maskormenacelogs | 28 👶 HEARTBREAK MULTIPLIES [closed]

Entry tags:

28 👶 HEARTBREAK MULTIPLIES [closed]

WHO: Joseph Kavinsky & 'friends' ig
WHERE: De Chima, Maurtia Falls, etc.
WHEN: October 2019
WHAT: Catch-all for October, hmu on Plurk @

shramp if you would like to play!
WARNINGS: Possible violence, sexual content, offensive language (racism, sexism, etc.)

closed to kylo ren;

[it's breakfast at the meadows, for those of us who may periodically eat breakfast. and kavinsky is here. it's the first time anyone has seen him back at the meadows after the explosive encounter with murphy last month, but it was probably inevitable that that reprieve would end. kylo ren no doubt feels it in the force long before he makes his way down the steps.

the dream thief is sitting at the table, neglecting a cup of coffee by his hand.] We gotta stop meeting like this, [kavinsky says, almost as if nothing had happened. but this is actually just how he is after things have happened. there's a brief death threats phase, then a violent overreaction phase, then an eerie approximation of indifference phase, and not always in that order or single iteration. he scratches his neck, studying kylo ren out from under heavy eyelids.]

Hey. Hey, how you feel about chopping some wood topless today? Paparazzi would love it. Not gonna lie, I could use the cash.

closed to ronan;

[the joseph kavinsky apology tour of october 2019 starts how you'd expect. on the first day of october, the words,

my bad 😔
can be found spraypainted on the outside of the meadows house in lurid green paint, while smelling eerily like blood, yet fading away politely as the sun makes its way up and down the sky. on the second day of october, the icepack that had been rendered to k's use is replaced in the fridge, and there are irish mince pies too, as well as an automated robotic lawnmower swerving dangerously close to killing the family of voles in the yard outside. on the third day, kavinsky texts.]

come hang out 2day

closed to cassidy;

I wanted to say thanks for letting me stay. [kavinsky seems more normal now. i mean he's never been normal, and cassidy only met him after he began a life of crimes you can get the electric chair for, some parts of the world back home. but a couple weeks ago, when he slept on the couch with a face like an overripe melon attacked by a hacksaw, he'd seemed full of spiky, humming, hideous energy, a wasp hive in a human skinsuit.

but today, he's more like his usual self. healed, obviously. smug and slightly subhuman, cleaned up nicely outside that hints heavily as to the dirt in his soul. and grinning big, boyish when the vampire comes to the door. he seizes cassidy by the hand.] C'mon.

closed to rupert;

[2am at the club, maurtia falls. which club? a club. kavinsky generally just rolls up to the first place with valet and a long enough line out front to look intimidating, flashes his import id, and that's enough to get himself in, even in absence of a cis lady figure.

in reality, kavinsky drinks and does far fewer drugs than he used to, and being at the club is a new kind of high. well, an old one. one that actually predated the drinking and the drugging, but enhanced it. kavinsky actually likes being around people, much as he hates everything including people. he likes how people are hungry, needy, exploitable, fun. he likes the validation of his admirers, the pain of his critics, the rush of conquest any time he breaks someone to his will, even if it's something as stupid as bumping into someone on the sidealk without apologizing.

which he does now. but dr. chilton raised him better than that, and the next moment, he's setting his sights on the neon door at the end of the velvet ropes. he starts toward it, slinging the key fob for his black jaguar into the hands of the valet man along with a fat tip (also credit to: dr. c). he doesn't notice the other young import pausing by the roadside.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Much like his courtship rituals, Kavinsky's apologies elicit the very opposite reaction they're probably supposed to inspire. Then again, it's likely that Kavinsky's perfectly aware his every action drips with malevolence. Intimidation is how he gets what he wants, either way.

Ronan, as usual, is only annoyed by this technique. He texts back: ]

why would i do that

ucz im apoloiging and thats rare than a fuckin eclipse which peopel will drive to oregon for, and what the fuck is oregon
cmon
itll b fun i promise

[it's not as rare as it used to be, actually. even more insincere most of the time, lately. but kavinsky's relationship with 'sincerity' is complicated, particularly when you factor in one ronan lynch. he generally sounds more offhand and dismissive than he means to be.]

pls

[two eclipses. three. reaching the, people would drive to arkansas level of rarity, if you ask kavinsky. (no one should ask kavinsky.)]

this better not be some bullshit

[ It's definitely going to be bullshit. Ronan knows Kavinsky. (As much as anyone can know a creature as capricious as Kavinsky.) He is, as Kavinsky likes to put it, probably going to "fall for it" again.

But he will never stop seeing Kavinsky's corpse every time he considers ignoring a text. He promised he wouldn't let that happen again. He promised it to himself. ]

youll have fun.
i promise.

[and maybe just this one time, kavinsky thinks better than to remind ronan that there are no little brothers to kidnap, and john murphy isn't even home to provide much-needed collateral damage. just the meadows, quiet, with all of its dormice and silent walls and slow-changing leaves.]

im outside

[just the meadows, and the world beyond it. which kavinsky had tried to claim for them once, while blind to most of its possibilities. the insinuation is he's changed since then. in some ways worse, maybe, but still.]

[ Ronan emerges from the farmhouse a couple minutes later, dressed for this rare excursion into that world beyond the Meadows. Kavinsky is one of the few who can coax him to leave the safety of the farm anymore, which is funny, because there's no one more likely to land Ronan in danger. ]

What's the plan?

[ The itinerary? The strategy? Whichever. ]

[kavinsky's waiting outside in his jag. two door, a dark grey coupe with a dimly pearlescent, not quite iridescent sheen to her. she looks like mercury waiting to flow with the slightest shift of gravity, toxic and beautiful. inside, kavinsky smiles at ronan, his teeth white.]

Non-perishable food, spilled blood, and strange magic, sweetheart. The dream thieves special.

[a beat.]

No fire and nobody's getting fucking kidnapped. Promise. [he couldn't not mention it at least once, but this time he is serious.] Get in, loser. [the door breezes open to admit one (1) greywaren, and then they're off, with a scream of rubber on asphalt and the wind roaring through the windows.] YOU MADE UP WITH MURPHY YET?

[ Ronan appears entirely unamused, his mouth pulled into a grim line, but he slides into the car without protest and gets settled into the passenger seat, which is small enough to trap his long limbs at awkward angles.

He misses the Mitsubishi. ]

Fuck's it to you?

[ He's not raising his voice, so deal with it. ]

We're getting into that holiday season. Even I can feel the holiday spirit coming on, Lynch. [kavinsky laughs like a hyena. despite all the superficial changes, the clothes, the car make, his laugh is still the same. primal and bright. he drags open the compartment between the seats and pulls out a beer to offer.

for better or worse, the vehicle's electrical and sensors are gradually adjusting to ronan's longer body. stretching out to accommodate his legs, his back.

after that, kavinsky talks. mostly about nothing. prospectus for a new television show, new whisky imports, the fact he dreamed some extinct animals for the zoo to celebrate cassidy's kind hospitality, how he hasn't felt suicidal in awhile, mom, don't worry. he talks about the people he meets, wonders if ronan knows them. abigail seems to have issues; cassidy reminds him of ronan himself, kind of judgy, judging himself, mostly. the meadows are already out in the country, a little, but kavinsky is driving further.

more fields, more trees. fewer people. winding and rolling up and up. until he stops.

north carolina has a lot of beautiful hills, mountains. cliffs and ravines. kavinsky points through the windshield, down to where the land seems to end, suddenly and violently, as if hewn with a blade. rock split into two by -- god, probably. (goddesses.) the gap stretches thirty feet before the other side of the chasm picks up.

or you fall down. down.

down.]

They call you the Greywaren, right?

[his voice is light. underneath, a thread of curiosity and challenge. the teacher has become— something else.] Real power. [you're better than me, is a concession somewhere in there. a creator, not a thief.] You think you could dream a bridge before we went over the edge?

[ Ronan spends most of the ride listening, and when he isn't listening, he's reading: the passing scenery, the polished details of jag, the tension (or lack thereof) of Kavinsky's fingers on the gear stick. Everything is so familiar and so unrecognizable. Even at his best, Kavinsky puts him in a strange state of mind, a drug unto himself. The longer they're in contact, the more reality wavers, just a mirage on the horizon of their private little dream world.

When Kavinsky points, Ronan's glazed eyes follow, and he hisses out a long sigh of aggravation. ]

You know I can't.

[ And in his tone, the reply to that accusation: I never asked for this. ]

[kavinsky smiles. the car idling quietly underneath them sounds like a happy cat.]

I don't know that I know that, [he says.] I asked you once to make a world with me. [turns out, his memory of the world gone isn't that faded after all. some parts remain.] I die. Years pass. You turn up here. And what do you do, in the year of our lord 2019. You make a world.

[he's referring to that dream nexus, months ago. his eyes are very dark, very curious. the chasm below smiles up at them too.] I made a better pill.

No.

[ Kavinsky hasn't even really offered it yet, and already Ronan's refusing. ]

It killed me. You know that, right? I couldn't even find my body to climb back into it. I didn't know who I was anymore. I don't even think I was a someone anymore. I didn't make a world. The world made itself out of me, and then I just... wasn't.

[ Until Kylo Ren mercifully put a lightsaber through the heart of his comatose mortal husk. ]

[that's somewhat interesting. kavinsky technically knew that, but deaths are as often metaphorical as literal here, and in the experience of somebody with ronan's combination of powers. he looks at the other young man, balancing his options, his curiosity, like they're juggling toys on the tip of a blade.

ronan doesn't seem to like adrenaline as much as he used to. or is he more afraid of death, since his brush with it? kavinsky can't tell which, but it concretizes something in the shift that he's noticed since they started -- 'started' to drift apart, this ronan and himself. he smiles a little.

then he starts the car again.] You know a bridge isn't enough to do that to you again.

[ He doesn't know that, actually. Not if Kavinsky's magic pill is involved. It wasn't only Ronan but the merging of his power with Kylo's that led to the disaster. That knowledge and fear combined with the geas placed on him specifically to keep his suicidal tendencies at bay has turned Ronan very cautious, indeed. Even if he felt a craving for the adrenaline, he's physically incapable of intentionally pursuing it. ]

Make your own fucking bridge.

[something crystallizes in kavinsky's mind. the fact that he's still treating the relationship like it's the same as when they were seventeen, but they've both changed. and at least one of them has outgrown it, being psychologically capable of learning from his own mistakes, of changing over time.

maybe even both of them.

kavinsky never outgrows power, though. power is always a good distraction from the big questions in life like: if i know what i want from ronan lynch, then what is it i'm avoiding? he looks at the chasm ahead.] Sure, [he says. he hits the accelerator, shifts gears. the engine roars. the coupe takes off toward the cliff like a stung animal.

if kavinsky really meant to harm him -- harm ronan, kylo ren would probably fall out of the sky like an asteroid to get him, converging on him like some badly tardy karmic fate. but the sky stays clear, sunny. yet the murderous drop looms ahead, nearer by the second.] You don't get bored anymore? [he asks, his voice casual over the screaming vehicle.]

[ Ronan doesn't even turn his head to glance out the windshield. His gaze remains locked on Kavinsky as the car lurches forward, speeding both of them toward a very long fall. He already knows what will happen to him once they go over the edge. Kylo might have felt the threat from all the way over here, but Ronan's pulse doesn't spike and he doesn't cry out. He gives Kavinsky nothing, this time. ]

I'm bored right now.

[for once, kavinsky isn't offended. not in a screamy i'm gonna kidnap your loved ones!! tantrum way, at least.

but he is somewhat mystified. curious. which is different, for him. most of the time, he's bored, himself. adrenaline helps with that; dreaming, trying new things, meeting new people. but ronan doesn't want to dream with him right now, and he sure as fuck isn't new people.

kavinsky grinds down on the accelerator. gear up. the jaguar's cry only grows. dust pluming in the rearview, the rattle reverberating through their bones.]

So you babysit my bullshit, and wanna make out sometimes. That all we are now, Lynch?

[closer. closer.]

[ Ronan leans across the center console, putting himself close enough for Kavinsky to smell the sweet whiskey on his breath. He never said he didn't want to dream with Kavinsky. He's simply not going to dream at his command. ]

Is that what it feels like to you, K?

[ Has he ever gone to the trouble of babysitting just anyone's bullshit? Did he imagine the wild obsessive romance of their youth? Were they only ever two strangers making out for lack of better options? ]

[and here kavinsky thought that his ex liked being told what to do. race me, punch me, kill me. well, maybe not the last one. so squeamish, ronan lynch.

but the whisper of whisky breath across kavinsky's cheek has his attention, as if ronan were ever really at risk of losing that entirely.]

Only faggots have feelings, Lynch.

[he smiles. it lights up his face like christmas, makes him look young, boyish, like an ordinary human who likes fun, enjoys the attention, and finds in his life enough time for ordinary magic and real dreams. as if they aren't hurtling toward a cliff's edge. closer, and closer, and

oh. now they're over.

for a brief moment, the car isn't falling. momentum keeps it moving forward. and kavinsky reaches across the center console himself, opens his tattooed hand— the one that says thief on the knuckles-- and holds ronan's own.]

[ Ronan's heart stutters with the shift in velocity. In the few seconds they're frozen in mid-air, he glares at Kavinsky, reflecting back the absolute opposite of that gleeful mania. He's dour and unimpressed and pissed off about Kavinsky putting him through this again. Like it wasn't enough to have to watch him die once.

And a split second before Ronan decides to abandon him there, Kavinsky seizes his hand. This, at last, surprises him. ]

What are you doing?

[ He's got to know already that Ronan won't be joining him in pointless death. ]

[kavinsky looks back at the other boy, even as their combined center of gravity starts to turn and the sensation in his stomach starts to turn distinctly from flying to falling. there's some kind of smart reply for this, maybe an insinuation about the way he always sees ronan looking at the hands of beautiful men. maybe a nostalgic throwback to the days when he killed a monster for the other dream thief, once. or buzz lightyear.

kavinsky's always the one who has something to say. but he can't come up with anything, thinking only about the shape of ronan's brow, how mad he always looks when he's confused.

snap.

they disappear. both of them. somewhere deep in the forest, the lost replica of a porter sparks, rippling a flux of energy through time and space.

and the next instant, they rip back into existence. dozens of miles away. in the city, de chima proper. there's a rooftop over one of the corporate buildings, restaurants and bars spread out between wandering paths. a waiter carrying a tray of cocktails stops abruptly, startled at the two imports who suddenly teleported into view in front of him -- the glasses teeter, splashing, start to do some falling too.]

[ Once upon a time, that would have been an incredibly disorienting experience. But now that reality is more or less at their mercy even outside of dreams, Ronan has gotten awfully used to traveling several hundred miles in the blink of an eye.

Their hands still entwined, he yanks Kavinsky closer, like it's a romcom and they're about to tango right here on this fancy rooftop - only his other hand snaps up to close around Kavinsky's throat. ]

That shit's not cute anymore, fuckweasel.

[there is definitely at least one nearby food industry worker nearby who agrees with ronan's assessment. they mumble a curse, finding the introduction of surprise strangulation to be worse, not better. stumble away, their cups sloshing.

kavinsky in the meantime has the opposite reaction. the wrong one. his throat is unresisting in ronan's hand, aside from the small bones of his throat pressing their fragile shape against the other boy's calluses. dr. chilton had hired men to teach kavinsky how to fight, but none of them corrected his twisted and impossible sense of when or why.

he looks at ronan, his pupils junkie-huge, two tiny reflections of ronan from slightly different angles.]

I was going for romantic.

Uh huh.

[ But Kavinsky hasn't quite misjudged, really, in failing to defend himself. Ronan doesn't want to hurt him again. It's always been impossible to throttle sense into Kavinsky. Those fingers loosen their grip without letting go, thumb against Kavinsky's chin to keep his head tilted just so, to keep their eyes locked. ]

Congratulations. Our romance is rekindled. Was there a point you were getting to, with all that other stuff, or was that it?

[mission success! except not really. maybe. kavinsky is too chaotic a person to have reliable metrics for failure, really. he somehow killed himself once, and considered that a win.

he studies ronan. wonders, obscurely, which of his boyfriends he learned this from. it's nice. (kavinsky's learned things too.)

(he's learned that, for example, sometimes ronan lynch doesn't want coarse jokes and power games; isn't willing to accept them as currencies of affection anymore.) (the fuck does he want? bad space goth poetry, maybe.)]

The point is there's no place for you and me. Never has been. If there's gonna be one, we have to steal one. Or make it. And you know I've never made a damn thing in my life.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

28 👶 HEARTBREAK MULTIPLIES [closed]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

mild powerpose lmk if not ok

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw drugs

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw homophobic language, also a mild powerpose

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

tw past suicide