joseph kavinsky
fancast: ash stymest- He was unmistakable: the sort of raven boy who was clearly an import from elsewhere. Everything about his facial structure — the long nose; the hollowed-out, heavy-lidded eyes; the dark arch of his eyebrows — was completely unlike the valley faces she’d grown up with. Like many of the other raven boys, he sported massive sunglasses, spiked hair, a small earring, a chain around his neck, and a white tank top.
- He was always moving. There was something erratic and vulgar about the full line of his lips, like he’d swallow her if he got close enough.
- Kavinsky himself stood near it, bottle in hand, shirtless, the floodlights erasing the ribs from his concave torso. [...] Pressing one hand to his concave chest, he fetched his white sunglasses from his back pocket with the other. He put them on, hiding his eyes. The lenses mirrored the furnace around them.
series: maggie stiefvater's the raven cycle
shipping: - m/m preferred, but i wouldn't mind finding my kitty kowalski
- 15-25 yo preferred, character will be aged up to 18 for 18+ partners
- no non-con, we can talk about everything else
warnings: spoilers, language, violence, misogyny. per the canon, the character generally also carries warnings for substance abuse, child abuse, and a variety of felonious behaviors (including b&e, kidnapping, unsolicited groping, assault) but i will warn beforehand |
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=D
Everybody else takes a fucking nap. [kavinsky shrugs his shoulders and leans back against the bed's leg. his spine curls and his ass slides forward across the floor. very lazy. very relaxed! an enviable state of being, he thinks, for a teenager trapped in a fucking rehab facility. he doesn't mind encountering some challenges in life, but he prefers, for example, skeptical white boys to boredom.] No big deal.
Think of it as a sleep aid. Hey, Todd. You sleepy? [that, delivered to the guy prone beside him. kavinsky reaches over and slaps their third on the ass-- eliciting another burst of stupid boy chortles.]
no subject
Lip exhales a stream of smoke, momentarily fogging the window, before he shoots a glance over at Kavinsky and Todd. Kavinsky's instincts aren't wrong; Lip would take relaxation. Even the comedown doesn't sound all that unappealing. If he's asleep, it's less time considering what a mess he's made of his life. ]
At least someone in here's having a good time.
[ Which is the offer on the table, though Lip still can't pin down exactly what Kavinsky's getting out of it. He stubs out his cigarette on teh windowsill, relishing the smear of ash before he rounds the bed to dig his toes into Todd's ribs and nudge him out of the way. ]
You don't have to worry about my constitution, [ Lip dismisses, crumpling gracelessly down to the tile floor. ] Lay it out.
[ It's a bad decision. But Lip was due another. ]
no subject
rich kids. even has a grinder built for grinding, cylindrical and metal, some dubious powdery reside still clinging around inside. he drops in the capsule and goes to town, his sharp-knuckled hands expedient and practiced with the implement, something almost hypnotic about the repetitive sound. it'd fit right into one of those youtube videos hipsters make, that asmr shit, if you took out the illegal drug references.
todd rolls onto his side, giving them his back. and starts to unzip his pants, rather audibly.]
What're you in for, sweetheart?
[kavinsky smiles cheshire, and taps the powder out onto the ipad. he's using the rehab center's own business card to cut it up into lines, slouching down so low his spine folds up like a nightmare of scoliosis.] Mom on your case?
no subject
But he's got no mobility. He tucks his hands into his lap, inhales hard through his nose. Todd's making an attempt at privacy, but there's no real way to ignore what the sound of the zipper has given way to. Lip isn't phased. He's shared a room for most of his life. And the incidental query about his mother provokes a sharp, bitter flare of angry. Lip smiles crookedly. ]
Nah. I fucked up at school.
[ The word expulsion lurks, unspoken, in the back of Lip's throat. ]
I figured I needed to get a handle on some kind of moderation after my professor dragged me out of the drunk tank.
[ And this wasn't part of working the program, but Lip's decided to give himself a minor reprieve. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded, to watch Kavinsky work. ]
What about you? Your parents toss you in here?
you can/should ignore this and me the rest of your life [yeti]
tak tak tak. that's him tapping just a little bit more snowy powder residue down on the dark glass. it's only a second before the new addition is cut up into the existing lines too, as even as the knife of a butcher, scarcely a stray granule.]
What happen? You shoot up a school? [this is clearly the antisocial teenager concept of door-in-face technique. overshoot, risk offending, then cut it back to a safe medium. persuasion techniques out of many a managerial program textbook. kavinsky offers the other boy a slender red stirrer that he had summoned out of some hygienic place. up close, he smells like a nightmare of cigarettes and axe body spray.] Run over a kid in your car. [this is where they mock the squeamishness of the administration together.]