parke and ronan

it’s never going to happen but please let the raven cycle series be filmed in parks & rec format. let ronan stare dead-eyed into the camera every time gansey starts talking. let blue go on 25 minute feminist rants that are cut in sporadically throughout the episode. let gansey ramble cheerfully to the camera about glendower until ronan inevitably yells at him to shut up. let the camera zoom in dramatically on adam’s face literally every time he speaks. we deserve this.

hey i recently unfollowed a lot of blogs bc my dash was clogged but now it’s too empty… so if you post any of the following could you rb this post & i’ll check your blog out! (+ i really want to make more mutuals)
- x files
- the raven cycle
- parks and rec - star wars
- stranger things
- anything paranormal related (ufology, cryptozoology, conspiracy theories)


I just stumbled upon this video and………. like……… what?


anonymous asked:

31 pynch??❤❤

things you said while i cried in your arms

It was very, very rare, that Adam Parrish cried. 

Adam couldn’t even really remember the last time he cried. He hadn’t even cried when his father used to beat him. Adam knew how to handle himself, he knew what to do, and how to act, and when to break–which was never. 

But, two weeks before finals, Adam broke. He had been away from Ronan and the barns for months, away from his friends, drowning in work and school, and he couldn’t breathe under it. So, he got in his car and drove home, faster than he had ever driven in his life. When he parked the car, Ronan had heard from inside, and came outside, looking worried. Adam hadn’t told him that he was coming.

Keep reading

  • Blue: This is my boyfriend Gansey, and this is Gansey's boyfriend Adam. And that's Adam's boyfriend Ronan. And that's Ronan's boyfriend, Noah
  • Maura: Wait sorry what's the situation?
  • Blue: Gansey is gay for Adam but he's straight for me, and he's also gay for Ronan and Ronan is really gay for Adam and Adam is gay for Ronan but straight for me and Noah is a ghost. And I hate Ronan.
  • Ronan: It's not that complicated.

I don’t know the context but Adam taking Opal to the park and pushing her on the swings and racing her down the slides. Building sandcastles and coming home with their hands all dirty and grimy and sand under their nails. Adam helping Opal across the monkey bars!! She’s too afraid to actually do it herself so Adam holds her up and walks along while she grabs each bar as if she’s actually doing it. After the first time Adam takes her to the park Opal demands he do it at least once a week. Sometimes they go like 3 times (& drag a reluctant (he’s faking it) Ronan along). Opal and Adam love each other sm I’m :’)

But re-imagine the scene in Blue Lily Lily Blue where Ronan makes Adam get in the shopping cart but this time Opal is with them

  • Ronan finally takes it upon himself to buy Opal some new clothes because he’s tired of seeing her in the same outfit everyday
  • He drags Adam along to the store as well because “How the fuck should I know what dream creatures wear. If Blue was here I would’ve let her fashion something out of an old pair of curtains.”
  • Adam just shakes his head in exasperation
  • So they go to the store and Opal goes with them wearing a pair of welly boots that are far too big but the only thing that will conceal her hooves.
  • She sits in the cart Adam pushes round while Ronan holds up obscure items of clothing that no one in their right mind would ever put on their backs
  • Opal hates the selection of children’s clothing and keeps throwing it out of the cart whenever Adam approves any of Ronan’s suggestions
  • Ronan starts to lose his temper and he’s hissing at Opal
  • But as they go past the men’s jumper aisle Opal starts kerah-ing and reaching out to try and pull the jumpers off their hangers
  • So Adam and Ronan pick out a bunch of jumpers and heap them on top of Opal who finally seems happy 
  • After they’ve paid and made it back out to the parking lot, Ronan snatches the cart from Adam’s grip accidentally brushing his hands against Adam’s ofc and once again orders Adam to get in
  • Adam is like “Do you not remember what happened last time?”
  • And Ronan is all “I’ll kiss it all better if you get scraped up.”
  • And Adam is like “Why are you like this.” but gets in anyway because it’s basically tradition
  • Adam has to sit with Opal squashed between his knees and he’s really uncomfy but he’s laughing and as Ronan starts to run, gaining speed, Opal is kerah-ing at the top of her lungs and Ronan is swearing and they go skidding across the parking lot and people are staring and shaking their heads and muttering something about irresponsible parenting but the boys don’t hear any of it because the wind is in their ears and the wheels are clattering over the tarmac and they scrape past the BMW, just managing to avoid it
  • Of course the cart ends up on it’s side and Opal manages to escape the wreckage unscathed thanks to Adam’s protecting her with his body as they went flying from the cart 
  • Ronan is the first one on his feet and he stands for a minute judging the distance they managed to travel and he’s impressed
  • Then he goes over to where Adam is still laying on the ground, one side of his face bloody and his hands covered in grit
  • Opal has pranced away in her welly boots and is singing what Adam recognises as the Murder Squash Song
  • Ronan looks down at Adam, shielding his eyes against the sun, grinning a wicked grin
  • “You are a terrible parent.” Adam groans
  • “You are a terrible liar.” Ronan spits back
  • And Adam laughs because Ronan’s right. 
  • Opal is unharmed and she’s smiling for once and trying to eat some of the gravel that’s stuck in her hair
  • And then Adam holds out his hand so that Ronan can pull him up which he does, rather violently so that Adam ends up crashing into Ronan’s mouth and they get caught in a triumphant kiss, Adam wincing slightly as Ronan brings his hand up to Adam’s ruined face
  • “I’ll dream you something to fix that up later.” Ronan mutters as he finally pulls away 
  • But Adam shakes his head 
  • “I think you could dream up a better way to distract  me from the pain.”
  • And Adam fucking Parrish pinches Ronan’s ass and then just walks away and gets into the driver’s side of the BMW, slamming the door and revving the engine and Ronan almost forgets to bundle Opal and the shopping bags into the car in his haste to get back to Adam’s little room at St Agnes’
A Minor Raven Boys Holiday Drabble

In previous years, Scholastic asked me to do a short 300 Fox Way holiday piece. This year, I decided I’d do one for Gansey. Like the 300 Fox Way piece, it takes place the December before The Raven Boys begins.


   There shouldn’t have been carolers, but there were.

   It was not that Henrietta wasn’t the sort of place to produce carolers on Christmas Eve. It was one of those small Virginia towns that expressed holiday spirit by delivering food to the elderly and decorating fire trucks for the under-aged and filling every public venue with seasonal programming. For a month, the downtown was made festive with shaggy old tinsel stars wired onto street signs. “Jingle Bells” wavered over loudspeakers by the drug store. Church groups offered egg nog at every turn. One didn’t have to sign up for any holiday performances. Henrietta was the holiday performance; one was volunteered to participate by virtue of breathing.

   Carolers fit perfectly into that general world-view.

   But it didn’t seem to Gansey that the carolers should have been here, standing outside in the overgrown parking lot of Monmouth Manufacturing, and it didn’t seem like they should have looked the way that they did. Despite the fact that his old orange Camaro was parked directly below the window he stood beside, the old factory did not appear remotely inhabited. And carolers in Henrietta should have been dressed in holiday sweaters and Santa hats. The van that brought them should have been parked nearby. They should have been singing “O Come All Ye Faithfulor “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”

   This was not that. These carolers played diligently beside the factory’s side door, certain someone was inside to hear them. They wore strange, elaborate headpieces that increased their height by several feet: here an odd pyramid made of straw, here a twisted burlap mask with fibrous antlers above it, here feathers fixed round a yellowing deer skull. Bells tied around their legs shrilled with each step. A fiddle and skin drum sawed a raucous tune.

   Gansey stood at the top of the stairs and shoved the window open. The glass was already cracked, and the window popped as the crack deepened. It held, though. The pane would probably last another year; he had time to fix it. Cool air and fuzzy fiddle music seeped into Monmouth, everything scented with the ordinary odors of damp asphalt and the cheap burger place a few blocks away. Then the wind gusted and brought the smell of wood smoke and dead oak leaves and wet moss. This was the smell of the mountains that had drawn him here.

   He had half a thought the carolers weren’t real.

   The thing was that there always seemed to be carolers.

   He’d spend the last seven Christmases in seven different places, and it had become a bit of a private joke. Some years it was more obvious: the carolers knocking on the door of Malory’s home or playing outside the window of a German flat. Some years he heard them and turned just in time to see the edge of a fiddle or a woven horn disappear around the corner of a South American street. Last year they had come to his parents’ D.C. house while he was there, much to their delight. The Ganseys adored anything that could be loosely titled regional flavor.

   It was hard to say what region these carolers came from. Not here.

   “Oh,” said Noah, standing beside Gansey.

   Gansey jumped. “Jesus. I didn’t know you had come back.”

   “I was always here,” Noah said.

   “Right.” Both boys watched them play. One of the carolers had begun to chant. The sound was not particularly lovely. It was the uncomfortable hybrid of a drinking song and a funeral march. Gansey’s skin crawled agreeably.

   “What do you think they want?” Noah asked.

   It was a peculiar question, Gansey thought. No one asked what the firemen who decorated their trucks wanted. He shivered; it was colder outside than he’d thought when he first opened the window. Maybe they wanted money. Were you supposed to tip carolers? Or — what was the real name for what they were? He knew it; he’d seen them in Wales. Something mumbly. Mumblers. No. Mummers. He called down to them: “What’s the name of that song?”

   The singing did not pause, but the deer skull wheeled up to look at them in the window, feathers fluttering blue and black around the bone.

   “Creepy,” Noah said.

   “Regional flavor,” Gansey said.

   “ ‘The Raven King’,” said the deer skull. Maybe the deer skull. It was hard to tell when they were all wearing masks. Any of them could have said it. All of them could have said it.

   Gansey’s heart double-tapped excitement. Months before, he’d come to Henrietta for a clue in his search for Glendower, and slowly, he’d been running out of material to keep him here. It had weeks since he’d had even the slightest suggestion that he was on the right track. If it had been anywhere else, he would have already left, off to pursue some other lead in some other state or country or hemisphere.

   But he didn’t want to leave Henrietta.

   “Did you say Raven King?” Gansey called out the window. “Hold up — Noah, tell them to hold up, I’m going to get my journal and talk to them. I think—”

   A tremendous bang interrupted him: the sound of a sports car’s suspension under duress. A charcoal gray BMW entered the overgrown lot at a great rate of speed by way of the sidewalk. The carolers music tripped to a stop as the car scuffed to a stop beside the Camaro, the driver’s side door flinging open. All other odors were replaced by the smell of brakes and clutch after torment; the BMW had been ridden hard and put up wet.

   Ronan got out of the car. Even from the second floor, Gansey could still see the puckered brown scars up and down his forearms.

   Gansey was full of the knowledge that he needed to do something about Ronan Lynch before Ronan did something about Ronan Lynch. Christmas was a dangerous time to be a broken thing; the weight of tradition and history could too easily sink a lethargic swimmer.

   In the parking lot below, Ronan eyed the carolers. “Take a walk, you freak-sacks. Don’t just stare at me. Do I look like I’m joking?”

   There was no way that Gansey was going to make it down to the carolers before Ronan scared them off; not much could withstand Ronan when he was choosing to look malevolent. Gansey satisfied himself by pulling out his phone to snag a photograph of their strange departing forms. He’d show them to Adam later. Coincidence, Adam would say, knowing full well that Gansey didn’t believe in coincidences.

   “They freak me out,” Noah said.

   “I like them,” Gansey replied. He liked being freaked out. The prickle of hair on his arms, the curl of anticipation in his gut. He liked that sense that magic was coming for him, instead of the other way around. The door down below slammed as Ronan entered the warehouse. “Don’t come up, Lynch. We’re going out.”

   “To do what?”

   “What do we ever do?” Gansey replied. “To find a king.”

Gansey: Ronan, you deserve the best, and you found it.
Adam, don’t you dare hurt him.
Adam: I won’t.
Blue: Don’t laugh. He means it.
Adam: Okay, I-I won’t.
Noah: Seriously, man, don’t hurt him.
Adam: Okay, I’m not planning on hurting him.
Gansey: You better not be.
Adam: I’m not! Why would any of you think I would hurt Ronan? You’re all my friends too.