#emphasis on it being a study dont look too closely at some of the anatomy

[selenophiliiaaa]

year three of art school means everything is self directed aka one of my classes is entirely dedicated to my deities !!! so i did a study of Dionysus Lysius as He was depicted in Corinth <3

[astudyinfreewill]

Pynch Week 2017 -  Day 3: “What are you doing here?”

Adam was almost done piecing together his ambitious, abundant course notes, turning his jagged handwriting to tidy script on his computer – and what a thing to think, that he owned a computer; one of the first things he’d bought with his scholarship money, right after a phone – when the doorbell rang. He looked at the clock on the screen. It was ten to 1am.

Probably Josh having an impromptu party, or inviting a girl over. Or Melissa deciding to share some netflix and weed with someone. The doorbell rang again. Adam sighed.

He weighed his chances and yelled across the wall. “Josh! Someone’s at the door!”

No reply came.

Reaching for his phone, he quickly shot Melissa a text, which was usually what they did rather than get up and physically talk to each other– two introverts more than happy to stay in their respective bubbles.

why is josh not answering the damn doorbell

josh isn’t home dude

Oh. Now that she mentioned it, Adam seemed to remember Josh saying there was a party happening somewhere on campus, and inviting Adam to go along. He had refused, because, well. Biology notes.

The doorbell rang again.

is this one of your friends?

dont u think if it was one of my friends i wld kno

Adam sighed. 

i’m revising for finals can you answer it

hell no what if its a murderer

melissa. it’s not a murderer.

ok but im like stoned af.what if its the RA????

Adam rolled his eyes.

Gently depositing his computer on the bed, he stalked off in the direction of the ever-more-insistent doorbell, annoyance plastering a withering glare on his face. If this was another drunk frat boy who had forgotten where he lived–

He threw the door open just as the bell rang yet another time, fully prepared to snarl the most vicious Can I fucking help you a stressed student had ever mustered, before the words died on his lips. 

On the other side of the door, dark and tall and impossible, was Ronan Lynch.

Adam blinked once, just to be sure he wasn’t having midterms-induced hallucinations, but no – Ronan was really there, intricate tattoo peeking out from his tank top, Chainsaw perched on his shoulder, and a pile of food containers stacked in his hands.

It didn’t occur to Adam that he was gaping until he saw an unmistakeable shit-eating grin painting itself on Ronan’s face.

“Mind letting me in, Parrish? It’s honestly so fucking rude of you to keep me outside.”

“How did you even get into the building?” sputtered Adam. It was not the right response, hell, it wasn’t even the question he most wanted to ask, but his brain had the tendency to latch itself onto the closest logical problem when it was stuttering. He moved out of the doorway to let Ronan in, hoping it would count as amends.

Ronan shrugged, one eyebrow rising suggestively. “Hooligans these days. They can get into anything.” He walked in, somehow managing to look indolent while carrying more takeout than one man could possibly consume and a large prey bird. His duffel bag came into view on the ground behind him, and Adam automatically picked it up, closing the door.

“Ronan, what are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“Well hello to you too, sweetheart.”

The last was said in an overly high-pitched, exaggerated Southern accent, and Adam rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. “Don’t be like that. You know I’m happy to see you. And also that supernatural catastrophes are not exactly uncommon in our lives.”

Ronan looked uncomfortable for a brief second, dropping his façade of bravado for the first time since he’d shown up. He awkwardly raised the food containers.

“Chinese food.”

Adam blinked, because he had a feeling about where this was going but surely it couldn’t be right.

“Specifically, the shitty Chinese food from the place behind St. Agnes.”

He was right.

“Ronan. 

“You’re welcome, dickbag. 

“Ronan.”

“What.” 

“It’s a seven hour drive--”

“Five hours if you know how to drive,” Ronan cut him off, his smile sharp and wicked. 

Part of Adam had a minor freak-out at the idea of Ronan barrelling towards New York at night with complete disregard for any speed limits, but he couldn’t worry about Ronan’s reckless driving right now, not when he was already trying to process all the rest of the Ronan’s ridiculousness.

“-it’s a five hour drive up here from Henrietta–”

“Yeah, so I better not hear you complain about the food being cold, you little shit.”

“--oh my God can you shut the fuck up for one second–”

“You have a microwave in this Ivy League sponsored dump, right?”

“Ronan.”

The emphasis eventually got him to shut up and look at Adam, and now Adam could see it, the vulnerability underneath the bluster, Ronan’s mind already working hard to convince him that it had been a stupid mistake, that he was being ridiculous right now, that the whole situation was embarrassing. Adam didn’t know when he’d started being able to read Ronan so well, but his heart ached with it.

“You sounded tired, and shit.” Ronan offered, looking at his leather bracelets. “On the phone, earlier. And you said you missed the shitty Chinese food from back home, so I went and got you some. It’s not a big fucking deal, okay?” His voice would have sounded hostile to anyone who didn’t know better. Adam knew better.

Which meant he should have known better than to be surprised at all, but it was so hard to wrap his brain around, that this boy – this impossible boy – this man-shaped god, who had it in his power to create flowers and animals and brothers and entire landscapes – had heard Adam talk nostalgically about Henrietta’s shitty Chinese food five hours earlier during an offhand conversation, and here he was, five hours later, standing in Adam’s tiny shared kitchen with unholy amounts of cold take-out, looking thunderous and gorgeous and every inch the logic-defying miracle that he was. 

All because Adam sounded tired, and shit.

“Jesus,” Adam breathed.

“There’s no need to bring him into this, Parrish.”

“You’re insane.”

“Well, you’re not exactly the poster boy for sanity–”

“I love you,” Adam stated, cutting off the indignant bluster.

Ronan flushed an adorable shade of magenta. Adam knew better than to make fun of him for it, though he sometimes did anyway.

“Come on,” he said, taking Ronan by the hand. “Let’s go eat a shitton of cold, bad Chinese food.” He paused significantly, locking eyes with Ronan. “And chill.”  

Ronan’s eyes grew darker, pupils blown out, because at some point along the ridiculous and perfect ride that was their relationship, making fun of memes they both found overused had turned into foreplay.

“Wait,” he said, very reluctantly. “I thought you were supposed to study for a biology final.”

“Did I say biology?” Adam hummed, pursing his lips in mock thoughtfulness. “My bad. I meant anatomy, obviously.”

A moment later, Ronan was wrapped around him, melting against his mouth, and suddenly, just like that – Adam was home.