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)
station722017-12-19 09:17 pm
100mitsubishis) wrote in station722017-12-19 09:17 pm
I eat and drink and spend and fuck and never get my fill [OPEN]
CHARACTERS: 100mitsubishis and whomever
WHERE: the red coast, a cliff along the shore, close-ish to where listle diving would take place
WHEN: Day 26
SUMMARY: old habits die hard or not at all; once again, Joseph Kavinsky has no idea what he's doing here and decides to get high up somewhere... well. High. But feel free to post something else--totally open to wild cards!
WARNINGS: drug usage, allusions to sexual situations in main post, unsavory mental practices, casual misogyny, self-hatred thinly disguised as disgust in others, etc. etc. Kavinsky shit
[It's never been difficult for Kavinsky to find a cliff.
Admittedly, it's usually the metaphorical kind, the sort of edge one can sit at from the comfort of their furnished basement while their mother, drugged to the gills, dozes upstairs. But this time it's the physical kind with a sharp drop down to an alien sea.
There's salt in the ocean here--he can smell it carried up to him by whipping, unruly breezes--like there's salt in the ocean off the eastern coast of the US. He lived in Jersey before he moved to Virginia, both of which had access to the ocean, a great abyss that would stretch out forever to the human eye, but it was a lie, another one of reality's funny little tricks. See, the ocean had its limits, like all things in the waking, material world. He'd heard once, during one of the very few Biology classes he didn't sleep through or ditch, that a person could only see two to three miles out tops, thanks to the curvature of the earth. But even if they could see all the way around, until their gaze slid over their own back, appreciated their own ass, it was still limited.
He's been to multiple planets. He's traveled through the stars. He's met wizards and superheroes and women with secrets worth learning (novel shit, that), and it leaves him empty anyway. An infectious feeling, that he spreads among the other hosts who venture too near to him. He is the plague rat, he is patient zero of a hollowness that gapes and yawns and feeds forever.
That was why the symbiote chose him, and not King Dick or Lynch or their little peasant pet with the bad attitude. It chose the one that wouldn't be satisfied by the sci-fi version of a Thomas Kinkade piece. The view's majestic, it's beautiful, but it's a cliff. And cliffs end shortly, like Kavinsky's attention span or his ability to appreciate nature's beauty.
His old hideout wasn't in the middle of the fucking forest because he wanted to commune with the squirrels. He'd wanted privacy, so he'd found it.
There's no such thing anymore. He's part of a Nest. They're all gonna feel the smack of it when he snorts a line off the slightly trembling back of his own hand. Nobody will realize how kind he is, doing it far away from the bulk of them so that it will only be a trace in their system. Oh no, they don't get that despite himself, he's being forced to keep their best interests in mind.
Blame it on the symbiote. Blame it on his Brood. Blame it on the al-al-al-alcohol.
He almost reaches out to Elliot. He nearly calls him over, asks if he needs another hit and what he'd think about sucking dick in the open while the wind jostles their robes, but something about asking for attention feels too much like admitting need.
Kavinsky has no needs he can't satisfy. Only cravings. Like cliffs, they end.]
100mitsubishis and whomeverWHERE: the red coast, a cliff along the shore, close-ish to where listle diving would take place
WHEN: Day 26
SUMMARY: old habits die hard or not at all; once again, Joseph Kavinsky has no idea what he's doing here and decides to get high up somewhere... well. High. But feel free to post something else--totally open to wild cards!
WARNINGS: drug usage, allusions to sexual situations in main post, unsavory mental practices, casual misogyny, self-hatred thinly disguised as disgust in others, etc. etc. Kavinsky shit
[It's never been difficult for Kavinsky to find a cliff.
Admittedly, it's usually the metaphorical kind, the sort of edge one can sit at from the comfort of their furnished basement while their mother, drugged to the gills, dozes upstairs. But this time it's the physical kind with a sharp drop down to an alien sea.
There's salt in the ocean here--he can smell it carried up to him by whipping, unruly breezes--like there's salt in the ocean off the eastern coast of the US. He lived in Jersey before he moved to Virginia, both of which had access to the ocean, a great abyss that would stretch out forever to the human eye, but it was a lie, another one of reality's funny little tricks. See, the ocean had its limits, like all things in the waking, material world. He'd heard once, during one of the very few Biology classes he didn't sleep through or ditch, that a person could only see two to three miles out tops, thanks to the curvature of the earth. But even if they could see all the way around, until their gaze slid over their own back, appreciated their own ass, it was still limited.
He's been to multiple planets. He's traveled through the stars. He's met wizards and superheroes and women with secrets worth learning (novel shit, that), and it leaves him empty anyway. An infectious feeling, that he spreads among the other hosts who venture too near to him. He is the plague rat, he is patient zero of a hollowness that gapes and yawns and feeds forever.
That was why the symbiote chose him, and not King Dick or Lynch or their little peasant pet with the bad attitude. It chose the one that wouldn't be satisfied by the sci-fi version of a Thomas Kinkade piece. The view's majestic, it's beautiful, but it's a cliff. And cliffs end shortly, like Kavinsky's attention span or his ability to appreciate nature's beauty.
His old hideout wasn't in the middle of the fucking forest because he wanted to commune with the squirrels. He'd wanted privacy, so he'd found it.
There's no such thing anymore. He's part of a Nest. They're all gonna feel the smack of it when he snorts a line off the slightly trembling back of his own hand. Nobody will realize how kind he is, doing it far away from the bulk of them so that it will only be a trace in their system. Oh no, they don't get that despite himself, he's being forced to keep their best interests in mind.
Blame it on the symbiote. Blame it on his Brood. Blame it on the al-al-al-alcohol.
He almost reaches out to Elliot. He nearly calls him over, asks if he needs another hit and what he'd think about sucking dick in the open while the wind jostles their robes, but something about asking for attention feels too much like admitting need.
Kavinsky has no needs he can't satisfy. Only cravings. Like cliffs, they end.]
im just
[ Just because their Quirks are similar doesn't mean jack shit about the content of their person. He's cussed out people for doing nicotine pulls, what's this guy think he's gonna do for someone inhaling something harder. ( He can feel, at this proximity, the weird hum of what's gotta' be the drug in Kavinsky's body. It feels, just a little, like the urge-hum in Elliot. It's not a pretty picture, for him. ) ]
You think some trick lights are gonna' be on my level? Don't make me laugh.
[ If this was any other place, any other time, he'd show him just how much stronger he was. A lightshow's a lightshow, especially compared to the liquid explosion that runs inside of him, just waiting for the proper trigger. Bakugo pulls his glove back on. Fists still balled up for a slug-out fight. ]
Drugs ruin lives, you know. How about you knock that shit off and maybe I'll consider letting you be on par with this.
[ "This", being the heel of his disguise's boot. See it? He's pointing right at it. ]
no subject
... What are you pointing at?
[They've been indoctrinated into an alien Hivemind, Kavinsky knows exactly what the boy wants him to look at. But he's doing a really good job of staring at the ground like it might reveal a selection of highly exclusive secrets to him if given enough attention.
It's a joke that lasts only a few seconds before he gazes back up, brows down and heavy in mock concern. His face can't be seen in the uniform, but he knows how to twist his tone to make it blatant.]
I didn't know they had the DARE program in space, babe, but thanks for the head's up. I'll think on it.
[He won't.]
no subject
Jeeze, don't make me explain it. It'd be like hand-holding with a stunted toddler.
[ wow ]
What the hell is DARE. It's just common sense. How're you supposed to get stronger if something like a drug is holding you back?
no subject
All this boy has in his favor is he's certainly the angriest person Kavinsky's ever had berate him on his usage. That earns consideration.
Not about using, though.]
I don't need to get any stronger.
[There's a weight to the words, however blandly they're stated. Kavinsky puts out the burst of color dancing over his palm, then hides both in his pockets to hide the fact the skin was beginning to burn.]