Ronan Lynch [Before] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beochaoineadh) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2021-09-28 01:05 am
beochaoineadh) wrote in revivalproject2021-09-28 01:05 am
if you must fight, fight with yourself and your thoughts in the night
WHO: Ronan Lynch & Whoever~
WHERE: Around Temba
WHAT: general shenanigans
WHEN: Late September into October
WARNINGS: None?
i. the deep end
[ A bar is the obvious place to go when your mind's fuzzy with all sorts of thoughts and feelings that Ronan is bad at putting into words; if anything he's worse at it as he gets older. He stops by semi-frequently, though usually it's to watch the karaoke. Tonight, he just needed someplace to be that wasn't the theater and wasn't alone, telling his thoughts to the trees like the odd creature he was. Back home he'd have dragged Gansey to the back fields with a six pack of beer, and they'd have laughed and he'd have listened to him talk about Glendower just for the comfort of the sound of his voice. And when the stars lit the sky, and fireflies pulsed green and gold in streaks both short and long like morse code he couldn't be bothered to decode.. maybe then he'd have found the words to tell him about how he was feeling.
But Gansey isn't here, and he's glad for it in the moments where he isn't feeling selfish. What would he do in this place, unable to search for his dead king or his ley lines, his ghosts or black dogs? Ronan did miss him terribly some nights, though.
So instead he's at the Deep End with his second beer in his fingers and a moody sort of frown curling his mouth as he trails a finger through the condensation. But he does look around every now and then, hopeful for a face he recognizes -- he could use the company, honestly. Not because he wants someone to talk to about what's gotten under his skin, but because he's hoping for a distraction. If there is someone he's seen before, they'll get a wave of his free hand, and a smile that's a little half-hearted, or sit close to him at the bar and he'll look them over with a greeting and a tilt of his beer.
Ronan does look a little young to be drinking by most rule sets though, if anyone is inclined to comment on it. ]
ii. blue-3; the theater
[ Ronan is rather fond of the theater that he's been sharing with Kavinsky more or less since he arrived in this place. Jack is curled up a few yards away, either napping or watching the dark-haired boy as he works. They've been renovating the place since they moved in, of course. The most obvious are the lights that float around the exterior, only really visible at night. Like fireflies but without the creature attached -- just light. At the moment he seems almost frustrated, though less with his current project- something involving flowers?- and more something internal, judging by how he seems fairly lost in thought. Which is maybe not the best idea when standing on the roof of the theater admittedly, but he seems to be handling himself just fine. So far, anyway.
There's a small blue bloom in his hands, and when he places it, vines crawl down the side of the building, and for a moment Ronan grins, before his face falls and he shakes his head, dragging fingers through his hair as his sharp blue eyes look off toward the sunset. He hasn't been avoiding Kavinsky or anything like that -- it'd be hard anyway, considering that they live together and all of that. But he's been a little bit awkward recently. He has feelings and he doesn't really know what to do with them, so instead he's out here, sitting on the edge of the roof with a sigh. He doesn't look up or notice that he's not alone until Jack barks, and then he looks up a little bit awkwardly, a wave of his fingers.]
Oh, hey.
iii. civic center
[ He's been spending a bit more time at the civic center than usual lately.
What he really wants is a fucking punching bag. And honestly, he really could just dream one, but instead he settles for doing laps of the obstacle course, pushing himself until his hair sticks to his forehead and he's fighting for breath. Catch him afterwards, leaning against the wall as he sips at his water. His emotions are still a mess, of course, but the physicality at least distracts him from thinking about things for a while. And that's something, at least.
He looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone in the dojo or who otherwise looks like some sort of fighter. Because just exercising isn't really enough to clear his head. He'll walk over, a slight nod of his head in quiet acknowledgement. ]
You wanna spar a few rounds?
iv. wildcard
[ choose your own adventure with a moody teenager ;) but no in seriousness toss me whatever and I'll run with it. PM or hit me up at safeaslife#0150 if you want to work out something specific! ]
WHERE: Around Temba
WHAT: general shenanigans
WHEN: Late September into October
WARNINGS: None?
i. the deep end
[ A bar is the obvious place to go when your mind's fuzzy with all sorts of thoughts and feelings that Ronan is bad at putting into words; if anything he's worse at it as he gets older. He stops by semi-frequently, though usually it's to watch the karaoke. Tonight, he just needed someplace to be that wasn't the theater and wasn't alone, telling his thoughts to the trees like the odd creature he was. Back home he'd have dragged Gansey to the back fields with a six pack of beer, and they'd have laughed and he'd have listened to him talk about Glendower just for the comfort of the sound of his voice. And when the stars lit the sky, and fireflies pulsed green and gold in streaks both short and long like morse code he couldn't be bothered to decode.. maybe then he'd have found the words to tell him about how he was feeling.
But Gansey isn't here, and he's glad for it in the moments where he isn't feeling selfish. What would he do in this place, unable to search for his dead king or his ley lines, his ghosts or black dogs? Ronan did miss him terribly some nights, though.
So instead he's at the Deep End with his second beer in his fingers and a moody sort of frown curling his mouth as he trails a finger through the condensation. But he does look around every now and then, hopeful for a face he recognizes -- he could use the company, honestly. Not because he wants someone to talk to about what's gotten under his skin, but because he's hoping for a distraction. If there is someone he's seen before, they'll get a wave of his free hand, and a smile that's a little half-hearted, or sit close to him at the bar and he'll look them over with a greeting and a tilt of his beer.
Ronan does look a little young to be drinking by most rule sets though, if anyone is inclined to comment on it. ]
ii. blue-3; the theater
[ Ronan is rather fond of the theater that he's been sharing with Kavinsky more or less since he arrived in this place. Jack is curled up a few yards away, either napping or watching the dark-haired boy as he works. They've been renovating the place since they moved in, of course. The most obvious are the lights that float around the exterior, only really visible at night. Like fireflies but without the creature attached -- just light. At the moment he seems almost frustrated, though less with his current project- something involving flowers?- and more something internal, judging by how he seems fairly lost in thought. Which is maybe not the best idea when standing on the roof of the theater admittedly, but he seems to be handling himself just fine. So far, anyway.
There's a small blue bloom in his hands, and when he places it, vines crawl down the side of the building, and for a moment Ronan grins, before his face falls and he shakes his head, dragging fingers through his hair as his sharp blue eyes look off toward the sunset. He hasn't been avoiding Kavinsky or anything like that -- it'd be hard anyway, considering that they live together and all of that. But he's been a little bit awkward recently. He has feelings and he doesn't really know what to do with them, so instead he's out here, sitting on the edge of the roof with a sigh. He doesn't look up or notice that he's not alone until Jack barks, and then he looks up a little bit awkwardly, a wave of his fingers.]
Oh, hey.
iii. civic center
[ He's been spending a bit more time at the civic center than usual lately.
What he really wants is a fucking punching bag. And honestly, he really could just dream one, but instead he settles for doing laps of the obstacle course, pushing himself until his hair sticks to his forehead and he's fighting for breath. Catch him afterwards, leaning against the wall as he sips at his water. His emotions are still a mess, of course, but the physicality at least distracts him from thinking about things for a while. And that's something, at least.
He looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone in the dojo or who otherwise looks like some sort of fighter. Because just exercising isn't really enough to clear his head. He'll walk over, a slight nod of his head in quiet acknowledgement. ]
You wanna spar a few rounds?
iv. wildcard
[ choose your own adventure with a moody teenager ;) but no in seriousness toss me whatever and I'll run with it. PM or hit me up at safeaslife#0150 if you want to work out something specific! ]
i
One of these days maybe I'll find something like peanuts, but these'll do, right? I got cookies and bantha jerky, otherwise.
How's it going? You ever get those puppy toys?
no subject
I dunno, I always thought pretzels were the better option anyway, to tell you the truth. Unless they're chocolate-covered ones, anyway. What sort of cookies d'you have, anyway?
[You know, just out of curiosity. Not like he has a sweet tooth (he totally does). He takes a takes a sip off his beer, raising it in something that isn't quite a toast as the Exo fills his own glass.]
A rather saucy rubber chicken in a bikini. Jack loves it; I sort of wince every time I see the thing. I picked up a few other toys that aren't as weird, though.
[As for how he's doing-- that's sort of a complicated question that he doesn't quite know how to answer. Prickly and moody, and half-overwhelmed with his own feelings. Doesn't know how to handle Kavinsky, who he's been living with for the past few months. And it sort of makes him want to punch something. But he also sort of wants to kiss the other boy.
Usual teenage problems -- not that Ronan is aware enough to realize that.]
I'm okay, I guess. Nothing's tried to kill me lately, anyway.
no subject
Space cookies. Well okay, not exactly, but they're pretty generic. Maybe more like a wafer?
[He arches a brow then before ducking his head in a snicker, shaking his head.]
Ah, classic Agrii misinterpretation.
Nothin' trying to kill you is always good.
ii
[It was a standard greeting coming from Kavinsky, more fond than anything, but he was a little...not upset, exactly. He wouldn't know how to describe it. It was just a feeling and it was there. Had he done something wrong? He'd been running through a list of his most recent actions in his head, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary for the two of them.
And yet he hadn't had a meaningful conversation with Ronan in a little while. Sure, they talked; it was hard not to when they lived together, but.
It was proof of how much he cared about Ronan that he gave a shit about potentially having done something wrong. Anybody else, he wouldn't even consider it. He'd just tell them to kiss his ass and flip them off. Ronan had always been special, though.]
And hello to you, too.
[This time he was talking to Jack, petting the dog on the head before sitting down next to Ronan. He nudged him with his shoulder--Ronan, not Jack.]
What's up?
no subject
He sighs softly as the other boy nudges him with his shoulder, but he leans in and returns the gesture quietly; shoulder to shoulder. At the question he looks away from Kavinsky and focuses on the small spheres of light that are just visible as sunlight turns to twilight. His pulse skips a little, either from tension or something closer to desire, but more than that, more than just attraction.
He wants to ask him what this is, if they're dating, or just- but he doesn't have the words, doesn't know how to express the tension under his skin in a way where he wont feel stupid about it. He thinks he cares more than he should; but he's always been like this, hasn't he? The realization had been a slow thing, but now he doesn't know what to fucking do with it. He'd almost rather pick a fight, because that at least would be easy with boys like them, but fighting isn't really what he wants.]
Just- you know. You notice the vines? Not much in terms of security, but it's a start.
[He'd asked for something that wouldn't hurt him or the ones he cared about. He assumed it worked like it had in the dream, but he didn't exactly have anything for a demonstration.
It's also not really what he thinks Kavinsky is asking about.]
no subject
I noticed.
[It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. He'd have to get on dreaming them some security measures himself, but that wasn't his biggest concern right now. Right now he wanted to know what was going on in Ronan's head, which he knew wasn't always an easy thing to determine.]
But that's not even close to what I meant.
[He wanted to tell the other boy to stop being weird and just tell him what was on his mind, but. He didn't want to put him on the defensive. If gentle prying didn't work, then he'd take the straightforward and blunt route.]
no subject
What he was feeling was... he didn't know. Messier. What did he want? He didn't know. He wanted a fight, he wanted to make out with him until he couldn't breathe, he wanted a bottle of something harder than cheap beer he could drink until he couldn't speak. He just wanted.]
I know.
[There should be words there, something to fill the silence, but instead Ronan lapses into quiet, trying to figure out what it is that he wants to say. But it's complicated, the uncertainty and the want that trembles in his chest. How the fuck is he supposed to put it into words? That he doesn't know what this is between them and he wants to? It feels too much like a surrender or something soft. And why does it matter, anyway? He doesn't fucking know.
He does grab Kavinsky's hand, though. A little too tight, almost like anger instead of affection as he presses their hands together; fingertips-to-fingertips.]
no subject
Reaching over with his other hand, a little awkwardly, he slid his fingers through Ronan's hair, tugging gently.]
So? Are you going to tell me what's up or do I have to coax it out of you?
['Coax' usually meant 'beat', but in this case it meant...he didn't know, actually. The older Ronan, the one he was used to, him he would have fought for an answer. But this Ronan? He didn't know. Sometimes, he enjoyed a good mystery, he liked not knowing. Not knowing how to get answers out of the boy was one thing. Not knowing what was on his mind was frustrating. Especially for someone who'd been in his head, literally, not just once but twice.]
no subject
Fuck, Josey. I don't know- I just want--
[Ronan makes a sound of frustration, steadies his breath, and when he looks at Kavinsky it's softer. Not quite apologetic, but it hovers on the edge of it, fond and complicated in a way he doesn't think that he'd know how to articulate or to explain. So instead he just leans in closer. He doesn't try to kiss him, but instead just leans into his shoulder, his free hand brushing against his side. He doesn't know what the other boy wants this thing between them to be, but how is he supposed to say that?]
I'm greedy.
no subject
He tucked his face into Ronan's hair, pressing a kiss to his head. It was so rare for him to feel content without drugs or cars involved; he desperately wanted to hold onto it. Even more desperately than he wanted to know what Ronan was thinking. It didn't sound like he was mad at Kavinsky, at least.]
You're going to have to be a little clearer than that.
[He said into Ronan's hair before turning his head to the side. Whatever Ronan wanted, Kavinsky wanted to give to him. Unless it was for him to leave him alone. He didn't think he could manage that.]
Also, it's normal to want things; it just means you're alive.
no subject
Are we-- are we dating? I mean.. Fuck. Do you want to? I guess.
[And maybe Kavinsky can hear the awkwardness with his own vulnerability that comes with asking for it. If this was Ronan from later, he would have flinched from it. Covered it over with cruelty, pushed away to hide the fact that he wanted to hold him close. Now, he doesn't let go. He curls his fingers a little tighter into his side, only pulls back enough to fix blue eyes on his face.
He can't help feeling like he's asking for more than he should, but the words it's normal to want things almost- almost- sounds like a sort of permission. So he doesn't flinch or try to take it back, even if part of him wants to, he just leaves it on the air and tries to stomach the way his body tenses at the uncertainty.]
no subject
Yeah. I do.
[He curled his arm around Ronan's shoulders, pulling him into some kind of awkwardly positioned hug.
Shit had gone to hell before, but he wouldn't let it this time. He might not have learned his lesson about everything, but he was going to tread a little more carefully, protect what he had. He would have done the same back home if- All he'd wanted was Ronan.]
You could've brought this up sooner, you know. I don't bite unless you ask me to.
[Alright, that wasn't entirely true. He had a reputation and he'd earned it, but there was a fondness to his cruelty when it came to the people he'd pulled close to him. Most of the time he couldn't help it. It was the way he'd had to become to be strong enough to survive. But there was gentleness in him, too, in brief, fleeting flashes.]
no subject
Jerk.
[But it's affectionate, and he shifts towards Kavinsky to try and make the way that they lean together a bit less awkward, so he can slide his arm around him too. It's a nice thought, a pleasant feeling that flares in his chest to know for sure. Because he wanted it, too. He liked whatever this was between them, and he can't help grinning up at Kavinsky, that glow in his eyes shifting all the way toward pleasure as he leans into his shoulder with a slight tip of his head.]
I just-- I didn't want to fuck it up.
[Easier in some ways, but emotion is still a difficult thing for him. Under his skin, in his veins, and Kavinsky gets to him in ways he doesn't entirely understand. But it makes him greedy, hungry for more. He's different than he had expected, and he doesn't know if that's being away from Aglionby, or that this strange place gives them both the space to find the layers under the harder edges. He knew K could be cruel, but there was more to him than just that.
He quiets for a moment, just holding onto him and letting the feeling of it soak into his skin. He hadn't had a boyfriend before, even if the attraction had been there, and he slides his fingers into K's hair with a hum of amusement on his mouth.]
Yeah? D'you want to?
[He can't resist teasing him a little- even if it's mostly to cover his own flutters. It was something he couldn't help wanting to keep.]
no subject
I don't know if you could fuck it up. [He admitted with a little shrug.] You could throw me away and I'd still come back to you if you asked.
[They hadn't always been nice to each other, he remembered that even if Ronan didn't right now. Kavinsky remembered the hurled insults, the fists, the occasional bloodshed. None of it had deterred him in the end. Even if some of the things Ronan had said to him still stung no matter how much he tried to tell himself they didn't.
His train of thought was blissfully derailed when Ronan slid his fingers into his hair. A little shiver ran down his spine and he leaned into the touch.]
What, bite you? I always want to do that.
no subject
So there's the selfish side of him that's almost glad for it, even if he doesn't know the context, the insults or thrown fists between them. Doesn't know the parties and the racing and the thrill, either. Because he knows he's a mess, and somehow the idea that Kavinsky is willing to weather him at his most Ronan feels like a balm he couldn't have even thought to ask for.]
I don't think I could throw you away. Not really. No matter what I said, I think I'd still want you.
[The words are quiet. Not quite a promise, but they're-- something. He means it, sliding his fingers through the other boys' hair, just enjoying the moment and the way that it feels. Not that they haven't touched before this, but it feels different when there's words to it. Things like dating and his boyfriend.
He leans in, nuzzling lightly into Kavinsky's jaw with a smile that's just a little provocative. It's a better line of thought than the other one.]
So bite me.
no subject
It was still nice to hear that Ronan would probably always want him, especially since this was a younger Ronan. Kavinsky still didn't understand how that worked but at this point, he didn't care.]
Good. That's all I want.
[The other boy's touch felt so comforting that he was reluctant to pull away, but he did after a moment. Untangling them from their still-slightly-awkward position, he pushed Ronan down onto his back so Kavinsky could straddle him. His gaze flickered from Ronan's mouth to his neck and back again before he leaned down and kissed him. Every kiss felt like the first time; there was a certain thrill to it, a pleased, warm feeling.
He didn't linger on the kiss though, pulling back after a moment to nuzzle against Ronan's neck, lips brushing over his skin. He didn't fuck around, though he was tempted to; he just bit him, hard enough to sting a little.]
no subject
He can't imagine giving him up. He can imagine the fact that they're both difficult people, and he knows that as good as this is it wont always be perfect. But he can't imagine not wanting Kavinsky, the way that he makes him feel. The sensation of not being alone, of being wanted, of the way his breath caught when he looked at Ronan and smiled.
Kavinsky unravels their position, pushing Ronan down, and the younger teen doesn't resist- a slight curve to his mouth as he looks up at the other boy, curls unruly around his face. His breath catching softly, and he just lets his hands shift, curling to rest his fingers at the other teen's waist. And then Kavinsky kisses him, and he leans into the contact, a flutter of his eyelashes at the feeling. He thinks he might be addicted to it, honestly- the way their mouths fit together, pleasure and heat, the way it makes his pulse race. The way that Kavinsky kisses him like they're both allowed to be sweeter people.
His boyfriend doesn't draw out the kiss this time, though. Nuzzling into Ronan's neck, a slight slide of his lips, and then he bites him and he shivers, gasps at the feeling. It's hard enough to sting, but it makes him so very aware of Kavinsky's mouth against his neck, of his own body, of how they touch. It aches a little, a lingering throb on his skin; more like pleasure than pain, almost like fireworks.]
Josey--
[He's flushed, and the way that he calls his name sounds undone, a little bit helpless as he slides his fingers up his spine. Ronan had intended to do it over the boy's shirt, but missed the hem and wasn't about to pause midway. Especially not when he has K's skin under his fingers.]
no subject
His skin flushed at the sound of the nickname and he couldn't resist the urge to roll his hips down. He'd shown a lot of restraint over the weeks with the sheer fact he hadn't given in and fucked Ronan senseless. And even then it was only because he was so much younger than Kavinsky, gentler. He didn't want to push him too far too fast, especially if they were only now getting to the topic of dating.
Leaning on his forearms, he curled his fingers into Ronan's hair, took a deep breath. He admired the impression of his teeth on Ronan's skin and fought the urge to dive back in and suck a bruise onto the same spot. At the same time, he was]
Fuck, you're hot.
[It wasn't news to him; Ronan had always been hot. He was hot now, sweet and almost innocent, and he was hotter later, with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue. He was everything Kavinsky wanted, everything he needed.
Kavinsky's flirting had always been cruel, taunts and insults, fists, but the attraction had always been there, the desire to pull Ronan into his circle. It wasn't even that he didn't like all of Ronan's friends, it was just that he didn't like Gansey. Gansey was Ronan's impulse control, the one who held his leash, and Kavinsky hated it. Ronan didn't need a leash. A collar, sure, but not a leash.]
i
And yet the Archivist hasn't really been making use of it for some time now. Instead, he has come to visit for the sole purpose of observing. Observing those who come here for the drinks or meet their fellow residents of Temba. Some of them are Jon's friends. But there are also some among these people that have grown wary of the Archivist's watchful gaze.
He does his best to blink from time to time, though. These moments of blindness may be brief, and yet Jon hates them. They make him feel as if he has just missed something. Something he won't be able to see.
Jon very much sees Ronan, however. He settles with watching the young man for a while before actually approaching. ]
Care for some company?
III Of Course
The human child?
Surely there was someone behind her that he was talking to, so Lauri looked over her shoulder. Alright then. No one there.]
I do not believe I know you.
exactly who I was thinking of when I wrote it, negl <3
Oh, I'm Ronan. Only been here a couple months.
[There's a shrug of his shoulders; almost six feet even at fifteen, he's still usually one of the taller people in a room. So standing next to Lauri-Ell is a notable shift, but he doesn't really mind it-- she certainly looks like she knows how to handle herself, and that's really what he's looking for.
He doesn't seem particularly bothered by the fact that she's not human, but then one of his oldest friends was a young girl with furred hooves and sharp teeth. So blue skin wasn't really that weird to him.]
You looked like you might be good enough to keep up.
[Nothing against Steve, of course, but there was something simmering in his chest. He wanted someone like Declan or his father, where he wouldn't have to watch himself, where he could burn it out, at least for a little while. Especially since he was bad at careful to begin with.]
no subject
You are a human, yes? Are you a human super soldier? You look small for one.
[Yes, she was absolutely judging his prowess]
I normally take people who are new through training steps first.
III But editing it to make it more realistic
Sure, he doesn't spar much and suspects Bucky took it easy on him when they boxed but Steve is defiant and confident as he walks over and smiles.]
I'll do it. I have been looking to find someone to work with.
this is perfect!!!
Most people didn't grow up being taught to box like Lynches were. Ronan had been horrified and Gansey had laughed, begging for another round. He looks Steve over a second time and shrugs his shoulders with a sigh.]
Yeah? Well, if you're sure.
[His smile is warm and he makes an inviting gesture as he heads back to the center of the mat to give them some space. Ronan is just about 5'10", his build wiry; lacking the solid muscle he'll put on in the next few years. But he holds himself like someone familiar with throwing a punch. Steve will probably recognize his stance, classic boxer's pose that it is.]
Show me what you can do.
no subject
Boxing is a good sport, even for small, weaker guys like Steve. What he lacks in brute strength he can make up for in speed and dodging. It's clear that is going to be his strategy as he stays on the edge of the other boy's reach, bouncing a little between his feet. ]
Don't take it easy on me, okay? I'll know if you do.
[ And with that he moved in, using his lack of height to jab toward the boy's side with all his 95lbs behind it. ]