thisavrou_log | away with us he's going, the solemn-eyed.

Who: Residents of St. Monmouth & OPEN to their various guests
When: Throughout February
Where: St. Monmouth in Kauto R2
What: The Backstreet Boys move into their magical farm of dreams.
Warnings: Look to the subject headers.
Notes: This is a mingle/catch-all log. Start your own threads! Tag around!

[Ronan didn't hesitate. Almost as soon as they arrived, he was making arrangements and picking out a plot of land. No payment necessary as long as he agreed to feed the locals? Fine. Perfect. He'd signed whatever he had to and picked out his favorite place in the lot, then he'd laid down in the grass and dreamt.

When he closed his eyes, he wasn't sure what he would build. The idea of "home" conjured up so many images in his mind. He thought of the Barns, of course, but also of Henrietta as a whole. He thought of Monmouth Manufacturing and dusty old books and the scent of mint. He thought of St. Agnes and its magnificent stained glass and the cramped coziness of Adam's bedroom above the office. He found Cabeswater sprouting up in the strangest places as the landscape shifted around him, spilling out of the walls and claiming rooms all for its own. Corridors and staircases emerged out of his memories, leading him through a maze of rooms both familiar and not-quite. In the end, when Ronan stepped outside to take a look at his work, he found he'd made himself a palace of nostalgia. Then he imagined a set of house keys, turned the lock of the front door, and woke up.

Ronan woke with his head resting on the welcome mat, sprawled across the front steps, gazing up at the spire of what he would dub St. Monmouth. It would be the main building of several he'd end up creating. Their new home.

Like God, he didn't rest for several days. Every time he shut his eyes, he devoted himself to dreaming something new. A farm needed animals and crops and barns and feed and equipment. Home needed streams and fish and bridges and flower gardens and glittering lights. He let his imagination run wild, and this meant that his dream things often emerged strange and senseless, but that reminded him of his father, which made the place more beautiful.

When he was finally satisfied - although not completely finished - he invited the others to join him.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh. [ andyr pauses a moment, glancing back towards the stables, and the horses roaming around in the pasture outside, considering. ] I dunno. The horses seem a little too, I dunno. Smart to ride.

[ he feels like he would be offending the horses. the cows don't seem to give a crap about him. ]

You know you don't have to keep making me stuff, right? This whole place, it's more than any of us could ever want.

[The idea that horses might be too smart to ride is one of the funniest, most nonsensical worries Ronan's heard. Laughing, he shakes his head. He's already decided on something that should make Andyr feel better about the whole thing.]

A farm needs animals.

[More seriously:]

And you deserve everything I can give you.

[Especially while dreaming is still something he can do. The landscape of his dreams keeps shifting, and there's no telling when the demon's infection might catch up to him. It feels vital to dream as much as he can before his dreams become fatal again.]

[ something wells up in andyr's chest, emotion trying to crawl up just throat, and at once he's not sure how he got here, in this beautiful place, with these incredible people. Not sure when his life turned from a waking nightmare to a literal dream.

But he knows he's grateful for it, more than he knows how to say. Words like 'love' aren't terribly easy for Andyr to say out loud, as if terrified someone or something will overhear and take it from him. But god knows he loves this place, and he loves these people, and he loves Ronan fucking Lynch.

Andyr crosses from the cow, moving around to step up to Ronan, and slip his arms around the boy's waist, face tucking into his shoulder, Andyr just quiet and clinging for a passing moment or so. ]

Feels like home. [ whether he means the place as a whole, or Ronan himself, isn't clear, but the sentiment is there. ] Thank you.

[That's the objective: To give Andyr a home. Ronan wraps his arms around Andyr in turn, one hand drifting up to run his fingers through Andyr's hair and cradle him close. Since Ronan arrived on the Moira, no one has been kinder to him than Andyr. It only makes sense to return the gesture in every way he can.]

Don't thank me yet. The pony might turn out super ugly.

[ andyr snorts against the side of ronan's neck, trying to think of how ronan's going to make a cow-pony, and imagining, yeah, it's going to look fucking ridiculous. and andyr's going to love the hell out of it anyway. ]

Maybe I like ugly stuff. [ saying it like maybe it's a dig, oh ho ho, except ronan's freaking beautiful and they both know that'd be a goddamn lie. ] Most fish are ugly as hell.

[ and we all know how much andyr likes fish. ]

[Ronan supposes he must be beautiful, because people react to him as if he is, but it's not a word he'd assign to himself. Particularly after all the self-mutilation and the decision to shave off his previously luxurious hair. If Andyr or anyone else called him ugly in a sincere way, the insult would roll right off of him. Of course I am, he would think.]

What are you talking about? Fish look awesome.

[Especially the bettas. Or maybe Ronan has an attraction to things that love to fight.]

[ ronan looks exactly how andyr thinks he ought to, if he were to have met the man as an abstract personality that slowly formed into a human being. all sharp edges, with a wicked intelligence and a design that's just so, but with a softness in his eyes, along the corner of his lips, the way his shoulders hold. he's not sure if it's just the aesthetic he's so found of, or the fact it's so right, but either way, ronan is drop dead gorgeous to him. ]

Did I never tell you about deep sea Anglers?

[ bae, no. bae, just run. run so far away. this story made nick gant cry and also broke his dick. ]

Is that the one with the gnarly teeth?

[Because if it is, Ronan's already super into it. He happens to love even his night horrors, as long as they're obeying him and not trying to claw out his eyes.]

Yeah. Also the one where the male fuses it's face to the female when it mates. Just live like that for the rest of forever, releasing sperm when she releases eggs.

[ they're gross and creepy and ridiculous and andyr loves them and their hideous existence. ]

See? This is why heterosexuality should be outlawed.

[Ronan feels secure in his safety.]

[ andyr's head tips back, a loud laugh leaving him - the kind of carefree, cheerful thing he seems to only be capable of now and again. typically, when ronan lynch is around. reaching up, his palms press to either of ronan's cheeks, squishing his face and shaking his head side to side. ]

So cute. Look at you, you sour little shit. Adorable.

[Ronan adores that laugh. He wishes it wasn't so rare, and yes, he does his very best to get it out of Andyr as often as he can. But now that Andyr's doing that cheek-squishing thing, Ronan shakes himself just free enough to sink his teeth into one of Andyr's hands. Just a playful bite. Stop messing with the snake.]

[ but messing with the snake is his favorite. and wow, biting people is his thing, how dare you??

andyr wiggles his hand back and forth, like playing tug with a dog, but is too stubborn to just let it go, so instead, he leans forward, and chomps his teeth down on ronan's shoulder. nothing hard, though his teeth are sharper than they ought to be, just playing. ]

[It's Ronan's turn to laugh, which incidentally means he ends up releasing Andyr's hand from his jaw's grip. That's alright, because it leaves him a bit freer to maneuver around, slipping both his arms around Andyr in what seems like a hug at first.

But then it turns out he's wrestling, and wheeling Andyr around in preparation for a bodyslam. The time to stop biting is right about now.]

[ Andyr hardly does anything without a fight, ever the competitive child, and this is no different. Once hugging turns into wrestling, Andyr's arms wrap around Ronan's shoulders, gripping his wrists behind his back and holding tight. A leg lifts up to hook around the back of Ronan's, and his teeth press down just a little harder, clearly intent on staying.

If Ronan tosses him, he'd better plan on coming with him to the ground. ]

away with us he's going, the solemn-eyed.

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