, hidden away in a small compartment of his toiletry bag.

“Remember that you are not unknowable, Adam Parrish.”

Her voice sounded faint, distant.

“NO”

Adam’s plea died as soon as it left his mouth. He sprung up from his chair, knocking a card from the table as he reached towards thin air, the smell of incense fading.

He skipped dinner that night. Let himself grieve the loss of his mentor all over again.

Before he went to bed, Adam picked up his phone and unblocked three contacts. He hit dial. While he waited, Adam picked up The Hanged Man which had fallen under the table earlier. The call went through. He took a deep breath.

“Hey Gansey.”

Then. “Hello Blue.”

And finally “Ronan.”

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seven sentences game

thank you @sonofa-dream for the tag <3

rules were unclear but i think you're supposed to share seven sentences from the last thing you wrote!

The lock clicked. Footsteps on real hardwood flooring. A coat was hung on the hook left from the front door. Simple, clean easy. He was going to miss this flat once he left. Shoes went under the small hallway table. Cedarwood, lotus… citrus?

@snowdrifting you've been tagged already but i decided there's no harm in tagging you again.

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to the anon: thank you for the prompt, i have seen it. i will likely start writing during my work shift tomorrow.

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while chapter two of Between Dog and Wolf is with my friend… does anyone want to give me some drabble prompts? Can be Pynch or Bluesey (or even Sarchengsey).

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lil favorite sentences tag game!!

tagged by @sonofa-dreamer <3

gimme your top 3-5 favorite sentences you've ever written, please and thanks (this is six but shhh)

in no particular order:

Between Dog and Wolf, ch.1 - Look at me taking because I have nothing to give.

from a speech I held at a local pride parade, unpublished - Meine Fahrschule hat mir beigebracht nicht bei Müdigkeit oder erhöhten Emotionen zu fahren, also parke ich am Straßenrand.

Um, let me think... - You can pretend to push the thick layer of distance and time and betrayal aside and laugh at his jokes.

WIP - It takes Adam a minute to dig through all the niceties Gansey has stacked upon the word rape.

Sunshine, unpublished - Both young men flinched as the shutter snapped through the forest.

Ronan trying (and failing) to take things into his own hand(s) - The other option would be flaying himself open so Adam can cut through the muscle and crack open his ribs to inspect the centrum of his devotion and take what is rightfully his.

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every day i think about ronan being named sean in maggie's original draft and thank god for intervening

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the mechanism of flight

Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish | E | 3k | 1/?

After, cheeks rosy-flushed and skin spangled with sweat, he’ll wonder why he did this again. He shouldn’t have come here. Not tonight, not last week. Not ever. But right now—Adam’s touch fireworking through him—he can’t bring himself to care. When he gets like this, he can’t think of anything else, head jammed with the memory of Adam inside him; the stretch, the fullness, the wreckage of it all.

A chance meeting in Boston, years after they broke up. Ronan knew it was a bad idea to fuck Adam. He did it anyway. He’s going to keep doing it anyway.

my sad, horny, vibey pynch is now live! (screams)

the most heartfelt thank you to my eternal love @sonofa-dream for successfully bullying me (affectionate) into actually fucking posting this shit. so, in a totally unforeseen (to me) turn of events, it's now on the internet, mwah <33

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prompt? ronan’s knees are sore from praying (catholic guilt moment) but he still gets down on them for adam. and maybe the pain kinda adds something 😏

oh love this! post last chapter of greywaren but before the epilogue! matthew is back but ronan is still very emotional.

Ronan hasn’t left St. Agnes in six hours. It’s quiet, empty. The priest isn’t even there. He had wondered in for confession, he had a long list. He wasn’t sure the priest would even know how to handle these sins. Ecoterrorism, being a God himself, etc. Pray the rosary fourteen times a day for the next three years and maybe Ronan Lynch will be forgiven.

He settles for kneeling, the kneelers in St. Agnes are worn, the cushion worn down from nearly a century of use.

His prayers are more a stream of consciousness. His thoughts. Laying everything at God’s feet. Prays about Matthew, Hennessy, Declan, Adam, Jordan.

He talks to God about Adam and his relationship. He wonders if that’s a sin within itself, he’s dealt with the guilt of being gay, but it’s fun to rip open old wounds every once in a while.

His thoughts, his prayers are more ramblings and when he’s run out of things to say, he gets up. His knees groan in protest. He still appreciates it. It’s nice to know that this human body still knows how to behave like one.

The drive back to the Barns is hell on his legs but he likes it. Makes him feel something.

He walks inside the house. Declan’s car is gone, Matthew is nowhere to be found. Neither are Jordan and Hennessy.

Adams sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open as he types away at assignments he makes up on account of being kidnapped by a literal serial killer. Harvard wasn’t entirely sure the protocol, so they gave Adam an extension for as much time as needed.

He walks over to the table. Stops beside Adam and says, “Hey.”

Adam leans up to face him, Ronan huffs and leans down to kiss Adam on the mouth softly.

It had taken them four days to properly kiss each other again. Adam had pulled away, after their first kiss reunited and said “Ronan Niall Lynch, if you ever do something like that again-”

He had cut himself off before finishing his sentence. Just tucked his face completely into Ronan’s neck and breathed heavily.

“Hi. Where’d you go?” Adam greets as Ronan slides into the chair beside him.

“Church. Where is everyone?”

“On a man-hunt for you.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Declan’s extremely worried.”

Ronan feels the guilt wash over him much like a wave. Adam smirks.

“Oh, you asshole. If anyone was truly worried, you would be out there looking.”

“I knew you were in Lindenmere or at church. I knew you would come back to me, you aren’t allowed out of my sight for more than eight hours.”

Back to me, back to me, back to me.

“That still doesn’t answer the question of where everyone is.”

“Jordan took Declan to an appointment. Hennessy took off to go bother that woman, Carmen? Matthew and Opal are outside exploring the far barns. Sibling and niece and uncle bonding, I guess.”

“So the house is empty?”

They haven’t done anything yet. The furthest they’ve gotten was dry humping in the dark while making out. Feels juvenile, like they’re learning each other all over again.

Adam’s smirk grows. He reaches and undoes the drawstring on Ronan’s sweats.

Ronan lets him, but shifts so that he’s kneeling in front of Adam, fingers pushing at the waistband of Adam’s pants.

His knees are screeching in pain, but a mouthful of Adam is a good distraction. He hasn’t had the mental energy to deal with his hair, so it’s grown out into that awkward fluffy stage. Adam doesn’t seem to mind it. The burn of his knees and Adam’s grip on his hair fuels him to make this his best work yet.

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Reblog and put in the tags a song(s) you like an alternate version of (a demo or remix for example) more than the main version.