Ronan Lynchs Mixtape - Tumblr Posts

i have an extended headcanon about ronan lynch’s taste in music. i simply refuse the idea that it’s all abrasive edm trash when we have lines like: 

“Electronic music bled into his awareness, reminding him that his body was actually in Ronan’s car. In this other place, it was easy to tell that the music was the sound of Ronan’s soul. Hungry and prayerful, it whispered of dark places, old places, fire and sex.” - The Raven King

like fuck me up that sounds unreal. 

so i’m thinking that it’s actually populated with avant-garde techno and carnal house tracks and all that aggressive, dreamy goodness: genres that ronan is actually a connoisseur of/anorak for, genres with deep historical ties with lgbt+ culture which ronan knows and feels even more at home because of, genres which the gangsey find inaccessible/repetitive/caustic/weird because they’re just not their thing. 

but they’re ronan’s and he likes it that way. 

so i’m going to start posting hc tracks i think would be on one of ronan lynch’s dream mixtapes. here’s my playlist so far.

(Tracklist under the cut - including songs that aren’t on YouTube and therefore aren’t featured in the link above - tbh i just want to highlight how spot on some of these track titles are for my purposes) 

Vanity - Arca The Man With the Deadly Dreams - Alessandro Adriani Hard - SOPHIE Violence - Andy Stott Insomnia (DANK remix) - Faithless Angry Fiddle - Randomer, Cadans Please - Blanck Mass Sleepless - Andy Stott Mantasy - Michael Mayer Acid Badger - MPIA3 Get Got - Death Grips Crawling on Bruised Knees - Pharmakon What You Do With What You Have - Blawan Cbat - Hudson Mohawke Thievery - Arca Roses - Michael Mayer Come Down to Us - Burial Last Time - Moderat Sick - Wench Orpheus - Pariah Alive - Arca We Share Our Mother’s Health - The Knife ELLE - SOPHIE I Wanna Lay with U, Till the Sun Comes Out - Black Cracker Personal Slave (feat. Charles McCloud) - Honey Dijon Dream - Torus Not In Love (feat. Robert Smith) - Crystal Castles Mask Of Claws - Purient The Fever (Aye Aye) - Death Grips Rival Dealer - Burial Hymn - Arca Silent Treatment - Blanck Mass Dogma - Objekt Mary - HOEK SsSs - SHXCXCHCXSH Warehouse - Boddika Bipp - SOPHIE Drain This Lord - SHXCXCHCXSH Love Inc. - Booka Shade Beatin’ My Dick to the Beat - Gerry Read Mutant - Arca Like A Child (Carl Craig Remix) - Junior Boys Sleep’s Daughter - Lakker Coney Island Cyclone - Rupert Cross Sinner - Arca The Mind is a Terrible Thing - London Modular Alliance Me And The Devil - Gil Scott-Heron Faith Healing - Rupert Cross Reverie - Arca Nightvision (Andy Stott Remix) - BNJM  Mausoleum - Lakker Reborn After the Road - Several Definitions You’ll Simply Never Understand the True Meaning of Sacrifice - Alessandro Adriani My Ears Hurt - Randomer No Rest (Original Mix) - FD, Fracture Horny (Original Mix) - Marco Bailey, Tom Hades Road Force - Discrete Circuit Black Ink - Airhead Bring - Randomer Desafío - Arca Numb - Andy Stott Burial - Archangel The Sun Can’t Compare (Long Version) - Larry Heard Presents Mr. White House of God - DHS All the Things - Traumprinz Tristesse - Kollektiv Turmstrasse  How Will I Copulate? - Star Slinger/Whitney Houston (Moranis Mashup)  Principles of Lust: Sadeness/Find Love/Sadeness (Reprise) - Enigma Boys Latin - Panda Bear Masturjakor (Kink & Neville Watson Remix) - DJ Sprinkles I Come By Night - Shed Aurora - Orphx Speed and Violence - Silent Servant Dormancy Survivors - Lucy & Silent Servant Baptism - Regis

New addition to Ronan Lynch’s Mixtape, for all the obvious reasons. 

New song added to my Ronan Lynch’s Mixtape headcanon playlist. I mean “Traumprinz” means “Dream Prince” so... 

New track for my Ronan Lynch’s Mixtape headcanon. But also the song/Fantasia 2000 clip combo is beautiful and makes me think of Cabeswater/tir e e’lintes/waking the third sleeper and is perfect, so jot that down.

The concept of Ronan Lynch blasting this Whitney Houtson “How Will I Know” mashup, driving too fast down abandoned country roads, thinking of Adam Parrish, is simply too much for me to handle alone.  Added to Ronan Lynch’s Mixtape. 

Say Your Prayers - Clams Casino New to my Ronan Lynch’s Mixtape headcanon playlist. 

so i’m not properly adding this to ronan lynch’s mixtape because it doesn’t fit the hc/universe of that playlist (despite the rest of sophie’s work being super suitable & featuring heavily), but if someone were to write a fluffy reuniting-after-years-apart pynch fic based on this song i would probably die  [Verse] We were young and outta control I haven't seen you since I was about, mm, sixteen years old But then you called me up the other day I was shocked, but what could I say? And your voice exactly the same And it makes me feel, makes me feel [Chorus] Oh, just like we never said goodbye When you spoke to me in that way Oh, just like we never said goodbye And it makes me feel, makes me feel [Verse] We went out the very next day You still remember my favorite place And we laughed, just like we used to And did everything we like to do And now we’re holding hands and running And it makes me feel, makes me feel [Chorus] Oh, just like we never said goodbye When you looked at me that way Oh, just like we never said goodbye And it makes me feel, makes me feel Oh, just like we never said goodbye When you held my hand that way Oh, just like we never said goodbye And it makes me feel, makes me feel [Bridge] We were young We had everything we wanted Running wild through the night We were young We had everything we needed Soon but not even me I’ve got everything that I could ever need And it makes me feel, and it makes me feel And it makes me feel, makes me feel [Chorus] Oh, just like we never said goodbye When you held my hand in that way Oh, just like we never said goodbye And it makes me feel, makes me feel [Outro] Still got that glint in your eye Like you did the very first time Oh, it's like we never said goodbye And it makes me feel, makes me feel, like everything that I could ever need And it makes me feel, and it makes me feel, like I don't ever wanna say goodbye

so i haven’t posted any ronan lynch jams in a while, and while this isn’t being added to my magnum opus ronan headcanon & playlist of alt abrasive techno & electronic music, this is 110% a bygone lynch family favourite that niall used to pump full volume to his sons at every opportunity

irish punk-grunge about the troubles, how could he not? 

even declan wasn’t able to resist howling along to “it’s the same old theme/since 1916/in your head, in your head, they’re still fighting” 

(also niall’s parenting relied heavily on proclaiming “this is not what the men of 1916 died for” whenever any of his sons did something dumb because he always thought this was hilarious sorry i don’t make the rules)  but maybe “another mother’s breaking/heart is taking over/when the violence causes silence/we must be mistaken” cuts a little too close to the bone these days 

Boys Latin

So I wanted to add Boys Latin by Panda Bear to Ronan Lynch’s Mixtape but it seemed maybe like it would be more the kind of song that would remind Ronan of Adam or that Adam would somehow share with Ronan and it’d become theirs? Idek, whatever happened, I ended up writing this fluffy 1.5k explanation fic for this v specific headcanon - enjoy.

Adam first hears the song when his stoned hipster roommate, who’s name is Jack but who everyone calls Jeg for some reason, stumbles in late at night and says “Things are about to be realised. Let’s connect.”

Adam is all aches after a long day of hard work and hard study, always finding that the height of the desks compared to the chairs in the library leaves him cramped. He tries to do the mental arithmetic to work out how much of a dent Jeg is about to put in his oncoming battle between sleep and his existence this week. But thinking sort of aches too, so he gives up and resigns himself to it, knowing that losing this minor battle won’t lose him the war.

The statement itself is not an unusual one from Jeg in its vague pretentiousness or the oddly prophetic weight he gives the words or the fine line Jeg often toes between friendly sincerity and self-important irony.

Though he is sort of right this time.

He pulls out his MacBook from under his pillow, fumbling with it, making Adam’s stomach twist with his clumsy carelessness. Of course he has a MacBook, Adam thought when he first saw it. It’s covered with aesthetic decals and skate stickers that never fail to remind him with a twang of Noah - or who Noah had been, or who he should have been able to be - but at least he’s generous with it when Adam’s temperamental secondhand laptop starts acting up.

Jeg stumbles blearily onto Adam’s bed and into Adam’s space, curling up beside him, the comfort gremlin that he is, and probably causing Adam’s sheets to reek of weed again. Jeg is liberal with touch and seems to feel that all space is communal space. Although, while he does talk a lot of shit, he can actually be quite sweet and occasionally does come out with some interesting tidbits about anything from the tenets of Anarcho-communism, to the failures of Dogme 95, or the surprising nutritional and environmental impact of rice production and how rife it is with arsenic. He also shares memes with Adam constantly, which are something he’s only had scant contact with outside of Murder Squash hell up until this point, and which Adam is slowly getting the hang of. And its nice to have a friend around, even if Adam doubts he’ll ever feel anywhere near as close to him as Gansey or Blue or Noah or Henry. Certainly not Ronan.

The first time Ronan smelt green on Adam’s sheets he quirked an eyebrow at him and said “Why Parrish, I didn’t realise how many plants you got down and dirty with these days without Cabeswater taking you for a joyride.”

Adam, hazy around the edges with sleep, and latent stress, and the proximity of his boyfriend with that unreasonably sexy smirk on his face, his very sprawl across Adam’s bed a distracting taunt, said “It’s not me, Jeg’s been rubbing himself all over them.”

Which, yeah, admittedly wasn’t the best way to go into that explanation.

Ronan had tensed, Adam had backtracked, soothed, clarified.

“So he just gets into your bed, just like that.” “Ronan, he’s just a goddamn golden retriever with a philosophical streak. He’s like a tactile, blazed beagle who likes to howl right in my ear. Thankfully not always the right one, he hasn’t quite worked it out yet and I’m not gonna help him.”

Adam may have deliberately smudged his accent a bit, may have ghosted his fingers along Ronan’s arm and tangled them with his own, in order to defuse the situation. It may have worked.

Alhough Adam still sighs at the inevitable look he’s going to receive when Ronan catches Jeg’s signature sheet-stink again.

“That sigh is an overture, man, this is the real shit, the good shit, get ready for it to hit us into orbit.” Jeg tells him sagely.

Adam isn’t sure what that means until it starts.

Jeg has YouTube open, and while the name Panda Bear rings approximately zero bells for Adam, the song’s title Boys Latin piques his interest. And as Jeg makes the video full screen and hits play, that starts to hit home for him too. It’s not a forest, but he can’t help but think of Cabeswater. Of Cabeswater pulling at him, changing him, as the guy on the screen is altered by his surroundings, his skin merging with the ecosystem. As he finds another guy who’s tied to this space too; who tangles with him. As they pull a child out who’s been hidden away, trapped there, and walk off into the sunset together, hand in hand.

And the song. The song itself is oddly haunting. Repetitive and electronic, its somehow nothing like Ronan’s music but seeped in it all the same. A smoothed-out, softer, dreamier iteration. The chanting feels like scrying, putting Adam in a trance, words half registering and then growing in impact as they’re sung again and again and again.

Beasts don't have a sec' to think, but We don't 'preciate our things, but Dark cloud descended again Has a dark cloud descended again? And a shadow moves in

There’s something so familiar in them. Nostalgic and dreadful and lovely and aching and impalpable and supernatural and significant.

When it finishes, Jeg closes over the laptop. Catching the look on Adam’s face, whatever that look may be, he nods with altogether too much gravitas and says “The. Real. Shit. We’re reborn together, man. Fucking Panda Bear. Goddamn. I feel raked over, like I just listened to Feels for the first time, you know? Goddamn.”

Adam doesn’t know. What Jeg means specifically or what is going on in general. But it’s something. Something is solidifying right at the heart of Adam Parrish to the sound of the song that’s still whirling around Adam’s head.

“He’s a goddamn king, I’m telling you, man.  God but you should listen to his earlier stuff too, like Mr Noah. ‘Cause that’s his real name. Noah. And Animal Collective. Strawberry Jam is my jam, dude-“

But Adam’s still stuck on Noah. His name is Noah. He has a song called Boys Latin. It sounds like some deep iteration of a closed off piece of Adam’s unknowable psyche. And the video, to Adam, reeks of Cabeswater and Ronan and Opal.

It sticks with him for days. For a couple of weeks. How uncannily it all aligns into the perfect constellation.

It’s when Ronan drops by in his BMW and takes him out for a meandering drive through the nearest fields he can find that Adam asks “Do you mind if I put on a song?”

Ronan, looking curious at this, nods.

And then the song fills the car, as loud as the sound system is nearly permanently set to, winding its way around them both and leaking out their rolled down windows.

Adam can’t help but watch Ronan to see if it makes impact. Biting his lip for a second when it does.

(And Ronan can’t help but watch this Adam, swaying slightly to the beat, hair blowing just so in the wind like the music is caressing him on its way out into the world. He can’t help but take a moment to absorb and catalogue this incarnation of Adam Parrish, looking unguarded and so very at home in his skin.)

They both sit hypnotised for a moment. Then Ronan asks “What is this?” “Boys Latin. By Panda Bear. Did you know his name’s actually Noah?” He asks, even though both of them were unaware that there was an artist to know this about until the song came along.

Ronan hums at that. Then he’s pulling in at the side of the road. Then he’s tugging at Adam, arranging them forehead to forehead, staring at Adam’s hands in his.

“I appreciate you.” Ronan says, quietly, Adam just managing to catch the words.

He squeezes Ronan’s hands, and says “I know.” He let’s his nose nudge against Ronan’s and breathes out “I appreciate you too. I really do.”

“This song…” Ronan trails off, and it’s Adam’s turn to hum. “It sounds…” “Yeah.” Adam says. “It does.”

Ronan looks up then, eyes startlingly clear, and Adam feels too much, feels it spilling out of him as the melody loops and loops. He surges forward as Ronan does too. He tastes salt and flesh and need on his tongue, and he can’t help but nip at Ronan’s lips. Can’t help but push deeper. Can’t help but clasp Ronan’s face between his hands, as Ronan groans softly. Can’t help but feel dizzily centred and understood and so much more than he ever thought he could be.

When he pulls back, long after the song had lapsed into silence, he doesn’t let go. “I knew you’d get it too.” Ronan raises one hand up to feel along Adam’s knuckles, still pressed against his cheek. “It sounds like you.” “It sounds like us.” Adam replies.

Ronan presses his lips against Adam’s once more, for a few delicate seconds, that seem to loop and loop once more, before he pulls back.

They slowly make their way back to campus, hands clasped together over the gear stick, and Adam still aches but he aches better.

(only love can) set you free

I wish I had the brain for in-depth meta rn but instead here I am, with a fluffy hc with side of angst

Ronan spends a large portion of their aimless drive playing some of his darker more inaccessible tracks. The angry repetition of Alessandro Adriani’s The Man With The Deadly Dreams and Shed’s I Come By Night both cut a sharper edge after a shambolic night’s sleep. Adam woke up next to him covered in blood and feathers and fear for Ronan, not of Ronan, which Ronan still can’t understand. The last straw is Orphx’s Aurora, which causes Ronan to drive a little faster these days. He becomes a storm cloud gaining momentum, eating up the landscape in his path.

Adam can take no more.

He goes for goading. Goading works for them. He aims for a rise, for a distraction.

“God, Lynch, are you aware that major chords are still a thing?”

Ronan just keeps driving. Adam doesn’t relent. “Is Murder Squash the only goddamn song that makes you smile? Actually, no. That’s a miracle in and of itself, I don’t think music could possibly bring me joy again after this, this is fucking traumatic.”

Ronan’s hands tighten on the wheel for a moment, and Adam worries he’s misjudged, that his tone didn’t hit right. He questions whether he only knows how to be sharp with the people he cares about, whether he doesn’t know how to care the right way at all.

But then Ronan let’s out a quiet breath, a huff too small to be considered anything approaching a laugh - but maybe -

Ronan looks to his phone, tapping through Spotify before returning to the task of driving. A song starts to fade in. And Adam can’t help a howl of laughter when it registers for him, feeling a dusty pink flush across his face as Ronan watches him and quirks his mouth into a smile for the first time all day.

Adam feels his heart clench as the speakers blast:

“When I wake each morning As the storm beats down on me And I know we belong together Only love can set you free”

He bites his lip and Ronan’s eyes dart for a second to follow the movement.

“Oh look, it seems you’re experiencing joy again Parrish. What a miracle. I guess I’m a fucking saint.”

You’re something alright, Adam thinks, then berates himself for how dumb of a line that is.

“Joy is pretty big.” He prods, like he always does with Ronan. Goading has got him this far, after all. “You surprised me. You don’t know if it’s joy or if I’m laughing because you’re actually a fucking sap.” “Which is it then? Why are you laughing?”

Adam stares at the full blown grin that’s taken up residence on Ronan’s face now. He takes in the tattoo peaking out of his shirt and follows it along to the newfound lightness in his shoulders. It burns him and the song fans the flames.

“Because I feel free.” He says.

From Ronan’s face, he know that’s not all he’s said. Not really. Not with this song playing. Ronan, for all his edges, looks soft at his words, warm like the late evening sun approaching the horizon ahead of them.

Ronan doesn’t know how he looks but he feels, for a moment, speechless.

The look between them is suspended in time. Both delicate and weighty. Adam wants to be careful with it, wants to keep them light together.

“Free of the demonic earache you’ve been subjecting me to this whole time.” He quips.

The moment defuses, but doesn’t dissolve as Ronan laughs. “I told you, I’m a saint, a demon comes for you and I slay its ass. No matter what.”

Ronan’s tone is as light as Adam was hoping for, but his words leave Adam feeling unmade.

And the look on Adam’s face sets Ronan free.

He drops a hand onto Adam’s, lacing their fingers together as the music plays on.

This just in: Ronan Lynch cracks out a ramshackle bodhrán occasionally when blaring techno or house full volume. He can be found lying with his legs dangling over the back of the couch and his head hanging towards the ground, beating the drum incessantly along to the music, regardless of the fact that he’s utterly useless at it.