#enjoyyyyyyy

when the heat is at a slightly different temperature than expected

(in how they’re the same and how they’re different)

ronan lynch/adam parrish | the raven cycle | kinktober 2025

Ronan didn't give a fuck what he was contemplating. He grabbed Adam's shirt and crashed their lips together, unable to wait a single second more. He sighed into Adam's mouth, that oft-craved feeling of relief he felt when they kissed flowing through him. It felt like a high, even still. He needed it more than he'd ever needed anything. Adam's hands returned to the back of his head. The pressure he applied was almost bruising as they kissed, something Adam had figured out early that Ronan liked way too much for his own good. Ronan couldn't stop thinking about those hands all over him, around his neck, in his mouth… He groaned, slipped his hands under the hem of Adam's shirt. "Ronan, we're outside," Adam admonished, but he did nothing to stop them. In fact, he stepped even closer to Ronan, easily pushing his legs apart in a way that made him dizzy.

6,282 words.

De retour des Carpates, par @gerceval et moi-même

          ━━━ ANDERS STARES INTO THE GAPING, EMPTY ABYSS THAT IS HIS CHEST. He has stripped it of all personal belongings that do not contribute to the clinic ━━ the neat baubles he had been gifted over the years by friends and thankful patients have been given to Lirene, for proper redistribution to those who would keep them longer. Most of his clothes had been given to those needier than him ; the many dirty faces in Darktown that wore scraps of cloth.

          The letters had been the hardest part.

          Stood over a fire late the night before, Anders reread every word Karl had written to him in his flourishing penmanship. It had been risky to keep all the letters. A single one of them could implicate both of them ... but he was sentimental, and at the end of everything, if what undid him was the only love he had ever known, then so be it.

          He had traced over every letter with a feathery fingertip ━━ the words long committed to memory. Every confession, every proclamation, every mawkish line of poetry ...

          Every promise he had broken.

          The last of his heart shattered as he held the folded letters up to the flame and watched the final bits of his personhood crumble into ash.

          All that remained now was his mother's pillow.

          It was a stained and dirty thing, despite the care he had held for it over the years. Square and yellow with use, the edges frayed where he resewed its hem time and again. Yet the embroidery remained intact. His mother was ━━ is ? ━━ talented.

          However long he spends staring down at the all but empty chest is how long it takes him to figure out what he should do with his final earthly possession. Decided, Anders stuffs it in his pack and slips out through one of the many Darktown tunnel exits towards the Lowtown Alienage.

          He has spent the last six years pushing people away. Isabela lost her patience for his erratic emotions after one too many capricious displays. Hawke was successfully persuaded to keep her distance from the abomination. He watched the group of people who followed her call each other friend, ally, comrade and pulled himself taut at the edges of their circle.

          He is a healer and, services rendered, there is no further need of him.

          Except for the infuriating blood mage who looked at him with pity ━━ as though he was the one who didn't understand. As though he was the one who flirted with demons for favors. She chipped at his walls and like the man he was beneath the raging vengeance, he engaged her. They bickered and fought over the same argument, again and again, coming away no less closer to a middle ground than when they started.

          And, Maker help him, he had caught himself starting to care.

          But of course he cared ! He was nothing if not living proof of how even well intentioned Spirit communication could go wrong.

          He had committed himself to an atrocity. Much blood was going to coat his hands very soon. The most he could do was attempt, again, to guide Merrill to the light.

          So, he knocks on her door in the dead of night, pack held tight against his chest like a saving grace.

Mako quietly crept into the apartment. It was five o’clock in the morning. He held his breath, hoping his brother wouldn't hear him go inside. All he had to do was skip that one squeaky plank and everything would be completely okay-

”SQUEAK” Mako inaudibly cursed soundlessly, before looking around in panic. So much for being discreet, he thought. Fast, he hid his bag under the sofa and changed the green scarf to his red one.. 

“Mako, what are you doing?” Bolin murmured, with bags under his eyes and hair everywhere. The sixteen year old boy went down the ladder slowly to stand beside Mako. The boy didn't quite reach his older brother`s height, he barely reached his shoulder. Sometimes the older brother blamed himself, sometimes he could not help but think that the cause of his little brother´s lack of growth was due to the fact of malnourishment from when they lived on the street. 

“Uhh, nothing special. I just went on a walk.” Bolin looked at Mako suspiciously, then looked out of the window, then back at Mako. “Seriously? In this weather. Do you think I´m stupid or something?” He looked tired as he said that. “Yeah, it's refreshing to walk in this weather. You should try it some time, Bolin.” Mako said that in a stern voice, hoping that Bolin wouldn't ask anymore questions about his absence.

“Whatever, I´ll just go back to sleep.” Bolin inaudibly whispered, he kept his head low while walking back to the ladder. “Wait, Bolin. Remember, you have the hall from 8am to 11am today.” Bolin just nodded and went up the ladder. The second he was out of eye-sight, Mako released a sigh of relief. Mako hated lying to his brother like that, he kept on telling himself that it was best that way. Bolin knowing anything about his other jobs would break him, especially after what happened with the Triple Threat Triad, especially with his attachment to bending. Mako did the hard work and Bolin would know nothing about it.