ronmanmob

[ronmanmob]

Ahoy pals, Apologies for the not being here - my mental health just hasn't been what it could be and I needed a Hot Minute There. Getting back on track now, so will be slowly picking things back up. Lovings like always, Pumpkinmun

[ronmanmob]

A LIST OF CASUAL YET INTIMATE INTERACTIONS

sender to receiver:

[ HOOK ] sender hooking a finger beneath receiver's jaw

[ PINCH ] sender holding receiver's chin between their thumb and forefinger

[ LOOK ] sender holding receiver's jaw and turning their head to look at them

[ PICK ] sender telling receiver to "hold still" while they remove something from their hair

[ GRAZE ] sender brushes their fingertip back and forth along receiver's jaw while they listen to receiver talk

[ DIRECT ] sender seeing that receiver is going the wrong way, takes hold of their shoulders from behind and turns them the right direction

[ BACK ] sender grabs receiver's wrist and tugs them closer when receiver tries to walk away.

[ TOY ] sender fidgets with something receiver is wearing while receiver talks to them

[ STROKE ] sender absentmindedly plays with receiver's hair while they're focused on another task

[ DEPART ] sender is saying goodbye and kisses receiver's forehead

[ DRESS ] sender without prompting helps receiver put on a jacket

[ UNDRESS ] sender helps receiver remove an article of clothing or jewelry

[ REFILL ] sender refills receiver's drink before they can ask or do it themselves

[ FIX ] sender cleans something off of receiver's face

[ RUB ] sender places their hand around the back of receiver's neck, rubbing their thumb just under their ear

[ PULL ] sender sits next to receiver and places their arm around their shoulders, gently pulling them into their side

[ BECKON ] sender sees receiver and lifts their arm up so they can come hug/cuddle them

[ GLIDE ] sender is gently rubbing/scratching receivers back and rubs their knuckle down their spine to the small of their back

[ CHEER ] seeing that receiver is scowling, sender rubs their thumb over the furrow between receiver's brows

[ TUCK ] sender finds receiver asleep somewhere and puts a blanket or their own coat over them

[ TRACE ] sender brushes their fingers along receiver's forehead, temple and cheekbone

[ BRUSH ] sender brushes their hand up and down receiver's arm as they walk past them

[ KEEP ] sender holds receiver's arm just above the elbow while they're talking or to get their attention

[ LEAN ] sender looks over receiver's shoulder who is sitting, placing a hand on their desk while receiver shows them something

[ NUDGE ] sender grabs the chair receiver is sitting in and pulls it closer

[ LISTEN ] sender is listening to receiver talk and picks up an object that belongs to receiver to fidget with

[ SEARCH ] sender searches out receiver's gaze in a crowded room either for approval or to check if they're okay

[ SMOOTH ] sender smooths their thumb over receiver's eyebrow

[ SLIP ] sender places their hand in receiver's back pocket while they walk together

receiver to sender:

[ HOOKING ] receiver hooking a finger beneath sender's jaw

[ PINCHING ] receiver holding sender's chin between their thumb and forefinger

[ LOOKING ] receiver holding sender's jaw and turning their head to look at them

[ PICKING ] receiver telling sender to "hold still" while they remove something from their hair

[ GRAZING ] receiver brushes their fingertip back and forth along sender's jaw while they listen to sender talk

[ DIRECTING ] receiver seeing that sender is going the wrong way, takes hold of their shoulders from behind and turns them the right direction

[ BACKING ] receiver grabs sender's wrist and tugs them closer when sender tries to walk away.

[ TOYING ] receiver fidgets with something sender is wearing while sender talks to them

[ STROKING ] receiver absentmindedly plays with sender's hair while they're focused on another task

[ DEPARTING ] receiver is saying goodbye and kisses sender's forehead

[ DRESSING ] receiver without prompting helps sender put on a jacket

[ UNDRESSING ] receiver helps sender remove an article of clothing or jewelry

[ REFILLING ] receiver refills sender's drink before they can ask or do it themselves

[ FIXING ] receiver cleans something off of senders face

[ RUBBING ] receiver places their hand around the back of receiver's neck, rubbing their thumb just under their ear

[ PULLING ] receiver sits next to sender and places their arm around their shoulders, gently pulling them into their side

[ BECKONING ] receiver sees sender and lifts their arm up so they can come hug/cuddle them

[ GLIDING ] receiver is gently rubbing/scratching sender's back and rubs their knuckle down their spine to the small of their back

[ CHEERING ] seeing that sender is scowling, receiver rubs their thumb over the furrow between sender's brows

[ TUCKING ] receiver finds sender asleep somewhere and puts a blanket or their own coat over them

[ TRACING ] receiver brushes their fingers along sender's forehead, temple and cheekbone

[ BRUSHING ] receiver brushes their hand up and down sender's arm as they walk past them

[ KEEPING ] receiver holds sender's arm just above the elbow while they're talking or to get their attention

[ LEANING ] receiver looks over sender's shoulder who is sitting, placing a hand on their desk while sender shows them something

[ NUDGING ] receiver grabs the chair sender is sitting in and pulls it closer

[ LISTENING ] receiver is listening to sender talk and picks up an object that belongs to sender to fidget with

[ SEARCHING ] receiver seeks out sender's gaze in a crowded room either for approval or to check that they're okay

[ SMOOTHING ] receiver smooths their thumb over sender's eyebrow

[ SLIPPING ] receiver places their hand in sender's back pocket while they're walking

[ronmanmob]

Drawn by Tony's touch on his hand and on his back the way he might be by a tide to shore, Ron moved as the other man bade him; peppering his neck with kisses 'til Tony shifted, fighting with denim as valiantly as the boy-king Baldwin of Jerusalem once had against his rival Saladin. A stalemate at the knees drew Ron up from his devotions, Tony's words and caressing fingers making the choice between providing reinforcements against their mutual scourge and staying exactly where he was near impossible to make. In the end though-

"Take me apart, Ron."

-that tore it. After guiding Tony's stroking hand into a slow, tight and then loosening squeeze as he caressed him, Ron eased the touch away just long enough to tug Tony's jeans off fully and then to stand and rid himself of his own as well. The contrast between them by sight was stark - Tony's height and long, lean limbs far different from Ron's stockier, brawler's frame - but while self-consciousness still pricked at him, Ron didn't rush to hide those bits of himself he felt scorn towards. He and Tony had built all they shared yet on honesty after all. Hiding…That weren't allowed.

So he didn't.

For the couple of seconds his patience for being off Tony lasted Ron stood, his back straight, arms relaxed at his sides, and let the other man read his life off the look of him. The thick shoulders and thighs told years of tales about shifting weight uncounted in crates and barrels as he grafted, hard at work always. The strong arms and chest on him did the same, and alluded as well to the sportsman-warrior he had been and still was; just like the touch of extra weight he carried round his middle did. Ron's strength, though visible in places, weren't in others and his stomach was one'a them. A gentle touch there would find firm skin but softness. But press in a half inch and there found would be muscle's dense lay beneath the surface.

Privately Ron hoped he was all Tony'd imagined he'd be, for suits and fine tailoring could hide a multitude of sins. Before this notion could settle in and prick Ron's self-consciousness again though, what patience he'd had for distance from Tony vanished. A half-step forward and his hands were on the other man, guiding him so they could recline in what little space the couch allowed them - Tony's knees parted round Ron's hips and Ron braced on his hands over him, one foot planted on the floor for steadiness and comfort as they relaxed into each other.

And as they did, Ron's entire world became tactile.

The feeling of the backs of Tony's thighs against the fore of his; Tony's hands coming up to hold him once more as Ron leant in and kissed him, licking into his mouth when their hips aligned just so; their erections brushing, making him moan-- It would've been so easy to leap ahead then, passions high; to forego what he'd quipped about courses and just…What had Tony said?

Break in his new mattress?

But…for all Ron's body wanted that, the rest of him wanted for exploration, for love-making not a meaningless fuck, and so, when they paused between kisses to breathe in each other's breath, heads tilted, lips open, Ron leant into the tenderness that seemed to come easy to him when he was with Tony and spoke that feeling into the other man's skin with his lips, and his hands, and the rest.

Beginning just beneath his jaw, Ron caressed his lover's throat with pliant lips; likewise his sternum and his pectorals - each nipple teased pink and flushed by lips and the implication of teeth that eased off only when Ron raised his head enough to purr-

"Keep y'ands on me if y'can luv--"

-but not because Tony had let go of him. Far from it. It was connection Ron was building with that gentle turn of phrase, mental and emotional as well as physical; reminding Tony, for all he surely knew, that they were living this moment together.

Turning back to his devotions, Ron nuzzled his nose and lips where sternum gave way to muscle and then, after a moment spent simply watching and feeling Tony breathe, counted the inner edges of the man's lowest ribs with the gentlest of kisses. Back and fore he went, left…right…left….right, until the want to move his affections lower still required a shift of position.

Sitting back, Ron caught Tony's hands in his and kissed their palms, letting the other man catch his eye and see him smile before placing them on the ink-covered plains of his forearms. They were free to wander, of course, but touch was easy there - not a potentially breath-stifling stretch like his shoulders or his neck would be in this moment now.

Mindful not to dislodge this newly welcomed contact, Ron stroked both his hands down Tony's torso slowly; strong fingers curling at his sides and squeezing appreciatively as they found his hips. Black eyes met green again as that squeeze became a hold which, as the publican's grin grew wolfish, became a tug that bought Tony's rear flush with the cradle of Ron's hips. It was a promissory gesture almost, one that was as instinctive to Ron as rolling his hips forward into it and then, the feeling near overwhelming, needing to pull back; to redirect himself towards the first of the courses, the intimacies he'd promised Tony.

Shifting back that bit more, Ron cupped a hand round the outside of the other man's right thigh and leant in, turning his nose and lips against the inside of Tony's knee. He pressed a kiss there, full and slow, another purred utterance escaping-

"--Safe word's stop, alrigh' darlin'?"

-before a second kiss was given a couple inches further along Tony's thigh. Another followed, this one higher still, closer to his groin. Then another-

"Stop, remembah…"

-as Ron purred that reassurance again; for it was one in tone and nature despite their obvious comfort with and want for each other right in this moment. What weren't said outright - I see you, I hear you, I've got you - was in Ron's eyes as he met Tony's, and in the gentle smile they shared before Ron's attention again turned to his slow traverse north along the other man's inner thigh. So close to Tony's groin was he now that if he turned his head his next kiss would land square on Tony's shaft and Oh-

The depth of the moan that escaped Ron when he did, when it did, you'd think Tony'd been the one finding silky, wanting flesh with his lips in Ron's place.

Pressed together, hand wrapped around both of them, Tony couldn't help another stroke, rough hand pulling at his own erection pushing it even closer to Ron, both of them reacting to the stimulus with a roll of their hips, a mimicry of what was to come. Tony found himself eager in a way that his one-night stands hadn't ever done for him. There was an underlying layer of emotion that made this night better than any he'd had before.

One more stroke of both of them before Tony was moving, swinging his leg over Ron's lap so he could collapse on the couch next to the other man, grabbing Ron's hand and pulling him over, so that Ron leaned over his body, covering him in a way that left Tony feeling out of breath for reasons that had very little to do with the action. He moved his arm, hand clinging on to Ron's back, encouraging the other man closer to him.

Pants were forgotten as Tony enjoyed the moment, the way Ron felt against him. They were quickly remembered, Tony lifting his hips up and one hand pushing them down his thighs, stuck on his knees. He met Ron's eyes, the pupils of his own blown in pleasure.

"Get yours off too," he told Ron. "If I'm gonna be naked so are you. I want to get my hands on you. Want to learn all your sensitive spots. I want you to touch me, to find everywhere that makes me hungry for more." He leaned up, lips pressed against Ron's ear. "Take me apart, Ron."

It wasn't the dirty talk of back alleys, bodies pressed together for a quick meeting, the risk of anybody walking past fueling the fire. This fire was slower, built slowly, the way you would build one in a fireplace, kindling their lips pressed together, the first log the way their bodies answered to each other. This was the kind of fire that burned for ages after it was built, not a spontaneous combustion. For Tony, so used to those short bursts of flame, it was something he found himself craving. He loved the way they had built up to this, the flames slowly licking at their bodies.

Fingers found Ron's erection again, stroking from root to tip, unable to stay away for too long. He wanted to watch Ron come apart with pleasure just as much as he wanted it for himself. There was no rush, no need to move faster. It was better than when he took himself in his own hand, Ron's body so different from his own, pleasure found in different ways. Tony wanted to memorize it the same way he'd watched Ron eat, figuring out the foods he didn't like. He wanted to do the same here, figure out everything Ron liked.

[ronmanmob]

[ronmanmob]

Unknown Photographer. London, 1930s

[ronmanmob]

Turn ask replies into threads.

If you like a response I made, you are more than allowed to just take it and make it into a thread. Some of you do this already, but others might need a bit of a verbal confirmation to let them know that they are more than allowed to do so. When I put a lot of effort into something, I really do enjoy when it sparks the need to turn things into threads with people. Whatever random situation I put our muses in normally something that I’ve wanted to write for a while, and I assume that you do too because you sent me the thing in the first place!

Write out a thing and tag me or mention me. I want to see where things go from there. Plus, who knows, if you wanted something with our muses, breaking the ice tends to make it easier to get that thing.

[ronmanmob]

Scars and relaxation

All About Health Meme

Ron has lived a fighter's life and has many a scar to show for it. From top to toe there's a large crescent shaped one on his scalp which you can feel if you stroke fingers through Ron's hair. There's a scattering of short, jagged ones round his right temple where he ducked into an attempt at glassing him and saved his eye by turning his head aside. A couple of thin ones, also from fights, as visible near his mouth and on his jaw.

The next of note his under his chin, which was split by a kick from a workman's boot when he was younger and smaller than he is now. Next is the mess a Very Bad Day made in the crook of his left arm. Be delicate asking about that one, and when finding it with fingers. That's the only one of the lot that makes him uneasy to this day.*

Further down Ron's arms live the usual working man's scars - thin and well healed and earned while hauling barrels and boxes, fixing bits round the pub and coming a cropper off the stove when trying to pinch a bite to eat on the sly. Life likewise patterned Ron's hands like that, his knuckles split in street fights often aren't apt at hiding scars. And then the last on his hands is the smallest - an accidental slip with a pen knife when he was still a teenager cut the tendon in his right little finger. He can't uncurl it without doing so manually with his other hand or flattening his fingers against something.

Further on down his body there're less marks than on his hands. Ain't a man yet whose been able to split The Colonel with a knife in a street fight, so his torso, legs and feet are more or less scar free. Ron makes up for that with the number of tattoos he's got plastered all over, mind.

Relaxation-wise Ron tries to fit bits in throughout his day. He's in the habit of taking his lunch hour in twenty minute blocks when he's on shift instead of disappearing for the whole glut of time in one. He can decompress throughout the day that way instead of winking out of existence at noon. During those times he'll make a fuss of his dogs, spend a li'le minute on a crossword or sudoku puzzle, hang round the kitchen if his aunt's on or just settle in there or outside in the pub's garden with a cuppa and a Do Not Disturb order for the staff.

If he's not working Ron devotes a lot more time to peaceable doings. He loves gardening and taking his dogs on long walks and will sink hours into both these pastimes without need of telling. Long baths are something he enjoys as well, though that's not something he'd fess up to in front of the working lads in case it caused a loss of face. The Colonel can't relax, of course. Man ain't 'uman!

Alright lads.

Besides those things Ron is also a bit of a war buff - World War Two especially. He's collected many large-scale maps of key theatres over the years and enjoys rolling them out and setting out his painted battalions as Churchill's dulcet tones wisp up from his record player.

*You'll have to ask him about this one. He reserves the right to politely decline

[ronmanmob]

Ron’s sizeable collection of small, medium and large sized dogs. “From th’top there’s Claude ‘n Mo, then below left’s Bruce, ‘oo’s their son. Next t’im’s Toppah, then next line’s Marley ‘n Juno, ‘oo th’shealtah finks’re bruvvah ‘n sistah. ‘N on bottom’s Duchess - baby-girl’a th’family. Not related t’th ovvahs at all, she’s ‘alf Labrador ‘alf Borzoi. She’ll grow long legged I fink. She’s th’cloud’a softness ‘n light among th’guard dogs ‘n Mo, ‘oo’s a Danish Mastiff - Broholmer they’re called.”

[ronmanmob]

stress: does my muse handle stress well? what is a surefire sign for others to tell that they’ve become stressed? how does stress affect them mentally / physically? 

All About Health Meme

Ron handles certain kinds of stress - that bought on by the threat of violence, say - exceptionally well. He spent so long using it as currency to keep the underworld under his bootheel that it doesn't hit him in the fight or flight like it would someone without that life experience burned into their marrow. In situations like that the shift in Ron is really hard to spot if you don't know what you're seeing. Like a hunting dog zeroed in on pray he stills and fixes where the threats are coming from, a warrior's calculus running between blinks in his head before action takes over and the threat-bringer is engaged with and either neutralised cleanly or ripped to shit if they've got more fight in 'em. That kind of thing doesn't stick in Ron's nets; won't cause him grief a day later. Water off a ducks back, it just slips away.

What don't slip away though--

Put a pin in this now, it's the micro-stresses going through everyday life with a neuro-atypical brain that can get on top after a time. Food is horrific for it, especially new food from new places. Likewise disruptions of a planned routine. Likewise the need to keep a presentable public-facing face when doing that second-to-second is massively mentally taxing.* Likewise taxi rides (which is why Ron has a personal driver). Likewise, likewise, likewise--

Most days these things are just got on with fine. Ron's been poorly over a decade now. He knows how his mind works and how it doesn't; how to make things that bit easier and what makes things So Much Harder. He copes spectacularly well a good 80% of the time. It's that 20% - usually coinciding with when his meds are petering out or newly administered - that can** kick him up the curtains.

That kind of stress in Ron comes out variously and, to others, isn't at all subtle. It's restlessness, an uptick in positive symptoms mental-health-wise (positive being an addition to a person's typical experience,*** not something positive in the nice sense), intense, almost irrational-seeming physical tension and irritability and all the snapping and snarling that comes along with those things. Violence though...Present day, violence is very very rarely on the cards and when it is it's uniformly directed either at himself or at something inanimate (think hurling a mug against a wall).

*which is why unmasking in private is so big a step in trust and also very important for Ron's wellbeing **but doesn't always ***think hallucinations and delusions as opposed to negative symptoms (losses of function) like alogia and flat affect

[ronmanmob]

meals: how many meals does my muse eat a day? what do they generally consist of? 

All About Health Meme

Routine helps Ron get on with getting on, so breakfast lunch and dinner are three welcome pillars of the day - much as the stress food can* cause him thanks to his mile-wide paranoid streak makes it hard work to get on with from time to time. With that in mind it must be said--

Ron is Exceptionally Picky when it comes to food.

New foods are always met with a double serving of suspicion until he's decided** they're alright to go on the Safe List, and it's this list that informs most of his food choices day-to-day. Easy to get on with staples are tea, toast, biscuits, certain brands of granola or energy bar and easily picked up and eaten fruits like bananas or apples. Even these things though only remain on the Safe List at the discretion of Ron's ever present internal Committee and the mental condition that bought it into being. If one morning brain-chem makes buttered toast come off like...flayed skin ohhh...something fucking repugnant and rotten say, man ain't touchin' that meal with an 'undred foot pole for f'kin weeks.***

A good day's menu would look something like:

Breakfast A fry up out the pub's kitchen, made by his Aunt May A cuppa

Lunch A sarnie - turkey maybe, or ham 'n mustard - again out the pub's kitchen and therefore made by Aunt May

Dinner If he's off out, a trusted option out a trusted eatery If he's not, again, we're defaulting to something yummy out the pub's kitchen and, sensing a theme here?, made by his Aunt May

The reliance on May (bless her heart) isn't laziness on Ron's part. As mentioned above, his has Real World Trouble with food and the fact he trusts May helps negate a lot of that grief. Similar reliance on or preference for would be shown to a loving partner who didn't mind turning their hand to cooking. In that situation Ron would go out of his way to buy ingredients for dishes and help with non-cooked-bits, expressing his thanks and appreciation for his person's efforts like that as well as speaking the words.

*but doesn't always **what informs this decision is anyone's guess ***at best

[ronmanmob]

Drabble about dogs.

Drabbles Meme

Precious little in Ron's life gave him more acute joy than the presence of a dog. For preference he'd always go for multiples in quantity, which was why he had seven and would never refuse the notion of more out of hand. They were made of love and trust to Ron, were dogs; something he could say of about three people in his life, total. For a man like him, with a brain like his, this was critical. Ron had to be able to trust without second guessing; had to be able to have the mental space to do that in a setting that was objectively safe.

His dogs, all seven, let him do that.

And they knew it too. He'd put money on it.

What else could explain how Claude - "Th'big black'n" to his brother Reggie - knew when Ron's internal seas were rough enough to make his presence, Claude's presence within touching distance, mandatory for the day to even begin let alone progress without incident? How did the dog know to keep all but the most safe people at bay on those days; to lean into his master's leg as mental waves broke on battered shores; to lick his face on the rare as hen's teeth day it was wet and tasted like salt and despair?

The dog just knew. Ron would put money on it.

It was this importance to him that made introducing Tony to the pack such a big deal to Ron. They weren't pets to him, they were family members; irreplaceable souls that padded round with bits of his heart in 'em, always. As was the case always, it was Claude the black'n who was first to meet his dad's new close-circle person. All of four years old and wise with it, Claude sat at ease between his master's feet and watched as he and New greeted each other warmly. His presence made a cuddle impossible - New, it seemed, was wise to how foolhardy getting too close to a stranger could be - but the man didn't seem to mind. There was no threat in his face or manner as he regarded Claude, and as Claude regarded him back; the dogs amber gaze unmoving even when Ron spoke to introduce him.

"Me soul-dog, this" the man smiled, curled fingers rubbing affectionately at the dog's wide neck. "Name's Claude. 'Ee's 'alf Italian Mastiff 'alf English Mastiff. Got 'im off a puppy farm when it was raided 'n broken up. Poor sod could'a fit in a teacup then 'ee was tha' young." From his pocket Ron snaffled a milk-bone. He handed it to Tony. "Y'know as well as me, aye?" he grinned, nodding towards his seated, watchful, four-pawed companion. "Best way to a man's 'eart's f'rew 'is stomach."

[ronmanmob]

all about health

send one ( or more ) in to learn all about… 

scars:  how many scars does my muse have? where are they located on my muse’s body? how did they get them? what do they look like? 

sleep: how many hours a night does my muse sleep? do they take naps? how restful is their sleep? do they experience nightmare? if so, how often? 

meals: how many meals does my muse eat a day? what do they generally consist of? 

routine: does my muse have a consistent routine in their lives? do they find it difficult to stick to a routine? 

chronic: does my muse have any chronic health conditions / illnesses? how do these affect them from day-to-day? 

doctor: how often does my muse visit the doctor? do they tend to go routinely, or only when something is wrong? 

relaxation: what does my muse do to relax? do they find it easy to carve out time to relax? 

aches: does my muse have any frequent aches? ie, muscle aches, joint aches? how do these affect them from day-to-day? 

stress: does my muse handle stress well? what is a surefire sign for others to tell that they’ve become stressed? how does stress affect them mentally / physically? 

mind: does my muse have any mental conditions that affect their lives? what are they? how do they handle them? what coping methods do they use most? 

[ronmanmob]

As Tony waxed lyrical about Bogart and Huston, Ron acknowledged with an empathetic murmur and a slight wave of the hand his lament about full schedules and weeks to wait before they could next see each other. He knew how busy life could get - hell for all his talk of being free and clear and the master of his own shifts, he had commitments he couldn't move round for love nor money. There were musicians wanting to play gigs at his pub that he had to vet, new hires coming on-staff, deliveries to meet. It was endless, and clearly was for Tony too.

Two weeks Ron could handle fine.

The publican's grin flashed teeth when he saw he was officially on the schedule. He added their date to his planner likewise, giving Tony's phone a gentle tap with his in something like an I'll see you then toast before pocketing the device again as the other man mentioned calling over tomorrow's meal prep. The fact that that concept as a whole was give or take alien to Ron went unmentioned; pointing out differences between them now of all times near-last on Ron's wants list for a close to the evening. Instead he glanced over Tony's shoulder when he flicked his thumb that way, then gave him a soft smile when reluctance edged into his voice. Ron didn't much want the evening to end either, but it weren't like they had infinite time to spend out tonight and the alternative--

There weren't no way.

He weren't about to drag Tony back to his place a city away, and it just weren't in Ron's mind to suggest he accompany Tony to where home was for him. They'd met what, twice now? That weren't take me home acquaintanceship, was it. No. Instead, Ron matched Tony like-for-like in reluctance as he replied-

"I suppose y'bettah 'ad"

-a frown's ghost flickering through his expression before it relaxed into easy fondness. An addition then, "I 'ad fun as well luv - lookin' forward t'th next time I see yah", that was the preface to Ron shucking his coat up just that bit further round his shoulders and giving Tony's arm a parting touch. "Sees yah then" he murmured. "Drop us a message when y'get 'ome, please." And then he was off, prowling away towards the spot a street 'n some down that he'd agreed with his ride as their pick up point.

He'd confess it to no one, but he'd be waiting on that text.

Planning ahead, setting a date for them to get together. It was something Tony hadn't done since Jeanne, and even then he ended up calling out or leaving partway through his dates. He'd made sure this time that he wouldn't be doing that, choosing a night when they didn't have an open case and the team wasn't on call. He didn't want work to intrude on his time with Ron, time that was hard won both by him from work and by Beth with her loving insistence that he give this a chance. He treasured the time he had where he knew he wouldn't be called in. Sharing that time with Ron was something Tony didn't mind at all. He would rather share time with Ron than stay home doing the chores he always fell behind on.

He pulled out his own phone, opening his very carefully scheduled calendar, the different colors indicating appointments, trainings, days when he was on call, any social engagements he'd pledged himself to. It was full, things happening on most days. Tony lived a busy life. But there was one Sunday, two weeks out, that was blessedly blank. Good. Tony didn't want to wait longer.

"Two weeks," he told Ron. "I know it's a long time, but my schedule's pretty full. I'll have the time that Sunday, though, and they're working their way through the Bogart collection. That day's supposed to be Treasure of the Sierra Madres. Great movie. John Huston cast his father, Walter, and he put on one hell of a performance." He stopped, realizing that Ron hadn't asked for the movie trivia that Tony was full of. He could've kept going, usually would, but this relationship was new enough that he didn't think that Ron was ready for that, not yet.

Instead, he let go of Ron's hand reluctantly, typing in the date before showing the purple notification to Ron. "You're officially on the schedule." A blinding smile as he glanced down at Ron's phone and his own. "I'll call you tomorrow," a day that was also free from obligation, "All I'm doing is grocery shopping and meal prep. I can talk and make noodles at the same time."

Even if he couldn't, he would make sure that he found time to talk to Ron. He wanted to see where this went, to see if he and Ron could build the relationship Beth thought was possible between them. He wanted to give this an honest chance. It was more than Tony'd been willing to do for years. It was both exciting and nerve wracking.

"I better let you go," he said reluctantly, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm a block that way. I really did have fun tonight."

[ronmanmob]

[ronmanmob]

[ FIVE BRUSHES ] send for the for the five times our muses almost hold hands and the one time they do.

Five Times Meme

Ron weren't apt to put numbers to happenings in his life. He weren't wired to stop at simple one, two, three counting, instead reaching for numerology by reflex and ascribing meaning where it may've been but may not've just as easy. So it weren't by numbers he recalled those moments where he and Tony almost but didn't touch during this - the first proper time they had. He found them instead between the lines on the other man's palm. They were settled, he and Tony, in Ron's apartment above his pub; two mugs of steeping tea and Ron's tarot cards set out on the coffee table that lived within easy reach of the settee where Tony sat. On that table's edge perched Ron, Tony's hand held in his left while the fingers of his right divined meaning from all they found and traced with a delicacy uncommon among lads his size. It was a fingertip-search affair, slow and careful and that may have been conducted, if how Ron's head would slightly tilt now and then like a whisper of music caught his ear was any indication, yet more thoroughly than was obvious at a glance.

He hadn't the language (or the stones) to express I can hear how you feel verbally yet. Shit he wasn't sure he ever would. But he could. In his mind he could, as surely as Tony could hear the soft crooning of Ella Fitzgerald as she sang away on the record Ron had playing. That though was wholesale by the by. Between murmurs of commentary about what Tony's palm was telling him, Ron found those moments that'd been almosts on the run up to today. Early-doors into knowing him, the first time Tony'd popped into The Venture for a drink, the dear man had decided on a bottle of the house's best red to go along with his evening repast. A tester glass was passed over with compliments. Their fingers brushed, but only brushed, on its stem. That was the earliest memory Ron had of almost with Tony. His fingertips found it at the base of the other man's index finger.

The next-

Just as quick and easy, this one had come and gone. Ron had found himself light a pen during the tot-up after a horse race. He was working out the pot for him and a gaggle of mates and how they'd split their winnings after a couple'a good 'orses had come in. Tony, who'd been visiting at the time the race was on the pub's rolling projector screen, had kindly passed his over out his jacket pocket and on its barrel, their fingers had touched and lingered but had become no more than that. Present day, this happening came back to Ron as he followed with his index finger's tip the head line spanning Tony's palm from right to left. He found the next at that line's end. It'd been dogs, this time. Introductions between dogs during a walk in the local park. Ron had decided on sticking to big ol' Claude alone during this, his pack's introduction to Tony's Heston and Keaton. It wouldn't have been right to face the pair with seven pairs of curious eyes and seven wagging tails, especially since Ron's pack weren't made up of uniformly friendly, personable sorts. There were at least two guard dogs in there who'd need time and space and proper introductions and so, as a safe bet, it was genial Claude he'd picked as an ice breaker. The meeting had gone lovely, so much so that when they washed up at a little sit down eatery in the park's grounds Ron and Tony'd reached for Claude's broad head at the same time to give him a bit of fuss while Heston and Keaton enjoyed a snack each. They'd touched then, and while they could've easily turned that brush of fingers against fingers into a hold of hands, against a betting man's odds they hadn't. Even the dog looked surprised they'd not managed it then, his own bet set firmly in the surely to God they will column.

The next had been similar, and so was found close by on Tony's skin. This almost had also involved dogs, but darling Duchess this time - Ron's littlest pack member by a country mile. During a stop-in round Ron's apartment he and Tony had been watching Clark Gable and Viv Leigh give stellar performances in Gone With The Wind. Little Duchess, mid-roll, had decided to snuggle in between them, and had dozed off with her little blonde back and bum cupped in Tony's right hand and Ron's left. So close yet so far that time, neither man had wanted to move lest they disturb the drowsing angel. And the last-- The last almost before now--

This Ron found in the centre of Tony's palm. It was an only just missed opportunity, this one. An evening out at a jazz club saw them among a brimming crowd and Ron, bulwark against the lot of them that he was, had angled himself as he walked ahead of Tony by a couple of paces so he could direct folk firmly out of their fuckin' way as required. As he'd prowled forth, Ron had held a hand back towards Tony in hope of keeping hold of him, and while he'd felt the man's skin briefly he ended up with his grip on his forearm as they made their way into clear air.

It'd been a close almost, that one. But Ron didn't comment on it. He closed off his reading instead by touching his fore and middle fingers to his lips, kissing the tips and then stroking that kiss - that almost a kiss - against the middle of Tony's palm.

[ronmanmob]

♢      —         𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 ‘𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒’ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

inspired by those “five times our muses do something” memes. there used to be one years ago like this one and i can’t seem to ever find it again so i just made my own.  receiver = muse receiving the meme / sender = muse sending the meme

general trigger warnings for: nsfw, angst, violence, death, 

[ FIVE KISSES ]  send for five times our muses almost kissed and the one time they do.

[ FIVE TOUCHES ]  send for five times our muses almost touch and the one time they do.

[ FIVE GLANCES ]  send for five times the receiver watched the sender and the one time the receiver does something about it. 

[ FIVE DEATHS ]  send for five times our muses almost died together and the one time the sender does.

[ FIVE CUDDLES ]  send for five times our muses nearly cuddle and the one time they finally do.

[ FIVE CALLS ]  send for five times the receiver nearly calls the sender and the one time they do.

[ FIVE SCARS ]  send for the five times the sender almost asks the receiver about their scars the the one time they do.

[ FIVE SMILES ]  send for five times one muse makes the other smile and the one time they share a smile.

[ FIVE FIRSTS ]  send for five times our muses almost had their first time together and the one time it happens.

[ FIVE CONFESSIONS ]  send for five times the receiver almost says ‘i love you’ and the one time they do.

[ FIVE VISTS ]  send for the five times our muses try to plan a trip and the one time they succeed. 

[ FIVE TEXTS ]  send for five unsent texts from the receiver and one sent text. 

[ FIVE NUDES ]  send for five times the receiver almost sent a nude and the one time they do.

[ FIVE GIFTS ]  send for five times the receiver tried to give a gift to the sender and the one time they do.

[ FIVE PLEAS ]  send for five times the receiver wanted to ask the sender to stay and the one time they do.

[ FIVE BRUSHES ]  send for the for the five times our muses almost hold hands and the one time they do. 

[ FIVE FIGHTS ]  send for the five times our muses almost get into a fight and the one time they do.

[ronmanmob]