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#gansey telling ronan that it dawned on him and blue the other day that being s teenager fucking sucked

lots-of-fandoms-ps-help-me · 4 months

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finished greywaren.

#adam and ronan are engaged #silently #without a word #ronan handing him a ring and him putting it on while they both just look at the stars #ripping myself apart #jordan and declan are married #i hope he bought her a social security card as a ring #jordan walking into the farmhouse just to say “pozzi” and declan smiling with all his teeth #gansey and blue are still travelers but now they have degrees that they are so so psyched about #gansey telling ronan that it dawned on him and blue the other day that being s teenager fucking sucked #one day i will get out of this hellhole #and ronan trusted Hennessy to keep Adam's conscienceness together so he could save the world with his fire #and the lynch Brothers are friends again #and adam got a .gov job that no one really knows what it is that he does #but it keeos him traveling #and ronan and Hennessy travel to help dreams and dreamers #adam nor ronan mantain a permanent residence #but they meet consistently during their travels to fall into each other's arms once again #and there will always be the barns waiting for them at the end #for all of them #the ghost show(me)#ronan lynch #adam parrish #blue sargent #richard gansey iii #jordan hennessy #declan lynch #matthew lynch #greywaren #the dreamer trilogy

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spiltscribbles · 5 years

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Notes: One Reblog is worth a thousand stars <3.-

The grandiose brownstone on the upper west side is filled to the brim with guests that Ronan barely recognizes, platters of foods he doesn’t remember ordering, and rounds of drinks he thanks God, Jesus and the Holy Ghost above that never seem to run out.

“Lynch, old boy,” a faintly familiar, boyishly attractive brunette calls from where he’s standing with three other nondescript fucks that Ronan eventually realizes are all from his old preparatory days at Aglionby.

“Wentworth,” Ronan greets with as much welcome as he can muster— a negative four point two on the Gansey scale of charm, but hey, what’s a guy to do. “I presume you’re enjoying yourself?”

“Thoroughly,” he assures with a coquettish little wink that Ronan completely ignores.

“Let me know if that ever changes,” he directs the question to the group as a whole so that Wentworth doesn’t get any bright ideas.

“How’s Declan?” The shortest one asks, all plastered smiles and heaps of blonde hair.

“He’s enjoying DC, says that Matthew is getting on with all his courses.”

“Smart of him to get out of Henrietta,” another of the foursome interjects with a swig of his iced white. “With Greywaren here and all the trouble he’s stirring up.”

“Come now,” Wentworth chides with a dismissing wave of the hand. “Greywaren is who’s keeping us safe from the trouble and all these awful villains. “Wouldn’t you agree Lynch?”

Ronan feels the slightest uptick to his pulse, but doesn’t let anything show, just gives a placid smile and blasé shrug to his shoulder.

“I make it a point not to mingle with politics.”

“Smart chap,” the third one smirks. “Couldn’t tell you how many times the boys on the board told me to keep my trap shut on it.”

Queue round of polite chuckles that Ronan doesn’t partake in.

“You know what isn’t controversial? A donation to the arts.” Ronan tells him.

“A wily one too,” Wentworth laughs. “Well you’ve convinced us Lynch, we’d be happy to help whatever inner city project or museum renovation you’ve got going on.”

“I’ll send Blue over to take the checks,” he tips his glass to them before continuing on strolling through the throng of blank faces, exchanging pleasantries and volleying nods of recognition as if it’s an olympic sport.

Ronan hates every fucking minute of it.

“Poor sour patch,” Blue, five foot nothing and unappreciative of any sort of bullshit, mock croons at him once he finally reaches the foursome, clucking her tongue all the while.

Ronan bares his teeth at her, swats away the hand she’s using to pinch his cheek with a hiss of, “Hop off.”

Blue only laughs ebulliently.

“I fucking hate you.”

“No way to speak to your guests,” Henry toots on Blue’s behalf. “After all, you were just elected Henrietta’s most eligible bachelor, wouldn’t wanna ruin that image with your surly attitude.”

“What would you know Cheng? I sure as fuck don’t remember your name on the list.”

With a role of the eyes, Henry just shoos him away. “Never any bite, I swear.”

“He strolls off to take a call on his pretentious bluetooth, while Noah passes Ronan a fresh flute of the Prosecco.

“You don’t have to keep up the charade you know,” Gansey tells him, popping an appetizer with to many vowels and too little alcohol for Ronan to ever really bother remembering the name of into his mouth. “It’s not as if, ahem. People would ever be made privy to your particular gifts.”

He means the gifts Ronan had inherited from Niall, the ability to dream things and even people and occasionally places into existence. He means the fact that despite the way Ronan dawns a costume with a raven on the chest, he’s in all actuality a dreamer. He dreams his weapons, his vehicles, his everything to use against the bad guys and vigilantes that roam the streets of Henrietta, their city, their home. And some of the things he dreams Declan takes it upon himself to study, to replicate, to cell for the endless fortunes the Lynch name has always been known for. The millions upon millions that Ronan grew up unaware to how his father, a scoundrel and drunk most days, and absent the rest of them, had ever been able to earn.

No, but Ronan still loves him, adores the memory and the man. Niall gave everything to Ronan and he’s going to respect everything Niall planned out, everything he wrote in his will.

“It’s what my father would’ve wanted, complete secrecy,” says Ronan, doubtless.

“Even with the solitude,” asks Gansey, cutting to the heart of his worries with none of his usual attentiveness. Finally tired of beating around the bush like the Gansey way dictates.

Ronan’s about to snarl something back that he’s not proud of, something nasty and vicious and unnecessarily cruel. Maybe about Gansey’s pretentious upbringing, probably something about his tireless efforts to find out what’s caused this explosion of superheroes and super villains in the last half century, definitely also about his piece of shit haircut that makes him look like a douchebag congressman. But Blue must sense it because she interrupts him before Ronan could even part his lips.

“All we’re saying is that we know you’ve got your priorities, but you deserve someone to come home too.”

“It’s so cute that you care,” Ronan snorts, doesn’t mention how this place isn’t home, that it can never stack up to The Barns.

Ronan doesn’t want to build a life here.

“I only care because every group needs the weirdly brooding, emo friend,” Blue says causticly.

Ronan cuffs her on the back of the head and she kicks him in turn.

“Hey tall, dark, and handsome,” Henry calls, abruptly returning with a slight franticness to his gaze. “No time for the juvenile squabbling, there’s a robbery on Appleton and they’re in dyer need of a certain masked hero.”

.-

Ronan remembers the sun kissed skies and tumbling grasslands that painted the landscape of The Barns, his childhood manner, his oasis away from the bustling folks and raucous traffic of the city that the Lynch’s spent a majority of their year trapped within. He remembers the iridescent rosebuds that scattered the front yard and the strawberry fields he’d run through, frolicking with a giggling Matthew and occasionally a surly Declan if Ronan had nudged him outdoors by stealing one of his books or hats or whatever proper, grown up thing he was insistent on mastering for that week.

Most of all, he remembers the way Niall would card an indulgent hand through Ronan’s dark mop of locks while they tread around the trails as he divulged to his middle son all the magical wonders and whimsical secrets of this world, a doting smile on his face while regaling to Ronan stories about brave Irish warriors and lands unexplored, and things unimagined. A dreamer father showing his dreamer child— his favorite child— all the possibilities in his grasp.

“There’s nothing outside your reach Ronan my boy,” Niall, dark haired and sharp jawed and everything Ronan idealized, had boomed in his deep baritone. “You could do anything as long as you can imagine it, dream it. Omnium rum principia parva sunt.”

“The beginnings of all things are small,” Ronan, pint sized and open faced and infallibly kind hearted, had beamed up to his father, pleased that the Latin courses Niall had insisted upon were sticking.

“Oy, attaboy,” Niall had crowed, swinging on his shoulder a laughing Ronan, a Ronan who believed in the untarnished truth of his father’s words.

But then Ronan hit sixteen, and Niall was murdered and the Barns were sanctioned from anyone visiting and everything had fallen apart in a matter of days.

.-

The BMW hums beneath his grasp as Ronan sores through the streets of Henrietta, blanketed in darkness and buzzing with danger.

“It’s at the Sheffield’s lake house,” Gansey patches in through the minuscule communication device Henry had created for them to use. “They’re big supporters of mothers campaign.”

“Oh how darling,” Ronan says in a deadpan. “We should invite them over for high tea, less we look gauche.”

“I’ll ignore the sarcasm due to this being a stressful situation and all,” Gansey harrumphs from the other end. “Noah will be there taking pictures for the paper and Henry’s sending over the address right now. Stay safe.”

“always am.”

“Now we both know that isn’t true.”

.-

Ronan screeches to a stop in front of one of the more posh houses the city has to offer— all high gates and wide partitions and a fountain of a baby angel spitting out water while balancing on one foot— greeted by a middle aged woman in pink chiffon raving to a fearful looking officer about hooligans and dirty thugs and irreplaceable diamonds handed down to her through generations. Though Ronan doesn’t bother to stop and listen to her sulking once he catches the barest trace of a yellow cape slinking into the shadows out of sight.

He pounces.

“Fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds,” the dude in a yellow cape tsks (all the while sporting the world’s most infuriating half grin that Ronan can’t help but appreciate if only for the esthetic) once Ronan finally catches up to him on the edge of the woods skirting against the water. He’s smaller than Ronan, but not by much, and agile as all get out if those amateur parkour stunts weren’t just an illusion. “getting rusty are we? It’s been a while since Henrietta’s seen anything more than a chump vigilante I suppose?”

His voice is low but has got this almost musical cadence to it. Ronan would’ve sworn he was a local if the subtle drawl was anything to go by.

“And who, pray tell, the fuck are you,” Ronan snarls out, stepping closer with his most menacing glower.

The guy in yellow and red just snorts, unimpressed, while he leaps backwards onto a tree branch… But no, it’s like the tree branch was waiting for him. No not even that, like it reached out for him to hop on, like he was the sun and the tree was responding to his very presence.

“Unimportant, but I know who you are Greywaren.”

“NO fuck, everyone knows me,” Ronan spits.

“Not the real you,” he counters. “But that’s why I’m here.”

Ronan is over the small talk, even if the guy’s got an admittedly attractive voice, he taps on the heels of the shoes he had dreamt and begins to shoot upwards, but the messed up thing is that the guy seems to have been expecting it, and with just a flick of the wrist another branch swings out and smacks Ronan down like a pesky fly.

“What. The. Fuck.” Ronan manages out with labored breaths as he stands back up.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a real let down Mr Greywaren, because you sure are,” Yellow Cape says with a faux yawn, stretching out to his full six feet while still standing on the branch. He looks like the fucking Fairy Folk in the storybooks Matthew had once insisted Ronan read to him before bed. “Well I’d love to stay and chat but I better get out of your hair and get some bank for my buck.”

“I’ll show you where to shove your buck.”

“Scandalous,” yellow cape sniffs, bored sounding. “ oh and before I forget, Greenmantle sends their hellos.”

In an instance everything freezes.

That word.

Greenmantle.

Flashes of blood and darkness and Niall’s too pale face accented by a wretched slash to his forehead.

The name carved in blood.

Greenmantle.

Ronan’s veins turn to ice and his chest contracts, and by the time he comes to yellow cape is already gone and Ronan is awash with the sorts of memories he ordinarily keeps securely locked away.

.-

“Greenmantle, are you sure he said that precise name?” Henry asks for the umpteenth time since Ronan came back empty handed and with a major life revelation the night of the Sheffield robbery.

“Yes Cheng,” Ronan seethes, tugs on the tie that feels like it’s choking him.

“You look insane,” Blue toots, goes on her tiptoes to adjust it once more. “Now let’s just take deep breaths, being in public and all.”

Ronan still isn’t sure just how Gansey had convinced them all to attend the Tribune’s annual fundraiser, only remembering a lot of “getting on the insides” and “copious amounts of alcohol,s” thrown around, and a couple, “you get to tease uppity know it alls who trash the Greywaren for a living,” sprinkled on top just for good measure.

But still, Ronan hates it.

“So he’s back then, finishing off what he started.” Noah surmises.

“Did we ever truly know what exactly he wanted? Erm, aside from the Lynch family’s demise.”

Ronan glares and Henry just winces, apologetic.

“Noah you think you can get anymore intel on Greenmantle possibly leaving Boston? That was last where we tracked him, right?” Blue asks, head cocked.

“I’m on it,” Noah says while literally pulling out his phone and wandering off to a discrete corner to do whatever it is that he does that gets invasively detailed reports on literally anyone with a social security number.

“Let’s cut the conversation there, Gansey’s coming with that delicious looking friend of his,” Henry warns, causing Blue and Ronan to turn around at the same time to catch on a beaming Gansey promenading towards them with decidedly less sunny company. Company with sea glass eyes and effortlessly ruffled hair that falls unevenly on the left side of his forehead and cheekbones that can literally cut timber.

“Ronan, you’re gonna catch flies,” blue goads, shit eating grin on her face and something like amusement etched into Gansey’s own all the way across the aisle, as if he knows exactly what she had said. Leave it to those freaks to create the world’s first telepathic connection out of the power of their gross as love.

“You’re fired from both my friendship and your job,” Is all Ronan tells her, tries to look distracted by anyone that isn’t the literal incarnation of Prince Philip walking ever nearer… Erm shut the fuck up, Ronan only knows that certain prince because of Matthew when he went through his Disney phase… And well, Arora really liked those sorts of cartoons when she was bringing up her boys.

Gansey dives down to kiss Blue just as soon as they came close enough, and Henry bugged off to go flirt up some poor soul on the catering staff, which leaves it so he and Adam have got some semblance of privacy… Which Ronan doesn’t care about at all.

“Lynch,” Adam says, mouth curled ever so slightly, giving him a thin lipped smile. “How’s it going.”

“My life is a fucking summer day,” Ronan replies with probably too much glaring.

“So that nasty looking bruise on your jaw?”

“For the esthetic.”

“Think you missed bad ass and landed on kid who gets too many nose bleeds during gym class.”

“Know that look from experience Parrish?”

He shrugs, unaffected.

“I was always captain, so can’t say so.”

“Cocky little fuck,” Ronan hisses, making it so Adam’s face finally brightens ten fold and he lets out a breathy— blink and you’ll miss it— laugh. He’s got these insane dimples that never fail to make Ronan’s stomach tie itself into knots, and makes it so his heart stutter with pleasure and always, always fuels him to try and make them pop out just one more time…. But erm, that means nothing. Whatever Blue or Gansey, or Noah— Especially Henry— Whatever they say whatever stupid little ticks his body goes through, it means nothing towards what he feels for Adam. Which for the record, at best, is irritated exasperation veiled with a thin layer of indifferent acquaintanceship, considering Gansey has regarded the bloke as a brother since their first night as roommates back in college.

“You wanna grab a drink or will it hurt too much with the injury and all?”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll make it so your shitting teeth for the next month.”

“Kinky.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Ronan’s doomed.

.-

“So far the pattern seems to be wealthy, careless and dumb,” Blue says from where she’s hanging upside-down on the couch in Ronan’s den that’s been commandeered for any Greywaren business.

“You just read that off of Parrish’s article in the Tribune this week,” Henry toots, flipping through the aforementioned news report about who’s been labeled as The Magician.

“He’s a smart cookie,” Blue relents, having always been partial to Parrish since first meeting him years ago at one of the ridiculous “family dinners,” Gansey holds every Friday evening, instead of doing something more par for the course for adults their age, namely getting blackout drunk and dancing at sleazy clubs. (

Gansey had just stepped into Monmouth , blasé as all get out with Adam only a few feet behind him, and had gestured his way with the introduction. “This’s Adam, he’s a genius reporter and a great man. Even’s got a photo of him and Lois Lane pinned to his desk at the Tribune.”

Adam in turn smiled self deprecatingly, his cheeks flushed prettily. “She spoke at a rally our freshman year, just got lucky I suppose.”

“Oh my God! I love her!” Blue had squawked, eyes bright. “She’s right between Wonder Woman and Angela Davis on my wall of inspirational women.”

“Some wall,” Adam said wryly.

“I thought that was a wall of ladies you wouldn’t mind pegging,” Ronan had interrupted just to be a shit.

“Lynch, I’m not afraid to kill in cold blood.”

If that interaction hadn’t scared Adam off, Ronan supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that nothing had, that now he’s as internal to this little ragtag crew of Henriettas saving graces as any of them, even if he doesn’t have the slightest clue of their night gigs.

“We could ask him about the Magician,” Gansey offers, lips pursed and hopeful glint to his big, caff like eyes. Ronan knows that he— that all of them— hate lying to Adam, to evade his questions and avoid his calls whenever things are particularly insane, but it’s better this way. If it was up to Ronan none of them would be stuck in this dangerous business. Gansey is here because he had been brought up with Ronan, quite literally brothers in everything but blood. He knew what Niall was, what Ronan is. He knows the importance of the Barns and the danger of Greenmantle, Ronan couldn’t have lied to him about this if he tried. Noah was already privy to the forces of good and evil warring it out in this seemingly inconsequential city right out of DC, had been the one to approach Ronan as Greywaren first, to cultivate a bond that soon transformed into a partnership and now friendship. Henry’s family worked to provide the pieces for the technology that the original dreamer wanted replicated, for Niall, and it only made sense that when Niall had ever so unceremoniously past the mantel off to Ronan, that Seondeok did the same for Henry.

To this day Ronan isn’t quite sure how Blue squirmed her way into everything, only that she’s the daughter of a well renowned psychic that they consulted with once on a case, and she had right then, chin tipped high and a deeply embedded resilience in her gaze, had informed them all that she’d be joining their efforts. A few years later, falling in love with Gansey and officially hired to lead all knew projects for Lynch Charity, in between, Ronan can’t imagine doing all this without her scrappy self.

But that’s all besides the point. Ronan never wants to be the cause of them hurting, them in danger. He’s seen what could happen to someone if they take one wrong move, saw it splayed out with Niall’s blood and matted hair and sickly pillar that still haunts Ronan’s nightmares most nights.

Ronan’s gonna prevent that from ever happening again to anyone he loves, even if that means he has to prevent any of the aforementioned teammates from joining his chases, or if it means he has to lie to Adam’s face. To pretend as if he doesn’t see the way Adam’s begun barricading himself from them bit by bit, well aware that there’s something dividing them all from him.

Ronan would rather see Adam furious at him, than never getting to see the particular shade of forget me not blue that colors his irises, ever again.

The choice is simple.

“No.” He tells Gansey, not leaving an ounce of room for rebuttal.

“He’s a Pulitzer Prize nominated Journalist Ronan, in layman’s terms that means he’s great at figuring things out,” Gansey says with the worn patience of someone who’s hashed out this argument a thousand times before. “It’s improbable that he hasn’t already begun suspecting the truth already.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I’m sure he could handle himself.”

“No,” Ronan repeats, voice resounding.

“Okay, no time,” Noah cuts in shortly, fingers tapping an agitated staccato against the keyboard of his desktop. “There’s a robbery on Madison Avenue and people are saying it’s our little, yellow caped friend.”

“Stay safe,” Gansey says— like he always does— and Ronan says that he will, like he always does— and the tension between them breaks, for now at the very least, like it always does.

.-

Ronan’s day job, as Declan had once oh so kindly put it, is to stay pretty and give a good face to the brand. “You’re a shit and I know that, but maybe if no one has to talk to you and just sees that you’ve got the same smile as Dad did, they won’t find out for themselves.” Declan had earned a swift right hook for that one, but was probably expecting it considering the dodge and the lecture on anger management he had suffered Ronan through for the next hour.

All this to say, Ronan doesn’t really have a day job. He occasionally visits The Barns— never crossing the threshold but just looking from afar at all he’s fighting to get back— Other times, if he’s not nursing a hangover or injury from the night before, Ronan would drive out to Dc and pull Matthew from classes to get lunch and maybe catch a movie. Though more often than not, Ronan ends up at one of the numerous Lynch owned real-estates, specifically the one where the entire top floor is rented out by the second largest paper in the fucking tri-state area. The fact that a majority of his friends happen to work there is pure coincidence and it would be slanderous to allude otherwise.

“You enjoy our company,” Noah taunts, camera dangling from his neck and face split with a bright smile.

“Fuck you.”

“You do though,” he beams, impervious.

“Noah I swear to fucking God.”

.-

“Ah, so the prodigal son has returned,” Adam, looking like a fucking professional in his button down and tie, greets one particular Thursday afternoon when Ronan shows up for the first time that week. It’s been a difficult one for him, with the news that Greenmantle is most certainly not in Boston anymore, but also undetectable anywhere else on the continental United States, coupled with the series of robberies from more and more of the city’s wealthiest, surely by no other than that fucking yellow cape— The Magician— It’s just been really fucking exhausting.

Ronan will go to his grave before admitting that just catching sight of Adam here, now… It kind of makes him breathe a little easier, even if there’s a cut right under Adam’s chin and his stance is woven with a certain fatigue one can only recognize with experience.

He suddenly remembers talking to one of Adam’s old school friends, a petite blonde who looked at an oblivious Adam with hearts in her eyes. He members her telling him just how Adam had lost the hearing in his left ear, how it was merely a tipping point from a long building cycle of abuse. Ronan thinks of how gutted he feels looking at how haggard Adam looks right now, and can’t imagine knowing him back when fucking Robert Parrish was still apart of his life.

But he shakes that all off, offers Adam a snide half grin like he’’s probably expecting.

“Missed me sugar dumpling,” Ronan jeers in an overdone accent to mock Adam’s subtle one, vowels rounded and snatching away the g.

“It was quieter,” is all Adam says, and if Ronan doesn’t know better he would’ve taken that as a compliment teetering on flirtatious instead of one of Adam’s deadpan observations.

And oh, that’s interesting.

“I’ve always been known for my stimulating conversational skills,” Ronan nods sagely, leaning against Adam’s desk with his arms wrapped across his chest, enjoying it probably a little too much how Adam’s peering up at him with his bright eyes through his spider leg lashes.

Sometimes, just sometimes— just when Adam looks at him like Ronan could be the brightest part of his day— Ronan feels like he’s standing on the precipice of something with him, something that makes his chest stutter and stomach tumble itself into knots. Like Adam’s air and Ronan’s finally breathing. But also that’s a ridiculous notion because in all the years they’ve known each other Adam’s never made a move, not one that Ronan could discern at least, and he just needs to not fall into some ridiculous folly.

“Oh I’m sure,” he snorts.

“You wanna grab lunch? Leo’s having a half off if you buy two sale.”

“I don’t eat gluten.”

“I saw you scarf down a bowl of pasta at the mayor’s shitty dinner literally last weekend,” Ronan accuses, incredulous and only slightly affronted.

“Fine,” Adam breathes out. “Then I don’t eat gluten that’s meant to distract me from my work.”

“Fuck off.”

“Can’t do that either.”

Ronan seriously thinks he might hate Adam, if it wasn’t for the fact that he most certainly does not.

“You don’t have to like work yourself ragged just to prove a point you know, just because you’re the newest print journalist doesn’t mean you’re the least talented.” Ronan tells him, gruff sounding and avoiding his gaze at all costs. “That’s obviously Tad.”

Adam stays quiet for too long, so Ronan braces himself and turns around, not expecting Adam to be pinning Ronan with a one eyed squint, like he’s sizing him up. Like Ronan’s some sort of jigsaw puzzle he can never quite figure out.

“Kay, let’s go,” he says, slow and cautious as he shuts his laptop and slinks on his jacket. Ronan is only partially surprised that he actually listened, usually it takes a whole lot more cross looks and prodding at and about ten times more profanities for Adam to even consider stop working on some new story or the other that he’s particularly passionate about.

“Good,” Ronan huffs in as flat of a tone he can muster. “But I fucking hate subs so we’re not going to Leo’s.”

Adam sighs, long suffering. “You were born to be contrary Lynch.”

“’S what Declan says, but he doesn’t know shit.”

“As opposed to you? Oh great arbiter of all knowledge.” Adam retorts, making it so Ronan’s mouth dips into a small, reluctant smile.

“Precisely.”

Their eyes connect at that moment, ice blues boring into a twilight night sky sparkling with kisses of starlight. Ronan can hear his heart beat in his ears and his throat lodge with emotions he can’t place quite yet.

It’s Adam who breaks it, averting his gaze and clearing his throat, adjusting his papers on the desk just to make it as seemingly natural as possible.

“Mexican, Mexican’s never bad. And hey I get a chance to hear you fail at rolling your Rs.”

Ronan glowers.

“Piss off.”

So they go, Ronan orders a meat stuffed burrito and Adam orders the special and Ronan doesn’t talk about all the gluten Adam’s eating and they most definitely do not talk about what may or may not have past between them.

It’s fine. It’s normal. He’s good.

Ronan’s got a lot of other shit to be worrying about without this maybe something he’s been harboring for Adam since before they even really knew each other, and it shouldn’t change just because Adam seems to be finally joining him in this strange little dance, stumbling together around this tiny flame that may or may not have sparked to life.

It’s fine. it’s normal. He’s good.

“I’m figuring out who Greywaren is,” Adam answers Ronan’s inquiry on what story’s got him so on edge and everything freezes over.

It’s not fine. It’s not normal. And Ronan is sure as fuck not good.

.-

“He’s swung onto Hamilton Boulevard,” Blue tells Ronan, almost frantic, through the headphone set.

Ronan finally gets the fucking Magician in eye sight, watching as he slips into the maze of downtown apartments.

“Good, no fucking trees,” Ronan hisses while swerving off the road and chasing after him by foot, eventually landing on a rooftop. It’s the sixth encounter they’ve had in as many weeks so Ronan thinks he’s finally starting to ware him down, or at least beginning to figure out his arsenal of techniques. He knows that the moment he lands on that roof The Magician will just leap to the next one and the one after that until he finally loses Ronan in the dust.

But this time the Magician doesn’t know about the little pouch of a Ronan Lynch original that’s clacking around on his belt.

“Isn’t there more important shit you should be chasing after?” The Magician growls out, leaping to the next roof in the row and rolling his landing— smooth fuck.

“Isn’t there better ways you can be earning money besides stealing it?” Ronan counters, right on his tale.

“Like those old farts would miss’m,” The Magician scoffs, thin lips pinched into an infuriatingly attractive pout. “There are kids starving in this city, you know that Greywaren?”

“So what? You some fucking reincarnation of Robin Hood?” Ronan spits out.

“He was a fictional character, so that’d be impossible,” The Magician pivots around so quickly that Ronan is caught off guard, especially when he pulls out a bow and arrow and shoots it with deadly precision, tearing Ronan’s cape right off and sticking it to the wall behind them.

“But the bow is a favorite of mine.”

Ronan clenches his teeth in frustration.

“Look I don’t give a fuck about you getting your jollies from stealing from old, rich fucks. Not really.”

“Then why the hell do you keep pursuing me?” The Magician charges, never flinching from his stance or losing his aim directed right at Ronan’s chest.

“Greenmantle,” he grits out, like broken glass ripping his throat to shreds and piercing his tongue and lips as it escapes in a fury of blood and guts and abandonment. “You said that name when we first met.”

“Yeah, and so what?”

“What do you mean so what!” Ronan bellows, hates how this vigilante fuck is so blasé about the one person that makes it feel like Ronan’s insides are burning up and dying right alongside everything else when Niall had past. With his mother and the Barns and the memories and the ease of just existing to exist instead of searching for some existential meaning behind it all. “How do you even know Greenmantle?”

The Magician just shrugs, for the first time in all the weeks he’s been clashing against Ronan his face betrays his typical impassivity and actually looks cautious, curious— unsure.

“Greenmantle’s the one who asked me to figure out who you are, paid me like a ridiculous sum of money for it.”

“And why do you think Greenmantle wants me so badly!”

“Fuck if I know, some blood feud between the wealthy and powerful. I don’t care, it’s not my business.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan steps closer, but the Magician remains stock-still, weapon poised to be wielded. “I know it was you who stopped that armed robbery last weekend at the bank, and you saved that bus collision with your creepy voodoo one with the trees, powers.”

This time the Magician’s lips curl into acute disapproval, he’s irritated by Ronan calling him out. Ronan thinks that it should be disconcerting that he could get so much from a simple reading of his mouth, but also it’s the only feature he can see on his face, so it isn’t that creepily invested.

“I don’t put people in danger, just steal from the oblivious and wealthy.”

“You’re not a bad guy,” Ronan surmises, has known that for a while now. “Don’t get mixed up in Greenmantle’s shit. They’re bad people, really bad.”

The magician sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, flickers his focus to something right above Ronan’s shoulder, like he was considering his words in a meaningful kind of way.

“How do I know that you’re not just lying to me. That Greenmantle isn’t justified for whatever slight you’ve done to them.”

“There’s a reason why you haven’t really tried figuring me out, you don’t want to help them.” Ronan needles.

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me.”

“It’s true, you feel it. you know they aren’t safe.”

“Tell me why I should trust you,” is all the Magician says, waspish.

Ronan wants to shout, to pull out his hair and just scream. He wants to tell the Magician that he didn’t commit some sort of fucking obscene offense to’m, that Greenmantle just knows what he can do and wants to control it, control him. But Ronan’s suddenly too tired and too frustrated and too so many things that he can’t even fathom parsing out the right words to convince him. Instead, Ronan just picks out one of the seeds in his pouch and throws it into the Magician’s sandy hair, ducking when the first arrow is released.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Why can’t you fucking just listen to me!” Ronan says instead of answering. “Greenmantle is fucking evil.”

“You missed anyways douche,” the Magician snarls out, pulling another arrow from his sheath.

Ronan lets out a little, dark laugh at that, standing up to his full height. “Haven’t you ever heard that the beginnings of all things are small?”

The Magician’s face goes very flat, completely unimpressed.

“Now who’s speaking in shitty voodoo riddles?”

Fuck, Ronan hates how much he enjoys waging words with him.

“It’s not voodoo,” Ronan says in an admittedly cryptic voice.

“What the fuck!” The magician suddenly balks. Ronan reckons it’s because of the ropes knitting themselves around him over frustration about his comment.

“You won’t listen, so I’m turning you in.”

“Screw you!” he yells, face bright with feeling.

“Jail’s better than if you accidentally get on Greenmantle’s bad side,” Ronan informs him magnanimously, dark head tilted in an admittedly Declan way.

“You are such a piece of shit.”

“Could say the same to you sweetheart,” Ronan sniffs, is taken aback at the unexpected prickling to his side.

“What—“

He looks up to find the Magician tearing through the ropes that look like they’ve been completely unwound. He looks a bit closer to find the hundreds of small spikes prickling its circumference.

“Is that—“

“A pine,” Magician scoffs, lets out a new round to pierce into Ronan’s side with a mere snap of his finger.

“How the fuck can you even do that!”

The Magician doesn’t answer, just bolts over to Ronan with a swift kick to the opposite side from the needles, rendering him defenseless, and runs off just as soon as the sirens come within hearing distance. All Ronan could do is watch the night swallow him whole.

.-

Ronan is bothered and disgruntled and pissed off— even more than usual. It’s why he’s sulking in a dark corner, peevish as all get out, while there’s like a hundred guests invading his family home in the city, here to celebrate Declan’s thirtieth and also probably just to make Ronan hate life that bit more.

He can’t believe he let the Magician go that easily, and now that he is actually mad at Ronan who knows what he’ll do now to actually figure him out, bring’m to Greenmantle just so they could finish the job and kill off all the Lynch dreamers.

“Fuck.”

“Language,” a far too familiar voice reproofs with no heat, making Ronan jolt back to watch as Adam strolls towards him.

“You’re here?” Ronan says, floundered as he stares at the way his shoulders move just right in that blazer. God he’s beautiful.

“You should really consider asking Gansey for a job, your observational skills are truly top notch,” Adam says in a decidedly sardonic tone.

“Asshole,” Ronan huffs, excepting the drink Adam offers him.

“You seemed in a funk all week, thought you’d need the moral support for a party literally meant to celebrate your brother.”

Ronan looks away, tries not to look so gleeful that Adam came here specifically— solely— to cheer up Ronan.

“You thought I’d want your company over any of these pricks,” Ronan says just to keep up pretenses— Admittedly a bit to afraid of the outcome if he starts to let them slide and just begins to babble out loud all the stupid thoughts clamoring in his mouth and chest and mind whenever around Adam. The way his chest blooms with something splendid and the blossoms taking shelter in his ribcage. Though Adam seems to be having completely contradictory thoughts, because all he does is shrug— almost defiant.

“I thought you’d like my company yes,” he says blithely, as if he were reading a weather forecast or some shit.

“Whatever,” Ronan says instead of telling him he’s right. But Adam takes it as is with a diffident little smile and stepping that much nearer, good ear tipped towards Ronan.

“You wanna get out of the crowd? Show me around this place?”

Ronan does not swallow down, not for any particular reason at least, like how maybe to the untrained ear that could’ve past as a come on.

That is not a thing that happens! He’s not some Bella Swan type swooning over a cute boy he’s pretty sure is the one. That’s not happening! Ronan is not doing that!

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Adam’s answering smile is radiant. And Ronan fucking hates himself for even knowing that word.

.-

“It’s huge…. Ah erm, your house I mean,” Adam coughs a little and Ronan’s absolutely ecstatic for the turning tables.

“Dad use to say that if we weren’t at our palace we still should live like kings, and my mom just indulged all his stupid whims,” Ronan explains, wistful.

“The Barns,” Adam says, slow and cautious, probably knowing that it’s a touchy subject but still curious. “That’s your palace, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Ronan nods, stops in front of a mantel underscoring a risibly large portrait of Niall and Arora, the pair of them juxtaposing completely but still both so etherial that it would be preposterous to ever imagine one without the other.

Beautiful and rugged. golden and dark. careless and careful.

Ronan feels a sudden, acute pang to his chest. Jesus Christ does he miss them.

“They’re beautiful,” Adam marvels, pinky touching the side of Ronan’s hand ever so tenderly from besides him. “You look exactly like your father.”

“Yeah… I’ve been told that.”

They stand there, in the silence, for a little longer— Ronan isn’t quite sure how much time past, a minute or hour, but it feels quiet. For the first time Ronan feels quiet and at peace when he looks at this portrait, and he isn’t sure if it’s a good sign that he’s finally starting to mend, or a bad one that says Greenmantle will soon cause him to join them on the other side.

Eventually, Ronan turns over— apologetic— To Adam, is surprised when he finds him staring with intense interest on the words carved into the frame.

“Omnium rum principia parva sunt,” Ronan reads out loud. “It means—“

“The beginnings of all things are small,” Adam says, mechanically, disbelievingly, confusedly.

“You know the quote then,” Ronan asks, is struck dumb when Adam’s ordinarily bright and methodical eyes flicker to him as if in a trance.

“No, not really. Just heard of it recently.”

Ronan nods, it being answer enough. “You wanna meet Chainsaw?”

“Chainsaw?” Adam repeats, finally appearing to come to his own again.

Ronan cocks his head, silently telling Adam to follow suit, and he does.

.-

“It’s a bird…”

“She’s a raven,” Ronan huffs. “Now who’s got wicked observational skills?”

Adam’s face goes a bit pale, looking excruciatingly uncomfortable as he just nods along to Ronan, not even bothering to snipe back.

“Yeah sure, of course she is.”

He finishes feeding Chainsaw and leads Adam back to his nearby room, pretending his skin isn’t squirming with anticipation.

“Is this how you court all your dates?” Adam asks, teasing unassuming all at once, a masterpiece of contradictions Ronan could spend an eon trying to parse out and wouldn’t grow tired.

“Is that what this is?” Ronan asks, tentative while sitting down besides him on the bed.

“Dunno,” Adam shrugs. “’S what I wanted it to be, reckoned you weren’t gonna make a move for another five years.”

Ronan’s face goes blotchy, and Adam’s laugh is something musical.

“You’re enjoying this.” Ronan huffs.

“You’re precious,” Adam preens, cupping Ronan’s cheek in earnest and slanting his lips against Ronan’s own, and suddenly all the muted grays of this poor substitute of The barns transform to vivid, screaming color. It’s slow and cautious at first but melts into something more, something so much more. It feels like nights racing in the BMW, and days running around the Barns as a kid, wild and free. It feels like sun kissed skies and when his cold fingers begin to thaw at the fire place. It feels like remembering and discovering and just knowing.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for like a year,” Adam admits, bashful, once they finally part, hot tendrils of breath skirting against Ronan’s lips and soft hands caressing his cheeks.

“Try. Like. three of them.” Ronan counters, punctuating his words with a kiss to Adam’s collar bone, the hinge of his jaw, the tops of his cheekbones.

He can do this, Adam wants him to do this. This is a thing that they’re doing.

“Jesus Ronan,” Adam says in an almost wine, snaking his hands beneath Ronan’’s shirt and splaying out his fingers greedily. “That’s like since we met?”

“I know.”

Adam swoops down so that their lips are moving against each other once more, and everything feels golden.

But it all goes to an abrupt halt when he feels Adam’s long fingers skimming his still bruised side and he sucks in a breath.

“Still tender,” he winces.

Adam pulls back, as if he’s been scorched.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ronan assures, only a bit pissy that the kissing has stopped— he liked the kissing. “Just a little sore spot.” His shirt rises up enough to give Adam a clear view of the still healing spot, is confused when his face goes a sickly green and he pulls away even further.

“What’s up Parrish?” Ronan asks, sitting up right alongside him.

“That… That looks like a kick. A hard one.”

Ronan kinks up his brows, teasing.

“So I swung back to bad ass or still a nerd with nose bleeds?”

“That’s a kick,” is all Adam repeats, like he’s gone mad.

“Yeah Parrish, I got in a fight. Don’t sweat, it comes with the territory of buzz cuts and leather jackets. Wouldn’t expect you to know Mr All America.”

“A fight,” Adam says, slow and confounded. His lips moving around the words and his face still blanched, a decidedly unhealthy hue spreading across his soft features.

“Parrish you okay?”

“I gotta— I gotta go.” He says, scrambling off the bed and straightening his clothes. Ronan feels distinctly like being left high and dry.

“Now? You have to leave now?”

“Yes, now. Immediately.”

“Okay… Gimme a minute to find my keys, I’ll drive you back to yours.”

“I want to walk,” Adam declines, already racing out the door.

“Woah, did I do something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” Adam says, face being tugged into a whole array of emotions before landing on a dangerously blank expression that Ronan’s never been able to read for shit.

Adam goes and Ronan’s confused and the house is still filled with fucking annoying ass guests.

.-

“You’re upset,” Blue says, blunt as ever.

“You’re annoying,” Ronan counters, snappish.

“It’s gotta due with Adam doesn’t it,” She charges, hands flying to her hips and looking more like Maura than Ronan could’ve ever expected.”’S why he’s called in sick to work for the past week and you’ve been more crass than usual.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan hisses, doesn’t look away from where they’re perched atop one of the higher buildings of Henrietta, perfect view to both its polished corners and seedy underbelly.

“I’m right, aren’t I,” Blue presses, but Ronan doesn’t bother to engage. “Just admit it!”

“So what if you are?”

“God, you both are such idiots.”

Ronan flips her the bird only just catching a flash of yellow ducking into an alleyway.

“Not the fuck today,” he hisses out morosely. “Call me on the bee,” he tells Blue before pouncing down and chasing after him.

He doesn’t hear her respond, doesn’t really hear anything. He only comes back to focus when the alleyway ends and he’s looking at The Magician standing rigid in front of St Agnes.

“You’re a dreamer,” He says with no fanfare, not accusing but not happy about it either.

“Wh—“

“”s why Greenmantle wants you.”

“Not exactly Nancy Drew,” Ronan mutters out, circling him cautiously.

“He killed your father, he’s the one who sent the hit on Niall.”

In an instance everything goes red, Ronan’s ears roaring with unadulterated fury.

Like a bullet, Ronan tackles into The Magician, hand wrapped around his neck and noses brushing against each other.

“how the fuck do you know that name,” he asks with heavy breaths.

“Greenmantle killed your father and he wants to kill you next because of some sort of vendetta against the Lynches.” Yellow cape manages out, barely breathing with Ronan’s hand still clasped tightly around his neck.

“Tell me how you know the name Niall?” He barks out, squeezing even harder. Though Ronan is confused when the magician doesn’t even try fighting back.

“I know you Ronan, it’s me.”

Everything stutters to a stop, and Ronan’s grasp begins to subside.

“You know my name? How do you know my name?”

“Because it’s me, It’s Adam.”

The world’s gone inside out, and flipped upside down and Ronan’s let go of the Magician— of Adam— and is across the yard once more, stunned silent as he watches as the Magician sheds off the yellow mask to reveal a familiar mop of sandy hair and night blue eyes and a tiny little dent over his top lip that Ronan’s never asked about but has always wondered if it had to do with the way he holds himself with caution strung into his stance. And absolutely nothing makes sense at all.

“Ad—Adam,” he balks.

“It’s a long story,” is all he says, completely glum.

“When did you— How did you—“

“Only the other night when we were in your room,” his cheeks go a fetching red at the memory and Ronan yearns to go back to that moment of tranquility before all of this. “I couldn’t believe it, but when I finally figured it out, it all made sense.”

“How— How did you.”

“Look Ronan— Or, erm … Greywaren, there’s no time to explain any of this right now.”

“Why the hell not,” Ronan snarls, tries to feel an appropriate amount of fear, but hates how he’ll probably always feel safe and secure when around fucking Adam Parrish, no matter who he’s dressed as.

“The Greenmantle you know, Colin, he’s dead.” Ronan balks, but Adam just steamrolls over it, continues on speaking with clipped words and a franticness Ronan doesn’t understand quite yet.”it’s his wife you need to worry about, Piper. She’s the one who hired me and has been looking for you, she wants to avenge him like some sort of Harley Quin esthetic.”

“I have no fucking idea what you’re saying.” Ronan informs him grimly.

“You don’t need to understand, just dream.” Adam tells him, thrusts out a manilla envelope to him and waits for Ronan to open it up and read its contents.

“Excuse me?”

“Read it. memorize it, Dream it.” Adam tells him.

“You want me to frame Greenmantle for some pretty heinous shit.”

“You want her taken out, don’t you,” Adam charges.

“How do you know I can even create this shit in my head?” Ronan asks, brows furrowed.

“I have faith,” Adam says with a seriousness etched into his features Ronan’s never seen. “And you’ve got fuel.”

“fuel?”

“Shit won’t be safe until she’s gone, if you ask me, I reckon that’s all your dad intended, for you and your brothers to be safe. I reckon that’s why he barred you guys from the Barns in the first place. Piper’s been there like a thousand times, the dream energy at The Barns is heavy, like a ley line all it’s own. But when the dangers gone, you can make it your palace again.”

“That’s detailed,” Ronan says slowly, still so totally confused.

“I’ve had a week to figure it all out, and this’s the only full proof plan I’ve got.” Adam tells him.

Ronan bores his eyes into Adam’s own, finds something he recognizes as quintessentially Adam Parrish in them, and feels that quiet again he did a week ago at Declan’s birthday party.

He feels sure.

“Okay, I’ll play along.”

“Good,” the ends of Adam’s lips curve up into a smile and Ronan feels like he’s finally gotten the answer right.

.-

They’re back sitting side by side on Adam’s desk, a newspaper in Ronan’s grasp announcing the arrest of Piper Greenmantle.

“You’re preening,” Adam mildly notes.

“I feel…. Free,” Ronan says, far too vulnerable for such a open place.

“I’m glad,” Adam says, voice shimmering with sincerity as he stands up. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, that you’ll always feel that.”

Ronan eyes him, confused.

“Sounds like a goodbye to me,” Ronan accuses, and Adam just shrugs.

“I’ve made a mess of everything, you almost got hurt, seriously hurt.”

“You didn’t know,” Ronan contends.

“I was flippant,” Adam corrects. “But she’s gone now, and you’re going to be safe, so it feels like the right point for me to maybe start fresh too.”

“No,” Ronan says.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a good guy Adam, and that’s more than most people. People either suck or are awful… You’re not, you’re good.”

Adam frowns.

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” Ronan stands up, wraps a hand around one of Adam’s slender wrists. “You’re good and you’re bold and you’re a genius and if it weren’t for you I’d probably still be running around terrified that Greenmantle would come back to finish me off. Thank you for giving me the chance not to be afraid of that anymore… Thank you for that.”

“Of course Lynch,”

Ronan swallows down, trying his hardest not to avert his gaze.

“So stay Parrish. Stay and let’s start shit over together.”

Adam doesn’t answer in so many words, instead just inclines his head forwards and kisses Ronan within an inch of his life.

Ronan likes that answer a whole hell of a lot more.

#PYNCH #RONAN LYNCH #ADAM PARRISH #THE RAVEN CYCLE #Spilled Ink #I'm a hot mess #It's Gucci I Know #SPILT INK

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endymionreads · 4 years

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So I've never done the Magical Readathon before, but it happened to cross my tl this afternoon on twitter, and I figured, since I'm trying to get back into reading, why not? It was the perfect opportunity!

I will be attempting all of the exams, and whatever I pass will be the N.E.W.T.S. I take if I do that in August! I don’t really know what I want to choose for a career yet, both irl and for the Readathon, so I’ll just be taking the exams and seeing where I end up!

You can view my TBR under the cut!

Ancient Runes → Read a book with a heart on the cover or in the title.

Bring Me Their Hearts by Sara Wolf

Zera is a Heartless – the immortal, unageing soldier of a witch. Bound to the witch Nightsinger ever since she saved her from the bandits who murdered her family, Zera longs for freedom from the woods they hide in. With her heart in a jar under Nightsinger’s control, she serves the witch unquestioningly. Until Nightsinger asks Zera for a Prince’s heart in exchange for her own, with one addendum; if she’s discovered infiltrating the court, Nightsinger will destroy her heart rather than see her tortured by the witch-hating nobles. Crown Prince Lucien d’Malvane hates the royal court as much as it loves him – every tutor too afraid to correct him and every girl jockeying for a place at his darkly handsome side. No one can challenge him – until the arrival of Lady Zera. She’s inelegant, smart-mouthed, carefree, and out for his blood. The Prince’s honor has him quickly aiming for her throat. So begins a game of cat and mouse between a girl with nothing to lose and a boy who has it all. Winner takes the loser’s heart. Literally.

Arithmancy → Read a book outside your favorite genre.

Red, White, & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

What happens when America's First Son falls in love with the Prince of Wales? When his mother became President of the United States, Alex Claremont-Diaz was promptly cast as the American equivalent of a young royal. Handsome, charismatic, genius—his image is pure millennial-marketing gold for the White House. There's only one problem: Alex has a beef with an actual prince, Henry, across the pond. And when the tabloids get hold of a photo involving an Alex/Henry altercation, U.S./British relations take a turn for the worse. Heads of the family and state and other handlers devise a plan for damage control: Stage a truce between the two rivals. What at first begins as a fake, Instagrammable friendship grows deeper, and more dangerous, than either Alex or Henry could have imagined. Soon Alex finds himself hurtling into a secret romance with a surprisingly unstuffy Henry that could derail the presidential campaign and upend two nations. It raises the question: Can love save the world after all? Where do we find the courage, and the power, to be the people we are meant to ben? And how can we learn to let our true colors shine through? , how will history remember you?

Astronomy → Read the majority of the book at night.

We Rule the Night by Claire Eliza Bertlett

Seventeen-year-old Revna is a factory worker, manufacturing war machines for the Union of the North. When she's caught using illegal magic, she fears being branded a traitor and imprisoned.

Meanwhile, on the front lines, Linne defied her father, a Union general, and disguised herself as a boy to join the army. They're both offered a reprieve from punishment if they use their magic in a special women's military flight unit and undertake terrifying, deadly missions under cover of darkness.

Revna and Linne can hardly stand to be in the same cockpit, but if they can't fly together, and if they can't find a way to fly well, the enemy's superior firepower will destroy them--if they don't destroy each other first.We Rule the Night is a powerful story about sacrifice, complicated friendships, and survival despite impossible odds

Care of Magical Creatures → Read a book with a creature with a beak on the cover.

Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim

Maia Tamarin dreams of becoming the greatest tailor in the land, but as a girl, the best she can hope for is to marry well. When a royal messenger summons her ailing father, once a tailor of renown, to court, Maia poses as a boy and takes his place. She knows her life is forfeit if her secret is discovered, but she'll take that risk to achieve her dream and save her family from ruin. There's just one catch: Maia is one of twelve tailors vying for the job. Backstabbing and lies run rampant as the tailors compete in challenges to prove their artistry and skill. Maia's task is further complicated when she draws the attention of the court magician, Edan, whose piercing eyes seem to see straight through her disguise. And nothing could have prepared her for the final challenge: to sew three magic gowns for the emperor's reluctant bride-to-be, from the laughter of the sun, the tears of the moon, and the blood of stars. With this impossible task before her, she embarks on a journey to the far reaches of the kingdom, seeking the sun, the moon, and the stars, and finding more than she ever could have imagined.

Charms → Read a book that has a white cover.

The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

It is freezing in the churchyard, even before the dead arrive. Every year, Blue Sargent stands next to her clairvoyant mother as the soon-to-be dead walk past. Blue herself never sees them—not until this year, when a boy emerges from the dark and speaks directly to her. His name is Gansey, and Blue soon discovers that he is a rich student at Aglionby, the local private school. Blue has a policy of staying away from Aglionby boys. Known as Raven Boys, they can only mean trouble. But Blue is drawn to Gansey, in a way she can’t entirely explain. He has it all—family money, good looks, devoted friends—but he’s looking for much more than that. He is on a quest that has encompassed three other Raven Boys: Adam, the scholarship student who resents all the privilege around him; Ronan, the fierce soul who ranges from anger to despair; and Noah, the taciturn watcher of the four, who notices many things but says very little. For as long as she can remember, Blue has been warned that she will cause her true love to die. She never thought this would be a problem. But now, as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she’s not so sure anymore.

Defense Against the Dark Arts → Read a book set at the sea or on the coast.

Seafire by Natalie C. Parker

After her family is killed by corrupt warlord Aric Athair and his bloodthirsty army of Bullets, Caledonia Styx is left to chart her own course on the dangerous and deadly seas. She captains her ship, the Mors Navis, with a crew of girls and women just like her, who have lost their families and homes because of Aric and his men. The crew has one mission: stay alive, and take down Aric's armed and armored fleet. But when Caledonia's best friend and second-in-command barely survives an attack thanks to help from a Bullet looking to defect, Caledonia finds herself questioning whether to let him join their crew. Is this boy the key to taking down Aric Athair once and for all . . . or will he threaten everything the women of the Mors Navis have worked for?

Divination → Assign numbers to your TBR List, and use a generator to pick the book.

All the Stars and Teeth by Adalyn Grace

Set in a kingdom where danger lurks beneath the sea, mermaids seek vengeance with song, and magic is a choice. She will reign. As princess of the island kingdom Visidia, Amora Montara has spent her entire life training to be High Animancer—the master of souls. The rest of the realm can choose their magic, but for Amora, it’s never been a choice. To secure her place as heir to the throne, she must prove her mastery of the monarchy’s dangerous soul magic. When her demonstration goes awry, Amora is forced to flee. She strikes a deal with Bastian, a mysterious pirate: he’ll help her prove she’s fit to rule, if she’ll help him reclaim his stolen magic. But sailing the kingdom holds more wonder—and more peril—than Amora anticipated. A destructive new magic is on the rise, and if Amora is to conquer it, she’ll need to face legendary monsters, cross paths with vengeful mermaids, and deal with a stow-away she never expected… or risk the fate of Visidia and lose the crown forever. I am the right choice. The only choice. And I will protect my kingdom.

Herbology → Read a book where title starts with an m.

Mirage by Somaiya Daud

In a star system dominated by the brutal Vathek empire, eighteen-year-old Amani is a dreamer. She dreams of what life was like before the occupation; she dreams of writing poetry like the old-world poems she adores; she dreams of receiving a sign from Dihya that one day, she, too, will have adventure, and travel beyond her isolated moon. But when adventure comes for Amani, it is not what she expects: she is kidnapped by the regime and taken in secret to the royal palace, where she discovers that she is nearly identical to the cruel half-Vathek Princess Maram. The princess is so hated by her conquered people that she requires a body double, someone to appear in public as Maram, ready to die in her place. As Amani is forced into her new role, she can’t help but enjoy the palace’s beauty—and her time with the princess’ fiancé, Idris. But the glitter of the royal court belies a world of violence and fear. If Amani ever wishes to see her family again, she must play the princess to perfection...because one wrong move could lead to her death.

History of Magic → Read a book featuring witches and/or wizards

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by JK Rowling

Harry Potter's life is miserable. His parents are dead and he's stuck with his heartless relatives, who force him to live in a tiny closet under the stairs. But his fortune changes when he receives a letter that tells him the truth about himself: he's a wizard. A mysterious visitor rescues him from his relatives and takes him to his new home, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After a lifetime of bottling up his magical powers, Harry finally feels like a normal kid. But even within the Wizarding community, he is special. He is the boy who lived: the only person to have ever survived a killing curse inflicted by the evil Lord Voldemort, who launched a brutal takeover of the Wizarding world, only to vanish after failing to kill Harry. Though Harry's first year at Hogwarts is the best of his life, not everything is perfect. There is a dangerous secret object hidden within the castle walls, and Harry believes it's his responsibility to prevent it from falling into evil hands. But doing so will bring him into contact with forces more terrifying than he ever could have imagined. Full of sympathetic characters, wildly imaginative situations, and countless exciting details, the first installment in the series assembles an unforgettable magical world and sets the stage for many high-stakes adventures to come.

Muggle Studies → Read a contemporary book.

Of Curses and Kisses by Sandhya Menon

Will the princess save the beast? For Princess Jaya Rao, nothing is more important than family. When the loathsome Emerson clan steps up their centuries-old feud to target Jaya’s little sister, nothing will keep Jaya from exacting her revenge. Then Jaya finds out she’ll be attending the same elite boarding school as Grey Emerson, and it feels like the opportunity of a lifetime. She knows what she must do: Make Grey fall in love with her and break his heart. But much to Jaya’s annoyance, Grey’s brooding demeanor and lupine blue eyes have drawn her in. There’s simply no way she and her sworn enemy could find their fairy-tale ending…right? His Lordship Grey Emerson is a misanthrope. Thanks to an ancient curse by a Rao matriarch, Grey knows he’s doomed once he turns eighteen. Sequestered away in the mountains at St. Rosetta’s International Academy, he’s lived an isolated existence—until Jaya Rao bursts into his life, but he can't shake the feeling that she’s hiding something. Something that might just have to do with the rose-shaped ruby pendant around her neck… As the stars conspire to keep them apart, Jaya and Grey grapple with questions of love, loyalty, and whether it’s possible to write your own happy ending.

Potions → Read a book under 150 pages

Red As Blood And White As Bone by Theodora Goss

Red as Blood and White as Bone by Theodora Goss is a dark fantasy about a kitchen girl obsessed with fairy tales, who upon discovering a ragged woman outside the castle during a storm, takes her in--certain she’s a princess in disguise.

Transfiguration → Read a book or series that includes shapeshifting

Wild Magic by Tamora Pierce

Young Daine's knack with horses gets her a job helping the royal horsemistress drive a herd of ponies to Tortall. Soon it becomes clear that Daine's talent, as much as she struggles to hide it, is downright magical. Horses and other animals not only obey, but listen to her words. Daine, though, will have to learn to trust humans before she can come to terms with her powers, her past, and herself.

Like what I post? Follow me on: twitter | curiouscat | wordpress | goodreads

#im back!#magical readathon #books #bookblr #book reviews

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emjenwrites · 4 years

Text

2019 Wrap Up

So @deadendtracks and @blueseyforthesoul did this, and I thought it was cool and decided to do it too, which is might be lame, but it was still fun so here we go:

Total 2019 word count: 135,545 words 🎉

And of course tumblr won’t let me insert a read-more link. That’s just typical.

January

Something in the air’s not right today The Raven Cycle 8,405 words (part one posted in 2018) Gansey, Adam, the Gangsey Gansey is not having a good day. Part two in Adam's POV.

February

Miles to go before I sleep The Wrath and the Dawn 1,800 words Khalid, Ava, Aref al-Khoury, background Khalid/Shahrzad Khalid realizes that this sleeplessness thing has officially gotten out of hand the day that he walks into his chambers and sees Ava standing in the center of the room. Or the one where Khalid hallucinates his dead first wife. She's not happy.

March

Feels like we’re on the edge right now The Folk of the Air 3,497 words Jude/Cardan, Roiben The one where Jude doesn’t kill Balekin and Roiben shows up ready to give Cardan a piece of his mind.

Help me piece it all together, darling, before it falls apart The Shadowhunter Chronicles (The Mortal Instruments) 3,585 words Clary/Jace It was done, but that was different than saying it was finished. Or Clary and Jace post-CoHF.

April

Please, don’t tell Ronan about this The Raven Cycle 2,276 words Declan/Adam Written for @toast-the-unknowing‘s Declan/Adam Prompt Festival Someone pounds on Adam's door in the middle of the night. He opens the door to a blood-soaked Declan Lynch. "Don't tell Ronan about this," Declan begs.

May

O Queen of air and darkness, / I think 'tis truth you say The Shadowhunter Chronicles (The Dark Artifices/The Mortal Instruments) 1,824 words Clary/Jace (And I shall die tomorrow; / But you will die today.) Clary and Jace during part two of QOAAD.

Every Step of the Way The Folk of the Air 715 words Jude/Cardan Jude tries to get Cardan out of bed. Written for the prompt "To be honest I could[n’t] care less" on Tumblr.

Business as Usual Six of Crows 1,008 words Nina, Kaz, Jesper, Wylan, Inej [Fightingverse] A building catches on fire. Kaz does something stupid. Written for the prompt "Do you smell something burning?" on Tumblr.

June

One Villain, Two Villain Six of Crows 1,706 words Kaz/Inej [Fightingverse] Kaz and Inej discuss a pair of new threats stalking the Dregs. Written for the prompt “Going somewhere?” on Tumblr.

Ketterdam Stops for No One Six of Crows 843 words Jesper, Kaz [Fightingverse] Jesper tries to convince Kaz to stay inside on a cold night. Written for the prompt “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself" on Tumblr.

It's late and you're still staring at the light Six of Crows 1,791 words Kaz/Inej After Nina and the others leave with Matthias's body, Inej follows Kaz back to the Slat. Written for the prompt "You need sleep" on Tumblr.

Stalemate The Folk of the Air 799 words Jude/Cardan, Vivi Jude and Cardan have a standoff in Vivi's kitchen. Written for the prompt "Don’t lie to me" on Tumblr.

Honesty The Folk of the Air 796 words Jude/Cardan Jude and Cardan late at night. Written for the prompts “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” and “I’ve always been honest with you” on Tumblr.

What if I fell to the floor? Six of Crows 6,786 words Kaz/Inej, Anika, Jesper/Wylan [Fightingverse] “[Inej] doesn’t need to know,” Kaz said. “I’m going to be fine by the time she gets back.” Or the one where Kaz gets pneumonia.

Walking With Eyes Tight Shut Six of Crows 4,614 words OCs, Jesper/Wylan, Kaz/Inej [Fightingverse] Ambroos Baas came to Ketterdam to reform it. He may not realize it yet, but he’s in way over his head.

July

Seven Bells Six of Crows 1,303 words Kaz, Wylan [Fightingverse] Kaz and Wylan early in the morning. Written for the prompt “How are you feeling today?” on Tumblr.

The Flaming Skies [M-rated] Six of Crows 2,945 words Kaz, OCs, the Crows [Fightingverse] Kees Van Dijk killed a child to get Kaz Brekker's attention. Kaz Brekker will not stand for it.

Fading out again The Nikolai Duology 3,391 words Zoya/Nikolai, Tolya, Tamar "Genya ran her fingers over the carved surface of the trunk. 'The process won't be easy on him. It will be a bit like drowning every night and being revived every morning.'" Or the one where Genya and David's sedative turns out to have some nasty side effects.

I'm safe inside the light, so go on do your worst The Stormlight Archive 24,797 (parts 1-2 posted in 2018) Elhokar, Dalinar, OC Elhokar was a failure at everything he’d ever done. He’d failed as a son, as a warrior and as a king. He saw no reason to fail as a Knight Radiant too. Or the one where Elhokar swears to the first Ideal at the end of WoK.

A Job Well Done The Grisha Trilogy/The Nikolai Duology 1,384 words Zoya, the Darkling Written for @zoyanazyalenski‘s Zoya Week Thirteen-year-old Zoya is sent to talk to the Darkling after getting her amplifier. Written for day two (badass moments) of @zoyanazyalenski's Zoya Week on Tumblr.

You could never stop Six of Crows 1,776 words Kaz, Nina, Matthias, Wylan "[Kaz] was already dragging himself up the boulders that lined the far side of the gorge. [...] Nina shook her head, caught between annoyance and admiration. Maybe that was what it took to survive in the Barrel. You could never stop." Or the one where Kaz doesn't quite manage to walk off drowning in the Ice Court moat.

Tonight The Nikolai Duology/The Grisha Trilogy 724 words Zoya/Nikolai, Tamar/Nadia, Genya/David Written for @zoyanazyalenski‘s Zoya Week There were a number of things that Zoya hadn’t expected to happen when the war was over. Weekly friend group dinners were one of them. Written for the prompt "found family" for day five of @zoyanazyalenski's Zoya Week on Tumblr.

Truth be told, I never was yours The Nikolai Duology 1,345 words Zoya/Nikolai, Nikolai/Ehri Written for @zoyanazyalenski‘s Zoya Week Zoya and Nikolai minutes before Nikolai's wedding to Ehri. Written for the prompt "romantic entanglement" for Zoya Week on Tumblr.

You'll be the one voice of reason The Nikolai Duology 1,840 words Zoya/Nikolai, Tamar, Tolya, Nikolai/Ehri Written for @zoyanazyalenski‘s Zoya Week Nikolai looses control of the monster again. Zoya finally gets around to telling Tolya and Tamar about the royal order Nikolai signed while in the Fold. Written for the prompt "the Queen of Ravka" for Zoya Week on Tumblr.

August

Thinking too Hard The Modern Faerie Tales 957 words Val/Ravus A glimpse into one of Val's training sessions. She and Ravus both have other things on their minds.

The Least He Can Say The Raven Cycle 1,459 words Gansey, Declan Written for @ganseyweek Gansey and Declan in a hospital waiting room after Ronan's supposed suicide attempt. Written for Gansey Week day one "Out of Time."

No dawn, no day The Raven Cycle 3,451 words Blue/Gansey, Ronan/Adam Written for @ganseyweek Massively overtired Gansey meets his new skating partner, Blue. She doesn't particularly like him. Written for Gansey Week day 2 "Insomnia."

Ask the question The Raven Cycle 2,161 words Blue/Gansey, Blue/Gansey/Henry Written for @ganseyweek Blue discovers something interesting in Gansey's bags. Or the one where Gansey gains psychic abilities. Written for Gansey Week day three "Road Trip."

Dark Shadows The Raven Cycle 1,435 words Gansey Written for @ganseyweek "He was a king. This was the year he was going to die." Or Gansey goes for a drive and tries to deal with knowing he's going to die. Written for Gansey Week day four using the bonus prompt "dark shadows."

Talking to You The Raven Cycle 1,543 words Helen, Gansey Written for @ganseyweek Helen meets up with Gansey in France. Her goal is to convince him to come back to the US. Written for Gansey Week day 5 "Family."

And the damage makes you want to hide The Raven Cycle 2,889 words Gansey Written for @ganseyweek Gansey has wings. No one knows, and that's the way he likes it. Written for Gansey Week day 6 "Wings."

Old Friends The Raven Cycle 1,686 words Gansey, OC Written for @ganseyweek Gansey and Ronan lost some friends after Niall Lynch died. Turns out those old friends only have a problem with Ronan. Gansey is not happy. Written for Gansey Week day seven "Fight."

Troubled by Dreams The Folk of the Air 1,329 words Jude/Cardan “I have too often been troubled by dreams of Jude...her face features prominently in my most frequent nightmare." Or the one where Cardan dreams of Jude. Too bad his subconscious is using her as a voice box.

September

The Fallibility of Memory The Raven Cycle 1,230 words Noah, Gansey Gansey and Noah talk about how they met. This is not the first time they've had this conversation. Originally written for Gansey Week day four "Memories," but turned out to be a fic about Noah, not Gansey.

What are words? Six of Crows 6,147 (incomplete, 4/5 chapters done) The Crows, OCs [Fightingverse] Five conversations which took place before Maxim Vasilyev came to Ketterdam.

Together Six of Crows 1,307 words Jesper/Wylan, Colm [Heavyverse] Modern AU. Jesper and Wylan tell Colm they're dating.

October

Grandstanding The Folk of the Air 2,543 words Jude/Cardan Jude returns to Elfhame with a plan to gain her position as High Queen.

Ace of Cups The Alex Stern Series 6,197 words Dawes, Darlington Written for @fandomaspecfest Anyone’s knee-jerk reaction would be to say Pamela Dawes was into Daniel Arlington. Pamela Dawes was not into Daniel Arlington. Or the one where Dawes is aroace.

Dying by degrees Peaky Blinders 7,770 words Tommy, Ada, Freddie A week before he died, Freddie Thorne asked to see Tommy Shelby one last time. To say it was a complicated experience for all involved would be an understatement.

November

And all of the ghouls come out to play Six of Crows 3,395 words Nina, Jordie, Kaz [Fightingverse] "Greed may do your bidding, but death serves no man." Or the one where Jordie is actually haunting Kaz.

Numb me down to the core Peaky Blinders 6,273 words Finn, Tommy Written for @peakyblindersexchange On Christmas Eve Finn Shelby had three brothers. Now he had one. Or Finn and Tommy in the aftermath of Arthur’s “death.”

A Good Story Peaky Blinders 1,926 words Tommy, Ada Written by @peakyblindersexchange Pre-Series. Tommy, Ada and petty theft.

December

Left Alone Peaky Blinders 1,897 words Tommy, Charlie Written for @peakyblindersexchange A morning during s4. Tommy hates the Watery Lane house. Charlie wants his dad.

How to Save a Life Six of Crows 41,850 words (complete, currently posting) Kaz/Inej, Jesper/Wylan, Nina/Matthias, Kuwei, Jordie Written for @grishaversebigbang "Kaz took a deep breath and tried to prepare himself for what was to come. He’d done this before, in similarly hopeless situations, but it was always hard. Logically he knew that this was just another tool, another trick, but it always felt wrong." Or the one where Kaz is a Grisha Healer.

#mine #2019 wrap up

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pynches · 5 years

Text

risk it all (for you) ch7

a/n look i sincerely am sorry but at least you have some blue/ronan friendship content so...

word count: 1958

Today was the first time in weeks Adam wasn’t in the car next to him on his way to school. He thought about skipping, not seeing the point in going when their fake-relationship was no over. But he couldn’t let Adam face the Aglioby student body alone, especially not with that jerk Preston around. Ronan was prepared to fight him if he dared to comment on their broken “relationship”. He was even looking forward to it. Punching that dick in the face would be a great stress-reliever and God knows he needs it.

Ronan hadn’t slept that night. He had dozed away for a bit and nearly brought back a nightmare creature, so he decided to stay awake, listening to his ear-deafening music to drown away the images that kept haunting him. Adam’s lips on his, his hands grabbing the back of his neck to pull him closer, the resignation and hurt on Adam’s face clear and unavoidable when Ronan put an end to all of this.

Aglionby came in sight sooner than Ronan was ready for. After parking his car in a teacher spot, which nobody dared to call him out for, he stayed inside for a little while, mentally preparing himself to go in. He rubbed his raw fist which was still throbbing from when he smashed it against the St. Agnes building last night.

The first bell rung and Ronan finally decided to get out and go inside, promptly ignoring the ever so familiar bike that was parked near the entrance.

He let himself fall into the seat next to Gansey where he usually sat in Latin class. Wide and concerned eyes searched his but Ronan turned away. He tried to focus on the front of the class instead where their teacher was writing Latin proverbs down on the massive whiteboard, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the slightly ginger mop of hair that was sitting right in front of him.

In his dreams, he traced the freckles of Adam’s arms and kissed the ones on his face. His mom used to call freckles “kisses from angels” and when he met Adam, he finally understood why. Now, they were just taunting him, showing him what he could never have, never touch, especially now that he had fucked it all up.

Adam didn’t turn around once.

Ronan tried to catch Adam’s eyes, just once, the entire day, without success. By the end of the last period, Ronan was seething with anger and sadness that he couldn’t keep contained anymore. Apparently, he looked so murderous, even Preston and his goonies had shut their mouths to him. They hadn’t said anything to Adam either, Gansey had told him. Ronan was both relieved and frustrated that he couldn’t release some of his pent up anger.

“I talked to Jane,” Gansey said, holding his iPhone X like a middle-aged mom would, writing a message with only his forefinger. Ronan wanted to slap it out of his hands. “You’re going over to Fox Way.”

“Like hell I am,” Ronan bit back. He last thing he wanted was to be surrounded by the nosy psychics and too snarky for her own good Blue who would see right through him like not many people could.

“Ronan,” Gansey sighed. His name sounded like disappointment coming from his mouth. “I can’t get through to you and this tension between the two of you is bothering the others.”

Ronan found it very hard to care but he couldn’t deny Gansey. Nobody could. So, Ronan stepped into his car with the promise that he would visit Blue but stay for half an hour max, which Gansey eventually agreed to.

He was about to turn the ignition when he saw Adam walking out of the building, gathering his bike. The only route from the school to St. Agnes was riding the path next to Ronan’s car. Ronan left the keys in the ignition but didn’t turn it and sat back instead.

Adam seemed hesitant to ride past him but Ronan knew he had work after school and he needed to get to St. Agnes quickly to change clothes and get ready.

It wasn’t fair, waiting for him and forcing Adam to see him. He knew should have driven away, but Ronan missed him like a limb. The soft brown of Adam’s eyes as they sparkled in joy after Ronan made some stupid joke in Latin, the way his hand felt when it had held his for the past few weeks. Just the warmth of Adam’s body walking next to him, filling his space like he belonged there, being gone left Ronan shivering the entire day.

Ronan noticed the dark circles first which were stark against his pale skin. He found Adam’s eyes not long after. They were not soft or warm or sparkling. They were hard, cold and filled with pain. Tears were forming in Ronan’s eyes which he rapidly blinked away and then Adam was gone.

Ronan smacked his not-hurt hand against the steering wheel, over and over until the skin was red and Ronan felt bruises starting to form.

He just lost one of the most important people in his life and he had no idea how he was going to cope.

-

“You look like shit,” Blue said immediately after opening the door. She watched him with scrutinising eyes and instead of being Ronan and snarking back, he deflated. Blue softly took his arm in her tiny hand and led him inside without saying anything else. She sat him down in the living room where the women of Fox Way cleared out.

“Ronan,” she said watching him with big worried eyes. “Talk to me.”

And he did. For all that he teased Blue, she really did become someone important to him. She was one of the most non-judgemental people he had met in his life and somehow she made it feel like he could tell her everything without having to worry. She didn’t even blink when he told her Adam had kissed him.

“And then I told him I couldn’t do it anymore,” he told her, tears prickling in his throat. She squeezed his shoulder gently.

“You can but not-,” she started.

“Not like this,” he finished letting his head hang. “I wished it was real,” he whispered, just loud enough for Blue to hear.

“I know,” she whispered back and held him until a few tears started to fall.

“Look what you did, Sargent,” Ronan laughed, it didn’t reach his eyes. Blue tried to smile back, but Ronan could sense the hint of pity in the curve of her lips.

After a few moments of silence, Maura came in with a pot of freshly brewed tea. She set it down on the table in front of them and sat down on the chair opposite of them. She gestured towards the tea and said, “drink”, watching as they both poured themselves some tea.

It tasted like shit but Ronan drank it anyway, anything to stop the pain in his throat, the result of unshed tears.

“He cares deeply about you,” Maura said, her eyes thoughtful.

“Did you see that in those cards of yours?” Ronan replied, trying to distract her. It didn’t work.

“No,” Maura said patiently. “I have eyes.”

Ronan shook his head and kept quiet. Even if Adam cared about him, he had still messed everything up and it would take a long time for everything to go back to normal.

“Talk to him,” a soft melodic voice said. All three turned around to the direction from which it came. A tiny frame and long white-blond hair. Ronan had learned from the few visits he had made to Fox Way that Persephone didn’t say much. Her speaking now said more than her words did.

Ronan glanced at Blue who nodded fervently. “Giving up is not the answer. Do you really want to ruin your entire friendship with Adam to the point of never getting it back?”

“We’re already at that point,” Ronan told her, his voice weaker than he wanted it to sound.

“Bullshit!”

Maura didn’t seem bothered by her language.

Blue fixed him with a heated look, one that left him unable to look away. “Maybe, just maybe, you need to pull your head out of your ass, stop behaving like an idiot, and just talk to him.”

“Sargent-“

“No, I’m not done,” she said, pointing her finger at Ronan’s face. “Did you honestly think that you could just leave it like this and everything would be magically fixed? That is not how it works. He kissed you. On. The. Mouth. So, tell me, Lynch, what in the world made you think that he’s not into you for real?”

“Well-, we-, I-,” Ronan stammered, looking at Maura and Persephone for help but they were just watching, their eyes flickering from Blue to Ronan. “We were fake dating, you know?” he finished helplessly.

Blue rolled her eyes so hard that Ronan was scared they were going to pop out of her head. “What about the “no kissing” rule?”

“The-“

Blue fixed him with a look and suddenly it dawned on him. The “no kissing” rule! When they had started their fake-relationship, kissing on the mouth was off the table, which only meant.

“He wanted to,” Ronan said, suddenly feeling elated and restless. “It wasn’t pretend. He wanted to kiss me.”

“Probably,” Blue said simply.

“I have to go,” Ronan said, standing up so quickly he nearly knocked the teacups to the floor.

“I got it,” Blue said, holding them steady. “Good luck.”

Ronan gave her a small but true smile, the first one he had let out in days. “I’m gonna need it,” he muttered to himself as he walked through the Fox Way maze in out of the door. Adam had work right now but he would be at St. Agnes tonight. Ronan was gonna go over and tell him everything. Anything to salvage what they had.

The hours Ronan had to wait were spend driving around on the outskirts of Henrietta, letting the feeling of the motor purring underneath him calm him down. He didn’t know what he was going to say, not exactly at least, but he had never been a planner, not even before. His mom always encouraged him to follow his heart instead and he still did. Declan called it reckless, Ronan called it freeing.

He parked outside St. Agnes church about an hour after he knew Adam would be home. Nerves hit him, climbing higher and higher through his body until he thought he was going to choke on it. He stepped forward anyway.

Ronan knocked on Adam’s door, silently praying that Adam would open the door. No response came. Ronan knew he was inside, though. He saw the light from underneath the door.

“Parrish, open up,” he shouted, knocking again, to no avail.

Ronan let his head fall against the door and raised his fist for one last attempt.

“Adam,” he said, knocking softer than he had before. “Please.”

There was no sound from the apartment. Ronan didn’t hear the tell-tale footsteps of Adam Parrish, he didn’t meet Adam’s exasperated face like he had so many times before.

For the first time, Adam had left him standing in front of a closed door.

If Ronan had listened more carefully, he would have heard sniffling coming from the inside, he would have heard the broken sobs as he walked away. If he had heard anything over the sound of his mind rubbing in the defeat he felt, he would have known.

Instead, he kept walking, got inside his car, and drove off with no destination in mind.

#pynch #pynch fic #pynch fanfiction #pynch fanfic #adam x ronan #ronan x adam #adam parrish #ronan lynch #trc #trc fic #trc fanfic #trc fanfiction #the raven cycle #the raven cycle fic #the raven cycle fanfic #the raven cycle fanfiction #mine

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randykorn · 4 years

Text

2019 Writing Roundup

Under the cut because I have never been succinct in my life and this is no exception

JANUARY: Welcome to Aglionby

“Okay, okay,” Maura said, holding up her hands for peace, swinging her gaze between Blue and Gansey. “We don’t know everything-“

“We hardly know anything, really-“ Persephone interjected.

“But I will tell you what we do know. This boy is on a quest for a lost king. This boy is touched by death. This boy will either save this town, or doom it. And you, Blue, are going to help him do it.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means that there’s a prophecy,” Maura said, “that we’ve been monitoring for quite some time now. It means that the cards say that you’re both at the heart of it. It means that you’re both going to face danger and decisions that will change you forever.”

“It means that it’s starting,” Persephone said with a laugh that struck Gansey like lightning. “It’s finally starting.”

FEBRUARY: Welcome to Aglionby

Slowly, he unfolded the letter, already dreading what he’d find.

Henry Cheng called. Went to Hirshhorn. Be back soon. Safe dreams. -Gansey

The crumpled letter was hitting the opposite wall before Ronan even realized what he’d read.

This close to the full moon, Hirshhorn would be an endless maze, easy to enter but impossible to leave. And that wasn’t even accounting for the line’s gathering energy. Gansey would be in there alone, without Ronan to guide him and keep him safe by navigating the fluctuating magic. But Gansey wasn’t alone, was he? No, he had-

“Henry Cheng,” he hissed.

Henry Cheng, who modeled for Ronan’s art classes and gently kissed him in empty hallways, never forcing Ronan to speak, instead trusting him to act. Henry Cheng, earning Ronan’s voice and truths and fears when he was drunk enough to give them. Henry Cheng, who promised something softer than Kavinsky, but just as exciting, and likely more real.

Henry Cheng, who seemed to be involved in this fucking prophecy.

MARCH: Welcome to Aglionby

“What in the nine heavens is that?” Henry asked, pressing against Ronan’s seat to get a better view.

Something moved in Gansey’s peripheral vision, in front of the car. Something large and white and glowing.

“That,” Adam said quietly, sounding just as shaken as Gansey felt, “is The Beast.”

Gansey whipped back around so fast he felt the Camaro shake. Standing directly in front of the Pig was the largest deer he had ever seen. Easily twenty feet tall, the sight of it made his stomach drop out, equal parts fear and awe. It was just as Adam said - glowing white fur woven from moonlight, with a subtle sheen of blue. Small, silver butterflies fluttered around it, dancing in its glow. Moss and vines draped elegantly between its antlers, forming a natural crown of delicate, pale blooming flowers.

The Beast suddenly struck him as a wholly inaccurate name. It was far too crude, too rough, too lacking for such a magnificent creature. What stood in front of them contained all the delicacy of the moon and all the strength of the sun. The Beast simply didn’t come close to capturing it.

It looked at him, stark white eyes meeting his through the windshield, and Gansey found that he couldn’t breathe. Its gaze bored into him, looking far past his physical appearance. Gansey felt a shiver run through his mind, his soul, through everything he was and everything he would ever be. He felt himself pulled into that all-encompassing white expanse as it read him, judged him, measured him against what he needed to accomplish. For the moment he felt blank, peaceful, and if he hadn’t known better, he would have thought that this soft, floating space within himself was akin to death.

APRIL: Welcome to Aglionby

“I’ll do it,” Adam said, standing up and turning toward The Beast. “I’ll do it, if you’ll have me. If you’ll keep him alive.”

He couldn’t change the past, couldn’t help his younger self when no one else would, but maybe, just maybe, he could help this boy here, now, right in front of him. Maybe he could manage to be what his younger self had always needed, by being what this boy needed now.

Adam climbed up onto the stump, standing tall as the wind whipped and swirled around him. He still had to look up to meet The Beast’s eyes, but at least they were on more even ground, now. The boy shook beneath him, beside him, within him, and Adam hoped he was making the right choice.

“Well?” he asked, staring upward with a confidence he didn’t really feel, spreading his arms to the sides. Open. Vulnerable. “Will I do?”

Yes.

MAY: TRC Rewrite (unpublished)

Adam was quiet for a while, slowly unwinding his anger as his eyes searched Gansey for some unknowable quality. Gansey, for his part, let himself be studied in silence.

This was the moment he had told Ronan about Glendower - about the truth and the pain and the magic - but reversed. Inverted, a mirror reflected out. He had watched Ronan like Adam was watching him now, carefully cataloguing everything he knew of his friend and weighing him against a lifelong desire to be believed. To be known.

He could feel a secret rising up in the air, and he hardly dared to breathe lest he scare it away.

Trust me, his mind whispered. Trust me like I trust you.

JUNE: TRC Rewrite (unpublished)

For an instant, Ronan imagined the scene. Gansey waking to find Ronan missing, sighing to himself as he pulled on days-old clothing and grabbed the keys to the dreadful Suburban. Gansey wandering the streets, worry squirming in his gut, holding off on calling the others - but only just. Gansey finally making his way to the church as the dawn inched across the sky. Gansey seeing the blood spattered across the steps, already turning brown, before noticing Ronan’s broken body crumpled on the ground.

For an instant, Ronan wondered if the Grey Man would be smart enough to make it look like a suicide.

For an instant, Ronan wondered if Gansey would believe that.

Of course he would. A part of Gansey was always braced for the worst Ronan had to offer, even as he yearned to believe that Ronan was better, now. Ronan was starting to believe that “better” was a myth, that healing was an unattainable platitude forced upon grieving teenagers that no one knew how to handle.

Did he still want to die?

Sometimes.

Did he want to die under the hands of the same man who had murdered his father?

Fuck. No.

JULY: TRC Rewrite (unpublished)

A flash of darkness surged out of the trees, landing on top of his car with enough force to dent the roof inward. Adam cursed as the back wheels buckled and skid sideways, sending the car into a wild tailspin. He wrestled for control as an inhuman screech scraped against his ears, calling for blood and destruction. Gleaming claws pressed against the windshield, and Adam screwed his eyes shut as glass exploded inward, several large shards shattering into dust as they hit his skin.

Cabeswater, protecting him.

But from what?

Adam blinked upward, just long enough to catch a glimpse of an amorphous dark shape against the swirling vortex outside the car, everything in shadow except for the small details. The teeth glinting in the shuttering light of his dashboard. The claws curling around the space where his windshield had just been, piercing the underside of the roof. The six eyes glowing like ravenous fire, ready to swallow him whole.

The trees, he thought wildly, abandoning the steering wheel entirely to brace his head with both arms. I’m going to hit the-

AUGUST: Welcome to Aglionby (unpublished)

There was no ground, no sky, no way to orient himself as he fought his way through the smoke, the darkness, the voices that rolled around him, over him, through him. His body felt heavy, sluggish, each small movement taking more energy than he was sure he had.

He lifted his hand to his face, knowing it wasn’t the first time he’d done this, either. The memories fell into place in his mind, identical dominos all collapsing into a single, present moment of uncertain fear.

He was fading.

His skin was transparent; wispy and thin, layered over his bones like an indistinct x-ray. The bones themselves gave off the faintest glow, making it easier to pick out the tiny veins and arteries that curled through him, rivers that wound their way through the valleys and peaks of his physiology.

This would be great for anatomy class. The thought startled a desperate, panicked laugh out of him that faded within seconds, and he was left with a terribly hollow feeling. Something told him he wouldn’t be going back to anatomy class for quite some time.

Noah pulled his hand to his chest, feeling the frantic beat pulsing through him, steadying some wordless fear within him.

Alive.

SEPTEMBER: TRC Rewrite (unpublished)

Adam remembered carefully researching the cheapest way to get to New York, remembered thinking that it would be easy to get lost in the crowd of the city. He remembered slowly filling his backpack with clothes and snacks over several weeks, remembered shoving in his toiletries in the panicked silence of that final night. He remembered sneaking into his parents’ room and stealing the credit card out of Dad’s wallet. He remembered biking to the nearest gas station and buying a bag of nuts so he could get enough cash back to fund his trip.

He remembered the terror of the bus ride. The freedom. The hope.

He remembered New York, a blurred haze of uncaring crowds and dirty sidewalks. He’d been one face among millions, impossible to notice, impossible to find. The sudden release from his life - from what it meant to be Adam - had completely overwhelmed him, and he’d spent most of the first day squatting in a back alley next to a dumpster, struggling to breathe through his decision. The second day he’d managed to find his way to the library and began the process of figuring out how to live on his own at fourteen without his father finding him. The third day, someone far more desperate than him had stolen everything he had while he slept in a park, including Dad’s very traceable credit card. The forth day, the police picked him up and dropped him into Officer Soltero’s sympathetic but useless hands.

OCTOBER: Welcome to Aglionby (unpublished)

Now it was Adam’s turn to look pained. “I don’t care to hear his tragic backstory.”

“I think it’s related to the ley line,” Gansey said. “Ley lines.”

Adam paused. “You didn’t know, did you. That there were two.” Gansey shook his head, his perfect lips pulling into a frown. “Ronan did.”

“I know. Ronan seems to know quite a bit more than he ever let on.”

“Why didn’t he tell you? Haven’t you been poking around here for a while with him?”

“Years,” Gansey whispered, his eyes somewhere far away from here, surrounded by memories that Adam couldn’t reach, emotions that he couldn’t fully see. “But I’m sure he had his reasons.”

Adam couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be searching for something for years, only to find out that your best friend and partner in magic had held the vital clue all along. Ronan had been by Gansey’s side for every step of the way, as far as Adam could tell, and he’d still chosen not to mention his obvious connection with magic, with the lines. He’d chosen to keep Gansey searching in the dark while he’d held the light. Adam couldn’t imagine the anger he would have felt. Or, he could, which was why Gansey’s utter lack of animosity was both perplexing and alarming. Adam didn’t trust silence. Stillness. Not when there was reason for it to break.

“I’m sure he didn’t,” he said instead.

“No offense, Adam, but you don’t know him very well.”

“No,” he agreed. “And I don’t care to.”

NOVEMBER: Carry On Rewrite (unpublished)

If I don’t kill Baz, he will kill me.

I’ve always known this. It’s been the foundational fact of our relationship, the thing that’s driven us to become mortal enemies for the past seven years. It’s why he and his family have tried to kill me so many times. It’s why I hate him.

It’s easier to kill someone you hate, especially if that someone is trying to kill you.

I shift my sword into a two-handed grip.

If I don’t kill Baz, he will kill me.

He lunges for me, bloodied hands reaching for my face, fangs reaching for my neck, eyes swirling with a desperate, wild hunger that will only be sated by my blood, my death.

I don’t think I hate Baz.

I don’t think I want to kill him, either.

I don’t think I ever have.

I drop my sword, feeling it vanish - and with it, any real chance of killing the bloodthirsty vampire in front of me. Feral, ruthless, deadly. Broken, starving, terrified.

I’d rather save him than hurt him.

I hope I haven’t made a mistake.

DECEMBER: TRC Rewrite (unpublished)

Noah drew close to the girl for the first time in seven years.

It’s starting.

She sat on a crumbling stone wall, tapping her pen against the notebook open in her lap, diligently scribbling names down as the woman called them out. Later, her family would contact their customers if their names appeared, giving them time to get their affairs in order. It was a macabre job, but Noah didn’t mind. Death came for them all, and perhaps it was best to be prepared.

He drew even closer, leaning over to read the names scrawled into the book. He wondered if his own name was there, pages and pages back, or if his spirt had failed to walk the line all those years ago. He was stuck, after all. The normal rules didn’t seem to apply to him.

Her hand jingled pleasantly as it slid across the page, the multitude of bracelets tinkling like bells in the night. He looked up into her face as she frowned down at the page, a mixture of frustration and wonder woven into the slant of her lips, begging to be wiped away with a quick joke or a quicker kiss. Her hair was pulled into a dozen pigtails with a dozen mismatched hair clips, the variety of spikes making her look like a hedgehog. Noah fondly brushed his fingers against it, smiling at the way the tight, prickly curls tickled his palm. He had always enjoyed this, even if this was the first time he’d done it.

#i need a writing tag #WtA #ICYH

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two-of-swords-621 · 6 years

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Dream Things

This is my @trc-exchange gift for @quietrook for the prompt “other Gangsey members spending time with Opal”. I hope you like it! it was fun to write. Enjoy!

AO3

Today was the day: the start of the #GreatAmericanRoadTrip extravaganza. It was warm and sunny and the day felt endless. Except the day wasn’t really endless and it was already well after noon and they hadn’t left yet. They were way behind schedule and Blue Sargent couldn’t deal. Henry was surprised she was the one who was worked up about it and not Gansey, but Gansey had been different since, well, you know. He just couldn’t be bothered to let most things bother him anymore.

They were gathered at the curb in front of 300 Fox Way, loading their bags into the Green Pig. “Ganseeeeyyyy,” Blue whined, digging through a massive duffle that she could have easily fit inside. “Where are my blah blah blah…” Henry couldn’t make out the rest of what she said, since she had now climbed into the trunk in pursuit of the missing object. He looked at Gansey, who shrugged.

“Jane, I can’t understand you when you’re half buried in the trunk like that,” Gansey said.

Blue jumped out and glared at him. “My purple leggings. I can’t find them.”

Gansey laughed, which only infuriated Blue more.

“Jesus, Sargent, there are like fifty pairs of leggings in here. How do you even know a pair is missing?” Ronan asked, leaning over the trunk to poke through the bag.

Blue smacked his hand. Hard, too, by the sound of it. “Trust me. I know.”

“Ow,” Ronan whimpered. He held his wounded hand out to Adam, who rolled his eyes playfully, before grabbing it and kissing it gently.

Henry was unaffected by the public display of affection, but Blue teased, “God, you two are disgusting.”

“Disgustingly beautiful,” Gansey gushed.

“I can’t wait for you to leave,” Ronan retorted.

“Oh shut up, Lynch. You know you’re going to be blowing kisses at us as we drive off into the sunset.”

“SUNSET?!?!” Blue cried, as Ronan said, “That was one fucking time, man.”

“Well, there was another…” Adam started to say, but Ronan quickly covered his mouth with his hand, which Adam promptly licked.

“Stop trying to ruin my reputation, Parrish,” Ronan said, wiping his hand off on Adam’s sleeve.

“Too late for that, Lynch,” Henry added.

Blue grabbed Gansey’s arm and twisted it so she could look at his watch. “Oh my God, we were supposed to be long gone by now,” she said, exasperated, pulling at some of the shorter tufts of her hair, making them stand on end. Henry thought she looked adorable when she was stressed.

She ticked off her mental to-do list on her fingers. “I still need to pack the snacks in the kitchen, and then Jimi wants to smudge the car before we go and I have to find my leggings. Urgh.”

“Smudge the car?” Henry asked.

“You know, clear the bad energy.”

“Hey! That car has great energy,” Ronan protested. They all looked at him funny. “Whatever,” he waved them off.

“Jane, relax. We have all the time in the world,” Gansey said, attempting to gather her in his arms.

She pushed him away. “Not if we want to make it to the Smoky Mountains and set up camp before it gets dark.”

“Ok, let’s figure this out then. You go look for your leggings,” Gansey told Blue. “I’ll go get Jimi. Adam can help her clear the car’s energy. Henry can pack the snacks. You,” he gestured to Ronan, “should probably go find Opal. I haven’t seen her in awhile.”

“Shit,” Ronan said, taking off for the backyard.

Henry was glad to see Gansey take the lead. It felt natural and right. He thought Gansey looked adorable when he was telling people what to do.

Henry headed towards the house, expecting the others to follow, but when he looked back, Adam was directing Blue and Gansey on how to rearrange the bags in the overstuffed trunk. Knowing Adam, it was probably so the bad energy could escape more easily during the smudging, or something.

And Henry did know Adam now. Just like he knew Gansey and Blue and Ronan. They were his friends. No, they were more than that now. They were his family. He smiled at them and then turned back to the house.

Inside, he found Maura and Calla in the reading room, bent over a spread of tarot cards.

“What’s the good word?” He asked, stopping in the doorway.

They both looked up at him. Maura frowned. Calla smirked. “I just can’t see any reason why you shouldn’t go,” Maura sighed.

“Told you,” Calla said.

“That should make you happy, right?” Henry asked Maura. “And yet, you are sad.”

“She’ll get over it,” Calla answered for Maura. “The chick’s gotta leave the nest at some point.”

“I think Blue would take offense to being called a chick,” Henry pointed out.

“Blue takes offense to everything these days,” Calla said.

This made Henry laugh for longer than it should have. Finally, he asked, “I’m supposed to pack the snacks?”

“Oh, I set everything out on the table in the kitchen. It’s all ready to go,” Maura instructed, still shifting around some cards.

“Thanks,” Henry said. “I’ll bring them out to the car then.” He followed the hallway the rest of the way to the kitchen, dodging a cat that tried to weave between his legs. He spotted the reusable tote bags and small cooler on the kitchen table and was about to grab them when he heard a rustling sound coming from under the table. He peered below and saw Lynch’s dream child struggling to open a bag of Tootsie Pops.

“Hey, Opal,” Henry said, crouching down. “Ronan is looking for you.”

She didn’t say anything, but she dropped the Tootsie Pops and held out her finger for Henry to inspect. He could see that she had a thin cut on the grubby pad of her index finger.

“What did you do? Get a paper cut?”

She mumbled something in Latin, maybe, while still holding her finger out to Henry.

“No, I’m not one of your dads. I can’t understand you. Can you say it in English?”

Opal shrugged and kissed her own wound lightly before picking up the bag of candy again.

Understanding dawned on Henry. This was something Ronan and Adam must do for her when she gets hurt. Which means it was likely something Ronan’s mother used to do for him. Which explains why Ronan held out his own hand to Adam earlier. It was the world’s most precious inside joke. Henry thought he might die from too much cute. Ronan Lynch thought he was such a badass punk. I’ve got your number, Henry thought with a smile.

“You want one of those?” Henry asked, pointing to the Tootsie Pops. Opal nodded and handed him the bag. Her refusal to use words to communicate in that moment was all too familiar to Henry. He had struggled with words too when he was younger. Was she young though? Henry wasn’t sure. She looked like a child, but that didn’t necessarily mean that she had a child’s brain. Did she even have a brain? Henry shook off the thoughts. There were too many possibilities to consider and he didn’t think even Ronan fully understood what she truly was. Right now, she was a kid who had a craving for sugar. That was easy enough to understand.

Henry tore open the bag and handed Opal a Tootsie Pop without thinking. She shoved the whole thing in her mouth, stick, wrapper and all, crunching loudly until it was gone a couple of seconds later. All he could do was gawk at her stupidly. She held out her hand for another. Henry unwrapped this one for her and told her not to eat the stick, but she did it anyway. It was only after the third one, that he thought this might be a bad idea. Would she get high off the sugar and then crash dramatically like his little sister used to? Lynch would have to deal with it later and Henry would be miles away by then. He grinned evilly and gave her a couple more suckers.

Henry stood up and put the remaining candy in one of the tote bags with the other food. Through the open window, he could hear Ronan outside calling for Opal. He looked back down at her under the table and she stared back at him with her big, black eyes. Henry had a thought. If a dream object had helped him communicate, maybe something similar could help her as well. He held out his hand to her and she let him pull her up from beneath the table. Her hooves slipped clumsily on the slick floor of the Fox Way kitchen at first, but she got her bearings and steadied herself.

“I want to show you something, Opal,” Henry said. He reached into his pocket and clutched RoboBee in his hand. He sat down on one of the mismatched chairs so he could be at her level and opened his palm. He briefly worried that she might try to eat RoboBee too, but she just stared at it in wonder. Maybe dream things recognized other dream things - like they had a special kind of kinship with each other. Then he had the absurd thought that Opal was RoboBee’s niece if that was true. Now he was just making it weird.

“What is it?” Opal asked.

“I speak multiple languages too, just like you. Sometimes my brain has a hard time translating my thoughts into words. RoboBee helps me communicate by turning my thoughts into actions,” Henry explained. Opal watched in amazement as RoboBee stirred to life, wings whirring, and lifted off Henry’s palm, hovering between them. She tentatively reached out with her paper cut finger and RoboBee landed gently on it. She squealed with delight, which turned into hysterical laughter. There’s the sugar, Henry thought, but her laughter was so pure that he couldn’t help but laugh along with her. If it weren’t for the hooves and magic, he would record a video of it and post it on YouTube. It would go viral for sure.

“What languages do you speak?” Opal asked when she finally settled down.

“Korean, Cantonese and English,” Henry said. He hadn’t taken Latin at Aglionby like the nerds outside. He considered himself lucky though since Aglionby only seemed to hire murderers to teach Latin.

“I don’t speak any of those, except for English sometimes,” Opal explained.

“I know,” Henry said. RoboBee lifted off her finger and rose high into the air. She looked up with longing, but didn’t ask to keep RoboBee or throw a tantrum like a normal child might.

“Maybe Ronan can make one for you, like his dad made this one for me.”

Her face scrunched up like she was thinking hard about it. “I don’t think it would work for me.”

“Why not?”

“You’re the only one,” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight.

Henry choked up a little. He couldn’t help it. It was overwhelming at times to feel so known, so accepted, by all of them. Even by Opal. He composed himself quickly and stood up. “We should go outside. I have to take these bags to the car.”

“I will help you,” Opal insisted. He gave her the lightest bag and it was still too big for her, but she was stubborn, so he let her struggle with it. She reminded him a bit of Blue in that moment. They made their way outside into the bright summer sunshine with RoboBee trailing behind them.

“Don’t tell Ronan how much candy I let you have, ok?” Henry said, as an afterthought when they reached the car. Adam watched as Jimi finished up the smudging, but the others were missing in action.

“Okay,” Opal agreed, handing her bag to Adam.

“What did you do?” Adam asked, warily.

“Nothing,” Opal and Henry said in unison. Henry gave her a thumbs up.

She beamed at him, but then the look on her face quickly turned to one of horror as she pointed and shrieked, “Kerah!”

Jimi screamed and clutched her chest. “Heavens, child,” she said, fanning herself.

Adam had just enough time to snatch RoboBee out of the air before Chainsaw dove for it, beak and talons bared. She wheeled in mid air before regaining her balance and landing gracefully on Adam’s shoulder. She hobbled down Adam’s arm and pecked at his hand, knowing that he held what she wanted in his closed fist.

“Holy shit,” Henry said, breathing a sigh of relief as they carefully exchanged the endangered cargo between their hands, so Chainsaw couldn’t see. So much for that idea about kinship among dream things. “Nice reflexes, Parrish. I forgot about the other niece.”

“The other niece?” Adam asked, confused.

“Oh, nothing, forget it,” Henry said, waving him off as he stowed RoboBee safely away in his pocket.

Adam laughed. “You should have known better than to let it loose like that around her.” Chainsaw glared at Henry from her perch on Adam’s shoulder.

“Devil bird,” Henry said, glaring right back.

“There you are, brats,” Ronan called, as he walked across the front lawn. “What was she shrieking about?”

“Chainsaw almost ate RoboBee,” Adam explained.

“What a tragedy,” Ronan said. “The world could have used one less creepy spy bot observing our every move.”

“Hey, don’t reduce my very specific magical ability to one of your anti-government conspiracy theories, Lynch,” Henry retorted. Adam snorted with laughter.

“I’m going to miss you, Cheng,” Ronan said, an evil grin spreading across his face, as Opal ran circles around him. “Jesus Christ, what has gotten into you?” he asked her.

Payback, Henry thought. “She may have had some of the candy we packed. I tried to stop her.”

“Liar!” Opal cried.

“I’m sure you tried really hard.”

“That’s the beauty of being the uncle. I let her do what she wants then I give her back to you to deal with the consequences,” Henry said.

“Speaking of consequences, there are going to be severe ones if we don’t get on the road now,” Blue demanded, strolling up to the car from the house, clutching a pair of purple leggings in her hand. Gansey was close behind, along with the rest of the Fox Way contingent.

The remaining bags were loaded into the car and group pictures were taken for Henry’s Instagram account. Fists were bumped and hugs dispersed. Henry settled in the back seat for the first leg of their journey, while Blue curled up in the front and Gansey slid behind the wheel. He started the Camaro and the loud rumbling of the non-existent engine fueled their growing excitement. As Gansey pulled away from the curb, Henry turned to look out the rear window just in time to see Ronan blowing them a kiss. Gansey and Blue must have seen it in the mirrors too, because they turned and looked at each other and laughed. They rolled down their windows and stuck their arms out into the warm summer air, waving and whooping with glee, while Henry pounded on the ceiling. It was finally starting. This was going to be a great trip.

#trcexchange2017 #henry cheng #opal #the raven cycle #trc #the gangsey #pynch #bluesey #sarchengsey #adam parrish #ronan lynch #blue sargent #richard campbell gansey iii

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adamprrishcycle · 7 years

Text

Part 3 (kind of) regarding the demon au… I say kind of but it definitely follows on from this post. It’s pynch basically but there’s rovinsky undertones. This is just Ronan with a lot of inner turmoil. Sorry in advance. p.s. here’s the other demon au post

On Friday morning the sun rose like a peach on the horizon, expanding up into the cool blue of the sky until sunlight was everywhere. Ronan was the first person to feel the warmth across his face as he sat up on the porch roof at the Barns and for a moment, everything felt okay.

For a week now, he hadn’t been able to sleep. It wasn’t unusual, but it was deliberate, the way it had been after he found his father’s dead body on the driveway one morning in April six years ago. He was warding off nightmares. The only difference was this time the nightmare wasn’t just in his head.

He checked his watch. He hadn’t slept in 32 hours.

He watched the sunrise until it made his eyes water, and then he climbed down off the roof and went inside.

The house was a mess that he couldn’t face, but he managed to dig out his phone from underneath the couch cushion where he’d left it. He had six messages and a missed call.

The first five messages were from Gansey:

Hey, you still coming on friday?

Get here for 4pm and we can grab dinner before the game. Somewhere nice? Your pick :)

I need to know if you’re coming or not, Ronan

Don’t make me drive all the way down there to get an answer from you

Pick up your phone

The last message was from Declan:

You mad at Gansey or something? He says you’re not answering him. How’s things? Matthew says he saw you last week. We should all get together sometime soon.

Ronan sighed and decided he’d deal with it after he’d showered, he might feel more human then. He shoved the phone back under the cushion and went upstairs.

He averted his eyes from the mirror as he entered the bathroom, even though it was covered by a thick patchwork blanket. He’d covered all the mirrors in the house after dreaming that every time he saw his reflection, Joseph Kavinsky was standing right behind him. What scared him most now was that he had no idea where Kavinsky was. He’d threatened revenge on the whole world, then let Ronan drive away and he hadn’t seen him since. Ronan had doubted his sanity. Ronan hadn’t left the house in a week.

He showered with the curtain open, uncaring when water splashed onto the floor, making the tiles slippery. When he got out, he dried off and got dressed in the same pair of jeans he’d been wearing for a fortnight.

Back in his bedroom, his bed looked inviting, but he quickly pulled a clean shirt on and went back downstairs.

He retrieved his phone and sat down on the couch heavily. He opened his conversation with Gansey and scrolled up and up and up, then back down again. He stared at the blue bubbles filled with Gansey’s words, then he began to tap out a reply. It was a simple question, one that had been on his mind since Saturday.

Is adam still going?

He saw that Gansey started typing back almost instantly. Of course he was up as well.

Yeah he is. Why are you so bothered about this? You have to talk to him sooner or later

I choose later

So you’re not coming?

Ronan didn’t hesitate before replying.

I’ll be there at 4 and we’re eating at that overpriced steakhouse on 5th and you’re paying. Adam can pay for himself though since he’s a stuck up prick

He threw his phone onto the coffee table without waiting for Gansey’s reply and it slid across the surface and fell onto the floor.

He wondered whether Gansey would believe him if he told him about Kavinsky. Probably not. He was beginning to think that he had in fact hallucinated the whole thing. Kavinsky was dead. He couldn’t come back. Ronan knew for a fact that magic was real and that on ley lines, insane amounts of power could make insane things happen. Not enough power to bring someone back from the dead after three years though. Surely no one would want to bring Kavinsky back from the dead. His stomach gave a sharp tug at that. Kavinsky should never have died in the first place.

Ronan woke with a start, his neck aching from being propped up awkwardly against the arm of the couch. He jolted upright, his head still cloudy with sleep. He’d fallen asleep. He lifted his arm to check the time, it had just gone 3pm.

He was going to be late.

He slid off the couch, reaching for his phone under the coffee table and then he grabbed his jacket, his keys and his wallet from by the door before leaving the house.

What remained outside were the leftovers of a mild spring day and when Ronan climbed into the BMW, he threw his jacket onto the passenger seat and rolled the window down as he started the engine.

He considered texting Gansey to let him know he was running late, but then decided that arriving fashionably late without explanation would be more amusing. He needed some sort of amusement.

As he drove, he tried not to think about Kavinsky sitting where he sat, his hands resting on the steering wheel, his face alight despite the shadows beneath them.

He’s dead, he thought suddenly, aggressively. He was losing his mind if he thought he’d actually seen him and spoken to him and sat in the passenger seat while he drove his fucking car. But it had felt so real.

After his father’s death he’d attended some therapy sessions. He skipped most of them, but the ones he did go to left him feeling irritable and angry. He couldn’t give anyone reason to send him there again. Not Gansey, or Adam or Declan.

He circled the campus four times before he found a place to leave his car after deciding quickly that he didn’t want to park in the multistory again. He half jogged to Gansey’s place, but took his time up the path to the house so it wouldn’t look like he was in a rush now that he was half an hour late.

He knocked and mentally prepared himself for one of Gansey’s douche-y friends to open the door, but the reality was much worse.

“Hi,” Adam said without offering a smile, “hit traffic?”

Ronan tried not to stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed and quickly pulled himself together just enough to answer: “yeah, nightmare.”

Adam was wearing dark jeans and a brown leather jacket and his hair was the same as it had always been since Ronan had met him five years ago; a mess.

“Ronan!” Came Gansey’s voice suddenly and Adam stepped aside. His cheeks were pink and he was fastening a watch onto his wrist as he came down the stairs.

“Dick,” Ronan said in acknowledgment, trying to block Adam from his peripheral vision. It didn’t work.

“You’re late,” Gansey said, obviously flustered, “and Adam was early so that makes you even later.”

“Showing me up, Parrish,” Ronan said, glancing at him. He quickly regretted it though because Adam still wasn’t smiling.

Gansey pretended to ignore the awkward atmosphere and shooed them both out of the door before shouting goodbye to someone and locking up behind him.

They walked to the restaurant that Ronan had picked with Gansey in the middle who kept up a constant stream of conversation with Adam, but it took until they arrived and were sat in the window with drinks for it to dawn on Ronan that he’d actually missed hanging out with them like this.

Adam was smiling down at the draught beer Gansey had insisted they all order and Ronan knew he was in trouble. They were both talking to Gansey rather than to each other, but it felt like they were interacting and it felt good. It made a part of Ronan’s overactive and anxious brain go calm for a minute and he knew he’d grow completely attached all over again by the time the evening was over. This was a relapse, no matter what it looked like and Gansey, the self-righteous snake, was probably enjoying every second of it.

“So, how’s Henrietta?” Adam asked suddenly, his eyes turning to Ronan and staying there for the first time. It was strange to be addressed by him directly, even though Ronan had once spent nights under his constant and unwavering attention.

Ronan shrugged now, thinking of ways to lie while telling the truth. “Same as always,” he managed.

“And you?” Adam continued, “how are you?”

Ronan’s mouth was dry from the sudden focus of Adam’s eyes and he quickly took a sip of his drink, giving himself an excuse not to talk as he shrugged again and nodded.

Adam’s eyes skimmed over him and back to Gansey, clearly pissed off and Ronan wanted to apologise, but he didn’t.

“Speaking of Henrietta,” Gansey said with a smile, “this guy in one of my classes just got a new car. Guess what kind it is.”

“Go on,” Adam said.

Gansey glanced at Ronan, then back at Adam. “It’s a Mitsubishi Evolution. Ghost white with an engine that sounds like it’s perpetually fighting for it’s life. Ring any bells?”

“Oh, God,” Adam said with a laugh, shaking his head. “God, it’s been years since I’ve thought about Kavinsky.”

“I know,” Gansey agreed, “when Darren pulled up in it, I genuinely expected him to get out of it.”

Gansey looked at Ronan for his reaction and his smile faltered slightly. “Shit,” he said in a low voice, “sorry, Ronan, I wasn’t thinking.”

“What?” Ronan asked, irritated. “What are you apologising to me for?” He looked at Adam who was staring back at him and he knew they were both thinking about the same conversation they’d had over a year ago. Adam had asked what Ronan’s deal had been with Kavinsky. As always, Ronan got defensive and it quickly escalated into one of the worst arguments they’d ever had.

“Well, he was your friend,” Gansey said, cutting through Ronan’s thoughts in a way that insinuated it was what he felt he had to say, rather than what he wanted to say.

Ronan stared at him long enough to make him sweat a little before saying bluntly, “He wasn’t my friend.”

“Okay, fine,” Gansey said quickly, “that’s fine. I just didn’t want to- hey, it doesn’t matter, let’s talk about something else.”

He and Adam jumped straight into conversation again with ease, but Ronan’s thoughts were left behind, dragging their heels.

Part of him wanted to confide in them, while the other part screamed at him not to and he was much more familiar with fear and shame than sharing his feelings. He finished his beer quickly and went to the bar to get another round.

When the food came, he could barely stomach it. He’d been starving in the car all the way here, but now he didn’t feel like eating anything and Gansey kept giving him this look and he could feel his irritation growing with each passing second. He didn’t know if he could stand a basketball game afterwards. He didn’t even like basketball.

When they were done, Gansey paid for Ronan, and Adam paid for himself and they walked back to Gansey’s place to pick up his car. The pig, Gansey’s orange Camaro, was usually a comforting sight, but tonight all Ronan could think about was the reality of it. It was a dream object after all. He’d smashed the original car to pieces racing it and afterwards, he’d let Kavinsky take him to the Fairground where he’d given him pills to help him dream and taught him to be a thief from the backseat of his Mitsubishi.

The Camaro that stood before them today, the one that Adam and Gansey were climbing into before Ronan’s eyes, was a witness to what had happened that weekend. It knew that Ronan hadn’t been half as fucked up as he pretended to be.

He got in the passenger seat without saying a word and he tried to ignore the way Adam leaned between the seats, his knuckles brushing against his arm every now and then. Despite everything going on in Ronan’s head, he still wanted Adam badly. He knew that however casual the hand bumping against his arm seemed, Adam never did anything if it wasn’t deliberate. Ronan shifted in his seat so that he couldn’t reach him and stayed like that until they reached the indoor stadium just off campus.

The place was packed and they had to stop at least twelve times on the way in for Gansey to say hello to every single person he knew, and he knew everyone.

Once they found their seats, Ronan decided to go and get another drink and before he could disappear back into the stream of people slowly filling the place up, Adam offered to come with him. They fought their way against the tide of people to get back downstairs and Ronan’s stomach sunk when he saw the size of the queue.

“Fuck,” he muttered as they came to a halt at the back of the line.

“Huh?” Adam said, only half paying attention as he peered around over people’s heads.

“I said fuck,” Ronan repeated, louder so Adam couldn’t miss it and he turned to look at him.

“What’s your problem, Ronan?” He asked, frowning as he searched his face. “What did I do?”

“Do we have to do this now?” Ronan said in a low voice but he couldn’t meet Adam’s eye.

“Yeah, we do actually because if we don’t do it now, you’ll disappear again and go back to avoiding me,” Adam replied.

“What do you want me to say?” Ronan asked and they moved as the queue shuffled forwards.

“I just want an explanation. If you don’t wanna be with me, that’s fine. But tell me why.”

He had to look at him then to make sure he was being serious. He couldn’t imagine any universe out there where he didn’t want to be with Adam Parrish and yet here they were in this one where Adam was questioning it.

He knew he was being unfair and he knew he was sending mixed messages, but he tried to focus on why.

“It’s because I care about you,” he said, though it didn’t cover his reasoning by half.

Adam raised his eyebrows. “Disappearing and not returning my calls or my texts doesn’t sound like you care to me.”

“You don’t get it,” Ronan said, shaking his head, “there’s different pieces of your life. There’s your college life and there’s your Henrietta life and your college life is just more important than-”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me,” Adam interrupted and he sounded genuinely hurt, “you of all people.”

“No,” Ronan said quickly, “that’s not what I meant. It’s not- listen, I’m not explaining myself properly and it’s so fucking loud in here-”

Adam grabbed his arm then, cutting him off and led him through the crowd and back outside the way they’d come in. He let him go once they were out of earshot of the people smoking by the door.

“Explain yourself, then,” he demanded.

The wind had picked up now that night had fallen and Ronan wished he hadn’t left his jacket in the car as he stood on the verge of shivering, but the heat of Adam’s stare was just enough to keep him from it.

“I want you to be able to focus on school because I know how much all this means to you,“ he said simply and Adam didn’t speak so he carried on, “I’m too selfish for you. I wanted too much of your time so I decided that it would be better if I just took away the option.”

Adam was frowning again. “So what you’re saying is, you broke up with me for me?”

Ronan shrugged. “I guess kind of.”

Adam’s chin dropped to his chest and it took a moment for Ronan to realise he was laughing. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,”

“I’m glad someone finds it funny,” Ronan replied sarcastically.

“What, you don’t think it sounds stupid now you’ve said it out loud?” Adam asked.

“No, I don’t.”

Adam stopped smiling then. “Well I don’t think you have any right to make decisions like that for me,” he said.

“We argue a lot too,” Ronan added as if he hadn’t spoken.

“We argue about stupid things,” Adam said and his face softened again, “like me telling you to do your homework at Aglionby or like you breaking up with me because you think I need to concentrate more on mine.”

Ronan could feel himself caving fast and Adam took a step closer.

“I want to be with you,” he said, “Yeah, college is important, but it’s not everything and I like you.” He was smirking and it was one of the best things Ronan had ever seen but when he got close enough and leaned in to kiss him, Ronan stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Adam’s face fell. “What is it?”

“I’m just- I don’t think I’m in the right place to do this… at the moment.” He wanted to take it back as soon as it left his tongue.

“Why?” Adam asked and Ronan wondered how to say I see dead people without sounding like he’d lost his mind.

“I’ve been having nightmares again,” he said finally, it wasn’t a lie, “and my insomnia has just been, you know, it’s making me crazy.”

“You don’t need to shut me out when it gets like this,” Adam said, but he took a step back and Ronan was grateful. “I get it though.”

“Thanks,” Ronan said weakly.

Adam took a deep, audible breath. “Shall we go back in, then? Gansey’s probably worrying about us and the game’ll he starting any minute.”

“Yeah,” Ronan agreed, “yeah, you go ahead. I just need five minutes.”

Adam looked at him seriously. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” Ronan assured him and he walked over to a low wall nearby. “I’m just gonna sit here.”

After Adam went back inside, Ronan’s mind buzzed and jolted with a thousand thoughts and feelings that all concluded in his chest, making it ache and he sat down heavily on the cold brick of the wall.

The last smoker went back inside and he watched them disappear and heard the door slam shut behind them. There should have been quiet then, but there was suddenly another sound that made every hair on Ronan’s body stand on end as a prickle of unease crawled up his spine. Someone was approaching down the grass bank behind him and he got to his feet and spun around, already knowing what he’d find.

“You and Parrish are really giving me a hard-on,” Kavinsky said. He sat down where Ronan had just been sitting and he smirked up at him. He still looked satisfyingly awful.

“What are you doing here?” Ronan asked, sounding more confident than he felt.

“Same as you,” Kavinsky said and be motioned towards the stadium, “oh wait, what are you doing here again? I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks to me like Parrish was trying to get in your panties and you shot him down because you’re too busy having wet dreams about me.”

“What the hell do you want?” Ronan demanded, ignoring him. “You tell me you want revenge on the whole world, then you show up here like my own personal poltergeist?”

“I just missed you, I guess,” Kavinsky said and his smile was sharp. There was something so unnervingly off about him that Ronan couldn’t put his finger on. “You told anyone about me?” He added.

“No,” Ronan said bluntly.

“You gonna go inside and watch the game then, or what?”

“Yeah.”

Kavinsky stared at him as he stood there unmoving. “Well?”

But Ronan’s legs wouldn’t allow him to walk away, not yet anyway. He felt glued to the spot as the pressure built up inside him. It was the guilt that had been eating him alive recently, alongside the fear.

“You know, if you need help,” he said, “I can try and find some for you.”

Kavinsky stared at him coldly, then his smirk reappeared. “You want to help me?”

Ronan exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re obviously not supposed to be here. You need to find rest.”

“Find rest? What the fuck, man?” Kavinsky demanded, but it was clear he was finding it amusing. “You think I deserve the all clear? I think you’re forgetting that I almost got your little brother blown up.”

Ronan’s stomach twisted. “Tell me why and how you got here and I’ll forgive you.”

Something flashed across Kavinsky’s face and then it was gone again. “I don’t need forgiveness.”

“I’m not stupid, you know,” Ronan said, “I haven’t just forgotten everything you said to me the night you died and I haven’t forgotten that weekend at the Fairground.”

Kavinsky definitely wasn’t smiling now. “You think I want your forgiveness because you’re some guy I wanted to fuck in high school?”

Ronan suppressed a flinch at the confession, even if it wasn’t all there. “We both know it was more than that, man,” he said, attempting to be delicate.

“You’re really not all that,” Kavinsky said and he got to his feet. “You don’t know anything about me, especially not now. You have no idea who I am and what I’m capable of.”

Ronan refused to be intimidated and held his ground. He could handle Kavinsky, he’d always been able to handle him. His thought processes and logic were often simple and single-minded.

“I’m not scared of you,” Ronan said, it was only partly true. “You’re just here to mess with me.”

A little smile crept over Kavinsky’s face. “And you’re secretly enjoying it. You miss me, Lynch, admit it.”

“I wish you were still alive sometimes,” Ronan said, shocked at his own honesty, “not for me though, for you, because I know things could’ve been different. No ones supposed to die at seventeen.”

“Why didn’t you save me, then?” Kavinsky asked and Ronan frowned and found his eyes on Kavinsky’s hands.

“You couldn’t be saved, because you wouldn’t let anyone in,” Ronan replied with a shrug, “you wanted me, but you didn’t want me close enough that I started to care. There was nothing I could have done.”

“Ronan!” Someone called from far off in the distance. Ronan blinked and turned to see Gansey walking over to him. He turned back to Kavinsky in panic, but Kavinsky was gone.

“What are you doing out here?” Gansey asked, a little out of breath as he reached him.

Ronan stared towards the wall and the grass bank that was covered in shadow feeling oddly shaken and disorientated. “Nothing,” he said, “I just… I think I’m gonna head home. I don’t really like basketball.”

“What’s wrong?” Gansey asked and he glanced warily over at the wall. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just-” he turned back to face him, “the ley lines, are they powerful enough to bring someone back from the dead?“

Ronan realised his mistake as soon as it left his mouth and Gansey cleared his throat and smiled, “obviously.”

“Shit, yeah,” Ronan said, “but I mean… say someone has been dead a long time, can you bring them back?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking right now,” Gansey said, half amused, “you know I dedicated half my life to waking someone from the dead, right? But I guess it didn’t work exactly as planned, so maybe not, no. Why?”

“I’ve seen someone,” Ronan said.

“Someone who’s dead?” Gansey asked seriously and Ronan nodded.

“Who?”

“You’re gonna think I’ve lost it,” Ronan said and he tried to laugh.

“I won’t,” Gansey assured him.

“It happened first when I left your place last week and then again tonight, just now,” Ronan explained.

“Who was it?” Gansey asked. He sounded worried.

“Kavinsky,” Ronan said finally.

Gansey nodded his head as if that was completely normal but Ronan didn’t appreciate it. “Did you just see him or did you speak to him?”

“I spoke to him, both times,” Ronan answered.

“And what did he say?” Gansey probed.

Ronan shook his head. It felt too much like Gansey was trying to talk him down from some kind of manic episode, like he was trying to keep him talking about what had happened so he could better understand it.

“I don’t need you to believe me,” he snapped.

“I never said I didn’t,” Gansey replied evenly. “Just come and watch the game, it’ll distract you.”

“I’ve just told you I’ve stood here and spoken to Kavinsky who’s been dead for three years, and you want me to sit and watch basketball?” Ronan asked, incredulous.

“I just think it might help,” Gansey said which was enough to confirm that he didn’t believe him at all.

Ronan turned and walked away. Gansey called after him but he kept walking, confident in the fact that he wouldn’t follow him and ditch Adam.

He walked back to the campus and found his car, pulling his jacket on and turning up the heat when he got inside. He felt frozen to the core. He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel but he didn’t think he could face the Barns alone. He wasn’t usually scared of the dark, but he felt so uneasy and every cell in his body was on edge. He checked the backseat in the rearview mirror, then he looked at himself. He needed to shave and his eyes were rimmed in red and purple but he figured that that’s what you got for not looking in the mirror for a week.

He cut the engine again and got out, making his way back to Gansey’s place. He didn’t really want to be alone so he sat on the front step and waited for Gansey and Adam to come back. He didn’t have to wait long.

Gansey took them inside and Ronan sat at the breakfast bar and stared at his hands while they spoke in a low voices in the next room. He was reminded of a feeling he had after his father died when he was fifteen. Everybody wanted to talk about him, but not to him.

“Do you wanna stay here tonight?” Gansey asked and Ronan looked up to find him standing across from him. He hadn’t realised he was there. “Or Adam’s going back to his, you can go with him if you want?”

“Yeah, I’ll go with Parrish,” Ronan said and Gansey looked hurt for a split second, before it was covered by an encouraging smile.

“That okay?” Gansey asked over Ronan’s shoulder and he turned to find Adam in the doorway across the room.

“Yeah, course it is,” Adam answered.

“I don’t need babysitting,” Ronan said as he got to his feet, “I just don’t fancy going home tonight.” He didn’t see Adam and Gansey share a look as he left the room.

Adam had parked a few blocks away and they walked in awkward silence. Ronan couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t know how much Gansey had told him.

Adam’s little car was the same car Helen had given him when they were at Aglionby. Ronan used to tell him how embarrassed he was to be seen in it, but he didn’t care now and got in the passenger seat without a word. During the drive Adam asked Ronan if he was okay and Ronan apologised for ruining their evening but Adam assured him that he hadn’t. Ronan couldn’t stand liars.

To his relief, the little house that Adam shared was strangely comforting and no one was around so Ronan was able to get upstairs without having to talk to anyone. He hesitated in the hallway, unsure whether he should enter Adam’s room, but then Adam was behind him on the stairs and it seemed like enough of an invitation.

The room smelt distinctly of aftershave and Adam quickly crossed to the window to let some air in and then he cleared some books and a laptop off the bed.

“You can have my bed, I don’t mind, I usually fall asleep in the chair anyway,” Adam said, “it’s actually comfier than it looks.” He smiled and Ronan noticed that his cheeks were red.

“What are you on about?” Ronan asked, “your bed’s always been big enough for two.”

Adam stared at him. “You want me to- you wanna share the bed?”

Ronan raised his eyebrows as though Adam had been stupid to think otherwise. “Yeah, I do.”

Adam nodded and slipped his jacket off, hanging it on the back of the door and then he took three steps, closing the gap between himself and Ronan and he kissed him.

Ronan pulled away almost instantly, holding onto his arms to keep him still. He considered pushing him away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Fuck it,” he said and then he kissed him again and when he let go of Adam’s arms to instead touch the back of his neck and his hair, Adam’s hands moved and tugged his jacket from his shoulders. Ronan couldn’t get enough of his mouth and his touch and his warmth and he didn’t resist as Adam pushed him down onto the bed.

“Gansey told me,” Adam said between heavy kisses, his hands skating up and down Ronan’s body. “He told me what you saw.”

Ronan wrapped his arms around him, pulling him down on top of him and let his hands wander across the curve of his back and over his ass.

“Kavinsky,” Adam said, “he can’t have you.” He kissed his cheek, then his jaw, then his ear as he said, “he couldn’t back then and he sure as hell can’t now.”

“I don’t want him,” Ronan said breathlessly, turning his head to kiss Adam’s hair, “I never wanted him. But now he’s back and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Adam stopped kissing him then, raising himself up slightly so he could look him in the eye. “I knew something was wrong. There’s this pulse under the ground that seems to get faster and faster when bad things are happening and It’s pounding.”

“So you don’t think I’m just losing my mind?” Ronan asked.

Adam smiled down at him. “No, it’s bigger than that.”

“What do we do?” Ronan asked Adam’s lips, wishing he was kissing them rather than talking to them.

“I don’t know,” Adam said and he kissed Ronan’s bottom lip briefly, “but I know that we don’t have to do anything right now except this.”

Ronan grabbed the front of his shirt then and yanked him downwards, reaching up at the same time to meet his lips.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted and he could feel Adam’s smile. He hadn’t felt this whole in months and for the first night in a week, he let Adam’s heat melt Kavinsky from his mind completely.

#woah this is long #and it's pointless lmao #I'm not going anywhere with it really #but hey #it's an excuse for a bit of angst #you're welcome #pynch #rovinsky #ronan lynch #adam parrish #joseph kavinsky #kavinsky #gansey #trc #the raven cycle #suicide #demon au #fic

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emjenwrites · 5 years

Text

@ganseyweek Saturday, August 17: Wings/Crows/Seeking you out

Welcome to what might be one of the weirdest AUs in this fandom. I think this one might manage to actually stick to the prompt though, so that’s good.

Let the record show that it really frustrates me that we don’t know Mrs. Gansey’s first name.

Warnings: Blood, a lot of ignorant opinions about mental illness

The wings appeared three weeks after Richard Gansey III’s first death. Actually, that was not quite true. They probably started growing the moment he was resurrected, it just took them three weeks to first break the skin.

It was a very gruesome happening, worthy of a place in a horror movie. Gansey woke in the middle of the night in horrible pain. He got out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom attached to his room. When he pulled off his shirt he could see the outline of something dark beneath his skin. He only had time for a strangled gasp before huge, black wings ripped through the skin on his back, spraying blood all over him and the room.

When the first jet black feathers pushed through Gansey’s back slick with blood, Gansey almost screamed and ran for his parents. Three weeks before he probably would have, but in the weeks since his death things had changed. When he’d first come back to life and stumbled back to the party, skin still covered in welts from enough stings to kill someone who wasn’t allergic to hornets, Glendower was all he could talk about.

“A voice said that I was going to live because of Glendower,” he’d told his father over and over. “Who’s Glendower?”

“I don’t know, Dick,” Richard Gansey II had said, throwing a desperate pleading look over his shoulder to Gansey’s mother. Mrs. Gansey was in the middle of calling 911. Her voice was high with terror and her hands were shaking. That was the scariest thing about the whole situation. All other things aside, Mrs. Gansey was a politician as iron-spined as they came; Gansey had never seen her anything less than perfectly in control.

An ambulance rushed Gansey to the hospital, but there was nothing for the doctors to do. Richard Campbell Gansey III, ten years old and deathly allergic to all types of bees, had been stung hundreds of times and somehow he was still alive and mostly well. There was no explanation.

“It’s a miracle,” one of the nurses had told Gansey’s parents. “You should say prayers of thanks.” Mr. and Mrs. Gansey had just nodded; neither of them were particularly religious, though they went through the motions for the sake of Mrs. Gansey’s political career.

After all the tests there had been the therapist. Gansey had gone on an epic Googling spree while in the hospital so by this point he knew who Owen Glendower was--if reading his Wikipedia page could be calling knowing about him, something high-school aged Gansey would later doubt. He was more than happy to tell the therapist all about the voice and Glendower. “I need to find him,” he’d finished. “I need to ask him why he saved me.”

He’d expected the therapist to believe him, but instead the man had explained that when people almost died they sometimes saw things which weren’t actually there. “Glendower had nothing to do with what happened to you,” the therapist told Gansey in the sickly patronizing voice some people used on children. “It was just a hallucination. It wasn’t real.”

In much later--read as, college--years, when he finally did research on the diagnoses that therapist gave him, Gansey would know that the man had not been implying Gansey was crazy. The problem was that ten-year-old Gansey didn’t know that. He’d grown up around adults who talked about how mental illnesses were over-diagnosed, how mental healthcare was drugging up perfectly normal people instead of teaching them how to deal with their problems, and how ADHD had just been made up to medicialize elementary school kids who didn’t sit still in class. When one of Gansey’s sets of grandparents--Dick Gansey I and the grandmother he would later describe as “bald and racist”--found out Gansey was seeing a therapist they’d had an hour long argument with his parents. They thought he couldn’t hear, but he could and therefore knew that the argument contained gems like “I can’t believe you’re taking him to see a shrink like a lunatic! There’s nothing wrong with him!”

Suffice to say, at the age of ten, Gansey was convinced that the therapist was going to tell his parents that he was crazy and should be locked away. The wings only made it worse. No one believed him about Glendower so what if he told them about this and they didn’t believe him either? What if they couldn’t see the wings at all? Then they would know Gansey was crazy and that would be it.

No one could ever know about the wings, Gansey decided. He’d make sure no one found out and he’d make sure no one thought he’d be crazy. Then he’d be safe and everything would be okay.

At age ten Gansey had never kept a real secret from his parents. He had always been a good kid. The bookish sort of child who got described using words like “charming,” “precocious” and “gifted.” The less flattering descriptors, things like “eccentric,” “strange” and--on one memorable occasion which lead to Helen punching one of their great-uncles in the face-- “not all there” didn’t come along until he hit puberty. At the age of ten, Gansey was a perfect child, and perfect children did not hide things from their parents, but Gansey was going to do it anyway.

That night he scrubbed the bathroom from top to bottom with the cleaning supplies the maid kept under the sink until not a spot of blood remained. He got in the shower and washed the blood off himself too, using shampoo to clean the feathers of his new wings. He was briefly terrified that he would have to cut the wings off with a kitchen knife or something, but they folded neatly into his body in a way which shouldn’t have been possible, but made them invisible when he was wearing a shirt. When he and the room were clean, he bundled all the ruined clothes and towels and carpets up and snuck them out to the dumpster behind the house. That left the problem of how to replace all that stuff, but luckily Gansey knew where the housekeeper kept the key to the basement room where they kept spares of such things just for emergency. He knew that eventually someone would do inventory and realize things were missing, but hopefully that could be long after the garbage truck came and took the evidence away.

When everything was as back to normal as he could make it, he collapsed into his bed to snatch what minuscule amount of sleep he still could between the fast-approaching dawn and his nightmares. When he got up the next morning, he was tired but he lied and said that he had slept fine. When his mother asked how he was feeling he lied and said he was feeling good. When he went to the therapist, he lied and said that he’d realized the thing about Glendower was a hallucination, and lied and said anything else he thought might make the man happy. When he came home he kept lying. He lied and lied and lied, and got better and better at lying. He learned what he needed to say to keep people happy and not worrying about him, and he said them. He learned to be everything that he was supposed to be. He learned how to seem perfect again.

No one ever seemed to notice that it was all a lie.

~~~~

Monmouth Manufacturing was empty which meant it was time for a routine Gansey dreaded.

Actually, it could barely be called a routine because it happened so infrequently these days. There had been a time when Gansey had done this every night, but that had been a long time ago. Over the years, he’d begun to do it less and less. He’d always told himself it was because he was getting busier, or didn’t have the room, or because he had roommates who might see, but he knew it was really because he didn’t want to see them and he didn’t want to think about them.

The wings were still there, just as they had been since he was ten. Actually, they were bigger than they’d been before, having grown with him. Gansey had done a lot of reading on the subject and he knew that scientifically these wings were not anywhere near big enough to lift his weight, but they were also too big to fit as snuggly against his back as they did, so he was pretty sure the laws of physics didn’t apply to them.

Not that he would know, because he’d never tried to fly.

But that was not what the routine was for. The routine was necessary to make sure he was not discovered.

Gansey’s wingspan was too big for the bathroom in Monmouth, so when he needed to spread his wings he had to do it in the main room. However, he obviously had to make sure no one would walk in and see him when he did it, so he had to wait for those rare moments when no one was around and he knew they wouldn’t be back for some time. Today was one of those days. Ronan was out keeping Adam company at work, Blue was dog walking and Noah had already appeared today which with the way things were going meant he probably wouldn’t be back today. It was the perfect time.

Once Gansey was absolutely certain he was alone he made his way to his bed and stripped his polo shirt off. He knew that if he had a mirror, he’d be able to see the wings tucked impossibly tightly against his back. It had been years and he was still shocked that they were that easy to hide. The only way to make them really visible through clothes was to slouch, so Gansey simply didn’t slouch. As long as he did that and didn’t take his shirt off for anything, he was perfectly safe.

It had been weeks since the last time he had spread his wings and they’d long since gone numb from lack of motion. He started with the left one, opening it carefully mostly with his hands. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight of the extra appendage. When he’d first gotten them they’d been terrifying but beautiful and powerful. Now years of being closed firmly against his back for the vast majority of the time had ruined them. They were attrofied and dull-colored and over the last year or so most of the flight feathers had fallen out. They were hideous.

Logically, Gansey knew that keeping the wings closed all the time was not good for them and that if he’d just actually use them they would become stronger, the feathers would grow back and they’d be beautiful again, but he couldn’t. Even in a place as out of the way and special as Henrietta, a boy with raven wings would not go unnoticed. Recently he kept catching himself going back to the “cut the wings off with a bread knife” idea even though he knew he would bleed to death if he tried that.

He massaged the stiff joints of the wing until it loosened up enough for him to cautiously flap it. Back when he still had flight feathers, he had to be careful not to knock things over with the sheer force of the air displaced when he flapped, but that was much easier to avoid now. Several more feathers came loose and settled to the floor as he moved. He’d pick those up and throw them away when he was done, but now that Ronan had Chainsaw he didn’t have to be as careful because the other boy would just assume all random raven feathers were hers. The flight feathers were slightly more of a problem because they were so big, but there were so few of them left.

Once the wing was somewhat loosened up, he swung it forward and began checking the feathers, removing the dead ones and straightening the bent ones and making sure everything was as in order as possible. He hated the way they felt. He washed them as best he could whenever he showered, but they needed a thorough clean which was impossible in Monmouth’s tiny shower. A thorough clean would be difficult in his shower at his parents house these days. The feathers felt greasy and gross and sick.

Logically he knew things could not go on like this. He knew that things were only going to get worse if he didn’t make a change, but he didn’t. At this point, he reasoned, it didn’t matter anyway. He was going to be dead in a matter of months, probably before anything really horrible happened on this front.

When he moved on to the right wing, he found it in worse shape than the other. It was missing all the fight feathers accept for one damaged and twisted one. He tried to be as gentle with it as he could, but when he tried to straighten it out it came loose in his hand.

He stared down at the dead feather in his hand and suddenly and dramatically burst into tears. They were tears that had been building up slowly over the last few months as he grew closer and closer to the April 24th deadline for his second and real death, but they were also tears for the years of fear which had gotten him to this place. His wings should have been a joy, he would have loved to fly under his own power and he was sure he friends would have admired them in their healthy state, but it was too late. They were so ruined that the thought of showing them to anyone filled him with shame. He never wanted his friends to see the wings like this.

The worst part was that he knew that no matter what he did, they would see. Once he was dead he would not be able to keep any more secrets. His friends, and his parents and everyone else would know. He’d probably make at least the local news given how famous his mother was these days. Everyone would look at his body with it’s disgusting, atrophied wings and know was he really was: a ruined boy hiding behind a mask of normality. He hated it, but there was nothing to be done unless Ronan spontaneously dreamed something to keep someone from bleeding to death while they performed home amputation on their extra limbs. He was going to be found out.

His cell phone began to ring. Gansey lifted his head out of his comforter, unsure of how long he’d been lying face down on his bed crying. Embarrassed that he’d spent so long feeling sorry for himself when others had it far worse, Gansey snaked his arm across the bed and snatched up his phone. The Caller ID announced Blue’s name—Gansey had put the home phone at 300 Fox Way into his phone under her name. Gansey sat up and took a deep if slightly unsteady breath in an attempt to balance himself. His wings moved just a little and he folded them back into his body both so he didn’t have to see them out of the corners of his eyes and to feel more like the Gansey that Blue knew. When he felt he could wait no longer he answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Gansey,” Blue said from the other side. She sounded like she was having a good day. Gansey squashed the jealousy which rose up inside him. “Are you busy this afternoon?”

“No,” Gansey said. He wasn’t quite done checking over his wings but given that he’d just spent some unknown amount of time sobbing because he’d lost a flight feather, he figured now was as good a time as any to stop. “Why are you asking? Aren’t you supposed to be out walking dogs?”

“Mrs. Boyle says that the pavement is too hot for Muffins’ delicate paws,” Blue snorted. “The pavement’s not hot at all, but I’ll take any excuse not to have to walk the Demon Dog. Anyway, I finished early; do you want to hang out?”

In spite of everything Gansey’s heart leaped at the idea of spending more time with Blue. The pain and fear that surrounded the wings faded away. If Blue came over he’d be able to forget all about them for a couple hours. “Yes, I do,” he said, hopefully not so quickly that he seemed desperate. “Ronan’s hanging out with Adam at work so it will just be the two of us.”

“Alright,” Blue said. It was impossible to tell from her tone of voice if she was excited by the idea of spending time alone with Gansey. Gansey hoped she was excited by the idea of spending time alone with him. “I’ll be right over.”

“I look forward to seeing you,” Gansey said. When they hung up he sat in the middle of the bed for a minute before forcing himself up and reaching for his polo shirt.

He had to make sure there was no trace of feathers by the time Blue arrived.

#ganseyweek #the raven cycle #trc fanfic #richard gansey iii #mine #tw blood #tw ignorance #I have no idea how to tw tag this

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