joseph KAVINSKY (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
100mitsubishis) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
station722017-02-28 05:47 pm
100mitsubishis) wrote in station722017-02-28 05:47 pm
you wanted someone to hurt you [open]
CHARACTERS: Kavinsky & anyone
WHERE: The Station; Circle Gardens
WHEN: DAY :010.
SUMMARY: Elsewhere, the station turns. Here, Kavinsky gets high.
WARNINGS: Drugs. So many drugs. May update if things get... worse.
[The Circle Gardens are as close as Kavinsky can get to a clearing in a forest, so he's found himself a spot of empty grass to sit on during another day on the good ol' station. It hasn't been that long since he was stripped from planet Earth, but he spent so much of the last few years in a drug haze that all of it-- this moment, and the ones preceding it-- could reasonably be a dream. From dust mote to whistling breeze that isn't a breeze, it's him, whistling. All you have to do is pucker your lips and blow and know exactly where to put your tongue.
Speaking of his tongue, it's tingling. There was a tab on it not long ago. A small strip of an acid hybrid of his favorite make, namely his own. Colors mash together, sometimes into violent neons that have no place amongst the greenery.
He's on a high tier of the garden. He's on a high tier of another variety. And he remembers back when someone kindly shared their moonshine with him.
There's that pied piper voice, temptation on a stick.]
( Wanna come over? )
[A mental call with no set destination. It zigzags, pingpongs, hits then bounces and keeps on coming. Anyone could come and visit with him. He has a little bit of everything (with all his free time, he's been sleeping, creating, God-like).
Forever ago, on a balcony, a witch told him not to fuck around with this stuff so much. He'd affect all of them.
The problem with that warning is it didn't do a thing to turn Kavinsky's path.]
WHERE: The Station; Circle Gardens
WHEN: DAY :010.
SUMMARY: Elsewhere, the station turns. Here, Kavinsky gets high.
WARNINGS: Drugs. So many drugs. May update if things get... worse.
[The Circle Gardens are as close as Kavinsky can get to a clearing in a forest, so he's found himself a spot of empty grass to sit on during another day on the good ol' station. It hasn't been that long since he was stripped from planet Earth, but he spent so much of the last few years in a drug haze that all of it-- this moment, and the ones preceding it-- could reasonably be a dream. From dust mote to whistling breeze that isn't a breeze, it's him, whistling. All you have to do is pucker your lips and blow and know exactly where to put your tongue.
Speaking of his tongue, it's tingling. There was a tab on it not long ago. A small strip of an acid hybrid of his favorite make, namely his own. Colors mash together, sometimes into violent neons that have no place amongst the greenery.
He's on a high tier of the garden. He's on a high tier of another variety. And he remembers back when someone kindly shared their moonshine with him.
There's that pied piper voice, temptation on a stick.]
( Wanna come over? )
[A mental call with no set destination. It zigzags, pingpongs, hits then bounces and keeps on coming. Anyone could come and visit with him. He has a little bit of everything (with all his free time, he's been sleeping, creating, God-like).
Forever ago, on a balcony, a witch told him not to fuck around with this stuff so much. He'd affect all of them.
The problem with that warning is it didn't do a thing to turn Kavinsky's path.]
no subject
Then he dreamt the glasses. He has no good excuse--not like he's forgotten or forgiven Sam for sticking his nose where it didn't belong. On paper, Kavinsky would argue the rest of his brood determined Sam's continued importance. In what little privacy he has left, Kavinsky just did what he always does: whatever he wants.]
No, that's stupid. Don't think of it like that. I find what I want in the dream and take it out with me. It's like going to someone else's house but all your shit is there and the security system's not worth a dime.
no subject
It hadn't escaped his notice that Kavinsky'd wanted nothing to do with him for a bit, but Sam's pretty damn sure that the reason he pissed the kid off so much is because he'd gotten Kavinsky's number, because he'd called him on it.
But that's not what he's here for now. Sam's got no intention of pushing every time he sees him, and for now he just leans back. ]
Like I said, pretty awesome. Have you always been able to do that?
no subject
The answer, in that case, is:]
Not always.
[But that doesn't make him any less powerful than Sam's wildest assumptions. It doesn't have to be his dream for him to ravish it.]
I'm not keeping it on the down-low, but I don't need everyone asking me for stuff.
[It's not a secret, but if Sam could refrain from talking it up, Kavinsky's appreciation would be notable.]