they lose respect for each other and gain it back every other race. they have like five kids together. they never stop looking at each other. they talk shit about each other and then shake hands. they podium together and max waterboards tf out of george. they sat in the backseat of the car and made yuki drive them in brazil. everytime they’re p1-p3 they ignore the other driver unless it’s kimi. max blames the track when george crashes. george clowns max’s inability to play any sort of tennis adjacent sport. max legitimately loses his mind at this. george publicly called out max for drinking at 9 am. max said “it’s 5 PM somewhere.” they’re divorced.
Re-reading TRC, and I kept thinking about how Ronan and Adam leaving school to go rescue Gansey when the Pig dies on the side of the road early on would be a really fun way to see the early Pynch dynamic before it's really a dynamic.
Anyways my hand slipped, so here's that from Ronan's POV.
Ronan hung up on Gansey and stared at the phone in his hand like it was a curse. The blue glow of the screen threw light across his fingers, too clean and too modern for the dim hallway outside his classroom, and he hated it on sight. Gansey's voice still clung to him like static, too bright, too insistent. Dead in a ditch, that's what he'd said to Gansey when he'd picked up. It had been a joke. Maybe. Now it was Gansey's orange dinosaur of a car instead, belly up on the side of 64, waiting like a stranded myth from one of those books he loved so much. Of course it was.
He shut the phone, tossed it furiously in his pocket, and leaned back against the wall. The rest of his classes were already lost to him today, and Gansey knew it. Gansey always knew it. What was another hour, anyway? Ronan hated Aglionby, hated the neat uniforms and neat expectations, the way the school smelled like too much polish and old money even in the places you couldn't see either. He'd never fit, not in the ties, not in the polite conversations. He carried Lynch like a brand no one else had to wear.
Gansey's quest was the only thing that made the place tolerable these days. That stupid, impossible search. He wanted to sneer at it, but he'd watched Gansey say the word Glendower too many times, each one lit up with something Ronan had no way of naming. Even if the rest of it was garbage, the light in Gansey's eyes was real. And so Ronan stayed. Even when he said he didn't care, he stayed.
Now Gansey wanted Adam, too. Bring Adam. The words clung. Ronan had already been heading out when he'd hung up, but those two words made his stomach twist. He told himself it was because Adam knew cars, that Gansey's old wreck would need Adam's hands. That was the reason, and it was the right one. But it was also that Gansey didn't see a world where Adam wasn't included. They were a set: Gansey and Parrish and Lynch, each in orbit whether they wanted to be or not.
He found Adam in the hallway on his way to the cafeteria, books stacked against his chest, stride neat as if he was counting the steps. Ronan fell in beside him like gravity.
"Gansey's dead on 64," Ronan said, voice pitched low so it cut through the chatter around them.
Adam's brows knit, the faintest crease of irritation. "What?"
"He called. The Pig's fucked. He wants you."
Adam let out a sharp breath, not quite a sigh. "I've got class after this. Notes don't take themselves."
Adam shifted the weight of his books against his hip, slowing just enough to look at Ronan. "You're dragging me out of lunch because Gansey ran the car into a ditch?"
"Didn't say ditch," Ronan replied. "Said 64. Could be worse."
Ronan shrugged, already turning toward the doors. "Gansey's more important than notes."
Adam's mouth pressed into a line, stubborn, but he didn't argue. He adjusted his books again and followed, his shoes clicking in precise rhythm against the floor.
The hallway thinned as they passed lockers and stairwells, the echo of other boys shouting in the distance. Ronan felt Adam beside him, close enough their shoulders brushed now and then, and hated how much he noticed. He told himself it was just because Adam always walked too stiff, too precise, like even his stride had to prove something. Ronan wanted to throw a shoulder into him just to mess it up.
"You don't have to come," Ronan said finally, even though the thought of Adam not coming set his teeth on edge. "It's probably something stupid easy again."
"Yes, I do," Adam replied, clipped, certain. He didn't look at Ronan when he said it, and Ronan didn't look at him when he smirked.
They pushed through the doors into the afternoon. The BMW waited at the edge of the lot, paint dull with pollen and dust, shark-nosed and predatory. Ronan loved it the way shitty people loved God —violently, unreasonably.
Adam eyes the car, then Ronan. "You're skipping anyway, aren't you? You'd rather drive than sit through another class."
"Can't argue with that," Ronan said. "Neither could Gansey."
They crossed the lot together, Adam muttering something about wasted time, Ronan baiting him with a grin he didn't feel but liked the way Adam scowled at it. Every word was a jab, but it was attention, and Ronan always drank it in like it mattered.
At the car, Ronan yanked the driver's side door open with his usual violence, tossing his bag into the back. Adam slid his books onto the seat before lowering himself in with the same deliberate care he gave everything. Ronan watched him a beat too long before slamming his own door shut, music already roaring to life to fill the silence Adam left.
The BMW tore out of the Aglionby lot like it was meant for escape. Gravel spit against the fenders and the front bumper dipped before leveling out on the narrow road that led toward town. Ronan shoved the gearshift forward with more force than was strictly necessary, the bass already rattling through the frame. The music was a roar in his chest, equal parts heartbeat and weapon.
Adam sat in the passenger, bookbag braced between his knees, one hand tight against the door handle like he didn't trust Ronan not to hurl them off the road. His tie was still neat. His hair caught the afternoon light in careful lines. Everything about him was composed and ordered. It made Ronan want to ruin it, just to see what happened.
The car surged around the first curve, tires whispering against pavement. Adam exhaled sharply. "Jesus, Lynch. Are you trying to roll us before we even find him?"
Ronan grinned without looking away from the road. "If you don't like it, walk."
"At least I'd get there in one piece."
"Doubt it."
Adam's jaw tightened, the faintest twitch in his cheek. "You think this is funny. Some of us actually care about being presentable when we get back to class."
Ronan downshifted into the next curve, the engine snarling. He didn't bother hiding the satisfaction that crawled under his skin at the way Adam braced harder against the seat. "Some of us would rather not die of boredom."
The words were barbed, but that was the point. Adam snapped back without hesitation, and Ronan always fed on it. He liked the fight. He liked Adam's eyes on him, liked knowing he could draw that fire just by existing.
"You know Gansey's not going to thank you for this," Adam said. "If you wrap us around a tree, it won't matter how fast you got there."
Ronan slammed the volume up another notch, the bass thumping so hard it rattled the rearview mirror. "Gansey will thank me when you fix his car."
Adam made a noise of frustration, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. He turned his face toward the window, but not before Ronan caught the faint curve at the corner of his mouth. Victory, small and stupid, but Ronan took it.
They fell into silence after that, the music filling the space where words might have been. Ronan only remembered at the last minute about Gansey's food request, but swinging by for burgers didn't take more than five minutes before they were back on the road again.
Outside, the road unwound beneath them, and Ronan felt the familiar thrill coil in his gut — not of speed, but of control, of threading the car through narrow spaces and knowing it would answer to him alone.
Beside him, Adam shifted his bag and opened his mouth, then closed it again. Ronan didn't press. Whatever Adam was going to say, he wanted him to choose to say it, not be pulled into it. He liked the silence, liked that Adam didn't reach for the radio knob the way Gansey would have. He liked that Adam let the noise stand.
His phone buzzed in his jacket. Ronan glanced down as he yanked it out, saw the name on the screen, and his mood soured instantly. Declan.
He made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat. The phone lit again, insistent. Ronan didn't want to hear his brother's voice, didn't want to feel that familiar anger start its climb. Without looking, he tossed it into Adam's lap.
"You deal with him."
Adam caught it against his thigh, eyebrows drawing together. He hesitated only long enough to sigh before flipping it open. "Declan."
Ronan gripped the wheel tighter, the leather creaking under his hands. He didn't want to hear this. Didn't want to hear his brother's tone. But he couldn't stop himself from half-listening anyway, eyes flicking sideways to Adam's profile.
Adam's voice was different when he spoke into the phone: steadier, calmer, stripped down to pure efficiency. "Yeah. He's driving." Pause. "We'll see. I'll tell him."
Ronan's stomach twisted. He hated Declan, hated every word out of his mouth, hated that Adam had to be the one to field it. But at the same time, he couldn't drag himself away from the way Adam's voice didn't waver once. He hated how good Adam was at stepping straight into a Lynch problem like it was his own, like it was nothing.
Adam covered the receiver for a second, turning just enough to mutter, "He wants us at Nino's tonight. With Ashley."
Ronan growled. "He can shove it."
Adam didn't flinch. He just lifted the phone back, voice smooth. "We'll think about it. Is it important?"
Ronan's chest tightened, fury and something worse knotted together. He wanted to snatch the phone back, wanted to put his fist through the dash, wanted to do anything except admit the truth: that watching Adam handle Declan without blinking made something in him ache so badly he could hardly stand it.
The BMW roared on, carrying them closer to Gansey, closer to whatever fight waited next.
Listen, I know we talk a lot about Ronan's obsession with Adam’s hands (rightfully so), but can we also take a second to appreciate his mentions of Adam’s RIBS?! Forgive me if I'm late here but I never caught this detail until my last reread and I am floored
TRK page 283:
CDTH page 35:
Adam’s r i b s Adam’s riiiiibs, people!! As in, the thing that created Eve, that gave her life. The thing that makes Adam and Eve the same, connected, soulmates, however you wanna look at it.
So you're telling me Adam sees Ronan as a god (two gods in this church)... And Ronan worships Adam (objects of worship)... And Adam idolizes Ronan (couldn't tell if he was letting himself idolize this place or Ronan)... And Ronan created Adam (maybe I dreamt you)... And Adam brought Ronan to life the moment he kissed him back (Adam's ribs under Ronan's hands)...
watching The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel season 2 and honestly the writers did an amazing job with this one. because obviously, season one, 10 minutes in you realize that even though Joel has this dream of being a professional comic and he's trying so hard to be forcibly funny, Midge is the naturally funny, quick witted one out of the two.
and i thought that it was just like that, they grew up in similar households, it would make sense that Midge just happend to turn out a little funnier than Joel, but that's absolutely not the case
Midge grew up around Abe and Rose, and while Abe is a little nerdy, a little out of touch with the world his anxious ramblings are funny, his alcohol induced quips are funny, the scene where they're watching the fireworks in the Catskills, both Rose and Miriam are dying of laughter because Abe is funny
Rose on the other hand, while a little bit of a perfectionist and stickler is razor sharp, her one-liners to Shirley in the salon were hilarious, and she didn't even miss a beat, there's not a world in which in a household like that Miriam turns out unfunny
Moishe on the other hand, is a kind of funny that's entertaining to us, who're watching the show, but like that scene where they're having dinner with Penny he never finishes a joke, even if he had an opportunity to be funny he never fully took it, i'm not saying Joel is boring, he really does have his moments, but they don't feel as casual and natural as it does with the Weissmans
so putting all of that in the equation, the crucial differences in their upbringing, it never could have turned out any different for them. in every universe and in every reality, Midge will always be the one under the spotlight on stage while Joel can't be anywhere else but row 9 seat C
ideal living situation is what i call the 'sitcom special' : having all your closest friends live in the same apartment building or neighborhood where you each have your own space but can wander in and out of eachothers homes at will, seemingly always welcome and never at bad times. and also all of you only have jobs when its important to the plot.
do you think that Rumi asked Celine to braid her hair like her mother because she wanted to feel close to her?
or do you think that Celine decided to do it of her own accord so she could pretend that it was Miyeong instead of Rumi because it was easier to love Miyeong's ghost than accept Rumi as a whole?
Adam lived in an apartment located above the office of St. Agnes Catholic Church, a fortuitous combination that focused most of the objects of Ronan's worship into one downtown block.
i actually never ever stop thinking about the fact that after the raven boys we're led to believe that Ronan is the snake, the devil in the garden of Eden and then dream thieves comes along and we finally get a chapter from his point of view and it is immediately clear that not only is this sad boy not the snake, he's Eve and he's trying so hard not to eat that gosh darn apple that Kavinsky keeps practically forcing down his throat and in response to his taunts and barbs the only person who could get him to stay calm and back away from the temptation is Adam i-
randomly thought of this on a sunday afternoon but the guy who did Josh's fake tattoos for the Heathens mv probably has like, an extensive Cassandra Clare collection at home huh?
something something Aoba Johsai's motto being "Rule the court" which is the ground and Karasuno's motto being "Fly" which is an action that's off the ground
