Open RP Post

[burnyoudown]

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🔥 General squick/trigger list.
🔥 m/m for anything shippy.
🔥 General headcanon for Kavinsky. If you've got different headcanon/ideas for a psl, hit me with 'em; I'm flexible.
🔥 Kavinsky's kink list.
🔥 This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!

Comments

[threesecrets]

I know. Of course you do.

[Ronan's voice was warm and soothing, trying to make sure that Kavinsky knew that it was okay, that Ronan didn't fault him for it. The greedy part of him wanted to just hold onto him, take their clothes off and touch until he could feel him in his skin. But he wanted to do it someplace more real than in Lindenmere, and as greedy as he was, he knew how important seeing Proko was for Kavinsky.

So he bottled up his desire- or did his best, at least- and instead smiled at him as he laced their fingers together, gently tugging Kavinsky with him as he walked through the trees. It wasn't that there was a specific exit in a place like this, but Ronan walked in a direction with purpose, letting Lindenmere know where he wanted to go, and eventually he'd find his way back to the rocky path that he'd taken to get there in the first place.

He couldn't help staring at Kavinsky for a long moment, holding his hand a little bit tighter. And then he let out a breath that he didn't even know he'd been holding when he was still here, still real, still Kavinsky.]

C'mon. My car isn't far.

[burnyoudown]

[He nodded, taking a breath, and then another. It mattered to him that Ronan didn't mind that he needed to see Prokopenko. Proko was his best friend- he was so important, important enough that Kavinsky had brought him back from death. Just like Ronan had done with him. If anyone would understand, Kavinsky knew it would be Ronan.

Kavinsky smiled in return, a little sad if only because he was worried about all of the what ifs. He'd have way less to be concerned about after he'd checked on Proko. Then, whatever troubles came at him, he knew he could face them with Ronan at his side. Brushing his thumb across the back of Ronan's hand, Kavinsky fell into step next to him, looking this way and that as they walked, though his gaze always returned to the boy next to him in the end. It wasn't that he'd never seen a forest before, but he knew this wasn't just a forest. It was special. Magical.

He should-]

Thank you.

[For caring about him even now, for wanting him, for bringing him back from the dead. For going to take him to see Proko. It all meant so much to him; he wasn't sure anyone had ever wanted him this much, before.]

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky wasn't usually good at this either--he'd already fucked up everything with Ronan, but this- this was different. Elijah was fierce and strong, and soft and sweet. He'd already fit himself between Kavinsky's ribs, become a part of him as much as he was a part of K's life. He couldn't imagine not having the other boy around, and not just because he'd saved his life. It was the sentiment of the gesture that meant the most to him (alright, and without the gesture itself they wouldn't be having this moment, so that was important, too).]

You don't have to be alone, either.

[He murmured, leaning his forehead against Elijah's, thumbs brushing over his cheeks.]

I want you in my life. I want- fuck. You know, no one's ever protected me before.

[Not from anything that really mattered. Sure, his pack protected him from bullies and assholes, and that was important, but on one had ever protected him from himself. His mother had never protected him from his father. She'd never really given a shit. The people who should have fought for him never had.

People tended to think he was okay when he really wasn't; he was good at hiding it and yet half the things he did were a cry for help. Maybe, just maybe, things would be different now though. Better.]

[smiledevilish]

Well- I dreamt Elijah. So I figured we should talk. And not in some bullshit shovel-talk sort of way.

[He smiles, but it's charm, not a threat, half rolling his eyes at the idea that he might be here to threaten him of all things. Not that he wasn't protective of Elijah, but things between them were complicated these days, and he just wants to try and do something right for once. He shrugs his shoulders as he drags a hand through his blonde hair, and jerks his chin in the direction of the pool table that K is leaning against.]

You any good?

[Even in dreams, he liked to have something to do with his hands. It made the nervous energy less obvious, made him seem less twitchy and more put together. He doesn't know how to explain about him and Elijah. The year before Eli transferred from Kingswood to Aglionby had been a shitshow, and it's one of those things that builds a wall neither of them know how to talk about. But it lingers on his tongue like something bitter, anyway.]

It's a dangerous thing sometimes, being a dreamer. And you matter to him--

[Dimitri still cared about Eli, even if he'd had to admit that his dream wasn't going to love him. But he couldn't resist the desire to at least do this; reaching out and trying to be there in the only ways he knew. Trying to do something, even if it'd never be enough to make up for everything that Elijah blamed him for. And aside from that, this boy was a dreamer, and he wasn't Aidan where he'd never had a chance, couldn't prove he had value. He'd always been the bad influence, the drug-dealer, and maybe he deserved it -- but maybe he didn't.]

[burnyoudown]

[He didn't bat an eye when Dimitri said he'd dreamt Elijah, rolling the information over and over in his head. He couldn't judge, not really. Not after he'd dreamed Prokopenko back to life, though this sounded different. It was still similar enough, close to the same thing in essence.

Glancing over his shoulder instinctively, he eyed the pool table for a moment before shrugging and returning his attention to the other boy.]

I'm decent enough.

[Sliding off the table again, he wiggled his toes in the rug, head tilted to the side. He didn't know what sort of expectations he'd had about this encounter, but- the lack of threats was refreshing, really.]

Don't I know it.

[Being a dreamer was super fucking dangerous sometimes. People either wanted you dead or wanted to exploit you. Or both, sometimes.

He hesitated for a moment, pushing his fingers through his hair in an attempt to comb it back from his face.]

He matters to me, too. If that's what you're worried about.

[smiledevilish]

[It wasn't quite so simple; but in his defense he'd been a child when he'd done it. He'd been all alone and he'd been lonely, and he hadn't known what was more terrifying- reality, or his dreams. So he'd asked for a friend. Who he'd been asking, he hadn't really considered back then. Especially not when there was this gorgeous boy about his age that walked in his dreams with him, fought his nightmares.

He hadn't thought to ask him what things were like for him when he was awake. He'd thought that he was like the trees and the strange lights, and the other fantastical things that lived in his dreams. And then he'd started high school at Kingswood, only to see the beautiful boy he'd thought only lived in his dreams laughing wickedly with an arm tossed over someone else's shoulder. And he'd been jealous, then.

Things between them were more complicated, but his feelings were simpler -- he just wanted Elijah to laugh like that again.]

I'm not worried. I just-- I want someone that makes him happy, and it seems like you do. And I know it's easy to feel like you're all alone when you're a dreamer, so... Fuck. Look, I suck at this sappy shit, but if you ever need help you have it.

[He shrugs his shoulders, fidgets with his hands, his smile slipping from devilish and charming to something more self-conscious as he moves so that he's a little closer to Kavinsky, so that he can lean against the edge of the pool table. He tilts his head back, trying to order his words, make sense of what he's trying to say.]

I loved him once- Elijah. But I'm not good... [Enough.]

Look, so everything went to shit. Someone died. And I just want him to be happy this time. I just wanted to say that if you ever think you're in over your head, you don't have to be.

[Dimitri was good at dreaming, more or less, depending on the day and his mood. He could also be a pretty good thug. And he just didn't want this to be like Aidan, too fucking stubborn to admit that he needed the help because Dimitri was the one offering it. He wanted to try.]

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky could count on both hands the number of times in his life someone had come to him offering to be there for him if he needed someone. It was enough to make him a little emotional, and normally he was good at hiding it--this wasn't normally. He was still raw and tired and it felt like it took too much effort to put up his usual walls.]

I appreciate it, man.

[He swallowed down the words are you sure you don't still love him? because asking at this point right now would have felt cruel. Kavinsky usually never shied away from being cruel but- he didn't want to push someone away when he was on the cusp of making friends.]

I know what that feels like. Everything's gone to shit a few times in my life.

[He'd nearly died because of a boy, been saved by another boy, had his best friend die a handful of months ago (and then dreamt him back to life). Things were quite well and good fucked. And yet- he felt like he had hope, a second chance. Ronan didn't hate him, Elijah loved him.]

I want to live for him. I want to be good for him. I'm not sure I'm who he deserves, but-

[He sucked in a breath, pressing the heel of one palm to his eye.

He didn't finish. Instead, he shrugged helplessly.]

just some cute nonsense;

[silkensupra]

[It wasn't really a party; it was movie night, which meant it was just the pack- and Ronan Lynch- though whether that was because Ronan was basically one of them, or because Jiang would have brought him anyway, was hard to judge. But it was a quieter sort of event than most of Kavinsky's gatherings; generally speaking nothing even got set on fire.

Jiang remembered precious little about the movies they'd watched, but that was so typical that Skov had even stopped teasing him about it. He thought that maybe the Rock had been a lifeguard, or maybe a spy? But it had been hard to pay attention when Ronan Lynch was within arms' length, gorgeous and lovely. And it wasn't like he was the only one there with a boy they liked. Honestly, these nights were one of the few places he was comfortable cuddling up with Ronan, kissing him someplace where other people could see. Where it didn't have to feel as much like a secret as the stolen moments at school or after a race, in poorly lit car interiors pulled along the shoulder of a dark country road.

Ronan had left sometime around two in the morning, and Jiang had kissed him goodbye a dozen times as he walked him to his car. He wished he had his own apartment, someplace better to invite him back to than his dorm room on campus. And he was sure Kavinsky would loan then a room to crash in (and he had done so before) but it was different. He wanted... someplace that was his, and that he could share with Ronan. Not that he couldn't sell his parents on it, but it would take time, and trying to explain why he couldn't suffer through one more year of dorm-life that didn't involve the word boyfriend.

Which was to say that Jiang had consumed enough alcohol that he clearly wasn't driving home that night.

He doesn't really know why he says it, except that he tells Kavinsky everything. Everything that's important, anyway. It's easy to think that he's closest with Skov, but K was the boy that had changed his life, that was the reason he'd ever had an excuse to hang out with Ronan Lynch in the first place. Kavinsky had been his first friend, the boy that convinced him that friends were worth having. That he was someone that deserved the things he wanted, not just what his parents wanted for him.

Swan and Skov were likely borrowing a spare room for some time to themselves, or maybe asleep by now, and Proko was on the couch with his head in K's lap- he seemed high enough to barely be awake let alone coherent- and the movies had turned into Bulgarian hiphop played softly in the background. So it was mostly just the two of them; Kavinsky had a stimulant addiction and Jiang had too many thoughts and feelings circling in his head to make sleeping alone seem pleasant.

They'd been talking about something else, about cars and races, about modifications that would up the horsepower and if it was worth mucking with the handling, but then they'd fallen into just companionably listening to the music.]

I think I'm in love with Ronan.

[He says I think, but there's nothing in the way his voice sounds for it to seem like there's actually any question to it. It just feels safer, somehow. Maybe less damning; because of course he hasn't told Ronan. Of course he wasn't going to tell Ronan. Or else he wouldn't be confessing to Kavinsky in these quiet hours, far enough before dawn that the world was still dark as midnight.

And maybe he also tells him because there's always been something between the Kavinsky and Ronan. He'd thought it was romantic, but then he realized he'd just misread the intensity. Because they were intense- at their best they were like friends with a secret language, at their worst they were fights and fists and barbs worse than they threw at anyone else. He thought it was because there was something vulnerable about intensity like that, about having a friend that would give everything-- save your life or burn together in the fire.

He thinks that Kavinsky maybe understands Ronan better than anyone else.]

[smiledevilish]

[When Kavinsky said that he appreciated it, seeming to mean it without being sly or cruel about it, Dimitri sighed, a little bit emotional himself. Because people didn't often take him at face value, didn't typically believe that he could offer something like this without getting something out of it, didn't see how much he ached for kinship and acceptance and something as simple as friendship. Once, he'd had Elijah, but now...

Of course he still loved Elijah.

He'd dreamt him as a child, and he'd always seemed perfect. He still was. What he really meant was that he didn't have any intention of trying to cut into what Kavinsky and Elijah had together. He could love him and be his friend, could love him and be there for the both of them. Before anything else, Elijah had been his best-friend when he was all alone. For Dimitri that felt bigger than wanting to date him.

He wanted to say something encouraging, something insightful, but all he really had to offer was understanding.]

I mean, I think that's what matters. Being willing to try. Cause- fuck- I know it can be hard. Deciding that you still want to live even after everything falls apart.

[His voice is quiet, a little bit choked up, and he looks up at the ceiling, shrugging his shoulders like it's not a big deal. Like he's not saying I know what it's like to feel like dying: but he is. And he's here; both of them chose to stay alive, one way or another. In Dimitri's case it still feels like a thing he makes his way through one day at a time.

He doesn't say that part outloud, but it's still there.]

[burnyoudown]

[He smiled and it was a little watery around the edges, a little obviously emotional. Leaning over, he bumped his shoulder against Dimitri's, friendly, understanding. He was sorry the other boy knew what it was like, how hard it could be to decide you wanted to live after everything went up in flames. He was a little grateful for it too, at the same time. That probably made him selfish or some kind of asshole, but what else was new?]

So, what're you living for? What stirs your heart?

[It was probably a deeply personal question, but he wouldn't be Kavinsky if he didn't ask those sorts of questions.]

It's alright to tell me to fuck off, too.

[burnyoudown]

[Maybe Kavinsky should feel jealous. Maybe, if he was sober and not so utterly content, petting Proko's hair softly, he would have felt differently. Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd moved past jealousy because that wasn't what Ronan was to him, even if he'd maybe wanted it once upon a time. That time had passed and things were different. Better than they'd been before. At least, most of the time, when Ronan wasn't being an insufferable dick.]

No shit?

[His gaze was oddly intense and sharp for the time of night it was, considering how tired and awake he was, at the same time. He wasn't judging though; if anything, he was intrigued, curious. Jiang was a good guy, sharp but sweet, too. Ronan was- well, he wasn't as bad as most people thought he was. Which wasn't to say he couldn't be that bad, just that he was more than that, too.]

Are you going to tell him?

[He didn't even consider questioning Jiang's feelings. There was no are you sure or how do you know; he trusted that Jiang knew what he was feeling. Even if things like love could be so complicated and complex. And, at times, frightening.

The real question was, would Ronan jump ship if Jiang told him? Kavinsky knew Ronan wasn't the best with words and talking about soft things. If he was, they probably wouldn't fight as often as they did. (But that was okay; there wasn't a fight bad enough, yet, that could tear their friendship apart.) If Ronan hurt Jiang- Kavinsky would hurt him. Of course, he wasn't going to say that though; Jiang didn't need K playing Protective Dad with his love life. Probably.]

I'm not exactly surprised; nothing could've pried you two apart tonight.

[silkensupra]

I dunno. I want to, but-- does it make me a coward if I don't know? Cause I don't wanna scare him off, either. We haven't even put a name on what this is. Which would be bullshit with most people. But Ronan is... I trust him, right? It's not like he doesn't want to talk about it because he wants to fuck around with someone else.

[He doesn't think that he would. And even if he did, he doesn't think that Ronan would be capable of lying about it, hiding it and pretending that everything was okay. Making Jiang feel like the center of his world knowing that he'd betrayed him; he was too much of a glutton for punishment, too honest with other people but rarely with himself.]

He's just- Ronan.

[He sort of felt like he might be a coward. Like he needed Ronan so much that he was afraid of disturbing the rhythm they had. The possibility of losing him hurt just to think about, not even necessarily that he thought Ronan would leave him for someone else, but he wasn't sure how he'd react to words like boyfriends and dating and I love you. Was it too much? Was Ronan afraid that his own feelings would be too heavy to carry? It seemed the most likely from what he knew of the other boy.

Be he laughs a little when Kavinsky comments on how all over each other they'd been tonight. He flushes a little, but mostly it's just warmth, just happiness.]

But he makes me happy. I want to make him happy, but I want dumb shit like holding his hand and holding him when he can't sleep and saying he's my boyfriend. I want so much, you know?

[And he grins, a little bit wicked, a flash of his teeth. Because it was easy for people to think that Jiang didn't fit, that he wasn't like the rest of K's boys, but he was hungry and he wanted so much. He wanted Ronan, wanted to give him space and patience, to let him know that it was okay to struggle. But he wanted all those missing pieces too. But if he was honest- and maybe Jiang wasn't always honest with himself either- but he thought that he trusted Ronan enough to ask.

Trusted that even if Ronan ghosted him, left, that he'd come back. Because Ronan -- he made Jiang feel loved.]

[burnyoudown]

Nah. I don't think it makes you a coward. Ronan- he can be skittish. Kind of like one of those dogs that doesn't trust people anymore.

[Which wasn't him judging Ronan, either. He was just- stating what felt like the facts. Ronan had changed after his dad died and if anyone was capable of spotting damaged human beings, it was Kavinsky.]

If he really cares about you though, he wouldn't fuckin'- he wouldn't just leave you on read, you know?

[He also knew from personal experience how hard and terrifying this sort of thing could be. When you cared about someone so much you wanted to tell them- there were so many what ifs that went into the equation. What if they didn't feel the same? What if talking about it ruined the relationship? What if you lost the person who made you happy? But on the flip side, there were happier what ifs, too. What if they loved you, too? What if nothing was ruined and you made them as happy as they made you?]

Besides, if he wanted you just for the sex- [He gestured vaguely with his free hand, the one not tangled gently in Proko's hair.] -He's not that kind of guy.

So I mean- you should tell him. [He wasn't going to say 'what's the worst that could happen?' because he was sure Jiang had already thought of the worst.] Be gentle with him, but tell him.

[It was hilarious, in a way, Kavinsky telling someone to be gentle with anyone. He thought he understood Ronan though, and he didn't think he'd panic and ditch Jiang. It just- some of it depended on the approach, maybe. He didn't think Jiang was going to be overwhelming or abrasive with it, though.]

[magpietrickster]

[Henrietta probably seemed a strange place for a being like Loki, but well, it had a few things going for it, despite appearances. For one, a notable distance from New York City or anywhere overtly connected to his brother. For two, it was directly on top of a very old and very powerful ley line, which meant there was potential for all sorts of oddities. And those that dealt in stories needed a playground, they needed an audience. Which brought him to point number three: for whatever reason, this backwater hick town had powerful dreams and dreamers and a veritable handful of psychics.

Dreams were a lot like stories and dreamers were a lot like storytellers or liesmiths depending on their flavor. Which meant they were a lot like him. And Loki was trying to turn over a new leaf -- to change his story, the stories that people told about him. Dreamers seemed like particularly interesting creatures when you were trying to ask the question: what am I? what can I be instead?

He comes to town on an ill-wind and ill-tidings that he can feel in his bones, a skill that comes from hundreds upon hundreds of years of being the cause of such things. There was supposed to be a party, but he'd missed it by a few days. But it wasn't the 4th of July yet, which meant he hadn't missed the big one. It was one of the things he appreciated about Americans -- their fondness for setting things on fire. For Loki was so very familiar with burning. Fireworks! Flaming sparks you held in your hand to pinwheels of flame and giant orbs that exploded high in the sky. Marvelous, really.

There's a moving truck and a house in the suburbs that would have cost at least a million in the city, even outside of Manhattan. He'd thought about using magic, but there was a charming sort of finality in this; closing one chapter to open another.

But as it turns out, Loki wanders off while things are in boxes, while a well-paid moving crew stacks them inside his new home. Or house, at least, for the moment -- but he's hopeful that maybe he can figure out the other thing. But he has a nose for trouble, for bad decisions, for doing things because you're hurt and lonely and desperate. And especially, he has a sense for magic. And maybe after sometime spent among a group of lost misfits, he can recognize... well, when someone needs help.

But do keep that last part a secret, Reader, wont you?

So he teleports with a surge of green energy, sitting on the roof of a white Mitsubishi Lancer, taking in his surroundings as he muses on how to approach this. He's more or less dressed down, or at least as much as Loki managed. A snug t-shirt that said LIE TO ME in green block letters, snug black jeans, black leather boots, fingerless leather gloves and his nails painted black. He had black hair and an air about him that painted him as someone from somewhere else, an import and not Henrietta-local goods.]

You made all of this, didn't you? With magic.

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky was cranky, to put it lightly. Everything felt like it was crumbling down around his ears and he didn't know where to start on building it back up again. He wanted to believe everything would work out, but he also didn't believe it would happen if he sat around and did nothing.

He'd been two seconds away from potentially trying to put one of his fists through the windshield of the car he was perched on the hood of when he heard someone speak. The hair on the back of his neck had prickled a moment earlier, but he'd ignored it, because he hadn't heard an approaching engine, so it couldn't be Ronan, so nothing else felt like it mattered.

Twisting around to squint through his sunglasses, taking a moment to look the guy over, checking him out because Kavinsky was grumpy and prickly, not blind. His eyes still worked just fine, even if his heart was aching.]

The fuck does it matter to you?

[It didn't come out as sharp and biting as he'd originally intended it to. It was more tired and wary and guarded than anything. He'd spent the last few days spilling his guts to Ronan and getting nothing in return. What did it matter if one more person knew his secret?]

[magpietrickster]

[Loki doesn't seem to take offense at the question, despite the slightly harsh tone. But he does understand, of course. He had appeared out of nowhere, and Midgard's handling of beings with magic was not always kind; he and his team of misfits had admittedly spent about as much time protecting those with magic from their neighbors or local authorities than they had from otherworld entities, or handling magical mishaps.

And then things had gone bad, and they'd all decided they needed to get out of New York City.

So, no, Loki doesn't blame Kavinsky for not being particularly welcoming. He hops down off of the hood of the car, graceful and light on his feet. His smile just a little bit suggestive, like he'd noticed Kavinsky checking him out (he had) and wasn't necessarily opposed (he wasn't). ]

Well, I'm new in town. But I can sense magic, so it was easy to find you- I suppose it was impolite to not call first. [But he doesn't seem particularly bothered by the possible impropriety.]

But I'm not- looking for trouble. Just maybe some pointers, advice, how to get invited to the good parties, that sort of thing. Maybe even a friend. You are quite attractive.

[He grins and it's sharp, because Loki might be a teenager, might be trying to be different-- but he is still a sharp creature. Christmas gifts from his peers had most often been punches to the face. He might even mean something more than friendship, but he's popped in out of nowhere and he's trying not to make him too uncomfortable.]

My name's Loki.

[burnyoudown]

[Kavinsky couldn't help it; he laughed. The whole situation was so absurd.]

Convenient.

[That this guy could sense magic. Dangerous, was what it really sounded like. Imagine if people who wanted to hurt those with magic could sense it? No one would be safe anywhere. But, if he was to be believed, he wasn't here for anything nefarious. At least, not like that.]

You've come to the right place if you want all of the above. I throw the best parties and everyone is always invited. I'm even willing to be friends.

You caught me at a bad time, but- [He made a vague gesture, as if he didn't still want to break something, as if he didn't feel like his heart had already broken. As if he didn't feel a little scraped raw, emotionally.] -his loss could be your gain.

I'm Kavinsky. I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume your parents are mythology nerds? Nothing wrong with that [He added.] It's better than some shit like Joseph.

So what's your deal?

[magpietrickster]

From where I'm standing, he seems like he must have been a serious idiot.

[And cruel, but Loki left out that part, because he knew how difficult it was to be vulnerable, to cop to the things that hurt. And while he didn't love this boy of course, he could offer them both something like closeness, or affection, touch to wash away all the bullshit of the last few days. Something like friendship and understanding.

Kavinsky might notice that while he smirks at the commentary, he doesn't address whether or not his parents were mythology nerds. He tries to make light of it, but it comes out more bitter than he intends.] Joseph the Dreamer. Seems we're both colored by our names.

Well, the short version is that before here, I lived in New York City. I wasn't born there, but it's a busy place; you can find anything there if you're patient. And I am not naturally patient, but I can manage it with the right incentives.

[There's a slight pause as he considers how to tell his story- stories are all gods really are, so each telling always has weight; it always matters. He once had a best-friend-forever, and he lost her by using her in a story and forgetting to tell her own. The telling always matters. And maybe it's because this boy looks scraped-raw and vulnerable, but Loki allows his pervasive smile to fall a little. And he tells him something like the truth.

Not the secret truth, the one about Loki that no one knows, but it is more than he gives to most.]

I had this adorable little group of magic-types. One might even have called us a team. A psychic girl who couldn't be lied to, a depressed dreamer, his shape-changing boyfriend, a girl who was unnaturally good at archery and memes, and me. The original plan was to be heroes.

[He shakes his head, makes a wry sort of sound that says yes, that overly-optimistic endeavor had ended about as well as one might imagine. He makes a green sphere of energy, shifts it into a ball that doesn't seem to quite obey the laws of physics as he bounces it between his hands. Something to fidgit with-- and yes, maybe he was showing off, just a little. Saying I'm a magic-thing, too.]

We could fix magical problems, we thought. Who better than I? We met over a dreamer's dreams gone wrong and deadly, fighting back to try to fix it without the suicidal option. But-- what started out fixing magic problems quickly became saving people with magic, and that quickly became saving ourselves. Because there are people hunting dreamers and psychics and anyone that makes this world a little bit less something everyone else understands.

[Loki was biased, of course, being a pagan god intimately tied to magic and mystery, but he wanted to change the world. He wanted to keep it strange and wild, and maybe sometimes he lost his temper and turned the clouds to dragons. But really, didn't the world deserve it, anyway?]

We thought we might be heroes but forgot that failure is written into the heart of the hero's journey. So it all went to shit, of course. Allegedly, we're supposed to be laying low and letting the heat blow over. But I'm the flashy, impatient one, you know? It got all dramatic lose-my-phone-number sort of stuff. So I gave them what they wouldn't ask for. I left.

So now I'm here. No more heroics this time. Just- parties with hot boys. More kissing. Better music. Maybe even better friends.

[burnyoudown]

Can't argue with that. I thought- I'd thought he was different, but he used me.

[He ducked his head for a moment, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. He wasn't sure how he felt about being known, not having to hide the biggest secret he'd always concealed. On the one hand, it made him grumpy--or maybe he was still grumpy about Ronan. But on the other, it was a relief. He could just be himself without worrying about what he said or did, and yet- when you spent most of your life keeping a secret, it felt weird to have other people know it. It was a little unsettling.

But he listened, quiet and intrigued, even if he was partly tempted to sneer something about heroes. He was quickly distracted by the green orb Loki conjured, watching its motions like a cat watching a bird hop around. He'd never thought of himself as a hero and he knew he was never going to be a hero, but there was something admirable about those who tried.

Especially if people like dreamers were in danger. Ronan might have fucked him over, but Kavinsky didn't want to hear about someone hunting him down for any reason. He'd commit murder to keep Lynch safe, even now. And- there were other dreamers. Enough that people thought they were a threat. It was a strange feeling, uplifting and uncertain at the same time.]

Shit, man. That whole thing sounds like a huge mess. I know one thing about being a hero and that's that it's hard. Figuring out what the right thing is and doing it is hard.

[In his own way, he was trying to say it was admirable of Loki to even try and do the right thing like that, to try and protect people.]

Sorry things ended like they did with your friends. You deserve better.

[He didn't even know Loki (yet), but- everyone deserved good friends. People who would be with them through the good times and the bad, who didn't just abandon them or get tired of them.]

greywaren in the dream sea;

[threesecrets]

[Ronan was a strange thing here; more true and less himself all at once.

He hadn't really known what he was looking for until he found it. He hadn't even realized that he was looking for something. But it felt familiar, and it felt like something that he'd lost, and there's a desperate desire that surges within him to not lose it again -- that feels like the most important thing. There are memories that come back to him, whispers of things like I know what you are and we're the same and what's here? nothing! just us.

It feels like his emotions are as big as the dream sea itself, but they haven't quite settled into place yet, he doesn't quite remember. And so instead, he tries to focus on the important part, for the moment. He reaches out, not quite realizing that it isn't with hands, that he's just a ball of feelings and memories and power all raw and undone, and he reaches out with tendrils of himself.]

I found you.

[He's not quite sure if he says it with words or thoughts or just the raw feeling of it: the heartbreak and ruin of loss, the joy and relief of knowing he was here, he was alive, that he had him again. There's a whisper among the pieces that he's still working to reassemble that asks if he deserves to, and he feels shame and guilt bubble inside of him.]

...Kavinsky.

[He doesn't deserve it. But he reaches out anyway. He wants to twine him into himself, this-- this boy, a boy like he had been. Sharp and too skinny, pale skin, raven hair, and so so gorgeous. It had been crushing and euphoric, and he'd thrown it away. Now, he just wants to hold him, hold onto him. He'd thought he was human. But then, he'd told himself he was human too, back then. The wave of all his feelings starts to crash into him, and Ronan isn't sure if he's going to drown or combust.]

[burnyoudown]

[Ronan wasn't the only one who was strange here. Kavinsky felt- scattered and unsure and larger than himself but unconcerned at the same time. It was hard to put into words; they didn't feel like they worked to describe what he was feeling or what he was.

At the very least, in this form, in this place, he couldn't punch Ronan like his first instinct was to do. The moment passed as quickly as it'd come and then- Kavinsky was left with the rest of the feelings he was experiencing for the other boy. Even though neither of them were boy-shaped right now. It didn't seem to matter.]

Ronan?

[He felt like he'd had his eyes closed for his entire life and was just seeing properly for the first time. He'd thought he was the only one- he'd thought- he wanted to cry, except he didn't think he was capable of tears right now.]

I thought I'd lost you.

[As if he hadn't been the one who'd- but he'd still lost Ronan before, hadn't he? It'd killed him to know Ronan had turned his back on him.]

[threesecrets]

Yeah.

[In truth it took him a moment for his name to sound familiar, but there was something about the feeling of him saying it that made it click into place. Ronan's name and Kavinsky's voice on dozens and dozens of nights. Summer, with the wind in his face, his chest swelling-- happy. He thought that he might have cried too, if he was the shape for it.]

I thought that I'd lost you, too.

[And then suddenly, in a surge, he's reaching out, trying to wrap his arms around the other boy, but it isn't that simple when neither of them are really shaped for it. It's all tendrils and emotion and memory, it's all the feelings, everything that Kavinsky had meant to him, everything that had felt too big for him to swallow when he'd been seventeen and terrified.]

I thought-- I thought that I'd lost you, forever.

[He'd hated himself for it. More than that, he'd swallowed Kavinsky's pills every single night and tried to tell himself it was fingers more slender than his own against his lips. He tangles the two of them together, none of his walls and defenses, no longer trying to hide anything that he is. Not from the other boy, that like him had never really been a boy at all. He wants to say I'm sorry, but it feels too small, too cheap.]

I loved you. I still...

[His body shifts, slowly, remembering human, remembering boy, remembering Ronan Lynch, until he's a smaller thing than the truth of him. But his tendrils and feelings can't hold onto Kavinsky tight enough to satisfy the way that he aches. He needs hands; even if it's just to tangle Kavinsky around his naked body. He'd needed to find him -- it was more true than Ronan had understood.]

[burnyoudown]

[He definitely would have been crying if he'd had the right shape for it, and he wasn't a boy who cried easily. Or at least, he didn't let other people know when it happened.

Ronan pulled him in, more feeling and emotion than anything that felt really physical, but it was so close to the same thing. So close that Kavinsky pressed as close as he could, until he was more or less wrapped around Ronan, trying to memorize the warmth and feeling of him.]

I still love you. I've never stopped.

[Not even after everything that'd happened. Maybe it hadn't been the best thing for him, but he couldn't help it. His feelings for Ronan were everywhere, barely contained, waiting for a spark or a splash of gasoline to jump out of control.

He was aware of Ronan's form changing. It made him more aware of the fact he wasn't human-shaped himself, right now. Except he'd spent longer in this sea, drifting for so long. It wasn't as easy for him to shift forms, and it happened a little clumsily. Trial and error. It was like ripping open a stuffed animal and then trying to stuff all the soft insides back in. He had to remember what limits felt like, what it was like to have a form more solid instead of something shapeless and limitless.

Once he got the hang of it though, after the clumsy beginning, it wasn't so difficult. He reached the point where he could fling himself at Ronan, as if there was any distance between them to start with, and held on tight.]

Don't leave me here alone.

[threesecrets]

I wont. I love you, I need you.

[Maybe it was just proof of how fundamentally not-human some part of Ronan was, but he couldn't help finding it... endearing, how Kavinsky struggled at first to remember what having a body with form and boundaries and limitations was like. But then Ronan had always sort of seen him that way -- indestructible, limitless. And they were the same.

But for the immediate moment he just clutches Kavinsky to his chest, emotional and shameless about it. Desperate in the way that he presses them together, skin to skin. His arms wrapping around him, gathering him up and pulling him in as close as he could. It was more tangible, more physical, but there were borders between Ronan // Kavinsky in ways that had seemed much more nebulous when they had been all memory and emotion and tendrils of incomprehensible form. He strokes a hand down along his spine, his breath shaking like he's just- undone, overwhelmed. He wanted to carve a piece of himself into Kavinsky, like a promise they wouldn't lose each other again.]

I'm not gonna leave you. Never again. I wanna-- fuck. When we get out of here, I want you to let me make it up to you. I want to feel you- days, a week, maybe more. I'm not a coward anymore.

[He pulls away just enough that he can press his hand over Kavinsky's heart, so he can steal the boy's hand and kiss his fingers like he should have that summer. It's a clear seduction, invitation, and he doesn't flinch, doesn't flop towards fury. Admittedly, while he's saying as much in words as he can, there's also a lot still in between the lines -- things he'll try and figure out later. Like the fact that he think he might have ruined the world, but somehow that feels less important than the boy in his arms. He wants Kavinsky to fuck him so much he burns with it, and it's not even strictly sexual. He just wants- needs- he wants him in his skin, wants to show him how much he means to him.]

I dreamed of you so many times. But- in my dreams you always hated me.

[It was how he knew this was real; and why he'd managed to never bring him back. Because it always hurt too much and dissolved into nightmares. Who was crueler to Ronan Lynch than himself?]

--I can't do this without you.

[Live. He meant live.]

[burnyoudown]

[He couldn't help but shiver at Ronan's touch. It'd been so long- so long. He'd been here alone for longer than he'd been able to keep count of. Under normal circumstances, he would've followed it up with a much more subtle sniffle, but there was no one else in this strange place, no one to see or judge or anything.]

You wanna fuck?

[Some things really hadn't changed, except the way he said it wasn't as lighthearted as he'd intended. Not when his voice was wavery and he was still sniffling. Not when Ronan was pressing a hand over his heart and kissing his fingers. It was so much and yet not enough, because Kavinsky was greedy and he wanted all of Ronan, always and forever. But- after they were out of this place, if it was possible for him to leave it.

They were the same, weren't they? If he'd been here all this time, surely leaving would be easy now that Ronan was here. He hoped.]

I never hated you. I couldn't.

[Ronan had made him upset sometimes, sure, got on his nerves, frustrated him, but Kavinsky couldn't have hated him, not for real.

Kavinsky kissed him, gentle, sweet, a little watery because a few tears might have escaped.]

We'll do this together. It was- all I ever wanted. You and me together, against the world.

[The truth was, he couldn't live without Ronan, either. Hadn't been able to.]