#Ronan: something normal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

screamingatanemptyroom · 1 month

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Screaming at an Empty Room -

Reintroduction/Update

Hello everyone! Probably too late to do an intro, given that I've been writing on this blog since 2017, but since I've returned after a few years away from writing, I wanted the opportunity to talk about my blog and projects completed and my upcoming plans!

I go by Avaleon everywhere else on the internet, but respond to pretty much anything, including Screaming, hey you, etc! Started this blog in my mid 20s, and aged normally into the early 30s from there. I love writing, have always loved it, but between work and life, it's definitely something that I mostly do late at night and on weekends. I love hearing from people, but I usually answer asks in bunches, and typically right before I post writing. Love hearing about other people's projects as well!

I write short stories, novellas, and occasional full length novels. I am not published, but actively working on self-publishing some of my full length works. Everything I write is posted online, I enjoy sharing my work. The main reason to self publish for me is to have physical copies for myself or anyone who might want one!

My short stories can be found under the #writing tag on my blog. As for the long completed stories, I'll post them below the cut!

Love you Tumblr, happy to be back!

A. Full Length Novels (100,000+ words)

Please Fix the Story!

Description:

I don’t know who I am. I don’t know why I’m trapped in this never ending cycle of rebirth. All I know is that I wake up inside the worlds of unfinished stories, with a mission to accomplish the author’s wishes and stabilize the worlds now headed for destruction. I do my best, hoping, praying that maybe if I complete enough missions, I’ll be able to remember my past and return to my home.

It’s just fixing stories, it should be simple enough.

So can someone explain who this random villain is who keeps following me to each world?

Masterpost linked here

2. I Can’t Eat Love

Description:

Lenora did not have a wonderful life. After her engagement to Prince Ronan is broken, she loses everything… her reputation, her home and her family. Starving on the streets, she dies angry and bitter at how her life unfolded… only to wake up in her old bed, fifteen again, five years before her death.

Now she must struggle to change her fate, and the fate of the around her. This time she won’t trust in something as flimsy or changeable as love. No, this time she’ll have the power and the money she needs to protect herself.

Lenora has already lost everything once. She’s not going to lose again.

No matter the cost.

Masterpost Linked Here

B. Novellas

I Refuse to be a Named Character

Description:

I woke up inside the world of one of the best selling fantasy book series “Deadly Crown.” Intrigue, handsome heroes, adventure… sounds great, right? Just one problem: all the named characters except the main hero and villain die, are replaced and their replacements die. Being important in this story is a death sentence, so I plan to move to the middle of nowhere, and avoid the plot!

It should be a fool proof plan, so why do the main characters keep dragging me into the story?

Masterpost Linked Here

2. Living in a Rewrite of my Own Book World

Description:

This is the story about an author who gets hit by a car right before she can finish her bestselling book series. Trapped in the role of a terrible side character antagonist, she must find a way to change the story’s ending. Not just for her own survival, but for the characters that seem just a little too real to be fiction. (30K words)

Masterpost Linked Here

3.Baby’s First Revenge!

Description:

When Charlotte is betrayed and killed by the friend she sacrificed everything for, she thought it was the end. Instead, she found herself reborn as a baby, with her killer still enjoying the fame of stealing her work. Now, she's coming after him, and plans to make him pay... But first, nap time.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

4. The Supervillain’s Daughter

The story of Erica, a girl who finds out that her brother is the kidnapped child of superheroes, and that her parents are villains. Years later she is the best agent in the Villain Suppression Unit, and hates everything to do with superheroes. So of course she isn’t pleased when she is paired with the strongest man alive, especially because she knows him. But with even darker parts of her past surfacing again, she will have no choice but to join forces and save the world.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Other smaller works and the incomplete ones can be found on this page

Thanks everyone!

#Writeblr #writeblr intro #writers on tumblr #reintroduction after all this time #Fantasy #sci fi #short stories #thank you everyone who has stuck with me #and welcome to anyone just finding me

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sargentoh · 1 year

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i think something funny about ronan is that hes gay and drag races because normally when you pair those two things together people think about dolly parton and rupaul or whatever but he’s actually out baptizing his car non catholic style and doing coke on the hood after

#sorry i’ve been gone for so long 🧍🏿‍♀️#trc #tdt #the raven boys #the raven cycle #the dream thieves #blue lily lily blue #the raven king #ronan lynch #adam parrish #richard campbell gansey the third #richard gansey #blue sargent #noah czerny #henry cheng #bluesey #pynch #joseph kavinsky

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micamicster · 1 month

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Super Rich Kids

Close my eyes and feel the crash...

I wrote this one on post-its on a trans-continental flight after my phone (where i was re-reading the raven cycle) died. 0/10 plane experience would not recommend but I did manage to entertain myself! And now hopefully you as well!

When Ronan pulled into Monmouth Manufacturing he knew Gansey wouldn’t be there. Adam Parrish was, though, sitting on the steps in the golden afternoon light, bike dumped to the side in dying grass. He didn’t so much as flicker an eyelid when Ronan bootlegged the BMW into an approximation of parking on the far side of the lot, which was fine because that’s how he would have parked the car anyway, whether or not Adam was here.

Ronan was pretty sure that Gansey had arranged a shift system with the other boys, to prevent Ronan from being unaccompanied on the rare occasions of his own absence. The idea of a babysitter should have rankled Ronan, but Adam did not seem particularly invested in his role. Small favors.

As he got out of the car he gave Adam his customary once-over, as brief as it was habitual. You could notice a lot in a single glance, if you were Ronan, glancing at Adam.

Adam was wearing long sleeves (his father? Or just because it was October?) and his faded camo pants, the ones Ronan said made him look like a jingoistic meathead. They had recently acquired a tear in one knee. Not in the stylish, deliberate manner in which Ronan’s own jeans were shredded, but awkwardly, in an L-shape, where they had caught on some jagged edge and given way before even careful Adam had noticed and unhooked himself. The tear gaped open at times, like it was doing now, revealing Adam’s knobby left knee and, worse, a triangle of his brown thigh.

Ronan looked away.

Ronan never allowed himself, even in dreams, to trespass beyond the carefully demarcated boundaries of Adam’s clothes. And Adam was usually helpful in the maintenance of this boundary. Unlike Gansey, who could be found working on his model Henrietta in boxers at all hours of the night, or wandering to and from the shower in a towel, absent-mindedly forgetting his clothes in bathroom or bedroom. Unlike the boys Ronan played tennis with, who stripped down casually in the locker room after practice. Unlike even Ronan himself, who’d never met a shirt he couldn’t rip the sleeves off; Adam was always fully covered.

This summer, foolishly, Ronan had imagined that this might change. Now that the hideous secrets Adam protected with his long sleeves were no longer his alone. But by now he knew what kept those sleeves in place, something that Adam had already understood: that knowing and seeing are two very different things.

For example: this. Ronan knew that Adam, like most people who walked around on earth under their own power, possessed thighs. Two of them, attached in the normal way to other body parts, such as knees and hips. To know this was one thing.

Now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t stop seeing it. The way his knee bent, and the muscle above shifted as Adam made room on the steps for him. Ronan was looking away, out at the familiar, grounding, skid marks on the concrete of Monmouth’s lot, but he could picture in their place with deadly accuracy the hinge of Adam’s knee, the tanned skin of his thigh, scattered with golden-brown hair. He could dream about pressing his face against it.

He picked up a rock and hurled it. It glanced off the side of the soulless suburban and fell anticlimactically into the grass dying by the rear tire. It didn’t help.

Adam shifted next to him, subtly.

“What?” said Ronan. “Impressed?”

“Surprised, more like. I thought you were supposed to be the tennis star.”

“You think you can do better?” Ronan pried another hunk of gravel or concrete out of the dirt and tossed it in his left hand, tauntingly.

“I know I can.”

“But?”

“But,” said Adam, with some hint of exasperation coloring his voice, “I’m not going to sit here chunking rocks at Gansey’s car to prove it. My ego’s not that fragile.” His accent slipped out on chunkin’, not as if Ronan had pissed him off enough to forget to hide it, but as if it was a word he’d never used any other way.

Ronan threw his rock again. This was, if anything, a worse throw than before, and it skittered harmlessly across the suburban’s roof.

Adam made a small but contemptuous noise.

“Don’t give me that shit, man. You know he hates this fucking car.”

“That was for your shitty aim.”

“Come on then.” Ronan hefted another piece of gravel. “Ten points if you knock out his taillight.”

“It costs a hundred and five dollars to replace a taillight on that make and model. Plus tax.”

Ronan’s brief cheer was collapsing again. “I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to bust Dick’s lights.”

Adam blinked slowly, his dusty eyelashes obscuring the contempt in his eyes for a brief moment. “I’ll leave.” (He wouldn’t).

Ronan dropped the rock. Next to him Adam sighed. Abruptly, he put out his hand. “Telephone pole. Six feet from the top.”

Ronan swept back up the rock and dropped it into his hand. Their fingers did not touch. His heart thudded.

Adam tossed the rock once, testing its weight while his gaze, cool and assessing, remained on the telephone pole. It was a splintered, tilting thing, shamed by his attentions. In one smooth, economical movement, he rose to his feet and let the rock fly. His leg went forward, knee jutting out of his clothes, his back curved, and his arm swept around in an arc, fingers scraping at the blue October sky. Ronan didn’t need to turn his head to know if the rock hit—he could see it in the brief hard satisfaction on Adam’s face.

Adam turned back to him, one eyebrow cocked.

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to earn that hundred,”

Adam shrugged. The gesture was disinterested, but there was a quirk to his mouth that contradicted it. “I know nothing blew up, but…”

Ronan already had another rock in his hand. “West corner lightbulb. It breaks or it doesn’t count.” Adam rolled his eyes, but turned agreeably to watch Ronan miss.

“Would you like to get your tennis racket?”

“Eat me,” said Ronan. (Maybe).

They traded shots back and forth for a while, calling increasingly specific and complex plays.

“Bullshit. Bullshit.”

“Get the government to pay for some glasses, Parrish, and then come back and try to tell me that wasn’t a fucking bullseye—”

“It wasn’t even close! You—”

“You calling me a liar?” Ronan loomed, and Adam, as usual, was unimpressed.

“Just because you don’t lie doesn’t make you right all the time! Like when you said that quote on Tuesday was Seneca. It doesn’t stop being Martial just because you’ve got a child’s sense of morality—”

“See, right there.” Ronan pointed triumphantly at an invisible scuff mark on the doorsill, marking where his handful of gravel had made impact.

Adam gave it a skeptical glance. His face was faintly flushed from exertion in the cold air, but his eyes were as cool and considering as ever. “What we need,” he said, “is a knife.”

Ronan was not allowed knives.

“Are you trying to stab each other in the feet? Why are your shoes off! It’s October!”

“Equal playing field.” Ronan wiggled his toes against the cold asphalt. “Parrish’s shitty knife is no match for my boots.” Over Gansey’s head, Ronan tried to catch Adam’s eye, to share a ‘can you believe him’ sort of look. Adam’s embarrassment over being caught acting irresponsibly meant Ronan could expect the look to be rebuffed, but he couldn’t help himself from trying it anyway.

Adam was bent over, eyes hidden. He carefully dusted off his socked feet one at a time before sliding them back into his shoes, as though the socks or sneakers could look any worse. A little parking lot crud might improve their appearance, actually.

Next to him, Gansey was still fussing. Without the pressure release valve of eye contact with someone who knew Gansey was overreacting, Ronan snapped, “Come off it, man, I’m not going to slit my throat while Parrish watches. He can’t afford that caliber of snuff film.”

Gansey’s concern transformed into revulsion, but underneath it he looked hurt, which was far far worse.

Adam straightened up. “We were just using it to mark where we hit. Honestly, we could have done it tossing a sharpie, but neither of us had one.” He sounded conciliatory, which pissed Ronan off. But Gansey was letting it go, returning the knife to Adam with an apologetic smile. Sorry for the fuss. Sorry for Ronan. Ronan’s bare feet were cold against the asphalt.

“Well? Are you going to throw or not, Parrish?” he said belligerently.

Adam rolled his eyes, but obligingly stooped for gravel and let one fly at Ronan’s open bedroom window, a shot he made easily.

Gansey whistled. “You’ve got quite the arm on you. How come you’re not on the Algionby baseball team?”

Adam shifted his feet, awkwardly.

“Please,” scoffed Ronan, “he’s not a team player.”

Gansey did not let it go. “Bet you’d have a better fastball than both our pitchers.”

There was a pause, during which Adam’s face clearly showed all of the thoughts he was trying to corral into a polite response to Gansey’s unconsidered enthusiasm. Ronan got there first. “Yeah, Parrish, why not hitch your wagon to the star of organized sports, like every other rags to riches wannabe?”

“Ronan!” said Gansey, Ronan’s offensiveness registering where his own had not.

“Hitch my wagon to a star?” Adam was unruffled. “I thought quoting Transcendentalists could get you excommunicated.”

“Who said I know it’s Emerson. It’s a sourceless idiom to those of us who aren’t sad little nerds.”

Adam smirked. The smirk said, I never said Emerson. His words said, “Gansey’s damning me with faint praise. No one’s going pro out of an Algionby sport team. Even tennis.”

“Ouch,” said Ronan, cheerfully. “Hit me where it really hurts. My school pride.”

Now that Gansey had arrived, his plans for the day took precedence over noble pastimes such as flipping pocketknives at each other’s feet. His plans involved comparing readings from various instruments and then placing said various instruments in various new locations, all of which were equally arbitrary (to Ronan’s eyes) and inaccessible. Gansey’s plans involved him waiting by the car to monitor the readings while people hiked with antennae to the outermost reaches of the signal. People, in this instance, being Ronan and Adam, Noah having mysteriously and silently fucked off, as he so often did when a job required carrying anything.

Ronan put his head down and trudged. It was brambly here, and slightly damp, and he was beginning to work up the kind of counter-intuitive sweat that appears from working in the cold, the kind that makes you colder later.

As the person leading the hike, custom would dictate that he should catch and hold the long clinging arms of the brambles for the following hiker. This presented a dilemma. Ronan compromised, and set about stomping the multiflora into the ground as he walked. Scarlet hips burst under his feet, invasive and beautiful, spreading their millions of seeds across the damp earth. Noxious weeds.

“It’s too unreliable,” said Adam, into the silence. “Sports. It all depends on… your physical condition.”

“And your condition is shit.”

There was Adam’s ironic smile. “Yes. So.” He shrugged. There was the part they weren’t saying, which was that his physical condition could always get worse. Unexpectedly.

“My dad hates baseball.” Ronan heard himself make the slip—hates and not hated—and a spark of fury burned through him, brief and inconsequential.

“My dad loves it.”

They marched on in silence.

Adam swore as a bramble Ronan had beaten down sprang up again, catching him right across the tear, where his skin was exposed. He bent to unhook it from the camo with deft, deliberate hands. “What?” he said, like he could feel Ronan’s eyes.

Ronan looked away. “Why not the military?” He kicked purposelessly at the bramble and heard Adam sigh. “And don’t tell me you never thought about it. Test scores like yours out in hicksville high school, you must have had recruiters hopping all over you like fleas.”

“Would you believe I had a moral objection?” Adam’s smile was self-deprecating. Ronan studied it.

“No.”

Adam shrugged. It, too, was self-deprecating.

“I think you had a superiority objection. You think you’re too smart for that shit.”

Adam blinked at him. “Do you think I’m wrong?”

Ronan snorted. “Hell no. You can do better than getting blown up in a desert for the United States government.”

The smile, when it came, was small and stunning. “Damned by faint praise again.”

#lmao with this and the country playlists this blog has been on a real raven boys kick the last few days #anyway... enjoy?#i need to make a tag for my writing like... generally but until then #super rich kids #this really isn't about anything and had nothing else attached to it #it was just a random scene that stood alone so like...#probably the best thing for me to start out this 'posting unfinished stuff' project #i feel like gansey does not appear at his best in this fic but that's not a reflection of how much i love him!#he's trying his best to keep this family together! and the other 15 year olds are no help at all!#ronan lynch #adam parrish #the raven cycle #pynch #tw suicide mention

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nhasablogg · 4 months

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How to move an immovable object

Fandom: The Raven Cycle

Characters: Adam, Gansey, Ronan

Summary: Adam worries he's not ticklish enough to be fun to tickle. Gansey and Ronan notice, like they always do.

A/N: Hey @happyandticklish guess what!! @tickles-tea commissioned this fic for you as a Christmas gift!! I took the liberty of using the prompt you sent me as a continuation of your own commission for this, and I really hope you like it!! Thank you @tickles-tea for the commission!

Read part one here.

Words: 2.1k

Adam kind of wished this conversation didn’t have to take place while he was somewhat trapped between them, Ronan’s elbow somewhere in his ribs while Gansey nearly wacked him in the face as he was talking. He sounded animated, although Adam had seen the signs of concern and should’ve known he would bring it up eventually. Had thought he could play it cool and they would let it go. How wrong he’d been.

Gansey’s animation was emphasized by Ronan’s silence, which made Adam more nervous than he could explain. He could feel his gaze on him and refused to meet it, opting instead to stare in front of him, watching the snowflakes fall outside the window as if this was any normal conversation. Gansey stopped talking when he noticed him drifting, not knowing just how much Adam was hanging onto every word he said despite pretending to be doing otherwise.

“Do you understand what I mean?” he asked, sounding uncertain in a way that was unlike him.

Adam looked at him. It was easier than looking at Ronan. “Sure.”

“Am I right, then? That you’re avoiding it on purpose?”

Adam looked away again, face burning. “Uhm. Maybe.”

Gansey seemed to wait a beat for him to elaborate, before saying, “Well, I guess the next question is, why? If you wanted to join in the first place?”

In order to understand, Adam was forced to remember. Adam was very good at remembering. Gansey and Ronan tangled up in situations that made him jealous, which wasn’t something he was used to. He was used to the bitterness of not having what other people had. Of never being able to reach out his fingertips to touch what other people had been cradling ungratefully their whole life. But this had been different. This had been silly and playful and embarrassing to admit that he’d wanted, for the first time not out of his reach at all, but on the contrary, just about to land in his own lap.

But Adam Parrish wasn’t good at asking for what he wanted. Adam Parrish wasn’t good at accepting the things he wanted without having to fight for them.

The whole tickling thing had been given to him after he’d spent weeks running away from it, and once it had been his - squeezes to his knees and pokes to his ribs, with the occasional proper tickle fights which left him giggling beneath his friends - he now didn’t know what to do with it. And so he did what he usually did: he started overthinking it.

It had started because he’d been watching Ronan tickle Gansey again, this time aware he would probably be roped into it and not fleeing until it would be part of the game; a game of cat and mouse which would end with him beneath merciless fingers. But Gansey had been screaming with laughter as Ronan discovered a spot on his lower stomach which they baptized as his Worst Spot, and Adam had never heard himself laugh like that. Had never seen Ronan beam down at him in the way he was grinning at Gansey. “This is the best day of my life,” he’d said, and Adam had never heard those words aimed at him. Had he been jealous? Not necessarily. Maybe a little. Maybe he was suddenly wondering if he was even fun to tickle, with his silent giggling and the way he curled up. No grandness once they got past his initial walls of trying to avoid it. Only stillness. He wasn’t even really that ticklish on most spots. It had been strangely devastating to realize.

He was looking at Gansey now, remembering another week of avoiding them again, this time for different reasons that were still somehow related. He wondered briefly why he couldn’t be normal about this. Why this had to turn into a thing each time it was approached.

“It’s really fucking stupid,” he said, choking up in a way he couldn’t stand. “Like, really stupid. Like you should probably just drop it, stupid.”

“Adam.” Gansey’s hand was on his arm, which was resting on Adam’s stomach, and so his fingertips were brushing over skin which should be ticklish but was merely sensitive. He didn’t even worry that Gansey would accidentally tickle him. “How many times do we have to say this? You can talk to us. We won’t judge. I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

Suddenly Adam couldn’t stand the way he was looking at him, and so he turned his head to the other side, coming face to face with Ronan. Ronan, who showed emotions through his eyes more than anything, and yet Adam couldn’t read him now. The embarrassment was different when facing Ronan. He felt like he could see into his very soul. Adam didn’t even want to begin to think of what he would find in there.

“Parrish.” His voice was low, as if he’d spoken before deciding to do so. On his other side, Adam could feel Gansey shifting, trying to twist his body so that he could look at them.

Adam exhaled. “Yes?”

“What is it that’s bothering you?”

“I feel-” Inadequate. “-not ticklish enough?”

Neither of them laughed. Neither of them questioned him. Ronan simply tilted his head, curiosity flickering across his face as he said, “Elaborate.”

And so Adam did.

“I’m worried I’m not ticklish enough and that I’m not fun to tickle because of that.” They’d long established that his initial reactions to being touched didn’t fully have to do with his sensitivity, but they’d not spoken more about it. Adam hadn’t wanted to. Now each question of “is this okay?” had more to do with touching him than with if it was tickling him. They’d taken it as a challenge when realizing not every touch was ticklish. Adam should’ve known they liked a challenge, and maybe that would’ve been enough had he not started lamenting over the fact that they rarely succeeded like he wished they would.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” he said when he was done, recounting the times Ronan had come out of a tickle fight panting for breath, or Gansey having fled into another room because he’d not been able to take it any longer. Adam had never done that. Adam was an immovable object.

“It’s not stupid,” Gansey said gently. “I just wish you’d come to us sooner. Have you been overthinking each tickle fight?”

“Not until somewhat recently.” That was partly a lie. Adam had been overthinking most tickle fights for entirely different reasons, but they didn’t need to know what. Not yet.

“It’s okay to not be super ticklish, you know,” Gansey continued. “We can still make you giggle. You still have fun during them, right?”

Adam was blushing now, unsure of what to do with himself. “Uhm. Sure.”

Ronan let out a laugh. “You don’t sound very convincing.”

“No, no, I do have fun, I just-” He shrugged, laughing too, feeling ridiculous. “Are you supposed to admit to that?”

“Why do things if you’re not enjoying them.” Gansey’s grin suddenly dropped. “Maybe it’s on us to make you enjoy them more, though. Change techniques. Maybe we just haven’t found your spots yet.”

“Maybe.”

Ronan hummed. “Only one way to find out.”

Perhaps he’d always known a conversation like this would end in an experiment, because what else could they do? Only he’d not expected to feel nervous about it, watching Ronan reach out while holding his breath. He kept his arms pressed to his sides, suddenly feeling exposed between them on the bed, but wasn’t that the point? To feel vulnerable and ticklish and helpless while trapped between them? Adam didn’t feel ticklish, although he didn’t necessarily feel not ticklish either. A strange middle ground. Wasn’t that just his life?

Ronan reached out and Adam held his breath and Gansey was probably watching intently on his other side, only Adam couldn’t stop watching Ronan’s approaching hand and so he couldn’t tell for certain. Anyone else would probably start curling up, or move their hands without meaning to in order to block the attack, giggling before being touched, but Adam simply remained still, watching.

“I know your ribs are ticklish,” Ronan said, stopping just above them. He said it matter-of-factly, although he could sense a teasing tone among each word, reminding Adam that this was supposed to be fun. “Tell me just how ticklish on a scale of one to ten.”

“Uhm. Maybe a six?”

“I’m sure I can turn it into a ten.”

With those words Ronan made contact, and while it did tickle - a twitch of the body, his breath coming out in a surprised laugh - Adam could remain as he was for ten seconds before he felt the need to push Ronan off, only of course Ronan didn’t let that deter him. That was partly the way their tickle fights went. Adam slowly fell into somewhat of a panic because he couldn’t stop it, not necessarily because it tickled too much. If that even made sense.

“See, if I do this,” Ronan sang, digging his fingers into his upper ribs. “I’m sure you’ll beg for mercy in no time.”

Adam snorted through his laughter, grabbing onto Ronan’s wrist without really thinking of it. “I don’t think I will.”

“Maybe you need to be gentler,” Gansey said, demonstrating his words by wiggling his fingers in the air and making Adam feel all the more flustered. “Maybe he’s the type to break under soft tickles.”

The casual way they spoke of this made Adam blush, much to their delight. Ronan did as Gansey said and trailed his fingertips lightly over his ribs, though Adam couldn’t feel it as much and so he slipped his hand beneath his shirt to try again, after Adam gave his consent.

Adam felt, for the first time since their tickle fights started, as if he needed to escape the tickling right that second, which translated into his arms flailing, his words becoming incoherent through his panicked laughter - laughter! - in a way that much resembled the sounds Gansey and Ronan would make.

“W-wait!”

“There we go.” Gansey seemed much too triumphant for someone who wasn’t doing the tickling himself, but he would eat that thought up soon as he decided to join in, spidering his nails lightly over Adam’s kneecap which seemed much more effective than simply squeezing at it.

Adam realized, in the midst of it all, that he wasn’t used to gentle touches and so hadn’t known how much they would tickle him. Maybe they realized it, too, but no one said anything about it. It didn’t seem necessary. Besides, they were a little busy now, turning Adam into a giggly mess. Gansey was zeroing in on a spot which had never elicited much of a reaction before, but he seemed determined now, curling his fingers over Adam’s neck over and over, the spot just beneath his ear which always made other people recoil. He wasn’t entirely sure at which point the sensation became ticklish, only that suddenly he felt he couldn’t stand it. Was suddenly giggling because of it.

“Stop!” he cried, raising his shoulder and finding it didn’t help. One hand occupied by Ronan’s hand which was holding onto it, the other desperately trying to shove Ronan’s other hand away from his bare ribs. Leaving his neck to fend for itself and his shoulder not doing much despite trying so desperately. Adam, never having had a weakness for neck tickles, was suddenly lost in a sea of giggles, feeling his whole body recoil at the gentleness, at the sensation which he couldn’t stand, and he suddenly understood them, his two ticklish friends. Understood why they fled and always came back.

“No offense, Parrish, but you seem really ticklish for someone who thinks they’re not.” Ronan was grinning at him, evading Adam’s panicked hand easily.

“This is fun, right?” Gansey had moved his other hand to the other side of Adam’s neck, leaving him trapped, all of them tangled limbs, all of them laughing.

To say he was flustered by it all - the tickling, the realizations, the patience and delight and gentleness Gansey and Ronan displayed toward him - would be an understatement. Adam was suddenly certain he would die here and be okay with it. The bed creaked as he struggled, although he’d not yet tried to get up. Maybe he would get there eventually. Or maybe not. He was okay either way. He trusted them either way.

“Are your armpits ticklish?” Ronan asked, finally - finally - letting his ribs be and trying to worm his hands under his arms instead.

“No!”

“No? I’m sure I can prove otherwise.”

Adam didn’t doubt it.

#tickling #ticklish!adam #trc fic #trc #the raven cycle #rodansey #n writes #how to move an immovable object

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ganseysglasses · 7 months

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I don’t talk enough about Adam and Gansey’s friendship so I’m going to do that now.

Once we knew that the tree they found in book one was designed to show someone their worst nightmare, I lost it. Adam’s worst nightmare was that he would be the one to kill Gansey. He didn’t even know he was destined to die yet, and Gansey and Adam spent half of the first book arguing but adam’s biggest fear was hurting Gansey. Adam had a million things to be afraid of. He could have been scared of going home, of never getting out, never going to harvard. He was so scared of proving everyone who ever assumed he was nothing right, but he was more scared of hurting Gansey.

He doesn’t share the same unquestionable loyalty and devotion to Gansey that Ronan has, as seen by Adam questioning every action Gansey takes towards him, but he wouldn’t dare hurt Gansey.

I haven’t even begun to talk about about this next line yet.

“I don’t have a brother, ma'am," Adam replied. But Blue saw his eyes dart to Gansey”

Adam sees Gansey as a brother, and knows that no matter how many times one of them says something awful to the other, they’re inexplicably tied together through that bond.

Adam sees himself as unknowable, but Gansey is just so curious. He’s a curious person, driven by a need to know in all aspects of his life, and he is so fascinated by Adam Parrish and his defensive nature and Normal Person knowledge.

Gansey grew up so rich and spent his formative years traveling the world in search of magic so he didn’t get to learn a lot of basic things. So Adam, with his practical skills of fixing things, and his actual job(s), is an enigma to him.

He wants to appreciate Adam in the only way he knows how and Adam hates that, so Gansey does what he does best and he learns and studies and finds new ways to show Adam he cares. It’s all practical gifts and car rides and small gestures with them.

The two of them together are an unstoppable force of will power, mystery, and determination and nobody ever sees it coming. Their friendship is everything to me and one of the best parts of the series.

#the raven cycle #gansey #ronan lynch #blue sargent #adam parrish #i love gansey #adam parrish <3 #adam and gansey #friendship #short essay #i’m obsessed #the raven cycle essay

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noyoucannotpushthevoid · 4 months

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Raven Cycle characters as Things People I know have Said (basically Henry/K Edition)

“What’s up chuckle fucks?” - Ronan “Bigger is bigger” - Ronan “I summon thee, [Chainsaw]” - Henry “Taking lethal levels of psychic damage at age 7 isn’t good for development” - about Ronan “Bitch” (about a crying child) - Ronan “When a fish and a woman love each other very much…” - Henry, no explanation “He’s deceptively smart for his appearance” - Henry about Ronan “Hi, I’d like to buy one mayoral office please?” - Henry joking about Gansey’s parents “I’ve been told I make a good distraction” - Henry “We’re all fucking lemmings here” - Blue pointing out they’d all do anything Gansey asked them to “The magic sex wizard put them in the same body” - Henry “‘[D]o a superhero landing’ (Ronan) ‘I was just going to ask if I [could] do a superhero landing[!]’ (Noah)” “I have no context for lemmings” - Ronan “That’s alright Captain, we can buff out those scratches” - Ronan after absolutely wrecking the pig beyond repair “[Gansey] and [Ronan] couple moment” - Henry “Raisinify your bucket hat” - Matthew scrunching up his bucket hat when nervous “How can [Gansey] be depressed with that much cake?” - Henry “There’s pee on your key?” - Declan after finding bird poop on the Barns’ spare key and confronting Ronan about it “God’s eepiest soldier” - about Adam "'...his hair's not doing to well' (Gansey describing their new latin teacher) 'I was going to ask if he was a dilf, but that answers my question' (Henry)" "The man [in the BMW] said the password was 'go fuck yourself'" - Adam to Declan after Declan asked what the new passcode at the Barns was "Oh, I died...oopsie" - Gansey dying for the eleven millionth time "They're uncivilized, they don't know what vodka is" - Kavinsky "May I history?" - Gansey asking to lore dump on any of his friends "If I can't clean my wounds with it, then I don't want to drink it!" - Kavinsky "Need a fire starter? Just buy Everclear" - Also Kavinsky “Your rat friend … he’s not your friend” - Gansey about Kavinsky “Oh damn he livin” - Everyone about Noah before they found his body “The fucking hot tub? Why not the regular one?” - Henry, like my DM, thinks he’s funny (he is) “Does anyone have a blanket? Just swaddle me like a fucking baby” - Ronan while sick “Can I roll insight on something? … does he think I'm a child?” - Blue anytime she meets another Raven boy “[she]’s normally small, not cursed to be small” - Ronan explaining the difference in small vibes between Opal and Blue “Who would win: some dumbass flying lizard or 50 action express?” - Ronan to Adam at 2am “‘I forget what color phosphorus burns so I'm going to say purple’ (Gansey) ‘The answer is hot’ (Adam)”

#the raven cycle #blue sargent #ronan lynch #adam parrish #gansey #henry cheng #noah czerny #joseph kavinsky

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miseria-fortes-viros · 2 months

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what do you think would happen thatd make blue wear "normal clothes" even for a day ?? (i mean she probably doesnt own any but im curious) (also hi lol :] *finger guns")

hi kalei!! sorry for completely forgetting about my inbox xoxo. there are not many things i believe would make blue wear normal clothes. however they do exist. so. list of reasons blue might be spotted wearing a simple t shirt and jeans or something of that variety:

getting down and dirty; yardwork/chores. canon count: 1

getting down and dirty; burying/exhuming a body. canon count: 2

to appear inconspicuous; sneaking around/stealing something. canon count: 0 (shame.)

to appear inconspicuous; sneaking into aglionby wearing a uniform. canon count: 0 (SHAME.)

to cabeswater; because the situation was dire and there was simply no time to choose an eccentric outfit. canon count: 1

to cabeswater; spelunking and general cave exploration. canon count: 2

in the camaro; because it’s the middle of the night and the only one to observe her is gansey. canon count: 1

laundry day; she wears one of the many hoodies she’s stolen from ronan. canon count: 0 (SHAME.)

#asks #remi/kalei <3 #blue sargent #barbi.trc #the raven cycle

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watermelonsugacry · 2 years

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I know bandmate! y/n is british i think, but in my head i always imagine her as like a full on irish version of Louis, like she's got the most thick Dublin accent and is always swearing and always calls Niall a "Culchie" cause he's from Mullingar

I think i think it cause im irish but it fits so perfectly in my head

I think the best way to show the accent im talking about would be Saoirse Ronan's and a mix of other Northern Dublin accents

but when she's trying to act professional in interviews etc she'll slip into a South Dublin or even kind of American accent but once something funny happens or shes gotten comfortable she'll go back to how she normally talks and just comes off really loud and fun 😭

i...LOVE THIS

bc for me, yn's accent is like louis's: thick, sometimes hard to understand for americans, swearing, etc.

i love Saoirse's accent like it's pure music to me ngl. speaking of her and interviews though, that's something yn would do a lot: speak in a "clearer" accent for other people to understand her.

for her press interviews for Little Women, people would always compliment her on how good her american accent was:

"'Fank you!" YN beams from her seat in between Flo and Timothée. "S'quite funny because in the band, Niall and I would always try to mimic accents where ever we went for tour just to sort of entertain ourselves. So me dialect coach for the film was quite happy with how much pronunciation I knew 'cause some of it can be quite hard. And actually, tweaking me accent every now and then for interviews and things like that with the band was like a normal thing for me after a while."

"Whatever for?" Flo questions from her right.

"S'cause people wouldn't bloody understand meh," YN laughs and the room follows suit.

"Well I think your accent is beautiful, truly," Timothée compliments, making YN coo and briefly rest her head on his shoulder.

Or when she's on tour and she's trying to talk with a fan:

"'Ello! Wha's yeh name? Furn? That's a beautiful name—"

Fern! It's Fern!

"Furn?"

No, Fern!

"Furn," YN retorts back with a furrow of her eyebrows. "Like the thingys Harry has tattooed." She tries to explain as she motions to her lower stomach.

Yes!

"Well tha's what m'bloody saying innt?" YN laughs as she throws her hands up. "M'from north'rn England, babe. V'got an accent. Fern, right?" The crowd erupts into a fit of laughter and screams at the sound of her Vally Girl accent. "Fern. No, my name is Fern. Ferrrn. I don't think this bitch understands me." YN sassily teases, her pointer finger up and waving from side to side.

Later on in the show as YN covers Alive, she sings:

Went to a party just after the doctor talked to me I met Fern, I took her in up to the balcony

#harry x 1dbandmember!reader #since 2010 series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #harry styles fanfic #one direction fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #famous!reader #famous!yn #harry styles masterlist

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