RONAN LYNCH — the bull-headed boy, the two-headed calf
call down the hawk - maggie stiefvater / minotaur, bronze sculpture (1990) — pedro requejo novoa / the minotaur (painting) - wikipedia excerpt / the minotaur, oil on canvas (1885) - george frederic watts / the elektra complex — joan tierney / call down the hawk — maggie stiefvater / frankenstein — mary shelley / greywarren — maggie stiefvater / house of asterion — jorge luis borges / the dream thieves — maggie stiefvater / labyrinthus hic habitat minotaurus [fig.32. - graffito at pompeii. (museo borbonico.)] — mazes and labyrinths: a general account of their history and developments / call down the hawk — maggie stiefvater / house of asterion — jorge luis borges / greywaren — maggie stiefvater / the two-headed calf — laura gilpin / greywaren — maggie stiefvater
First of all, you'll realise right how insane it is to just recite latin phrases when your boy is literally possessed by a fucking demon! Like how did your mind even go there Ronan???
And second of all, that phrase itself is so... Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit (perhaps it will please us one day to remember these things)... Like??? Wtf dawg this is the craziest thing one could say??
And it's not even that the romantic subtext that gets me, you could be saying this to a friend or a family while they are going through bad times and it'll still be so crazy. Ronan could've been saying this to Adam in a very platonic way it would still get me. And this goes in hand with Ronan punching Robert scene and the St. Agnes rent thing. For me, these were not a romantic gesture. Because this could've been just Ronan being a good friend. And I wouldn't have even doubted it bc we've seen how protective he is of his friends throughout the series.
And that's what makes me go a little feral thinking about it tbh. Because even if Ronan didn't have romantic feelings for Adam he still would've cared the same way and done the same things for him and not just bc he thinks Adam is hot. He still would've loved him even if they weren't fucking yk???
That's why I go literally insane when I think Ronan and Adam were friends before lovers. Bc they genuinely love each other rather than it just being a physical attraction thing (I mean they are horny bastards but that's besides the point). Idk it just does some unexplainable things to me.
ok but like… there’s something sooo buzzy about reading trc/tdt as a domestic gothic, especially w the lynch family?? like hennessey’s lace as something that grew out of the trauma of her parents’ marriage and just stuck to her. and declan throwing the wedding ring down the drain?? and then the doubles?? hennessey/jordan, mor/aurora… the softer versions of them...what they could’ve been if none of it happened. idk it’s just… the house is still there but something is deeply, fundamentally wrong with it.
2 passes by the fortune teller (and Angie): Ronan & Declan, Farooq-Lane
2 cigarettes: the doorman & Jordan, Bernie Feinman
2 hunts for The Dark Lady: Jordan Hennessy, Declan
2 hunts for Bryde: Ronan, Mor ..........(Farooq-Lane is after any dreamer; she doesn’t fully entertain bryde being one without more evidence and then in a way it’s him forcing her out of the hotel)
2 open pursuits: Farooq-Lane, Mor
2 getaway drivers: June, Parsifal
2 (pairs) with their faces identical but their hair different: June & Hennessy, Ronan and Mor’s Niall
2 (pairs) with their faces seemingly identical except on close inspection: the ‘schoolmarmish’ mask sisters, Ronan & Declan
2 faces of someone dead: Niall in Ronan, Aurora in Mor
2 times catching doubles in mirrors: Ronan & Declan in the elevator, in the hallway
ignoring how hot mr.gray looks and choosing to solely focus on the fact that declan owns what looks like a rugby shirt with lynch embroidered on it…the potential of ronan owning one too…the potential of adam borrowing it👀
the concept of writing a congressman!declan au where his entire campaign staff is the gangsey (except ronan), but honestly it’s not even about declan. it’s about adam who quickly realizes that he must’ve hit his head pretty hard to ever think working for him was a good idea.
ontario au where adam is a zamboni driver and ronan's really into it
HELP WHERE DID THIS COME FROM. i need to write nine hundred ontario aus. adam works concession at the rogers centre, ronan goes to a jays game. the lynch family owns the big apple, adam works there for the summer. the lynch family has unwavering faith to the leafs. they meet in a timmie’s line up. wow. this is gold.
i present pieces of a temporarily abandoned wip titled "what it means to wade" that explores ronan's grief amidst the joys of his first summer with adam
W͟h͟a͟t͟ ͟I͟t͟ ͟M͟e͟a͟n͟s͟ ͟t͟o͟ ͟W͟a͟d͟e͟
WADE (verb)
to walk with feet submerged in (water, a stream, etc.)
In the beginning, Adam came and went from the Barns.
He was not always there, but when he was, the house felt less empty. With Adam around, it was easier for Ronan to ignore what was missing. His parents were gone. His brothers kept their distance. That was nothing new. But now, Ronan had a reason to act like he wasn’t the last man standing.
Sure, doors stayed shut—he was Bluebeard without the wives and bent for blood. But with Adam, he could pretend they weren’t bolted. That the Barns wasn’t a tomb. That he wasn’t haunting his own house.
In those instances, grief was an aperture stuck half-closed. The dead feeling he woke up with didn’t disappear so much as lose definition. Its edges blurred under the presence of someone who didn’t solely live within the fucked-up funhouse that was his head. Someone real. Someone thinking. Someone who could touch and be touched in return.
Sometimes, Ronan feared he would wake to find it had all been a dream. That he had breathed life into a pile of dirt, had torn a whole boy from his ribs. It had happened once before, with the midwinter miracle that was the manifestation of Matthew Lynch. No one had stopped it then. Certainly, no one would stop it now.
On the worst nights, he jolted awake, sweat-soaked and breathless, and stared at the ceiling until the Shenandoah sun began its slow creep, until the death rattle of the valley’s whirling winds no longer reverberated through the ancient bones of the Barns. Those nights bled into paranoia-laced mornings. He was restless and uneasy until Adam called from the little flip phone they had found in a pile of Declan’s discarded shit and said, pick me up after my shift.
Other nights, when it was late, when Adam had come over and was too tired to drag himself back to St. Agnes, Ronan would wake—afraid, always afraid—to find Adam beside him, warm-breathed and slack-limbed in sleep. He would hover his fingers under Adam’s nose, press them against the sharp jut of his wrist. Still suspended in disbelief, Ronan would check that his own fingers were not dirt-stained. That he was not missing a rib.
Those were the bad nights that ended well. The nights when he did not wake feeling like death warmed over. When, even if he still lost an hour of sleep driving Adam back to St. Agnes, it never felt like a chore. If anything, it was the opposite. The simple fact that he got to drive Adam back at all fed into itself—a self-referential, infinite loop of satisfaction.
For the first time in a long time, Ronan found that the good outweighed the bad.
