A Refugee's Face

Take a break, pack it in, take it out | for Alex

Sun, 04 Sep 2022 01:39:36 GMT

Distance from the event didn't, exactly, make things easier to bear, but it did make the day to day easier to tolerate. Three months on, and Kavinsky was feeling a little bit more like he could breathe. The studio continued on, he kept going to the club, and his life was, for all intents and purposes, a mechanical repetition of life.

Tonight was a slow one, but that was alright. It was just noisy and lively enough that he could stop feeling for a second, and that was good enough for him. While they were between songs, he sat in the back, incapable of working up the energy to people please and far too worried that he'd end up lashing out instead. He had his eyes on Alex up on the stage at the moment, just at the doorway to the back room. There was a group of youngish guys in front of her, probably about their age or just a little bit older, all egging each other one.

He strode out, taking to the stage. Alex's music was winding down, and the next song was queuing up, so Kavinsky just slotted in against her. The young men just sort of stared for a second, seeming startled that Kavinsky was there. So he winked at them, and said against Alex's ear, "Last song, beautiful. Let's make it worth while."

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[penance opt out]

Sat, 27 Feb 2021 18:19:49 GMT

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Fri, 12 Feb 2021 15:06:11 GMT

Rather than telling Charlie to get out of the house for a few hours or overnight or anything like that, Kavinsky, instead, contrived that their younger ward could have the house to himself as long as he put it back together the way it ought to be by the time they got back on Monday. Kavinsky was settled into a long-weekend sort of idea. His birthday on a Friday, Valentines Day on Sunday? It was perfect.

And, after all, he still had the luxurious studio flat that he owned downtown. There was no sense in not putting it to good use every now and then.

"Like a honeymoon," he said with a grin, pulling Newt inside the door of the apartment that he'd once kept for a delineation between his marriage and his extramarital relationships and that he now kept just because it was a nice place to dream without concerns to anyone's safety. He had going-out-plans for the evening of his birthday and a nice lunch, at least, on Valentines, but other than that?

"Like that first weekend we got together. Ice cream, pizza and weed the whole time, if we want."

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[penance thread tracker]

Sun, 20 Dec 2020 16:29:27 GMT

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Sat, 21 Nov 2020 17:46:20 GMT

The start of the sixth year, for both of them, seemed like a weird benchmark but it was what it was. Here they were, having made it this far: older than they ever thought either of them would be, further along, more themselves. A house and home, a little family of the two of them and their ward who didn't need to stay at home anymore but still did until he got his feet under himself, the cats, the memories of those they'd lost a constant presence in their lives. Six years starting wasn't the same as six years ending, but sometimes it felt like it.

Holidays were always a slightly strange time, but at least with Charlie at home, it was a bit more like knowing what he was doing. Thanksgiving wasn't quite as big a deal to Kavinsky as Christmas was, but it was still a big deal, especially when it meant an excuse to drag people into his home, to make them suffer his presence and familiarity, the closeness of built family.

He'd come a long way in the last five years, and the sixth with another year of it.

So, it wasn't Thanksgiving yet, but making food for Thanksgiving meant getting ready for it. It meant planning. And it was unseasonably warm, so right now that meant looking at recipes on his phone in the backyard with Newt nearby contemplating how to winterize or whatever when the weather seemed to have missed the memo that it was November and they needed to think about getting ready for winter already.

"Do you think I'd get my American card revoked if I refused to do turkey?"

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everything zen - I don't think so [for Alex]

Sat, 05 Sep 2020 22:07:23 GMT

Going to the forest didn't have the effect he wanted it to. He was still shaky and off-put, this psychic constipation that he almost never had to deal with and certainly hadn't had since the demon had tried to destroy him and Ronan and everything they were. Had that been two years ago or three now? Sometimes it was hard to remember.

Sometimes, Kavinsky thought it didn't really matter.

Today was no better or worse than when he'd woken with the pitch in his blood, that glossy black that he hadn't really had since he'd arrived in Darrow and was still getting used to dreaming here. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. Either way, he wasn't up for dancing.

Skip out with me he texted Alex. They weren't due on a stage for hours, and he was hanging out in Arch. He accompanied it with a selfie, him hanging half backwards off his chair, the picture taken upside down, sticking his tongue out and looking stupid with the sound board behind him. Let's just chill.

There was maybe a part of him that hoped she could do something, but he wasn't about to ask. Joseph Kavinsky did not ask for things. He had always been the knowledgeable outlier, the fount and sage, and anyway this wasn't exactly some ghost bullshit, was it? He'd figure it out.

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the rain falls, the summer ends [for Newt]

Sat, 05 Sep 2020 21:45:50 GMT

Addiction was a weird thing for Kavinsky to work through, a word he didn't like to use. Sobriety, too. Sober implied that there was non-sobriety, and addiction implied that he was out of control of his behavior. He was better than he had been, and that was something. No more days or weeks long benders. No more substance parties. No more reckless, maddening behavior. But there was alcohol in the house, there were pills in his altoids tin and spliffs in his little case always on his person. There were days when he woke up and ached and shook and hid it with a little powder and a lot of caffeine.

Was it really hiding? If it was hiding, that implied there was a problem, probably, and Kavinsky had never had a problem.

Today was a weirdly bad day. Kavinsky couldn't peg it. He'd woken with chills and shakes and a bloody nose that he might have attributed to a dream if he'd dreamt anything up. But he hadn't in days--weeks, probably.

The blood was stickier than it should have been, darker. Kavinsky cleaned himself up, did two bumps, and headed into the kitchen to get breakfast started while Newt kept sleeping. No point waking him up over something that wasn't worth fussing about.

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chopped and screwed up [for Newt]

Fri, 22 May 2020 01:09:09 GMT

Kavinsky was at the studio when the idea struck him. He was supposed to go right to the club after this, a long day but a relatively early night all things considered. And he didn't think Newt was planning to come out, in particular. But now the thought had come to him and he couldn't get it out of his head, even as he worked through the promotional materials he needed for next weeks festival.

He set everything aside and sent Newt a text.

come to the club
pretend u dont know me for the night

They hadn't done anything like this in ages. Sure, Newt came to watch him dance, but it was mostly smiling and laughing and a few tips. They didn't do anything more than that very often. And the thought of it was a fun one.

Sometimes he missed the filth they got up to in the first months of their relationship, or even before they'd gotten the kid at home. It was normally pretty easy to kick Charlie out for an evening, but that wasn't the point. Sometimes, you just wanted to get filthy and freaky with your husband, wherever you could get him to dick you down. And at work? That was just an extra bit of fun.

And now, especially, it was exciting because he wasn't sure when Newt might appear to play the game. He just had to wait and let it happen.

Well, time to go to the club, dress down, and start his night. With the music in his ears, he could ignore the time and just dance for tips and the whistling attention of the post-business week crowd.

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I don't want to wait 'til the next life [for Alex]

Sun, 22 Dec 2019 01:40:32 GMT

A little more than two years ago, wearing a slightly different face and more tattoos and a hysterical moment of nineteen-going on-thirty-something stupidity, Kavinsky had gone down on Party Poison in the back of the trans am, a brutal lapse in judgment just months after his and Newt's marriage that had led to the clean break of his and Peter's relationship, and the less clean break of his and Jack's. He'd quit dancing, a decision of his own--as quitting going to Fight Club had been, mostly, though that had been more heavily influenced by Newt's disapproving frustration, staring at his face after he'd come home with the busted eye socket, the one that was still a little strange.

It was hard to believe it had been two years. Things had mended, gotten better, soothed. And now, Jack and Poison weren't here at all. And now, Kavinsky was more sober than he'd been since he was, frankly, thirteen years old. It was a strange place to be. The occasional drink. A habitual habit of his black-paper, sweet smelling clove marijuana-tobacco cigarettes. Rare pills with Newt when they went out.

The record label was quiet but not dead. People still used it, he still produced, but without Party Poison, it was a quieter place these days. Kavinsky wasn't hurting for money. But he was bored, and boredom was a dangerous thing for Joseph Kavinsky. So when he prospected the idea of returning to dance to Newt, Newt had smiled and teased a little bit, and then given him a kiss and sent him on his way.

He went right back to the club he'd danced at two years ago. It was the same manager-bouncer that it had been two years ago, and he smiled amiably as he came in. It was early. He'd have to audition again, because it had been so long, and if he was out of practice, they would make him work on amateur nights. So Kavinsky had some time to kill.

He was sitting at the bar drinking a gin and juice, listening to the shitty music playing on the tinny speakers over the bar--quiet, not loud enough to compete with the stage music, but nobody was dancing right now, so it was just bad.

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[AU | for Shiro]

Thu, 21 Nov 2019 05:08:35 GMT

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[AU | for Shiro]

Sat, 09 Nov 2019 20:17:38 GMT

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[AU | for Newt]

Fri, 20 Sep 2019 18:46:42 GMT

"I'm pretty sure this place is out to get me."

Kavinsky didn't mean it badly, not this time. It just seemed like these things happened to him slightly more often than they happened to Newt. Which was fine, he supposed. He found he minded but he didn't mind when he inevitably woke up and there were tits in place, no more cock, all the rest of it. Newt certainly always seemed to enjoy it when it happened, so why shouldn't he too?

He yawed and stretched. The sweatpants he'd gone to sleep in were too big, and because he hadn't slept in a shirt he felt curiously exposed. He considered the tattoos on his arms and then let them drop across his chest.

"Gimme a shirt."

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[AU | for Andrej]

Wed, 31 Jul 2019 18:43:09 GMT

( here there be monsters )

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Joseph Kavinsky | The Raven Cycle

Fri, 03 May 2019 04:34:42 GMT

Joseph Kavinsky
Application
Permissions
How's my driving?
IC Contact
Penance

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[permissions]

Fri, 03 May 2019 04:31:03 GMT

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HMD

Fri, 03 May 2019 02:42:43 GMT

Let me know how you think I'm doing. Comments screened.

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Joseph Kavinsky | The Raven Cycle | app

Thu, 02 May 2019 17:39:09 GMT

( application )

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Fri, 15 Mar 2019 01:41:07 GMT

Baba had come to New York and liberated him from his little flat, and now he was standing outside of Prokopenko's place, a moving van parked behind the Evo, a couple of strapping Ukrainian men moving his things into the house.

Prokopenko wasn't even there. Kavinsky had called on the way down, and he'd been at work. Kavinsky had laughed it off then, but he hadn't expected baba to have a key to the place, prepared to break them in and start moving the few things that he had into the house while there was no one there to stop them.

"I will make lunch," she proclaimed, walking into the house with great aplomb. Kavinsky could do nothing but follow her.

"Shouldn't we wait for Illya?"

"Pah, he knows we are coming. If he is late for lunch, this his problem."

Kavinsky swore under his breath, scrubbing at his hair. He didn't think Proko was going to have a problem, but he wasn't sure how happy he was going to be about how unceremonious this was.

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Champagne for my real friends [for Gabriel]

Thu, 31 Jan 2019 21:05:17 GMT

He didn't go out much anymore, but when he did, it was with two purposes in mind: one was a sale, because he was still a dealer from time to time, and second was for people watching. Tonight was a twofer. He'd done the deal in the alley behind the bar, and now he was in, at the bar, watching people. Someone had bought him a drink, because he was married and not dead, and Kavinsky had taken it and immediately moved away from the guy that did it.

Now, he was circling. He'd seen Gabriel Harkin when he'd walked in the door, but swooping in like a hawk seemed unkind. So he waited until Gabriel seemed settled, was obviously alone, and then he settled himself beside him at the bar, grinning like a fiend.

"Hey stranger," he said. "You come here often?"

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Wed, 16 Jan 2019 17:44:41 GMT

The thing about having a kid in the house--and kid was relative, because Charlie was almost, nearly, their age--was that Kavinsky felt weirdly bottled up. Like there was no privacy in his own home, which was stupid. There was definitely privacy: the bedroom, the garage. But all the miscreant behavior that Newt and Kav had gotten up to in the last couple of years was curtailed because there was a teenager, and sometimes his girlfriend, in the house.

Kavinsky felt like he hadn't gotten laid in ages. That wasn't strictly true. They'd managed it all over the house before New Years, and Newt had made sure they thoroughly ignored the ridiculous mayhem of New Years together in the suite at Kagura. But now he felt like he couldn't, and that meant that he was distinctly aware of every day that he wasn't.

Sometimes, needs must.

Kavinsky gave Charlie his credit card and told him to stay out of the house for a couple hours after school. It was not good parenting. He didn't really give a shit. He might have soundproofed the bedroom, but he didn't really want to test how well he'd managed it when the kid might come home at any second. Then, he made sure that he didn't need to go into the studio, and he settled in for bribing his husband to come home early from whatever errands or work he had around town.

First was a shirtless picture, which Gally ruined by jumping up on the sink while Kavinsky took it. Then a picture of some of the lingerie he still owned, kept tucked in the back of the closet. Then one of the bigger plugs, already slick. Then him in the lingerie, cock straining slightly, legs in stockings and garters neatly framing everything. He knew he didn't have to go to this much trouble.

The last text just said Charlie's out. And then Kavinsky waited.

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Less like a father, more like a big brother [for Charlie]

Thu, 03 Jan 2019 23:53:19 GMT

The social worker had explained that the kid was coming from the Children's Home, and that was about it. Kavinsky and Newt didn't actually know anything about him, except that it was a him, and that he was an immigrant, like they were. The social worker had assured that that was normal as well, but that, since it was a foster, not to give up the chance of having a child to adopt if they proved that could successfully wrangle someone with a little autonomy.

Kavinsky was sort of dreading it. He wasn't so far out of being a kid himself, neither of them were. How did you get someone so close to your own age to respect you?

He loaded himself into the car and drove into town, heading for the Children's Home. It seemed cruel to have some kid, no matter the age, take the bus or walk out to the suburbs and the little Kavinsky home. The least he could do was go and pick him up and make sure he got there without any fuss.

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Everything could fall down, everything could go [for Poison | backdate]

Fri, 28 Dec 2018 03:30:47 GMT

Poison was running late, but that was fine. Kavinsky had been sitting in the studio for a while anyway. There had been a couple of smaller bills he'd dealt with, studio time that paid for keeping the place open and producing Poison, but most of the day so far had been book keeping and not, specifically, thinking about the letter that was sitting on the front desk.

e had to think about it at some point. He had to open it. He ought to open it around Newt, because that was probably the right thing to do, but he'd grabbed it on his way out the front door, and he'd been glancing at it throughout the morning, letting it stare at him as the day marched onward.

Darrow City Administration
Department of Family Services

Kavinsky felt like he ought to be more manic and less generally anxious. The letter had come sooner than he'd expected; they'd had the home visit only a week or so ago, and the case worker had said it would take quite a while to hear back, and even longer to get a placement. They were, for the moment, slated for fostering over adoption. He wasn't sure if that actually made a difference with placement at all.

He heard the door open and looked up from the letter, which he'd picked up from the desk and was just staring at.

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Sun, 07 Oct 2018 13:34:27 GMT

For the moment, it was still just them. They had someone from the adoption agency coming in November, and the office was gutted down to just the daybed, but now it was still October. Early, and they'd finally hit a blessed cooling down in the weather, so Kavinsky had the windows open to air out the house and was cleaning.

He rather knew Newt liked watching him cleaning house. So he was in just a pair of sweats, and he'd fished out the thin collar that Newt had gotten him a few birthdays back. Just those things.

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Thu, 13 Sep 2018 21:08:57 GMT

The club was busy, noisy, and Kavinsky was dressed to draw attention. She'd had a bit to drink already, but not enough to be drunk, and she'd done a couple of bumps in the bathroom, but not enough to feel really out of control. Everything felt good, especially when she's dancing, her tight skirt scrunched almost all the way up, her top loose and almost hanging off, even as it clung to her.

She wants to get in trouble. She wants to have a wild night. It seems like a great night to do it.

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Sat, 25 Aug 2018 17:22:56 GMT

There was a room upstairs at the party, where people were doing body painting. Kavinsky had wandered up earlier and lost his shirt and ended up streaked with paint. He still had his hat on, which was such a ridiculous thing to have retained throughout that endeavor, but he'd managed it. It had long ago gotten streaked with glitter and dye splatter, splashes of color on his skin and the hat. Pinks and blues and now he was streaked and swirled with body paint in intricate streaks of fingers from the waist of his pants across his torso.

He found Newt on the main floor, back toward the entrance to the garden. He was a vision in color-streaked white. Kavinsky wrapped around him and kissed his neck.

"Enjoying yourself?"

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