missed any 4th of July fun but! moved Kavinsky over HERE if you wanna follow! I’m dropping everything here because it’s been literal months, but I miss y’all!
OKAY I’m gonna start remaking for real now but while I’m here, you can find my blog for my original fiction right HERE!
it’s been a fun year guys but I think I might need to archive & remake this boy
magicsought replied to your post: is anyone still alive in this fandom I miss y’all
Questionable if I’m alive, but I am here. xD
that’s SUCH a big mood savvy
is anyone still alive in this fandom I miss y’all
“I wish I’d known how much you loved me I wish I cared enough to know I’m sorry every song’s about you The torture of small talk with someone you used to love“
Seemed appropriate to post this today.
Questions for the Mun
RULES FOR DREAMERS — k.
tccnagedirtbag replied to your post: remember when i said i was back? i might have lied...
i finished leah on the offbeat and made a new muse. oh and moved.
oh shit nice! congrats on moving!! i still need to get that book but it’s soooo on my list
freedomsacrificed replied to your post: remember when i said i was back? i might have lied...
I bought a lot of books. I’m dying from happiness and a long reading list.
ooh i’d love some reccs! i have so much spare time now
remember when i said i was back? i might have lied slightly
but now the semester is ACTUALLY over i missed you all dearly tell me how you’ve been
Ronan didn’t know what had come over him. Maybe it was the alcohol or the music or the fact that Gansey wasn’t there to be his conscience…. but there was Kavinsky, and there was his lap just waiting to be sat upon. So he did.
He registered the shock in his gaze and felt smug at the fact that he unnerved one Joseph Kavinsky. But then he was moving, adjusting, and holding Ronan’s hips, and belt loops, and it was almost like he was challenging him to try and leave. But Ronan didn’t want to leave, and maybe that should’ve scared him.
But it didn’t.
Ronan tilted his head at Kavinsky’s question and his mouth curled into a sly smile. “Didn’t know you were the wine ‘em and dine ‘em type, Kavinsky.”
the night was full of possibilities, and he was fully intending on taking his chances where he could get them. one finger stayed hooked in ronan’s jeans, the gesture more of a command than anything else. the other hand edged upwards, warm fingers brushing up underneath the fabric of ronan’s shirt. it was a question and a challenge all at once, but k was fairly certain he already knew the answer.
he shifted position on the seat again, this time more to bother ronan than to get comfortable. he wouldn’t let him forget their proximity. he wouldn’t let him live this down. he returned ronan’s smile with a sly grin of his own, and he used his hold on him to sit more upright, pulling him closer as he let acidic humor drip into his tone.
“only for you, sweetheart.”
you still doing that url meme? :3c
send me your url || accepting
My Opinion on;
Character in general: i will love ronan until the day i DIE he is such a good good boy and he deserves so much. my feelings on him sort of developed through the series from like ??? ‘oh another boring bad boy’ to ‘he is so SOFT’ & honestly i’m so glad he’s getting his own seriesHow they play them: mmMMM YEAH i love !! your ronan !! he is so good. you really do his dialogue & mannerisms well, which can be so difficult to capture accurately w/ him. The Mun: honestly you’re fun to talk to !! & we share a lot of interests / ideas which is always super fun. i’m so glad you came back to the rp scene
Do I:
RP with them: haven’t in a while but yes!Want to RP with them: YEAH always these boys will kill me
What is my;
Overall Opinion: one of the best ronan’s i know -- you should really all be following & appreciating
despxcable dreamed you
♞⊱⊱▬ If he universe were kinder and more just, Zephaell felt he would have a fearsome stature to go with the off-putting appearance he’d been given. Skin so red, so hot to the touch, it was if he’d been fashioned from lava. A spaded tip on a tail nearly as long as he was tall. Which, wasn’t very tall, but the disproportionate length of the tail was annoying at best – and at its worst, it hindered balance rather than helping. – His ears were webbed, a pointless addition given how few times he actually braved the lake. He’d have cursed his creator, except it’s impossible to know the creator by sight, but when he’s in the forest, Zephaell can f.e.e.l. it. And the demonic creation goes there. It’s an instinctual tugging. It says go-go-go to him, thrums like a low chord vibrating in his bones, curling in his tail, frozen under his claws. The small demon does. Sometimes he follows the dreamer, sometimes he just misses him. He’s so fast sometimes – in and out like the flicker of a mirage or the ghost of a thief. Zephaell is actually amazed to finally catch him. To wrap a small hand around the arm and stare up at him. The colors of Zephael’s eyes are simply the inverse of Kavinsky, and he wonders why the dreamer would create him to look so obviously inhuman. But before he can speak, they’re not in the forest anymore. But his hand is still on the dreamer and it’s enough to leave the demon feeling less afraid of his new surrounds. He doesn’t try to hurt the dreamer, not intentionally anyway; even if the small hands have fine, razor-sharp claws attached to each slender digit, all of them unconsciously digging into the flesh of Kavinsky’s arm. But he doesn’t scream, or bit, or try to attack. Instead, he pouts sullenly, eyes focused on the dreamer as he awakens.
what he really likes about the dreamspace is the control. here he is untouchable, here he is god. even though he never stays long, even though it’s difficult to predict the nature of a dream. it’s solitude broken only by the uncomfortable whispers of trees, or by the appearance of certain nightmares. that he can handle. that’s entirely under his control. but as of lately there’s been a different break to the fabric of this little reality -- a presence. it doesn’t quite make him anxious, but it’s the closest anything has gotten in a long while.
in. out. there’s hardly time for anything else most nights. the things in the trees stay hidden there, though he can feel the pulse of darkness in the roots below his feet. he pursues his goal, head whipping around to trace rustling in the trees -- it’s so easy to lie about his nightmares, but it’s far harder to keep them contained here.
the dreamspace is aware of him on this night. it’s vivid, alive. fallen leaves cling to his feet, holding him back from what he’s really here for. and then there’s the familiar rustling again, the flash of color from the corner of his eye. he’s not sure what the small humanoid is, but it’s barreling straight towards him, and he isn’t going to wait for it to arrive. he’s only just begun the sharp process of waking up when it manages to grab him, and he simply isn’t fast enough to shake it off before his eyes snap open in the front seat of his car.
he wrenches his arm away from the small devil-looking creation, ignoring the biting pain and welling blood from its claws. there’s more annoyance in his expression than distress -- dreaming up sentient creations is always so inconvenient.
“what the fuck are you supposed to be?”
r i p sorry i’ve been mia ?? this whole week ?? spring break arrived & i decided to spend all of it w/ my bf because young love and all that BUT i’m here & i’m queer & i promise some semblance of activity this week
[ ✠ ] it’s three in the morning and my muse unexpectedly arrives at your muse’s home.
send a symbol for a starter || accepting
[ ✠ ] it’s three in the morning and my muse unexpectedly arrives at your muse’s home.
he hates monmouth. he hates it with a deep and reserved passion, but it’s absolutely justified in his opinion. it’s ugly -- a monument to dick gansey’s obsession with old, broken things. k almost couldn’t fault him that. everyone had their thing. but gansey had been trying to lump ronan in with his old, broken things, even though any appraising eye can see that the cracks in ronan are fresh. and that, that is where k does business. he isn’t one for cleaning people up when they break, but he can appreciate their shards. so here he is. monmouth. feet up on his dash, appraising his options.
he needs to break something.
it’s with exaggerated laziness that he taps the call button below ronan’s name, raises the phone to his ear. the dial tone is a test, and there are no right answers here.